I Want to be Clay Buchholz for a Day

by OMDQ, One More Dying Quail

After the third inning, I thought to myself, "Hmm...Buchholz hasn't allowed a hit yet."

After the fifth inning, I looked at my father and said, "The kid's got a good game going."

After the sixth inning, I looked at my father again and said, "He has to be getting nervous."

After the seventh inning, I said, "If Buchholz finishes this, he owes Dustin Pedroia a beer or thirty."

After the eighth inning, my wife said to Julio Lugo, "DO NOT LOOK AT HIM, JULIO! DON'T YOU DARE!"

After the ninth inning, I said to no one in particular, "Papi, take your hands off of Clay's ass. He doesn't love you that way, even if you did just pitch a no-hitter."

And then I applauded, watched Tina Cervasio interview the awkward maestro who had just dazzled the Baltimore Orioles for nine innings and 27 outs, and wished I could know - if only for a moment - what it felt like to be 23-years-old and have 35,000 people screaming my name and standing on their feet to cheer my every move and loving me so unconditionally that it nearly reduced me to tears.

Congratulations, Clay. Welcome to Red Sox lore.

Photo: Yahoo! Sports/AP, Winslow Townson