Cole Hamels took the mound with the poise and confidence of a rock star on a blind date. He sailed through the first inningùthree up, three down; beaned A-Rod with a pitch to staunch any intention he had of snuggling up to the plate, and then held the Yankees to one hit over three innings.
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But the night snuck up on him like a light weight on cheap booze. And by the fourth inning, hitting Hamels was like an Irish lass on Russian vodkaùeasy.
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Not that IÆd know anything about that.
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He took the loss on Halloween, no less. Like they say, candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.
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Just ask my husband.
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Whoops. Was I thinking out loud?
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Where were we?
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Oh, postseason pitching.
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I hoped Andy Pettitte would lose ...
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Article written by Flattish Poe
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