Red Sox v. Rays, 7:05 pm. It's been a long and wearying 24 hours in the aftermath of the terrorist (terrorist, I say!) attack on my beloved Tom Brady's knee. Naturally, an injury like that coming off one of the most painful let-downs of my life (ranks right up there with learning that there's no Santa Claus and finding out the hard way that an incredibly hot dude I lusted after in college was woefully under-endowed) has been difficult to deal with... but, as A Pimp Named DaveR (it's all one name, you know, like A Tribe Called Qwest) so eloquently pointed out earlier today, it would be deeply remiss of us to neglect those boys in red stockings who've been working so hard to defend their World Champion status since, well, the ass-crack of dawn one sunny day in late March. This is the sweet spot of the baseball season: the time of year that we all start playing out potential matchups and cleverly altering the names of months to be things like SoxTober and Let'sHopeTheMetsDon'tFuckItUpAgainTember. And what better way to remind us all of that than The Series To End All Series, as Boston and Tampa Bay prepare to play Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Baseball for the much-contested AL East lead? Tonight, Jon Lestaaaaaah (13-5, 3.37) will face the scorching fastballs of righty Edwin Jackson (11-9, 4.07), who's got powerful stuff but has been struggling lately. I won't be facing any dire conflicts of interest, as my sexy and recently-reactivated boo will not be in the lineup. Phew! I'm free to hate on the Rays indiscriminately. Whiny little punks. OH NO IT'S ROCCO BALDELLI HE MIGHT GET SICK MITOCHONDRIA ON ME.
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Tonight also marks an historic night at Fenway Park: the Red Sox have sold out their 456th consecutive game and thus snagged the MLB record for most consecutive sellouts (the previous holder of the record for most sellouts was Aerosmith). If I may wax poetic in a non-metered context for a moment, FUCK AND YES. Fenway is literally my favorite place on earth; it's breathtakingly beautiful, laden with history, and simply crackles with excitement at gametime. I feel immensely privileged to have grown up with Fenway as my home ballfield, and I hope it stays packed for seasons to come. WOOOOOO BOSTON!
In summary: life is good, the Sox are in town, and I'm no longer unemployed, which is great because the whole "not having any money" thing was really starting to cramp my style. YAY FUTUREMRSRICKANKIEL. Drinks on me tonight, boys! And by "drinks on me" I mean "you may do body shots out of my belly button." JUST THIS ONCE.
Another quick plug, as well: I'll be back over at the inimitable Kissing Suzy Kolber again tonight to liveblog the NFCraptacular Cheeseheads/Vikes game followed by the debut of RUN DEE EM SEE OMG against Jay Cutler and the Broncos. I can't promise witty and intelligent commentary, but I can promise lots of utterly tasteless abortion jokes and lashing out at people who make Tom Brady cracks. Sounds fun, don't it? Anyhoodle, stop on by if you can.
Frivolous prop bet of the night: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!
Serious prediction of the night: Jackson and his 97-mph fastballs get taken deep in the 4th for a huge 6-run inning.