::Yesterday, 6:30pm::


I’m feeling good. Ready to rock the house.


Yeah, about that. I’m calling for a change of strategy.


Que?


If you win them all, as the 2011 Red Sox are quite clearly capable of doing, you become a moving target. The one everybody starts gunning for. The one everybody wants to see fall.


And?


I don’t need that bullshit pressure. So I need your help.


How?


Walk a shitload of batters.


That runs contrary to my Jedi training.


I understand. Also, I hear Pawtucket’s lovely this time of year.


But my teammates…


They’ll understand. Trust me.


I don’t like it. But I obey.


Good to hear. Now make me proud, Pacifier.

::Top of the second::


::Walks Maybin::


Take it easy, chromedome. These are the Padres. The last place Padres.


::Walks Hundlin::


[Spanish for "Throw it over the white thing"]


::Walks Denorfia::


SUNUVABITCH I WAS ORIGINALLY THINKING “WHAT KIND OF NAME IS ‘DENORFIA'” BUT NOW I AM WONDERING WHY I DON’T JUST CHARGE THE MOUND AND BURY A KNIFE IN YOUR SKULL.


::Sighs, walks Bartlett::


HE DID NOT JUST WALK FOUR STRAIGHT BATTERS. SWEET HOLY F$%K THAT DID NOT HAPPEN.


::Makes sign of the cross, walks Headley::


::fashions jockstrap into crude facemask; writes “for Alfredo” on it::


::shuffles back into dugout after walking in two runs:: I have shamed myself before my teammates and fans. I hope you’re happy.


Actually, I am. And don’t sweat those guys. They’re professionals.

::Later, back in the clubhouse::


…it was an off night. Anyone can have them.


Right. Anyway, we took a vote. I’m here to tie you to the floor with your own colon.

(Of course, we have nothing but respect for Alfredo. A timely hit could have made all the difference last night. But after all that The Gonz has done for us lately, to bitch about that spirit-crushing bases-loaded K to end the fourth somehow seems wrong.)