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Sayonara, Schilling

Matsui is your Daddy. Don’t tell me about the ankle. If you had a sliver of the bones Mo showed just by showing up, never mind shutting the door at the end, you would have figured a way out. Sheffield’s been playing with an arm he can’t lift above shoulder level all year without it screaming. When Gut Check Time came, you got a beating, and your words to the media afterwards makes it sound like you’re looking for a backdoor exit. If it was that bad, you should have never taken the ball.

Screw the rally; the shot fell short, then Bernie and Mo (homegrown guys … do you schmucks even have any?) slammed it right back down your throats.

Bring on Pedro and his midget. The “Who’s Your Daddy?” chant had its warmups last night; time to bring it out in force and dump it on your headcase, see if he melts too.

And why the hell does Manny even own a fielder’s mitt?

UPDATE: Some members of the Nation think I’m (which is the least foulmouthed …)”irrational” in my gloating over last night.

Nay, I say! If Schilling’s ankle is really barking, he’s probably through for the rest of the way (unless–maybe–it goes seven games). If it isn’t, then he got his head kicked in, and either of those scenarios means the Sox entire season could rest in Pedro’s hands tonight. I’m more than happy, because the Yanks have owned him over the last couple of years (last 23 starts against the Yanks, Yanks won 17). And I’ll take the Yankee bullpen over any other team’s in a heartbeat.

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