Me last night:
No, really: That’s it? That’s how it ends? That’s how the 2016 Red Sox go down? That’s how Big Papi’s career comes to a close?
Ooof. I can’t even look at that picture without looking like that picture.
Me last night:
No, really: That’s it? That’s how it ends? That’s how the 2016 Red Sox go down? That’s how Big Papi’s career comes to a close?
Ooof. I can’t even look at that picture without looking like that picture.
That horrified scream you heard when our ace gave up his third home run of the inning last night? Yeah, that was me.
There is nothing with which I have had less direct involvement than the Red Sox making it into the postseason … and there is nothing with which I will have less direct involvement than their performance in the postseason … and yet, every time they get to play October baseball, I am more excited than a grown man should ever be about something with which he is not directly involved … let alone something for which he will be fully clothed.
OK, so this happened:
And, yes, that’s totally freakin’ awesome … but I (not to mention the Red Sox themselves) would have enjoyed the celebration a hell of a lot more if our All-Star closer hadn’t kicked off the party by coughing up a walk-off grand slam.