Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Mr. Halladay was unhappy last night.

Let’s just be thankful our friend Vernon gave us the other kind of outfield assist. Or else it’s a decent bet Big Papi would’ve been gunned down at the plate, and we’d be calling for Tito’s head for not pinch-running. (And yes, yes, I understand now why he didn't. But trust me: if that game had gone into extra innings there were gonna be a lot of unhappy people in that 43-degree wind-tunnel, not least the players.)

“Sometimes the greatest games are played in April,” the drunk guy a couple rows behind me opined at in the middle of the ninth.

And so it was.

An entirely dominant — and somewhat unexpected— deep start from young Lester. (Just a B+?)

A couple overpowering Ks from Papelbon and a jaw-dropping defensive play from Pedroia.

A moonshot foul. Then a walk.

A bloop single.

A deep inhalation of breath.

And a seeing-eye rocket into center.

Chug-chug-chug. The big man trundled homeward.

And suddenly the green infield was a churning sea white and red.

Sorry Roy. Big ups to you. You're a helluva competitor. But complete games are only really worthwhile when you get the W.

4/30/2008 11:31:53 AM by Mike Miliard | Comments [0] |