An ode to Timmy: Timmy Wakefield

Tim Wakefield, aka Father Time- as the media would have you believe, wants another year. See, Wake’s the definition of a utility player- the first to raise his hand and literally the last to leave the bullpen. He’s like our “Wonder Years” dad. You know. But happier and slightly less curmudgeonly. There with supportive words of wisdom and the occasional scowling wisecrack. Working quietly in the background. But highlighted in select episodes so that we’ll be guilted into telling our own fathers “thank you?” But, you know, not always integral to the front-and-center Fred Savage-Winnie plot today?

What a great show...

In other words, Tim Wakefield is a workhorse. Just one that may be working at spending his money next season, not getting ours…

“I just saw that (Jorge) Posada retired, you know it’s something that my wife and I need to talk about,” Wakefield said, according to FloridaToday.com. “I’d probably need to talk about it with my kids, too. Ultimately, I would like to obviously play for the Boston Red Sox for one more year and see where it goes.”

Anyone else imagine his voice all mopey when he says that?

Okay. Now imagine it in this voice!

With the Sox since 1995. I was eleven. MLB debut in 1992. I was six. 200 wins. 2,156 strikeouts. A bazillion smiles.

Despite suffering through one of his worst seasons of an otherwise solid and sometimes spectacular career, the Eau Gallie High graduate and Florida Tech baseball standout is convinced he can still help a team win.

And it’s not that repetitive denial that has-beens repeat on their Facebook and Twitter feeds. Wake DOES have stones left.

It’s just- do those stones fit into our ball park and our ALREADY cramped pen?

“There have been a number of clubs who have called, who have an interest in signing me but I’m kind of just weighing my options right now,” he said, obviously waiting and hoping that Boston will make an offer. “I think I can be a valuable asset to them as an insurance policy, you know a fifth or sixth starter or if something doesn’t pan out for some of the guys they have already penciled in to the rotation. You know that’s kind of been my job these last two years; I don’t have a problem doing that.”

Getting past the condescension of the author’s “obviously waiting” remark (I hate condescending reporters, don’t you?)… He knows his value. As an insurance policy.

If the choices for No. 5 starter come down to reclamation projects like Aaron Cook, Carlos Silva and Vicente Padilla, or a number of other untested or questionable choices (Junichi Tazawa is one), is Wakefield really so undesirable?

And that is assuming Daniel Bard fits in as No. 4 starter, which remains an assumption for now.

Bobby Valentine has already said he cannot imagine Wakefield competing for a job. That might sound cold, but whatever the Red Sox owe Wakefield (and a roster spot is not on the list), the newly hired Valentine owes him nothing.

He’s not asking to take the lead. He’s not asking for $$$. He’s not asking for fame. He’s just asking to keep playing baseball, with a humility that SOME people (ahem, Lackey. Papelbon. Probably Jacoby next year) could learn from…

And even at 45-he can still be a benefit. My thoughts? We hold onto him. Not make him part of our regular rotation. Not make him part of our bullpen. But keep him for a clutch moment when everyone’s arm is shot. Going to happen. Late this summer when the rotation is tired and we need a miracle. A hero. Someone with a good attitude. Because when Tim does rise from the ashes of everyone else’s failure- that’s when he pulls it out. That’s when he shines. And that’s when debates start about his robotness. Save him for when we need him. And let him retire in a Sox jersey. He’s earned it.

And seriously, Benny C. Call. Him. Back.

You NEVER forget to call your father. Bad things happen, Ben Cherington. Bad things. He’ll just show up at your doorstep. He’ll just show up. And demand to see your packing progress. And when you don’t have packing progress, he’ll compensate by packing your coffee. And you won’t be able to find it. And you’ll have to go to a gas station Monday morning. A GAS STATION. That’s $1.99 you’ll NEVER get back, Ben.

—-

PS- and this is random- but I miss Mike Lowell. I miss Mike Lowell so much that it hurts sometimes.

Mike Lowell would NEVER have let Soxsplosion happen. No, sir. Not Mike Lowell…

I’m okay… I’m okay…

—-

In less somber news (because that was somber, man), Curt Schilling is expressing his opinions again. This time about something waaay more relevant than his usual cup of bitters. He’s defending something video gamey that I’ve never heard of. Whatever, Curt. Did you know he owned a video game studio? Did you care?

—

HuffPost released an interesting list today- the 10 worst contracts in baseball. Carl Crawford is #10. John Lackey is #6. Alex Rodriguez is #3.

There’s no way for the Yankees to get out from under a contract that will pay A-Rod $21 million during the season he turns 42. And then there’s the $30 million in home run bonuses he stands to earn. The Yankees print money, but yikes!

Jason Werth is #1? Really?

—-

Manny Ramirez, Juice King, may be back in the MLB fold, as the A’s are rumored to crave juice… Be a part of the collective eye roll in 3, 2, 1… NOW.

—-

MLB is reeealllyyyy struggling for news. So they popped up a craptastic piece about how we don’t always know who wins or loses pre-season. Wow with the ace reporting, skip. We allllll know which team this article aims to scrutinize passive aggressively.

—

Roy Oswalt, enjoying the attention, clearly, is going to milk it just a little bit longer before taking a deal with (probably) the Cardinals.

—

And here’s a theory about putting Jose Iglesias in the shortstop dance.

—-

So. How’s your Monday?

I’d quit again, if I could.

Is a dramatic exit redundant when you’ve already put in your two weeks? I think it might be time to stage “I quit: The Musical.” I’m good on vocals, but I’m going to need a five string…

~L

Waiting is horrible. But Youkie’s back. Did he ask about me, Nick?

Today’s the day I decide my immediate future. And we all know how much I suck at making decisions. And there’s waiting involved this time. And other assorted patience-testing factors. Apparently I’m a patience fail.

So, I’m trying to distract myself at work.

But I can’t distract myself at work, see, because it’s a slow news day. And because work is entwined in all this inner turmoil waiting drama.

I could distract myself by reading the In Defense of John Lackey article… but I’ll just feel guilty. You know. About this.

So instead, I’ll read interviews with Kevin Youkilis over and over. Oh, Youkie, how I’ve missed you…

Now that Youkie’s back, I feel like everything’s going to be okay again.

“It’s just playing the game and not worrying about other stuff and the media hype and things that are going on. Because if you’re going crazy with that stuff, it’s going to eat you all up.

“If you just play the game, not worry, not read what’s put out there, everything that’s said, it handles itself.’’

What sage, smart advice. I’m going to print that out and put it on my “goodbye” notes at work.

And he’s better, guys! He’s better- he’s back- and he’s Youktastic (I’m trying to get that word to catch on since Posada ruined my last trend).

“I’ve been cleared,’’ he said. “For the past two weeks, I’ve felt great, my whole body. There are little things here and there, this time of year, you have to get going and ramp it up. I’ve started to ramp up as much as I can, and I feel great, healthy, lifting with no restrictions.’’

No restrictions, eh?

I know a gal who loves you that’s moving in two weeks. And she has heavvvvvy couches…

And, craziness, he was Beantown for a Youk’s kids event that featured Gavin DeGraw- of “Sweet Chariot” and “Not over you” acclaim… the same Gavin DeGraw who was in Boone last November. This is crazy, see- because I’ve been having these really weird dreams- kind of heavily Gavin with a little Youk thrown in. Very strange, considering I was lapse in my Youk news and didn’t know they were together. It’s like one of them is trying to contact me!

I keep dreaming he’s back in Boone and I’m interviewing him and we have these deep conversations. I bet Gavin and Youkie have deep conversations. I bet Youkie has SUCH deep conversations. Right. Back to Gavin DeGraw. Who I am now following on Twitter.

Gavin shows are a blast- probably best concert I’ve covered in the past two years (save Patti Lupone. Nothing can beat Patti Lupone)- so, if you have the opportunity to go (esp if it’s at a smallish venue like Farthing Auditorium)- do it. Do it now. If I get bored later (and Delaware still hasn’t called about the job and/or I’m still agonizing over Delaware vs Raleigh), I’ll go into a little more dream detail. Youk was there. You might have been too, actually…

~L

So. Um. Know any good jokes? Any good Youk memories? DISTRACT ME, PLEASE.

Where the money went. To people like JOHN LACKEY, that’s where.

DAMNIT, JOHN LACKEY!

From Full Count

~L

John Lackey, if I had a dollar for every time I’ve growled at you on this blog, I could afford THREE Roy Oswalts. Think about that.

Scoot away from the Scut!

Are you seeing this? Rumors abound that a Scutaro trade could be a-foot.

Scut was actually useful. USEFUL. Could we stop this crazy talk, Benny V?

Let’s talk more imports than exports, guys. Who we can get. Not who we can kick out.

The theory is- Scut would free up the $$$ to get pitchers. Okay. Great. I like pitcher $$$.

Someone explain again why we can’t do that with Lackey? He’d be a GREAT export.

Apparently the Scut deal fizzled… but if they’re shopping Scut, more deals could be on the horizon. Wonder how the folks at the Scut blog feel about this development.

What’s your take on Mr. Marco? Leave the scoop on the Scut in the comments section.

~L

PS- it is snowing in Delaware. See?

Hmm. You can't really see in this picture, can you?

I am terrified. Because I have to drive to the Philly airport in the am. Stupid snow. It follows me. I’m telling you…

PPS- I like Delaware. Because you never have to pay for drinks. More on this later.

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

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

Erik Bedard. Glad to meet you?

When I start watching, there’s a C.C. Sabathia Pepsi commercial on. Pepsi, I am never drinking you again. Okay. So I don’t drink Pepsi. Or soda. But you know what? I’m double not drinking you now.

Nervous. Haven’t seen the score. Just want to watch Erik Bedard pitch. It is 8:11 p.m. How much damage can be done in an hour? Right. Right.

I like that you are French, Erik. If you are sucking, I plan to yell at you in French. Oh, look. The same bad screen problems.

Oh, Masterson. I loved you so.

I cannot see the score because of the split checkerboard screen.  We must be winning.

3-2. Oh. 3-2.

I am so conflicted. Justin Masterson, I want you to do well, but I want my team to hit your balls. Oh, was that a look of recognition? Did you recognize me through my computer screen just then? We were something special, you and I, Justin. Remember the happy nights we spent together? While you pitched okay plus and I fantasized about your potential? In a few years, we said… in a few years…

Alas. Our love story was not to be. Like “Love Story” with Ryan O’Neal (or is it O’Niel?). Except instead of cancer, you got Cleveland.

Kevin Youkilis. Awkward. Two of my loves fighting, pitcher and batter. I am going to imagine they are fighting for me.

Youkilis is out. I am agape. It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.

Justin! That’s not the way to win my heart. No sir (she says as she shakes her fist at a Theo Epstein graphic. For me, I said, Theo! For me! Why couldn’t you have kept Justin Masterson for me?!).

—-

Strike out number four for Bedard. Okay. I like strike outs. I like how Jerry Remy pronounces your name. Be-dod.

I’m not sure what happened with the three runs. So I am withholding judgment. I was late because I was giving my dog a hair cut. She looks awful. I may take a picture and put it on here. I don’t know. She doesn’t want me to because she’s embarrassed and partially bald on one side.

Oops.

Strike out 5. Okay.

So. Um. From what I see, you’re okay.

So why the three runs again? Was it Lackey? Did you tag him in? Because I meant to warn you about that.

Ellsbury catches. Ends. Niceness.

But 3-2 Indians? What’s with that?

—-

Once again, someone asked me why I am in love with Kevin Youkilis.

It’s really not an easy question to answer.

But I will try.

Well, he’s affectionate.

He’s a hugger, Youkie is.

Oh, and he is a kickass baseball player.

Oh, and he gives me a secret signal. You wouldn’t understand. Ours is a spiritual plane kind of love.

—

Justin just struck out Ortiz. I think I have a corner tear. Oh. It’s from dog hair, wafting through the apartment. Next time I give you a haircut, Ellie, you will be outside.

Justin Masterson, can you come home? I will give you Jed Lowrie. And John Lackey, Cleveland. And, okay. You can have Bobby Jenks too. But only if you can get Justin to us by the 7th inning stretch.

2 outs. I blame Theo.

—

Josh Reddick. Home run. 3-3.

Now, Sox-Rox (see comments), Cleveland is not cancer. That’s just mean.

They’re more like Roundworm. Oh! Or Rabies.

That’s less mean. Right? Isn’t that less mean than cancer?

I am drinking vodka and Gatorade tonight. And it is not good.

Home runs are good. Thanks, Josh.

—-

OHMYGODYOUGUYSSHUTUP! It is Jason Varitek. I haven’t seen Jason Varitek in so long! He will do great things for us today. He will… strike out.

OHMYGODJUSTINYOUSTRUCKOUTTHECAPTAIN. You deserve ice cream or something.

NO. No ice cream for the person who strikes out the Captain.

No.

Feelings are confusing!

—-

It is 8:31. And Josh Reddick just spit. CHILDREN ARE WATCHING YOU.

I can’t stand a spitter.

Hi, Bedard.

Qu’est-ce qui était cela?

Youkie. Merci.

Honestly, people. It’s so stressful watching a pitcher you do not know. Oh, and John Lackey.

Hey, you ended the pledge, buddy. I tried.

Hi, Erik.

I like you.

I do.

We’re going to be friends.

We will speak French to each other and say things with French accents. And you can braid my hair.

I think I love you. Enchanté.

Strike two. Full count. “Bedard has not walked anybody in the game tonight.”

He won’t start now. Not when I’ve just professed my optimism. He won’t…

Crawford running catches it. You knew he was going to do that, didn’t you Erik? Clever. Giving him a false sense of security like that. But see, Josh gives me a signal so I don’t have a heart attack. You should… you know what? You’ll learn. You’ll learn. De rien.

—

Hi, BH (see comments)! Glad to see you. Glad you didn’t miss the Reddick homer. Go away. And then come back. Maybe that is the key to our home runs tonight. Go! Hurry, so you can come back!

—-

Marco Scutaro. Oh, Bedard- à quoi bon? Seriously.

Out. Of course.

Oh, Heidi is talking about Jed Lowrie.

“I need to make sure that I’m healthy so I can help this team win.”

Hah. You. Healthy. Yeah. Okay.

Now he’s talking about in 2009 “playing through the pain.”

Really? When did you EVER play through the pain?

—-

Left Center…. can’t get it! Yess. Ellsbury gets to first. Sweet.

—–

Either of you guys interested in guest blogging? No?

—–

Ellsbury still at first. Pedroia sinks into an out. A stinky, stinky out.

I really hope I get to see at least ONE Stanks game this weekend…

Hi, Masterson. I mean Gonz! I mean Gonz!

So confuuuuuussseeed.

Justin. For old time’s sake. Could you…

No… I could never ask you to be what you’re not.

We live in two different worlds, Justin. It’s like in “The Last Unicorn.” You’re my Prince Lir. It’s very romantic in a mythical cartoony way.

A happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story.

Like the wind off the sea…

Justin Masterson. I just don’t know what to say.

Screw that.

My feelings can best be expressed by Idina Menzel.

Erik Bedard. You are kind of great. I say kind of, because, thanks to checkerboard MLB that I am paying $20 a month for, I can’t entirely tell.

But you seem swell.

My dog looks really horrible. I kind of feel bad. She’s being boarded for a few days starting tomorrow. All the other puppies might make fun of her.

High fly ballllllllll Jacoby at wall… Jacoby leaps… Jacoby flubs. Double. Whatever. WHATEVER.

Oh no. A home run. Oh no. It’s okay. It’s… It’s okay. A two run home run.

Carlos Santana. Pffft. Il ne casse pas trois pattes à un canard. Pfft. We’ve still got this, Erik.

5 to… um… 3.

Pffft. Revenons à nos moutons.

Two runs. Whatever. Two runs is nothing. We’re fine. We’ve got this, you and I, Bedard.

And, thanks, Pedroia. We finally have an out. That’s something. We’re fiiinneeee. Not even worried. Not. Even. Worried. No.

Okay. I just got the memo that wasn’t you, Erik. That was Morales. Because I just saw through the checkboards. And NOW I AM ANGRY. YOU KNOW BETTER, Morales. YOU KNOW BETTER. This is YOUR fault. YOUR FAULT.

FIX ITFIXITNOW.

——

Make. It. Stop.

MAKEITSTOPNOW.

—–

Gatorade is a TERRIBLE drink.

—-

Alfredo Aceves. Ohmygod, Alfredo. Did you see what Morales tried to do to us? Did you see what Morales DID to us? Did you see? Ohmygod, Alfredo.

I ate your pasta today.

Okay. I didn’t. But I wanted too. I went to Which Wich again.

Oh, Alfredo. Fix this. And then go give Erik a hug. I don’t want him to think we do this to pitchers. I mean, you know we do this to pitchers. But I want him fooled. I don’t want him to think our bullpen hates our rotation. Okay?

John Lackey! Stop talking to Erik! You might be contagious! Stop it!

It’s okay, Erik. I won’t let them hurt you. I hear you hurt easily. I’m going to protect you. With. My. Mind.

Alfredo?

Alfredo? Why?

Why would you… Why?

Double for Matt LaPorta.

“As he plays pepper with that left field wall.”

What does it mean to play pepper with something?

I don’t understand. I am confused.

Google search time!

Oh. That’s what it means?

That does not make sense, Jerry Remy.

We really only have one out?

Alfredo? You’re supposed to fix everything and then you were going to go tell John Lackey to stay off our Erik. You were going to do that intimidating snarl that you do. You know the one. No. Not that one. No. Not that one. Nope.

Oh good. Now the audio is checkerboarding. It’s like a Jerry Remy round. Seriously, MLB. I can’t believe I pay money for this.

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Full count. STRIKE. Stop saying that, Jerry! Stopppp it.

I don’t understand why you keep repeating and why I haven’t muted you. Oh. Mute. You sound better now.

And I can hear myself. I will sing.

You are so deprived. I wish you could hear me. I bet my neighbors can hear me.

They’re so lucky.

Did you know there are Youtube videos where you can sing opposite Idina Menzel?

Oh. Neither did I.

After a discussion from Jason Varitek… Yes. An out. You were struck out. With an out. Two outs.

There are supposed to be three outs, Alfredo.

—-

It’s okay, BH. I think I handled it. I explained to Alfredo that there are three outs and that innings are supposed to end. It’s okay now. You’re welcome.

—-

Just YOOUUUUUUUU AND I… DEFYYYYYING GRAVITY….

My neighbors are so lucky.

I can sing and type. Can I sing and type?

Um. Kinda.

Come on, Alfreeeeeddoooooo…..

Striiiikeeee threee… and the indians suckkkkk <- you can sing that to the tune of “Defying Gravity” if you want.

Out.

More Gatorade!

—-

Dear Justin Masterson,

I hope you’re happy now.

Now that you’re choosing this.

I hope it brings you bliss.

I really hope you get it. And don’t live to regret it…

Okay. I’ll stop.

Typing. I’ll never stop singing. Never.

“I met Pedroia at Red Sox Camp,” kid’s sign says. I am sooooooo jealous.

And you jerk. You just outed Youkilis. I mean you gave him an out. I mean you made him out. I mean… he was out. You know what I mean!!!!

Molina spit on an ump? really? Fascinating news tonight, Heidi.It is the bottom of the 6th. And David Ortiz is batting. And it is 9:12. And his helmet is REALLY shiny today.

Clap those hands, baby. Clap those hands! Work it!

See that Justin snarl, Alfredo? If you had snarled like that, you probably would have pitched better.

Just saying.

—-

I think I would like “So You Think You Can Dance.” But I don’t have a television. Is your computer doing weird boxy things that break up your image, BH?

Maybe MLB just hates North Carolina.

Ortiz is walking. Masterson’s first walk.

Thanks, Justin. Thanks.

Don’t think I don’t know that was for me.

—-

You can’t keep doing this, Justin. They’ll know. They’ll know about us. And there’s no telling what Cleveland will do.

Outside ball? They’re going to find out, Justin. And Cleveland will tell Youk. And then we’ll both be in trouble. More Gatorade? Okay!
—-

Electrolytes are good for you. Really. I looked it up.

And an error leaves us with no outs! Swell.

Swell!

But Justin, you’ve got to be more subtle. Belcher’s talking to him. Oh no! They’ve found us out! Quick! Alfredo! Cover Youk’s eyes!

—-

Oh, it must be dramatic. They’re playing previous clips like the Reddick homer. Oh no. I’m sorry I got us into this mess, Justin. Blame it on the ‘rade.

—-

Josh Reddick, aka Joshy-poo, is going to get a three run homer. He will. You’ll see. They’ll all see!

—-

In the air to left. Caught. Joshy-poo?

—

Two outs. But two on base.

Masterson is faced with a dilemma. Help the one that got away (that’s me) or save face with his buddies in Cleveland.

Ball two.

Jason Varitek.

Jassssooonnnnnn Varitek.

Foul. Two and Two.

Justin. Stand strong. Help a captain out. You knoooowwwww you want to.

Tek is like a FATHER to you. He’s like a FATHER to me. That makes us… um…

DAMNIT, Justin.

We’re over.

Again.

Stop calling me. Cleveland can have you.

—-

I didn’t mean it.

—

I did!

—

I like how the commercials come in crysssstttalllll clear.

—-

Anyone know any good knock-knock jokes? I heard this one today about Florida. But it wasn’t a knock-knock joke. It was something like a Canes fan, a Gator’s fan and… um… A Noles fan? Yes. They’re all on this roof, see, trying to show how great their fanship is, right? And the Noles fan jumps to show his devotion and says “This is for …” I can’t remember. But he says something dramatic, right? And then the Canes fan pushes the Gator’s fan off of the roof and says, “This is for the Canes!”

I know. I know I’m not supposed to drink Gatorade. It is not the drink of my people. But it is lemonlime. And at the corner market near my house.

—-

Pestano is warming up. For the best, I suppose.

—-

Is Miller really pitching?

FDA, I have loved Youkilis since he started playing. We got married in April of 2005. I am nothing if not faithful. And marital status does not matter to me in my baseball marriages.

—–

Oh no. Asdrubbbbbbbbbbbbubbbbbbbuubbbbuaaallllaaabear is about to bat. That’s his real name, you know.

Miller. What are you doing? Is this on purpose? Because you are not Erik Bedard. You do not get a free pass from me.

—–

Strikeeeee out. See? Snippy comments work. Good, Miller. Gooooood.

—-

And FDA- I LOVE Youkilis. I LIKE Chinese food.

—-

On the other side of the planet. Um. Internet. Jeb just said the Pirates are losing.

—-

I don’t think Andrew Miller has seen “Wicked.” If he had, he would be inspired. Because everyone in all of Oz, all Wizards that there are or were are totally going to briiiiiingggggg himmmmm dowwwwnnnnnn…

Okay. I’m done. With the typing. Not the singing.

My dog just went upstairs.

Hmmm.

—-

No. No. No. NO.

Cabrera, aka Asdrublahavomitabeaaaarrrr, scored.

—-

I do not know what the score is. Because of the checkerboards. Okay. I do know what the score is. But I’m not typing it. That makes it real. And this? This isn’t real. This isn’t reality. There are too many walls. That’s deep. Deep. Like this Gatorade. They give you a lot for six dollars.

OUT. Fahfricking finally. 6-3. SIX TO THREE. There. I said it. Don’t hurt me, sky.

—-

Let’s write fanfiction about this game. Let’s. Okay.

The game that one day when we weren’t losing

by Lauren

One day there was this game.

It was at Fenway Park.

There were these Red Sox. And they hit lots of home runs. But not normal home runs. Magical home runs. That hit irritating people in the stands and made them fall off Fenway Park. No one died or anything. But this girl with the spikey hair who cut off Lauren on King Street today? She got hurt.

Oh, and Kevin Youkilis got four grand slams. And that was only part of the 87-1 score. Justin Masterson cried a lot. And said, “Whyyyyy? Whyyyyy?” And Theo Epstein (he was wearing this hat. It was a big hat) looked upon him and said, “Boy? Why are you crying?”

And Justin said, “Because no one loves me and I suck now in Cleveland. And my only friend is Drew Carey.”

And, since the thimble didn’t make him feel better, Theo decided to take him away to a magical land on the other side of the stadium.

“Come with us, Justin,” he said. “You will never be sad again. And we’ll let you grow your hair out so you don’t look so awkwardly bald.”

“But, Theo?! However will I escape?”

“I’ve got a plan.”

And, with Youkilis’ help, Theo threw John Lackey and Jed Lowrie (whose injury made him bouncy) and Marco Scutaro at Cleveland and they stuck like double sided tape. And we got this amazing new short stop. Named. Um. Greg. His name was Greg. And he had many home runs.

And The Red Sox Won.

The end.

—-

I am really talented.

I understand why no one wants to guest blog. But if none of you volunteer, I am going to call Jeb again.

—-

Bottom of the 7th. 9:42. Ohno. If the Yankees win (and they are winning) and we lose (and we are losing), we would be tied.

OHNO.

Dustin Pedroia, I hope you heard that. Swing and a miss makes quick work of Pedroia? Stop it! Stop making quick work of yourself!

—-

Clearly your laundry is cursed, BH. Hurry! Roll it around in grass or something!

—-

Adrian Gonzalez. You should do something. Like. Um. Score. Like hit a two-run homer and let the crowd cheer. “Adrian!” They’ll chant! “Adrian!” And then they’ll throw crepe paper and streamers and candy and everyone will be happy again and… Gonz chops it toward the shortstop. And Cabrera ends the inning. Didn’t you like my scenario better?

—-

BH, did I tell you that awhile back you were comment 1,000? You win a prize but I have not drawn it yet. It is something you can look forward to.

—-

If I do not have a guest blogger, my blog will be blogless for days! For days!

—-

I would like seven guest bloggers. SEVEN.

—

It may not be today. But some day, Cleveland. This day you will rue!

Rue is the name of the kid in the “Hunger Games” books. Not the big kid. The little kid. Great books. A lot like the Red Sox, really. You would like them, FDA. They are violent.

—

Heidi is telling everyone to donate canned food. I would love to. But see, I can’t. Because no one loves me enough to take me to the games.

—-

6-3. Still. Top of the 8th. Tony fricking Sipp is warming up. I HATE that guy. I think it’s because of the necessary “p” in his name. I’m not a fan of most verbs as names. I am not fooled by the extra letter.

Jacoby makes a running catch. And you are out.

Lalalalalalalalala.

Gatoraaaaaade.

—

Yeah? Well at least my team name’s not racist.

You heard me.

No. Cleveland isn’t so bad. Blogger friend Bheise is just swell and dandy.

But you, weird fan at Fenway, you are not swell or dandy. And I saw that finger. I saw it.

I met a guy today in a Red Sox hat who told me he was a Twins fan.

Yeah. That’s the expression I had too.

I am going to start an anti-spitting campaign.

“The spitting starts with you,” it will say. And it will show a little meek child with a quivering lip. And then it will say:

“Spitting means no Santa Clause.”

Yikes.

Hit by a pitch. Yikes.

Yeah. Let’s not do that again. Two on. Yeah. I’m not happy about that one…

—-

Strike out. Two down. But see, two on. And that’s what I’m not liking, Curt Young.

—

Yes. All of you should e-mail me your guest blogs- ohnolauren@gmail.com.

—

Pedroia flips to second. Out.

Still 6-3, Indians. But at least that half of the inning is OVER.

—

Okay. SOMEONE keeps using the following keyword phrase to find my site: “Is Jacoby Ellsbury on steroids?”

Seriously. I’ve gotten six searches in the last day.

Let me make it easy for you: NO.

—-

Youkilis hits it high in the air to left! And…. they make the catch. Is a period the opposite of an exclamation point?

—-

It is the bottom of the eighth. One out. Stupid. Sipp is slinking up. Stupid Sipp.

—-

Speaking of sipping- Gatorade!

—

If you have NOT answered my curiosity question, I encourage you to do so. Answers entertain me verily.

—-

Ortiz. Monster. DOOOOO IT.

Boston Globe guy catches it.

Whatev.

I would so catch it.

You know. If I was there. SIGH.

David Ortiz, your helmet is muccchhhhh shinier today. Did you wax it?

Ortiz to left… caught.

DAMNIT, GUYS.

Two down.

Stupid Tony Sipp.

Stupid.

9 appearances has not given up a hit to the Red Sox. This will be the day, SIPP. This will be the fricking DAY.

I could be watching “Into the Woods” with Bernadette Peters right now. Did you know that is on Netflix??? I know.

—

Tony Sipp falls. He falls! He collapses! He’s…. laughing? Laughing? The baseball dirt? It’s tickling, he said? And the ball rolls out of his hands and Carl hits it out of the park.

Oh, sorry. I was fantasizing again.

Come on, Carl!

And he ends the inning. Blah.

—-

Of course. It is great news when we lose. Because we are perfect, and all. Of course. ESPN must overreact, you see. They have to, FDA. Because this will NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN (Right guys? Right?).

—-

Dan Wheeler is in the pen. Chris Perez looks like Johnny Damon. Blah.

—-

It is the top of the 9th. We are still pretending we know how to throw. I say pretending, because you LOOK like a pitcher, Miller. You do. Except for the whole NOT PITCHING THING.

Are we really going to tie the fricking Stanks?

In a way, it’s a good thing. We’ll beat them in Fenway and there will be nothing the punk Stanks can say about it.

Strike out. Okay. Thanks, Miller.

Thanks for the thought. But it doesn’t mean anything, see, until we actually start HITTING THE BALL.

Lester against Colon tomorrow. Lackey and Sabathia (crinnnggggeeeee) Saturday.

—-

Asdrububuablahbloserjerkfacethrowupvomitbrerabel is up. Outside Ball Three. THREE. See this, Miller? Strike. Okay. Okay. Strike. Gatorade. Oh yeah, Asdrubabbeliwetthebedbel, adjusting your gloves. Because -that- was the glove’s fault, I’m sure.

In the dirt. And a WALK.

A WALK. You know who should walk, Miller? YOU. Back to the fricking bullpen.

—

It’s okay, BH. When we beat them with LACKEY, they will be humiliated.

—

Swing and a miss. Strike out. Okay. Um. Good, Miller. Good.

—

Adrublahbrattabel just stole a fricking base.

—-

Miller, your hair is doing this flippy thing. I wish you would fix it. If I could just cut that one little piece…

—-

2 outs. 9th. 2 outs. “A little nubber up in front of the plate.”

Silly announcers.

—

Okay, Ellie. I’m SORRY. I’ll never cut your hair again. Just come back. It’s like she knows I’m laughing at her. It’s like she’s a people again.

—-

Chad Durbin warming up. Yes…. I like that better than the Sippy Cup.

COMEON. First and third. Distress. Ball. Hit. Foul. Youkie hits the photogs. I’d rather you hit the ball.

—-

Theo, this really is your fault, you know.

—

Ball off the wall. Double. 7-3 now.

Theo, are you happy?

Yeah, go to the pen. GO.

—-

You know what other musical I like (and it so counts even though it is just internet)? Dr. Horrible’s Sing Along Blog. It is on Netflicks too. Check it out.

—

Dan Wheeler. He has a Lackeyesque quality to him today. I don’t know what it is…

Matt LaPorta. Please make Matt LaPorta sit down.

—-

Two outs. COMEON.

Seriously, Theo. If you had kept Justin Masterson, none of this would have ever happened. And, with the Butterfly Effect, who knows what other wonders might have ensued? I might have a pony AND a boat by now.

YOUR FAULT.

Gatorade.

—

I liked Tonya Harding. You know. Before she went crazy. I wasn’t really a Nancy Kerrigan fan. I LOVED Katerina Witt. Remember her? I wanted to be her when I grew up. But I decided to eat.

—-

Crawford catches it. The inning fah-fricking-finally ends. And Josh Reddick is up next. It’s just BOTTOM OF THE NINTH. No pressure.

—

Your pitcher looks like a classier Johnny Damon.

And catch. One out.

Seriously, Erik. Please do not think this is something we do all the time. Please do not think this is acceptable here. This game is not your fault, Erik. This game is Theo’s fault. This game is an opportunity for me to scream “I told you so,” after telling him so when he fricking ripped Masterson away.

Tek to right field. Caught.

Out.

Two outs.

That’s okay. There are three of them, the outs.

—-

OHNO.

It’s Marco Scutaro. The man who is SWELL at being the last out. SWELL.

—-

Who doesn’t like Dr. Horrible? Clearly Bad Horse has Scut on his side.

STOP ALIGNING YOURSELF WITH THE THOROUGHBRED OF SIN!

Justin Masterson, I do not know what to say to you. I just don’t.

Scutaro. I know exactly what to say to you. But I’ll say it French. That way, Erik and I can have a secret.

Plus. It is very vulgar.

Tu me fais chier! Faut péter dans l’eau pour faire des bulles. Brûle en enfer!

And you, Theo!

Le cerveau il etait en option chez toi. Tu es betes comme tes pieds! Comprend bien, tu parles à un con.

Vous avez le cervau d’un sandwich au fromage.

Blah.

Please lose, Yankees.

~L

I have seen the Potter musical. Of course I am a Harry Potter fan. I am an American.

Just can’t win.

Inspired by fellow blogger Jup.

Jup, you see, doesn’t like Jacoby Ellsbury (who she calls Pretzels). And is unapologetic about it:

You’re not getting me on that bandwagon. It looks crowded, and I’m not that social. After giving it thirty seconds of thought, Pretzels has Kevin Cash syndrome. No matter what he does, no matter how well he plays, I won’t like him, and I don’t have a legitimate reason.

I get it.

No, I do.

I am a staunch Jacobist. Always will be (as long as he stays anti-juice) thanks to a well-timed home steal against Pettitte that one time.

But it got me thinking…

Who’s that player that you’re unapologetic about? Who’s that player that can’t do right by you, even if they work the win?

I have two, really. You know my anti-Lackeyness… (who I grimace at even on the few outings where he kicks) but unless you’ve been paying close attention- you may not know about my anti-Jed Lowrie-ness. I can’t explain it, really. I think it’s because he’s always injured. But Dice-K is always injured. And much more of a liability. And I find myself missing him, that little smirk he does when he sizzles. You know?

Jed Lowrie? I don’t even miss him when Scut anti-sizzles. You know. That thing he has been doing ALL THE TIME lately.

So who is it that cringes your last nerve? That you force yourself to watch? That you root for BECAUSE he’s on the home team?

And, on the other side of the spectrum… who do you unapologetically defend with every fiber in your fan being, often for no reason? Who will always be on your fantasy team? Even when he’s swinging strikes and falling face first into the baseball dirt on his way back to the dugout?

I don’t have a player like that. Nope.

KEVIN YOUKILIS DOES NOT COUNT. HE IS PERFECT.

~L

Non-Sox fans? Same question.

There are no yellow lights in baseball. It’s allllllll green.

Seriously.

Just read an article telling us to keep our “yellow caution flag” out with regards to Erik Bedard’s start tomorrow.

Why?

Because, ladies and gents, he’s recovering from an INJURY. The “oft-injured” Bedard who joins our “oft-injured” rotation is, like everyone else who wears the Boston “B,” or so it seems, INJURED.

“We want to help get him to where he can pitch like he can pitch and it might take a little while to do that,” manager Terry Francona said before last night’s 3-2 win. “He’s got 12⁄3 starting innings under his belt, he’s got no rehab starts, so he might not be at peak efficiency yet. Fans and media might not be patient with him, but we will be.

Really? You are NOT making me feel better about the “oft-injured” description. Oh, I’m sure you’ll be patient. You’ve been patient for… let’s see… JOHN LACKEY. And… you were patient with MIKE TIMLIN… and… let’s see… JOHN LACKEY. Oh, remember Delcarmen? Oh, and Lugo? Remember LUGO? I remember Lugo. Your patience does not instill in me CONFIDENCE. JOHN LACKEY?

“With Erik, we understand with him we have to be a little bit slow here. He pitched a game probably for obvious reasons probably before he was ready to pitch. He should have probably been on a rehab. We all understand why and we’re glad he did.”

Slow here? This is the Red Sox. We’ve got to hit the ground running. Don’t make me nervous before Bedard even hits the mound, please.

And, sportsies the world over say, it’s not just about Bedard specific:

Boston has had little success through the years in picking up helpful starting pitching midway through a season.

But you know what? That’s tomorrow. Bedard is tomorrow. TONIGHT is Wake. NUMBER 200. 200, people. Let’s watch it together. Sayyyyyy my blog, 7:10ish? See you then.

~L

 

And just in time… to lose?

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

Dear Cameron, Why couldn’t you do that in Boston? Love, Lauren

Florida LOVES Mike Cameron.

Cameron, who was acquired earlier this month from Boston, hit home runs in the eighth and ninth to drive in three runs and give Florida a 7-1 lead before Steve Cishek allowed four runs in ninth.

I’m glad he’s happy. You are happy, right, Cameron? You don’t hit homeruns when you’re unhappy. Maybe that’s JD Drew’s problem. He’s unhappy. Maybe he should watch cartoons or something before games. You know. And not crappy, squiggly lined confusing cartoons. Hilarious cartoons. Like Scooby Doo. And the Animaniacs.

~L

PS- Lackey’s talking. Agggggaaaainnnn.

“It’s one of the reasons I came here,” Lackey said of the Red Sox’ offensive potency. “Look at some of my years in Anaheim. It wasn’t exactly like that. As a pitcher, you’re OK with sitting over there for some extra-long half-innings to watch that and get a lot of run support. It’s fun to watch, for sure.”

I bet it’s EXTRA fun to watch when you load up the bases and allow 4 runs. One of the reasons you came here. Silly me, I thought it was the moolah. Hey- I’m not slamming him. Just making casual… casual observations… no pledge breakin’ here…

“I think we’ll be fine,” Lackey said. “We’ve got some guys with experience in October. I think, once you get there, some things just kind of turn on.”

Wow. Acknowledging suckage. Look at that.

No, really. Read between the lines. No blame. Only accolades for the “some guys.”

I call it an improvement.

1:35. Today. Let’s do this.