Things Just Keep Getting Better

(photos from

Those of you who come here for informed game commentary aided by the snarky are going to be a bit put out today. Because the game? Let’s just say Hoover makes a better product. The pitching? Matty is about one “ball four, high and outside” away from being bitch-slapped by Tek’s mitt. The hitting? Brutha, please. The bats, as Manny would say, are in a “coma.” However, we did get to see Manny, in pursuit of a routine fly ball (as much as anything is ever routine with that spaceshot out there) fall down, get up, STILL make the catch, and give Matty and everyone else on the field the double finger points, old school Pedro style.

And speaking of Pedro, he made an earnest bid for a no-hitter last night. He didn’t get it but he did pitch a complete game. I know some people want, or at least predict, that this is the year his arm will fall off. But I stand by my prediction that he’ll win the NL Cy Young. And that’s okay. I know Pedro was a jerk a lot of the time but goddamn, he was also Pedro Freakin’ Martinez. And he meant something. He still means something to us. I, for one, was rooting for the guy.

Also, it should be noted, the Yankees lost (again) to the Brew Crew. Granted, Milwaukee had Ben Sheets, their ace going, but it’s noteworthy that on successive nights, a Wang and a Johnson have left Yankees fans dissatisfied. And the phallic jokes come even before the Queer Eye rundown.

As for Queer Eye…better get this out of the way now: SQUEEEEEEEE! What else is there to say other than the fact that it was pretty much the greatest hour of television in the history of ever. I do not remember the last time I laughed that hard and for that long. (Hard! Long! I’m not even trying anymore.) Amy and I headed over to Annette’s with Marianne and the four of us ate pizza, drank girly drinks and watched our boys get their wax on. And just when you think it’s impossible to love a team more, this happens:

Mirabelli (getting his nails shaped) to Kevin Millar: How gay do you feel right now?
Millar (feet soaking in rose petal water): Whoever said gay was bad? I am now gay!

I fully expect that sound bite to show up on WEEI posthaste and for the entire right wing, conservative world to get their bloomers in a twist but me? I loved it. Every second of it. Everything from the camera cuts between Tek’s stoic grimaces while getting his back waxed to Wakefield screaming bloody murder at having his eyebrows tweezed. From Johnny Damon taking heat for having his own personal stylist to Tek claiming that he “just goes to the nearest Supercuts.” From Carson Kressley asking a small child if he could show him “anything in a sensible pump” to Kyan Douglas looking not entirely out of place in a baseball uniform. From Millar “pitching” to Little Leaguers and Wake mock-berating Carson for his shoddy fielding. All of it. It was good times.

Here’s where you boys may want to tune out. Because I’m about to tell you that I very nearly wet myself when Carson greeted Varitek by calling him “The Quadmaster”* and lifting up his terrycloth robe to expose the Thighs of Freedom. Not to mention that when Tek did show up (late, as he was playing an exhibition away game) he was choppered onto the field and the legend read “Jason Varitek Arrives” complete with dramatic musical crescendos and Steven Seagal-movie timestamp. And when he entered the media room-turned-spa, Millar greeted him be saying, “Hi, Cap’n.” Awwww! Plus, arms! Usually Tek is all about the legs but, arms! It’s fairly safe to say that my love for Jason Varitek continues to grow exponentially. Anyway…you were saying?

I must once again express how very, very proud I am of our boys for doing something like this. Not simply because it’s a great way to show tolerance for something that really, should so not even be an issue anymore in the year two thousand and freakin’ five but also because their main intention, aside from giving their fans a laugh, was to raise money to rebuild the Port Charlotte Little League field that had been devastated by Hurricane Charlie. And that they did. I’m not going to pretend like the best part of that show for me personally wasn’t seeing Varitek in a suit but the looks on those kids faces when they realized they were getting their field back was almost as good.

People have said to me “You realize that the Sox appearing on Queer Eye is going to put a lot of pressure on them. They’re going to get made fun of.” To which I’ve always responded, “More pressure than an 86-year championship drought? I don’t think so.” And as for the “making fun of” part? Do you honestly think the Sox take themselves seriously? I mean really, according to today’s Globe, the Sox go out of their way to keep from being too serious. To whit:

In a not-so-stunning upset, Kevin Millar was the talk of the day before the game even started for two reasons: No. 1, what he was wearing around 3:30 p.m., and No. 2, what he did about that time.

Millar, you see, was taking batting practice on an oppressive afternoon when the temperature hovered in the neighborhood of 90, and he was wearing nothing but cleats, socks, and compression (read: white Spandex) shorts that players usually wear under their pants.

”Couple of those people were on those tours, I saw two ladies throw up,” Francona said. ”Nobody should have to endure — there’s a limit to how much someone should have to endure. I know there’s about five coaches who feel a lot better about themselves right now.

While dressed down, so to speak, Millar accomplished a rather impressive feat, best recounted by Francona.

The skipper: ”I was standing in the bullpen. I hit a fungo as high as I could toward home plate. It didn’t quite get there. It was out near shortstop. He saw it coming, he got going as fast as he could with his bat and hit it, and hit it for a home run. I told him to go buy a lottery ticket. It’s [expletive] incredible.”

Oh, Red Sox. This is why I love them. They can be getting their asses handed to them by the Cardinals in some sort of watered down “revenge” on one channel and on the other, they’re whining about back waxing and playing baseball with Little Leaguers. I don’t care what anyone says, it’s a good time to be a Red Sox fan.

*Apparently the term was “Quadzilla” which I am certain I would have caught upon rewatching. But, you know, there was lifted terrycloth and exposed Thighs of Freedom involved. Y’all are lucky I’m still alive.


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