Chip Caray Just Said...

...in reference to the Rays' start against grandpa Wakefield: "and a creative writing major couldn't of penned a better start!"

First of all, how long have you been sitting on that? Secondly, why? Third, if a creative writing major wrote a beginning to the Rays/Sox game, it would look more like this:

Setting: A brisk night in downtwon Boston. Tim, a man not short on years, enters the home players clubhouse 3 hours before the game's start.

Tim (to no one): It's perfect.
Francona: I'm sorry?
Tim: It's all...just so...damn perfect. The leaves, the grass, the passing of one season and the emergence of another.
Francona: Yup. Well, Josh's arm is sore, so you're gonna have to go tonight.
Tim: Symmetry.
Francona: I'm sorry?
Tim: It's just perfect. How can something so large, so vast, be so perfect.
Ortiz: My wang?
Tim: The earth, David. Have you ever wondered how the same season's dawn upon us at the same time each year? How? Why? It's perfect symmetry, and it's wondrous.
Francona: Well...the, um, game starts in a couple hours. Do you need to toss at all?

(Dustin Pedroia enters from the outdoors, baseball in hand.)

Pedroia: Check it out, cockbreaths. I figured out how to throw knuckleballs like douchey-shitshimself here. And mine got some wicked-fuck heat, biz-notches!

(Pedroia uncorks a wild throw, striking Tim in the head. Tim falls in a heap to his death.)

Alanis Morrissette: Ironic.
Francona: I'm sorry?

Scene.