LIVE BLOG: I’m not just blogging for the Red Sox tonight. I’m blogging for America. So don your American flags and your apple pie (ala mode if it’s heated, now) and join me for tonight’s match up against the evil north.
That’s right- John Farrell’s bringing out the birds.
The blogging will start (and probably more than a few fricks) at 7ish. Expect cursing. Expect beer. And expect videos with carefully constructed sharpie marker illustrations. They are dazzling, I tell you. DAZZLING.
See you at SEVEN? YES???????
Put your game face on. I MEAN it. That does NOT look like your game face!!!!! Canada rolls its eyes at you.
Let’s hope Doubront… um… does something.
No. Not that. A GOOD something.
SEE YOU AT SEVEN.
6:38. An American meal. Of Apple PIE.
6:46. Nervous yet?
6:54. One irritating face has been absent for opening week… JOHNNY DAMON! In fun, pre-game giggle news, Johnny Damon STILL hasn’t signed onto a team- a reality that has Scott Boras baffled. There’s Cleveland talk and the likely possibility that he’ll be teamed by May…
But hilariously out of touch people… you know, the ones who didn’t hear him cry last year at Turf-gate, or whimper at the scary mean Boston fans (lower lip trembling, poor ‘ittle guy), are calling this a MYSTERY. Nick Cafardo just can’t figure out why no one will sign him.
Allow me to Nancy Drew it for you.
1. He is old. 2. He is annoying. 3. His ego won’t fit in your ball park. 4. He is old. 5. the ‘tude. And 6. He is old.
Feel free to sleuth it out in the comments.
6:58. Wish the game would starttttttttttttttttt. I am ready to winnnnnnnnn.
7:01. The intro music, though for Toronto, is eerily appropriate… “..forgiven my mistakes…”
Hope so, kiddies. Hope so.
There is a lot of music in Canada. This intro is quite dramatic.
“He is THE MOST FEARED HITTER IN BASEBALL.”
Really? Jose Bautista? Really?
I mean. Um.
Oh. Now he’s getting his silver slugger award.
Were his ears always that big?
Oh no. They’re passing out those annoying towels. I hate those things.
This game is going to annoy me.
7:05. Remembering athletes who died. This is depressing. Oh no. The family is crying. Oh no. Why are you doing this to me, baseball? Don’t you know apple pie ALREADY makes me emotional? And the Blue Jays are making a $10k donation in the vics’ names. Wow. That’s nice. I’m sorry in advance for the pain our victory will cause you, Canada. You seemed like a really nice country just now.
Now they are defining the word anticipation. A little unnecessary for those of us who have dictionaries. Don’t you think? And there’s this weird intro where they are stitching a blue jay onto a hat. Weeeeeiiirrrdddddd.
I’m just ready to watch some baseball. Can we, um, do that now, please? Thanks. Now we are watching baseball players run? Or are they dancing? It’s hard to tell, actually. Santos just used the word “swagger.” Josh Morrow says he wants the whole country to watch him. Um. Okay. Seriously, kids. I am going to go get food. And maybe play three games of monopoly on my iPhone. I bet I have time. LONGEST INTRO EVER. “We can do all the talking we want but…” Apparently.
7:10. They booed us. I think they think they’re going to hurt our feelings. They REALLY booed Jacoby. Clearly, they haven’t been watching. Hi, Pedroia. A-Gonz slow jogs to the lineup. Yep. Is it just me, or was there more clapping at Youk’s name? Oh. That WAS me. Hi, Papi. Hi, Cody Ross. Hi, new boyfriend Ryan Sweeney. Hello, Jarrod Saltalamacchia. And. Um. Mike Aviles… And Felix Doubront. They didn’t even boo you, Felix Doubront. Poor Felix. Not even netting a boo.
While the Blue Jays are stepping out Kennel Club Dog Show style, I really am going to grab food.
7:15. They’re still at it. Hi, John Farrell! I miss you!
Do you think he misses us? I bet he does. Who wouldn’t? Haha. There is like one, lone guy booing the crap out of Bautista.
7:20. Some of the Jays were cutting up during the National Anthem. Kudos to camera man for THAT closeup.
Hi, Michael!!!! It’s going to be okay. Because they are going to win tonight.
Is it just me, or did Dr. Ron Taylor REALLY not care about that first pitch. He just sort of tossed it. I don’t think his expression changed. Um. At all. Remember last year when Pedro threw out that pitch? Sniff. I’m okay.
Maybe the game will start soon!
This intro is longer than the Titanic.
7:30. Maybe there is no game. Maybe this is just an excuse to arm Canadians with hand towels.
Oh! Oh! Oh! There are people on the field! And Jacoby’s icon just went up! That’s something! Does it… Can it… FIRST PITCH! It’s a miracle. Oh. It’s a warm up. But it involves a baseball.
The announcers are on mute or something. By this point, I fully expect MLB.tv screwups. I’m just glad it’s not checkerboarding this year. I do like the Toronto ballpark…
And I do like you, Jacoby. Hi.
I didn’t like that. Grounds out at first. Blatantly. And the fans whip out those towels…
Pedroia is at bat. He’s three and thirteen, as the announcer kindly tells us.
In case you’re keeping count at home, Toronto announcers have mentioned that the sox are now 0 and 3. THREE times.
Alvarez just tried to kill Pedroia, but missed. I heard Alvarez is like seven years old or something. Remember when we put out our seven year old, aka: Kyle Weilland?
“Pedroia never gets cheated. He swings hard. Might be one of the best high ball hitters in baseball.” ~Announcer says. Right before he grounds OUT to first. Two outs.
We’re having difficulty pronouncing Adrian Gonzalez in the announcer booth. Gonzalez struck out twice, apparently, at his last Alvarez encounter… good. To. Know. I like it when the announcers are helpful. Gonz slugged 815 against the Jays last year, including 8 homeruns. THANK YOU. I like these announcers. I do. Full Count… It’s okay, though, because Kevin Youkilis is on deck. Not that it matters, because Gonz has struck out. Damn, those towels are annoying.
Hi, FDA. I am glad you are back. I KNOW you are annoyed by those towels. I find them more annoying than our scoreless first, actually. John Farrell knows that, I bet. Because he knows me. I bet he KNEW that the way to incur my wrath was to pass out those towels.
7:40. Bob McClure, our new pitching coach, is, apparently, impressed by Felix Doubront. Okay, then. Let’s see. You are not the only one being judged, Doubront. So is your puppet master. First pitch looked good to me. He has a strange clean cut bubble gum chew thing going on. The announcers cut out again. Fix that, MLB. I am determined to be optimistic about you, Doubront.
Ohno. Now they’re talking about Tek. It’s okay. I won’t cry. Now they’re talking about how Tek taught Salty how to catch. Nice breaking ball. Very dramatic. As long as it’s a strike, Doubront. Doubront reminds me of someone and I can’t place it. He has that jackassy indifference thing that is great when he’s striking them out but will be annoying when he makes horrible mistakes. Full count. This at-bat is taking a long time. Do you think Felix shaves his face like that, or is that just how the hair grows? Ellsbury makes a nice catch to save you from my wrath, Felix. One out.
7:45. I think towels are for swimmers, but that’s just me. Bautista is on deck. I don’t think the guy batting is important. he keeps kicking his knee up like a “fierce” chick on America’s Next Top Model. Doubront definitely LOOKS like he’s keeping his cool. I miss Pedro. Okay, Doubront. These balls are getting irritating. I mean, 15 pitches for two batters?
OKAY, Felix. A walk? A WALK?
Not cool, Felix. Not cool. Oh good. Jose Bautista is batting. Not exactly the time you want to have a guy at first. On the ground…. And double play. Okay. Very cool. I get it. That was totttttally on purpose to move the game along, right? You almost had me going there, Felix. Into inning 2!
Silly FDA. You know I never move on (PEDRO!).
7:50. Kevin Youkilis grounds out but it shouldn’t count because the announcers weren’t paying attention…
David Ortiz will fix this. Alvarez looks a little shaky. I would too. I don’t care who you are, Papi is fricking scary. Unless you are a kid wanting an autograph. Then he’s a big teddy bear. Oh! Oh! Oh! The Papi clap!
A single! A single! David Ortiz, ladies and gents. I love him so.
Hi, Cody Ross. I want to like you. You’re just so happy. Um. That is NOT your happy face. Um… Wow. What a grimace. Cody… is that really you? Yikes. That’s the foulest face I’ve seen on a sox since Padilla…
Um. Double play. Um.
So. Um. Felix Doubront?
7:55 Hi, Paul!
I think we should have a contest to see who can do the Cody Ross grimace the best.
I don’t know where Jeb is. Probably pillaging.
We have now mentioned the 0 and 3 record in the announcer booth FIVE times.
Come on, Doubront! I believe in you. So does Paul. And FDA. WE believe in you. And that’s all you need, really. Someone to believe in you. Ask Tinkerbell. The cartoon version. Not the lame Julia Roberts version. You don’t have to ask lame Julia Roberts ANYTHING. You could move this game along, though.
NICE catch by my new boyfriend, Ryan Sweeney, for the out.
8 p.m. This is a very long game. Hi, Adam Lind. HURRY BACK, FDA. Tea is much less important than sweet, sweet victory.
TWO OUTS. Brett Lawrie is at bat. I secretly like him a little. Like, not enough to cheer for him. But enough to smile at his pretty face. Okay. That’s over. DESTROY, DOUBRONT. DESTROY.
Well, damn. Single. You were captivated by your crush too, weren’t you, Doubront? It’s not your fault, really. You are forgiven this once. But just this once. Steeeeeerike. Hi, Rajai Davis. You look very young. In the face. Hi, Brett Lawrie. With your juxtaposed clean cut-ness and your nifty tattoos. Stay on first, please.
Focus, Doubront. We have much to do, you and I. We can not be distracted by idle things. If you want to be my favorite pitcher (and this year you have a shot), you better stay FOCUSED and stop hitting on Brett Lawrie. Seriously. You and Brett can get a room after the game if you want. Do you think Brett Lawrie will read this blog? Salty and Gonz try to catch a foul ball. This is neat, see, because Gonz actually RAN. Total miss. But Gonz actually HUSTLED. No one in the dugout helped. And the announcer commented on that. Ellsbury catches for the third out.
It is never cold in Raleigh, FDA. It’s probably like 111 degrees or something great like that. I love not living on a mountain…
8:08. Top of the third. My new boyfriend is batting. I hope you heard that, Kevin Youkilis. You are still my husband (I can’t quit you), but your recent tryst with a Ms. Brady, coupled by your lack of hitting, has you on thin ice with me, sir. That’s where Ryan Sweeney comes in. Oh. A ground out at first. It’s okay, Ryan Sweeney. You at least look sorry. Apologizing gets you mad points. Hi, Brett Lawrie. Was he looking at me just then?
Hi, Jarrod Saltalamacchia and your switch hitting. The announcer just called you “intriguing.” Yuck. Caught. It’s okay, Salty. Rasmus is such a weird kid. That was a neat catch. I guess.
Mike Aviles. Um. Okay. Maybe he’ll do something really great. Maybe Aviles will be like… a diamond in the rough. Like Aladdin. It could happen. Um. Okay. Clean slate, Aviles. I will seriously forget our history and praise you anew if you can just get on a flipping base. Oh. Swing and a miss. Oh. That was a painful strike too. Oh.
So. Um. Bottom of the third…
8:19. Well. That sucked. A triple. Um. Doubront? You in there?
Crap. Do you think Beckett chickened him? One out. Guy at third. Bah. Bobby V close up. He’s doing this sway thing. He knows. He knows this sucks. And he knows it’s his fault. Bah. Oh no. He’s smiling. Bobby V? Smiling? Really? “Directing the traffic on the infield?” Is it too late for Tito to come back? Do you think he likes his new gig? And John Farrell is watching. This is embarrassing.
And a WALK. Good. So. Um. Two on base now. One out. Good.
Oh. Good. With a dramatic slide, Rasmus scores. Oh.
Doubront has, at least, dropped the jackassy statue stare.
Bobby V has now decided to step outside of the dugout. I think I am just now grasping how irritating Bobby V is to watch.
Tito used to acknowledge suckiness. Remember? But Tito is gone. So really, really this is Larry Lucchino’s fault…
8:25. You’re right, Ellie. We shouldn’t dwell on whose fault it is. My dog is so smart. We should dwell on how we can FIX this problem. Edwin Encarnacion is at bat. Two outs. Can he be the third out? Thanks. It is 1-0. Still. One score is not the end of the world. Please do not be psyched out, Doubront. It’s really not a——
REALLY???? 2-0. This game is crap.
WHO PUT YOU IN THE STARTING LINEUP AGAIN? Oh. That’s right. Bobby V.
No. It’s April. It’s APRIL.
We’re okay. It’s just one inning. Just two runs.
“John Farrell has already shown us he is thinking about matchups, thinking about…”
Bah. Pay attention to what the announcer is saying, Bobby V. We can ALL learn from our mistakes. Does it count as a mistake when you just don’t do anything? Because that’s what is taxing about you, Bobby V. You just don’t do anything.
I know, I know, but Lauren! You don’t manage a team!
I do manage, actually. I manage TETRIS. And, when I’m playing TETRIS, and my L-shaped piece comes out upside down, I adjust.
Well, Bobby V, Doubront is UPSIDE DOWN. Hit the fricking space bar, already!!!!!!
Three outs. Fah-fricking-finally.
That’s dangerous, Paul. I mean, it IS only two runs. You don’t want to KNOW how Kyle would fudge that up…
8:32. I texted Jeb and said “FDA is asking about you.” I just got a response. “My girlfriend?”
Oh. It’s Friday, isn’t it? Yikes. I think the boy will be here Friday. Um. I don’t know if we’re at the “he-can-see-my-sox-side-stage” yet…
Two outs that are eye-roll worthy. Gonz is at the bat. He is more fun to watch now that there is a possibility of him actually running.
Dramatic pronouncements? Me? NEVER.
“Off to a rough start so far this year.”
SHUT UP, announcers. I never liked you.
Hi, Kevin Youkilis. Love. Light. Seriously. FDA, does he look skinnier? Look at his face. His jowls, as it were. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan… but I’d sacrifice hitting power over aesthetics ANY day. Seriously. He’s so pretty today. WHY CAN’T HE HIT????
I do appreciate that the announcer just called Kevin one of the best in baseball. Okay, announcers. I guess we are okay. Oh. A look at Josh Beckett in the dugout. I am sure he is LOVING this game. I am so mad at you, Josh. So mad.
But this is not the time for anger. This is the time for Youkilis. Who I will love. No matter what. She said…
Jeb and FDA, your love story is going to be so epic that it will become an internet meme and make me famous. I will be invited on the Ellen show and we will dance.
Can you name your first kid Kevin?
FDA! Kevin is my HUSBAND. Get it right.
Hi, Brett Lawrie. Keep your cool, Felix. I know it’s hard staring in the face of Lawrie. He is quite attractive. But if you could just hold on, all the rest of the Blue Jay players are ugly…
One out! Good job. It’s okay, Brett Lawrie. A trip to Raleigh would be worth the hassle…
That was the lamest not-bunt I have ever seen, Davis.
Oh good. Another Beckett closeup. By the way, we have talked about the 0 and 3 record 11 times now.
They just said Beckett got “torched.” Yep. But that was days ago. Literally days.
Doubront knocks another one out.
See? He’s not so bad. I mean… two runs? Wouldn’t be so horrid if… you know… we could hit something…
I am okay with you, Doubront. Right now. At this moment.
Arencibia is at bat and I think I ate too much pie.
Andy Pettitte is pitching in Florida tonight. Has anyone seen how that’s been going? I kind of hope it goes well so we can destroy him later this season.
Dice-K is throwing in Florida too!
And… of course. As always happens, when I praise a pitcher, he WALKS someone.
Really, Felix??? REALLY? Oh. And it’s Rasmus. He looks like he lives under a bridge. A bridge near a river. With frogs or something.
And not a nice bridge. Or a nice river. Like, a crappy bridge. And a crappy river.
He is NOT Uselesssss. I will not have you talk that way, FDA. I will not. I would NEVER talk smack about Derek Lowe.
Rasmus… He looks confused. He didn’t earlier when he got that fricking triple, so don’t fall for it, Doubront. I think he just naturally looks stupefied.
Yeah. I guess it would be silly if we gave our kids the same name, FDA.
Oh no. They just asked Ortiz about chickengate. Because we haven’t heard that enough.
“Yeah, there were some guys having it (chicken) during the game yes but those guys, they wasn’t even in the game. I’m not saying that what they were doing was the right thing to do, but what I am saying is it wasn’t affecting us on the field.”
He says he doesn’t eat fried chicken re cholesterol- and has lost 20 lbs… Oh. And he’s out. I think the announcers are in love with papi. They keep talking about how good he looks. It’s weird.
Cody Ross, scowling away again.
Base hit down the middle! Now maybe he has something to smile about. Cody, you have such a nice smile. USE IT.
Ryan Sweeney. Hello, boyfriend.
Hi, Steven. You should NEVER go to class when there’s a sox game.
A double! Back to back hits. Love this.
See what happens when you start watching, Steven? Never leave us for class again.
Two outs. Okay. It is fine. Okay.
I still love you, Salty.
Crap. I take back my love for all of you except Ross, Sweeney and Ortiz.
Bostonians also make good creme pie.
FDA, Kevin Youkilis is perfect too. Clearly there is an epic wind in Toronto.
Steven, I have thought about this (For like ten minutes) and I think Aviles is a double agent.
Escoblablah is batting. Doubront is going to take him out. Doubront will take them ALL out. You’ll see. It’s the top of the fifth and I STILL have faith in you, Felix. So does FDA. And Jeb. And Steven. And Paul. And the bazillion trollers my stats indicate I have. We ALL have faith in you. Quick! Somebody flap their arms like that Gordon Levitt kid in Angels in the outfield!
Christopher Lloyd IS watching you. Christopher Lloyd is watching us all.
OUT. See? I told you it would work. I am often right.
It’s okay. It’s just a single. It’s okay. I mean, it kind of looks like we could have nabbed that. Oh, Doubront just swiped the dirt in dismay. See, I like that. That’s acknowledgment. Pay attention, Beckett. It would make me glare at you less. Oh, Bautista. I can tell, because the annoying towels are back. A rip strike. It looks painful. Maybe he will be in pain. I didn’t mean that…
One out, fifth inning. It is 9:09. I want a salad. I have nothing in my fridge but an empty pie tin.
You know, the blue jay with the maple leaf? It kind of looks like a horrible wound on the bird’s head. Look at that.
Jose is not nearly as much fun to watch as Brett Lawrie.
That looked like a strike to me. Marlon Hudson is making some fudgy calls, if you ask me.
Youkilis catches and kills Bautista. Yay.
I love, by the way, how Salty talked Doubront off the metaphorical ledge just then. That was very Tekky. Sigh. I miss Tek. I’m okay.
I’m expecting my “never forget” bracelet any day now.
Focus, Doubront. It would be nice if you would just retire this guy so we won’t have to look at the blue jays for awhile.
FOCUS. Yes. That is called Focus. Encarnacionicusocus just had a killer strike. Ew. He is a spitter. Ew.
Don’t you know you are on television, Encarnaciocockus? Your mother is watching and she does not want to see you spit. STRIKE THREE. Out. And the inning is ova….
9:16. Those braves are so sweet, thinking of us like that, FDA. We should play hopscotch with them or braid their hair or something.
I miss Jason Bay. His alien face always made me smile.
I like Felix too. I just wish I could like our hitters…
All we have to do is hit THREE TIMES.
That’s it, really. No pressure, JACOBY, but you have done nothing for me. And Alvarez catches your bounce. And you sit down.
Seriously, kids, let’s analyze this Jacoby situation. Did we drain him last year when he was the only one playing? Is that what is going to happen to Papi now that HE is the only one playing?
Pedroia is at bat and the announcers clearly have a crush on him too. If Dustin and Papi stood next to eachother, I think these announcers would pass out.
Seriously. This is weird. They didn’t even talk up Bautista this much.
And THAT is why the world loves you. And these announcers, apparently. Wow, announcers. Really?
I mean… I love him too… but… aren’t you supposed to root for Canada? Pedroia, I am promoting you to PRESIDENT of the those-who-give-a-frick club. PRESIDENT. I wish you were here so I could hug you. Even though, Ellie’s about your size…
DAMNIT, Gonz. The slow jog is back.
You are OUT of the club.
Hi, Youkie. Maybe you SHOULD eat chicken. Maybe that 20lbs you lost is the reason you just popped out…
2-1. I mean, Dustin, you could have done that when people were on the bases. But thank you. Thank you for not making us look ridiculous in Canada. America thanks you. And the announcers want… well… you.
IT IS NOT KEVIN YOUKILIS’ FAULT! IT IS THE WIND!
We are in the 6th and Bobby V has put Atchison in. I am actually really excited about this. Not you, Scott, stop smiling inside. I am just excited that, FOR ONCE, you broke your pattern of leaving pitchers in forever until they break and melt into a pile of strikeless goo. Thanks.
Come on, Atchison. Prove that you are not a failure. And by you, I mean the ENTIRE BULLPEN.
Honestly, Doubront was KIND of okay. I mean, you did leave in Beckett FOREVER the other day. Your brain is interesting, Bobby V.
Two balls, two strikes. Oh. Three balls. Two strikes. Oh.
Martin Short is here! Martin Short is here!!!! Who cares about those other two “celebrities?” MARTIN SHORT!
Can he hit?
Okay. Um. We are interviewing people from “Canada’s Got Talent” and not watching the game… um. And not talking to Martin Short. Seriously. If you are going to ignore the game, ignore it for MARTIN SHORT. Not hair chick.
Oh. Martin Short is talking about “Canada’s Got Talent” too. Okay. You can stop talking now.
I don’t even watch “America’s Got Talent.”
Now they are talking about belching instead of watching baseball.
There was a third out. A THIRD OUT? I missed like, ALL of those outs because of a cheap interview promoting “Canada’s Got Talent” where Martin Short wasn’t asked to do ANY impressions or anything. I feel cheated.
Papelpoo is dead to me. DEAD TO ME.
Sigh. I miss the Papeljig.
No I don’t. Yes I do. No I don’t.
We should teach Ryan Sweeney to jig…
Do you think we could buy Brett Lawrie? Just wondering. No reason. No reason at all…
Darren Oliver could be your dad, Alvarez.
Ortiz is 3 for 13 against this guy. Come on, Papi. We need you to get on base. Or better, really. Because the A-Gonz’ slow jog is back. And because Kevin Youkilis is broken. And because we need justice and harmony in this world.
Cody Ross. Apparently, his single did NOT make him happy. I am concerned. I do NOT remember Cody being this stodgy. Do you guys? He was … fun. Would this happen to Brett Lawrie? Would we break him? Because I don’t want that to happen to you, Brett. Stay free… free like that lion on “Born Free.”
What WAS that strike, Cody? Was that an IMPRESSION of a baseball player? Because you certainly weren’t even close. It’s like you were playing charades and the answer is “Julio Lugo.”
Hi, Ryan Sweeney. One on base. So if you could just hit a home run (no pressure), we would be winning. Because it is 2-1. There is one out. So. Um. No pressure…
Seriously? REALLY? David Ortiz????? You don’t steal!!!!!!
THAT is why! You lost twenty pounds. You didn’t gain wheels!
So. Ortiz got caught stealing.
So much for my “all it takes is one hit” strategy, Ryan.
Papi, you need to sit down and THINK about what you just did.
9:40 p.m. Damn it. really? We can’t hit DARREN OLIVER?
I think Dustin is a good leadoff candidate. Because Jacoby is BROKEN.
It’s okay. It’s OKAY. We need TWO fricking runs. TWO fricking runs. We will find them. SOMEWHERE.
And the first batter is out. That was actually kind of nice. Thanks to PEDROIA. Guys, pay attention. There’s no reason you can’t ALL be Pedroias. We could have a giant team of Pedroia’s. Well, it wouldn’t be giant…
Ellsbury makes an easy catch for out number two.
Atchison is kind of looking like a badass. Thanks for refraining from the chicken.
Oh! They just said 0 and 3 again! That’s 17 times, I think. Oh! 18. 19. Oh! And again! 20.
Last year it was 0 and 6. They’ve said that at least seven times…
That’s for reminding us, announcers. Soooo helpful. I guess it’s either make fun of us or make out with Dustin Pedroia.
Escobaby gets a single. Youkie, that was NOT your fault. Gonz, see how Escoblob actually RUNS? If that had been you, it would have been out number three. You know it. I know it.
Yes. This game SCREAMS Taylor Swift song, FDA. Let me know your selection, and I will put up the video so we can all listen and bemoan our fates together.
Oh! An out!
I think we’re going to be okay, actually. I feel good. I feel good about this game. We just need TWO fricking runs, after all…
Maybe we don’t need Taylor. Yet.
Paul- Atchison for PRESIDENT! I think he can last longer than a closer. Let’s make him bullpen president.
Salty. Hi. It is 9:50. Could you get a home run, please? I am very sleepy.
Hahahaha. Oh, Lawrie. You are even sexy when you super-fail at catching. He really smacked into that camera. I hope it got a good shot of his bicep.
ACK! They just tried to assassinate Saltalamacchia! ACK!
That was so on purpose. I officially hate this guy.
It’s okay, Salty. THAT strike out was not your fault. It’s because he tried to KILL you.
Let’s kill him with our glares, shall we?
I am glad you are still alive, Salty.
Mike Aviles. Out at first. Yep.
I like this inning. I do. TWO outs. Eighth inning. Okay. All we need is ONE run in the 9th to keep this going. Just ONE. And we’ll be safe… and sound… like… oh, I don’t know…
10 p.m. Okay. All eyes on the screen. NOW. This is serious. It is even MORE serious than Taylor Swift.
DUSTIN PEDROIA IS SERIOUS>
SEE?! See? Dare we dream? Dare we hope?
It hurts so much more when we get like this… hoping…
DUSTIN PEDROIA I HAVE NO WORDS SO I SHALL USE CAPITAL LETTERS AND-
Oh no. Adrian Gonzalez.
Okay, A-Gonz. You need to run. No. Look at me. LOOK AT ME. RUN. Run like Bobby Valentine is chasing you. Run like I AM CHASING YOU. In a go cart or something so that my speed is more intimidating. You have to do this. You HAVE to do this. For freedom. And mankind. And AMERICA. AND MY SELF ESTEEM.
Oh! Oh! Oh! Pedroia steals third. Oh! Oh! Oh!
I just fell off my bed.
Oh. Okay. Come on, Gonzalez. R-U-N.
But, you know, hit first.
And that foul fricking me the fudge out. Frick.
Look what you did. You scared my puppy! She just left the room.
Another foul. And a commercial? A COMMERCIAL?
Yeah, that’s right. Bring it back. Ohholyfrickmotheroffrick…
Bobby V gives him an ass smack and says, “do it pedey!”
Suddenly, Bobby V doesn’t look so bad and I-
Holy frick-We are. We are going to win. We’re going to win.
It is tied. We have one out. And Kevin Youkilis is batting.
Youkilis strikes out.
Um… It is 10:09 and I can’t sit still.
David Ortiz at the bat.
This is how it should be, really.
Bobby V, could you please leave in Atchison? Thanks.
It’s okay, FDA. I handled it. Just now.
Um… Aceves… um…
Ortiz is my baby’s daddy. True story. Just ask Elliot-May-Precious Ortiz.
Of course, his baby is hiding from me because I keep throwing socks.
Walk. He is ON BASE.
Oh. Oh. Oh.
Let’s just all walk. I’d be okay with that. Let’s ALLLL walk.
We’re going to give Youk a cat scan. And then, if there’s nothing wrong, we’re going to feed him cans of Ensure until he gets his ass kicking weight back on, that’s what we’re going to do, Paul.
Cody Ross, stop frowning and play BASEBALL.
It’s this GAME that you get paid to play.
If I got paid to play a game, I would turn MY frown upside down, best believe.
10:13, And my last fingernail is gone.
We have two people on base. Two. And McDonald is going to run for Ortiz. So that’s goooood.
Hi, Ryan Sweeney. Ryan Sweeney will save us.
He kind of reminds me of Jason Bay. Anyone else see it?
MCDONALD Slides in… SLIDES in… drama… awesomeness. We will win. WE WILL WIN. And that ball hopped and we scored and there was no tag and…
Remember to breathe, Lauren…
And … and…
It’s beautiful. And Santos cursed. And it was beautiful too.
Isn’t it nice to see another bullpen implode?
It is 3-2. 3-2, BOSTON.
Did you see that, John Farrell? Were you watching? Because we can replay it. We can replay it.
And the ball runs away and Ross comes in!!! And it is 4-2!
And I LOVE baseball.
And I love YOU, Santos. I can’t believe that mean John Farrell is bringing you in…
Hear those boos?
Hahahahahahaha. I wish I had a towel too be obnoxious with. Who am I kidding? I am at my house. I have LOTS of towels.
10:22. Actually, Salty’s not so bad. I really think this is going to be his year, Paul. You’ll see. Mark my words…
10:25. BOTTOM of the 9th. OHMYGOD MY COMPUTER FRICKING FROZE.
Okay. Whew. It’s better. Hi, Alfredo. If you screw it up, I fear for your life.
One out. This is STRESSFUL. You know. Unless you’re my dog.
Aceves, I have ALWAYS loved you. I don’t think ANY of this is your fault. I blame Bobby V for putting you in this situation.
That disclaimer aside, I’m going to need another out in order to justify your existance on this earth, okay?
Did we… um… We… won. We WON. WE won.
Was it just me… or was that anticlimactic?
I mean, with the previous pedey lovefest, I was expecting like… confetti?
I think confetti would have been fair… um…
SCREW IT! We WONNNNNNNNN.
You’re welcome, Red Sox. On behalf of myself and all my commenters, who, undoubtedly, pushed you to victory, you are welcome.
I am …
SERIOUSLY, Kyle Weilland? SERIOUSLY?
In the Astros’ 4-3 win over the Yankees, Weiland threw four no-hit innings, using his sinker to get early swings and needing just 49 pitches to get through them.
Well that’s just FRICKtastic. Let’s sound the 76 FRICKING trombones in Houston.
Never mind that it’s a SPRING TRAINING game.
You know. AND NOT THE MOST IMPORTANT FRICKING GAME OF THE WHOLE FRICKING YEAR.
Oh, yes. Let’s take THIS opportunity to not melt into a blubbery mess on the pitching mound. Are you doing this on PURPOSE? Are you a double agent, Kyle? Because that’s such a cliche. You were working for Houston ALLLLLLLLLL along. Weren’t you? WEREN’T YOU? Where the FRICK was this miracle in September?
September was like “Misery.” The movie version. With Kathy Bates. You’re Kathy Bates, Kyle.
(And not the book version. With imaginary Hattie McDaniel. Hattie sure is scary in my imagination. But I think the Kathy Bates reference is more visual. Don’t you?)
We’re just lying there. Trying to collect enough painkillers in our teeth to put the fricking season to sleep, see. It’s not like we can go anywhere. Our fricking car hit a fricking tree, Kyle. And you’re Kathy Fricking Bates with a hammer making right angles out of our ankles.
AFTER WHAT MY ANKLES HAVE BEEN THROUGH, YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED.
And now. ALLLLLL of a sudden. YOU GIVE US “GREEN effing TOMATOES?”
WHY THE FRICK DOES HOUSTON GET TO BE MARY LOUISE PARKER?????
I can’t even look at you, Kyle Weiland. You disgust me.
I miss Whitney.
I blame you for that, TOO, Kyle.
What are your thoughts? Choose an option below in the comments:
1. Kyle Weiland was body snatched.
2. Kyle Weiland is a jerk.
3. Kyle Weiland is a double agent assassin like that hot Russian guy in “From Russia With Love” who can’t open the briefcase on the train.
4. Baseball is a lie. There is no Kyle Weiland.
What a ridiculous news day.
In a move that has this song in my head all day-
-Ben Cherington adopted a child for us. His name is Daniel McGrath and he’s 17. And now the Red Sox are his daddy.
Daniel McGrath. Hmmm. It’s the 5th highest $$$ signing out of the 435 Aussies signed to play. Don’t worry. He’ll “complete year 12″ before Soxing it to spring training next year. And, hey, maybe the beer store will start carding. So, there’s that.
Maybe that’s Benny’s plan. Import people who CAN’T buy beer for the clubhouse.
It doesn’t say how he got his super powers… but I think we all know where that 150 km/hr fastball pitch REALLY came from.
Do you think he’ll introduce us to Gary Busey?
In other news, Trot Nixon is heading this Hall of Fame class… but the REAL news is that he went to New Hanover High School in Wilmington. Did YOU know that? I’ve been there like, a bazillion times. It’s the high school that every movie/tv show uses when they film in North Carolina- a high school I became acquainted with during my actor days. And, apparently, Trot Nixon could have been in the same town. You’d think that someone would have told me.
Oh! Oh! Oh! But there’s more news!
Giving us yet another reason to roll our eyes at New York, Mayor Bloomberg called Boston “Loserville.” Really. Mr. Bloomberg, do you know what comeuppins are? Because they’re comeuppining in April. Loserville? Really? Tim Thomas? Are you going to stand for that? I’ll be checking Facebok later for your statement.
I will remember this, Mr. Bloomberg, and I will rub your snotty little New York nose in it on behalf of all New England (just don’t cry again, Tom Brady) in April. Seriously, footballians, stop crying. How many rings does New England have? Honestly. You’d think you were Michelle Kwan. And a silver medal isn’t THAT bad.
And stop. STOP. Pulling baseball fans into your web of depression with whiny reminders like:
If only Wes Welker caught the ball. If he had, the city of Boston would still be sweeping up the confetti and Tom Brady would be resting comfortably in the pantheon of football greats. We’d still think Giselle Bundchen was charming and we’d be practicing dance moves to imitate Rob Gronkowski’s postgame partying. Eric Wilbur would be living a peaceful life.
Sound familiar? Sure does. In fact, it sounds a lot like last September.
SHUT. UP. Seriously, New England. You WON the Sandwich Monday Contest. Who NEEDS the Super Bowl?
Arbitration has been scheduled for Papi. Here’s to hoping it’s quick and painless!
I’m not the only one, btw, who rolled my eyes at Dan Shaughnessy yesterday. Our friends at Fenway West also voiced their whatevers at ya, Dan.
Speaking of rolling our eyes, the Roy Oswalt drama continues. And my eyes? They’re still rolling. You’d think they’d get tired.
So, kiddies, what do you think? Teenagers. Papi. Roy Oswalt. I’d like to hear your thoughts of the whole mess that is the Red Sox offseason.
What a beautiful day in Boone, North Carolina! The sun, Soxies, is shining. The temperature is NOT freezing. The mood? Chipper. That’s right. CHIPPER. All, my dears, is right with the world.
And the internet is complimenting my day. The internet NEVER does that.
See, in honor of the Super Bowl, Time Magazine recreated great New York vs Boston moments…
Like the 2004 ALCS!
It’s like Time Magazine said to itself, “how can we make Lauren’s already spectacular morning even more spectacular? Why, with a double dose of 2004 miraculousness.”
The Sox didn’t need extra-innings to win game six but rather starting pitcher Curt Schilling bravely playing through the pain of a torn tendon sheath to pitch the Sox to victory (it would forever be known as the bloody sock game). By now the Yankees were reeling and with Johnny Damon hitting a grand slam early on in the winner-take-all game seven, New York couldn’t recover and arguably the greatest choke in sports history was complete. The Sox became the first team in MLB history to lose the first three games and win a seven-match series. They didn’t lose another game, sweeping the St. Louis Cardinals in the World Series to finally end the 86 year-long curse.
So, see, Oswalt, I no longer give a frick what you do. Go ahead and meet with the fricking Rangers. It is of little consequence today.
And Delcarmen, I LOVE that you’re the Stank’s problem now. Good for you. Have fun.
And sure, Ben Cherington. Tell the world that our rotation is game ready. Go ahead.
Not even your extreme denial can bring me down today.
Because there are birds today, people. Birds. And they are singing and not shitting all over metaphorical cars. You know. Like hopes and dreams.
The shithawks? Not hovering around MY head.
Life is good.
PS- Are you my Twitter friend yet? Because you should be.
Roy Oswalt might not be INTERESTED in us? Are we not pretty enough for you, Roy? Because I’m pretty enough for all of you.
So much news to report when you’re avoiding your own life-altering decisions! Now they’re saying Roy Oswalt has been made an offer. So, um, does this mean we could have the handy-dandy Oswalt-Jackson combo of badassery? Because I’m good at math see. And TWO is always better than ONE.
The Sox have made Oswalt an offer, according to CBS Sports’ Jon Heyman, but it’s reportedly unclear whether he’s interested in joining the team.
Seriously? YOU could be rejecting US? You realize that our management has rejected… um… almost everyone BUT you, right?
Wait… wait, wait… rejecting us for… Cincinnati???? Seriously?
See, this is kind of a big deal, Roy Oswalt. You could be… um… the ONLY big move we’ve made um… ALL OFFSEASON.
Reject us. Hah.
I’ll show you rejection. I’ll reject your rejection, you mess with me.
I’m going to wikipedia you. I’m going to wikipedia you hard, Roy Oswalt.
Oswalt is known as one of the faster workers in baseball in terms of time between pitches. Despite his small frame, he is one of baseball’s hardest hurlers, and frequently appears among the league leaders in innings pitched.
Oswalt throws four primary pitches. His fastball is consistently between 92 miles per hour (148 km/h) and 94 miles per hour (151 km/h), occasionally touching 95 miles per hour (153 km/h) to 97 miles per hour (156 km/h); he throws a high percentage of fastballs and is known to be very aggressive, at times throwing multiple fastballs in a row into the strike zone. He throws an overhand curveball at a speed of approximately 70 miles per hour (110 km/h) that is thrown with three fingers over the seams. Oswalt also throws a Vulcan changeup in the low 80s, which he added to his repertoire during the 2010 offseason, and a slider in the mid-80s.
What the frick is a Vulcan changeup?
You won a gold medal. That’s neat. Um. Okay.
Wikipedia, you seriously need to work on putting more personal information on baseball players on your website. How can I ridicule Oswalt into accepting our offer if I don’t know his character weaknesses and dating history????
Your pitching flaw, at least, is evident.
Oswalt is currently considered to be among the elite pitchers in the National League.
The NATIONAL League. Yeah. That kind of doesn’t count, Roy Oswalt. The ALE is a whole different ballgame. Esp now. Hmmm. I don’t blame you for the wide-eyed fear you probably feel. But you’ll like Boston, Roy. You really will. I mean, I’m not in Boston, a flaw with the city that haunts Kevin Youkilis to this day, but there are other neat things. Like bars. And your new teammates like beer, apparently, so you’ll never Happy Hour alone. Oh! And Boston is the setting of Cheers, like, the greatest show of all time. So you’ll always have Ted Danson. And you could jog along the Cape with a puppy and pretend you’re a Kennedy. See? So many great things about Boston. And there’s, apparently, a Cheesecake Factory. Oh, and maybe you’d get to meet Mitt Romney.
Now that I have swayed you, you should really call Benny C back asap. Before he goes bargain binning and gets like seven more mediocre versions of you. Because he’ll do it. Just ask Jed Lowrie.
And I know how difficult this is, Roy. I have a lucrative job offer on the table too. I get it. But, see, it doesn’t get any better than Boston. Just ask David Ortiz.
J.D. Drew is “probably” retiring, reports today indicate. Despite the mad flurry of Drew-hate peppering the nation over the past two years, I’ve never had a huge problem with you, J.D. I find your breakability irritating. I find your inconsistency mind-numbing (but attribute it to your breakability). But I remember the real you, J.D. I can still remember your home run pops and that cool indifferent reaction to your own badassishness. You’ll finish your career with a respectable 242 homers and my respect, sir.
You were very, very expensive. I mean. I don’t want to nitpick. But you were very. VERY. Expensive. I loved you in 2007. But I loved everyone in 2007 (mostly). I mean, you’re no Kevin Youkilis, J.D. Drew, but you can afford a Kevin Youkilis beard implant, if you want. I mean, you did average like, $8 million a year for 14 years. That’s even more impressive than those 242 homers. I hope you can use your retirement to… I don’t know… take vitamins or something.
In addition to the hefty salary, Drew’s inability to stay completely healthy contributed to the stigma that he was overrated. He never appeared in more than 146 games in a season and averaged just 470 plate appearances per campaign from 1999-2011.
But, in the words of Marc Antony, I come to honor you. Not pick you apart flaw by expensive flaw. But I think you need to retire. I think you need to retire. And up those fricking Flintstones because every time you break, angels cry.
In “whatever” retirement news, Jorge Posada officially announced his retirement today.
I am devastated. Really.
Just when my Posada verb was catching on.
Just when people were starting to say “Go Posada yourself” when they were cut off in traffic.
Just when “I don’t give a Posada whether you take my lunch money. You’ll never take my self respect,” was the new “it” phrase to thwack bullies with…
“I could never wear another uniform,” Posada said at a televised Yankee Stadium news conference.
Literally. Didn’t you… um… try? And then have absolutely no success? Because no other uniforms would take you? You really Posada-ed yourself with that temper tantrum over the summer, mate.
Our very own Jason Varitek (possibly the next name on the plaque in front of the old folks retirement home) even had a comment. But he’s old too. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.
“After hundreds of head-to-head games during the regular season and the postseason, I can’t say I respect and admire anyone at our position more than I do Jorge. The hard work and preparation he put into catching is a huge reason he has five championships on his resume. He is a true grinder.”
As for the Tek (we alllllll know my Tek obsession. I won’t give you a double dose)-
It seems to me that dragging this out is helping no one, guys. He’s the captain. Show him a little more respect than arbitrary offers. Get real or get him coaching. ASAP.
I’m 27. And I’ll retire at age like, 97 at this rate.
Wow. That’s depressing.
I need a moment, guys…
And if you have a comment on ANYTHING you see here today, feel free to shoot me a buzz at email@example.com. I LOVE e-mails. Like LOVE e-mails more than Posada loves his rings.
Side note- $214 million? NINE years? Um. Okay. I don’t want Prince Fielder anymore. Um.
Nick Cafardo and I agree on one thing today. And that is Tim Wakefield.
Who- as I’ve said before- we shouldn’t just write off- despite the imaginary walker.
Not sure it’s safe to assume that his tenure with Boston is over. Even if they don’t sign him right now, what prevents them from bringing him back in May or June or even after the All-Star break if they need a starter? He could always be one of those half-season veteran pitchers.
That’s what I see for Tim. Tim’s a utility guy and a hero. He’s not the guy you parade around the mound for a milestone. He can still serve a purpose.
And every time we write him out- he comes back as a weapon.
Well, you know. Except for that one time. Okay, that several times over the summer.
But that wasn’t his fault, see. It was the number.
Numbers are scary beasts.
So. Here’s the deal, folks. Benny C is playing it… safe? Is that even the word for this? He’s certainly playing it oppositeville. Maybe he was hanging out with Michael Hill… they were playing chess, see, when all of a sudden… the board, it got struck by lightning, right? And their hair frizzed up. Oh! And then, something magical happened like that one time on Gilligan’s Island. They switched brains!!!!!
Or, maybe Benny C doesn’t know we have money.
Maybe he doesn’t read all the disparaging comments people make about how we’re moneybaggers and buy our championships and have a bazillion dollars.
Or maybe he’s busy arguing salaries with our six unsigned arbitration-eligible players: RHP Alfredo Aceves, INF Mike Aviles, RHP Andrew Bailey, RHP Daniel Bard, OF Jacoby Ellsbury and DH David Ortiz.
Or maybe he’s still playing with the rolly chair in what used to be Theo Epstein’s office.
Are we REALLY too broke for Roy Oswalt?
I do not understand how moving around payroll works. I understand that it’s how we lost Alex Rodriguez (blessing in disguise). I understand that the internet understands it better than I do-
Can we unLackey ourselves or something? I mean, it’s not like he can play…
I am so confuzzled by our pseudo-poverty.
So, in other words- this could be as good as it gets- at least for now.
Provided we have Aceves in our rotation- how do we stack up- right now- as of Jan. 17? Because I’m not feeling the rotation strength. The real people we’ll be counting on- Lester, Beckett, Buccholz- they couldn’t pull us out of a Soxplosion. And now they’re starring in our comeback tour? I’m not feeling the pep today, folks.
In other news- it always hurts when someone moves on. You know the relationship is over. You say you’re fine. But it’s like that Gavin DeGraw song-
I think it’s pretty obvious who I’m talking about…
I’m hearing a lot of hate.
Everyone’s heartbroken about Josh Reddick, who, if you didn’t read my post from yesterday, is now officially a letter and not a Sox…
But, see, this movie doesn’t have to have a crappy ending.
We’ve all seen this situation before.
I think you know what I’m talking about.
This EXACT situation happened in a classic film from 1987.
I think it’s obvious where I’m going with this.
That’s right, ladies and gents. Classic of all classics, “The Brave Little Toaster.”
Allow me to explain.
Okay. So, there’s this toaster, right? Let’s just call him Josh. And, despite being BADASS (you should see the toast man, it’s stellar. Just add butter), toasters are a competitive lot. I mean, Josh is like a two toast toaster. And there are like, eight toast toasters at Walmart for just a couple of extra dollars. Even though Josh’s toast is faster. And crispier. And, um, energy star. And who eats eight pieces of toast anyway? So, when the kid grows up, let’s call that kid… oh, I don’t know… BEN. When the kid grows up, he’s going to get all these new appliances, right? Like an electric blanket that works and stuff.
So the Toaster, um, Josh, and his little friends (D-Lowe! Gotta have hope! Tek!) go on this walk about, right? And have these great adventures. All to find their kid again.
I mean, it’s scary. As we know, it’s not a movie for the faint of heart.
I mean, it has Joba Chamberlain…
And the Orioles…
Oh! Joe Maddon…
It’s a very scary movie, guys. Can you believe I watched this when I was three?
Anyway, SPOILER alert, the toaster comes back. And so will Josh. You’ll see. And when he comes back, we’ll all eat toast.
He just has to have an animated adventure first.
There. Feel better?
YOU ARE WELCOME.
Never seen BLT? Well, this situation is also exactly like this movie… Except without the grizzly bears.
This means no more Papface.
No more Papjig.
No more PAPELBON.
He’s leaving us, see, for the SANDWICHES.
Seriously, Paps. I bet you could have found a sandwich in the dugout underneath all the KFC bags.
WHO WILL REMAIN AND WHAT WILL BE LEFT OF US?
I am never, ever, ever leaving town again.
NO MORE PAPELPUNS. OHNO.
I am most upset about this. I need some time to process my emotions. And… the candy at the office today is… CIRCUS PEANUTS??? What the frick?
PS- You know what hurts worse than watching your ex move on?
This is a TERRIBLE day in sports.
Yes. So we all needed a good cry/Fiona Apple angst marathon after what can only be called the nauseating icing on a crapcupcake of a game… (Avilles, REALLY???? REALLY???)
But now that we’ve had our moment. Our breath. Our private walk punching session. Now that the Neosporin is starting to cool off our bandaged knuckles… it’s time to put things into perspective.
Sweet, sweet perspective.
And that perspective says:
At least we’re not Cleveland.
Over Labor Day weekend, 10 of the ablest minds at Grantland briefly stopped typing their own names into a Google search bar and devoted themselves to a sad question: Which city’s fan base is enduring the roughest stretch in sports right now? Where should the sympathetic among us direct our pity? Or, for the cruel at heart, our Schadenfreude?
Check it out. It’s how I almost smiled today. Thaanks, JEB.
PS- If I get off work (60 percent chance!), join me at 7 for a live victory blog. <-positivity. Let’s try it.
You know, Wakey, maybe you should stop thinking about 200 as a milestone. Shoot for 500. FIVE HUNDRED. Then, see, you have 301 games that don’t matter, really, in the grand scheme of the milestone. It’s psychological. Write it on your mirror or something. It can only help. FIVE HUNDRED.