“C” is for cookie… it’s also for “choke.” Just sayin’…
So, while I enjoyed last night’s Game 1 of the World Series (and who wouldn’t enjoy a 13-1 beat down?), it didn’t give me anxiety. It didn’t make me nervous. I didn’t feel like vomiting. I didn’t have trouble concentrating. I wasn’t on the edge of my seat: unable to concentrate or focus. I didn’t have trouble breathing. Nope – Not even a little. So, I guess I’m saying I was a smidge bored, and looking for some drama (like a moth to a flame).
I like the Bostonist’s take on Bad Boy Beckett:
Every aspect of this game went Boston’s way. The starting pitching was a mismatch, as Francis, the Rockies’ putative ace, lasted just four innings, while Josh Beckett continued to pitch as if the month of October had killed his dog. Seven innings, one run, nine strikeouts (including five of the first six Rockies to come to the plate), and no pressure at all.
Righto. It displeases me greatly when people act as though the reason the Rockies lost 13-1 was because of “all that” time off. Please. 8 days. No one buys that, except perhaps Tim McCarver – which is just embarrassing for YOU if you buy into it.
So now it’s up to Schilling… and good-ole-bloody-sock has me on the edge of my seat… in other words… happy.
(Go Sox)
Mollytics! 