The wife needed to run an errand today in Manhattan and taking the subway was out of the question. Just too damn hot. She had to go to Soho, to be exact. Pearl River. So we dvr’d the afternoon game between the Yankees and Red Sox, got in the car, headed downtown, and tuned in to listen to John and Suzyn call the game. Didn’t take long for me to grow annoyed with Sterling–top of the first inning to be exact. I turned off the radio and missed him call Nick Swisher’s three-run home run as well as Andruw Jones’ solo shot.
We arrived in Soho to find street fairs–the bane of my father’s existence–all over the place. Gridlock. Douchefuck. I dropped my Bride a few blocks away from Pearl River and then spent the next half hour making one trip around the block, slowly losing my patience. I’d put the game on, listen to a few pitches then turn it off. By the time she was finished and met me a few blocks away from the store I was plenty sore and also I had to take a leak. But the Yanks were up 6-1, so there was that.
I could have stayed pissed but it was like getting over the flu. You can bitch about having been sick or be happy that at least you’re not sick anymore.
Course we hit traffic on our way back to the West Side Highway and my bladder took a beating with every pot hole we ran over. The wife was scared to say anything. Relief was had once we got to Fairway on 125, where we shopped and and then enjoyed listening to Chad Qualls close it out in the ninth on our way back to the Bronx as the Yanks cruised to a 6-1 win. Jones hit another homer, Jason Nix hit a bomb, and Freddy Garcia, yeah, that Freddy Garcia, put heads to bed, as he pitched into the seventh. No Pedrioa, no Middlebrooks and the Yanks took advantage.
Final Score: Yanks 6, Sox 1.
A most satisfying win. Worth dealing with with the hassle of lower Manhattan on a hot summer Saturday.
[Photo Credit: Eric L. Bowers]