Friendly Rivalry


(Photo from Boston.com)

So um, what do we need to do to play the White Sox for the rest of the season? I have so greatly enjoyed these last three games. Of course, now that I’ve said that, we’ll get shellacked 63-2 today and start a shame spiral that’ll end with us getting swept by Tampa Bay in a four game series in that putt-putt course they call a stadium.

Or maybe I’m just paranoid.

Anyway, I know it’s not exactly a new observation but how awesome is Tim Wakefield? I’m so in love with Wake right now. As is most of Red Sox Nation, I would imagine. And Kevin Cash? Can totally stay. Remember how in his first start catching Wake last week, the Globe reported that Cash would be using Varitek’s special “knuckleball mitt?” I envision a really touching scene, postgame, wherein Cash tries to give Tek back his mitt.

“Here you go, Mr. Varitek, here’s your mitt back.” (Everyone totally calls Tek “Mr. Varitek” unless instructed otherwise.)

Tek turns and looks at the boy. Gives him an affectionate pat on the head, “Keep it, kid. It’s yours now.”

And then Tek naturally rides off into the sunset. Or, more likely attaches two Costco-sized bags of party ice to his 35-year-old knees.

So I’m guessing that maybe no one loves Kevin Cash more than Jason Varitek.

Of course, now that Wakefield and Beckett are tied for the league lead in wins, Annette and I theorized that there might be some trash talking going on.

“You mean that Beckett will saunter over to Wake’s locker and start talking smack while Wake sits there and sighs and calligraphies baseballs for local needy children?,” I said.

“No, I mean between Dougie/Cash and Beckett. Like Dougie/Cash will start being all ‘How hard do you throw again? Wake was blowing them away with 71 mph fastballs today’,” Annette said.

“While Wake sits there and shakes his head.”

“Exactly,” Annette said, “And then Beckett will be all, ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t need to make my freak pitches dance to be effective.'”

“And then Dougie will be all, ‘Right, dude, you just need to throw twelve million miles an hour, cowboy. Good luck pitching until you’re fifty with that.’ And then Beckett will start swearing indiscriminately.”

“This is exactly what’s going to happen,” Annette said.

“We have scripted the future.”

So, you know, if anyone was privy to the postgame locker room scene, could you let us know if we’re right. I suspect we are.

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