As TFran noted below, 9-2 isn't just having having a fit, it's getting pummeled.
As miserable as the game was last night, it was nice to watch sports again with DH. During Lent, he gave up TV during the work week, so we weren't watching much TV at all, recently. But even before then, the NHL-season-that-wasn't had an impact on our typical winter evening interactions.
I've liked sports since I was a little girl. I have often explained that when you have four older brothers and a Dad who rules the TV, you learn to like sports or just go do your own thing. I did my own thing a lot, but I loved hanging out with the boys, who were all very indulgent of their "baby" sister, and explained things to me. I still get a kick out of making a comment a second or two before the announcer does, about why a particular play failed or succeeded, or what penalty would be called. ("Hey! He was offsides!")
Anyway -- I've missed it, without even knowing I missed it. DH is annoyed with the Sox's inability to hit Randy Johnson and field a decent pitcher themselves, and he has a right to be frustrated, certainly. "They're already one game out of first place," he said last night.
"And how many games behind were they at the end of last season?" I reminded him -- because the Yankees did beat the Sox in their division, but we went on to win it all anyway.
There's a long season ahead of us. Games played in April are more or less meaningless extensions of Spring Training. No matter. In time, Schilling will be back and the rest of the crew will find their bats again, and by Memorial Day I expect things to be looking quite different.