Ted Lil-ly and the Toronto Blue Jays come to kick our butts to the curb, July 1, 2005

We need to erase the curse of Lil-ly. Maybe if we burn a roll of masking tape...
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Scruffy. I like scruffy.
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I don't think we need to question the parentage of young master Timlin.
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Crouching again.
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Miller and Foulke! It's an epidemic!
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Women: "Do these pants make my butt look big?"
Men: "I'll just keep this water bottle in my back pocket."
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It's a small smile, but it's a smile.
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Everybody looks good here.
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Billy listens politely to the proposal that there's something in it for him if he drops the odd grounder.
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Mark ponders; is today the day to tell Millar about his bad breath?
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"They're called Breath-strips..."
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Johnny consoles Billy when he can't singlehandedly come up with 16 runs.
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Trot at the plate! (One good thing about a blowout--you end up in the field box seats!)
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"Catch!"
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I would really love to know what they talk about in these conversations.
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Bellhorn's right arm looks okay, though he still wears the bandage for games.
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Pitchers come in many physiques.
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Brad Mills looks like he can't quite believe he said whatever Billy's laughing at.
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"You know, Foulkie, if we can get people to blame Bellhorn for everything it'll take some heat off you..."
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"The thing is, Boomer, she just keeps taking pictures... think you could just smack her? Just once?"
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"Can anyone tell me how to get back to the Mass Pike? ... Anyone?"
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Menino, Lucchino, and Wally: there's a trio for the ages.
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I hope everyone read the fine print about those raffle rings...
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"Race you back to the dugout?"
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