Ack. This was painful to listen to. I fulfilled my earlier promise of not watching the Mets-Red Sox opener by slipping the multi-band portable radio into my shorts pocket and taking off for the laundromat. Having that extra distance of separation helped a little bit listening to my two favorite teams slug it out like every other boring AL game. Every good moment for one team meant a bad one for the other team. It's so much easier when the Sox play the Yanks.
I felt like Mr. Split Personality when I walked around my neighborhood while my clothes were spinning around. My brain sort of worked like this:
Me: Alright, the Greek God of Walks scored!
Me: Dammit, Allay Soler doesn't have it tonight.
Me: Carlos Delgado is continuing to hit!
Me: Dammit, maybe this Lester kid isn't as good as we hoped.
Me: Carlos Beltran is still hot!
Me: Julian Tavarez is still a scumbag.
Tonight I feel compelled to get home by the first pitch, just see more of the love Boston has for Pedro. After that, I may have to go back to walking around my hood and listening.
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