Rangers 7, Red Sox 3 (Sunday)
Red Sox 3, Rangers 1 (Saturday)
Yes, Jed Lowrie is a wuss.* I was thinking this exact thought yesterday as I sat up in the shade, approximately 5000 rows back from the BAPL VIP seats in the 103 degrees at Rangers Ballpark. I mean, COME ON, I was doing just fine with a water drenched bandanna wrapped around my neck, dooshy little mist fan a-blowin’, and six-pack of ice cold Ozarka in the ice chest….jeez.
I was also there for the 102 degree sweat-fest the night before, but was Jed Lowrie? Nooooo! He was all dehydrated or some lame excuse from the night before, a game that, yes, you guessed it, yours truly was also at, sweating away 10 lbs of salt and lard.
ANYway, Saturday’s loss to my numero two-o team, the Boston Red Sox, wasn’t that hard to swallow. Jon Lestah pitched a gem (as did Colby Lewis), and t’weren’t no one was gonna hit that Beantown Badas$ on Saturday night.
What WAS hard to swallow was 1) The Ranger’s bullpen letting the BoSox get two more runs in the ninth, and 2) Vladdy’s ill-timed attempt to steal during the rally in the bottom of the ninth. BAD Vladdy, BAD!
Sunday’s scorcher saw another great pitching duel between Dice-K and C.J. Wilson. I gotta hand it to Dice-K, he pitched one helluva game when I thought he’d wilt by the 4th in the oppressive rising sun of Arlington in August. Sunday was also a bit of a reversal from Saturday night’s duel. This time, it was the Ranger’s CJ Wilson who did the out-dueling, with the Sox bullpen folding in the late innings.
I left the ballpark yesterday sweaty, happy, and probably mildly strokey.
Speaking of strokey:
One of the few benefits of risking heat-stroke in an August day game is the rampant lack of clothing on display by the fairer sex patrons at Rangers Ballbark:
* Multiple tanky-top wearing, flat-tummied, well-to-adequately cleavaged SWILFs baking their sweaty selves in the oppressive heat whilst hosing themselves down with mist bottles and mist fans.
* Several scantily clad original ILFs, of the young motherly sort, distracting me from the proceedings on the field.
* LILF night at the ballpark. Several drunken, scantily-clad Latinas generously displayed their assets during Saturday night’s contest. Muy bueno!
* A traffic directing PILF, of the gun-toting, badge carrying variety to and fro the stadium Saturday night. I was tempted to start a ruckus at the cross-walk with some hapless Bostonians just so she’d have to take me down.
Speaking of Boston fans, while your “LET’S GO RED SOX!” chants get annoying, I’ll take you folks at the ballpark any day over the obnoxious New Yorkers.
* For the sarcasm/humor-impaired, I’m only kidding. I don’t blame Jed for sitting out the rest of The Scorcher Series. I love Nolan Ryan but his down-playing of the eff!ing Texas heat is ludicrous.