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This isn’t me. I am not a fat white kid working in finance who lucked into the company seats. I’m just the fat white kid in the bleachers.
But god damn if this isn’t how I feel. God damn if this isn’t the mood I’m in night in and night out watching my young large adult son Aaron and the rest of this team smash the living daylights out of the baseball night in and night out. Second only to the outrageously stacked and scorching hot Nationals in runs scored, on base, and slugging. Third in average. Second in home runs. And they’re doing all this without Gary Sanchez and, until last week, Didi Gregorious. Think about that.
They’re making up for night after night of brutal pitching performances with clutch, timely hitting. Give up four in the first? Get three right back in the bottom of the inning. Give up another two in the second? Get those two right back in the third. And then jump into the lead with a late rally and let the bullpen arms close it out.
Is that sustainable? Eh, proooobably not. I don’t know who to rely on in this staff outside Tanaka. But god damn is it creating some fun, exciting baseball out of this lineup. First in the AL East. Third best record in baseball. Damn near unbeatable at home. And I’m just here enjoying the ride and dabbing my face off.
And my oh my do I love my big baby boy
P.S. Also me
P.P.S. I now have a concussion
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