Blog No. 3: High Holy Heat

Below is a picture my niece, Katy, bought for her dad, Spencer May, my brother in law, for Christmas. You can click on the drawing to see the image enlarged. Katy asked me to write a caption for the picture, which has something to do with the movie "The Heat," which I’ve never seen, obviously.

I don’t know why she asked a nice Jewish boy to write the caption, but anyway, in the spirit of the season, the copy I sent her is below the art.

Happy Holidays.

R

High Holy Heat

Two outs here in the bottom of the ninth at historic Fenway Park.

The Sox are trailing the Yankees 4-2, but the bases are loaded.

The Sox have Paul on first, James on second and Peter on third.

Now the wind shifts and is

blowing from the Green Monster in left, toward right field.

The Sox’ manager, Father Ted McDonough, motions to the umpire for time out.

McDonough’s calling for a pinch hitter.

Now replacing Dwight Evans at the plate is the pinch hitter, No. 1, the left-handed hitting Son of God.

It says that on his jersey. Really.

His career was resurrected after a series of difficult events, which really left him seemingly alone and in a cave.

For a while, he was dead to the Sox.

In fact, its a miracle he’s with us tonight.

Mariano Rivera is pitching for New York.

That’s strike two as Rivera sneaks a split-fingered fastball across the plate.

It’s a thorny situation for the Boston hitter.

The Fenway faithful are nervous:

“That guy’s beard looks bad,” said one fan.

“I think he’s hurt, he’s bleeding from the wrists and ankles,” said another devotee. “It’s worse than Kurt Schilling’s sock.”

“Jesus H. Christ in a shithouse,” muttered another fan. “This is tense!”

“My Chowder’s cold,” said another follower.

It’s Boston’s last best hope.

Rivera’s in the wind up, here’s the pitch….

There’s a mighty swing, and at the crack of the bat the ball seems to leap as fast as lightening.

The wind is suddenly picking up, pushing the ball to right.

That ball is hit deep to right field.

It is high.

It is far.

Boy, he really crucified that one.

Jesus Christ, it’s a home run.

The Sox win! The Sox win!

Christ floats around the bases.

His teammates squeeze his hand as he crosses home plate. Several make a sign of the cross.

No one pats him on the rear end.

Final score is Boston 6, New York 4.

Holy moly, that hit seemed like devine intervention.

—— Curt Gowdy, WBZ broadcaster

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