day offHow I spent the off day when I wasn't bitching about why anyone would want to sign a 45-year-old probably-juicing wretchface who couldn't average 6 innings per start in the same division that produced the league's first 83 game World Series championship team.
When it's ten o'clock on a Thursday night and I'm watching the game at a bar somewhere in Kenmore, wondering how many hours it's going to take me to get back to Somerville on the train, I think, "Christ, I'm kind of looking forward to the next off day, maybe I can actually get something done." Then the next off day comes around and you can usually find me sitting on my couch in in pajamas, eating a tuna melt and watching Walk Off Sox.
So, that's ... cool, right? Tonight's Walk Off Sox was from September 29, 2005, and featured a wheels-already-coming-off performance by Matt Clement (Remember when he still played for us? What's that? Technically he does still play for us? Um, fuck that) and I remembered that a lot of things first have to go wrong to produce the opportunity for a walk-off win, and I was just getting ready to catch up on the Sopranos or re-watch the season finale of Friday Night Lights or something when this guy comes in for long relief, this rookie who was a mid-season call-up from Triple A, I don't know if you've heard of him?
I tried to tell the PM that he looked younger, and she was like, "Seriously, shut up, this was a year and a half ago." But he definitely had not perfected his kill mode routine of looking down at the ground, and then looking sloooooowly up to stare down the batter until the batter thinks he's going to piss himself. Mostly he just slammed the door and was bad-ass, getting the last two outs of the seventh and the full eighth and ninth innings, allowing only two hits and no runs scored. There was one sign of things to come, though. In the bottom of the ninth inning, the camera catches Paps sitting in the dugout with a towel over his head, looking like he just shot 342 ducks using only the power of his laser glare, and Remdawg says something like, "He's got ice water in his veins, nothing really bothers him. When he forced the hitter to pop up to end the inning, he just kind of walked off the mound, like, 'this is what I'm meant to do.'" Oh, Remdawg, if you only knew. If we all only knew.