52 Games and One Glimmering Ray of Hope Off the Bat Of Victor Martinez.

What are reasons that the Sox season isn’t over.

Here is the series of texts between myself and SMC last night at 10:40 PM:

SMC: That was all me. I sat down at the casino and said: hit this thing the mother f#$% out of the mother f#$%ing park. Everyone was appalled till it happened.

SMC: And now I’m the man.

ME: Play a hand of blackjack

SMC: We suck again. Cut them all. Where is halladay? And holiday? F#$% everybody.

ME: Your fault for claiming responsibility. Cunt.

SMC: F#$% everybody.

ME: I hope bard breaks Arods wrists.

SMC: F#$% swisher.

ME: With a Sharp Stick.

In reality, we were both pissed off.

The Fact of the matter is that we (by we I’m meaning the Sox, and possibly SMC who is in some godforsaken corner of the world, and though it is beautiful, the only thing that is keeping him sane is an IV of crown Royal and a steady stream of blackjack tables) have a 6-1/2 game deficit in the division, a tie for the wild card and fifty Two games left to go in this increasingly 2006-esque season and need some things to go right to avoid an end worse than the Crocodile Hunter. We need at least one of the pitchers (Matsuzaka, Wakefield, anybody else with an arm who can spot a fastball) to come back healthy and produce the way we all know they can. We need to get the bullpen a rest, and mostly, we need the bats to wake the f#$% up.

We Feel The Same Way

I’m not going to go through the stats of the past three nights, but the Bats have to come awake if anything is going to happen. This has become a slump (except against the Orioles, who suck ass) of epic proportions, with the complete inability to get a productive out, a big hit or even a home run in a the Stadium that is quickly giving a new meaning to the term launching pad. In the past three days, even Youk, Pedroia and Ellsbury have been on the slide, leaving most of us bored and in pain. other than the brief, glimmering ray of hope (which was crushed seven minutes later) provided by Victor’s bomb in the eight, this has been a week of despair like none I have seen since that bad five gamer in ’06.

Of course if you listen to most of the New York media, it may as well be October already.

We’re back at home tonight, and everything will be O.K.

Go Sox.

Done.