The game goes on...
... and on and on and on.
I'm staring to believe that Sox-Yankees games are played in a parallel universe, where time runs slower than it does in the real world. Halladay and Buehrle could have pitched two games in the time it took for the Sox to lose to the Yankees last night, and still had time left over to grab a couple of post-game beers.
I have to admit I gave up on the this one out of pure fatigue. The 'rain' delay meant that the game got started about 30 minutes late, and by the time the seventh inning rolled around, it was 4:45am here, and you didn't need to stick a fork in me to tell that I was done. It turns out that I didn't miss much - most of the damage had already been done by the time I bailed out, and even the potentially bases-clearing brawl in the ninth never really got going.
I can't say that I was disappointed about abandoning this game. No matter when the teams play or what the standings are, Yankee games make me nervous. And when the spectacularly unpredictable knuckleball is all that stands between the Sox and a severe beating, I'm not in a good place. I love the knuckleball, and when it's working, it is a thing of both beauty and mystery, but when things start to go pear-shaped - and it hurts to even think this about Wake - it's hard to watch your starting pitcher try to use his 70mph 'fastball' to blow opposing hitters away. Call me fickle, but I have to admit that when the chips are down, I resort to full old-school redneck mode, and only 95mph Papelbonian high cheese will satisfy me.
Curt and Josh: if you're reading this, you know what to do...
--------------------
Obsessive Anal-Retentive Game Counter: 46
I'm staring to believe that Sox-Yankees games are played in a parallel universe, where time runs slower than it does in the real world. Halladay and Buehrle could have pitched two games in the time it took for the Sox to lose to the Yankees last night, and still had time left over to grab a couple of post-game beers.
I have to admit I gave up on the this one out of pure fatigue. The 'rain' delay meant that the game got started about 30 minutes late, and by the time the seventh inning rolled around, it was 4:45am here, and you didn't need to stick a fork in me to tell that I was done. It turns out that I didn't miss much - most of the damage had already been done by the time I bailed out, and even the potentially bases-clearing brawl in the ninth never really got going.
I can't say that I was disappointed about abandoning this game. No matter when the teams play or what the standings are, Yankee games make me nervous. And when the spectacularly unpredictable knuckleball is all that stands between the Sox and a severe beating, I'm not in a good place. I love the knuckleball, and when it's working, it is a thing of both beauty and mystery, but when things start to go pear-shaped - and it hurts to even think this about Wake - it's hard to watch your starting pitcher try to use his 70mph 'fastball' to blow opposing hitters away. Call me fickle, but I have to admit that when the chips are down, I resort to full old-school redneck mode, and only 95mph Papelbonian high cheese will satisfy me.
Curt and Josh: if you're reading this, you know what to do...
--------------------
Obsessive Anal-Retentive Game Counter: 46
posted by Iain at
08:58
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