A few weeks ago, I was leaving my building to go pick up a pizza and not get murdered when I heard some rustling in the garbage. As usual, the source of the noise was a snarling possum. I thought about throwing something at it to defend myself, but all I could see around me was more garbage, and, well, I figured since that’s what he was eating in the first place it would just make him more powerful.
So now, Hissy Fit and I try merely to co-exist without one of us chewing on the other. Sometimes I’ll see him scaling the side of my building and think “Gosh, I sure hope he doesn’t crawl through my window tonight.” Our dynamic is more than the casual indifference and occasional alarm I share with the rat living in my walls, but the key to its success is our limited interaction and mutual respect.
That’s how I feel about the Red Sox.
Phillies 5, Red Sox 1
God, Interleague Play is such a fist in the teeth.
Every year we wind up getting our tassels stuck in the bus door of the American League and they just drag us up and down the highway until there’s just a pulpish, bloody mess where the Philadelphia Phillies used to be.
This year, we managed to get off on the right foot, and though the Sox are a better team than their record would indicate, it is nice to be playing a Boston squad who for once has much, much less of a chance at the playoffs, given that they’ve slipped into lackluster land while playing in the same division as the Tampa Bay Rays Mark II and the team who’s coach formally protested a game they won in order to prove they should have won it by more (I recently inquired as to the viability of the Rays and received a terrifying response).
Cole Hamels welcomed the Red Sox into his home via a first inning home run from Victor Martinez. He then went onto tie them to a chair and video tape himself brutalizing them.
It was a hard show to watch, like the last two increasingly messy episodes of “24,” but with 8 K’s and one ER on the board, Cole (ERA 3.92) was doing that thing he’s been doing that nobody wants to jinx by saying he’s doing it:
J.C. Romero came in, shat on everybody, then apologized and cleaned up the mess, which was at the very least courteous.
And I sure hope you treasured your precious time with Jimmy Rollins, because he literally came back from the DL to jump into a few games, dance all throughout Charlie Manuel’s lineup card, toss in a smattering of base hits, and leave immediately. Jimmy restrained his pituitary gland (or whatever actually happened), and is now day-to-day.
Where are you, Wilson Valdez?!
Like when I tried absinthe for the first time and made sweet, sweet love to a staircase, Jimmy said:
“I’ll see how it feels tomorrow.”
On second thought, those really aren’t two comparable events at all. Let’s also hope that in Jimmy’s version, the following morning wasn’t as humiliating for his friends and entire extended family.
Little Kyle Kendrick action today, going against a Red Sox pitcher (Daisuke Matsuzaka, RHP, 7.89) who was last seen getting the life stomped out of him by the Yankees.
The Phillies can hopefully continue this series using the same philosophies one would use while defending their home from a possum: Wordlessly cock a shotgun and tell them to get out.
Also, offense. Got to maintain that offense.
Ha ha, oh man, the Mets suck.
If it’s taken you this long, then you clearly just don’t want to follow TBOH on Twitter. That’s why I’m leaving you.