This year, the bunny’s bringing a broom…

I smell a sweep…

Live blogging will commence at 9 o-freaking-5… and we have company. In honor of that terrifying bunny-esque holiday, I am at my parents’ house. Enjoying icecream, clean blankets and the occasional car insurance lecture. But I’m also enjoying super cable.

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight’s game will be watched on an actual television screen. Not a laptop screen. A television screen. With my parents. (insert scary music here)

And… if you think -I- am an abrasive baseball watcher…

Well… it should be interesting.

The match-up: Dice-K. Hopefully, it’s the vintage Dice-K we caught a glimpse of last week. The 9-1 fury with that innocent expression that delivered the real-time smackdown.

Can’t wait.

But while we’re waiting, let’s talk trades.

I’m reading lots of internet conversation about Papelbon and Cameron possibilities. After Papelbon’s recent upswing, I’m hoping Theo’s got another thing coming…

I mean, I get it. Bobby Jenks. Bard.

But Theo, have you MET Bobby Jenks?

He. Does. Not. Jig.

What are your thoughts?

Clearly we need a catcher…

Who should we go after?

Who would you offer up? Hmmm…

——-

“I don’t think they’ll trade Papelbon,” Dad said. “Right now they need him.”

8:55. See how impatient we are in this household? The baseball convo has been going on for an hour. It’s interesting that they don’t seem to notice my laptop.

Ohmygod, Firedannyainge. The Easter bunny is the scariest mall model, hands down. Had to man a biz expo booth a few days ago and I could hear the screams from across the mall. It had red eyes. It kind of reminded me of Jorge Posada. But with bigger ears and less of a neck.

8:57. More icecream.

—-

Are you guys watching the Yankees game? It’s stupid.

—–

Now we’re having discussions about soccer. Parents are confusing. Is it 9:05 yet?

—-

Youkie-Bear is back!

Crap. Back to back homers in the Yankees game. This is crap. Trunkneck grosses me out.

—-

Now my father is explaining tome why HD is the bomb diggity.

He says he was watching HD the other day and a girl in the stands held up a sign with “will you marry me?” and a phone number. He said the camera kept shooting back to her with a “holy crap” expression on her face and lots of phone calls.

This, dad (aka mr. history) says is where when “the Red Sox were down by three runs, top of the ninth, american league division series… the angels were within one strike of winning the series. They had all the police officers lined up… everyone was about to jump over for the last strike and Henderson hits a homerun and the game is tied. And before you knew it, we won. And we won the series. That was 1986.”

Gosh, Dad, you’re old.

“and 1986 is when…”

Yeah, Dad, I know.

—-

9:09 “Any worries about his foot, that’s gone,” Dad said.

Smart base steal. Good description, announcer.

Yay, Pedroia. My mother just suggested I target him for marriage instead of Youkilis. “He’s married, mom.”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Mom?!”

—–

“Tell your boyfriend not to spit when he’s on the camera,” Mom said.

“He sweats more than anyone else on the team,” Dad said.

It’s okay, Youkie-Bear. You don’t have to listen to them.

There is controversy, great controversy in the TooSoxy Parental Household in regards to that “strike out.” 9:14.

“I wish they still had Beltre,” Dad said.

—-

Oh, TheCatcher, I hope you’re right about Bard… but I’m not seeing it as an asset that’s worth losing Paps… how will we boast our victories without the much-loved jig?

—-

Hi, Dice-K. Look at all that green behind Dice! Is there anyone at this game?! That Gordon Levitt kid would have been ashamed of ALL OF YOU,  Anaheim! Heaven can’t help you if you don’t believe!

Oh, I can’t watch this. Full count. Come on, vintage Dice… And… an easy catch by JD Drew.

“The key to the game is scoring better,” Dad said.

“That’s very insightful,” Mom said.

—-

Yankees are 13 now? What the frick, Buck Showalter?

—-

Yeah… this is the Dice-K pace. The efficiency of last week a distant memory… high pitch counts… Let’s just hope that the skill of last week continues. So far so good. The parents are still discussing the lack of fans in the bleachers. It is a little weak, heightened by the smarmy HD. The “A” kind of looks like it’s puncturing something. You know? Like, it’s not a halo, it’s a flesh wound. Would I have noticed that if this wasn’t HD? Anddddddd the Angels go down. Second coming up. Now we’re doing that super-not-annoying channel flip during the commercials thing. Flip. Flip. Flip. Nope. Not annoying at all, dad.

—-

Hey, Papi. You know, the A also kind of looks the Space Needle.

I never realized how dumb the A looked before.

“He’s my favorite,” mom said.

“Oh, the played him just right,” dad growls.

Out.

“We don’t care about y’all,” mom screams at the announcer banter.

Annnnnnddddddd ground rule double…. the Parentals rejoice.

SHUT UP CHUCK FINLEY!

Ew. These Angels close ups are grossing me out. Jered Weaver and his gum. Was it this gross in non-HD? I miss my small screen. Ew. Gagging. Ew.

—

“They’ve already shown him many times. Can’t we just watch the game?” Mom, re: Chuck Finley. There is much aggravation at JD Drew on the couch.

“You were three and o and you struck out,” dad yells.

I am the quiet one. Wow.

And the look my dad just gave Crawford.

“Crawford,” he huffed. It was more of a growl, really.

See, we don’t talk baseball on the phone, so I don’t really know how they feel about our 2011 team… but I’m starting to see that they are… um… passionate.

Off the glove and into the outfield! Yay, Crawford!

Lucky, they say.

Wow. I find myself defending Crawford…

—

“He’s one to twenty three? Why are you even worried about the guy at first base? The pitcher shouldn’t even worry about the guy at first,” Dad said.

Stop giving the Angels tips, dad.

It’s okay, Tekkie. I think you can knock it out of the park. Right here.

“If those announcers don’t shut up…” mom growls.

Hmmm….

“Oh come on! He didn’t go around! That’s two,” Dad said. And other things. We are not pleased with the umpires. Oh no.

Flipping the stations again. Good. Good. How long does this game last again? Oh good, the subject shifted to my car insurance. Good.

—-

“It never gets old talking to Chuck Finley,” Announcer said.

Really?! Really?

9:37. Dice-K with the game face on.

—-

I like this HD thing. I wonder if I could fit this television into my car. I wonder if they’d notice. I wonder if I can steal cable. I don’t mean that, thought police.

—

“He always looks like he has a stomachache,” mom says of Vernon.

—-

Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. I thought Dice-K was going to die. Right. At. His. Face.

Crawford catch makes two outs.

I’m glad you’re not dead, Dice-K. So is my mom. Dad wishes you would throw less balls.

Annnddddd STRIKE OUT. 9:46.

—-

Did you know there’s a Military Channel? Apparently that’s what we watch during commercials now.

Jacoby! Yay. Pedroia with his Destroia face on.

Andddddddddd a Jacoby steal. Love it.

Ohhhhhhhhh, Jacoby. You just gave me a mini spasm with the steal to third. A mini-freaking spasm.

Yessssss! Gonz, you are swell. And Boston, thanks to the base stealing dance by Jacoby… is two up. Here’s to taking opportunities!

Hi, Youkie-Bear. Did he just mouth “hi” to me? Did anyone else see that?

Okay. There’s some Youk hate going on in this room and that, Soxies, is unacceptable. He has a bruise, people!

Hi, Pappppppyyyyy. Nice. Left center field and we’re on first and third, baby. Lots of Sox cheers in the crowd. I’m trying to hear something… anything, a “go angels.” Can’t hear it through the “Let’s go, Red Sox” chanting.

Inning ends and we’re back to watching Sylvester Stallone on the Military Channel.

—-

Oh, yuck. Tom Brady’s in the crowd. I’m sorry, Pats fans, but that hair and my Miami heritage are two reasons I cannot endorse that..

Yuck.

—

What do you think of Tom Brady, mom? She purses her lips and narrows her eyes.

“I’m obviously not as impressed as our northern neighbors. But I do know where he lives,” Mom said. A little scary… um…

—-

Third strike out for Dice!

This guy has huge eyes. Like… huge eyes. Andddddd another strike out. Way to go, Dice KKKK.

And JD fricking Drew ends it.

—-

Top of the fourth. Drew taking a strike. I do not like the home plate umpire. Someone find me his name…

One, two, three. Crap.

—

Dice-Dice Baby…

Dad is vocally trying to help you, but I don’t think you need help today.

This pleases me.

Top of the fourth, two outssssssss…. and three outs.  Yay.

—-

My mother is critiquing the fanware. So that’s where I get it…

A great steal by Jacoby. Great. I will buy you two tacos for that steal, Jacoby.

You suck, 44!

But you know who sucks the most????? You, Home Plate Umpire!!!! I have counted four super bad calls. FOUR.
And THAT is why he’s my husband. Oh, Youkie-Bear. Thanks for doing that right over Bobby Abreu’s head, in particular. I hate Bobby Abreu.

Loveeeeeeeee.

 4-0, baby.

“He does sweat a lot, Lauren,” mom said.

“He does,” dad said.

“Maybe someone poured something on his head,” mom said.

Shut. up.

—–

Bottom of the 5th. Dice-KKKKKK. Did I say Dice-KKKKKK? I meant Dice-KKKKKKK. That was fast.

—-

5-0. Hi, Captain.

—-

Bottom of the 6th.

It’s gotten a lot more serious on the couch, I see. No time for fun in the 6th inning. Now we’re talking about how easy leads are to wreck.

Anddddd a stellar catch by Youk.

I hate Bobby Abreu. Dice, I NEVER condone hitting people with pitches. NEVER. But… um… if you were going to…

I didn’t mean that. Really, Dad, and you don’t mean it either.

Remember this? Almost two years to the date.

Two outs. I still hate you, Abreu.

Time to get serious, Dice, baby. Otherwise they’ll do something stupid like send us Jenks.

Yeah. Eat it, Abreu. Eat it and choke.

—-

Guys, guys, guys! I just checked the standings anddddddd… we’re not last anymore! Well… okay, we’re last… but so is Buck Showalter! BOTH of us have 8-11 records… which means… which means… if we win… we REALLY won’t be last! Huzzah!

Hey! I saw that! Did you see that? Santana’s trying to KILL my husband.

“Kevin has a knack for getting hit by pitches, 71 times,” announcer said.

Papi just gave him a death stare.

That’s right.

Crap. Youk is shaking his head. I’m with you, baby. I’m with you.

—-

“When the batter moves back thinking it’s going to hit him and it’s a strike, that’s a good pitch,” Dad said.

Dice, this is the first time I haven’t questioned you being in the 7th inning in… a long time.

So could you not screw it up? Thanks bunches.

Two outs. nobody on. Bottom of the 7th… exhausted. This house feels like it’s in a different time zone.

Annndddddd Dice-K’s 100th pitch is…. a…. a foul. Okay.

But it’s a one, two, three inning. Nice.

—-

“We need another insurance run,” Dad says. I like the way you think.

“I’d just like to see some homeruns to up their stats a little bit,” mom said.

Um…. yep.

Lowrie. Oh, Lowrie.

“He’s on fire,” dad said.

Apparently my Lowrie issues aren’t genetic.

AWESOME. Great job, Bobby Abreu.

Do it again!

And Crawford breaks the streak and causes a few expletives on the couch.

Hi, Tek.

Earn that C! Earn it! Look at those Boston fans in the background! They LOVE you. What a pretty day in Anaheim.

And the Captain nods. Come on, baby. Top of the 8th. The time moments are made. Crap.

Still 5 nothing. And still Dice? Um… okay.

—-

Just practicing “sweep” images.

You know. Just in case.

One out. Bottom of the 8th. A good strike call by the home plate ump against Kendrick. I’m amazed.

Oh… the announcer reminds us John Lackey’s at the mound tomorrow…

Two outs!

11:25 p.m. A girl with hair extensions is talking about an Angels calendar. So they can mark their shame with frowny faces?

Three outs!

—

Top o’the 9th.

Can you rally when you’re already spanking them?

Come on, Jacoby! Two runs scored, two stolen bases… and I want more!

You know, it’s interesting. Since we’ve been winning, my blog visitors have gone down. I thought this was curious until I saw the exorbitant amount of Yankees and Angels fans that have subscribed to this blog.

Seriously, more of you who read this hate the Sox than love them. It’s curious. It’s like… you guys like seeing me rant in frustration… but hate cheery pep.

Well, no more, people. The Sox are BACK. So it’s all positive from now on. So adapt.

Okay, Jacoby. I will forgive you this one time. Your hair looks terrible.

Hi, Pedroia. It’s time to play baseball.

Damnit, Pedroia!

Anddd… damnit. Three outs.

—-

Bottom of the 9th. I’m feeling a shut out… shut out? Yes, shut out.

And Bard? Well… okay… 99 mph fastball… well… okay…

Safe? BARD!

Okay, my dad (who is a tv photog) is now critiquing the base camera’s color correction.

Okay. Bobby Abreu. This is important, Bard. Okay. You don’t know this, but there’s history. Sordid, sordid history.

Defensive indifference? That’s crap.

“See? Look at how the sox look orange from that other camera behind the plate? The settings on that are wrong,” dad said.

But Bobby Abreu’s out? Oh so right.

Goes down swinging.

Last out. Come on, baby. Do it for Dice-K.

Do it for me. Do it for my father, who is quite invested in this game.

Do it for… YES! Pedroia! Pedroia will back you up during your weak moments, Bard. A diving play and a shut out.

Hi, Bobby Abreu. How did that feel?

And Crawford? Out of a slump? Um… okay.

But we won! Yay.

MLB! Update your fricking standings online! I want to bask!

Because, soxies, we are NOT in last place! We’re not the worst!  Huzzah!

OHMYGOD you guys! It’s better than we could have ever hoped. We are in THIRD PLACE. THIRD PLACE!!!!!!!

I mean, so is Toronto, but THIRD PLACE! And a FOUR streak! A FOUR streak!!!!!!!!

Click here and see for yourself. Kiss your computer screens and let the world feel the love.