I love me some Boston Red Sox, but I must admit I just cannot get enough of the Detroit Tigers coaching staff. I mean, look at them.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, calm down already. I know Jim Leyland’s the gen-u-INE article, a real old time baseball man. And I’d be lying if I said I’m not a tad concerned that his pitching staff is going to pants my Red Sox hitters while the Detroit line-up administers a collective swirlie to Lester and company; however, I feel I must point something out. The Detroit coaches, to a man, look like those guys you see sitting at the bar every afternoon down at the Blarney Rose knocking back Falstaffs and bumps, sucking on Lucky Strikes and mopping up plates of greasy corned beef and cabbage with wads of Wonderbread.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Game 3 in the Motor City on Tuesday. In Lackey (and the bullpen) we trust. Go Sox!