"Let us go forth a while, and get better air in our lungs. Let us leave our closed rooms...
The game of ball is glorious."

--Walt Whitman

Friday, June 16, 2006

How Sweep It Is

This post originally appeared on BatGirl.


Hmm. Posting before coffee. This should be largely unintelligible. Ah, well, BatGirl will forgive me. She's the forgiving sort. I've just got to remember not to slip up and talk about that time in Reno when she...er, never mind.

Ahem. Moving along.

Let's see. Trying to remember the game. I was there, you know. But until the coffee hits, the memory's a bit shaky. However, I made notes! Yes, planning ahead. Here they are...

Kubel. Boom.

Oh, right. Kubel hit his fortieth home run of the series last night. It was a pretty one, too. Yes, Kubel got out the boom-boom stick again. Or, in the spirit of the sweep, the broom-broom stick.

Right. No puns before coffee. Got it. Stop throwing things, I bruise easy.

Bartlett--diving stop, baserunning, ABs

Oh, yeah! Did you see Bartlett last night? Did you? There's yer leadership, right there! Having good at-bats, getting hits, running the basepaths like the devil (or, alternatively, a plane ticket to Rochester) were on his heels, and making a sweet, sweeeet diving stop in the field.

And I'm not just saying that because he's my #2 boyfriend. (Yes, Boo, you're still #1.)

Ortiz launches moon shot destined to hit Killebrew banner, bounces off speaker to plunk down in front of Torii for a single.

Okay, now that was the single funniest moment of the season thus far. And the luckiest. Then again, I've always wanted to see someone hit one of those banners... But we'll save that honor for the good Doctor, eh?

Silva out. Knee?

No, thank the baseball gods (who are just and kind and hey, thanks for the sweep, guys). Just a cramp. Little charlie horse in the ol' hammy. He's fine.

And was is just me, or were we treated to the 2005 Edition Silva? You know what it was, of course. He wore his socks the right way. The baseball gods smile upon those who wear their socks the right way. Yes they do.

8th: need three pitchers for one out. Bad Justin--no hockey!

Just when the game was cruising along and we're all thinking Papi's speaker-ball will be the most exciting moment of the game, the 8th inning happened. Boo gave up a hit and hit a guy, then Reyes came on and got a grounder to the Doctor, who kinda fumbled it. A lot. Enter the Nathanator, who predictably sat down the first bitch he faced, but then decided to keep things interesting--sac fly/run, single/run, single, popup. But we still had a two-run lead.

They have a lefty sidearmer. Scary.

Not so scary in reality (he let an inherited runner score and dealt us a walk and a hit in the process), but the mere concept of facing a lefty sidearmer gives me the shudders.


Nathan's ninth was, well...a little nerve-wracking. It started out great, with a groundout and a popout, and the loud annoying Boston fan a few rows behind me finally shut the bleep up.

Then there was the single and the stolen base. And then there was Papi, still steamed about that speaker-ball and about getting released all those years ago which is hardly fair because it worked out great for him but there's no accounting for grudges. And Papi smoked a run-scoring single and the Nathanator's laboring at about a gazillion pitches and looking a little peaked, too.

But Joe had a little talk with his glove (he does that, have you noticed?) and my sources tell me his glove said "Snap out of it! You are THE NATHANATOR. THE NATHANEST OF JOES. Sit that bitch down."

And he did.


Tonight, Liriano pitches AND bats! 6 pm Central, don't miss it.

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