Eric Gagne Does Not Live Here Anymore

(Photo from Boston.com)

Okay, here’s the fortunate/unfortunate bit. I got to see a game at Fenway yesterday. Problem was, it was the second game. Without looking a gift horse in the mouth, I wish to thank Luna and Jen from Respect the Tek most awesomely for the tickets. (That sounds like I just called them horses. I assure you, that is not what I meant. Though horses are noble and beautiful creatures). ANYWAY, it was one of those games where you mentally prepared yourself to lose 4-1. You were all set for it. Good to go. Unfortunate but hey, we won the first game, what are you gonna do? The opposing pitcher has an ERA over six so obviously, he’ll pitch a 2-hitter.

But then those bastards got your hopes up.

And then Eric Gagne happened.

Gagne’s record was listed at 3-1 on the scoreboard after the game. That didn’t seem right to me but then I remembered he didn’t get losses for either game in the Baltimore series, though he most surely should have.

“That record is CLEARLY not indicative of his performance to date,” I loudly declared. “History shall judge him harshly!”

“NOWstory will judge him harshly,” Luna replied, “I mean…damn.”

I called The Rick on the walk to the T after the game to explain what had happened. “Gagne blew another one? They’re going to boo him out of town,” he said.

I really hate that this is happening. Not just because it’s costing the Sox games and all that but I hate it when things turn ugly between a player and the fans. It tends to reflect poorly on the fan base as a whole and honestly, we’re not getting the best PR as it is. I’m not saying we shouldn’t express our displeasure with Gagne’s performance, just that, I don’t know, I wish we didn’t have to.

Julio Lugo is another story entirely. Look, I realize that he’s raised his average like fifty points since the All-Star break but you have to do more than start in the basement and scramble to the first floor for me to be impressed. You also have to NOT MAKE TWO CRUCIAL ERRORS, JULIO LUGO. I knew they were coming. Sitting in Grandstand 17 with a miraculously unobstructed view, I saw the routine grounder bounce to Lugo and I swear to you, I thought, “This is going to end badly.” I thought that twice. Both times I was right. Sometimes, I really hate being right.

Now, let us talk about the first game for a moment and the one they call Buccholz. Well played, sir. Well played indeed. Of course, I was away for work for the afternoon and missed all but the last two innings of the game and had a mini heart attack when Greta texted me and said, “You should probably bring your catcher’s gear to the game tonight.” I fumbled to call her back and could not shake the thoughts of last year, “Oh god, it’s happening again.”

“What happened?” I demanded, “Is Tek hurt? Because if Tek’s hurt I’m not coming home. I’m…giving up all my earthly possessions and taking up residence under a bridge somewhere in Western Massachusetts.” (This made sense to me at the time.)

She explained what had happened.

“I will give Tek a medal if he catches both ends of a double header,” I said.

So herewith, Sir Varitek, is your medal.

It’s for awesomeness. You win.

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