Unacceptable


Photo from NBC Sports

What the hell was that? No, what the HELL was that? I am so very, very disappointed. You know why? Because it was always worse to have to face the disappointed coach or dad or what have you than to have someone yell and scream in your face and tell you that you suck. Because I’m assuming that you KNOW you suck.

And if you are not certain, last night’s score can surely provide some clarity for you on that point. Because if you gentlemen think I enjoy watching the Flyers score go exponentially upwards while I sit at Fenway and observe the Red Sox participate in a contest of ineptitude (luckily, the Blue Jays were just ever so slightly more inept), then you are MISTAKEN.

Because if you think you’re pulling that bait and switch, the ole’ “We’re not that good so no one expects too much from us oh wait a minute we’re in the second round up three games to none, hang on here maybe we’re good after all now people are starting to believe, oh that’s right, WE SUCK” then I have got some words for you, sirs. Those words being “Stop it.” Because I do not truck with that sort of behavior, gentlemen. And I will not stand for it.

So here’s what I have to say to you: you better straighten up and fly right and take care of business come tomorrow night because I have enough to worry about without you bozos futzing around on the ice and losing 4-0 to a backup goalie who is, in point of fact, NOT Ken Dryden or Patrick Roy or even Martin Brodeur.

Suffice it to say I am very disappointed in you, gentlemen. Get it together.

And you, Joshua Patrick Beckett? You and your ailing back or your avulsions or blisters or whatever else is bothering you? I’ve no patience for that either. Rub some dirt on it. Suck it up. I’m tired of all your lollygagging.

LOLLYGAGGERS, the whole lot of you.

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MAHK SAHVAHD

Photo from Boston.com

Now THAT’S what I like to see. That’s the way to reintroduce yourself to the playoffs.

Couldn’t have scripted it better, could ya?

Even if it wasn’t against Matt Cooke’s nefarious Penguins, it was still against that other Pennsylvania-based hockey team who previously employed Randy Jones, the player responsible for concussing Patrice Bergeron with a dirty hit in 2007. So I’m calling it a twisted sense of karma.

Perhaps the best part of the game – aside from the win, of course – was watching the tail end of the third period and the entirety of overtime at the Greek Corner restaurant in North Cambridge with the awesome staff whose concern over our service was secondary to yelling at the Bruins and dramatically pounding on the counter during the Bruins’ absolute onslaught of shots in overtime. Which is totally fine because I enjoy my local restaurant folk caring about the teams around here. And also, totally unsolicited plug for the Greek Corner restaurant but they serve the best avgolemono soup and lamb gyros I’ve ever had. You know, just in case you’re looking for a place for lunch. They’ll probably have the game on.

ANYWAY, the Bruins are doing a girl proud, no? And as often as I try to avoid being all mushy and girly about these things, look at Mark Savard’s face up there? How happy is that man? Don’t you just want to hug him? Perhaps after he showers and de-hockifies himself, but still. Maybe in this case you’d even forgo that sort of thing and just go right in for the hug like at the end of Rocky where Adrian totally doesn’t care that he’s all bloody and sweaty and snotty and what not and just goes right in for the hug because he finally went the distance? This is kind of like that, right? Except that Savard was fighting against Philadephia instead of being from there and he’s not Italian and there’s no Adrian and, okay, so really, it’s nothing like that. But Rocky IS my favorite movie and I haven’t seen it in a while and also I’ve got so much Mucinex and decongestant in my system, it might be making me imagine things. No matter. There will be a Game 2 and it will be exciting. And I suppose that’s what matters.

That and I hope someone buys Mark Savard a beer tonight. Maybe two.

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Round 1? Done.

Photo from Boston.com

I have a feeling we’re going to get along just fine, Miroslav Satan and I. He seems to have a vested interest in things that matter to me. You know, like winning. Like not being made a fool of. Like keeping me from throwing shit at the television. He cares, that Miroslav. He just wants me to be happy.

I’m also fond of David Krejci. He can stay. And Tuukka Rask. Primarily because “Tuukka” is really fun to say and always sort of makes you feel like you’re spouting nonsense. Plus he’s good at this hockey thing. Which is especially nice considering that he’s something insane like 12-years-old. Or 23, but still, a mere infant. I realize it’s not to do with his age that he looks like he has a tiny, tiny head when he takes his helmet off but rather its to do with the fact that hockey goalies wear an insane amount of padding and therefore, all kind of look like shrunken heads minus their helmets. But he’s just so…wee. I just hope they’re nice to him in the NHL.

I would be remiss if I didn’t give credit to NESN reporter Naoko Funayama who, even when asking Partice Bergeron and David Krejci the tough questions, essentially, “You’re not really very good, this team, what does it feel like to be good?” never lets on how badly they smell. And as a girl who has a younger brother who spent his formative years in an ice rink and skating circle drills, let me tell you, nothing smells worse than a hockey player. Nothing. I will not hear arguments to the contrary. All this is by way of saying that Funayama better be given a case of Febreze after every game.

Poor Ryan Miller. He just can’t catch a break, can he? Not that I mind at all how this turned out but I still think he was robbed of a gold medal and I hope he gets some nice apologies in the form of fruit baskets or video game gift certificates this off-season. Though perhaps it’s best for everyone is he stays away from Blades of Steel.

So it’s either Canadiens or Capitals in the next round. Which means these Bruins have to face either the Canadiens of decades-long rivalry and hatred or Alexander Ovechkin and his endless band of syncophants which is just slightly less obnoxious than Sidney Crosby and his band of same. Though, on the whole, I’ve less of an issue with Washington because no one on their team took out Marc Savard for the season with a cheap hit, Matt Cooke. However, if I had a choice (and the NHL has still refused to ask me what I want, just an oversight, I’m sure), I’d pick the Canadiens. Because it’d be nice to get the chance to slay that beast again.

And since the Red Sox currently can’t decide whether they enjoy winning games or would rather be the kind of team that loses in extras to the Orioles, and the Patriots’ draft picks are failing drug tests (smacks forehead), I’m going to ignore them until they get their act straight in favor of the black and gold.

Say it with me now: Bruins, the Bruins what?

Edit: Dammit, apparently I have been given misinformation and now we have to play the Penguins? Matt Cooke, you are in the crosshairs, sir.

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Attention Addict

Photo from TSN.com

Apparently, Kevin Youkilis does not care for the Bruins getting all the attention around these parts. As such, he decided to put on his own show in extras with his 12th-inning 3-2 count, walk-off double. Which marks, in case we are counting, the second night in a row the Sox have had a walk-off. Which is promising insomuch as one cannot have a walk off if one doesn’t then go on to win the game. And we like winning games around here. Especially because the division competition is taking no-hit bids into the 8th and what have you. We shall take all the winning we can get.

I have chosen to believe that the Sox early season struggles have more to do with their desire to be the only act in town and have all eyes on them than it does with their inability to play consistent baseball. What I’m saying is, they’re acting out. With the Bruins and the Celtics in the playoffs, the Sox are feeling like they do not have everyone’s undivided attention and like only children everywhere who suddenly find themselves with a little brother or sister, they’re throwing a temper tantrum and want us all to pay attention and tell them that we love them the best and the mostest and they are the prettiest.

So yes, Red Sox, we’re paying attention. But now it’s time for the tough love. And so long as the Bruins keep winning hockey games in hyper-dramatic fashion and the Celtics keep mauling opponents – with or without Kevin Garnett – our attention will be a bit divided. And you, dear Red Sox, can deal with it because for nearly five months of the year, you are the only act in town. So I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you allow us to spread our attentions out for as long as it’ll last. Think of it this way, if we’re watching the Bruins or the Celtics, we’re less inclined to be making fun of Dustin Pedroia’s Napoleon complex or fully exploring what the deal is with David Ortiz. And I’m thinking the less time spent on that, the better.

So thank you, Sir Youkilis, for the win. More of that, please.

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Hail Satan?

Photo from Yahoo! Sports

So I don’t know about you but I’m excited about the headlines in the morning. Endless puns on Miroslav Satan’s name are awesome. Not quite as awesome and Cam Neely prowling like a caged tiger in the fancy box and absolutely losing his shit like a frat boy at the goal but fewer things in life are cooler than Cam Neely.

HJ theorizes that Lindy Ruff will make the entire Sabres team file past Ryan Miller on their way onto the team bus and apologize. Just an endless parade of “Sorry, Ryan.” Because he kind of deserves it. Not that I am unhappy with the outcome, for sure. Just, you know, Ryan Miller probably now hates Canadians AND Czechs and if this keeps up, he’s going to run out of nationalities he finds palatable.

Too many men on the ice? Isn’t that our game?

Also, apparently earlier tonight JD Drew hit a grand slam so obviously, we are in the end times. The Sox are presently tied at 7 in the 12th inning and either they finish this up in the next five minutes or I’m going to pass out on my keyboard. Double overtime games take a lot out of a girl, you know?

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A math problem

So, um, I know we’re mostly for wild preditions and delerious flights of fancy around these parts but I do wonder if the Red Sox understand the underlying mathematical issues happening on this young season.

For instance, if there are five teams in the division, and, at most, two of said teams make the playoffs, and the Red Sox currently cannot beat two of the five teams, where does that leave them come playoff time?

I understand that with the currently robust 4-8 record, the “playoffs” are a far off land of legend and mystery but, I’m just saying, I don’t think it’s completely out of the question that they be attempting to, you know, WIN some games now. I try not to be unreasonable with my demands, I really do. But losing twice as many games as you win is just, well, that’s just poor baseball is what that is. That’s Pittsburgh Pirates shenanigans and unless the Sox are going to take to wearing painter’s hats and singing “We Are Family” between innings, the Pittsburgh Pirates they are not. And this being Major League Baseball and not the National Hockey League, one does not get points for trying real hard. There are no “good job” standings for losses in extra innings.

So my advice to you, dear Red Sox, is to straighten up and fly right, because, with the understanding that it’s only April, you are digging a mighty big hole for yourself, standings-wise and I do not have the resources to rent you guys an excavator large enough to set things straight. And before you know it, it’ll be August and we will all be faced with the possibility of a repeat Yankees World Championship and, frankly, I am not certain I can stomach that sort of thing.

Do it for the children, won’t you?

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Presumably both the Red Sox and Bruins were also distracted by the impending arrival of the world’s cutest baby

I mean, I know I was. As such, I’ve fallen down on the job and don’t have word one to say about yesterday’s losses. No wait, I do have one word. “No.” That’ll about cover it.

You see, I was busy waiting for news of, and then visiting Mr. Max, aka Nighthawk, aka, the Coolest Baby Ever. First Nefyoo for Basegirl, son of non-biological sister KK. (Look, when you’ve known the kid’s mom since her day of birth, there’s a cosmic significance to that sort of thing). Anyway, Red Sox Nation, despite the loss, can rest easy knowing that your numbers have increased by one. Max’s dad greeted his son’s entrance into the world wearing a Sox t-shirt and hat so the kid’s already been indoctrinated.

I promise to get back on the stick shortly and report on all things sporting.

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