Odo limps off the mound after one pitch in the 2nd and I smoked a pack of menthols...

In due fashion, I was eating some wings on 7th right near Centro Ybor. The home of stabbings, extreme protesting and one busy 7-11 Convenience store. Prior to coming into the wing joint, I went in there to buy a pack of smokes. "You like baseball?" the overweight guy behind the counter asks.
"Do you not see the hat?"
"Er...here is a coupon," he moans.
He passed me the slip of 7.11$ voucher for a Rays game. Jesus, they cannot even give these tickets away. If they build it, they will come.
Where did I hear that before? No matter...I lit my menthol, inhaled and thought about the tall task at hand (no pun intended for Chris Sale).
I ordered twelve BBQ wings, strapped in and waited for the ride that was about to start on Fox Sports Sun.

There he was. The tall lanky Lakeland native Chris Sale. What's not devastating about him? He has two fastballs that rev up to 96-98 MPH that work each part of the strike zone, an awkward Polk County Condor delivery and a disgusting breaking pitch he'll drop in there in the mid-to-low 80s. If you look at Chris Sale, he looks like a guy who you'd find shoulder to shoulder with in some shit hole bar in Central Florida with blurry faces like me. I'd haunted my fair share of bars and he seems to fit that mold to a tee. I don't wish this onto anyone but with those mechanics (been compared to Hall of Famer Randy Johnson) you wonder how long that arm holds up until something breaks down?
On our side, my man, Jake Odorizzi. The most steady guy in our rotation last year and looking for a bounce back start. Top of the first and Sale just mows them down. No problem. He works quick. Grabs the ball and pitches. Pounds the zone. Moves the pitches in the lower part of the zone. Gets Souza, Bourjos and Longo. No problem.
Bottom of the 1st. Oddo takes the hill and has to battle a bit but leaves unscathed. Top of the 2nd. Sale does what he does best. Bottom of the 2nd. Oddo ptiches then immediately grabs his hamstring. FUCK MY LIFE.
It reminded me of the feeling when Matt Moore threw that pitch back in 14' then grabbed his arm and had to get Tommy John Surgery. Still, it was his leg he grabbed, not his arm. Out comes Ron Porterfield (athletic trainer) and Captain Personality Kevin Cash. They have a little conference on the mound, Oddo takes a couple of pitches and winces each time. Out ya go bubba. In comes Erasmo and warms up in front of a very thick Red Sox lineup. Erasmo Ramirez was the feel good story of the first half of 2015. His first pitch was a fastball up to Mitch "two bags" Moreland who sends it to left field. Red Sox up 1-0. Erasmo gets through the next three on hard contact and limits the damage. Top of the third. Chris Sale begins getting out of whack a bit, walks two and Longo singles up the middle and gets Kevin Kiermaier in. Tie game. Erasmo holds them in check and finishes with 4.0 IP, 3 H, 2 SO. Not bad for a long man.
Our hitters couldn't figure out Sale BUT I noticed when he inherits base runners, he slows down and that's a sign of his weakness and a team needs to learn how to exploit that. Unfortunately, we didn't. Bottom of the 7th and Tommy Hunter is on the mound. I think he gave up two hits. We got an out somehow but I want to focus on how awful of a defender Tim Beckham is. Haunted or not by the 08' draft, get over it kid and DO YOUR FUCKING JOB. I am day dreaming about Willy Adames or Matt Duffy. He played so good in Spring, made the team and has played poorly ever since. With one out and men on 1st and 3rd, Daniel Robertson gets a ground ball sent to him at second base from Sandy Leon, he flips to Tim Beckham at 2nd for one, then Beckham doesn't throw to 1st in order to get the double play and getting us out of the inning. He doesn't even attempt a throw. Mitch Moreland scores and we get the next out.
We had a shot to score from a struggling Matt Barnes who essentially walked the bases loaded, got an out then induced a double play. Top of the ninth, Craig Kimbrel comes in and slams the door.

Shaking my head in disapproval, I go outside and begin chain smoking. Strawberry was visiting someone out in Tampa today, which meant I was alone aka I was going to drink myself silly. I stood on the street of 7th and admired the beauty of people. Men with potbellies smoking cigars with their wives and wavy hair. Children looking dumbfound into the screen of their phones, Spanish dudes looking curious, homeless people who've been decimated by crack and sunburn and bikers coasting by slowly.
"Hey buddy, can I bum a smoke?" this teenager asks.
"No sucker. Smoking kills,"
"Then why do you do it?" he snapped back.
"Because of Tim Beckham,"
The sun was setting in the Gulf.