Midge,

I know you don’t want to hear from me right now. Really… I know it. I know the Red Sox are in the post season, and not doing very well, but you have to meet me half way, or at least make some kind of concession.

I also know this is the deal: this time of year, if the Red Sox make it into October, I’m expected to take a

Rihanna level beating because you’re in the bar watching the games. And in past years, I think I’ve more than held up my end of the deal…more than held up. I mean, nine innings a night of black and tans, tequila, and/or Jack and Coke… I hemorrhage just thinking about it.

The Red Sox are your boys, and you’ve been hanging with them all season, (unlike that bandwagon chimp, Dave), and I’ve been more than generous when you wanted to go watch at the bar. But this post season is literally killing me. And I don’t mean just because of CB Bucknor.

The Angels are murdering your boys in the ALDS…right on national TV, and Don Orsillo is narrating it. The Pancreas and I were talking about it this morning and I know why you’re doing all this extra drinking: the Sox bats. They’ve had what? 8 hits in 18 innings? 1 run scored in 2 games? It’s like Lugo’s Revenge in Anaheim.

I mean, they fought so hard to get to this point all season and now after two games, everybody sucks at the plate. Ellsbury can barely get on base. Pedroia gets a hit but gets thrown out, Ortiz couldn’t hit an underhanded syringe right now, Youk is grimacing his way through the whole series, and JD Drew is…. eh, never mind.

You can credit Angels’ pitching all you like, but the amount of booze you’re putting down your gullet watching these past two games has been absurd. Understandable, but still absurd. Beckett was outstanding until the 7th when the Angels knocked him around for three hits, but he still got beat with no run support. Hell, the Angels don’t even need that damn monkey.

I’m dreading this game tomorrow. Please be gentle..but my heart, er…your heart is saying no way. Buchholz is taking the mound against that damn Kazmir and I have a feeling the Sox might win that one, but Game 4 will be the end of it. At least I hope so, because you’re no spring chicken, and frankly, I could use the break.

Internally yours,

The Liver