This morning I met Mrs. Big Butt in the foyer, who told me Vin had been screaming "take it out" like a madman though his window the night before.
You mean "take *him* out," I asked, trying to stop my mind from wondering about the things Vinny got up to that I had no idea of.
Whatever, she snipped. I already reported him to the board enough times. I do it again and he's got trouble. You tell your friend he better chill the hell out, ok? He can't be acting crazy like that here. You tell him to buy a ticket and go to the game if he wants to act crazy.
OK, I'll let him know, I says. (Of course, I had to linger and watch her walk back to her apartment. That woman's abnormally large gravity-defying butt is just a spactacle to behold, and I'm normally not a big butt guy.)
I found Vin in his usual spot this morning, papers sitting on the bench beside him but his coffee and donut hardly touched. Rough one last night, said I.
He just shook his head. We had that game, he said. Even with our anemic offensive performance we had it.
I know Vin, we should have won, I said, noticing the cigarette burns in the eyes of Joe Girardi in the various papers.
Son of a bitch, he muttered. I feel like we got Charlie Brown for our manager.
Come on Vin, said I, it's not that bad.
Not that bad, he said, his voice crescrendoing. Not that bad? Eyes now lighting up with the crazed fires of the lost. We're witched, said he. Witched! 10 of the first 20 hitters reached last night and we get two runs?? That's almost not possible. It can't happen! Our pitchers got to just about throw a perfect game to get a win! Come on! What kind of shit is that!?
I've read you're never supposed to bet against trends, saif I.
Horse shit, Vin growled. Desperate men do desperatre things.
Shit here it comes I thought.
We're going to beat Pancetta tonight. (Porcello - Vin likes to call him Pancetta. Doesn't even rhyme...) We've had success against him in the past. (Not that much, he's 5-4 vs NYY in 11 starts) and even though Pineda's had a slow start he's been good at Fenway (3-0 1.42 ERA last three.) He's going to find the movement and accuracy/location on his fastball tonight!
Vin, it's going to be in the 40s tonight with a 7-12 mph wind going toward the monster, I told him. Did you actually read those papers or just burn them with cigarettes?
Desperate times, desperate men, desperate plans, he hissed. If Joe is smart (which time and time he's proven he might not be -Stand) he'll throw the kitchen sink at thsi game as will be boys, said Vin. This is ourchance not to get swept. Because tomorrow we face the left hand of darkness again, personified in David Price, and we're going to get taken to the woodshed on national TV. National goddamn TV. We gotta win tonight.
You should start getting the donuts with the pink frosting and sprinkles, I told him.
What, he asked, screwing up his face. You think I'msome kind of weirdo? I done a lot of shit inn my life but I ain't never gotten up to no funny business, said he.
That's not what I was taklking about but just stop yelling shit out your window, I said. People are starting to think you're crazy.
You know she really loves me, said Vin.
I don't think she does, said I. I hope lady luck hasn't had enough of your crap as well.
I shall visit my new Korean princess this afternoonsaid Vin. She's a fortunne teller to you know.
She know anything about baseball, I asked.
Oh yes he said with a wide grin. She knows when to dig in, when to wind up and when to release.
So there it is. Yanks in a desperation play to avoid the sweep --- as this is their last chance given the prophesied beating of Biblical proprtions coming up tomorrow night.
GLTA!
4/30/16 7:10pm MLB Baseball 973 New York Yankees +115* vs Boston Red Sox (M Pineda - R must Start R Porcello - R must Start)
Saturday extra - from Vin's all star highlight reel: