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Posts Tagged ‘Daniel Bard’

Jon Lester is punishing us for taking away the chicken.

March 21, 2012 8 comments

Do you ever think it’s on purpose? Like, for some reason, Jon Lester is mad at us?

My puppy does this sometimes. Not so much anymore now that she’s a grown up (take note, Jon Lester). But you hear about it. Your puppy is angry at you so she poos in the middle of the floor. Or on your Fortune magazine.

Is this your middle-of-the-floor poo, Jon Lester? Okay. We get it. We’ll walk you. GEEZ.

Baaaaaad Pirate loss aside (the fricking PIRATES?), things aren’t so stable in the nation.

And, despite what you may read, it’s not just the rotation that’s breaking like hips on osteoporosis.

Check out this depressing read on Carl Crawford. Actually… don’t. You might not want to… Here. Read this pointless article on A-Gonz instead. Or this!

Oh good. Media reports of “trouble brewing.” I’m so glad we have the media to interpret horrible losses as horrible losses.

Okay. 6-5 wouldn’t be horrible. You know. Unless it was against the FRICKING Pirates.

But, let’s be comforted in the fact that it is just a dress rehearsal. Let’s all take a deep breath and…

Hi, Media. You’re back.

Is Bobby Valentine taking the right approach? <- Really? How can we POSSIBLY know that when haven’t even played a REAL game? Seriously, people. I’m not going to say I’m wading in tulips over the way this week has been playing out, but it’s SPRING TRAINING. They don’t always nail the soliloquies weeks before the show, guys…

The losses aren’t what fills me with motionsicky dread. What fills me with motionsicky dread is the overall organization, or lack thereof. How we’re still in rumored talks with Roy Oswalt (SERIOUSLY) and don’t have a concrete rotation. Or a concrete lineup. Or a concrete anything, really. It’s like a dress rehearsal with only half a script. THAT is what we should be freaking out about. Not specifics. The general icky disorganization.

Panic about the CORRECT thing, Soxies.

Bobby V is still not sure about Bard- I’m okay with that uncertainty. It’s this thing Bobby V and I share. If we were friends, we’d talk about this over cheesecake. Bobby V, unlike most of you, Twitter world, gets the free pass dilemma. Bard keeps handing them out. I think it’s because he’s charitable. There’s no room for charitable DURING the games, Bard. That’s what Jimmy Fund events are for…

“I don’t think that even with his good stuff I could handle the walks,” Valentine said. “Now I don’t know if [it's the] spring…and trying to impress. That’s why I looked for the changeup. If there was a pitch he wasn’t comfortable with and that was causing some of these negative counts, I would have been able to use that as an excuse.”

Of course, look at our options… Doubront… MILLER…

Sigh. With the current troupe of players, Bard might be the default…

I have said all along I trust Aceves’ experience over Bard’s mound moping… I like Bard. I do. I like him in the bull pen. And, for once, I am not alone in the universe

Speaking of things to get dizzy about- the Red Sox, at $1 billion (which will buy you a lot of yachts, eh, John Henry?), is the THIRD most valuable team, behind Stanks ($1.85 billion) and Dodgers )$1.5 billion). I’m telling you, it’s all those damn trucker hats the Stanks sell.

The Sox were FOURTH highest in TV rankings… But see, no one actually had to watch us last year, with the media’s careful attention to September highlights…

Fun facts to know and tell-

Revenue $310 million
Operating Income: $25.4 million
Debt/Value: 24%
Player Expenses: $191 million
Gate Receipts: $180 million
Revenue per Fan: $69

Do you think they’ll  refund us our $69 from last year? I sure could use that money. I’d buy eggs.

Have you tweeted me yet? You should.

Speaking of Twitter, apparently, Red Sox Nation was baffled by an Aviles impersonator on Twitter…

PS- They’re trying to make me forget about Jason Varitek again, you guys. I feel as though we should all buy matching NEVER FOREGET bracelets. Who’s with me?

L

Oswalt, no one cares about you. It’s my birthday.

February 7, 2012 6 comments

Roy Oswalt and the Sox have no “traction.” That’s what’s being reported today. Again. I care about this… oh… as much as I did LAST week when a similar report surfaced. Oh. And the week before. And the week before. And… tell me, was this Oswalt crap going on THE WEEK BEFORE THAT?

You know what’s more interesting than ANYTHING you have to say, Roy Oswalt? This morning’s Bleacher Report on the five players under the most pressure.

Got me thinking. The five- the Beckster, A-Gonz, Carl Crawfail, Papi and Bardlebutt. And, since I’m a Sox fan, a cynic and in an irritated mood today, obviously, my thought is the following question:

WHICH ONE OF THE FIVE WILL CAVE FIRST? My guess is Daniel Bard.

What do you think?

And what do you think our most controversial offseason move has been thus far? I’m going to go with Marco Scutaro…

—-

In other news, the Patsies are still sobbing Giant tears. So, this morning, Shaughnessy tries to make us feel better by telling us the Red Sox failures are worse. Gee, thanks, Danny.

Speaking of the Patsies, I know I haven’t done an ASK TOO SOXY in awhile, but I got a super cute e-mail yesterday. Ahem:

Dear Lauren,

I can’t believe you John Denvered (Hah. I did that, didn’t I? Oh, the cleverness of me… I like that. I hope that catches on. John Denvered! Oh, classic) the Super Bowl. Do you know that most of your readers are Patriots fans? (I have readers?!) And you get really off topic. Reading your blog is ALREADY annoying (So is your face). Maybe you shouldn’t alienate the fan base you have left. If the Sox had lost to the Giants (um) you’d have a sappy, dramatic One Tree Hill song for us (you do read me! you do!), not John Denver. Maybe you owe your readers an apology.

Cash

Brian Cashman, are you an inner New England fan?! I never knew! See, the usual me would mock you for your mixed sports similes and ponder at why you, a good speller, has so much fricking free time. I’d thank you over and over again for your clearly obsessive fanship of my blog and probably send you a commemorative silver star in my mind. But you’re right. The new me should be more sensitive. Should humor you. After all. I am 28-years-old today. Much more mature than yesterday’s 27. So. No John Denver. Here you go. This is me humoring you. And your humiliating, humiliating, excruciating Brady (that’s my new word for LOSS. It’s a verb AND a noun) yesterday. I mean, I did expect you guys to Brady to the Giants. But maybe I should have been more sensitive when you Bradyed. So. It’s just one Brady, after all. I mean, it’s a pretty super Brady. And Madonna was watching. But really, she slept with A-Rod. Her credibility is shot. But I loved her outfit. Did you love her outfit? Life is a mystery… Sing it, blondie. Sing it. Right. Back to you. And your team’s humiliating, nationally televised Brady. Let’s all sway to Joseph Arthur. Who was NOT in an episode of One Tree Hill.

Here. Stare at this while that song is playing for the full effect, k?

So, Soxies, happy my birthday to you. I hope it’s filled with sunshine and wins. You know. And not Bradys.

~L

Maybe Daniel Bard’s not so bad… Oh, wait…

February 4, 2012 4 comments

Boston Red Sox players and other sports personalities in the city pick the Patriots to win the Super Bowl. No surprise there.

Except for Daniel Bard, who is going with the Giants.

Haha.

Oh. Wait.

Derek Jeter and Kobe Bryant are among Brady’s favorite athletes, according to reports.

It’s all starting to make sense. So THAT’s how you finagled starting rotation… rotation for… soul?

I didn’t mean that (I did a little bit).

Speaking of dastardly things, Josh Beckett has FINALLY broken his silence! Finally? Really, media?

“If we would have pitched better, none of that stuff would have even been an issue. And it shouldn’t be an issue anyway because what goes on in the clubhouse should stay in the clubhouse. I don’t care who says that or whatever, I’m not saying we don’t make mistakes in the clubhouse . . . it’s just what goes on in the clubhouse, it’s supposed to stay in the clubhouse.’’

So. Um. Let’s stop talking about it?

Ahem. More news.

—-

Curt Schilling has been so loud lately that even the YANKEES are catching on.

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And leave Youkie alone, Boston Dirt Dogs!

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Happy day-before-Super Bowl, ladies and gents! And, if you haven’t participated in my Super Bowl pool (um, all but like, three of you), get on that ASAP.

PS- You’re welcome for the Roy Oswalt-free article.

~L

This one’s for you, Bard!

Nick Cafardo and I agree on something. Oh, and this could be as good as it gets, folks.

January 17, 2012 11 comments

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-

…in order to sign the pitcher at his current asking price a corresponding roster move would have to made in order to free up payroll.

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

~L

Ask Too Soxy: Daniel Bard, Manny and how awesome I am

December 12, 2011 7 comments

I am having a bad day.

No. You know what? Let me capitalize that.

I am having a BAD DAY.

So, I’m turning to the one thing guaranteed to put a smile on my face and a skip in my step (provided there are no more icy stairs. Skips in one’s steps leaves one vulnerable to really dramatic backflip falls, I hear): Your letters.

—-

In today’s edition of Ask Too Soxy, we first hear from Ryan. Okay. So, that’s not his e-mail signature. But I’ve decided it’s less vulgar to just make up a nondescript name.

“Ryan” writes:

Dear Too Soxy (I added the “dear.” I always add the “dear.” Guys, when you e-mail me, could you add in your own “dear?” Thanks.)

How does it feel to vomit your season?

Sincerely (added that too),

“Ryan.”

 

Hi, “Ryan.” First of all, let me tell you I appreciate your twitteresque efficiency when it come to the written word. Most people must utilize several lines of text before revealing themselves as jackasses devoid of constructive thought, a feat you alone can accomplish in eight words. Bravo! And using the word “vomit” instead of its lesser urban descriptors (barf, puke, etc) definitely showcases your post-10th grade education. So kudos to you! No toothbrush toilet scrubbing for “Ryan!” I didn’t realize they had Internet access at your temporary-just-until-your-screenplay-about-frogs-takes-off job at the Mini-Mart. And your generalizations! I applaud you on your ability (one shared by several, mind you- a fact I must point out so that you don’t think I’m applauding any creativity) to lump an entire season into a one-month Soxsplosion. That must be very freeing. Like that time you were canned from Taco Bell for never showing up to work, yet thought it all had to do with jealousy over your screenplay’s recent near success at the local writer’s guild critique at Golden Corral. It must be very freeing to, instead of concentrating on your life as a whole (yikes) series of failures, be able to fixate on that last mini-failure. It probably helps keep the cold, cold despair from trickling out of your eyelids on those blind dates that have been less and less frequent lately. Now, to answer your question: Frankly, “Ryan,” it sucks.

Sincerely, (<- see what a positive punch that one little adverb can have, “Ryan?”)

Lauren

 

Next, let’s cross over to the Midwest and hear from John. John says he’s from Michigan. See, I’m thrilled to hear from someone from Michigan. Thrilled. Because it’s 29 degrees outside. And I bet you’re colder, John. Thank you for that.

 

Dear Lauren,

I am excited to have Daniel Bard start. I think it’s a good move, but I see you keep saying mistake. What other choice do we have,  (I added the comma) really?

~John

 

Dear John (hah! I feel like I’m in a bad Nicholas Sparks novel all of a sudden. I kind of don’t want to leave the parenthesis because then cruel, cruel reality will set in…),

Daniel Bard has done this starting thing before, remember? I believe an appropriate summation would be the following hyphenated term: Mega-fail. He wasn’t just inefficient. He was bad. He was like, Lackey-in-an-important-game bad.

Additionally, he has already shown that pressure gives him more than hives. It gives him the temporary title of “Crazy Pitch.”

We’re already shifting Alfredo Aceves- who, I might add, is the epitome of versatility. You take out Aceves AND Bard and you’re just asking for trouble. A bullpen without badassery is just… well… a fence.

I’m a fan of leaving Bard EXACTLY where he is. Bullpen super star. I think “Crazy Pitch” was flukey this fall and, while I am confident that flukes aren’t permanent- that doesn’t mean I trust him at something as crucial as closing, either.  He needs a hot second to warm up to badassery and closers don’t have the hot second. They are the hot second. Bard is just not up to hot second snuff. Let’s pop him in the bullpen and watch what happens.

What other choice do we have? We have all the choices in the world, John. We have, right now, Clay. We have Beckett. We have Aceves. We have Lester. We have Miller- but I think he’s bullpenable too. We have the capability of snatching someone. It’s a long off-season. And don’t count out Doubrant, who is much more startable (look at Triple A) than Bard. I think Ben Cherington is making a big mistake by not making big moves. The more we stall, the more terrible the answer to the question- What other choice do we have?- becomes. Am I the only one holding out an ounce of Dice-K hope?

Sincerely,

Lauren

 

Dear Lauren,

A girl that’s into sports. I never thought I would meet one. You are awesome.

Sincerely,

Jason

 

Dear Jason,

A girl that’s into sports. You still haven’t met one. This is the Internet, Jason. I could be a Tibetan monk with an I-phone. Or a rebellious Amish blacksmith or something with a record-setting beard. You don’t know.

We both do, however, know that I am awesome. Thanks for further bringing my awesomeness to my attention. Sometimes I think I’ll forget.

Sincerely,

Lauren

 

Dear Too Soxy,

You talk smack about Manny, but he’s the Sox’s golden child. So when you talk smack about Manny, you’re talking smack about the Sox. Think about that.

Sincerely,

Sunny

Dear Sunny,

I was extremely disappointed to find you’re not nearly as peppy as your name implies. Seriously. Sunny is a name that evokes positivity. Optimism. I have decided to call you Cloudy. Cloudy McManny. I think that’s more appropriate. And I like adding “mc” to things. Let me start this again:

Dear Cloudy McManny,

Thank you so much for reading. It’s wonderful to know that out of all the Sox sites in all the world, you’ve stumbled into mine.

As far as talking “smack” about Manny, while it’s true I have made some extremely spot-on observations, the “smack” is what Ramirez is injecting into those obnoxiously veiny arms of his. And, the truth is in the juice. He got caught post-Sox. Therefore, I’m talking shit (much better term than “smack” now that I’ve told you what “smack” really means, right?) about the post-Sox Manny.

At least as far as steroids are concerned.

Sox Manny was a jackass.  A point I have been on the record about pre- and post- Sox ouster. I take extreme issue with players who simply don’t want to play. Manny wanted to prank. Manny wanted to pose. But Manny didn’t want to play. Good riddance.

And seriously- how many bridges does Manny have to burn before baseball says no?

Sincerely,

Lauren

And, with that beep, my day just got worse.

Think of me, Soxies.

PS- make your letters LONGER. Shoot them to ohnolauren@gmail.com

~L

 

 

Daniel Bard? Starter?

December 11, 2011 7 comments

“I told him to prepare to be a starter,” Bobby Valentine said.

The official Too Soxy opinion?

MISTAKE.

Discuss.

~L

Maybe Brian Cashman isn’t (entirely) evil and other stories to spin your Sunday.

November 13, 2011 8 comments

So. Brian Cashman of Stankees infamy does have a redeeming quality: His taste in players. When asked to identify his favorite player to watch from another club, he only said what everyone was thinking.

Kevin Youkilis probably. He really grinds out an at-bat and just kills you. He is so determined,” said Cashman. “You can pitch him in. You can hit him. Whatever. He just gets back in there and it’s sheer determination. It’s never a comfortable at-bat when you’re watching this guy try to do damage against your pitchers. He just finds a way to do it. I appreciate watching how he goes about his business and just how tenacious he is. A lot of these guys are very controlled in this sport, unlike football. But he’s got a tenaciousness that just oozes right through his bat, right there at the plate, and it’s pretty special to watch.”

He IS pretty special, isn’t he?

And, before you totally blink out of oppositeville, guess who Sox scout Galen Car said: DEREK JETER.

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PITCHING NEWS

In good news, Captain Obvious’s messages are finally hitting home, as Alfredo Aceves is being conditioned to start in the Sox rotation.

The “I-told-you-so” chorus would be louder, but it is currently Papelgrieving, so…

There are also rumors that Bard’s being looked at for rotation. But that’s a bad idea. Why?

Were you watching baseball this summer? Do we really have to relive the pain? He’s a short-term pitcher with not a lot of inning depth- and his eyes bug out in pressure games. Let’s work him in the bullpen until he’s unJenksed, k?

And rumors are circulating about Matt Cain.

The MANAGER Search

And Torey Lovullo (ex Paw-Sox manager) and Gene Lamont (Tigers) are adding their names to the dating pool for the management gig. And I have a TooSoxy endorsement that may not be the most popular.

TOREY LOVULLO.

Yes, I know he’s a Jay- but just hear me out. Not only has he ALREADY had to deal with Sox drama (Paw Sox, yep, Paw Sox) AND is familiar with the players- he’s currently the righthand of John Farrell. Something HAS to have rubbed off. Darkhorse? Yes. Popular? No. Sveum? No. My choice? YES.

To be fair, Lamont and Sveum have also worked with the Sox- but in a bigger capacity- so they could already be tainted by Front Office whimsy. It all makes sense in my head, see.

Besides, the killer is always the person you least suspect. And NO ONE suspects Lovullo.

And, since I know how much my opinion means to you, America- start reaquainting yourself to Clam Chowder, New England style, Lovullo. And the rest of you, start learning to spell his name. THREE Ls, people. Come on.

—-

Our FAs

So. Paps is out. But that doesn’t mean we have to lose the rest of our hopes and dreams. There’s Jason Varitek, and FireBrand says it’s time to let go:

Based on what you can expect from a 40-year old catcher, it might best to move on. It’s Lavarnway time but it’s always great to remember how important Varitek has been to the Boston Red Sox and how lucky we were to have him.

TooSoxy has a different opinion.

We’ll never let go, will we, Soxies? (Yes. I went there)

So he’s no spring chicken (Is it too soon for chicken jokes?). Tek needs to retire in a Sox uniform. He’s more than a glove. He’s a leader. I say slide him into Curt Young’s vacancy. He’s more than the catcher. He’s the captain. And after what we’ve been through, we need stability, continuity and JASON VARITEK.

David Ortiz. If Tek is the soul of the Sox, Ortiz is its heart. And he’s not going ANYWHERE. Right, Ben Cherington? Right?

“There’s some interesting guysout there that could factor into our right-field mix,” said Cherington. “A lot of that depends again on David. If David’s here, we’re going to go in a certain direction with the outfield. If he’s not here, it sort of opens it up a little bit. There’s alternatives, both in free agency and in a trade market for guys that can play right field.”

Is anyone else NOT comforted by that?

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Letting go

Theo Epstein is really gone. Really, really. And, even though HE CAN’T SEEM TO SHUT UP AND LET GO… we have to.

“How do you describe a death spiral?” he said. “We knew we had issues going into September (even though) we were on pace for 100 wins. We just couldn’t stop bleeding. A lot of things happened at the same time. We lost a few key guys to injury, a few guys had a significant downturn in their performance, and all of a sudden we looked up and we didn’t have enough pitching.”

SHUT UP!

“There weren’t players getting drunk during games. And it wasn’t widespread — it might have been one, two, three guys,” Epstein said.

Stop talking! You are making it worse!

I think this is alllllll part of the plan to steal our manager candidates.

—-

Bizarre News

And, in bizarrely horrific news, remember the Washington Nationals catcher kidnapped in Venezuela? (This really happened) He’s been rescued.

What is the world coming to?

So much news. Anyone else’s eyes rolling around in their heads?

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TooSoxy has Twitter

And, in the most exciting news news of the weekend, we officially have a Twitter page. Tweet me. Tweet me like you’ve never Tweeted before.

—-

So, thoughts people! Manager search! Ortiz! Tek! Who should stay? Who should go? Who should be kidnapped next in Venezuela (too soon, Lauren. Too soon)? Onward to the caffiene.

~L

And just in time… to lose?

August 1, 2011 7 comments

JUST got off work. Bottom of the 8th? 2 outs. And… OUT. Pedroia.

What happened?

“An unusual thing to happen to Daniel Bard tonight…” ~Announcer.

What unusual thing? What unusual thing?

I HATE 13 hour, no-lunch-break days.

—–

Oh.

Daniel Bard’s scoreless streak of 26 1/3 innings — spread over 25 outings since May 27 — finally came to an end on Monday night at Fenway.

Oh.

Asdrubal Cabrera. Oh.

“You go out there with confidence every time,” Bard said of the streak before the game. “I expect the same thing out of myself every time, which is to throw up a zero or two zeroes — whatever they ask of me. Nothing really changes for me. My confidence level is definitely high, but whose wouldn’t be if you get on one of these rolls? A lot of it’s luck, but I’ll take some credit, I guess, myself. A little bit.”

BARD! You jinxed it! Didn’t you ever go to elementary school? Don’t you know how these jinxes work?????

I bet you didn’t even knock on wood.

The Indians. I’ve always said those non-politically-correct-feather-heads were a problem.

But… Bard… that was only part of the 9-6 game… who allowed the other runs???

Oh.

OH.

John Lackey started off in a way previously unseen this season, as he had his first 1-2-3 first inning of 2011, struck out three of the first six batters he faced, and retired the first eight Cleveland batters of the night. Once he did allow a hit, the Indians were able to get to him, as they scored five runs over Lackey’s 6 2/3 innings of work.

OH. IT WAS YOU, JOHN LACKEY.

ABLE TO GET TO HIM??????? They were able to TRAMPLE him.

Someone needs to threaten you. Or scream at you. Or something.

BIG SURPRISE.

You quit.

Hah.

What do we do with you Lackey? Is it your feelings? Are your ‘ittle feelings getting in the way of pitching the damn ball?

Do you need an inspirational speech? Is that what you need? Because I can do that. Inspirational speeches… inspirational speeches… Ah. Here we are.

“You are so full of crap… you’ve got hardly a speck of athletic ability. And you hung in with the best baseball team in the land for TWO YEARS. And you’re also going to walk out of here with a win from the WORLD SERIES. In this lifetime you don’t have to prove nothing to nobody but yourself. And after what you’ve gone through, if you haven’t done that by now, it ain’t gonna never happen. Now go on back.”

USELESS.

Well, that settles it. The pledge is null and void. You did this to yourself, Johnny. Why do you make me mock you so?

WHY???? Do you think I ENJOY this?

I think you have deep seated issues, deeper than I, a blogger, can deal with. I think you need to talk to Timlin or something.

Thoughts on the game I missed? Observations I should know about?

Bah. Humbug. The Stanks are 1.5 behind. Top of the 9th, 3-2, Stanks. GOOOOOOOO WHITE SOX.

~L

LIVE bloggin’ some Lackey.

July 27, 2011 9 comments

6:30 p.m.: T-minus one hour and counting… And I am definitely stopping by the liquor store on MY way home. Because tonight… horror of all horrors (crap. The PLEDGE) wonder of all wonders, we have the one, the only, the ugly

JOHN LACKEY!!!

Eeek! I mean:

JOHN LACKEY!!!!!!!!

My bad.

Tonight’s drink of choice is…

The John Lackey! A double shot of whatever cheap liquor is on sale.

See you in an hour. And please join me. I have pledged not to say anything bad about John Lackey. John Lackey is pitching. <– See the moral support I require?

—-

Food. Check.

Which Wich: I’m happy you opened a store in Boone. Really, I am. And my hummus sandwich with the crispy onions makes me quite happy. But your clientele? Questionable. Just saying.

——-

A trip to the ABC, and I’ll be good to go…

—–

“Lackey (8-8, 6.28 ERA) started the month of July with a putrid performance, allowing seven runs in 2 1/3 innings against the Blue Jays, but he’s steadily improved over his last three starts. Since July 9, he’s 3-0 with a 1.95 ERA, including an impressive seven-inning, one-run start against the Mariners in his last outing. Granted, the Mariners rank 30th in the majors in runs, batting average and on-base percentage, but the win brought Lackey’s record back to .500, a confidence boost for any pitcher.

And. Okay. I did see THIS, when Lackey made a big deal about being willing to go in Monday night. That was cool. I GUESS.

In one way, the image of Lackey, who is on tap to take the mound Wednesday night, stretching in the dugout and then making his way out to the pen was not something the manager ever wanted to see. In another way, it was.

“That’s probably a side of guys that you guys don’t see, that we appreciate,” Francona added. “Probably why we defend guys, because that’s not at my urging. He’s running down there to help. We appreciate that.”

I can read between the lines. This is the internet telling us everything’s going to be okay.

You’re right, internet. We are going to be JUST fine. John Lackey is going to be JUST swell. Thanks, Internet.

Still need something to get pumped up for tonight’s game? Jeb fans like FDA should check out THIS LINK.  It’s why Jeb and Pirate nation didn’t get any sleep last night.

A still of that clip is Jeb’s facebook profile picture.

6:50. Ready to play.

————

7:19. Okay. Um. I have been very quiet. Very quiet for about five minutes now. So quiet. Just watching. You know. Sitting here. On my couch. Watching you, John Lackey. The game is FIVE minutes in. And it is THREE TO ZERO Royals. Top of the FIRST. One out.

I just want YOU to know that I know, Lackey. I KNOW.

—-

Base hit. Look at that. Third hit in the inning. Look at that. Are you looking at that, LACKEY? Just checking. Jussssst checking.

—-

Oh, look. Line to right. Heading down the corner. Double for Brayan Pena. Look at that. Hi, LACKEY. Keeping my cool. Just like we pledged. See? Just. Like. We. Pledged. I’m sure this is ALLLLLLL part of your plan. Whip them into a false sense of security, right? Right?

29 pitches. 2 outs. and… oh, what’s that? TWO on base? Losing by what, THREE? Just checking.

—–

I don’t know, America. Does THREE runs in an inning violate our pledge?

Time for another John Lackey. JL, you are so much more tolerable in shot form. 7:26.

—-

Bruce Chen. Jacoby Ellsbury.

And… just as I’m about to say something snarky about John Lackey, Jacoby HITS ONE OUT OF THE PARK! Number 17 for Jacoby! 3-1! 3-1! And, thanks to Jacoby, the pledge is intact another minute.

Dustin Pedroia has to jump out of the way to avoid a crazy pitch from this Chen guy. Pedroia is riding a 23-game hitting streak. Kind of a big deal. Kind of something we need. When it’s the FIRST inning and you’re down by THREE. I didn’t say anything. Not a thing. But I am looking your way, Lackey.

—-

HOMERUNNNNNNNN! And Pedroia extends his hitting streak. Oh, yes he does! 14th homer of the season. 3-2. John Lackey must be wetting himself. He needs to buy them beers or something. Because about ten minutes ago I was full of hate. And now I’m full of sunshine. Sunnysunnysunnysunshine.

—-

Gonz is struck out. To a lot of booing, I might add.

Kevin Youkilis. Aka Youki-poo. Aka loveofmylife. Doing his bat dance. I am so glad to see you, Youkie. Alive. And uninjured. And alive.

Fire in their eyes tonight, see?

Ball four. First base for the Youkie-poo. With Ortiz snaking up to the plate.

Chen looks petrified. His eyes keep darting around, and he’s not just checking bases. He has these weird freckle things, see? 2-2, Papi’s giving the death glare. Full count. Death glare. Checking first. Death glare. Papi’s on fire with the glares. Let’s hope he can back it up with a punch. Not literally, David Ortiz. This isn’t an Oriole. He’s just a Royal.

A home run should suffice.

Strikes out? I’d like to see a replay of that, please. 2 outs. “He did not check a swing on that one but he was called out,” Jerry Remy says.

I’m watching you, Ump.

Saltysaltsalt up for some smacking. 5-game hitting streak. I’d be more impressed if HITTING WAS NOT YOUR JOB. Like, If it was me? Like, Lauren has a 5-game hitting streak- see, that’s impressive. Because I don’t have to hit anything. Ever. Ever at all. Except Pixie sticks (the candy. not the drug euphemism). It would be like saying Lauren is on a five-story streak. See, I am paid to write stories for the paper. Just like you are paid to hit balls for the Red Sox. I just … I just… not impressed with your five streak. I’m sorry.

That was rambly. Omen of rambles to come, no doubt. Hi, Salty. You adjust your gloves a lot. Yeah. It’s the gloves fault. Sure. Jacoby’s uniform is awfully clean in the dugout. Meanwhile, back in salty land, full count. Third consecutive three ball count for Bruce Chen, if you’re paying attention. I’m not. But Jerry Remy is. Strike out.

Wow. Two runs. We’d be 2-0. You know. If SOMEONE hadn’t allowed those three runs.

—-

Lackey.

“John Lackey had kind of a guard on his elbow and the umpire asked him to take it off,” announcer said.

Maybe it was the sleeve that allowed the three runs. Not the Lackey. Thanks for watching out for us, Ump.

Grounder, thrown out. First out.

Ew. Lackey just spit. Ew. America saw that, Johnny.

Fair ball. Look at that. Second base. Look at that. Second double of the night for this guy. Hmmm. Second. What was that, Lackey? Second?

Staying calm. Staying cool. Just the second. Just Johnny being…

Running Gordon back and forth… got him out. Other guy safe at second. Okay. So we’ve got a guy on second. How did that happen? Oh, that’s right. He got a hit, Lackey. That’s what happened.

Butler at the bat. Lackey’s on pitch 39.

This is not a criticism/mockery/judgment… but what is John Lackey doing with his beard? Really?

In the dirt. Okay. I’m sure you were just keeping Salty on his toes. He’s on his toes, see? So you can just pitch now. Thanks. Oh. Another base hit. Oh. So, someone at first and third. 6 hits into the game for the Royals. Oh. Look at that.

Lackey. I think you need to reread the terms of our Pledge RIGHT NOW.

Ellsbury makes the catch. Lackey, you owe him balloon animals or something. I didn’t call you a clown just now. I called you a finely tuned rubber artist. Who is. Um. Full of hot air.

—-

Bottom of the second. Scutaro leading off. Oh good.

Scut, I thought I told you I needed space. After Monday, I need time to rebuild the trust. You’re smothering me, already. How are we supposed to make this relationship work if you won’t listen to me?

Trust in what we have, Scut. Just trust in what we have and give me time.

Full count. Fulllllll count. A walk. Okay. A walk. Thanks, Scut. I appreciate the gesture.

—–

Darnell McDonald. Another ball. Pitching coach and Pena to the mound to dry Chen’s ‘ittle tears. poor tike. Okay, Chen. You do not blow a bubble with your gum when your boss is talking to you.

—-

Nice. Now we’ve got McD on first and Scut on Second. Nice.

LOVE it.  Navarro. A pop that looked like they could get to it. But it drops about two feet away. Lovely. And We load the bases with no outs. Lackey, you better be cuddling that lucky blanket.

3 balls for Jacoby. With the bases loaded, I’d like to add. BALL FOUR. Walkin’ in the game tying run. You can open your eyes now, Lackey. It’s okay.

Bases STILL loaded. 3-3.

And Dustin Pedroia pops it out. But McD scores for a 4-3 lead.

Okay guys. I don’t want to say what leads me to this conclusion: But that’s not enough! Up your game, guys! Up your game. We’ve got runners on first and third and Gonz at the plate. And Jacoby steals second. That’s steal 29 for those playing at home.

Out, but with room to score in a run. Thanks, Gonz. 5-3.

Still not enough guys! Pump them out.

Youkie at the plate. Caught pop. But that’s okay. Because it’s 5-3. I kind of wish Lackey hadn’t seen that. I kind of wish he thought we were still 3-0. Because now he’s all, “I’ve got a cushion.”

But chairs come with cushions.

That was deep. Think about it. You’ll see. That was so deep.

——

Catch. Catch. Two outs. Top of the third. Nice.

Beltran may be headed to the Giants? Whatever. We didn’t really want you. Your name doesn’t rhyme with anything.

And three. Three outs. Okay, Lackey. Okay.

—–

Ortiz. Strike One. Ortiz. Ball one. Chen, it’s going to be okay. It’s just one game.

Pop catch. David Ortiz looks frustrated. Give that one to Chen, Papi. We don’t want tears on the mound.

Salty pops up. And Another out. One, two three. Just like Lackey. Blah.

—-

Top of the fourth. 1, 2, 3. Yes. Out, out, out. Okay, Lackey. Okay.

—-

McDonald on 2nd. In a neat failed dive catch by the Royals. Neat.

3-6.

Us! Us! Us! And I’m distracted by people. I’m so popular, you know. So popular.

Okay. a REALLY weird out call on a Jacoby steal. We’re at 2 outs. And Youkie-poo is at the plate. Being all Youkilicious with the bat dance. Ground, leftside! Through the glove! Base hit! Bases are loaded.

Loooooaaaaaded.

And three people is an island you don’t want to strand. Right, Papi? Pooooooooor Chen. Bottom of the 4th and they are already warming someone up. Outside pitch. Three more of those is a walk on run, Chen, dear.

No pressure.

Ball THREE. One strike. Ball THREE. Anddddddddddd… In the air, right field… and….. GRANDFRICKINGSLAM.

Replay! Replay!

Oh, pretty. And Lackey grins. You better grin. You better buy David Ortiz an egg roll or something. Because he has saved you.

1,000th CAREER RBI for Papi! A grand slam. I think I just teared up. Remember two years ago when they (you know, they) were allll Papi’s finished? Remember that? And I said to you, Papi… I said, if you can break your crap streak, if you can break it, I will name my puppy after you. I was at Midtown Tavern in Charlotte. With Eric. And when I got home, Elliot’s name was Elliot May Precious Ortiz. Oh… Oh… oh…

I love him so. 10-3 SOX, baby. Salty’s out. But no one noticed. They are too busy grinning at our Papi.

—-

I’m walking Ortiz’ name puppy while I’m on a high. Don’t let Lackey ruin it while I’m gone.

Okay. I was gone six minutes. SIX minutes. And is 10 to 4. And one person is on second. I knew this would happen. Lackey makes a 7 point lead look iffy.

And he walks someone on first. Awesome.

90th pitch for Lackey. Is a ball. Of course it is. Curt Young, you watching this? Lackey, if you blow this lead, I swear to Fisk I will…

I haven’t broken the pledge yet. No. I haven’t. Damnit.

To left field. And a base hit.

AND the bases are loaded. ARE YOU WATCHING THIS, CURT YOUNG?

Okay, Lackey. Okay. You are trying my patience and my keyboard. You let ONE of those batters hit home and we are done. Do you hear me? DONE. The pledge will be null and void and I will mock you like you have never been mocked before. MOCKERY. Randy Williams is warming up. Of course. The one that cost us the fifty bazillion inning game the other day. Yes, that seems smart.

Chris Getz at the plate. If he gets a grand slam, our 10-3, I’m sorry, 10-FOUR lead will be 10-8. 10-8! Do. NOT. Let. That. Happen.

And it’s the fricking ROYALS, Lackey. Seriously. The ROYALS. They are from Kansas. KANSAS. And I know a lot about Kansas. I’ve watched Wizard of Oz. So I know there’s wheat there. And no color. Oh, and people that hate dogs. Does that sound like a team YOU want to lose to, Lackey?

And Salty makes the catch… saving your ASS, Lackey. We’re cool. Really we are. But I do NOT want to see you in the 5th inning. Hear that, Curt?

Jeb, dear. Which Wich is a smarmy new sandwich place where that healthy grocery store used to be near Boone Mall? Winkler’s Creek, maybe. But apparently Cano and Jeter eat there. That’s what the wall says.

Marco Scutaro. We’re on better terms now that I have another focus for my negative energy (LACKEY). Well, we were on better terms before you just got that out.

Darnell McDonald.

Okay. You know what? I thought I could do it. I did. I thought I could be mature about this and look at the score numbers and…

No.

I’m okay.

Oh, look. Heidi Watney. Talking to Jed Lowrie.

“I continue to push it every day. If I didn’t get that feeling I would think I didn’t get enough work in that day.”

Oh, Jed. You DL addict.

—-

That’s it. I can’t hold this inside of me anymore. I feel like the Hulk. I feel like James Dean in Rebel without a Cause.

YOU’RE TEARING ME APART.

It’s YOU. YOU, John Lackey. I take it back. I rip the pledge up. I am ripping… the pledge up… and now I have a paper cut. I have a PAPER CUT. THIS IS YOUR FAULT. YOUR Fault. YOUR FAULT you Napolen Dynamite-esque jaw of inappropriate proportions. You sullen-faced attitude crapping, base loading excuse for mediocrity. I can NOT believe I ever-

Out number one?

What? You’re. Um. Not sucking?

Wait a mite… maybe…. could it be… could my public ridicule be… no…

Pop out. Two outs.

Could it be helping you? Every time I call you a name, like a wormy-slackfaced excuse for a Bond villain… you do… well?

Base hit. Well, blows that theory.

You’re just slime.

—-

I would like to give Lackey to the Pirates. Here. Take him. He will be your booty. FDA, I’m going to need some help. His ego’s so huge.. I just… can’t… lift… him…

—-

Jup! It’s so good to see you, Jup. Did you see that? Did you see what that sloth almost did to our 7 point lead? Did you?

—–

Seriously. That fifth inning… by the grace of god and…

BASE HIT? Frick on a frick stick. One on first and third. I’m typing that out in case you can’t see that from your vantage point, Curt Young.

YESSSSSS Tito going to the mound. YESSSSSSS. Send that sloth to Pittsburgh! The dugout will do for now.

——

OhnoRandyWilliams. Ohno. Monday. No. We must not think of Monday. It’s a new day. A new day. With liquor. And cookies. Crap. I’m out of cookies. Have you ever had Paul Newman-Os? No? They’re Newmanneriffic. Randy Williams, I wish you were Daniel Bard.

Ends the inning. Pedroia does. Yes he does. Why do we call him the muddy chicken? I never figured that one out.

—-

Jacoby Ellsbury. Double off the fricking wall. 10 to fricking 4. To fricking four. With Jacoby on second. Which means Jacoby will soon be on third. Which means… we’ve got this, Soxies.

Of course, that means Lackey’s also “got this.”

I can see it now. Can’t you?

Smug chin. Shrugs it off. Saying, see how bad ass we were tonight? We. WE.

Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn. You still make my neck knot.

And base hit! base hit!

The Offense.The Offense. The Offense’s on fire. And we don’t need no water let the motherf…

Right. Blogging. Baseball. Tequilla. Shot thirty. Excuse me.

—–

David Ortiz! Stop spitting! America is watching.

Gonz! Base hit! Score! Score! Jacoby! Run, Jacoby! Score. You do! You do! 11-4. 11-4!!!!!!!!! Zero outs. First and second. Zero outs! And… from the mist… baseball dirt, rising like fog from a mountain… steps the mighty… the fearless… the furious… the sexy… KEVIN YOUKILIS! And the crowd moans Yoooooouuuuukkkkk and it sounds like booing. But it’s not booing. It’s Yoooouuuuukkkkkiiinnnngggg. And he shrugs it off, like a noble warrior. Like a noble viking warrior. Like um…  viking. Some of them were noble. They had Cool helmets sometimes.

Oh. Fail. Double play. Fail. Oh.

And. Like a noble warrior. He collapses. Gracefully. In the depths of the….

Damn it, Youk. Damn.

First base. You are on first base. And that is enough for me. You are enough for me. Hold me close and don’t let me go. Shot thirty again. Hi, Papi.

Inning ends. But that’s okay. Because we got to see another replay of your grand slam.

—-

Okay. Observations. This is the Royals. This is not the Yankees. This is not Cleveland. This is Kansas Fricking City. This is Chen. Easy trumped by power bats. What if this was the Yankees? What if this was some badass like Cliff Lee? And Lackey pulled this shit? What if, instead of catching that ball when Lackey loaded up the bases, Salty dropped it? An ordinary error? What if-what if-what if? And, see, soon, we won’t be playing piddly teams like the Brewers and the Royals and the god awful Orioles. Soon, we’ll be playing actual teams. We’ll be playing October teams. And I don’t want to see what Lackey will do.

—–

How many others must the paper cut?!

It’s like politics. And the economy. And the stock market. It’s all like that.

That’s called a stretched metaphor, for those of you playing at home.

—–

Dan Wheeler. Warming up. Good. See, I’d rather see you than Mr. Let’s-allow-the-doubles. That’s your name, Williams.

Top of the 7th. Monday on my mind. Wincing as he hurls the rocks. Strike one. But it’s three and one, see. Three and fricking one. Is it just me, or did they get louder?

Ball four. Moustakas. REALLY. Of course. Seeing this, Curt, baby? Watching this?

I get it. Put the annoyingly frustrating players out this game so you can save people like Bard and the Beckster for Soxtober. Nice strategy. Stressful, but nice strategy.

Brayan Pena. NOBODY OUT. Until now. When Pedroia catches you, Pena. But runners on first and second.

—-

McD makes the catch. Second out. Randy Williams, you need to get better. Just saying.

—-

Alcides Escobar. I want to date someone with your name so I can say it quickly. But I do not want to date you. Because your team is annoying me. But you do have a lot of money. So there’s that. Okay. I’d go out with you if you asked nicely, bought me things and didn’t tell Youkilis.

In the air to left field… McD catches … and you are out. Call me!

—–

Okay. I feel so much better. After another John Lackey, the drink…

Salty. Hi.

I miss Reddick. Who, according to THIS article, saved us much cash today.

BASE HIT, SALTY! Loverly. Just like the song form My Fair Lady.

All I want is a win today.

It’s not enough, just to play.

With your enormous name…

Oh thank you… Saltalamacchia…

It’s to the tune of “Loverly,” if you’re playing at home. I’m very talented.

Popped up. Whatev.

Oh, Heidi Watney.

“there was a controversial end to the Braves-Pirates game… he was clearly out….”

Oh, that’s you, Jeb!

Apparently, it’s sparking talk of instant replay… And she asks Ortiz.

“You know already post season because of tv and everything they’re already too long… so just make the effort and try to stay on top of the game… You don’t say that many plays like the play last night between the Braves and Pirates… he’s a human being,” Ortiz said of the ump.

See, Jeb? He’s a HUMAN BEING. Treat him with dignity! And hugs! After all, it’s only baseball Jeb. It’s just a game… and I’m sure he’s very sorry.

:)

Terry Francona has an idea to have a fifth umpire in a booth up top.

“And you rotate them like you rotate guys in the field,” announcer said.

Navarro strikes out. But that’s okay. Because it’s still 11-4.

—-

Top of the 8th. And Randy Williams back on the mound. I see Curt’s point. Curt’s like, ‘why not?’ Let the pup have his day.

In the air… Ellsbury can’t make the catch. A long double. Third double of the night. They’ll call him the Doubler, they will. And our eyes will roll. Poor little kid at the wall. He really thought he had that. The kid, not Jacoby. I think Jacoby figured it out.

FDA is going to be at the game tomorrow. She promised to stalk Kevin Youkilis for me. I mean us. I hope that means acting as my go-between for the great love affair we will soon start.

Tito comes out. And Wheeler has a turn. Sit down, Williams.

———

Royal Reunion is a movie that MLB.TV has decided to preview. Hah. They also had a Royal Caribbean commercial. Noticing a pattern?

One out. 8th inning. Dan Wheeler.

I hope to see a lot of players I’ve never heard of at the bottom of the 8th. That always makes me feel better.

So, Soxies. How are you? You good? Thought I should check in. 11-4ness gives me some time to check in on YOUR needs.

Wheeler strikes out. B2B strike outs. It’s like he read the wikipedia article on how to pitch or something. Could you print that out and post it in the bullpen?

—-

Two outs. Two outs. Two outs. I can chant here too, guys.

Damnit. The throw gets away. Run is in. 11-5.

Damnit.

This is your fault too, Lackey.

—-

You know what? You don’t like it, e-mail me, ohnolauren@gmail.com.

—-

Felipe Paulino warming in the pen for KC. Jeff Francoeur. Whose name I love. But whose bat gives me hives…

Sexy catch. OUTTTTTT.

—-

Bottom of the 8.

Okay. You know what? We’re winning. Right? Right.

I should stop bashing Lackey. I should save it for the losses, right?

The losses we will inevitably have if we don’t figure out the Lackey situation…

Am I too harsh? I’m too harsh.

Okay. I’ll see what I can do about that pledge. but I really ripped it up. Maybe some scotch tape? And another shot. That will fixxxxx everrrrrryyyythinggg….

Yesss! Error throw gets Jacoby (our MVP candidate, I say) on first.

11th straight Sox game, btw, with at least 10 hits. Neato.

Hi, Pedroia. On the ground right side, throws out Pedroia. One out. Ellsbury takes third. A-Gonz who, shockingly, seems to be hitting the LEAST right now, takes the plate.

He’s 2 for 4 tonight with singles. Crazy close foul right now. If only this were horseshoes.

I like having Jacoby on third. Reminds of that Pettitte game. Ahhhhh memories. That’s a song from Cats. Memories….

In the air to left… back… OFF THE TOP OF THE WALL! Ellsbury scores. Gonz is out at second? Really? 12-5.

“This had to miss being a homerun by inches,” Remy said.

If only this were horseshoes, I say again. The game, not the crabs.

12-5… 10″08 p.m. Line drive down the right field line… foul.

Swing and a miss for Reddick. Strikes out.

Headin’ to the 9th. Feelin’ groovy.

—-

Just read your comment. Don’t you worry about it Jeb. Lackey’s free. We don’t need anything from you. He’s going to be part of a surprise fruit basket, tucked between the cantaloupes. And we’re going to be out of there so quickly you won’t even be able to find the WSJ article. Your mouth will be full of grapes and then you’ll see Lackey, and you’ll be like, “oh shit,” but you won’t be able to say anything, it will come out like, “ohmfffft” because your mouth will be full of grapes. They’ll be really good grapes, though.

——-

Two outs. Back to back in the 9th. This game’s MVP is going to be a toss up between Jacoby and David Ortiz. Oh, and Lackey. Wait. That was a joke.

—-

I love this part. Where people stand and rally the win.

Well, not this part, where the ball goes into the dirt.

Come on, Wheeler. Can you hear my stomping from Boston? I bet my new neighbors can hear my stomping.

Base hit. Yeah. That’s not what the stomping was for. Let’s try that again. Strike one. Outside. One and one.

The last batter always takes the longest.

Come on, Wheeler! Come on!!!!!!!!!

On the ground. Thrown out to first! What? Safe? What? Fricktastic. Frick-frick-frick-frick-fricking-frick. Crap. Okay. That looked fair to me. Fair. Whatever. First and second runners.

This is wayyyyy too complicated for a 7 run lead.

Just go quietly.

It’s like the last scene in a movie where the villain (that’s us) tells the victim (always a girl) that it’s over. No one can hear your scream, little girl. So why fight it? I’ll make your death quick.

Of course, we’re not villains. So we’re not actually going to kill you by tying you to some train tracks. We shall show mercy and beat you at baseball.

Swing and a miss…. two and two. Gordon. The baseball player. Not the fisherman. Fenway rises to its feet. Love. It. North Carolina’s Fenway (in my townhouse) is doing the same thing. Except for the puppy. She isn’t sure what to do. She looks very confused.

Popped up. Foul ground… Navarro …. overruns the fricking ball.

For frick’s sake, people.

10:19.

—–

STRIKE OUT. 10:20.

And the Red Sox win.

That was way too complicated.

John Lackey, You did NOT do this.

Did you see how close Heidi Watney just got to David Ortiz? Why can’t I have her job? Can you make that happen? I used to be on television, after all. And being a news anchor is just like being Heidi Watney. Except I would get to stand more often. I would totally come out of television retirement for her job. I am going to sleep.

Thoughts? Have we been too hasty writing off Lackey? Do you think he did a good job? Do you think he will do a good job? Do you feel sorry for the Pirates, or are you just bemused? Oh, and are Newman-Os better than Oreos? These questions and more can be answered in the comments section. I look forward to reading what you have to say.

~L

An until-I-go-to-sleep Live Blogging experiment. Is it really Monday?

July 25, 2011 3 comments

Just got off work. Turn on browser just in time to see Scutaro kamakazi catch that. Sweetness. Like the ice cream I am going to indulge in. A treat after a long day. Is it really almost 10 p.m.? 9:58? I need a weekend already. Is it really only Monday?

So. The big news of the day. Of the week. Of the month. Of our LIFETIME. He’s BACK.

That’s right. The Lesternator. And this time, he’s going for blood. Now in High Definition. Prepare to be:

LESTERNATED.

Okay. So. Jon Lester. 0-0. Top of the second. Wait. Why do they have two on base? Why do they have two on base, Jon? 2 outs.

Okay. I get it. You were waiting for me. You didn’t want to start being a badass until I got here. Okay. Well, I’m here now, Jonny. You can stop scaring the good people of Boston. Thanks.

And an out.

Now that my new internet is working, I certainly am blogging a lot. You know what? Today brought my 900th comment. That was kind of neat. For comment 1,000 I should do something. I will. Um. Draw you a picture.

A walk to first by Ortiz and more annoying prattle by Jerry Remy. I am not going to be able to handle this whole game, am I?

—-

I really like Crawford. I really do. I like base stealers. He’s fun to watch. He breaks up the monotony of long games. And Reddick… a double as Crawford scores! 1-0. Nice.

Yes, Crawford. We will be friends. I will make you a friendship bracelet.

—-

May 19, 2008. Lester’s no hitter against the Royals. I remember that. That was the day I bought my car, Sweet Caroline. We watched the game at a Ham’s Restaurant near the car dealership. The food was terrible and the potatoes were cold. But Jonny, you were red hot.

—-

Now they’re talking about whether you can wear Royals gear at Fenway and not get mauled. I read a blog the other day saying that Sox fans throw nachos at people wearing other jerseys. Anyone ever experience this?

I bet if someone threw nachos at you, you did something to deserve it. Unless you were wearing a Joba jersey. That in itself is deserving of a major cheesing. You don’t have to do anything.

And now they are showing clips of Jonathan Papelbon throwing tomatoes.

Really, guys?

I don’t know. What are you thinking about Lester? I know they’re scoreless (so far) and he’s striking three of them out- but he just doesn’t seem to have his usual Lester snap. Am I just being paranoid? Evidently, because, as a speak, a cutter strikes out another Royal. And another strike out. Well, I feel better.

—-

Bottom of the third. 0-1. Jeb, the Pirate Princess, sent me a fantastic link that you should check out right now:

The Boston Red Sox have shaken off a woeful start to the season to take pole position in the American League and a near lock on a playoff spot. Unlike other recent great Red Sox teams, this year’s Boston club is doing it almost entirely with hitting.

~The Wall Street Journal

I think the current rate paid per win is approximately $4 million, so to have four different position players giving you over $16 million each of production at this point is pretty damn good.

~Jeb

For those of you who do not know Jeb, he is a kindred spirit. Just misled. He, like me, is stranded in North Carolina. Unlike me, he is Pirates fan. But in Boone, NC, you take what you can get.

And Pedroia extends his hit-streak to 22!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Can someone explain this Muddy Chicken thing to me?

—-

Another message from Jeb:

“You’ll love/hate this. John Lackey’s total WAR is currently -1.1. I think replacement-level is an average AAA player. So if you had started the season with an average AAA pitcher in Lackey’s place, you’d be 63-36 instead of 62-37. Poor John Lackey :(“

I will not love this. Not. Not. Not. Blah.

John Lackey.

We can’t think of John Lackey today, Jeb. Jon Lester is back. And he must consume all of our brain cells. All of them, I say!

I do not like how we’re loading the bases up. First. Second. I do not like this one bit. One out. Okay. I’d like to see a Sox offensive pop here in a sec. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.

Salty makes a catch. Salty is looking kind of hot today. Does his hair always look like that?

Two outs.

Jonny, you’re freaking me out with the first and second. Let’s not do this again, okay? Brayan Pena. And Youk throws it to first and ends the inning. Okay. It’s 5 hits to our 2. Let’s put some snap in our step.

—-

Bottom of the fourth inning, Youkie at the plate. Do you think he gets his beard professionally trimmed each day? Because his cheeks have been looking smooth lately.

First out. Oh, the pivot turn. He looks dejected. It’s okay, baby. I’m still here. I’ll always be here.

David Ortiz. Over the shift and into right field for a base hit. 4-game hitting streak.

Carl Crawford. My new best friend. He looks like he’d be a great best friend. Oh, the happy times we could have together. Like at the zoo. And the park and stuff. I could swing. And you could push the swing. Because, if you can wield a bat like that, you can totally push a swing. We could tell secrets and swap stories and roast marshmallows and have great adventures.

I am going to make a children’s book about us.

I am going to call it “Carl Crawford and me.”

Ohhhhhhh. David Ortiz out on a steal. Papi!

—-

Alcides Escobar. What a great name. I want to date someone with your name. But not you. Because you are a Royal. And just took a walk. No me for you.

Poooooooor Mariners. Swamped by the Stanks. I was really rooting for them. And not just because it’s the Yankees. Because I know how it feels when you just can’t get a break.

This is for you.

1-0, Boston. One on first. One out. Bottom of the 5th. Picked off… Gonz fires to second! Out! Out! Out! A fun moment in the midst of kind of a boring game…Or maybe I’m just tired from my fourteen hour work day…

And… strike out to end the inning.

—-

Salty’s on base. Salty has been on FIRE. Remember when those crazy bloggers (um, um…) kept saying he should go? Remember that? I am simply shocked and… um… appalled…

Okay. So I’m eating my words.

At least I know what to flavor them with.

Scutttttt. I always liked you better than Lowrie.

Full count. You can walk there. I don’t care how you get there. Just get there if you can. That’s a song.

See?

NICE. That’s exactly how I wanted to get you there. Single. Nice.

Salty takes third. Jacoby is out. But Salty took third.

First and third with two outs. Let’s see some offense dazzle. Or fine. Just strand yourselves and end the inning. Sure. Okay. WHATEVER, RED SOX.

—-

I am concerned about post-DL Lester going 77 pitches. I am concerned. Full count.

Curt Young. Are you watching this?

80 pitches.

Through the left side. Base hit. Single.

Jon Lester. You know I love you. But 81 pitches might be enough. We need you, see. In October.

Billy Butler. 82 pitches. Billy Butler looks like a guy from our pressroom. Into the corner. And you let them score. It’s not your fault, Jon Lester. I blame YOU Curt Young. Look at you. Not making eye contact. Looking into your clipboard. I called this like a hundred words ago.

Tie game. CURT YOUNG.

—-

“I wouldn’t be surprised to see this is the last hitter for Lester,” Remy says.

I would. Curt Young NEVER listens to me.

—-

88 pitches. BALL FOUR. DID YOU SEE THAT?

Tito is heading to the mound.

Poor Lester. He looks frustrated. It’s not your fault, Lester. I love you anyway.

Curt, I will deal with you later.

—-

Do you know what I like about Lester? He’s in the dugout with death eyes right now. Mad. You can see the anger. See, John Lackey how he gives a shit? Remember all those times when you sucked it up- a LOT worse than Lester, I might add- and do that shrug walk-off thing that irritates me to no end?

—-

Albers strikes ‘em out. Nice.

Lester, I wish I could give you a hug. It’s going to be okay. I promise.

Ground ball up the middle. Pedroia tags. Out.

Bottom of the 6th. And I am fading fast…

Another night asleep at the keyboard. At least this time it’s baseball and not city council… ah… the life of a reporter.

Hi, Gonz. Could you slam one out of the park? I bet that would make Lester smile. Or just strike out. Sure. Okay. <- Sarcasm.

Hi, Youkie.

He got something in his eye. Poor dear. Okay. Now we’re ready to rumble, he says.

Yikes. That one was straight for him. He’s getting good at ducking those.

Ground. Up the middle. Out. Close. I’d like to see a replay, please. Youk made it back to that dugout in about two seconds. Yikes. Did you see that lunge? It looked painful. Youkie, stop hurting yourself! And Ortiz thrown out.

Well. That sucked.

1-1 game in the 7th. And I’m droopy. I may not make into the 8th. God forbid this go extra innings.

Seats are emptying out. That’s what happens when it’s this late on a Monday.

Pena out. Thanks to a snazzy throw by Pedroia.

This game is hurting my brain.

Full count. Close up of Tito sweat. Thanks, cameras.

Crawford makes the catch. Because he’s my best friend.

And there are two outs.

STRIKE THREE. Out. Despite a dramatic jump-away by a faker. Good job, Albers.

See, Lester? I told you there was nothing to worry about. It’s alllll going to be okay.

Oh. Right. It’s still tied…

—-

Tim Collins. Pitching at my BEST FRIEND. Hi, Carl. What is with Collins’ hair? It’s like a back mullet. It’s a new invention, clearly.

First out. It’s okay, Crawford. Let’s meet up for hopscotch later.

Hi, Josh Reddick. You are not having a good hair day either. Just saying. If I can’t tell you tehse things, Josh, who can?

In the air… Caught. Out.

This inning blows.

I could be watching “The Tudors” or “Wings” on Netflix. Or. Um. Sleeping.

Salty’s up. Bottom of the 7th. Two outs. Keep hope alive, Salty. Keep hope alive.

Speaking of hope, Daniel Bard is warming up in the pen.

Who is umping? Do you know? Because he’s obnoxious.

Grounder to third…. and out.

That inning was worse than Tim Collins’ hair.

Pedroia fires to first for the out. And they replayed Youk’s bag slam. I knew he was hurt! I knew it! If he’s really hurt, I’m driving to Kansas. I will!

Scut dives on his face.

Single.

Jeb’s still awake. He’s watching the Pirates, as indicated by our recent Facebook convo:

WHATEVER, JEB

Ahhhh…. Facebook.

Two outs. Billy Butler sits down.

They called a balk on Bard. A bullshit balk. I don’t understand. The announcer doesn’t seem to understand. No one seems to understand. Except the pricky umpire.

2 outs. 1-1. One on second. Just so you feel my pain. Because this is painful.

Strike two.

Come. On.

Throw to first. OUT.

Bottom of the 8th. Paaaaaiiiiinnnnnnfullllll.

—-

Marco Scutaro. Up against Aaron Crow.

And the crazy Fenway yelling commences.

Pena makes a foul catch. Blah.

Out one.

I love looking at fans’ faces when the ball flies.

Jacoby. 0 for 3 tonight. So this is his moment. Right? Right?

Papelbon is warming up in the pen.

Ellsbury! Base hit! Single! 7 game hitting streak for Jacoby.

Ohmygod there is a bug on my computer screen. Ohmygod.

Eeek. Now it is on my bed. And the lights are out and…

—-

It’s okay. I’m okay.

A double play. Which is horrible, because it pushes us into the 9th. But the real horrible thing is, there is a bug in my room. And it is dark. And I’m sure it’s on me. And I can do nothing.

It’s probably like some rare African bug that will burrow into my shoulder while I’m sleeping. Ohgod.

—-

And… Johnny Paps…

—–

—-

Catch. Out one. Out 2.

—-

I am so upset. “After hobbling around, Youkilis leaving the game.”

I am so upset.

He better be okay.

Strike out.

Bottom of the 9th.

Okay guys. Get serious. I am only half awake. I can’t do a 10th. So score for me, okay? And for Youkilis. Who had better not be broken.

Alright, Gonz. You have done NOTHING today. It is time.

We need to get the spark back. There is NO SPARK.

The K-Guys are holding the A-Gonz sign. That’s for YOU, A-Gonz. YOU.

And Gonzalez strikes out. An 0 for 4 night. Really.

Yamaico Navarro taking one for the Youk. With a base hit! Youkie is welling up with pride and-

OHMYGOD THE BUG. I will get you this time, bug. I see you and… OHMYGOD IT FLIES.

It’s like an ant. But with wings. It’s an ant thing. It’s like the Pegasus of ants!

OHMYGOD. It’s alive.

Speaking of holy terrors, David Ortiz staring down Crow.

And I could watch that if I didn’t suddenly feel ants all over me.

Paranoia. Delusion. It was just one ant thing.

Just one, after all. You’re fine.

It was like a dragon ant.

Ortiz hits it on the ground- it gets through! Navarro on third! Ortiz first! Somehow that ball got through. Looked routine. Went through second baseman. Went through shortstop. Gave us sweet, sweet hope.

Hi, best friend Carl Crawford.

—–

This is so stressful. Please. Please. Please, Crawford. Please.

That strike was crap. The announcer agrees with me. He did not swing.

Out.

On crap.

Reddick.

2 outs. High fly ball… Catch. DAMNIT.

Damnit, damnit, damnit.

Extra innings. Damnit.

That check swing call was crap. I blame the ump.

Morales. And I am asleep. Please don’t let him screw it up… Going to sleep.

Damnit. We all know I’m lying. Come on, Morales. Get this DONE.

Josh Reddick. I love you. There have been some great dive catches tonight, no?

That was hot. No wonder my mother wants me to marry you, Josh.

Out one. And a pop out to Pedroia means out TWO. Okay. Alex Gordon. You are going to be out three. Right, Morales?

Pedroia. First. Out.

Hah.

One to one.

Damn.

Come on, offense. Now is your chance to help me sleep. DO THIS. This is painful.

—-

This is the song in my head right now. I do not know why.

Better than Jar of Hearts, at least… And I think it expresses my feelings about this game quite eloquently. I saw Joan Osborne sing this at MerleFest a few months ago.

OHCOMEONSCORENOW.

—-

Damnit, Salty! I specifically told you to score.

One out.

Fly ball. Caught. Scutaro, you are a jerk. Two outs.

Jacoby. You have grounded out, struck out, flown out and singled and OHMYGODTHEFLYINGANTISBACK.

It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m okay…

OHNOIT’SBACKAGAIN.

What if there’s more than one?!?!

—–

Ground chop to first.

Are we even trying???

11th.

Navarro!!!! Youk would have caught that. Cabrera singled. Damnit. And there’s a dragon ant trying to eat me. But other than that, I’m fiiiiiiiine. Crawford catches. First out. Two more. And please let that be it.

Eric Hosmer. You look familiar.

Throw to first! What?! That was out. That was completely OUT.

“That really was borderline,” Remy said.

That really was out. These calls are crap tonight.

Crap.

I do not know who is umping, but I would not be surprised if it was Angel Hernandez.

Crawford makes another catch. Two outs. Because he is my best friend.

Terry comes out. Dan Wheeler to come out.

Hi, Dan.

Please do not mess up. Thanks.

One on first. Two outs.

And his first pitch… a ball. Of course.

I get that you guys love baseball. That’s great. But please do not love 12 innings worth of baseball. Hear me, Sox offense?

Strike. Nice. Do that.

Do that again. Foul. Okay. Whatever.

YES. Cabrera does something stupid, runs and is tagged the frick out at the base.

Thank you.

Now it is up to you, Offense. Up to you. Do it. Do it NOW.

Adrian. The shouts make me think I’m watching Rocky.

Gonz to left field… OFF THE WALL.

Thank you. Thank you for doing something, Gonz.

A single. One out. And Gonz on first. Okay. Gonz. You have to score. I’m not kidding. You have to. HAVE to.

Okay, Navarro. Don’t be a hero. Just get on a base. ANY BASE.

NO.

Strikes out. Two down.

DAMNIT.

Youk would have had that. I’m just saying. It is one in the morning. SOME of us have to work.

David Ortiz. Okay. Papi. Okay. Let’s do this. And by “let’s,” I mean you, Papi.

Closeup on Jacoby and Beckett in the dugout. Jacoby is drinking a red drink. Suddenly I am thirsty.

—-

Come on, David Ortiz.

Bounce. Kicks. Gonz scampers to second! Yes! Yes! Do that.

Now Gonz is on second.

And they’re going to walk Papi.

There are boos in Fenway, but I am okay with this.

He is on a base. That is all that matters. He is not out.

First. Second.

Crawford up. My best friend.

Come on Crawford. Buddy.

ANOTHER bad strike call.

“Crawford’s about had it… that pitch being called a strike.”

When Remy knows the umpire sucks, the umpire SUCKS.

Stressssssful.

Strike. Two and two. Okay. He looks apprehensive. Don’t be apprehensive, Crawford. Please? Breathe, baby. Breathe. Ball three.

Full fricking count.

Come on.

Please.

Come on.

afdsjkkkkkkkkklnokdnjdfkdfjkldfsjkl

That was my head hitting the keyboard. Let me demonstrate again.

afdljklkjfadjkdfaaereiorf;j

Strike.

Out.

DAMNIT.

12. DAMNIT.

I can’t do this guys. I have to sleep. Have to.

fadslkjljkdfsfljkfdljkdfjklsfdsjkls

Damnit.

I am sad. Randy Williams warming in then pen.

I am so tired. So tired. Soooooooo

Walk. Guy on first. Thanks, Wheeler.

I blame the umpire, actually. The umpire that HATES my new best friend, Carl Crawford.

Sacrifice. And the runner is on second. One out. Damnitdamnitdamnit.

Brayan Pena.

Damnit.

Only one out.

Damnit.

I can’t type unless something monumental happens.

—-

strike out. good. 2 outs. throw to first. out. bottom of 12. please score please.

—-

Okay. Let’s do this. And by do this. I mean score. Hi, Josh Reddick. Just get on a base. If four of you get on a base, that is all it will take.

Do it for your fallen comrade. Speaking of fallen comrades, I would like an update on my husband, please.

The announcers want this to end too.

“Put it right where you want it, Josh,” Remy said.

I would like it over the green monster. Thanks.

Reddick… base hit!!!!

“Thatta baby,” Remy keeps saying.

Single.

Three more and we’ve got a ballgame.

Salty.

one for four. single. Okay. let’s. please.

Youkie is watching. I know he is. He should be asleep. But he’s not.

I should be asleep. But I’m not.

Salty. Scutaro is after you. But let’s not need him. Let’s just use you, Salty. And your bat. In the air. Left field. Catch. FAIL.

Marco. Hi. Can you hit something? A triple would be nice.

YEESSSSSS. Ball gets away and Reddick stops at THIRD!

One out and we are at THIRD. Yes. Yessssss. Yes. Okay. Scut. Do not mess this up. Do not.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Reddick is out. He was trapped. Squeeze play. Damn it. Scutaro missed the sign. Scut missed the sign, Remy said. Damnit, Scut. DAMNIT.

If this goes to 13, so help me…

Homerun or you are NOT going back to the dugout.

Base hit. And Scutaro is OUT AT SECOND BASE.

Scutaro. Scutaro. Scutaro. SCUTARO

facebook is evil. This game is evil. And Jeb, you are evil.
And Scutaro… I’ll deal with you tomorrow. I can’t even look at you.
TWO ON BASE????
Damnit. I have flying ants to deal with. I can’t do this on a Monday. Um. Tuesday. Um.
No sense. No sense do I make. Ground. Out.
Bottom of 13th. I cannnnnnnnnn’t do this. This is the longest rambliestnosensishmaking post in all the land and it is your fault, marco scutaro yourfault that i do not make sense because i am so tireddd…
and you, jeb. you. you facebook distracter. with your facebook and your distracting.
and you, bed. for not being comfortable enough.
and you, crazy flying demon gremlin ants. for making me afraid to sleep.
and you, scutaro.
you.
i hate you.
like hate.
John Lackey might pitch? John Lackey might pitch? We are destroyed.
Strike one Jacoby.
“Come on Jake, get on the base any way you can, kid,” Remy said.
I said that. I did.
like paragraphs ago.
it is 1:33. we are unhappy all we are.
Tito. Fix it. Fix it marvelously. two and two. that’s the balls and the strikes. That we don’t hit. But we will hit them soon. Foul. hurts ellsbury. hurts. hit him in shin. ouch it was. ouch. shutup remy and let us concentrate with the winning.
it is starting to rain in fenway. rainnnnnnnn.
maybe there will be another rain delay and i can sleep and then i could wake up and watch the rest while i get ready for work.
lackey is making his way to the pen. ohnos.
rain. ellsbury ball four. lead runner on. maybe three more will walk. and then we will win. for america. dustin pedroia. he is one for five tonight. sleep. dustin pedroia. do this. strike one. no. that is not this. a hit is this. Now Aceves is banging on things in the dugout. grounds foul into royals dugout. do that into the green monster, dustin, please. right field. caught. out. damn. gonzalez. please do. hit. it. to right field and it went off glove!!!! ellsbury to third!!!!!!!!!!! agonz is the hero! second hit. winning run at third? please. only one out. gonz at first. ells at third. jacoby is fast, he is. yes. pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease with the home. and the score. Navarro. You could win it all. You can buy our love. But you will never start at third. That is for Youkilis. chanting. let’s go red sox. chanting. ohnostress. come on. please. please. please. please. navarro. please. so long. 1:40. pops up. foul ground caught. damn. out. two outs. navarro. go sit with scut. go. ortiz. ortiz up. will they pitch? they should pitch. yes. they should. i don’t care. as long as we get to a base and not out. i do not care. papi. ortiz to second. out? out? out? no. no. out.
14. why?sleep. must gotosleep. nomore. no. more.
ohno. ohno. 14 is upon us. and randy williams is here. for 14. john lackey is in the pen. not warming up. But certainly looking at things. i am looking at things too and just as useful. eric hosmer. bah. i do not know you but we will never be friends. damn. fair ball. he gets to second. whyareyoudoingthistous? ohno. if you were going to lose, couldn’t you lose in a timely fashion? that is what the polite team would do, tito.  francoer.  another base hit. stop runner at third. stop him. yes. damn. first and third. nobody out. randy i will remember this. ohno. this will not be the end. no. switchemup. find a new pitcher. and check on youkilis. do we hae any more pitchers? make one. because this guy is a saboteur. afsjklaadfjkldfjklsadjkldfsajlkdfajlskdjafljkdfasljkdfsljkadfljkdflajkdfadfjklafjkls no.
no.
score. they lead us. they lead us alllll
ladfjkljdkfljadkdajkf
nooooooooo
whyareyoudoingthisrandy?isthisonpurpose?
afjlfadjkaljkflkjgjjlgk
ajkl
kf
k
blah. it is just a game. a game it is. no. another base hit. another base hit. because we can’t catch. scut, i know that was you. first and third. and failure for scut. and it is two to one, kansas. and we are angry, yes we are. but not angry enough, apparently. curt is talking to randy. and doing a jog. but not pulling him. pull him. no one cares about his feelings. i don’t care about his feelings. take him out. i am a hater of this.
1:50. that is in the am. and randy is still thinking he can pitchbuthecannot. alas. for the fails. ohno. yes boo them. boo them all. this is a terribleterriblenogoodickysmelly game. catch it, ellsbury. he does. no. 3-1. because of the fails. we’ve got a cruel case of the fails. we caught it from scutaro. no. out ends inning. but it is failed. three to one. and it is 14 and two in the morningandmakingnosense and with the publicness of the making the no of sense. it is scutaro’s fail to blame. scutaro. i am to sleep now.
Strike one to Crawford. Of course. Because he does not want to be my friend. My great love is not to be reciprocated. Strikes out. Of course he does. Of course. We were going to share secrets and stuff. But whatever. Scutaro. Josh Reddick. Hi. Could you score a homerun? Thank you.
How about just getting on a base. And staying there this time. No matter what Scut does. I liked Scut better than Lowrie. Remember that?
It’s a lot like Hamlet, this game.
Double for Reddick.
But they all die at the end of Hamlet anyway. Even when they score.
Tired. onefiftyseven is the time. Jarrod Saltalamacchiariffic is at the plate. Could you get a homerun? Thanks. I don’t care anymore. Yes I do. No I don’t. Failure. foul. bouncy foul.
the red sox are taking a bazillion hours of my life and adding a bazillion wrinkles to my eyes. strike out.
of course.
scutaro. damn it. i don’t want to see you.
i will close my eyes like this. you can’t see me but my eyes are closed. because i don’t want to see you, marco scutaro. one and one. redemption is a homerunandthatisit. two outs. scutaro. and a homerun might not be redemption because that would mean inning 15. strike three call. you strike out. and we lose in 14. and i am angry with you forever. willnotforgetthisday. hate.afdljkadfjksjlkdfajkadfs
sleep.
donotjudgemeforthisrant
thefails they hurt mybrain
scutarokajfffffffj
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