never say dieOh, hi, sorry, we fell off the map for a minute there, didn't we? Since we last spoke: Katie attended that interminably endless Sunday night Yankees game and I haven't actually seen her since, she might have froze to death. Hopefully she will report in on all the new ways that she heckled Jorge Posada. I went to New York for a few days, but not at the same time as the team unfortunately, so I was unable to collect the free hit from Mike Mussina that all Boston metro area residents are eligible to redeem with the purchase of any flatbread pizza. Then I briefly went blind in one eye (so I was able to miss some of the uglier hacks during the lowest point of Papi's slump) and somewhere in there, the Red Sox rolled into Cleveland and gave the Indians two solid days of PTSD flashbacks.
So things continue to chug along, and it seems as though the team has won more come from behind games in the first twenty than they did over the course of 162 last season. And nothing makes me want to make out with a hunchback (I heart you, Sean Casey, but you run like Frankenstein's monster) like a team that keeps stacking up come from behind wins. A few more early big innings would be nice, but everything in good time.
As a random aside: the camera spotted Dustin Pedroia wearing a Rajon Rondo jersey shirt during the Celtics playoff game last night. Do you think the scrappy young guys on all the Boston teams have fellowship meetings? With secret handshakes? I sure hope so.)
And now it's time for the brunch game and the
In conclusion, the Papelblog would like you to pour a little on the ground for Jackie MacMullan. Amen.