FIFTY THOUSAND MOONS
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Posted by el duque at 7:10 AM
Here in Yankee Reality Land, we measure success by championship rings or - in a pinch - complete Redsock crappings of thy bed. Don't gemmie wrong. I'll take a ring over even the kind of Redsock collapse that makes the Mayans disappearance look minor. But this year's Boston crapdown was truly exquisite. Those guys came through for us.
I'd given up expecting more. I figured when they botched those final games in New York - letting us beat Baltimore - we had crushed the last brown marrow from their sniveling, polished white bones. I was wrong.
I didn't see Marco Scutero becoming the MVP of the NLCS and the poster boy of plucky undersized ballplayers everywhere. He could have made a fine 2B in Boston, if not for the presence of Teacher's Pet. So Scutero got scrapped, and now he's Mr. October. (Actually, that should be Nick Swisher's nickname. You with me?)
Once again, Boston represents the gift that keeps on giving. As we watch George Kontos, Austin Jackson and Phil Coke play in the World Series - (while we send Curtis Granderson out to have his eyes checked, his eyes checked!) - it's nice to know the Redsocks will be there next year. And with Big Papi, too! On a two-year deal! Yayyyyyy.
Funny, but when Boston talked about overhauling their team with youth, I didn't see David Ortiz hanging around until 2014. Maybe he and Grandy will get new glasses. I'm seeing 400 strikeouts between the pair of them.