Saturday, April 15

Home free

And I'm back. I never love Boston more than when I come home from New York. It's a crazy, intense city, and for many reasons (none of them related to baseball), I really dig it. But it's not Boston.

Apparently, in my absence, the Sox decided that they didn't need to, oh, I don't know, score any fucking runs. Seriously? Seriously, boys? You best not be pulling that shit on Monday. Because I have tickets. And I'm bringing my mom. You know what my mom likes? She likes homeruns, boys. Long, fly balls that soar over the Green Monster and into the cool night (or balmy afternoon, whatever). You know what I like? Scoring when you have the bases loaded and no outs. A single! A sac fly! Nothing?! After watching the Sox debacle on replay on NESN, I had to watch fucking Fever Pitch to calm down. Fever fucking Pitch!

So, repeat after me: Bring the bats. Bring the bats. And do not make some weak-ass swing at a fucking ball. I'm talking to you, Adam Stern. And I am not kidding.

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