Dmitri Strikes Back

After experiencing a heart-wrenching comeback by the Yankees that makes you question the meaning of life, I was more than ready to watch some Tiger whoop ass. After Bronson took care of their lineup without much problem through the first three innings, and that rampaging offense of ours killed Douglass the second time in the order (and damn do we kill pitchers the second time), the stars looked aligned for an easy relaxing win. Or so I thought. Renteria with an RBI single, Ortiz with a three run jack, Nixon delivers his own on the center field fence and over, and by golly, its 6-0 Sawx! And Arroyo looks determined to actually win a game.

Feeling the game was in tact, I went out to dinner. Smiling, eating happily, talking, just a nice night knowing in the back of my head that Stephen King was probably pinch hitting and the Tigers had called up Hazel Mae to try to shut down this blowout. When I returned to my homeless station near Copley Square and flipped on my 72-inch big screen HD TV, I almost knocked over my penny bucket. The Tigers were up 9-8 and Jeremi Gonzalez was pitching. Yikes.

Naturally, I went insane. And as I was going insane, the Tigers were too. Gonzalez’s poor effort makes it 11-8, Remlinger makes it 12-8, and the game is over faster than my right thumb. The lesson today: Never, ever think that a Red Sox game is in the bag. Not even if they’re beating the Yankees 18-1 at Fenway and some guy named Melky is playing centerfield. Not even if they’re destroying the D’Rays by 22 runs and Dewon Brazelton is on his eighth inning of work. It comes back to haunt you in a bad, bad way.

The Yankees are a slim one and a half games behind our chuggin asses, and today we need a win more than any other day of the year. Because the Skanks are playin the RoyAAAls, so you know what that means. Robertson is pitching for the Tigers, a guy we saw a week ago in Detroit, and Boomah is goin for the Sawx. Sounds favorable to me. So bring out the BBQ wings, hot sauce, Lays sour cream and onion and lets chill with our favorite team on a Sunday afternoon.