(photo from Boston.com)
The good news: The Red Sox won another game, thus sweeping the Royals.
The bad news: They only managed to score one run in the form of a Manny Ramirez home run.
The good news: The Yankees lost, putting 1.5 games between the Sox and Yanks in the standings.
The bad news: They should have lost last night too but Joe Torre is in league with dark forces.
The good news: Jonathan Papelbon is still a robot.
The bad news: Sometimes, humans have to play baseball games.
The good news: Josh Beckett, clearly not content to let the rookie steal his thunder, pitched eight complete innings of shut-out baseball. Immediately after the game, Theo announced that the Sox had signed Beckett to a three-year extension.
The bad news: Three more years of worrying about Beckett’s potential for blisters. Not to mention the iTunes bills for all the Phish and Dave Matthews Band downloads.
The good news: Our rotation might be coming together. I cannot emphasize “might” enough.
The bad news: Tim Wakefield has a fractured rib and will almost certainly go on the disabled list. I blame an overenthusiastic hug from Dougie, his hetero lifemate.
The good news: Doug Mirabelli is hitting over the Mendoza line.
The bad news: Never mind.
But hey, a sweep is a sweep is a sweep. And someone very wise once said that “you only have to score one more run than the other guy to win.” Probably it was Tim McCarver. In which case, replace “wise” with “incompetent, bumbling jackass.” Nevertheless, one is still more than none and these wins count just as much as any others.
Personally, I’m glad it’s Wednesday night so I have Rock Star filling the dark, baseball-less void of my evening. But does anyone else feel like the Red Sox are having their own little Rock Star reality show right now? Like they keep auditioning pitchers to figure out who’s worthy of joining their supergroup? Like maybe Mike Timlin fancies himself the hatchet man and has to tell the aspiring newbies that they didn’t make the cut and have to go back to fronting a AA farm team somewhere in Des Moines for peanuts and beer? Would that make Mike Timlin the Tommy Lee of the Red Sox pitching staff? Who’s the Jason Newsted? Who’s the Gilby Clarke? What happens when Axl Rose inevitably shows up looking like he ate his former self and beats up a bullpen catcher? More importantly, what the hell am I talking about and why do I watch so much damn TV?
Until tomorrow, kids. Seattle’s in town (Edit: Or Texas. I’m hallucinating, apparently). Best bring it.