Pity the buck that crosses Josh Beckett’s path today.

(Photo from Herradura Ranch gallery)

Or feral pig. Or wild turkey. Or, you know, over-exuberant squirrel. I’m thinking Beckett might be a bit testy today, is the thing, having lost out on the AL Cy Young award to Cleveland’s C.C. Sabathia. I mean, he’ll probably claim that he doesn’t care and that he didn’t even know the vote was happening. “Oh, was that today?” he’ll say, feigning nonchalance and letting us know that he couldn’t possibly care less about some stupid little award. And then he’ll go out and shoot something. Possibly an unfortunate feral pig he’s named “Avulsion.”

For the sake of everyone involved, I just really hope Lester and Buchholz haven’t made their way south yet to begin Beckett Boot Camp. Otherwise, this is going to turn into Deliverance or “Lord of the Flies” or something and somehow Doug Mirabelli is gonna get involved (because he follows Wakefield everywhere, especially now), and then Schilling will turn up to try to broker the peace because, you may have heard, but he represents himself in negotiations and he’s sure he can work something out and if Beckett would let Dougie and the wee pitching pups go and come out from behind that camo blind where he’s holed up with fourteen cans of baked beans and backlogged videotapes of Leann Tweeden’s appearances on “The Best Damn Sports Show Ever” he’s pretty sure that things will work out for the best but Beckett will only talk to Tek and then only in code and he’s demanding to be allowed to drive past Sabathia’s house in his pickup and moon him out the window while trailing a World Series banner behind. And frankly, I just don’t want to have to fathom any situation that involves Doug Mirabelli, Curt Schilling as hostage negotiator, and firearms.

However, if Tek wants to take over in the Mike Lowell negotiations, I’m fine with that. We already know that he tried to lure him into staying by giving him candy. I like those incentives. I’m thinking he’s up to the task.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go barricade the doors in case Beckett decides to show up here. He might’ve heard that I called him “Fathead” that one time (or rather hundreds of times) and he probably thinks I’ve got something to answer for.

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