Wish I Were Eating Crow: But There's No Crow

I had a recipe picked out. I was going to bake that crow up in a nice humble pie and share it with whomever needed or wanted a piece. We were going to eat that humble crow pie at a big table, with everyone laughing and smiling, and enjoying the meal. Maybe there would have been some music. I would have provided lilacs from the garden, because they only bloom for a couple of weeks a year, and it would have been the perfect opportunity to use them. I had a whole dinner party planned, John Lackey, and now because of your performance, everyone has cancelled their RSVPs and I am left staring at this crow carcass that I am NOT eating. Thanks. Thanks for that.

As Blogger.com refused to acknowledge it existed this morning and would not let me sign in to post, I spent the morning making my blog rounds. Normally, I like to write my own post before I read everyone else's take on the matter, but I didn't have a choice this morning. I'm reading a lot about the bad times John and Krista Lackey have been going through. I feel for them. Honestly, I do. It sounds like they are getting wave after wave of bad luck and nobody deserves that. I felt my heart grow maybe a size. I gave Drew a pass when he was going through all the medical issues with his daughter. As much as I don't want to do this because I've never liked John Lackey and I never wanted him on my team, I'm giving him a pass. For this game only. Maybe John needs to take a couple of days and clear his head. I know he doesn't want to use it as an excuse, otherwise he would have come outright and said, 'I'm worried about my wife and I can't focus on this game,' but maybe just stepping away from the team for a while would help. I don't know. I'm not a psychiatrist.

In addition to the shitstorm that was another failed Lackey start, Ellsbury's hit streak came to an end, Jed Lowrie is sick again, and Pedroia continues to struggle. Five of our regulars are hitting under .250. Consider me frustrated.

Highlights? Believe it or not, I have a few! Wakefield became the oldest pitcher to ever don a Sox uniform. Though he didn't do much to help in the 7th, he long-relieved the rest of the game and didn't allow any of his own runs to score. Also? Ernie and Papi. Yes, I'm aware that doesn't have a nice ring to it, and I'm working right now to come up with a nickname for Gonzalez that compliments Papi. It's gonna take a while. I haven't had any caffeine yet this morning. That would probably explain why I'm extra cranky. Oh well.

We're faced with a much-needed off day. Lowrie will get better, Pedroia will find his swing, Papi and Ernie will put together a Vaudeville style show that will wow the masses and distract us all from the horrendous play of the Red Sox, and Jason Varitek will develop the ability to throw out baserunners after getting doused in radioactive slime. Also, he'll grow another head, and it will talk and look like Mike Lowell, and then my world will explode with awesomeness.