The problem with living for the moment is that some moments are boring. And when some such moments contain portents of an imminent and interesting future, I get a little antsy. I'm bored with Texas. Crappy pitching, violent but shut-down-able hitting. Everyone knows ahead of time how tragedies end (the guy dies), but the unfolding is the good stuff. Beating Texas- with the outcome inevitable- is more like unfolding laundry. You'll look crappy if you don't do it, but, geez, do I have to?
As an impatient Milhouse lamented during Poochie the Dog's meandering, filibustering debut on Itchy and Scratchy, 'when are they going to get to the fireworks factory?'
I love Paul Byrd, who's second in wins to Cliff Lee since the all-star break, with 8 (4 with the Sox); he's always a treat. But I'm ready for the pennant race; bring on Tampa, where each pitch's intensity is concentrated like Tropicana orange juice, and when squeezed, oozes out juicy juicy meaning. The Sox have closed to within a game and a half, as the Famous Original Rays have lost 5 of 6, coming off a sweep from Toronto. The Rays have lost 8 straight at Fenway; all their wins vs. the Sox this year have come at Le Trop. I'd use a tennis break serve metaphor here, but blech.
The Rays look ripe for the picking, and dizzy and confused. Sunday's hard luck 1-0 loser, Tampa starter Matt Garza, said of the Sox "Right now, we're up top and they're chasing us. If we can keep playing our ball, this thing will turn around." Poor guy doesn't know which way is up; if we're chasing them, they're ahead, not on top (we don't run up.) But if they are on top, he shouldn't want anything to turn around, or else they'll fall on their heads. But it's natural for such an inexperienced team, unused to their position in the midst of a pennant race, to bungle their spatial metaphors.
Here it comes, Tampa, a fight for borders, for territory, for space. You may have drawn the line in the sand, but your expected wins based on +/- is only 80, behind our 87, and even Toronto's 82. Regress to the mean, b*tches!(If I'm ever a pro wrestler, or a cartoon dog, that'll be my catchphrase.)
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2 comments:
so you were trying to say that the waiting game sucks, and that you'd rather be playing Hungry Hungry Hippos?
i was never much good at hungry hungry hippos, though i always liked the ballsiness of the double modifying 'hungry' without a comma.
so, naturally, during a typical round of enforced starvation as the more agile hippos ate up all the tasty tasty plastic food spheres, i'd say 'i'm bored, i sure wish there was a sox/rangers game on'
of course, only the first paragraph is true.
generally speaking, as much as there is potentially magic and meaning in every pitch, even between two cellar dwellers in the california penal league, sometimes i must admit that the rangers aren't that interesting, in the grand scheme of things.
i think even remy admitted in one of those games that he couldn't wait for it to be over. and assuming that wasn't so he could get back to smoking or raising prices on his website, i can't necessarily fault him for that.
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