Like some funky baseball version of Rip Van Winkle, JD Drew woke up from his season long siesta at the plate with a Grand Slam in the first inning last night, metaphorically kicking the Indians square in the the marbles.
I know, he's been MUCH better since September, but through the playoffs had struggled: how many other $70 million dollar players do you see sitting on the bench, not once, but twice during the post season? It had to feel like an anvil was removed from his back last night.
I've watched almost every game this year, and JD is normally as demonstrative as the rosin bag: not last night. Fist pumping, yelling to himself, and meeting up at home plate with Papi with fire in his eyes, JD was finally accepted by RSN.
Tonight, it's Daisuke's turn to play hero: after all the hoopla over signing him, an up and down season, and a ugly couple of playoff games, it's a shot at redemption for Matsuzaka. He's saying all the right things but you've got to believe Tito has Beckett ready, just in case.
I woke up antsy, and it hasn't gotten any better: Angie had to hit me on the leg during church this morning because my right leg was bouncing up and down like a pogo stick. I've spent the better part of the last 2 hours figuring out how I'm getting all the kids fed, read to, and in bed by 8, even though I know FOX will drag out the start time for 15 or 20 minutes.
Dinks that they are.
We are going to the World Series!!! Here's to the bullpen jug band, The Munchkin, and Papelbon: Rockies vs. Sox. EVERYBODY RIVER DANCE!!!!