Monthly Archives: December 2009

New knight in town

(Photo by Kevork Djansezian/Getty Images North America)

Okay, okay, I’ll admit it. The best piece of news from the whole weekend in baseball shenanigans that just went down was the fact that the Yankees didn’t manage to snatch Roy Halladay. And I really hate being “that” fan who is less concerned with the maneuverings of her own team than she is with keeping people away from the Yankees but it’s gotten to a point where I’m starting to see the viewpoints of the rest of the baseball-loving country and I’m wondering if there should be some sort of embargo on big name free agents going to Boston OR New York. Because poor, little Kansas City is over there all “Um, guys? We have the Cy Young winner. So, you can, you know, come play here and…it will be fun? Also there’s barbecue.”

Plus, that would prevent any ramping up of the Red Sox/Yankees rivalry which, frankly, doesn’t really need any help. I went on a rather uncharitable rant in the car on the way to New York on Friday about how if I hear one more Yankee fan claim that the Yankees “need” Roy Halladay, I’m going to throw the mother of all temper tantrums and take my ball and go home. HJ very kindly did not throw me out of the moving vehicle.

But apparently, the point is moot since Philadelphia is turning itself into it’s own baseball powerhouse and we might have something else to worry about.

And then there’s John Lackey. Who is ours now. Which is good, in the sense that good pitchers are always good things to have. But I wonder if I have to backpedal now as I’ve certainly spent an inordinate amount of time making fun of John Lackey over the years. Then I remember that I still call Josh Beckett “Fathead” and so really, I don’t do backpedaling. Which is why I still claim that Lackey looks like one of the knights who say “Ni!” If he performs well, that’ll morph into something affectionate. If he doesn’t, well, I might start making jokes about flesh wounds. I’m just saying. Prepare thyself. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.


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Who are these guys?

(Photo from Yahoo! Sports)

No, seriously, who are these people wearing throwback uniforms and masquerading as my football team? Because I know they can’t be the same guys who smacked down Tennessee 59-0 earlier this season because THAT team does not let Miami win on a last-minute field goal after an end zone interception because THAT team is better than that. THAT team also plays defense. Something THIS team most certainly does not.

I realize we’re spoiled here in New England and we’ve become used to winning more often than not. But the thing is, I’m convinced the Patriots are a better football team than what they’re showing right now. Apparently even Rodney Harrison claimed that he didn’t recognize this team to which I have two things to say: 1) ME NEITHER WHO ARE THESE IMPOSTERS? And 2) want to come back, Rodney? We’ll take you back. Promise.

‘Cause look, no offense to Chad Henne or anything but there is only supposed to be one super good Michigan quarterback and his name rhymes with Bom Trady. And I don’t know if Belichick is either suffering from some PTSD Indianapolis game flashbacks or if he’s trying to prove his point with the constantly going for it on fourth down but I feel like the coaching has been really uneven this season and that is NEVER something I would have imagined myself saying ever about a Bill Belichick-coached Patriots team.

It’s more frustrating than not, I think because even if this team makes the playoffs, the team, as it’s playing now, certainly isn’t getting very far. I can’t see this current team making it past the first round. And that makes me sad because in New England, we are STILL gnashing our teeth over the Lost Super Bowl of Aught Seven and we are STILL waiting for vengeance. And every year we aren’t winning, is another year where that thorn in our side twists a little deeper. It feels like unfinished business is what and we’re practical people here in New England. We like to finish what we start.

What this all feels like to me is some sort of hellish waiting game. Like we’re just sitting around, feeling helpless about the prospects for the future with this football team, either in the here and now – like next week – or more long term. And there’s really nothing for us to do but eat chips and buffalo wings. It’s slightly better than waiting in line at the RMV. But only because of the buffalo wings.

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