These are the times that try men's souls. The springtime soldier and the Opening Day optimist will, in this crisis, shrink from the fandom of their team; but he and she that stand by it now, deserve the love and thanks of man and woman. The Red Sox, like hell, are not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. The baseball gods know how to put a proper price on their goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as A WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP should not be highly rated. Boston, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has declared that she has a right (not only to have a legion of douchebag fair-weather fans) but "to BEAT us in ALL GAMES WHATSOEVER" and if being beaten in that manner, is not tragedy, then there is not such thing as tragedy upon this earth.
With apologies to my man T. Paine.
Now let's get into the realm of tonight's baseball game. The Pink Hat Nation sweeps across the region tonight: this, back-to-back with the Yankee filth, is almost too much to bear. Some day we will repel these invasions, as Fort McHenry repelled the British, but alas, that day is not today, because let's be real: the Orioles have to stop sucking first. To reverse the trend tonight they will have to overcome Clay Buchholz, who probably owes his entire major league career to the 2007 Orioles, and the trend of the 2011 Orioles as well as Buchholz's track record against particular Orioles batters suggests he will obliterate us tonight as well.
The Red Sox lineup is also full of batters who feast on Camden Yards. Standing in their way tonight will be Zach Britton. If there's one thing that can make you feel good tonight it's Britton, because every indication is that he is a pitcher will not shy from stepping up and dominating the teams we dislike.
Imagine the day, my friends, when fans of other teams look at the upcoming series matchups and they see they are scheduled to face Matusz and Britton. Imagine their keening, their rending cries as they beat their chests, their pained faces as they raise their fists to the heavens. Imagine the rivers of tears flowing through the streets, the salt from which shall season the finest crab cakes you will ever taste.
 |  |