Beckett doesn't pitch tonight due to "back spasms." Which in my mind is code for "we're setting up the rotation for the playoffs and if he goes tonight it means Paul Byrd next week".
Which is all well and good, except for the small matter of WE HAVEN'T CLINCHED THE WILD CARD YET.
Yes, I'm aware it's two games and the odds of it not happening are akin to Jared from Subway marrying one of the Kardashian sisters but still; stranger things have happened.
So Beckett sits, Bowden pitches, and because I'm home alone with all three kids while Ang plays "Bunko", whatever the heck THAT is, I have no idea what is really going on but all I know is it's 11-3 Toronto in the bottom of the 5th inning and I've got this really bad pressure building right behind my left eyeball.
Does anyone know if that's a sign of an impending stroke?
I was looking forward to a week or so of relative "blah" when it came to baseball. Flipping over to "Hell's Kitchen" without worrying I'd just jinxed the entire team tomorrow night or checking Discovery to see if I could happen upon a "Deadliest Catch" marathon on Saturday.
But NO. They seem bound and determined to make my stomach sound like a garbage disposal stuck on high for the next week and I guess I shouldn't be surprised.
It is the Red Sox after all, and after all these years I should have realized this one fundamental thing.
They don't make anything easy.
Pineda Just Had His Wall Sponge-Painted
2 hours ago