…I’m not too proud to admit that I had nothing to do with that win.
WHY AREN’T THEY LISTENING TO ME?????
I live in Manhattan, but my heart is on Lansdowne Street.
Look, I risked my LIFE last night dressed in FULL SOX GARB at a sports bar in Hell’s Kitchen. The least they could do is LISTEN TO ME as I scream at the flat screen while periodically ducking to avoid the steady flow of Budweiser cans and continuous assault of creative expletives from beefy men who just barely missed the cut at an open call for the “Soprano’s.” After all, I’ve been coaching these guys since I was 12 – without pay, I might add.
And who is this ridiculous relief pitcher with all the A’s in his name? “Aardvark?” Dump him. I can tell you the exact moment he lost the game…Jeter was on first, Bobby Abreu was at bat, and “Aardvark” kept looking over his shoulder at Jeter when he SHOULD have been focused on the batter (who NAILED the pitch, by the way – DUH). Jeter’s not a base stealer, and he was coming of the injured list. He was not the threat, and by taking his focus off Abreu, “Aardvark” threw a series of the most hittable balls I’ve ever seen. To his defense, they should have been on the mound calming him down as soon as Jeter made it to first.
That’s my rant for the day. This morning when I woke up, I immediately put on my lucky Sox hat and B shirt. Clearly, I need to start my Voo Doo earlier in the day. Although, I might not be able to take credit for tonight’s win (and they will win) since it’s Beckett on the mound.