Puppy. A “P” word we can tolerate.
Look at the puppy.
One more time.
Okay. Now that we’re all calm… all zen (FDA, you need to look at the puppy again. Ready? Okay. Keep reading.)… let’s talk about last night.
Let’s talk about it very calmly. Very rationally. We’re not here to cast blame (TERRY FRANCONA! JOSH BECKETT! TERRY FRANCONCA! GAHK. Sorry. I’m looking at the puppy. Looking. At. The. Puppy.)
We’re to analyze this. Breathe. And move forward.
So we lost to the sandwiches? Big fricking deal. So we’ve lost the bulk of our last bazillion. Whatever. So we lost to the Pirates. Big whoop.
So we lost to the … to the… to THE FRICKING PADRES?
ARE YOU FRICKING KIDDING ME?????? WHAT THE HELL, TERRY FRANCONA? WHAT THE FRICKING HELL ARE YOU DOING NOT UTILIZING THE FRICKING DH? FIND SOMETHING FOR HIM TO DO, DAMNIT. YOU ARE TITO. FIX THIS. I CAN’T FIX IT FOR YOU. What the frick, Tito? You’re doing that Timlin thing. And you have to stop. BECAUSE YOU ARE MESSING WITH MY ZEN.
AND YOU, BUD SELIG!!!!!! INTERLEAGUE PLAY WILL NOT WORK AS LONG AS THERE IS THIS FRICKING DH DIVIDE. You know what Bud Selig? Maybe we SHOULD reorganize. MAYBE WE SHOULD. Of course, you don’t like to ROCK THE BOAT, do you, Bud Selig????? DO YOU??? Ahem. Steroids. Ahem. Steroids. I WILL REORGANIZE YOUR FACE.
AND YOU, JOSH BECKETT!!!! IF THAT IS YOUR REAL NAME. Because after yesterday????? I don’t know. I DO. NOT. KNOW. I want you to find where you and Dice stashed that time machine and I want you to get the frick in it and find yourself when you KNEW HOW TO SHUT OUT GAMES. It does not take a ROCKET SCIENTIST (pun FRICKING intended) to know that you were OFF YOUR FRICKING GAME. That was not the stomach flu. And if it was, CLEARLY you are not better. CLEARLY you should have been a wee bit more honest in our pre-game chats and people are all… OH BECKETT… RUNNING WITH THE BAT… Poor AL pitcher baby. But you and I BOTH KNOW you can be a badass with the bat. We have BOTH seen it. Oh, you’re mad about the game? You’re going to stomp off with mad-face to anger-ville? GOOD. GET MAD. You better get good and fricking mad because the All Star Break is coming and LACKEY is still in the rotation and CLAY keeps getting fricking blisters and there is something wrong with Lester and the kid hasn’t been tested and JENKS IS BACK… so we’re going to be counting on YOU to NOT SUCK. Comprende? Get your wife to translate.
AND YOU, ACEVES. I WILL NEVER FORGET HOW WE LOST TO THE FRICKING PADRES. NEVER. This is your fault for being a demotivator. You’re an anti-cheerleader. Limp like the PASTA DISH IMPLIED BY YOUR NAME, ALFREDO. And don’t think I forgot about you, JOHN LACKEY. Oh no, you Dirk-armed sloth creature. But you know what, John Lackey? This isn’t your fault. NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT. I BLAME TITO. See, Terry Francona? He watches the games I watch. He can smell your failure from the dugout and he KEEPS PUTTING YOU ON THE FRICKING MOUND. What. The. Hell??????? There comes a time when you need to eat your losses. EAT THEM. Stuff your face with them. Write passive aggressively and tearfully in your journal, Tito, have a good cry and MOVE THE FRICK ON.
Okay. Looking at the puppy. Nice puppy. Looking at the puppy.
Let’s look at the puppy again together, shall we?
Letter “P”? That stands for PUPPY. Not Phillies. Or Pirates. Or… or… or… padres…Padres…
See this control, Josh Beckett?
Now that we’re all calm. Again. Let’s look at tonight’s game.
“We’ll come out tomorrow and try to play better tomorrow,” Pedroia said yesterday.
That’s the spirit. So. We have… John Lackey? Still? Are you fricking kidding me?????
Okay. Let’s take an… unbiased look. Highest ERA among pitchers with 50 innings… in ALL OF BASEBALL????
Okay. Looking at the puppy.
7.36. Okay. 7.36.
Oh my GOD, John Lackey! Your ERA is more expensive than my lunch. Oh God.
Puppy. Cute puppy.
I can’t do this. I have to work. I have to support myself so I can afford lunch at Lackey’s ERA.
Okay, baby. Clearly Tito is broken. Clearly it is up to us now. You and me. We can only count on each other, baby. But I’ve got to be honest with you, Youk. I’m starting to think you don’t read this. Do you have any idea how many people call my faith in you “blind”? Two. Two whole people.
See, I love you. You know I do. But I’m starting to think you don’t love me. Because if you did love me, Youkie. If you did, really and truly love me, you’d take on some sort of leadership. You’d fix this! Tek? He’s transitioning. Okay? He’s not there every game. But you! You wield that bat almost every time.
It’s up to us, Youk. You and me. But I can’t do it alone. Cheerleaders, you see, can do nothing unless the players take the initiative. With a questionable rotation and bullpen, the nation needs you to rally on offense. Get Skippy to help. Go. Go. I know you hate good byes. So I’ll leave you with a beach photo from Ocean Isle, NC, currently serving as my computer background.
All my love,