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.
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-
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?
Cocaine. OF COURSE YOU DID, “Oil Can” Boyd. And yes, thanks, America- for making this relevant JUST as the beer stains and chicken grease were starting to fade. And THANK YOU, “Oil Can” Boyd, for your sudden AND SUPER RELEVANT, BY THE WAY, admission. Why the FRICK would you start word vomiting? Oh. OF COURSE. So blow, hmm? You sure?
“Oh yeah, at every ballpark,’’ he said. “There wasn’t one ballpark that I probably didn’t stay up all night, until four or five in the morning, and the same thing is still in your system. It’s not like you have time to go do it while in the game, which I had done that.
“Some of the best games I’ve ever, ever pitched in the major leagues I stayed up all night; I’d say two-thirds of them,’’ said Boyd. “If I had went to bed, I would have won 150 ballgames in the time span that I played. I feel like my career was cut short for a lot of reasons, but I wasn’t doing anything that hundreds of ballplayers weren’t doing at the time; because that’s how I learned it.
“It was something that I had to deal with personally and I succumbed. I lived through my life and I feel good about myself. I have no regrets about what I did or said about anything that I said or did. I’m a stand-up person and I came from a quality background of people.’’
Oh. Okay. So you were loaded. Awesome. Here’s my favorite part. Where he says he was ousted because of his color and not his nose candy.
“The reason I caught the deep end to it is because I’m black. The bottom line is the game carries a lot of bigotry, and that was an easy way for them to do it,’’ Boyd said.
Who are you anyway?
Wikipedia says you stopped playing because of blood clots in your arm. ARE YOU ACCUSING WIKIPEDIA OF LYING?
Seriously? That’s your REAL picture? And we didn’t know you were on blow?
See, I’ve heard of you, Boyd. But, since you stopped playing for the Sox about the time I turned five-years-old, I find you irrelevant and you give me this guy-under-a-bridge-vibe. I think it’s the facial hair. Could be the hat.
Is there a particular reason you are publishing this tell-all book, BOYD? Other than blow money?
This stuff really irritates me.
In feign-your-shock news, Roy Oswalt and Boston are still pretending to talk.
The Boston Red Sox have been talking to Roy Oswalt off and on this winter, but it doesn’t appear that a deal will be made.
Roy Oswalt, I’m going to try to say this WITHOUT rolling my eyes. WHATEVER.
Seriously. You’ve burned the Tigers. The Reds don’t give a frick. The Cards can’t put out. And you’re just standing there, shivering, naked without a team. Game plan, Roy. Whatcha going to do?
If you don’t decide soon, we have a Green Monstah outfit that looks about your size…
Seriously. Play for us. Don’t play for us. Dance a Papeljig off a dock into a shark sea. I don’t give a frick. Just please, please, please stop distracting my news alerts with your repetitive crap.
And ALWAYS wear a hat. Your head looks ridiculous.
PS- Seriously! Someone did cocaine in the 80s????? Send out a full press alert.
What a ridiculous news day.
In a move that has this song in my head all day-
-Ben Cherington adopted a child for us. His name is Daniel McGrath and he’s 17. And now the Red Sox are his daddy.
Daniel McGrath. Hmmm. It’s the 5th highest $$$ signing out of the 435 Aussies signed to play. Don’t worry. He’ll “complete year 12″ before Soxing it to spring training next year. And, hey, maybe the beer store will start carding. So, there’s that.
Maybe that’s Benny’s plan. Import people who CAN’T buy beer for the clubhouse.
It doesn’t say how he got his super powers… but I think we all know where that 150 km/hr fastball pitch REALLY came from.
Do you think he’ll introduce us to Gary Busey?
In other news, Trot Nixon is heading this Hall of Fame class… but the REAL news is that he went to New Hanover High School in Wilmington. Did YOU know that? I’ve been there like, a bazillion times. It’s the high school that every movie/tv show uses when they film in North Carolina- a high school I became acquainted with during my actor days. And, apparently, Trot Nixon could have been in the same town. You’d think that someone would have told me.
Oh! Oh! Oh! But there’s more news!
Giving us yet another reason to roll our eyes at New York, Mayor Bloomberg called Boston “Loserville.” Really. Mr. Bloomberg, do you know what comeuppins are? Because they’re comeuppining in April. Loserville? Really? Tim Thomas? Are you going to stand for that? I’ll be checking Facebok later for your statement.
I will remember this, Mr. Bloomberg, and I will rub your snotty little New York nose in it on behalf of all New England (just don’t cry again, Tom Brady) in April. Seriously, footballians, stop crying. How many rings does New England have? Honestly. You’d think you were Michelle Kwan. And a silver medal isn’t THAT bad.
And stop. STOP. Pulling baseball fans into your web of depression with whiny reminders like:
If only Wes Welker caught the ball. If he had, the city of Boston would still be sweeping up the confetti and Tom Brady would be resting comfortably in the pantheon of football greats. We’d still think Giselle Bundchen was charming and we’d be practicing dance moves to imitate Rob Gronkowski’s postgame partying. Eric Wilbur would be living a peaceful life.
Sound familiar? Sure does. In fact, it sounds a lot like last September.
SHUT. UP. Seriously, New England. You WON the Sandwich Monday Contest. Who NEEDS the Super Bowl?
Arbitration has been scheduled for Papi. Here’s to hoping it’s quick and painless!
I’m not the only one, btw, who rolled my eyes at Dan Shaughnessy yesterday. Our friends at Fenway West also voiced their whatevers at ya, Dan.
Speaking of rolling our eyes, the Roy Oswalt drama continues. And my eyes? They’re still rolling. You’d think they’d get tired.
So, kiddies, what do you think? Teenagers. Papi. Roy Oswalt. I’d like to hear your thoughts of the whole mess that is the Red Sox offseason.
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:
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.
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.
Today’s apartment search was a lot like reality television. Except uninsured. And I’m going to tell you about it in a minute. But to keep things relevant, I will show you the Onion’s rendition of the Roy Oswalt eye-roll marathon:
DALLAS—Sought-after free agent pitcher Roy Oswalt said he was “flattered and impressed” by the effort the Texas Rangers made in trying to sign him this week, but admitted he had no idea why the team made such a point of emphasizing the abundant, diverse, and thriving gay nightlife in Dallas.
“I know it’s traditional to tell a guy exactly how great the team is, and what a great city it is, and stuff like that,” said Oswalt, who returned to his home in Houston Thursday night after what he called a “stressful whirlwind tour” of the Rangers facilities and the city of Dallas proper. “And they did that, showed me around, but kept saying how Dallas had all kinds of people, and how they were pretty accepting, and no one was going to judge me, especially because I’d be a star there. I wasn’t really sure what the big idea was at first.”
Now back to me. What a bad day. It was like September, swirled inside four hours. With six hours of driving.
Seriously. While waiting on a property manager (who was twenty minutes late), I was approached by a guy in pajama pants (he says they’re $6) and a superman hat who said he was from Sudan… like Saddam Hussein, he said (um…). He opened the conversation by telling me how HIV free he was. And he should know, he said, he got tested at Duke University (I bet you did…). He tells me the apartments here are too expensive. But that he walks through the parking lot every day. Would I like a roommate?
Yep. And the second person I found said she was robbed at gunpoint… “but other than that, I love it here. You won’t get this much space for this little rent.”
And that place? 4 out of 5 safety stars.
Raleigh kicked my ass today.
The third apartment I looked at? Lady took my driver’s license. It’s something you have to do to show apartments. Except you’re supposed to give it back. She forgot she had it. Told me she had given it back to me. And that’s the story of how I have no driver’s license now. Was an extra-paranoid drive back to Boone today. Should get used to it since I won’t be able to get another driver’s license until I have proof of residency, address, etc in Raleigh.
I found a place. I did. But I keep second guessing. And third guessing. Why did I want to move again? I did confirm my membership in the Triangle Red Sox Nation meetup. That should cheer me up, right?
I got a fortune cookie today that said “The last choice is the best choice.”
Interesting because the apartment I chose WAS the last choice.
The Red Sox better hope my fortune cookie speaks the truth. Because at the rate we’re going, well… the last choice? It’s going to be the ONLY choice.
PS- SHUT UP, CURT.
And GO HOME, Manny Ramirez. Please pick the A’s. I don’t want you in my ALE.
Oh! And if you haven’t entered my super bowl pool yet- you should.
Today, I will be in Raleigh looking at apartments. Hopefully, by this time tomorrow, I will be the proud, yet naive renter of TWO dwellings.
I am such a sell out. I bet this is how Jonathan Papelbon feels. Except with less hair mousse. And a better house…
Speaking of decisions, Roy Oswalt still hasn’t made one. He is, however, letting other clubs in the “I’m just stringing you along” society. Welcome, Rangers. I saved you a seat. And the internet still cares, see. I think it’s because the 37,000 people that read this blog are not spreading my message adequately. Get on that, k?
A new report came out that says we almost got Curtis Grandersnot. You know what that is? Less interesting than my apartment search.
So. I’m trying to be footbally. It’s a thing. I’m trying to feign adequate interest in Sunday. You guys know how I feel about the Pats, right? Miami girl, and all that. So I’m kind of just cheering AGAINST you guys. Which works out, because my super bowl date is a Giants fan.
So, in a good faith effort to care (and inspired by Jere- whoa. That rhymes!) I’m going to start a Super Bowl pool too. Guess the score in the comments. Whoever is the closest to the Sunday total, will win an amazing Paint creation by yours truly. It’s amazing. And you can print it out and put it on your fridge. Get crackin’.
Today has been ridiculously icky. Not only did I have to work (gahk. At least I didn’t fall into a deer carcass this time. See Twitter.), I had to teach my last class at Appalachian State University. I think I scared the bejeezus (that’s a word they use in Boone) out of the little dreamers and hopers. I might have told the little newsy hopefuls that their destinies included $18 k jobs and a lack of health insurance. Oh, and that stress and 80-hour work weeks would cause them to die alone of a heart condition with only the distribution of their underfed cats and a missed deadline to remind people they existed in the first place. You know. Unless that get a snazzy new biz journal job and a the promise of a snazzy new paycheck. But that probably won’t happen to you, I said. You are all too idealistic.
I must make myself pretty for my date tonight (I have a date. Yep. Now that I’m moving. I’m dating. That’s apparently how it works)- but you deserve news briefs. So, here.
And repeat after me- We DON’T need Roy Oswalt.
I’m thinking Alfredo Aceves will astound us all. Um. Maybe. Here you go:
Edwin Jackson dissed us officially. For – and this one will make you roll your eyes- THE NATIONALS. Whatever. $10 mill? Really? Whatever.
Some people say we should go after the Nationals reject now- John Lannan.
Lannan is a groundball pitcher who has never induced fewer than 50 percent grounders, and holds a career groundball-to-flyball ratio of 1.9. His FIP haven’t exactly been stellar despite this, as he’s been about 12 percent worse than the league in that regard over his career.
Um. I’d rather have Scut back.
Curt Schilling WON’T STOP TALKING.
This time he’s not talking about video games. Or the Red Sox. Traitor boy is talking Cubs.
“I would feel very comfortable putting a very large chunk of money that [a World Series title] would happen in the next five to 10 years. This guy is a game-changer from a baseball knowledge perspective. He is as smart, as aware as anyone I have ever been around, and I’m talking about game smart. The kind of smarts that generally have been associated with people who have been on the field.
“He understands the human element to this. A lot of what I learned from and about Theo I’ve taken into my company and tried to help my company grow. Theo gets it, and it’s not lost on the people who played for him. He’s the only general manager I ever played around who fit into the clubhouse. That’s a very dangerous thing for general managers, especially if they don’t fit. He was always welcome. He’s a very smart guy.”
Whatever. Thank you for 2004. Now go home.
So, Cubs. If Curt is right, you’ll get the WS. Whatever. We get your scout. Um. Well, we DO get your scout.
The Red Sox have hired one of former Cubs GM Jim Hendry’s top assistants to help out their major league scouting staff. He’s veteran scout Gary Hughes, who served as special assistant to Hendry before resigning in late September after Hendry was fired.
Hughes is 70-years-old. He scouted Tom Brady as a catcher. So. He’s old. And he recognizes good hair when he sees it.
And in news that makes the reporter in me cringe in utter heebee jeebees, New York Times Company lost like $40 katrillion (eeek!) and had to sell some of its Sox stock to an “undisclosed” buyer.
Let me repeat that parenthetical: EEEEEEK.
So, not only does some rich kazillionaire out there (hey, it could be Snookie people, you don’t know) own us, my industry is melting faster than a wicked witch in a rain storm.
I think my feelings can best be expressed through the dramatic David Grey classic, “Nightblindness.”
I really enjoyed Bleacher Report today. Read under-the-radar-free-agents-that-paid-off.
They give Aceves (my personal fav) a shout out:
For a mere $635,000 Alfredo Aceves probably provided the highest overall return on investment.
Seriously. In a year that brought us Crawflop and A-walktofirst-Gonzalez, Aceves was a rock star.
It was such a nice season that Aceves may have a shot at a spot in the Red Sox starting rotation this coming season. Even if he doesn’t start, another season similar to last year’s will net Aceves a considerable raise the next time his contract comes up.
I’d really, really, really like to see Aceves start. Over Bard. Just saying.
Troy O’Leary is another nice example.
In irritating news, our very own East Bound and Downesque Vincente Padilla may be delayed by LEGAL TROUBLE. An arrest warrant in Nicaragua (I have to interview someone in Nicaragua at 5!) for child support something could delay him getting back to the states. So it’s not even a nifty arrest warrant. Like for assaulting a Stankee.
And here’s something irritating. Theo’s now all roses that him and Cashman can be buddies. It’s all about the shirt.
“I was never able to totally relax because I felt like he was always lurking,” Epstein said. “He had a great sense of the marketplace.”
But now they can jog down the hillside and pick poppies together.
Brian Cashman and Theo Epstein said that after years of being on opposite sides of baseball’s most bitter rivalry, they are looking forward to being able to make deals with one another.
Oh- and Carl Crawford is now an accused swindler.
Somehow, I think Carl can afford the lawsuit.
Have a lovely Friday! Off to get pretty(er).
It’s JUST like this:
If you don’t love us, LET US GO, Roy Oswalt.
Roy Oswalt is still mulling offers. And we “still have a shot” with him. What-thefrick-ever.
I no longer care. This guy must have a bigger ego than Prince Fielder.
I get mulling your options. I do. But I’m not a fan of people who drag others along for their ride to nowhere-ville. I have girlfriends whose men (and I use that term lightly) pull the same shit, Roy. You, Roy, are not the bees’ knees. You are not Pedro Martinez. You are not Mike Lowell. And you are NOT (let me repeat) NOT Kevin Youkilis. So slide off your high horse and get back on the track with the rest of us. You can’t do that, can you? You have to occupy OUR Google news alerts with your “will he, won’t he” bull shit.
So, Roy Oswalt, on behalf of Red Sox Nation, I rescind the offer. You are no longer welcome in Boston. Go home and don’t let the door hit you in the cup on your way out.
I don’t know if you KNOW this, Roy, dear, but we had this little morale issue last year. We had a couple attitude issues. Some chicken. Some beer. You know. And this season? Well, it’s time for an attitude adjustment. It’s time to up the ante and get our heads in the game. And if your head isn’t in Boston, WE DON’T WANT YOU.
Stop building us up for rejection.
It’s like this:
HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE YOU TO MAKE A FRICKING DECISION? I spent less time mulling MY offers and I guarantee you that you’re BOTH ending up with more moolah.
See, we don’t need you. Because DICE-K WARMED UP IN A BULLPEN THIS WEEK!!!!
It’s on now, suckas.
Our ship is coming in. Oh, yes.
So grab a life vest.
PS- Speaking of irritation, our own big Papi may be sending us to an arbitration hearing. Blah. Whatever, I say. I’m just glad he’s on our boat.
What a beautiful day in Boone, North Carolina! The sun, Soxies, is shining. The temperature is NOT freezing. The mood? Chipper. That’s right. CHIPPER. All, my dears, is right with the world.
And the internet is complimenting my day. The internet NEVER does that.
See, in honor of the Super Bowl, Time Magazine recreated great New York vs Boston moments…
Like the 2004 ALCS!
It’s like Time Magazine said to itself, “how can we make Lauren’s already spectacular morning even more spectacular? Why, with a double dose of 2004 miraculousness.”
The Sox didn’t need extra-innings to win game six but rather starting pitcher Curt Schilling bravely playing through the pain of a torn tendon sheath to pitch the Sox to victory (it would forever be known as the bloody sock game). By now the Yankees were reeling and with Johnny Damon hitting a grand slam early on in the winner-take-all game seven, New York couldn’t recover and arguably the greatest choke in sports history was complete. The Sox became the first team in MLB history to lose the first three games and win a seven-match series. They didn’t lose another game, sweeping the St. Louis Cardinals in the World Series to finally end the 86 year-long curse.
So, see, Oswalt, I no longer give a frick what you do. Go ahead and meet with the fricking Rangers. It is of little consequence today.
And Delcarmen, I LOVE that you’re the Stank’s problem now. Good for you. Have fun.
And sure, Ben Cherington. Tell the world that our rotation is game ready. Go ahead.
Not even your extreme denial can bring me down today.
Because there are birds today, people. Birds. And they are singing and not shitting all over metaphorical cars. You know. Like hopes and dreams.
The shithawks? Not hovering around MY head.
Life is good.
PS- Are you my Twitter friend yet? Because you should be.