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Really?! Really?
AGAIN!? To the fricking WHITE SOX?
Okay. So. Um. It’s always frustrating. You know. To play THIS BADLY against a team THIS SUCKY.
It felt horrible with the fricking Orioles.
It felt horrible with the fricking Rays.
It feels HORRIBLE with the fricking Sox.
Maybe the baseball gods are confused about their colors.
THAT IS NOT RED, BASEBALL GODS.
What is red? My anger. Coursing. Through. My veins.
So, I can’t actually watch this game, thanks to the wonderful world of journalism, but I can for the next ten minutes. Ohmyfrickinggod.
While I’m working tonight, could ONE of you do something?
Seriously? When I tell you to hit the damn ball, I’m not telling you to give it a fricking high five. I am telling you to knock it out of the fricking park.
Now that we have that clarification…
I’m too angry to watch this. I am going to spend my break watching the Bachelorette.
Okay. Not really. But I AM TEMPTED.
Damn it.
L
I better come back to this and see some mad rallying. OR ELSE.
—-
9:48
How many times have we had to fall in love all over again?
It’s like that. We say we hate them.
Like this: I HATE YOU, RED SOX.
And we come back. And they KNOW it. That’s why they do this to us, FDA. And we let them. Because, like a battered wife, we keep coming back.
So, I HATE YOU, RED SOX (not you, Jason Varitek).
But… sigh… tomorrow I’ll be back…
THIS is why Israel doesn’t give in to terrorist threats, people.
God help me.
God help us all.
Wait… what’s that? 6-10? A score? A score during my rant? What?
Dare I… is that… could it be… hope?! Don’t do this to me Soxies. Don’t do this… do it quick… do it quickly…
Oh… cruel, cruel hope…
—
A DOUBLE?! Sutton? OHMYGOD. Run faster! Oh… we could do this? We could do this! 2 outs, baby. 10-7. Oh… daring to dream… this is really going to hurt, isn’t it?
Oh God… please… whatever happens… make it quick…
—
10 p.m. … Gonz. Please?
No. No. Noooooo.
Damn it. I hate you ALL.
—
10:03 p.m. My feelings can best be expressed by Bonnie Rait. And this bottle of Keystone Light. Which doubles in my apartment as a microphone AND a tasty treat. But you can’t see me dancing on my couch right now, so you’ll have to use your imagination. And in your imagination, my voice should sound EXACTLY like this. Oh. And my hair too. I could totally pull this off.
Have a heart, Tito… And I will have another microphone. Um. Beer.
10:08.
And, while I’m Youtube ranting…
You! Alfredo Aceves! That’s right! I’m talking to YOU, FREDO.
You. Broke. My. Heart.
And YOU, Carl Crawford. I. Thought. We. Were. Friends.
I can’t even look at you.
KEYSTONE LIGHT IS DISGUSTING.
—
10:15. Papi. I don’t know what we would do without you. Don’t ever go away.
I hate you, Aceves.
Keystone Light is so cheap. This cost me like eight dollars.
—
It’s like you poison my coffee a little each day.
That’s from a song.
It’s from this song.
I am too mad too sleep. And too incoherent from a 15 hour day to make sense.
This is YOUR fault, John Lackey.
I mean. Um.
Okay. I’m going to sleep.
Maybe.
—
You know what I like about Keystone Light?
It has like, absolutely no taste. It’s crisp. You know? Like Miller Lite? And it is like $8 or something.
—-
Another stinker for the Red Sox.
Hah. YOU’RE ANOTHER STINKER.
I didn’t mean that.
Hold me.
—
The Yankees! The Yankees could lose! And then we would be tied.
—
And another thing.
John Lackey.
—-
Bottom of the first. 2-0. Really, Athletics? WHY ARE YOU THIS BAD?
I can’t. I can’t watch this.
I need more Keystone Light.
I am going to make a can pyramid. My new apartment needs artwork.
ACEVES!
I’m okay…
—
10:27. If the Bruins do not win tomorrow I will:
1. cry.
2. write a fionaappleesque song about how much i hate hockey.
3. cry.
4. swear off sports and do something girly. like watch the bachelorette.
5. cry.
6. throw a temper tantrum that includes the destruction of that record player i have that does not work but does take up space.
7. drink keystone light.
8. write letters to timmy in an accusatory tone.
9. cry.
10. torment everyone in my neighborhood with my cathartic parking lot scream ritual.
11. tear up this pillow.
—
I am on the Yankees site checking their score obsessively- and look at this little gem about A-roid’s overratedness.
Oh hah.
It is 2-1. Stankees. By the way.
—-
Hmph. SOMEONE just said that I should stop “drunken blogging.” That I’m “better than that.”
I am TIPSY blogging, thank you.
And, no I am not!
But I am sleepy.
So. Yeah.
Damn.
Stupid Yankees. Someone stay up and tell me if they lose!
So we lost. It could be worse.
It could be worse.
And, curses! It WILL BE.
That’s right. Everyone’s worst gamble, Bobby Jenks, has SOMEHOW finagled a return today. With our history of keeping irritating players around FOREVER (ahem, Lugo, ahem), this should surprise no one.
Now, if this had happened yesterday, we would have said, “drat, but at least we’re in first with a cushion.”
Today, however, there is no cushion. Not even the threadbare straw kind. Today, you see, we’re tied. Again. With the damn Yankees.
So… Bobby. Oh, Bobby. Your goatee looks nice today and doesn’t make you look like a prick at all…
Will flattery work on you?
Screw up and I will… I will… I will do something. Something tantrumy.
Am I just being too negative? Maybe I’m just being too negative. I mean, remember that one time I was negative and then John Slackey actually pulled one out? You know, before returning to miserable, miserable mediocrity?
I mean, this negativity isn’t helping anyone.
So, Bobby. Bobby Jenks. Let’s take another look at you. A fresh perspective. An unbiased look at-
God help us all.
No, no, no. Looks aren’t everything. It’s about the game. And hey, here’s an article where the White Sox aren’t exactly happy to see their old teammate. That’s got to be a good sign, right? Fearing the return of a power player…
Oh. It looks like he just annoyed them so much they don’t want to see him again.
Hard to figure.
Crap.
Well, there’s always Wednesday.
Thoughts? Am I just paranoid? Or is Jenks the time bomb I think he is? We’ll find out…
~L
Peavy. We meet again.
See, this is a special game for a North Carolina Red Sox fan. Well, a Charlotte-area North Carolina Red Sox fan. Well, for me.
Because when the White Sox were testing out Peavy, they tested him out in Fort Mill with the Charlotte Knights. And I was there. And it was awesome.
Many of you know my turncoat status when it comes to triple A. Lived in Charlotte. Needed baseball. Knights (a White Sox affiliate) gave me my fix.
Wore a Knights hat. Drank cheap Knights beer. Snuck in cheap food. You know. Like a real fan.
But… when the Paw Sox came to town… wore my real sox gear, hung out with my real sox friends and shunned the Knights, their fans, their merchandise and their foam fingers (did not shun their beer).
(See what a great Turncoat I am?)
So, even though I cheated on the home team every chance I got, I still have a special place in my soul for the White Sox. You know, in honor of those two years I spent in Charlotte and the baseball comfort they brought me on those thirsty, thirsty Thursdays.
Now that I’ve poured my soul out to you, there’s one last thing to say.
Pulverize ’em, Lester!
Silly White Sox thinking they can pink up our lineup. Get it? Because white and red makes…
Yeah… still recovering from the dresser fiasco. I have a bruise. It’s dramatic and stuff.
~L
PS- Most hilarious baseball related blather of the day? Click here to read about why Tampa Bay had to issue a weekend apology to its fans…
One down… a… sweeping victory?
Not yet. One game… victory. And a sweet Papi-esque stomp at that. Exactly what I was in the mood for.
But this game?
Blah. Who does this Verlander guy think he is? Verlander kind of sounds like Highlander. There can be only one.
It will be Beckett. Right, guys? Now, I’m just tuning in, (officially 100 percent moved! huzzah! but my back and brain hurt) so I’m not altogether clear on the drama…
But 4 hits to our 2? 2 runs to our… none? What’s going on, guys?
And Detroit… you’re starting to play. Did the rain give you super powers? Was it like, radioactive rain? Like the kind of rain that turns geeks like Peter Parker into spiderman?
Oh. That was a spider bite. It says so here on wikipedia.
But I’m sure there was a super hero in comic book world that got that way from acid rain.
Thanks, Google. But that is not what I meant….
Maybe it was Captain Planet.
Ohmygod I loved that show.
Josh Beckett could so be Captain Planet. You know. If Josh Beckett was green and relied on magical electricity from jewelry.
Josh Beckett. He’s our hero. He’s going to take Detroit down to zero…
This beer feels great. Like, really great.
Like, Lauren’s body was melting away like… like… acid rain? And this beer put her together again.
So, I lifted this gigantic dresser up my stairs today. I need to take a picture of these stairs and show you. Even someone with amazing shoulder muscles like Kevin Youkilis would have trouble He-manning these stairs.
I had help. An editor at my paper and I broke my wall (kind of), our faces (almost) and our dignity to get this thing up a narrow, narrow staircase, through a loft and into a bedroom.
It was dramatic.
See, Beckett, if I could do that, you could win this game for us.
The dresser>Detroit.
Like, really.
When I have the strength to push a button on a camera, I will totally show you.
Speaking of strength, this beer is strong.
It’s mocha stout from Highland Brewing Company! <- A North Carolina brewer.
This Verlander guy is smarmy. Can’t you tell? He has a swagger. Swaggers are stupid. He should drink a highlander. It would help with his swagger. Then he would be Verlander. With a Highlander. Working on his swagger.
Hah.
I am going to walk my puppy. Drink another beer. And splash cold water on my face like eight times.
I. Will. Be. Back. It is 9:46. Please do not let them do anything dumb.
—-
10:19. Painful… Where is our offense? Maybe they moved dressers today too. I hear it takes a lot out of you…
10:48. Damn.
Rain… okay, we get it. You’re wet.
Thanks to the wet stuff, we’ve got a double header with Buchholz and Beckett at the mound, respectively.
But hey, we also got a rest day. Kind of.
A wet, icky rest day. A much well deserved wet, icky rest day.
And the Stankees? They got another loss to Seattle, Lauren’s new most favorite non-Red Sox, non-Marlins team.
So Red Sox, today I’m going to ask you to play your socks off. Don’t do it for me. Do it for Seattle. And the stankcrushing they have done for you.
Ahhhhhhh… ALE. It’s lonely at the top… but someone’s got to be up here. Nice view, though. I think I can see Cleveland…
We meet this Verlander guy we keep hearing so much about today… I hear he’s okay.
And… oh no… oh no… Jenks could be… back soon…
But let’s not worry about that today. Let’s not… damn it. Let’s distract ourselves with THIS neat article on players on the cheap. Like Salty… and THIS article on how awesome we are…
L
PS- Super important decision to make. How exactly should I vandalize Jeff-the-Tigers-fan’s cubicle Monday? I was thinking real brooms, but I don’t know if that’s dramatic enough. I might paper his desk in pictures of brooms. I don’t know. But I feel like my conscience is telling me it should involve brooms…
Oh! And Bard has an excuse for sucking lately! (kinda) Wait, when was that sucky game? So, spread the word if you’re in the DC area.
And, by the way, as of 10 a.m., our 4-streak is tied with Arizona as the number one streak in baseball…
Yankees Posada themselves, world rejoices
Oh, Seattle, you beacon of hope…
So intense…
FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS NOT APRIL, 2011, CLICK HERE, PEOPLE. CLICK HERE!
Behold!
Bask in our first placeness.
BASK.
Damnit! Someone show me how to save a screenshot on a Mac computer!
It’s a proud time to wear a B on your hat, people.
Bruins.
Red Sox.
THE WORLD.
I just love you, Seattle. And Ichiro, for like, a whole minutes, I think I was in love with you.
Our story would have been a little like this:
Adorable, but it never would have worked out, Ichiro. Alas. We are too different, you and I.
Red Sox and Mariners. No. These things never work out, Ichiro. But, my love, we’ll always have Paris…
Ahem. I mean: We’ll always have that Yankees Game. That one time. You know.
Number one, baby! Time to step it up, Seattle…
And the Sox increase their win streak to 4.
Now, at 11:42… there’s only one thing left to say.
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Mariners!!!!!!!
1-0, Yankees. Come on, Seattle. Step it up! We believe in you!
(Even thought your moose mascot is dumb)
You have… um… a pretty stadium…
~L
And… Tim takes us to #1
Right? Right?
Because that is what Tim Wakefield is going to do.
(Is that Bill Cosby?)
We are hours away from holding the number one slot and wrapping it around Jorge Posada’s neck.
Wrapping it and wrapping it and wrapping it and…
Sorry. I’ve been writing about the North Carolina state budget all day.
Which means I need a win.
So Wake, get on that. Lots of things rhyme with Wake. Things like cake.
And cake is fantastic. Therefore, Wake will embark on a smacktastic Detroit smackdown.
I have been working on the budget. I am too tired for wit.
But not, apparently, to make up words. Like smacktastic. And timmerific.
I’m trying to decide whether to decorate my Tigers fan coworker’s desk with actual brooms or just pictures of brooms…
I really need to find someone to watch a game with. Who, you know, will actually wear the Red Sox hat. And, you know, will actually be okay with wearing the Red Sox hat. You know, wear it willingly. Proudly. Victoriously. Will maybe have his or her own Red Sox hat.
So. Um. You guys could move here. Or. Um. I could move to Boston?
I don’t know.
Would you hire me at your Boston paper? I write stuff.
I’m going to go take a nap.
~L
Go Tim Wakefield!
It’s okay guys. Youk will be back today.
I know you were all pacing in the waiting rooms of your hearts. But Tito assures us that our favorite Kevin Youkilis WILL be back. You can stop chewing your fingernails, FDA. And we need him. I mean, two whole runs against us yesterday! It was chaos!
Is it possible to type sarcasm?
Speaking of sarcasm… Deeeeeeetroit.
My coworker’s most favorite-upon-favorite tigers. About to be poached.
Get it? Because they’re tigers? And… um… people poach tigers? Like that one time in “The Jungle Book?” Not the cartoon, but the other “Jungle Book.” Was Cary Elwes in that? I get my actors confused. But that kind of poaching. Not the egg kind of poaching. Even though, boiling them is an appropriate metaphor. Because they’ll be boiled tigers. What a scary soup.
Guess how much sleep I’ve had?
Not enough to go into witty detail about how those cats will be declawed. And not enough to think that what I just said WASN’T HILARIOUS.
So if you could cover for me with your own trash talking, that would be swell. And I know you anti-Detroitees out there can come up with something better than, “Tigers, prepare to be declawed.” Well, maybe. Because that’s gold, people. Trash talking GOLD.
So, Soxies, whatcha got? Game’s at 1 p.m. So start trashin’.
—-
PS: Aceves… don’t let me down, baby.
CF Ellsbury <- Is going to steal ALL the bases. It will be more eventful than a mall day with Winona and Li-Lo.
2B Pedroia<- 🙂 Read this and feel great about the Destroy-a.
1B Gonzalez <-A cycle. Today.
3B Youkilis <- See? Not just a lovely, lovely dream…
DH Ortiz <- Is going to make them wet their wittle uniforms. With fear.
LF Crawford <- Growing on us. Almost got a cycle. Has a great attitude. DOES ACTUALLY HIT SOMETIMES. Kid’s alright.
SS Sutton <- Um. Did something yesterday? So. Um. Okay. Read a good article about him HERE.
RF Reddick <-Um. Whatever. Pawtuckett recall, eh… I learned more about Reddick HERE.
C Varitek <- AWESOME
Too Soxy for my Shirt 
Tied for… first? But… didn’t you say that couldn’t happen, April commentators? Didn’t you say that would be… wait… let me make sure I get this right… Orioles? The Baltimore Orioles? Were you… wrong?!
Was that title long enough?
Because I meant to say “were you really–really–really–really–really wrong? And when we said ‘it’s early, sports commentators,‘ and you were like, I’m going to make fun of your hopes and dreams for a few hours on every blog and radio show I can find and inspire your coworkers to leave brooms on your desk, it was, in fact, too early to make broad generalizations?”
So, imagine that’s tacked onto the headline for this piece. And yes, if you’re feeling nostalgic, click on some of those links.
I think the following commercial fits recent Sox activities to a tee. Ahem:
See, Detroit? You’re the kid. And that VW symbol? It’s really a B. And Cleveland, you’re the adult guy at the end. And Jorge Posada, I’m sorry but every blog post is NOT ABOUT YOU!
So yes, ladies and gentlemen, the Tigers were, no doubt, losers. But the real losers this week? Not Detroit. No, not even Cleveland. The REAL losers were sports commentators and bloggers who were making fun of us in April.
And Buck Showalter.
Oh-oh-oh- and Jorge Posada.
And Johnny Damon!
And Dominique Strauss-Kahn!
Wait… what were we talking about again?
Right. The Red Sox.
Go us! The Yankees play at 10:10. Stupid west coast games. Say they manage to lose…
First alone, baby.
So, kiddies, stay up late for me and cheer on our Washington brethren, okay? Because I have to get up at 5 a.m. to shoot a Memorial Day ceremony.
Oh, and could someone ask the rain to stop? Because I want to wear a sundress. Thanks.
~L
PS- April sports commentators, you might find this helpful!