Just got back from a concert and it’s late, so I’ll keep this post short. The game tonight was actually uplifting. For me, anyway. Pettitte was horrendous and the Yanks were taking a 10-1 beating and Beckett looked more like the Beckett of old. And then a miracle: We ended up scoring eight runs, homering off every pitcher the Red Sox threw out there except Bard. The power surge was encouraging. The fighting spirit was a good sign. The fact that we almost came back and tied the game after being down by nine runs was positive. Even Mitre’s outing was impressive. (Don’t get me started on Albaladejo.)
We’re not in first place tonight. That’s not wonderful. The fact that time is running out for Pettitte to be stretched out isn’t great. But I’m not panicking. I’m just not.
OK, so the concert I went to helped me forget this little losing jag we’re on. Even if you’re not into jazz, which I’m not, I recommended the music of Charles Lloyd and his quartet, including his new recording called “Mirror.”
Here’s hoping tomorrow is a better day, baseball wise.