That’s really all there is to it.
Full disclosure: I won’t be in town this weekend. Not until Sunday night when I’ll be in the bleachers at Fenway trying to make Johnny Damon cry again. But I’ll be spending the rest of the weekend in, well, not enemy territory exactly because I don’t think frequenters of Shea Stadium are big on the Yankees either. But regardless, I’ll be in New York, enjoying a pennant race game at Shea, provided my eardrums can handle it.
This, of course means that I’ll also miss the Chargers/Pats hypefest on Sunday night as well unless the Sox front office sees fit to broadcast it on the big screen. But it really does feel like a pick your poison kind of situation. Especially after the week Pats fans have had. It’s either go to a Yankees/Sox game and spend the entire nine innings trying to control your homicidal urges or watch the Chargers/Pats and attempt to refrain from turning your living room furniture into kindling. As Greta said, “Would you like a swift kick to the right shin or the left?”
And yes, I realize complaining about such things sounds insane, but I am not well. You already knew that.
As for the Pats, I’d say they need to win, if, for no other reason, than to silence the idiots who are claiming that every win of the Belichick era is somehow tainted. Come on. Seriously? Seems every player the Pats have beat along the way has had their say, including Crying McWhinypants Hines Ward who is tragically STILL not over the fact that the Steelers were outplayed by a team they underestimated in the 2001 AFC Championship game. Really, Tear Ducts, time to let it go.
This has to stop. The Pats have been punished for their current rule-breaking and we need to leave it at that. You can’t retroactively punish someone for all that they’ve allegedly done wrong in the past just to prove a point. The end. Let’s move on. This means you too, LaDanian. Though for our sakes, I hope you’re moving on into a brick wall of Vrabel, Bruschi and Thomas. And also? Shut up.
One must also hope the Yankees are demoralized by their loss last night at the hands of Frank Thomas. Not that the Yankees get demoralized because they’re robots but still. I knew I still liked Frank Thomas for a reason. And while Sunday’s matchup of the Yankees/Red Sox Old Folks Home Representatives in Clemens and Schilling looks like it could be a matchup for the ages, I must remind everyone that this is not 1989. Or even 2001. Sure, it’s possible they could both go out there and pitch gems but I think it’s more likely that this will be a “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” situation with both old men raging against the dying of the light. And it probably won’t be pretty.
Yeah, I just referenced Dylan Thomas in a post about the Red Sox. This is what happens when a liberal arts degree gets the best of you.
For now, I’m off to Queens and Brooklyn, spreading good cheer and sunshine. And by that I mean, “kidnapping David Wright by means of tequila shots and misdirection.” Hold it down, will ya, kids?