We actually got our lazy asses off our couch of a Friday night and went to congratulate Emma on her graduation with beers and burgers at Crossroads. It was a small group, and a crowded bar, so the only disruption we managed was when Emma shouted at A-Rod on the screen, "YOU HAVE A GIRLY BATTING STANCE!" That got the attention of a couple of people around us, and Amy pointed to Emma and announced, "Harvard grad!"
Then something about the beer and burgers and Wake walking the bases loaded got to us, and Amy and I both needed some antacids, so we went around the corner to the convenience store and missed most of the game's worst carnage. By the time we got back (we searched the store high and low for the Rolaids, before returning to the very front of the store where we'd first entered and found them right there in a little display by the counter. Amy: "We are smart girls from good schools.") the score was 9-3 and Joe Torre was shaking his finger in the face of an umpire, and then the umpire was shaking his finger back at Torre, and they were screaming and gesticulating exagerratedly nose-to-nose at third base like something out of an old silent movie.
People got plunked today. And thrown at. The Yankees scored a bunch off Wake, whatever, sometimes the knuckler doesn't knuckle and all in all it was a stinker of a baseball game. But somewhere along the line, things still got out of control in that delightful way they do when it's Sox vs. Yankees. Joe Torre got ejected from a game he was winning by a wide margin and then stayed in the field screaming in the face of the umpire, which seemed generally out of character for him. Mike Lowell got hit, which is all kinds of random. Then again, so is Robbie Cano getting one in the ribs.
Tragically, it turned out Mike Lowell was a relatively serious casualty in the beanball war, leaving the game after a fastball to the forearm. ("They broke our Lowell!" shrieked Amy.)
Things almost came to fisticuffs in the ninth when Scott Proctor gave Youkilis a little Beard Music and the benches cleared, but it was the lame kind of baseball fight where everybody just mills around while the main combatants huff and puff from behind the sheltering arms of teammates and coaches holding them back. Highly disappointing as this season's first donnybrook.
Also, we have now lost two in a row to the MFY, which is enough to make me a little cranky about the Sox for possibly the first time all year. Now I can feel that Other Shoe™ just dangling, hanging by a thread.
The Sox must come back with 2004-style Schill and whomp ass tomorrow and then administer another all-day-long-country-ass-whuppin again on Sunday, Spring, Texas-style, with Ol' Phenom on the mound. They must not drop two series in a row to the bottom-feeding Yankees.
Also, since we used all the J-Boys today, if Jonathan gets to come in and strike a few bitches out and Oki wants to give some dudes the okie-doke, that would be fine by me.