Boston, You’re My Home

(Photo from Trip Advisor)

New NESN.com post up, kids, in which I romanticize about the…well, romance of Fenway Park. Enjoy!

Knockaround Guys

(Photo from Yahoo! Sports)

So…do you think George Kottaras knows where he is right now? Or did all the wild pitches/passed balls/getting knocked into next Tuesday render him incapable of rational thought? Like, if you asked him how many fingers you were holding up, would he say “yellow?”

Poor George. It’s happened to many before you, young man. True, it’s not the knuckleball you were forced to tangle with last night and, truth be told, you’ve done an admirable job of that so far this season. But perhaps no one told you about Matsuzaka’s penchant for wildness or his never-ending quest for equality as he doles out walks to the entire ballpark. You couldn’t have known.

And then, there was the collision at the plate with Carlos Gomez who, if a recent series between the Twins and Yankees is to be believed, has a bit of a fighty streak in him. You done well, sir, to not only hold onto the ball but to absorb the hit and make the out. We’re not certain, but we think we could feel Jason Varitek sitting in the dugout and cringing. He’s 37, you know. His veteran bones can’t quite take that kind of licking anymore.

That said, ‘Tek? Please come back to us. We’ll cushion the home plate area with bubble wrap if it’ll help. Only don’t go away again.

All in all, a frustrating game. Despite Papi’s better efforts, Denard Span felt like being a big mean jerk and catching all fly balls hit his way which, really, is just inconsiderate when a guy’s trying to get going. But I’m sure Papi wouldn’t want anything handed to him anyway. Though, do you suppose it’s okay if I give him a hug?

And Jason Bay hit a home run. As that is what Jason Bay does. Our pale little Canadian is steadfast, that’s for sure.

Day game today. Beckett goes at 1:10. Perhaps he will have had quite enough of this wild pitch business and will throw nothing but BBs all day. Here’s hoping. For us and for Jason Varitek’s knees.

Here is what we learned

(Photo from Bliss-Tree.com)

We learned that if we get home, take Benadryl and then drink half a Negra Modelo, we will pass out completely at 8:35pm, waking up only once when the boyfriend texts something about LeBron getting his shit together. We will then pass out again until roughly 7:10 this morning.

This will cause us to miss the Red Sox game entirely. Checking box scores this morning, we will realize that we didn’t miss much.

We will vow to do better.

We will also vow not to mix allergy medicine and alcohol again. You know, maybe.

Doing better and demanding more.

The new issue of InSite Magazine is out and I’ve got a new column. Somewhat uncharacteristically serious for me but I think that we often forget the impact and influence sports and athletes have on us as a culture. And the media (self included if we’re using the broadest possible definition of the term), have a responsibility to demand more.

Check it out.

Are you not entertained?

New post on NESN.com is up, kids. Wherein I discuss the favorite cinematic distractions of our favorite Red Sox players. Come on, you just know Pedroia is off somewhere pounding bloody slabs of beef a la Rocky. You didn’t need me to tell you.

As George Michael once famously, said, you gotta have faith.

(Photo from Boston.com)

See, Papi? We knew you could do it. Never doubted you for a second. Okay, perhaps that’s not 100% accurate but I’d state confidently that most of us knew you had that in you somewhere. But we were worried. And while a curtain call after the first home run of the season might seem excessive and a little, you know, much to some people, it was an acknowledgment that, “Wow, been a while, huh? Good to get that monkey off our backs.” Now let’s move on.

And perhaps I’m not quite as hardened and cynical as I thought as the Fenway crowd’s reaction to Ortiz’s blast last night had me all choked up. That’s what happens when a fan base truly loves a player. You want them to do well. You will for them to do well. And when they do, it’s excellent.

Also excellent was the home run derby the Red Sox decided to play last night against young Mr. Cecil. It wasn’t quite the same as the night a few years ago when the Sox went back-to-back-to-back-to-back off the Yankees Chase Wright and where, if you looked closely enough, you could actually pinpoint the moment his soul left his body, but it was similar in terms of the amount of mercy they showed. Read: none. And Captain ‘Tek with the hitting! 37-year-old can’t hit catcher my ass. That’ll show ’em.

So tonight, it’s Game Three against those worrisome Blue Jays from yonder North. I’m sure Kevin Millar has something delightful on tap for the finale, possibly involving some questionable tonsorial decisions or a barnyard animal or two. One never knows…

Lovefest for Wakefield

(Photo from Boston.com)

Awww, there’s a smile. Who’s our cream puff? We love ya, Timmy, you know we do. You do know that, right? Despite the whole “trading away of your personal catcher, no, wait, he’s back, actually we think we’ll just let him retire and become a realtor in Michigan” thing, right? Doesn’t mean we love you any less.

You’re Mr. Reliable. Mr. Steady-As-She-Goes. Mr. Dependable. You’re Tim Wakefield, practically a synonym for steadfast stoicism in this town. That young fellow George seems to be taking to you rather well too, I’d say. Not that there’s anyone around these parts who wouldn’t personally strap on the tools of ignorance to give it a go should you need a personal catcher in his stead. And this is even after witnessing what trying to harness the knuckleball can do to the likes of ‘Tek during 2004’s ALCS Game Five, colloquially known as the never ending passed ball-a-thon. But we love you, Wake, so for you, we’d happily chase errant knuckleballs all over the infield.

Why the lovefest, you may ask? Could be last night’s masterful eight innings against the division leading (?) Blue Jays. Save one Kevin Millar home run (and you can hardly fault the guy, he does know you well), it was a virtuoso performance. Could just be that it finally, finally, finally feels like springtime and I was able to watch the game with all the windows in my apartment wide open. Could be that with the Celtics and Bruins eliminated from contention, the Red Sox are back to being the only show in town and, same as it ever was, we’ve got Timmy Wake to count on. Whatever it is, consider this era of good feelings out in full force.

Bradley Wayne Penny? You are obliged to keep it going, sir.

Healthy Competition

New NESN.com post is up, kids, wherein I offer some suggestions for promotions our four respective professional sports teams can do to stake their claim on their portion of the fan base. A good problem to have, surely.

But then, who wouldn’t want to attend “Dennis Eckersley High Cheese Night?” No one I care to know, that’s for sure.

Off the Brink

(Photo from Boston.com)

And just like that, it’s all over. Thought they had this one too. I really did. I mean, what’s a hockey team doing in Carolina anyway? Especially one with a coach that looks much more like the lead singer of some emo band you’ve never heard of or perhaps The Proclaimers than the coach of a professional hockey franchise. I mean, honestly.

But pettiness aside, the Bruins have little to be ashamed of. They fought hard and they fought long and overtime in Game 7 is about as far as anyone can expect to be pushed. That said, I wanted to win that one. I really did.

I guess I’ll cheer for the Blackhawks now since I have a sense of loyalty to Original Six teams and Detroit won theirs last year. Plus I’ve always gotten the sense that I’d greatly enjoy Chicago. Guess this means that spring has officially begun here, kids. Winter in Beantown is over.

Good thing we have that baseball team to focus on. Now, what’s the matter with David Ortiz?

Get well soon, RemDawg

(Who else misses this? I know I do.)

I’m in New Orleans until Tuesday, kids. Keep a lid on things without me, okay? In the meantime, my new NESN.com piece is up wherein I detail all the options the Sox have for a temporary replacement for Sox broadcaster Jerry Remy while he continues his recovery from cancer surgery and subsequent pneumonia. Kevin Garnett and Bill Belichick in the booth, anyone?

Get well soon, RemDawg. We love Eck and all but you’re our man in the booth. We miss you.