Middlebrooks (at right) with college pal.
Folks, we are officially living in Middlebrooks Standard Time.
From this moment on, everyone I know is Will Middlebrooks. The guy who sells me the racing card at the track is Will Middlebrooks. The bouncer who wakes me up in a pool of spilt beer and disillusionment and asks me to kindly get my ass out of his bar is Will Middlebrooks. And the women who point and laugh and flaunt their freshly-minted restraining orders are also Will Middlebrooks.
Hell, I just like the way his name rolls off the tongue. Middlebrooks. Middlebrooks. Say it with me.
It’s a Middlebrooks world. And after he went 3-for-4 with yet another home run in yesterday’s win over the Braves, he is officially THE third baseman for the Boston Red Sox. At least until Youkilis decides to cockpunch him into the next dimension.
Youkbacca may be gone by the end of the day–off to another team, greasy beard and shiny dome in tow. I’ll miss the guy. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited about The Summer of Middlebrooks.
Try to spend your Sunday acting a little more Middlebrooksian.
Also, Middlebrooks.
