Games 2 & 3 - ALCS
Rays 9, Red Sox 8 (11)
Rays 9, Red Sox 1
Sox trail 2-1
I'm traveling for work this week - apologies for the tardiness and brevity. With no further ado, then, a playlet in two acts.
Act 1, otherwise known as Game 2
I love Playoff Tito. Playoff Tito was fuck all in Game 2. I forgive Playoff Tito. He's more than earned it.
I love Playoff Josh Beckett. Playoff Josh Beckett was fuck all in Game 2. I forgive Playoff Josh Beckett. He's more than earned it. Though he'd better bring the nasty should he get another chance.
I love Big Papi. He's my daughter's favorite player - I've got a hand-drawn portrait to prove it. Big Papi was fuck all in Game 2. I forgive Big Papi. He's more than earned it. Though it'd be nice if he channeled Dustin Pedroia for the rest of the series.
Exit stage north.
Act 2, otherwise known as Game 3
I was sweating on the elliptical in the exercise center in my hotel as Jon Lester began giving up parabolas, mostly because his pitches were describing straight lines into the center of the strike zone. I ran out of geometric puns well before the Rays stopped crushing pitches deep into the Boston night.
And now we're counting on Tim Wakefield to square the series. Pythagoras is working on the odds of that happening.