Preface: I love Tim Wakefield. I love The Dancer. I love his WS Ring. I may even love his facial hair. God from God, light from light, true god from true god, begotten not made, one in being with the father. For reals.
And I know how much Wake does for The Kids. I know he's always got his cleats on. I know he gave up his Game Four start to try and salvage Game Three. I know he shaved his head with the rest of the guys in '03. I know he loves his son. I know the Russians love their children, too.
I'm just a little tired of his endless do-gooderism and humility these days. Am I the only one who remembers how he'd get a little snippy after a bad start? Not any more, I guess. Every time I see him on TV, it's "I'm just blessed to be playing a kids' game" and "Don't get mad at Josh Bard, it's my fault" and "I couldn't have done it without my teammmates picking me up" and how special everything is. How many Roberto Clemente awards can one guy amass, anyway?
PawSox return July 13th. Until then.
No comments:
Post a Comment