All right, the Game 2 of 2006 redux starts in ten minutes, so this will have to be short. I didn't, however, want people (mainly my 16 closest friends) to think that I was ducking the Yankee fans.
Now, is it me, or was watching former-Red Sox pitcher and future Hall of Famer John Smoltz last night incredibly depressing? At the risk of making an analogy that flirts with profane, given Smoltz's impressive resume, last night's game was akin to watching Rocky IV where an aging and washed-up Apollo Creed gets, literally, killed by the Soviet roid-robot, Ivan Drago. Somewhere around the fourth inning, I found myself yelling at the television, "Throw the towel. Throw the damn towel!" Now, as I mentioned, comparing a 90-minute Cold War propaganda music video with John Smoltz's illustrious career may come across as crass, but hell, I'm not the brightest bulb on the tree, nor the most sensitive guy on the block; my stable of cultural references begin and end with the Rocky movies.
On that note, right now, the Red Sox are getting smacked around by Clubber, Micky's in the locker room dying, and it looks like one of those vicious slow-motion flurry of punch scenes is starting. Their chins are about to hit the canvas. Thud.
It's getting ugly, folks.
Now, is it me, or was watching former-Red Sox pitcher and future Hall of Famer John Smoltz last night incredibly depressing? At the risk of making an analogy that flirts with profane, given Smoltz's impressive resume, last night's game was akin to watching Rocky IV where an aging and washed-up Apollo Creed gets, literally, killed by the Soviet roid-robot, Ivan Drago. Somewhere around the fourth inning, I found myself yelling at the television, "Throw the towel. Throw the damn towel!" Now, as I mentioned, comparing a 90-minute Cold War propaganda music video with John Smoltz's illustrious career may come across as crass, but hell, I'm not the brightest bulb on the tree, nor the most sensitive guy on the block; my stable of cultural references begin and end with the Rocky movies.
On that note, right now, the Red Sox are getting smacked around by Clubber, Micky's in the locker room dying, and it looks like one of those vicious slow-motion flurry of punch scenes is starting. Their chins are about to hit the canvas. Thud.
It's getting ugly, folks.
1 comment:
all my little ponies need to posses someone who loves them in order to be authentic.
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