Friday, August 19, 2005
This photo, of course, is pre-ubercreepy-two-tone facial hair.
But ah, Mike Remlinger. Bottom of the 8th, and he gives up a deep, lofty fly ball to Darin Erstad... caught up against the wall by Adam Stern. Lucky pitcher. Vlad 'Rargh Swing at Everything!' Guerrero grounds out to first... lucky, lucky pitcher. Bengie Molina however remembered that Remlinger wasn't any good and promptly doubled. Casey Kotchman singled (moving Bengie over to third on a hit that would have sent almost anyone else home, as Don and Remy pointed out. Bengie may be many things, but 'fleet of foot' is not one of them).
Already feeling bad about loading the bases and allowing three runs the previous inning, already feeling bad about the hundreds of thousands of Sox fans back on the east coast stabbing themselves in the legs with sporks to stay awake and watch the game (although lord knows why), Mike Remlinger glances over at the bullpen, desperate for any kind of help.
Lo! There is a man warming in the 'pen! Relief is near at hand! But wait, who is this right-handed pitcher slinging balls at Jason Varitek out there? Too dark to be Timlin, too late in the game to be Jeremi, too small to be Manny Delcarmen or Curt Schilling. Not a submariner, so it can't be Chad Bradford. So who....
Oh no.
But oh yes indeed.
There must be a certain kind of deep, dark, terrible shame that you feel in the pit of your stomach when you realize that the game has gotten so completely hideous, and that your pitching has gotten so incredibly, mind-numbingly bad, that your manager has got your backup infielder warming in the bullpen. Presumably the message, or at least one of the messages, is that you are so utterly useless out there that even a utility shortstop couldn't do any worse on the mound.
Remlinger did manage to get out of the inning by himself, striking out Steve Finley two batters later. Most unfortunately, the batter before Finley had seen fit to dump a 3-run homer into the stands, but the difference between 10-3 and 13-3 was apparently of little consequence to Tito at that point.
Awesome.
Myers gave up a 3-run homer earlier in the game, but it came off the bat of a righty (and the two men on base were inherited runners), leading me to believe that the time zone difference has addled our managerial staff to the point where they're actually falling asleep during the game.
Granted, the situation wasn't ideal, as Myers was coming into the game so early because Tim Wakefield had been removed from the field with an injury to (at last update) his shin.
Because he got hit in the leg by a line drive.
We didn't take a single walk tonight either.
Oh, and Papi was 0-for-4 on the night. Manny had a costly, costly error in the field, and for once failed to back it up with anything more than a double. Edgar was hitless. Millar continued the recently acquired Sox prediliction for grounding into double plays.
Ladies and gents, your 2005 Post All Star Break Boston Red Sox: Where the backup outfielder is strong, the catcher is good looking, and Bill Mueller is above average.*
Ironically, I got my first ever Hare Krishna 'be happy' spam in my inbox tonight. I am apparently supposed to "Call out Gouranga be happy!!! Gouranga Gouranga Gouranga... That which brings the highest happiness!!"
I gave it a shot (quietly, since everyone else in the house and probably the neighborhood is asleep) but it didn't do much good. I kept picturing Orlando Cabrera shouting "Gouranga! Be happy!" as he went through some insane handshake ritual with a teammate, which only made me madder. To be Jereish about it, Terrible Job, Hare Krishnas.
In happier news, Zach Duke was completely awesome, again.
"I hope he'll be around a long time," [Mets outfielder Cliff] Floyd said. "The game needs guys like him. He can turn a franchise around."
"Why not?" Floyd added. "I won't be around much longer."
Heh.
*Many points to you if you know what this is from.
1:45 AM
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