Tim Wakefield... what can one say, really?
44 years, 288 days old? Un.Buh.Lievable.
Here youth, unchanging, blooms and smiles,
Here dwells eternal spring,
And warm from Hope's elysian isles
The winds their perfume bring.*
You know not only was Wake amazing last night, but when you factah in the timing and the need with the injury situation, well, it's the stuff of legend.
As we approach that critical June 1st inflection point, you've got to be feeling pretty good.
If you told me a month ago that I'd be looking at 25-21 club a ½ game off the lead, I'd of called you a crazy sonavabitch.
Seriously, here we are a month after the worst staht evah, and we're all feeling as giddy as Tom Brady on a Mexican pool slide.
Now if it would only stop raining.
The rain is ruining my summah!