So last night, the Bronx welcomed Sneachiro to the , donning his pinstripes, and being all awed and bright eyed, and he tried to express this whole wonderment with something about twisting your cheek in Japan. I think I know what he means. When I took a CPR class, they said there are 2 places on the body that are so sensitive that if you pinch them, it'll jolt anyone awake (unless they're unconscious): the cheek and the armpit.
I've never actually had to use CPR, but I definitely have used that pinching tip many a time, when I can't keep my eyes open. I'm sure I look completely normal sitting at a dinner table frantically grabbing my cheeks and armpits. Yeah, I don't know why I'm single either.
Anyways, so I'm assuming this is what Sneach is talking about, having to twist his cheek to wake him up from a wonderful dream of being a Yankee. But it's not even a dream, Sneach! It's real!
And remember how when we were playing in Seattle and you immediately starting sneaking bases as if to tell the Yankees, "Yo watch this shit. This is how I do it. I'm gonna set a precedent here." Well, so then Sneach comes to the Bronx, and the Yanks respond in kind. "Yeah, you do your whole running around like Sonic the Hedgehog thing. And we'll go yard through the night. This is how we do it. See anything you like, speak up."
Ibanez and R-Mart both his 2-run bombs, and Grandy hit a salami in the 8th, and the Yankees beat the Red Socks once again, despite their best efforts.
Actually, WAS that even their best effort? I mean, it's like the bottom of the 1st and there's some ridiculously simple double play and the Socks act like it's their first time seeing a ground ball, or the first time a double play situation has been presented to them. And as such, the Yanks continue to score, making the Pedroia blast in the 1st completely stupid.
Same thing happens when Saltwhatever hits a ding (and I'm thinking, Oh WOWOWOWOWOW! Look at you, big guy! A platinum sombrero or whatever it's called when you strike out 2,231 times in a one game, and now you come back all tough and loaded for bear! We TOTALLY underestimated you!)
And then I'm imaging Saltwhatever saying this.
Carl Crawford decided to get his first homerun this season. Ugh, I can't believe I ever liked that guy. What a loser.
Hughes pitched pretty well. As I've said about 5401 times, I have zero idea what to make of the kid. I'm starting to think Girardi almost shares this sentiment, too, since he was like, "Yeah, he was okay once the guys spotted him a 6-3 lead."
I don't know what about that makes me think this, but it's so passive, or something. Like too qualifying? I don't know. I don't really care either, because the fact of the matter is that they won, and it was a team effort, as it usually tends to be these days with the Yanks. I love it. Dare I say it, but it's a bit reminiscent of 2009, no? No, strike that. 2012 is a new team all together (and altogehter. Ooh, I like that.)
No real dramatics last night, but that may be because the stupid idiots from Boston are just like an unmitigated disaster just trying to stay afloat. Pedroia is trying his damndest to pantomime Jeter's leadership and all, but it's so pathetic. He's like, "we're the RED SOX, GUYS! We're below 500 and that's not like us! No one should be accepting this kind of failure. We don't like to lose."
Ha, I love it when people assert their aversion to losing. As if that somehow ameliorates their recent failures. "Well, yeah, we're 1-12 in the last 2 weeks, but this is a team that hates to lose, you know? And the stronger our hatred for losing, the bigger an anomaly it must be, right? Hence, you guys shoud just go talk to a team that's amenable to losing, because they're the real losers, you know? Not us. WE don't lose because we don't LIKE to lose. I hate myself."
I bet the Red Socks all went home and updated their facebook status and twitter feeds to angrily remind everyone that they're pissed about the loss. Seriously, I find that Boston fans in particular lovvvee using twitter as a way to preemptively deflect digs from NYers.
After a loss they IMMEDIATELY sign on and start typing so fast that I'm imagining all these punks with weathered Boston caps turned backwards, furiously banging on a keyboard to the point where there's smoke emerging from their fingers.
And then you see something like this.
Yeahhh. Keep telling yourself that, buddy.
We'll play our game, you play..or is "play" the right word?..well, you do whatever it is you do on the field. Godspeed.
Hey, speaking of speed, remember how we got Sneachiro and you guys got a furry costume stolen? Life's so unfair.