Never Say Die
I watched every pitch of game 5.
For nine mind-numbing innings, my heart was audibly thumping, pumping adrenalin-infused anxiety to all invisible, intangible aural points.
By the time the final impact of tired leather upon smoldering ash, I was wired to the fucking ceiling.
The result of that hit had me elated.
I consider the Red Sox response from a 7-0 deficit in the 7th inning of a deciding game to be yet another personal inspiration. These comebacks are beginning to add up, over the years, to my shocked delight.
It's nothing compared to Ann's frog.
But it's all I got right now.
2 comments:
Is that sarcasm? I think it is. Go Rays!
PS the frog is a she and -she- came back. Again. This makes 5 times.
PSS- Go Rays. Oh yeah, I already said that. Heh.
See above entry...Don’t kiss that frog. Otherwise, I’ll awkwardly end up next to you in some absurdist abstraction of a shower. We’d both be screaming for towels, robes and escape routes. But wishing a way to actually watch a baseball game together. And split a 12-pack. Helluva way to meet each other. Which will obviously never, ever happen. BTW, I’ve been told of this key off the coast in the Gulf near you. Is it cool, or would I tilt the place on its axis? Just wondering and looking for a good chill spot.
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