Game 96
All hail Monday’s hero - Nick Pivetta:
He mixed things up like an old cassette: a
slider as sharp as a bayonet, a
curve that was cooler than a Corvette, a
fastball that flashed by A’s like a jet. A
true gentleman and a wily vet, a
displaced starter who chose not to fret, a
long-reliever and true asset, a
stud who delivered his best game yet: a
6-inning show with nary a threat, a
13 K gem where he wouldn’t let a
guy get a hit. In truth, I’d’ve bet a
lot of money this switch wouldn’t net a
bullpen ace. It’s like Russian Roulette - a
deep-sleep potion used by Juliet - a
move more likely to end in regret, a
desperate act. Who knew that we’d get a
guy so calm, he does not break a sweat, a
tough-as-nails pitcher with a vendetta
punching out men like Tony Baretta.
Hope it lasts, that it’s not a vignette - a
thing that just fades like a silhouette. A
win brings me cheer like a French Baguette, a
late night cuddle with a furry pet, a
song by The Beatles (the best quartet). A
win brings water and water is wet. (duh.)
