It Is Time To Face The Music

We went into battle, got hammered, and limped back to our lines.

The game, as Yogi would say, " got late, early."

They are better:

 More wins.  Superior pitching.  More reliable hitting. Prime defense.

And they don't have former MVPs who only shine when it is irrelevant.

As that first inning blast went over the wall, and Fenway exploded with glee, it had to be like what Hitler felt while watching the Reichstag burn.  He knew that Germany was his and, next, the world.

The Yankees were mostly dead, all night.

The great hope that Boston would be sluggish and unready, due to all that idle time, proved an empty wish.  The expectation that the Yankees would be sharp and hungry, because we played like that against Oakland, disappointed like cold, watery soup.

So now, we send the troops out of the trenches again.  Straight into the machine gun cross-fire?

There is no choice.  It is a sacred duty. Whoever starts for us today, can easily be down by 6 runs in two innings.

So I say this;  " death O death, where is thy sting?"

If it is to be over and done, let it be finished quickly.