That could be the most frustrating game we've ever ended up winning.

Six innings of agony, finding new and exciting ways to leave runners on base. I hurt my hand. Bashing it on the wall. My outburst of choice has always been the open-handed slap of a door jamb, kind of like an angry high five. It always seems "safer" than an actual punch, but you end up with a bruised palm. And poor Peavy, he's pitchin' fine but home plate has a forcefield around it for our baserunners. Finally he gives up a run, but we fortunately break through in the next inning. A wild pitch ties it and a little grounder gives us the lead. What a joy it was watching Shane beat it out. Get out yo' seat and jump around. And finally we could go back to breathing. A little.

But Breslow did "Yo, Man!"'s work tonight. He was the calming influence we needed. Suddenly frustration turned to anti-frust. We tacked on a run on Dustin's sack in the 9th as they gave us the gift of Rodney, and Koji, who'd been in in the 8th, mowed 'em down in the 9th. No sweat. (I like how he accidentally put Longoria on his ass right before ending the series by punching him out.)

And of course I also love how Xander came in and ended up playing a key role. Okay, a role.

I'm glad I'm not sitting here writing about all the things that killed me in those first six. Maddon's pitcher brigade almost worked. Almost.

We're celebrating and moving on.

That A's/Tigers winner should be nice and tired Saturday night.