Monthly Archives: April 2009

All streaks must end


(Photo from Yahoo! Sports)

I’m not sure what the question is, but I’m fairly certain that Brad Penny isn’t the answer. And then there’s Javier Lopez, evidently performing his best rendition of “Mother’s Day Massacre with Kevin Millar and Chris Ray in C Minor.” I mean one run is not the same as five, but the end result is familiar.

But we really can’t get too bent out of shape about this one. Seemingly making up for Monday night’s game which took all of twenty minutes, this one stretched on interminably until I called it a night, flipped off the television and figured there was every chance they’d still be playing when I woke up this morning. Last night’s game was one that I didn’t so much desperately want the Red Sox to win as I did for it to just be over. Maybe that makes me a bad fan. Maybe it just makes me tired. Maybe it just makes me used to the antics of a one Mr. Javier Lopez.

Not that errors can’t happen to anyone. They surely do. Our beloved Mike Lowell isn’t having himself the best season defensively at third but we forgive him because…he’s Mike Lowell. Perhaps in this young season, we’d do best to forgive Lopez as well.

Or…we can blame all of this on Julio Lugo. Seems reasonable, no?

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The power of positive…eating?

(Photo from Yahoo! Sports)

Quite unintentionally I made chicken parm for dinner last night, only to realize as I sat down to eat that Tim Wakefield was pitching and perhaps my dinner was an unconscious tribute to everyone’s favorite back-up catcher turned realtor, Doug Mirabelli. And maybe I was trying to channel some patented suave Douginess to get Wake through another stellar outing.

It wasn’t until the seventh inning when Wakefield and Cliff Lee were locked in a battle of “anything you can do, I can do better” that I considered it might be working.

You guys? I might not even know my own power.

Of course, everyone’s favorite Canadian had something to do with it as well. “You know,” Orsillo mused after watching Jason Bay quietly take his seat on the Sox bench following his 9th inning 3-run homer off Kerry Wood, “he just kind of quietly goes about his business doesn’t he?”

“He certainly does,” Remy agreed.

Because Jason Bay is many things but flashy is not one of them. One gets the impression that were he to make like Jacoby and start swiping bases with any regularity, he’d be made uncomfortable by all the attention. Which is not to say he doesn’t deserve it.

“Do you think Jason Bay should have a death metal version of ‘O’ Canada’ as his at-bat music?” I posed to Chrissy a week ago.

“YES” she replied. “What can I do to assist you?”

“We both work at colleges,” I told her, “surely some enterprising yound lads with a taste for PBR, some mad skillz on the guitar and the desire to make the world a better place can be convinced to help us.”

“What I like about you is how you see the big picture,” she replied.

I’ve no doubt Jason Bay would enjoy that, no? And after last night, he certainly deserves it.

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How Sweep It Is!

(Photo from Yahoo! Sports)

So that was a hell of a thing, no? I speak, of course, of the sweep of the Yankees at the hands of the Sox over the weekend series though really, there are any number of things I could be referring to. Expert pitching by the young’uns, not so expert pitching by the veterans, Mike Lowell/Jason Bay/Kevin Youkilis’ tattooing of the ball in dire situations or Jacoby Ellsbury’s balls of steel and feat of derring do with that theft of home last night. But really, the whole series was remarkable.

And each game, despite the fact that the first two seemed to morph into one game lasting many weeks, had it’s own distinct flavor. Friday night’s was the patented Sox walkoff. And because something is up with him this year and he’s yet to his his first home run of the season, David Ortiz kindly allowed Youkilis to take the reigns with the dramatic heroics. Of course, Youkilis doesn’t get the chance if Jason Bay doesn’t act in a way that I can only assume is contrary to his friendly, Canadian nature and welcome Mariano Rivera to the game quite rudely. Oh, Jason Bay, you never cease to delight me.

At one point during the tenth inning of that marathon contest, I turned to my boyfriend and said, “You realize we are going to die here watching this game. It will never end.” To which he replied, “Bears are going to eat us.” You see, he picked up the lingo quickly. Once the game headed into the 11th inning and each team seemed to be working on their fifteenth pitcher, I remarked, “I sure am glad this game is saving the series for the next two. Good thing we’re not blowing through our bullpen tonight.”

“At least,” he replied, “we know that tomorrow’s game is going to be high scoring.”

And how. That certainly proved prophetic, no? My father called shortly after the dust had cleared and the Sox had been declared the victors of Game 2 in a 16-11 bloodbath. “Just calling to see if there’s much discord around the homestead after that insanity,” he wanted to know.

“No,” I said, “things are fine here, and we are about the have a lovely dinner with friends. But I would probaby not want to be DeMaso Marte around these parts anytime soon.” Because, you see, my boyfriend, being a Yankees fan, has much the same reaction to DeMaso Marte that I used to have to Rudy Seanez. That being a blood-curdling, cover your face and hide the children scream. Warranted, it seems. So I can feel his pain. I’ve been there is what I’m saying. The flip side of which is, of course, that personally, I’m growing rather fond of Marte. Him and all his friends and their double-digit bullpen ERA. But I do not mind telling you that Jason Varitek’s grand slam? Surprised no one so much as yours truly and you all know I’ve long been a ‘Tek apologist. A thousand pardons, Captain, I should never have doubted you.

Then of course, there was yesterday. While Friday’s game was fraught with drama and tension and Saturday’s day-into-evening slugfest was about nothing so much as seeing how long these two teams could keep trading touchdowns, yesterday’s game meandered along with a 1-1 deadlock for five innings where nothing much happened and you’re left with the brain-cramping task of trying to make sense of whatever nonsense Joe Morgan is babbling. A fool’s errand, surely. So in response, I fell asleep. That is, until just before Ellsbury made like Jackie Robinson with the larceny. “I have never seen that,” I exclaimed as my phone blew up with text messages from all over the northeast. Somewhere, from the depths of the couch I heard, “Siiiiiiigh.” You see, it’s a give and take. However, I enjoyed nothing so much as Terry Francona’s reaction to Ellsbury upon returning to the dugout. Tito being so dad-like and all, he hugged Ellsbury who couldn’t stop smiling, and did that Italian grandfather, grab the other person’s face thing, and looked to say something to the effect of “That was great. Way to go, son. Don’t ever do it again.” No one seemed more surprised that Tito. With the possible exception of Andy Pettitte.

Steve Phillips, in a rare moment of lucidity and sense – though really anyone seems like a Rhodes Scholar when sharing the booth with Joe Morgan – described every Yankees/Red Sox series as a “war of attrition.” Usually one team wins when the other one runs out of arms. There was talk of how, in this young season, the Red Sox seem to have more answers than the Yankees but, you know, they’re the Yankees. You can’t count them out at any point. They can and will always acquire new players. Though, I did have to wonder out loud, at a team that added Burnett, Sabathia and Teixeira over the off season, “Who else is there?” Clearly, I’d forgotten about the Yankee-Robot Genetic Testing and Research Labs located under the concourse in the new stadium. It’s only a matter of time before the robot prototypes are ready. Until then, however, I’ll revel in the sweep. Won’t you join me?

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Rain, rain go away.

(Photo from msnbc.com)

New NESN post up in which yours truly gives some suggestions for the best way to kill a rain delay. It’s not all tarps and Slip ‘n Slides, my friends.

Enjoy!

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Mon Dieu!



(Photo from Yahoo! Sports)

Milan Lucic will thank you not to get fighty with him.

Bruins win, you guys. Four games to zero. While the series may have lacked suspense, it surely wasn’t wanting for satisfaction. Deeeeelightful!

How’s it go again? Oh, that’s right, “Bruins, the Bruins what?”

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A question for the ages

Chrissy asks, while watching today’s Orioles/Sox Patriots’ Day matinee:

“What is scarier? Mike Tyson or Dustin Pedroia after three Red Bulls and a bag of Sour Patch Kids?”

Thoughts?

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Three to get ready…

I use a picture of the fascinating Hideki Okajima because – and I’m not sure if you know this if you haven’t been to a game in which Okajima has pitched in the past few years – but the man has the most ridiculous entrance music in baseball and it’s been stuck in my head ever since I heard it Friday from the right field bleacher seats.

It’s infectious and hilarious and why it isn’t the sound of more Bay State ring tones is beyond me. Don’t believe me? Have a listen. (You will need headphones lest you scare coworkers).

Pretty amazing, right?

Anyway, Friday’s game – which did not begin all that well thanks to Derek Lowe Redux, er, Brad Penny, ended in splendid fashion with the Sox on top 10-8. (Less splendidly for Greta who, decked out in her Orioles gear finest was my seat companion thanks to some free tickets from Joey D. who is pretty much the greatest Yankees-turned-Red Sox fan I could ever hope to know).

Of course, the bleachers at Fenway are never complete without a beer shower which I received in the second inning while moving seats (Row 11, Row 12, they really should mark those things more clearly). The game was not entirely pleasing for either Greta or myself for the first few innings and surely not for both of us at the same time. I must remember to have another talk with Mr. Markakis about the rules set forth in re: his performance against the Red Sox. A grand slam most certainly does not qualify.

However, when Okajima came in in the eighth, Greta and I both dissolved into fits of giggles because how can you not when faced with that kind of aural Japanese insanity? Would you like to hear it again?

By all means.

You’re welcome.

The Sox also took care of business on Saturday and Sunday as they are wont to do it appears. You know what they say about water finding it’s own level and such. You’ll forgive me if I don’t have a terrible lot to add about the games as Saturday’s was pre-empted by the Bruins Game 2 (Bruins, the Bruins what?) and I spent much time yelling at the television and monitoring the level of my increasing crush on Milan Lucic. (Threat level: severe). I also woke up with a sizable bump on my head this morning the origins of which I am unclear. It’s possible I was head-banging in my sleep again but I suspect that perhaps Chrissy is right when she suggests that I might’ve been living a vicarious hockey game in my sleep and am suffering from post-concussion syndrome. Seems just as likely an explanation as anything else.

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