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WSI News - Totally Biased Game Recaps

Ross Gload Is Swell

April 24th, 2007 at Ross Gload' Raging Royals

Back to the Grind,
or Just Grinded?

Today's Sox cut of meat:
Ross Gload
Beef Wellington

Short Take:   Gload Comes Up Short

Our vaunted hero stood in the dugout wondering who'll stop the rain, his eyes wandering across the soaked field, Ross Gload paced curiously as when the game would begin. An umpire or someone alerted both teams that the game would begin at nine o'clock. Nine! What kind of nonsense is this. Gload had to wait two whole hours to play ball. Unfazed by the horrid news, the upbeat Gload wandered deep into the clubhouse, his wit and humor unmatched by anyone, he grabbed a gigantic economy size roll of toilet paper. Gload carried this roll of toilet paper to the lower concourse and began unrolling the roll of TP. He wandered around the entire stadium and back into the clubhouse where he placed on end in the toilet. Then in a He-Manesque voice, he announced to the sparse crowd "I'm going to flush this toilet and before the whole roll ends up in the can, we will begin playing baseball." The crowd applauded will glee and Iron Man Gload hit the flush button. The paper raced into the toilet like Dale Sr. making the rounds at Talladega. Whipping past the feet or undaunted spectators, the paper whisked by as aghast fans gasped in horror. As time wandered by, the paper trail was getting smaller and the clog deeper, ole Ross had the crowd in an uproar and the game was set to begin soon. At the moment Blue #8 came out and said "Play Ball," the paper was completely sucked up by the toilet.

Old man Erstad steps into the box wearing Ross Gload's old jersey #17. However, the excellent Erstad is so self absorbed that he ripped Gload's name off the back and had his own pitiful name stitched on. A catchers interference call sends Erstad to first and Iguchi to the plate. The pitch came sailing in and blast, Gooch sprinted towards first base, a double was sure to happen. But alas, our hero dives over friends and foe to make a diving catch. Gload's Glorious Gang erupts in cheer. The cheers were soon silenced as Konerko drove in a run.

The bottom of the first comes around and. With two runners on base, our hero stepped into the box. His heart was a flutter as the fans gave Gload an ovation not seen since the days of George Brett and Bret Saberhagen. His eyes sparkled and he peered deep into Vazquez's mighty manmade eyes. With a slight of hand, this modern day John Henry hammered down the spike of death on Javy Vazquez. Two runs crossed the plate and the fleet footed Gload made it to third standing up. With his strength and agility, our hero could have easily embarked on a journey home to make the game 4-1, but his conscience set it and he was content with not showing up his former mates. The crowd erupted again, you'd have thought Syd Barrett was back from the dead with this applause. Former Wal-Mart greeter Alex Gordon singled Gload in and the game was 4-1 after the first. It was 1985 all over again, Royal Blue was all the rage amongst the fifteen thousand strong in attendance as Gload stepped gracefully onto home plate.

Come the fourth inning, the Sox legged out a couple a double and Juan Uribe continued his tear on opposing pitching like Daniel Boone tearing up the Cumberland Gap. And voila, it was 4-3 Sox.

There's more? Indeed there is. The mighty Erstad, so proudly wearing the famed number 17 steps into the box leading off the fourth inning. Nothing can stop this crazy diamond. The crowd is now silent and one can hear St. Rita's very own Ed Farmer clamor for a bloop and blast to the lead. Erstad is just too strong and awesome to hit bloops. Tony now makes his way into the park. And upon his entrance, the elated Erstad belts a double into the outfield. Nowhere near Ross Gload, of course, as he has such range and admiration that nothing can stop him. Konerko drove home Erstad. It was bliss.

Need not worry folks, Ross Gload comes to the plate. Nothing and one as a fastball sails across the middle of the plate. He steps out of the box and carefully adjusts his pristine batting gloves. Not once, but twice. With the bat cocked between his legs Gload spits to the ground and ever so slightly pulls the velcro from his left glove with his right hand to tighten it. He then preforms the same procedure with the left hand! Amazing, not only can he pitch and hit, he's ambidextrous! What a guy. Stepping back into the box, he takes a slight practice swing over the plate as he gathers his stance. Ball one. With that, Ross exits the box, with his mammoth bat in hand he taps his cleats to rid it of the vile dirt stuck to the spikes. Again, he spits, this time directly in front of him. Nothing, but wonder and amazement settles through the crowd. The gloves are once again adjusted and our hero makes his way into the box. The practice swing again. Not once, but twice. The pitch... Way outside. Vazquez was looking to put that bad boy in the Missouri River. The eagle-eyed Gload had other ideas as his sheer brainpower told him to lay off the pitch. A good call indeed. Ball Two. And without fail, Gload steps from the box, the gloves adjusted, the saliva spit, the cleats tapped. Like and soldier and his routine. Back into the box. No time for practice swings, the wild eyed Vazquez puts once on the outside corner of the plate. A ball? A strike? What was the call? Blue #8 steps back ever so slightly and raises his arm as "Strike" leaves his mouth. The crowd boos in disbelief. Litter clogs the field. Well not really, but Gload Gang of Good Guys gets geared going good. Unfazed by their worried, Gload repeats his routine of the spitting, adjusting and sheer amazement that is him. He steps into the box awaiting the next pitch. Vazquez grabs the signal and gets set to pitch. The ball leaves his hand, but it is too late, time was called by the man with the mask. Gload steps from the box and looks over at Buddy Bell. His routine satisfied again and back into the box. The count sits at 2-2. Gload awaits the pitch. The pitch comes and blammo, ball number three. What is one to do? The full count, the runners await the sign from their coach. Something about the Ozarks? Gload sets in on the 3-2 pitch, a fastball down the middle. He vulcanizes that bad boy and laced a rocket down the first base side, but alas, this ball is foul. Disappointed, Gload skips the routine, he swallows his spit and leaves the dirt on his spikes. Like that, another pitch comes his way. Like any mademan slugger, Gload unleashes a fury on this one. Deep into centerfield it sails. BA is there, he looks up, and easily makes the catch. Vazquez has vanquished the beast that is Ross Gload. For now...

Enter the sixth inning. BA follow up of Mack single with a single of his own. Who comes up, but another hero, Erstad. As Erstad steps into the box, once again, he sees Tony. And what happens, you ask? Double. Sox lead 6-4

Onward to the seventh. Wither Ross Gload? He is out of the game, replaced by some hipster named Brown. Are you kidding me?

The bottom of the seventh sucked. The Royals tacked on three runs and Ross Gload was out.

Inning #8, what is going on? A sandal is out there in the middle of the field. A sandal. Enter Joe Crede.Just prior to his canonization, indubitable nice-guy Joe Crede deflected the southpaw's trenchant gaze with a cursory glance to right field, as if to say, "After I obliterate your next pitch in that general direction, to show I am incapable of harboring a grudge, I'll pay your kids' tuition for life." Home run, tie game. What a night.

To the ninth, somehow, the Sox managed to score of couple of runs without the aid of Erstad. How they did this, we may never know. What we do know is that Bobby Jenks came in the ninth and knocked 'em dead with his eighth save of the young season.


What a time to be alive

Back to the Grind Update:
 Indeed, the Sox grinded out a win. Grinders were Ross Gload, ERSTAD, Ross Gload, Tony, and Ross Gload

submitted by Ross Gload?.

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