Day Nine Hundred and Forty-Seven

The Third Zephyr Start

It's always just one inning. One inning where, if anyone were around to witness my actions - well actually, just mostly the words flying from my mouth - I'd have lost my testimony.  

Not my proudest moments.

Perks of away games and solo MiLB viewing parties, apparently. Only, party is an overstatement. Because I confess even to myself that am terrible company when Adam is working. 

I want badly to say that I can't help it. Because I probably can. With a lot more prayer. Like, a whole lot more. It's just...my blood literally feels like it's boiling when he pitches…like boiling water in a kettle. Only way to relieve the pressure is to violently scream it out. Kettle. Kendall. Fitting. Now if only I were black…like my little friend in the photo. Yes, I have a pet firearm that's been following me around lately. He promises loyalty and protection. Both of which I'm desperate for when Adam is away. 

Continuing…

Adam was lights out in the first. Then, for some lame reason, he turned them back on in the second. Doh! He shut them off again in the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth, and if not for that curse-worthy second inning (and trust me, it was VERY worthy of all my poor choice words), he'd have pitched a gem of a game. Because really, he threw quite well. The best he's thrown in a while. 

Now, if only I could get my hands on a magic inning eraser marker…anybody?

His line:

6IP, 5H, 4R, 4ER (all in the second inning), 2BB, 8K

And…His first W of the season!! 

Turns out maybe not all of my outspoken indecencies were necessary. Ok actually, after a 4-run inning with bases loaded and no outs, I retract my previous statement ;) 

But, he got out of it and performed well, even after the strain of a 30-pitch inning and 40 degree weather. I'm forever proud of all your hard work, Adam. XOXO.