michelel72 (michelel72) wrote,

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Philly Follies

Ah, interleague play. BOS at PHI. You haven't lived until you've seen four American League outfielders wandering around left center field in a National League park, trying to sort out whether they had actually done that NL "double switch" thingy and therefore who should go sit back down. (Answer: No, they hadn't. Dustan Mohr, you win a free trip back to the dugout!)

Other sights to warm the heart:

o Pitcher Matt Clement "swinging" a bat. Or wandering around confusedly beyond first base when, instead of being thrown out, he is being awarded second base because the throw went into the photographer's well (because he hit the ball off the pitcher's leg and toward the shortstop, who then misthrew). Or standing on second, looking around like a lost lamb trying to find its mother, waving exaggeratedly at the third base coach to figure out what those "signs" mean. Or scampering to third on a deep fly ball as if all he wants is to get near a friend from his team, still looking completely skeptical of this "baserunning" concept. The postgame announcers say he used to be in the National League; I'm not sure I believe that.

o The rogue's gallery in the dugout. Josh Beckett, Curt Schilling, and I think Julian Tavarez were sitting all together, handily grouping our three most excitable pitchers in one convenient camera shot.

o Wily Mo Pena ... doing pretty much anything, really. He seems like a nice guy, and he is shaping up to be a good player. But he can also whiff a nice strong swing a good foot away from the ball, and when he's out in the field ... hee! He seems to misread every hit and then he runs like an unathletic 12-year-old girl flailing her way down a hill, yet he ends up in the right place and makes the right play (unless he's in Fenway's right field). Some large men are surprisingly graceful; Pena is about the least graceful athlete I've ever seen. He moves like he assembled his body from spare parts and they don't quite fit, or as if he's being operated by remote control. Good times.

o Schilling watching the game from the dugout, arms resting on the screen, head resting on his arms, gazing with pure adoration at young Jonathan Papelbon on the mound. After seeing his expression, I wouldn't have been at all surprised to then see him mouthing, "He's so dreamy!" and giggling.

I never ever again want to see Papelbon slip fielding a ball and flail like a horse with a broken leg, but since he was fine, seeing the entire team staff descending on him to be absolutely certain he wasn't so much as scratched made for another chuckle. And of course the fact that they won -- Papelbon securing his 14th save (out of 14 opportunities) -- was just the powdered sugar on the beignet.

Or the Cheez Whiz on the Philly cheesesteak, if you will.
Tags: redsox

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