GAME SEVENTY FOUR: Weave-boozled.

Jeff Weaver, who brought such delight into my life last start, is probably feeling pretty high today after a nice start against our Somersets (and NOT Pilgrims), Pilgrims making so lame a mascot that some teams hide behind their uniform colors rather than acknowledging that name.)



Anyway, perhaps because he didn't need to relax himself after a road trip, and definitely assisted by one awful inning where our fifth starter actually looked like one, Weaver was solid, throwing more junk than Eddie Harris at us; he may have taken another run or two off his once infinite ERA, even. Consider me a doubter, though. One still sick as a dog, however, and overworked. A funnier post than this when I get home to come.

GAME SEVEN: Ball four...ball eight...

Got to watch all of one inning of this game because that inning was the first, and it took all of my lunch break, minus the time it takes to get from 53rd Street to the ESPNZone in Times Square, where I can always stand around the arena arcade (fix the goddamn MoCap Boxing, ya lazy bastards! Great game and the greatest video game workout since World Track Meet...plus, you can't cheat, unlike World Track Meet. (Oh yeah, act like you didn't jump off the mat on the high jump and pound the Power Pad with your hands when you were racing Cheetah.

Anyway, the awfulness of Jeff Weaver's start cannot be understated. No command whatsoever, to the point that it's amazing he didn't start off with eight walks...the Red Sox were doing him a favor in actually getting hits off him. He could have been out in the first inning with a little more luck. (And if Dustin Pedroia didn't show off his, um, warning track power, as he finally got his first at-bat...making the last out...of the first inning.) It could have been like this classic 2003 game, and Weaver's performance might have reminded one of this one from the 2003 Fall Classic.

Command= none.

Strike throwing: little. Something like 22 of his 38 pitches in the 1st inning were balls, maybe more...look it up yourself, this ain't Baseball Prospectus.

(Side note: For non-subscribers to BP, I recommend their BP Radio Podcasts and the free blog, Unfiltered, highly. Their knowledge reigns supreme over nearly everyone's.)

Composure: he made variations on this face quite a lot:



Weed: possible. But I don't inherently believe non-performance enhancing drugs are always a performance detriment. Besides, I doubt Weaver's stash (below, circa 2003) is what it once was.



Rust: Yeah, sure, the Indians and Mariners went a long way between games, and Weaver was supposed to start like six days ago. But it might be worth mentioning that the Mariners are not a good team, saved a loss via some serious craftiness in their aborted series with the Indians, and, oh, the Indians won. (How C.C. Sabathia gave up just one earned run giving up 10 hits is a riddle, though.)

Suck: Jose Vidro is their DH. And bats THIRD. Adrian Beltre's failure is shocking in that never before has a player had a breakout year during his contract year, signed that contract, and proceeded to...never mind. Enjoy, Angels. (Come to think of it, the Jeff Weaver signing was based off ONE GOOD WORLD SERIES, wasn't it? This guy seems like he was an adequate GM more and more as the days go on.)

The best comparison I can give to Weaver's performance, not that the Sox don't deserve credit for their Critical Beatdown, is this guy, before he got glasses:



Oh, Josh Beckett looked amazing, by the way. Those three strikeouts were two weeks worth for Ichiro.

Daisuke "Monster Zero" Matsuzaka v. Ichiro "No Nickname, And No Last Name" (Suzuki) and "King" Felix Hernandez tonight...can't wait. We're gonna be like Oliver Cromwell on that bitch. ICHIRO VERSUS Part #2...coming tomorrow.

No post today: off-days are always hard, but with the current condition of today's ballgame, I'm also grinning ear to ear too much to write much beyond Fuck yeah. I'll have plenty to say tomorrow though.