It is now officially over. My team laid down and got sexually assaulted by the Yankees for the last three games in a row, putting their end of season losing streak at 8 games to finish out the year.
Thanks to everyone who came by the blog this year and read my whining. I know there was a lot of whining, and a lot of sadness, but your visits cheer me up.
Congratulations and good luck to all the teams that made the playoffs... except the Yankees. F@!K the Yankees.
I hope everyone on the current roster is shipped to the Zimbabwe fall league this year, never to return. I'm glad to hear rumors that Bobby will be fired soon. It doesn't make me feel better, I'm just glad to hear it. And if somehow, in some terrible-miracle sort of way he manages to come back? I am turning in my Sox hat and going to live in a bomb shelter under a mountain somewhere. Listen to me, Lucchino! I do NOT want to live in a bomb shelter!
In what should have been a giant party all year long, celebrating the 100th anniversary of the park I love so much, there was just misery. We finished in last place, we lost the voice and the heart of the team (Rest well, Johnny and Carl), AND we handed the division to our rivals. On a silver platter, served on the backs of our pitching staff.
Can I call them pitchers? Throwers, maybe. These guys can't pitch.
So I hope when they clean out the lockers, the names that currently hang above them are never replaced. We clearly need some new blood on this team.
Also, I'll be DAMNED if this team gives Pretzels $100M. We've had enough of those kinds of mistakes.
So there you have it. A miserably, whiny post to conclude a miserable whiny season. I look forward to the winter and to watching how this team is disassembled and then put back together. Listen guys, even if next season is worse that this one, it at least won't hurt so badly, because we're ready for it. Enjoy cheap tickets at Fenway!
I'll see you all during the winter meetings.
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