Next Time, Just Kick Me in the Nuts

Seriously, Red Sox. All of you. Just show up, give me the quick cleat-to-sack, then head back to your mansions and 18 year-old girlfriends. Sure, it'll hurt. But the pain will be sharp, fast and furious, which I'd prefer to that slow water torture of a game last night against the Rays. From my slightly inebriated vantage point, everything was going great until the top of the seventh, when Lester hit Carlos Pena and Teets rocketed out to fetch him like he was shot from one of those "nana launcher" chairs. At that point, JL had struck out 10 and given up a paltry three hits; once the Parade of Relievers started, Oki and Bard had given up two hits before Lester even got his ass back to the dugout, allowing Pena to score and forcing me to crack my emergency Tagamet supply. Why not let JL try to work himself out of it? This was one of the questions I kept asking myself as I repeatedly slapped a nun in the ass. The next inning, Longoria -- who Lester had reduced to a Cra...