(no subject)

[catslash]

So I'm listening to the game at work when a gentleman comes in looking for directions, and we talk a little about the game. He asks the score, and I tell him that the Red Sox are up 5-0.

"Yeah," he says, "they were ahead yesterday too."
"Yeah," I agree, "but only by three. I'm more comfortable with five."
"Oh, so you're happy with this?"
And I say, "No, I said I'm more comfortable. With the way the Yankees have been playing lately, I'd be happy with fifteen or twenty runs."

Ha, like we could ever get fifteen runs off the Yankees right now. Wait, what? OH YEAH, WE DID.

Final score: 17-1. And I swear to you that I did not make up a single word of that conversation.

Wow. Wow wow. What a game.

I didn't get to hear the whole thing; my co-worker Barbara came in at three to take over at register, register and radio privileges go hand-in-hand, and Barbara does not like to listen to baseball one bit. So I'm doing my paperwork, listening to Stanton load the bases, and here comes Edgar.

And you know how every baseball fan has that story? About how they "just knew" that such-and-such amazing fucking play was going to happen?

Well, now I have mine. I just knew. Because, with Rents improving so drastically at the plate over the past few games and showing us why we wanted him, this was too goddamn perfect not to happen.

So I'm taking my time on my paperwork, because I refuse to fucking miss this. They pull Stanton, to which I say, "Well, OBVIOUSLY." I then greet Quantrill by informing him that he is a little bitch, because I will not forget his behavior in game one against the Tigers any time soon, and more on that in just a second. And then Rents gets his grand slam on the second pitch.

I pause in my paperwork to do the dance of OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD EDGAH (which, heh, doesn't get any more than a "you wanna hurry up so I can sign on?", because by now my co-workers know). Then I have to do the second half of it twice because I'm so crazy excited that I don't trust myself to have gotten it right the first time.

I also got to hear Trot's three-run homer before I had to surrender the radio. At that point, I didn't really mind.

On the subject of Quantrill: Hey, QUANTRILL, guess what? IT'S CALLED KARMA BITCH. Maybe next time one of your teammates gets plunked on the hip, you'll react reasonably by, you know, NOT following a tight brushback by the head with a throw behind the player to get him in the back, and then gesturing at the opposing team to try and start a brawl. JUST A THOUGHT. BITCH.

So much satisfaction on so many levels. What a game.

Comments

[piney61.livejournal.com]

Funny thing, I listened to the entire game on the radio....except one moment when I was walking with my mom back to my car after meeting up with her to check somethign out. I turn on the radio, and Ortiz has hsi walk. I MISSED IT!!!