Waking up to a win…

Feels good, albeit slightly strange, when you wake up to Game Day on your computer citing Bobby Jenks as a WINNING pitcher after the other day’s atrocities…

And an old school win in the final hours…

Happy thoughts and observations:

Beckett is back. There are haters. Doubters. Fluke sayers. And they are wrong. Beckett hurled out his third consecutive power appearance, albeit with a minor two-run slip-up. 2009 Beckett is back and he’s actually starting to look a lot like 2007 Beckett. Clearly someone followed my advice and killed the time machine. You’re never getting back to your world now, 2009 Beckett. Might as well enjoy the 2011 ride… And 125 pitches? Stellar anyway you slice it. No one can call you broken.

The Gonz is worth the G’s. Seriously. With a tie-breaking double in the 11th, Gonz ponied up an offense worthy of the questionable cash. It’s no longer questionable. Gonz has been consistently great or okay throughout an otherwise atrocious start for the Sox. It’s interesting, since we as a nation were wayyyyy more excited about the not-so-impressive Carl Crawford. Gonz, you’re part of the family and you’re already shining. With you at the plate I’m starting to feel that Mike Lowell confidence… and it’s a nice change from the, “sigh… Crawford again? Damnit”s we’ve been experiencing lately.

JD Drew. A spark? With a vital single at the end, we’re starting to see him do SOMETHING. I’m encouraged that our power hitter is in there somewhere. It just might take something drastic like shock therapy to get him out…

K-Youk. I’m concerned. Majorly concerned. And his bats were just starting to come around. Getting 2010 Pedroia flashbacks. If we’re going to be contenders, we need his old school consistency and fortitude. Even the haters have to see that. But Tito says he’s okay…

Jacoby. Just as fun to watch as ever. Pounding ’em through and wiping the bases. I said this before- this could be your year, Jacoby. He’s like old school Johnny Damon (but without the beard and with a soul), spry and fast, and this year he’s upping the power.

Speaking of dodging bullets- check out this little gem about the ownership that could have been…

Tonight’s another late doozy… don’t think I have enough caffeine.

~L

Stalemates are for chess…

So… I JUST got off of another 18 hour day (a lonely life, reporters lead) to find a 0-0 match up… and I’m without the energy to move from my sofa…

work legs…

Beckett’s stellar. Problem is… other guy’s pretty clean too. But we’re hitting, I see…

Ortiz due up, top of the 6th.

Okay, guys, what did I miss?

—

Ortiz on base… three balls for Lowrie… looks like someone’s getting tired, eh, Chatwood? Chatwood is a terrible name. They must have pummeled you in the 6th grade lockerroom, by the way. Oh. Sorry to bring up such painful memories. Strike one was outside. Awesome. Crappy umps followed us to Anaheim.

Awesome! First and second with no outs! Awesome! Andddddd… Carl Crawford at the plate. Crap. I hate saying “crap” to a hundred kazillion dollars. But crap.

Show us the magic, Crawford. Remember what you wrote in your diary?

Really?! What do you think about when you’re 0 for everything?

Okay. Sacrifice bunt. I guess I can’t fault you for that… I guess.

But maybe you should spend more time HITTING and less time JOURNALING!

DAVID ORTIZ DOESN’T JOURNAL!

Hi, Tekky-poo. 11:44.

Tek… strike out? Tek…

I’m going to get a drink.

—–

Runners at second and third. Help us, Jacoby Ellsbury! You’re our only hope. Remember that time you got us tacos? 11:45.

—

Yeah, baby! Single=better than tacos! It’s 2-0, thanks to some savvy base running by our boys. I like this, missing the crap part of the game and sliding in front of the screen just in time to watch the awesomeness. It’s like he knew I was watching.

Crap. That’s a lot of pressure. Because there’s no way I’m staying up this late for all the west coast games, Jacoby. Well… unless you ask me to…

Well, unless Youkilis asks me to….

—–

Caught stealing?! Us? Never.

That was a productive, lovely inning.

I wish my day was as productive as that inning.

—-

Let’s do it again! That was like a driveby of awesomeness.

Yeah. That clip was lame. But I’ve been writing about Medicare for the past two hours, so my brain is a-fried.

Hi, Josh Beckett. Beckster. Beckawesome.

Crap. That was you, Beckett.

Don’t let it happen again.

So they’ve got one on first. Big fricking deal.

11:52.

And an out later… and they’ve got one on second. Whatever.

—-

11:54. Crap. How did you get to third? Wait a minute… I know what you’re doing… two outs… that’s not going to work.

—

11:56. Oh, thanks be to Fisk that didn’t work. Three outs, kiddies…. Destroia at the plate to start the 7th. This is a mighty long game. But the last time I fell asleep we lost in the 8th…

By the way, I’m not the only one noticing the pattern- how Salty’s starts aren’t close to consecutive… think this means what I think it means? It’s interesting. They say Tek can’t possibly be a starter again… but what’s the solution? Really? Because Salty? That’s just too much sodium for our pitching staff.

11:59 p.m. They’ve changed to Takahashi (AWESOME NAME).

One on first…

OH MY GOD I HATE THE ANGELS! I just found out what they did to my husband of husbands, my precious Youkie Bear.

I wondered why Scut and Jed were doubleteaming…

This is greatly distressing. I am greatly distressed by this. A walk means runners at first and second. Runners out for vengeance.

No outs and Gonz at the plate? Exactly where I’d want to be if I was a baserunner.

Yikes. Scut up. One out. My new work friend Matt (<- see, firedannyainge, he has a name! he’s real!) is a Scut fan. As in… thinks Scut is capable of great things. Let’s see. Annnnndddddd STRIKE OUT. Hey, Papi…

Crap.

——

Top of the 7th…

And Beckster’s still launching bullets…Wow. That’s not the only thing he’s launching… Congrats, Beck!

Beckett’s offspring will be amazing. A rocket scientist as a mom. A rocket as a dad. Your child will be able to build a spaceship out of abc blocks.

12:15.

Okay, did you REALLY just walk one of my least favorite people in the world, Bobby Abreu? Did you REALLY just do that? I HATE Bobby Abreu.

NOOOOOOOOO….

Two run homer. 2-2.

It’s starting.

Damnit. I just feel like we’ve seen this movie before…

Yep… definitely saw this LAST SUMMER.

Crap.

It’s okay. It’s tied. And we have an out now. It’s going to be okay.

Alllll okay. 12:23.

8th inning… so sleepy. Must. Not. Go. To. Sleep. Am haunted by the last time I did that. Poor, poor Okajima. He was counting on me and I… fell… asleep.

Would jog in place or something, but stuck in couch. Legs won’t move. Will sleep here.

Carl Crawford. This is your moment. And he walks. Well, at least he’s on a base.

I WANT TO REACH THROUGH THE SCREEN AND DESTROY YOU FOR HITTING MY JACOBY.

Recovered. Good. Bases loaded. One out. JD Drew.

—

My temper is ridiculous when I’m tired. I think I just terrified the dog again. She disappeared.

Two outs.

Opportunities, people! Come on!

Pedroia. Please.

THAT is not what I meant.

And what is with the fricking umps over the past few games?

Don’t you people realize if you keep making bad calls we’ll stay tied and the GAME WILL LAST FOREVER?! 12:42.

—

Okay. Curt Young. Really. It’s time to pull Becket. EIGHT INNINGS. And he’s hurling them, Curt. HURLING them. And making me nervous…

I’m having a total Oakland flashback… maybe you’re right, Young. Maybe we should keep him out there…

—

One more out baby. One. More. Out.

OHMYGODIHOPETHEYSCOREINTHENINTHICAN’TTAKEMUCHMOREOFTHISGOINGTODIE

Okay. it is 12:52. I have to do it. I’m sorry, Oky. I’m sorry, Tito. But I have to.

I am going to… go to sleep.

Now I do this… trusting you. Trusting all of you.

Don’t let me down…

Goodnight, and please, please, please, please, please don’t STILL be tied when I wake up…

Let me know what happens, guys.

~L

Memories… Remember when booing John Lackey was cool?

The Red Sox rivalry with the Yankees is greatly stereotyped, appreciated on network television and reviled by fans of every other team.

But the Red Sox rivalry with the Angels? Unless you’re a Sox or and Angels fan, it’s widely underappreciated.

And there’s some history here. Some bitter, heart-wrenching history.

Like how, for a while, we couldn’t beat them. You know, unless the game was important. Like the playoffs. And then we could wipe the bases with them. It was like a mother who can pull a school bus off her toddler. Except instead of a school bus it’s a bunch of jerks in California.

Or Manny Ramirez, post season 2007 (my particular favorite), how he hits the homer, doesn’t even run. Just raises his hands. Lets it sink in. Lets the Angels’ tears flow, and then, ever so casually, hits the bases.

Remember 1986 (I was told about it), 2004? 2007? 2008? Etc…

Glorious.

Part, if not a majority of my anti-Lackey sentiment comes from Anaheim.

Part, if not the only reason I truly hate that Gordon Levitt kid comes from Anaheim.

Remember 2008 when bad ump calls and our lackluster offense caused an in-season smackdown?

I do.

Tonight, the rivalry begins again.

And I won’t be awake to see it. Stupid west coast games.

But you’ll tell me all about it, right?

~L

Interesting. Does he remind anyone else of Napoleon Dynamite in this clip?

A consumer not a sprayer? Wow. I’m glad the ridiculous interviews aren’t just a trend you started with us, “Big” John.

Oh… the Red Sox? How do you feel about playing them, Lackey?

He just said his favorite non Anaheim place to pitch is YANKEE STADIUM.

Did Theo watch the above clip before acquiring you?

Toasted wheat? Who CARES?! I don’t sound like that when I interview people, do I?

Oh. My. God. I want one.

And… Clay joins the club

Dear Haters,

See? We do know how to win a baseball game. Screw you. Especially you, Buck Showalter.

Love,

Lauren

I now present to you, Sox Nation, the newest member of the I-can-actually-do-my-fricking-job club, Claaaaaaaay Buchholz!

(pause for applause)

With a win under the belt of every single starter (f-fricking-inally), we’ve finally got that thing we didn’t have last week. Or the week before. You know? That thing called momentum? That thing the Orioles claimed to have that was ripped away like a pacifier (oh, you finally broke your L streak, Showalter!)?

It is… interesting to note that they DID outhit us on paper, 12-10. But we outscored them 5-3… A testament to our defense? Or a testament to A’s missed opportunities?

Just think… if the umps didn’t suck and Okajima didn’t suck we’d be at 5…

Sigh.

But, in the grand scheme of things, four games out isn’t a bad place to be. Let’s just not look at the pecking order, shall we?

Paps scared me a little bit tonight. I’m going to be honest… and the A’s let off the kind of rally that, if it had happened earlier, might have changed the peppy tone of this entire blog… when you play Bard early, you start running out of pitchers, Young. It’s interesting when your weakest starting pitcher of the week is Clay Buchholz… who, all in all, did his damn job… I think that’s a pretty great thing, actually. So eat it, haters.

So what we have trust issues with our bullpen and doubts over the 100 katrillion dollar man (Crawford). So what we’re in last place in the ALE. So, fricking what?

We’re all about positivity today at Too Soxy.

—

All in all, today was a great way to celebrate Fenway day.

A perfect prelude to my second least favorite team… the Angels. Dah-dah-dah… Something wicked this way comes…

Seriously. It’s a movie that’s totally about the Angels. I see it.

—–

In other news, there’s this nasty rumor that the Cubs threw us the Series in 1918. Read this.

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

“They didn’t make much money,” said Sean Deveney, a reporter with The Sporting News whose book, “The Original Curse,” said a fix by the Cubs was likely. “They had the incentive to do something like that.”

And no one’s alive to ask!

I don’t buy it.

~L

Really, Okajima? Okajima, crappy umpires and a fizzled streak

Whatever you do… DON’T FALL ASLEEP.

See? See what happens when you sleep and miss the last inning?

Damn it, guys! I am never leaving you in charge again, K-Youk!

Blast. Foiled again.

But John Lackey didn’t totally suck… so there’s that… and, while one streak crumbles, the streak of saying silly things to reporters continues…

Lackey was less than pleased this week after his previous start was skipped — the result of a rainout last week — and felt he could’ve gone another inning Tuesday.

Shut up, John Lackey! Less then pleased? Prior to yesterday I was “less than pleased” with your existence on the mound. And every inning you’re on the damn mound stresses me out.

But the person I am most DISPLEASED (see, that’s how you say less than pleased with less words) with is you, Okajima. I’m not happy with you either, Wheeler. But Oky. What. the. frick. And the bottom of the 8th? Of course. As soon as Lauren goes to sleep, let’s magnify our suckage.

I guess I should thank you. Had I seen that, I probably would have had worse dreams than the Matsui nightmare (he’s coming to get me! he’s coming to get me!).

Good points: Tito gets ejected. That’s always fun. And by defending Pedroia. No better way to go.

Here’s a reenactment:

“The rule is that you can’t deceive. I mean, he went two different directions,” Francona said. “Started toward the plate, changed his mind, landed toward the plate. For me, it was a balk all the way.”

Me too, Tito. Me too.

I don’t know, man . . . I don’t know,” said Pedroia, shaking his head in disbelief after the game. “I thought it was pretty obvious. I think I was yelling mid-run. It’s hard to believe they couldn’t see that.

“That’s upsetting. That [should have been] a runner on second with Adrian up; instead, [Anderson] throws a nasty pitch and Adrian strikes out and he keeps rolling. It makes it tough.”

I would have been for sure ejected at the Ellsbury out. Because that was ridiculous. I’m surprised all of my couch cushions are still in good condition. The icing on the cupcake of crap the umps were baking last night.

Let’s see… more good news…

Well… we didn’t lose BECAUSE of Lackey. That’s something. Now if Clay can pretend to get his act together, we’ll have a decent shot of doing SOMETHING with our starting rotation.

But seriously- the biggest losers last night? The umpires. Worst calls I’ve seen in awhile.

Thoughts?

How do you feel about Lackey … um … not entirely sucking?

Because I feel there’s a disturbance in the force…

~L

Damnit, Okajima…

Now I’m tired AND in a lousy mood.

And I’m not entirely convinced Young’s not a double agent.

The streak

The streak.

It is 9:22. And I just got off a 15 hour day. And I have another one tomorrow. This means there’s no way I can humor California long enough to watch a game that starts at 10:05. I just don’t have it in my to watch John Lackey crumble under-

(inserting the optimism)

I’m sure they will do just fine without me!

Yeah. I’m kind of afraid I’m not going to be able to sleep.

Dear John Lackey,

Hi. Hope your commute was spiffy. Hope you found your uniform all nice and pressed in the locker room.

So.. um… Let’s talk about the other day.

We both said some things we… um… didn’t mean.

I said you sucked. And… um… I’m… I’m sorry.

You don’t suck. Not… um… really.

You certainly don’t suck the life out of every game with your total and complete suckage.

You certainly don’t completely ruin sunny days with your blatantly protruding lower lip and poor, poor pitch execution. You certainly don’t remind me of that ogre character from the Goonies. What was his name again? Sloth. That’s right. You certainly don’t remind me of him.

And I certainly didn’t mean what I said about you riding a clowncar on a highway of broken dreams.

I’m not really good at apologies. So I’d like to defer to John Cleese for this one.

So… um… we’re cool, right? I can… I can wake up in the morning, and we’ll be okay, you and I? You won’t completely and totally screw this up?

Because there’s this streak, see. And it’s not just any streak. It’s a hot streak.

And… um… it means a lot to me John.

You do this for me… if you do this one thing for me… I’ll… I’ll… forgive you, John. I’ll let the past stay in the past. And we can finally move on. You and me. I’ll try to open my heart to love again.

Sincerely,

Lauren

PS- Please don’t suck.

PSS- Frank, the anti-baseball fan but Goonies expert, contributed to this report.

—–

First inning. Oh god. It’s starting. 1-0 A’s. I can’t watch this… I can’t…

Oh god…

turning off my computer. NOW. 10:24 p.m.

—-

11:10. Just a small peak. Just one… god knows what I will find…

Whatttt???? Top of the 5th? stil 0-1? Not what I was expecting. I was expecting to see a different pitcher and a score like 11-1, A’s.

Hmmm… Curiouser and curiouser… I have to sleep now.

I’m too confuzzled to sleep…

Going to sleep.

—-

Hmmm… strike out for Crawford. Well… the universe isn’t entirely out of balance. Really going to sleep now. 11:13.

—

John Lackey! Damnit! We talked about this! Walk no one!

Crap. No, I am really going to sleep now. Really-really. For a second I thought… but then… sigh…  11:20. Two on base. Cliff batting. Coco on deck (I still want him to have his own cereal). Sigh.

——

Okay, Young. It’s time to pull him in. Okay? If you let him load the fricking bases with walks, I’m going to KNOW you’re a double agent. 11:22.

—–

Three outs. Awesome. Okay. I see what you were doing there, Lackey. You were testing me. Maybe getting even for the little dig about Sloth (like you haven’t heard that before). I get it. Haha. Very funny. You’ve had your laughs.

(Young, time to bring in Bard. Please do NOT bring in Bobby Jenks. I mean it, Young. If I wake up and find out Bobby Jenks has screwed this up for everyone, I’ll… I’ll… I’ll… um… I’ll write you a nasty letter)

11:25. going to bed.

Crap. Salty! Didn’t I read an article today about how you were getting your groove back? Like Stella?  Out. Crap.

Okay, offense. Time to step it up. Pick up the Slackey. <- get it? I am hilarious.

Damnit Coco! It kind of feels good to say that. But DAMNIT COCO!

And McD’s out. Up to you, Jeddy boy. And don’t. Get. Injured.

11:28.

Let him walk you buddy… just let him walk you… we’ll walk to home if we have to, you and I…

CRAP.

And… John Lackey’s back…. um… great…

11:30 p.m.

I see it. I am like that woman in Troy. You know, the woman who saw the walls fall in a vision and no one believed her? I see Lackey falling in this fricking inning. Come on, Young. It’s time.

Cassandra! That’s her name. I’m like the Red Sox’ Cassandra.

One out. Good… DeJesus. I like your name. Your fans must have fun swearing.

Crap. Ball. Ball.

Crap. I wish I wasn’t so awesomely prophetic.

And it’s a single. Flipping fantastic. It’s because Jesus is in his name.

Okay. Two outs. Okay… Calming. Breathing. At one with the sofa.

Matsui?! Where did you come from? Yikes! I forgot they sent you to California! Matsui scares the DeJesus out of me. Really. He has that scary pockmarked pirate thing going on. If you don’t believe me, watch old school Swiss Family Robinson. I swear he’s a pirate in that movie. Oh no. If I go to sleep now I’m going to have a Matsui nightmare. He’ll be coming up the hill with a cutlass, trying to kill me and my family because we’re on “his” island. And there will be zebras and ostriches and a pit with a tiger.

Andddddddd out.

—-

DeJesus, that was close. Stressfullllllllll. 11:38. Why am I not asleep?!

—

Damn. Coco just took out Pedroia. Do you remember when Coco sucked? And we’d do the “Coco” fist shake, followed by the “Lugo” fist shake? Those were the days… 11:41.

Thanks for that, Brett Anderson. Gonz is tearing it up. Well, he’s on a base.

That’s swell.

Crap. Never mind.

—

Why is John Lackey’s picture still up? Why is he still… risky, Tito… risky…

Top of the 7th. I smell a Paps 9th.

Okay, guys. Get. It. The Frick  TOGETHER. Comprende? <- Gonz, translate for everyone else.

Really, kids. If JOHN FRICKING SLACKEY can pull his FRICKING weight around here, well then, DeJesus! There’s no reason why you can’t step it up a notch. Especially you, Crawford. Weren’t you listening to Kurt Russell in the Miracle? This is YOUR time. Their time is DONE.

11:45.

I have that “I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts” in my head. “diddledeedee”

I am going to bed.

Dan Wheeler! Fresh from the cinema, no doubt. Here to redeem himself for so many sins.

And… I actually kind of maybe mean that John Cleese apology from earlier, Lackey. You didn’t totally suck. But you threw a lot of balls. And you stressed me out.

I don’t know if Lackey should pitch late games. He. Is. Stressful.

But… um… I guess we’re cool now. Maybe. And… um… I guess… I won’t call you Sloth anymore…

Yeah, baby! Go Wheeler, Go!

Strike out! Nice one, Wheeler.

See that, K-Youk? Rally the troops. We’ve got ourselves a game, kiddies!

Bed. Really. Tell me what happens. Wake me up if Pap dances, k? 11:50 p.m.

—-

STRIKEOUT!

Okay. Really. 11:52.

Come on guys, finish it. Two runs. Give me two runs. Or three. Or you know. Whatever.

It’s like midnight. I am going to turn into a pumpkin. Or something. I’m really tired, guys. Play faster.

Okay, Crawford. Life is full of moments. This is yours. Take it.

BTW- What’s with the ump calls tonight? Bad A’s umps! Baaaaaad.

I’m awake! What just happened? I blinked for a second and… a hit? Crawford? A hit?

DeJesus, Crawford! I’m sorry I missed your moment.

Hey, Salty, don’t screw it up.

12:04 p.m.

Okay. This sounds ridiculous since we’ve literally got like an inning to go… but I’m passing out. Can’t… do… this… any more…

Someone keep an eye on the game for me, k? Make sure they win? Thanks. And blow a few kisses at K-Youk. He likes it when I do that.

Holy crap, Salty’s on a base.

No pressure, McD- but if you’d just homer…

No pressure… except all the pressure of a HOT STREAK…

Old McDonald had a farm. Eeeeiiiiiiieeeeeiiiiiiioooooooo.

Come on, McD! What noise does a winner make?

Crap.

—-

I don’t know if it’s this confusing weird ass game… or just my long, long, long super long day… but I can’t move. I see my hallway… I can mentally count the steps between here and my bed… yet here I sit…

stymied…

12:13 Hi, Danny Boy.

Crap. A double.

See, if I were asleep, I wouldn’t have had to watch that. You’re lucky you got out when you did, FireDannyAinge. Do you have a real name?

Coco. Your hair is… um….

Your cereal would be a lot like that Sugar Bear cereal. Do you remember that? I can’t remember what it was called. Sugar crisps? Something like that? But it would have coco powder and more sugar. Because it would be called Coco Crisps. Let’s face it, Coco. It’s the only way you’re going to get on a cereal box. I don’t see Wheaties putting the moves on you.

Okajima. Hi. My blurry eyes just recognized you. I hope you’re better. Are you better? 12:18.

I do NOT like where this is going, Oky. Fix it. Fix it now.

My head hurts. Did you do this, Coco? That’s right. Sit down and think about what you’ve done. And think about that cereal idea. It’s golden.

—

Oh no. 2-0. Oh no.

OKAJIMA!

K-Youk, I hope you’ve got everyone pumped in the dugout. Because it’s time for the oldschool ass kicking rally.

Pedroia- prep the camp songs!

If we can make it there alive… OKAJIMA, STRIKE HIM THE FRICK OUT ALREADY.

Blearyeeeeeyyyyeeeed

Runnin’ just as fast as we can…

Oky, let’s move it along, okay, homeslice?

OKY! I didn’t mean walk him. Frick double frick.

Another Cassandra moment. This could get bad ugly.

Speaking of ugly, you cannot tell me that Matsui isn’t terrifying. I am terrified.

Okay. Here’s what I’m going to do. I am going to sleep. That way, I have something to look forward to in the am, see, the rally we’re going to have in the 9th. Right, Youkie-Bear?

After the day I’ve had with the amount of sleep I’ve been getting… I can’t handle a 9th inning that doesn’t include a rally… so… on the off chance the streak ends tonight… I won’t have to be there for the painful details… Okay. Really doing it…

Hey, Youk… Don’t let me down… <- to the tune of “Hey Jude.” It’s this thing we do, Youkie and I…

Love to the nation. I can’t take this anymore.

A bientot!

Papi in HOF? A Sox update

Thoughts for the road assembled from today’s news (of course, the big news is, we’re on a hot streak- shazaam!):

At least we’re not discussing Johnny Damon’s ego today.

First on the docket: Big Papi! Will being a DH (regardless of how kickass) keep him out of Cooperstown? Think he’ll ever get the numbers?

Thoughts?

Next up: I found this little gem- an article on Sox “shenanigans” in obtaining the Gonz. Guess where it was written? New York.

“It’s a clear pattern of behavior designed to skirt their responsibility to Major League Baseball’s financial well being and skew the sport’s competitive balance.” ~Russ Cress

Better news: Isn’t it nice that sportswriters are starting to argue about who has the BEST era on the Sox instead of who sucks the most? I’m betting on Lester. I think he’s off to a rocky start but that this is going to be his year.

———-

The Sox are on the road today. And, however they relax, whether it’s a bubble bath or a movie, they’ve got a lot of time to do it! The game doesn’t start until after 10 p.m.

Three games in and we’re on top of the world.

Nothing can bring us off this streak!

Crap.

Dice and Beck’s excellent adventure.

So, as I was explaining to my blogger bro earlier- I’ve figured out what happened today. It’s just so obvious! I don’t know why we didn’t think of it before. So… ahem…

(Imagine that’s Dice-K and Josh Beckett and not Bill and Ted)

2011 Dice-K discovered the time machine Josh Beckett built (explains a lot about the rocket scientist wife, doesn’t it?).

Josh Beckett’s like, “You can’t prove anything.”

And Dice-K (“haltingly, through a translator”) is like, “Can too. And I’m going to tell everyone you’re really 2009 Josh Beckett!”

(evil laugh)

And Josh Beckett is like, “No one will believe you!”

And Dice-K is like, “Of course they will! I have a baseball card with your ERA!”

And Josh Beckett (the 2009 Josh Beckett) starts to freak out.

And Dice-K is like, “Don’t freak out, 2009 Josh Beckett. I’m sure we can come up with a solution that will work for everybody.”

And 2009 Josh Beckett is defeated, and he’s like, “What do you want from me?” <- but in a dramatic voice.

And Dice-K is like

(evil laugh)

“A trade… bring back pre-World Baseball Classic me and send 2011 me to somewhere nice.”

“Somewhere nice?”

“Yes, somewhere nice. Like the south Pacific.”

And 2009 Josh Beckett is like, “How about Hawaii? That’s where I sent 2011 me.”

And Dice is like, “Sure. Why not?”

But 2009 Josh Beckett didn’t send Dice-K to Hawaii.

Now (um… then), 2011 Dice-K and Josh Beckett have fantastic adventures back in time. With dinosaurs and ape people and the Marshall family. Always trying to get back home.

And that’s what happened.

Someone, quick! Destroy the time machine so they can’t come back!

—–

I have an alternate theory. Maybe Farrell is a double agent…

On a semi-related note, another reason I’m in love with Kevin Youkilis- he’s got your back. Even if you’re scarily unreliable Dice-K. (Eating those words as I’m typing them) Nobody puts Dice-K in the corner. (anymore)

—–

You know who shouldn’t talk to reporters? Curt Young. He’ll say something like this:

“he’s a guy that has such great command. I don’t think there should be any issues.”

Who’s he talking about? Beckett? Nope. Lester? Nope. Dice? Nope. Buchholz? Nope.

JOHN FRICKING LACKEY.

I know, I know. I’m already eating words where it comes to Dice- but there’s a difference. I’ve always liked Dice-K. I thought he was broken.

John fricking Lackey isn’t broken.

He just sucks.

See the difference?

So offense, you’re going to have to pick up the slack. No amount of fairy dust and clapping is going to help this one. Youkie-Bear, I’m leaving you in charge. We have an official win streak. Do. Not. Screw. It. Up.

It’s interesting. I questioned how switching Dice-K one day would make a difference. Tito, I will never question you again. At least for the rest of this blog post.

~L

Dare to dream?

Can it be that the clapping and chanting of “I believe in Dice-K,” “I believe in Dice-K…”

Can it be that they worked?

That dreams really do come true?

Because… um… we’re approaching the top of the 6th and… he’s… um… kicking ass? Dice-K. Dice-K is kicking ass. Like… um… really…

I don’t… I don’t know how…

I mean, I live in a world of constants. It’s how I, we, humans achieve balance. The sky is up. The grass is on the ground. The sky is blue. Dice-K is broken.

But… if Dice-K isn’t broken…

What… how… why…

What other constants are skewed? Where is the sky today? Does this mean Nicholas Cage CAN act? Oh. My. God.

Up is down… down is up…

I’m… HAPPY?

with… um… Dice-K?

Does this… does this mean John Lackey doesn’t suck?

Am I over-analyzing because I’m sleep deprived, at work, and can only catch game day updates?

Oh, universe, you confuzzle me. Thanks.

I don’t know about you, but I’m willing to ride the insanity…

~L

PS- Dice-K… I am… considering… opening my heart to you. My heart has been broken before….

PSS- Seriously. I’m not actually drunk. I am at work. So, “Drunken Live Blogging” is kind of a lie.

PSSS- A lot can happen in three innings. I’m terrified it’s all going to be ripped away, like how god ripped away this guy’s cheeseburger over the weekend.

1 p.m. – Who else is fricking stunned that THEY had a pitcher change before we did?

I’m walking on sunshine. Literally. I can’t figure out which way is up. How am I supposed to concentrate on work now?

I want to watch this. I really do. But I’ve been hurt before. I don’t know if I’m strong enough. Fortunately, I have a meeting in fifteen minutes. World, universe? Will you still be here when I get back?

The walls themselves do tremble…

Until my meeting lets out…

Dmitri, since I know you’re watching, can you make sure they don’t screw this up? Thanks. Thanks…

—-

1:55 p.m. 9-1. 9-1. I… I… I don’t know what to say. And… Crawford… he… god help us, he… hit something? The diary… it… worked… (have you seen it yet? you should)

I get back from my meeting to… good news?

And the pitcher that messed up the shut out was… not Dice-K? It was Wakefield?

I’m going to need time. Serious time to process this. These are powerful, unpredictable forces…

1:57 p.m. We… won? We… won. We won!

It’s a Patriots Day miracle!

The elephant on the mound

The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Two games high with a fire-breathing obstacle in our midst:

Dice-K.

And, while it may just seem like two games to YOU, to a battered and bruised Sox nation, it’s an eternity. And it’s a long way down.

Dice-K is all that stands between the nation and what COULD be its first series take in 2011.

The United States versus Canada.

The south versus the North.

Good versus Evil.

Too harsh?

What used to be our secret Japanese weapon, however, has become the elephant-in-the-bullpen. The big, pouty, crazy pitchin’ elephant.

(Did that scene terrify anyone else as a child?)

And, while elephants make great Disney movies, they don’t make great pitchers.

So what to do… what to do… pack it up? Retreat to our dugouts like Tampa did in that World Series that one time? Whine, cry and sneer like Johnny Damon did that one… um… ALL the time?

No.

We do what all good Americans do. We compensate.

Only, instead of increasing our tire size or buying gas guzzling SUVs and relaxing our lower jaws in a Vin Diesel sneer, we’re going to bat like hell. Bat. Like. Hell.

You hear me, K-Youk? This isn’t a time to back down from that bee dance you do at the plate. And you, Jacoby! Steal like you’ve never stolen before. And Dustin, baby, you knock them out of the park!

Gonz! Drew! Step the frick up. Lowrie! Don’t get injured!

And Crawford… um… intimidate them with your …. um … Look for the walks!

If we all work together, maybe no one will notice that we’ve draped an elephant over the mound.

Now back to that elephant…

Dice, baby. You’re 6-1 against the Blue Jays. SIX to ONE. But with a Fenway era since your last win of 9.36… you’re broken.

How can we fix you?

Do you need a hug? How about a cookie? A Hallmark-esque greeting of encouragement? Or maybe, just maybe, we should clap our hands together as a nation. You know? Like how Peter Pan saved Tinker Bell?

I do believe in Dice-K. I do believe in Dice-K…

Did… did it work?

Dice-K?

Quick! Someone find more fairy dust.

Maybe if you say it too… maybe if we all say it together…

“We do believe in Dice-K. We do believe in Dice-K.”

Humor me, okay? Say it out loud

Oh, don’t give me that. We’ve all told lies before. Don’t think you’re special.

Say it again. I think it worked. It felt like it worked.

I guess we won’t know until tomorrow…

Say it a few more times before you go to work, k? Just in case.

~L