The day hope died: Live blogging Sox vs Stanks. SIGH.

NEVER SURRENDER!

It is 2:49 and I am OFF WORK! Kinda. I have like… another story to write… but I am OFF WORK!!! So, I’m planning my victory extravaganza outfit. I’m thinking miniskirt and Youk jersey. Definitely pig tails. Maybe pig tails. I am trying to look more adult now that I have a job with (sorta) power. It’s hard to look important when you’re making important editorial decisions with lipsmackers lip gloss on, pig tails and chewing gum, apparently.  Going back to that super, super, super crappy bar to live blog this sucker. I’m going to write my article, live blog AND hang out in a scary, scary local bar… ALL AT THE SAME TIME!

Oh. And we’re going to win a baseball game. We are going to win the HELL out of a baseball game. Will Smith says so in this clip:

It’s I mean, kinda lame, since already KNOW we’re going to win. I mean, where’s the thrill of uncertainty? Price we must pay, price we must pay. Speaking of Price, TAMPA LOST yesterday. So, there’s that. I’ll be bar-side 4ish. So, come hang out with me!

Here you go. You are welcome:

See you in an hour.

—-

I am so excited. I really, truly am. I am dancing around my apartment to this. RIGHT NOW.

I think my dog is afraid of me. 45 minutes!

—-

Poor Mike and his misguided hypothesis. Judge him not, Soxies, but look upon him with pity.

🙂

—–

En route to the bar. Here’s hoping they actually GIVE ME A TELEVISION THIS TIME. Sigh. North Carolina.

There. See? No pig tails. Because I'm an ADULT.

So, this is great. Here. He ALREADY put a tv on the game. Which is an insta-improvement over last time, if you’ll recall. But there’s an issue… So… the bartender? He’s a YANKEES FAN. Yep.

—-

On the way up here, I sure did have a pretty drive. Between my house and the bar are miles of just overlook. Most people smile when they see the little scattered evidence of fall. I scowl and scowl and scowl and scowl because when Grandfather Mountain looks like that, it will snow soon. I hate snow. Have I told you that? I HATE snow. HATE. 3:47. Goody. Like twenty minutes of banter with a Stankee bartender. Seriously. I find the North Carolina bar with the Stankee bartender. What are the odds of that?

—

4:07. Here we go. There’s no sound, of course, but beggars and choosiness, well, you know.

So, the weirdness is has already started. There are only like twenty people in here, and I’ve already been approached by two of them. This will not end well for me.

And by me, I mean ME. Not the Red Sox. They will win. Of course. As you already know.

Okay. I am kind of ready for this to start.

—–

I think all these people are regulars. I want to be a regular. I mean, I’m a regular at this one bar. But it’s far away.

—–

I’m sitting across from this guy who HAS to be twelve years old. He looks just like the young kid from “Freaks and Geeks.”

—-

Well, it didn’t hit Yankee Stadium. That’s good. I guess. I am fascinated by this story and the idea that a satellite can crash to earth and no one notices. FASCINATED.

—-

Freddy Garcia, your name sounds made up. So many baseball names sound made up. I guess naming children is a good way to determine their future careers. My parents should have tried harder.

Hi, Jacoby. I am glad to see you. I wish I could hear them talking. Oh look, Tito is eating sunflower seeds. Of course he is. Maybe someone drugged his sunflower seeds. I mean, how would you tell the difference between drugged sunflower seeds and nondrugged sunflower seeds? You couldn’t really. Maybe that was the problem. Ew. I think Beckett was dipping. Ew. Okay. Enough of the close ups. Let’s get back to Jacoby.

They’re probably going to want to feign suspense. You know, this being a Yankees-Sox Rivalry game and all, so I don’t know whether we sholud expect anything from this inning.

Oh. Look. A single. Okay. That was surprising. I like this. I guess there still can be suspense even when you know the ultimate outcome. Not like we know how they’re going to get there, FDA.

Is it just me, or are their away uniforms PARTICULARLY shiny today? There was determination behind that Crawford foul just then. Likely influenced by those Cashman lies. Chin up, Carl Crawford. Tito loves you.

And so do we. Because you will contribute to the victory. I used to know this watermelon victory cheer. It was kind of great. Hah. They tried the fake out steal trick on us. You don’t try that on Jacoby, kids. SAFE. Now we’re on second. Thanks, guys. This guy behind me is talking (VERY LOUDLY) about how much North Carolina sucks. This might not be the bar for that convo, kid. Oh. Pop out. It’s okay, Carl. You tried. <- maturity. I think I’m growing as a person.

Pedroia the destroyahhhhhh.

I am eating clam chowder. Which is probably a bad idea here. You know what? I’ve never actually had clam chowder in New England. Interesting.

I thought eating clam chowder in a scary bar might further showcase my commitment to the 2011 Red Sox. Oh. Um. Out. Okay…

That’s fine, really. Because David Ortiz is here. And he’s bigger than you. He’s bigger than ALL of you.

There is a girl behind me with a tie dye dragon shirt on. Just observing. Not making any judgments. Because that would be bitchy. And I am not bitchy. Nope. Real tie dye. Mmmhmmm. And the anti-North Carolina winner over there, I ACTUALLY just heard him say, “put all my stuff on her tab.” Classy. Classy. Oh. Papi popped out. Oh. That’s fine. FINE. Because we’re still winning. You know.

Three outs. And the bottom half commences.

——

Hello, America. THIS is Jon Lester. The real Jon Lester. Not the shaky-I-might-be-Jon-Lester. And Youkilis has been watching him closely, Soxies. To keep him away from the Lackey Koolaid. Also known as lackeyade. Gross.

Hello, Derek Jeter. This is awkward, isn’t it? The last time we saw each other. Oh. Awkward. Look, Derek. It was a one time thing. Okay, a three time thing. Please just try to forget it, k?

Pedroia just made this awesome, movie catch. It was awesome. And movie-like.

Oh look. Curtis Grandersnot. I am glad I can call you by your true name once more.

Ahhhhhh the balance is restored.

That was a fancy strike, Grandersnot. A fancy strike. I felt it in my heart.

Two outs. That was almost sneaky, Grandersnot.

If we lose? Andrew! Haven’t you been listening to me? I thought we bonded yesterday, you and I. We are not going to lose. I have decided. Sigh. No one ever listens to me. Not even on the Internet. It’s really shameful. Really. And alcoholic comas sure are expensive.

I wish I could afford something fancy. I feel like something super fancy. Like a vodka martini.

YAYYYYYY Out. THAT, New York, is how you play baseball. Um. In case you forgot. What with the rain delay, and all.

——

War paint. DAMNIT. I KNEW I forgot something. Tomorrow, remind me to wear war paint. Or black lipstick or something. Cyellekate, I am happy to see you. I wish I had a spear. Because there’s this guy who was five stools away. And now he’s three stools away. And I’m not sure what the appropriate adult reaction should be.

Adrian Gonzalez has decided to fight for the MVP. You’ll see. They’ll all see.

Okay. So I never said you’d see THIS inning.

Out.

Yes, CK. I can too. Jacoby can really do anything he wants since he’s the only one who REMEMBERS HOW TO PLAY. You know, if I didn’t KNOW with absolute, unwavering certainty that victory is imminent, I might be like, annoyed or something. Certainty gives me Zen.

Marco Scutaro. He used to give me this cringey thing at the base of my occipitals, but lately, kid’s been growin gon me.

Oh. Look. An out.

Did he just smile? Did you just SMILE, Marco Scutaro? That is NOT SMILEWORTHY.

Breathing. In and out. Decisions, Lauren. DECISIONS. It has been decided. These two innings are of little consequence, really.

—–

Oh. So the bartender? He used to be a repo man. Which kind of works with the Stankee fandom, right?

Observations.

And the Miami game is on another television! My poor father must be so conflicted.

It was his birthday yesterday. I called him.

Alex Rodriguez. Oh. Um. Awkward. Um. So. The other night… you know what? Just ask Jeter to relay the message. It’s too nauseating to have to go through this speech again. It was ONE NIGHT. COME ON, PEOPLE. ONE NIGHT. I was lonely. I was sad. I was vulnerable. EVERYONE MAKES MISTAKES, EVEN MADONNA. Madonna has scary arms.

Out. Thanks, guys. Thanks.

All you Yankees look alike.

I look AMAZING in black lipstick. In anything, really. Oh, except orange. But I have this colorblindness thing and sometimes make mistakes. No, Andrew. No head heating yet. They’re aren’t supposed to get on base.

DAMNIT, LESTER. I JUST SAID THEY ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO GET ON BASE.

Maybe I diiiiiid stab my last boyfriend. Maybe I diiiiiiid. Well, the bartender did say he remembers me. He calls me napkin girl because of the napkin dispenser incident. You’d think that would be enough!

I wore black lipstick in high school this one time to prove a point. Oh! Oh! And to a football game this once. And then wrote letters in white out (don’t do that). Oh, and in high school powderpuff, we all wore black lipstick. Some of us got black eyes to match. Black lipstick is so awesome. I used to have purple lipstick. I went through this phase.

Oh, the wrath of Lester. Did you just see that? Why do we only have one out? This is a test, isn’t it? A test. Crudmuffins. I don’t like this test. That’s okay. First and second. I see what you’re doing, Jonny. Setting us up for a double play. Right? Right? RIGHT?

Who IS this guy batting? He looks like that guy from that show. You know the one. The kids doing wild things or something on Nickelodeon and ohmyfrickinggodthatdidnotlooksafetomeohhellwhyohwhyohwhywouldyouloadthebasesyouincompetenttwit. YOUKILIS. YOU HAD ONE JOB. KEEP LESTER AWAY FROM THE KOOLAID. ONE JOB.

It is hard for me to trust people.

ONE JOB.

Jesus Montero. Curt Young. Isn’t there something you should be doing? A conversation you should be having? DID YOU LEARN NOTHING FROM TORONTO? I am so fricking glad I have made this decision to win or I MIGHT be angry.

Um. The bartender just took my napkin dispenser.

You have a lucky jersey and you are NOT wearing it? What is wrong with you, Andrew? Do you hate me? Do you hate us?

PUT ON THE DAMN JERSEY.

And YOU, John Lackey. This is YOUR fault. Your stupid attitude and your stupid comments and your stupid koolaid.

Okay. The guy behind me (classy I-hate-NC dude) just said he wants to go to an abortion tournament. How do I find these people?

Oh. That’s right. I go to bars alone.

I am full of rage. Or. Um. Would be. If I didn’ tknow we were winning.

Oh. Loooooooook at that. 1-0. Okay. WHATEVER. Okay. So we’re going to win THIS way, I see. Okay. FINE. FINE. Curt Young. You’re going to drunk dial John Farrell tonight. I see it. In my mind.

Okay, Andrew. You’re closer. I think I’m going to need you to go over there. STAT.

Oh, look. It’s everyone’s favorite. RUSSELL. Hi, Russell. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in my whole life. I am SO excited to see you. You know who this is, right, Jon?

Oh no. Jon Lester has that look. Oh no.

WHAT? WHAT? WAS THAT YOU, CARL? WAS THAT YOU?

Why? WHY DO YOU HATE OUR TROOPS?

I am going to throw up. On this bar.

3-0? 3-0????????
Seriously, Curt. What are you trying to do to me? We know we’re going to win. Couldn’t we just do it painlessly?

What? What just happened? What? 6-0? WHAT? Is this because of what I said earlier, Derek? BECAUSE I’M SORRY. We could still… um… be friends. WELL NOT NOW.

You should have just articulated your thoughts. It didn’t have to be this way.

Breakups are hard.

This one just got easier.

DAMNIT.

Curtis Grandersnot.

I don’t know. I don’t understand. I decided. I DECIDED. It’s going to be okay, right? It has to be. It has been DECIDED.

SHUT UP, BARTENDER. I WILL VOMIT ON  YOUR BAR.

Andrew. FIX THIS.

Okay. So Jeff (Tiger’s fan) just called me and said, “Lauren, because I care about you, please don’t turn on the television.”

I HATE YOU ALL. (Not you guys. Like, the world and stuff). Aren’t you supposed to be dead, Jeter?

You know. This is a lot like “Dolphin Tale.” When they thought they were going to have to put the dolphin to sleep. But they didn’t. They built her an artificial tail. That’s all we need, really! An artificial tail! So, if we could just find Morgan Freeman…

I wonder, if I ask really nicely, do you think the bartender will give me bottlecaps to throw? I mean, it’s in his best interest, right? It’s either that or this salt shaker. Anyone know any good knock-knock jokes.

A car alarm is going off. I WILL SCREAM.

CK- That is a very astute observation re: Crawford. Say it isn’t so, Carl! How many times have I defended you? Like, at least twice. AT LEAST.

—–

Hi, Josh Reddick. My mother wants me to marry you. I mean. I would, maybe. But my heart is for Youkilis.

I miss Kevin Youkilis. He would NEVER let this happen. He loves us. He loves us all.

Damnit. DAMNIT. Maybe if we blog about what SHOULD happen. You know. like… wow. What the frick was that? What the? Oh. Oh, it’s okay. IT’S OKAY. It was just a Cub’s replay. Okay. Okay.

Damn. My heart almost felt something again.

Maybe we should blog about what SHOULD happen. Like, Jarrod Saltalamacchia SHOULD hit a ridiculous homer. Like, a ridiculous one. Like, look at that strike. And reverse it. To a ridiculous hit. In the amazing sense of the word ridiculous.

I wish I was drinking Jameson. Or something that looks real girly and fancy but isn’t because I don’t like things that taste like Koolaid. Hi, Jason Varitek. I miss you. Ohohohohoh… a close up of Kevin Youkilis.

I’m FINE, BARTENDER. I have something in my eye.

There is no spark. LOOK AT THEM. I mean, we’re still going to win. But I don’t know if we deserve to.

Oh look. We’re on first. Whatever.

I can’t hear the announcers.

CK. Scary thing, I don’t think it’s Garcia. It’s US. Just look at us. We’re the most feared team in the ALE, alright. We beat ourselves in EVERY FRICKING GAME.

Shawn! Shawn! I am so glad to see you! Fix this! FIX it because Andrew is doing a TERRIBLE job of fixing it! Oh, Shawn. Look at what they are doing to us! Look at what we are doing to ourselves! The humanity!

It’s like that time at the end of the Planet of the Apes (SPOILER) where Charlton Heston sees the Statue of Liberty. This game is EXACTLY like that.

I wish I could see the Alec Baldwin Stanks commercial. Wait. I wish I could hear it, rather.

DAMN IT ALL.

—

Andrew! Stop watching commercials and fix this damn game. Am I the only person in the world with priorities?

Someone coughed on my shoulder. OHGODIamgoingtodieofacoughdisease.

Lackey and Wake?

I TOLD YOU IT WAS CURT YOUNG’S FAULT!!!

Sadly, Lackey will probably win. Because he has weird luck.

I REFUSE to applaud Carl Crawford for anything right now. FOR ANYTHING.

Jon Lester looks done. Look at his eyes. You can tell a lot by their eyes. Well, we can. APPARENTLY CURT YOUNG CAN’T.

Oh look. On first. Oh look. It’s the guy who spells your name wrong, Andrew.

Alfredo Aceves. THIS is an Alfredo Aceves game. PLEASE, GOD.

It’s not about them anymore, FDA. It’s about US. And We… WE have… WE HAVE DECIDED.

So. That’s all there is to it. ALL there is. All there is.

afkojdsssssssslaf

I’m okay. My head just landed on my keyboard. Oh look. Curt Young is calling the bullpen. Oh look. So now we know what has to happen for you to pick up the damn phone. A FRICKINGLESTERPOCALYPSE.

Why? WHY?

Okay. Roll call. WHICH ONE OF YOU DIDN’T DECIDE?

Was it you, Shawn? Or you, Andrew? Because SOMEONE DIDN’T BELIEVE. Clap your hands damnit. CLAP YOUR HANDS. 8-0.

Tito to the mound. Tito to drag Jonny off for a timeout. Tito walking with a mouth full of sunflower seeds.

“8-0?!” Bartender is a jackass. “I thought it was 0-0.”

“It’s okay, I say.”

“You’re playing for the post season, babe. We’re just playing for fun.”

“Or for spite.”

“What?”

“Do you have sprite?”

You don’t want to get the pourer of the beer mad at you when it is 8-0.

This is not the time to worry about your FANTASY team.

The world is crumbling like aluminum foil and you are worried about a game. THIS IS LIFE, Andrew. LIFE.

And death, apparently.

No. I decided. I DECIDED.

RUSSELL MARTIN. So we meet again. Allow me to introduce you to CybelleKate…

Jon Lester looks so sad. It’s okay, Jon. I don’t blame you. I BLAME CURT YOUNG.

Dope slapping? How do you dope slap someone?

You should be on your way to Yankee STADIUM, Andrew. SOMEONE needs to talk to Curt Young…

You don’t need to see, FDA. Games like this, you can FEEL.

—–

I wish Fox didn’t blackout Saturday games on my computer. Because I really think public is not the place for me right now.

Dustin Pedroia. You have to score EIGHT RUNS. Do it. NOW.

There is this incessant beeping. And it is the stupid bar video game. It is like a maze or something. And I bet, if I threw a pint glass at it, the screen would break. Of course… it would probably still break.

Oh. Oh. Oh. In my irritation, I failed to see Pedroia skip to first.

Oh. Okay.

Oh. Never mind. An out. We have two outs. And… Adrian Gonzalez, I wish you were Kevin Youkilis.

T-shirt?! You’re supposed to be wearing your lucky jersey!

Maybe I should turn my shirt inside out. Um. In this bar. Um. Um.

No. NO. We are not breaking up. NO. Even though, the crying thing might be in the future. And oh… you are on base? Really? Well, okay.

Let go of mementos. That’s what I did when Johnny Damon and I broke up. That was really hard for me. And I started this fire.

Plot the end of their existence…

Hmmm…. Wow. I know we’re talking about the Red Sox. But in my last sort-of-not-relationship… I didn’t do any of that. Um. Except the Point out the Obvious. I always do that.

No. This isn’t Lester’s fault. He needs hugs. This is Curt Young’s fault.

FDA! No! No! We decided, FDA! We decided! We’re going to win!

Andrew. I. Do. Not. Know.

We’re… supposed… to… win…

Oh. I get it. It is a joke. It’s a joke, guys! That’s brilliant! A joke! The Red Sox are playing a joke! Okay. We just have to articulate that it’s not funny. Once they realize how not funny they are. Once they realize…

SONOFABITCH. Guy just asked if he could turn MY tv to the Miami game.

THERE ARE LIKE THIRTY TVs IN HERE ON THE MIAMI GAME.

I WILL FIGHT YOU.

Come on, bartender! Maybe I really NEED a napkin.

—-

Curtis Grandersnot is STEALING our black lipstick idea. Curtis Grandersnot, you canNOT pull that off like I can. Seriously. Blacklipstick. Him or me? Who’s hotter?

You will LOSE EVERY TIME.

This really creepy guy just (THANKGODYOUCAUGHTTHATISTILLHATEYOUCARL) approached me and I was like… mining my wit. You know. For something mean to say. And then he tells me about karaoke tonight. and I LOVE karaoke. So I paused.

Mark Teixera you sonofa OUT! Out! EAT IT. EAT IT AND CHOKE. I bet you know all about choking because your affinity with-

WHAT? I NEEDED A NAPKIN, OKAY? Don’t you walk away with MY salt shaker. I WILL fight you.

I did. I did stab my last boyfriend. With THIS SALT SHAKER.

Stabbin’ boys and skippin’ stones. That’s how I spend MY weekends.

Let’s change the subject. Yes. Let’s distract ourselves. Marco Scutaro, if I don’t look at you. You don’t strike out. I think, therefore I am. That MIGHT have been Plato. And it TOTALLY applies to this game. If a Scutaro falls in New York and there’s no Fox there to tape it, does he make a sound when he crashes, crashes, crashes, crashes to the ground?

Josh Reddick. Oh. Look. Someone made it to first. Oh. Okay. So… when I don’t watch you play… you do… better? Does this… does this mean… it’s MY fault? All of this is MY fault because I watch you? Is it… ohmygod. The guilt. The GUILT. I don’t know if I can live with myself, guys. I might just have to order more of the scary clam chowder. There are worse ways to die.

For example…

Hi, Garcia. GARCIA.

Out. Just one out.

Okay. New York guy? The bartender? He’s talking about the Dolphins. The MIAMI dolphins. Now, you know how I’m a fan in familial responsibility only, but I feel this… this… rage.

You know? I mean… the Dolphins can’t even DEFEND themselves.

But I can. I can. I will write something mean. On a napkin. Oh. Right. I have no napkins.

DAMNIT

I am glad I can’t hear the Fox boneheads.

But I am sooooooo jealous of your spear. I don’t even have a metaphorical one today.

WHICH MIGHT BE THE WHOLE PROBLEM.

Andrew, the only Kevin we need is Youkilis. Kevin YOUKILIS.

The Florida State game is on another tv. We don’t like them. I don’t know why, exactly. But it is the way I have been brought up.

I have been brought up with so much hate. A base hit? I … I missed it. Oh no! It’s me!

Subject change. Okay. If you were a basketball-loving guy who came back from the dead, and you were visiting Lauren for like two days this week, what would you want for dinner? Like, that’s not meat? Because I think I’m going to make basketball-come-back-from-the-dead-guy dinner. Maybe something I could make tomorrow and freeze and reheat and make it look like I’m Susie-homemaker. Oh! And my boss told me I could have Tuesday off for basketball-comeback-from-the-dead-guy. I mean, I didn’t tell him it was for basketball-come-back-from-the-dead-guy. I said I needed a “personal” day, but he was surprisingly receptive. Probably because he knows how unhappy my job makes me. Oh look, an out. Anyway, this will be the first time I’ve seen basketball-comeback-from-the-dead-guy since he died. And I wrote that super EMO post like weeks ago. Remember that? So. There’s that. I’m thinking something with tomatoes. He doesn’t like mushrooms. Because, clearly, he’s a freak. He’s coming Monday!

Which is probably a terrible idea. But. I have lots of terrible ideas.

Like this idea that I could come here and watch this game and not throw a pint glass. Like that idea.

I mean, I’m willing to entertain that option, Andrew. Sobriety clearly isn’t working.

How’s your aim, CK?

—-

Oh, crud muffins. They’re back at the bat. Oh crapcakes.

Good. I hate people with nice cars.

Yeah. Sit the frick down. YEAH.

So, I just screamed and jumped up and down on my barstool. I’ve decided to overreact positively to everything good that happens. Like that out just now.

YESSSSSSSSS! A catch! A catch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS! GOTEAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

The roof! The roof! The roof is on fire! We don’t need no water let the motherfuc- WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?

Ouch. I bruised my hip.

OHMYGOD LIKE KEVIN YOUKILIS.

OHMYGOD WHAT IF IT IS A HERNIA?

OHMYGOD I COULD DIE.

GO TEAM!

I think I’m mildly sauced. Sorry. I’m less funny with the sauce.

The sauce. HAH. Why do they call booze sauce? I don’t even like ketchup.

I HATE YOU, ALEX GONZALEZ. AND YOUR LITTLE CHARLIE’S ANGEL TOO. I don’t care that you broke up. I will NOT watch her show.

WHAT? WHAT? Crap. They’re replaying the Mariner’s game. I thought that was us. Crap.

I DEFY YOU, STARS! <- That’s from Shakespeare. I have two degrees in Shakespeare, you know.

ANDRUW JONES STOP SPELLING YOUR NAME WRONG!

Maybe we should start our own baseball team. We call it the Jacobys. And Jacoby can be the team captain. I didn’t mean that. Tek, I would never have a team without you.

I wish I were in New York, Andrew. We could stalk them. I LOVE stalking people.

I mean. Um. Not real people

Like bad people.

It’s my job, okay!

I AM a reporter.

And.

Sigh.

GO TEAMMMMMM. What? Commercial? WHAT? Commercial? THIS IS CRAP.

You know, I (true story) do freelance PI and criminal background checks. Criminal background checks, mostly. Maybe I should devote all of my investigation skills to what’s in John Lackey’s koolaid and why he feels compelled to share.

Michelin commercials TERRIFY me.

Andrew, tell me a joke.

CK, let’s plan our outfits for tomorrow. I think I’ll wear warpaint, my Youkilis jersey and- screw adulthood, BRAIDS.

PEDROIA. When did you get here? Hi.

I can’t read lips, but I’m pretty sure Kevin Youkilis just apologized to us.

I used to make lasagne. I can’t remember. Is it hard?

I used to date this Italian guy. But he was a liar.

About being Italian. His mom used tomato paste (I know!).

NOONECARESABOUTHEROCKIES,MLB

Okay. So here’s what happened. That satellite that crashed today? It caused like, supervillain radioactive waves or something that interfered with my decision. See, my decision waves were bouncing through the earth’s atmosphere, right? And then the satellite came barreling through. We didn’t have a chance, really.

SPACE INTERFERENCE. That should mean something.

Oh look. Dustin Pedroia. When did you get here? Hi.

Adrian Gonzalez.

We have DP on first. Really. I didn’t make that up. It happened.

Oh. Um. CK. We are to far away. if only we knew someone in NEW YORK who could deliver the message. If ONLY. <- By the way, Andrew- these hints are directly aimed at you. You know. Since you live in NEW YORK.

I wish I was staying on 57th Street. Or a Street. I live on a Lane. Which is entirely different. And less paved.

Oh- and on a mountain.

Could you tell Kevin Youkilis that I’m here? Oh, and could you give him my contact info? I mean, I’m sure he’ll want to meet me. Thanks.

Clean jokes? It’s easy to clean up dirty jokes. You just replace the bad words with different kinds of ice cream. Like fudgsicles and creamsicles and Italian ice. Which isn’t really an ice cream. But it’s frozen. So, there’s that.

More beer, bartender! More beer!

Your head is very shiny, bartender. Verrrrrrry shiny.

We have TWO people on base? TO people?! Hi, Mike Aviles. I haven’t seen you since that one time. Marco Scuaturo. I like how your name almost kinda rhymes.

I HATE pressure too. But I love music by Queen. It’s a conundrum, really.

FUDGSICLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

You creamsicling excuse for an Italian ice.

HIT THE BALL.

I DO NOT NEED TO SEE A GAME SUMMARY. I AM WATCHING THE GAME.

CHUNKYMONKEYYYYYYYY

So. I just realized I now have this entire side of the bar to myself. I am not sure how that happened.

That’s the LEAST of Jeter’s problems. He also had a mullet. True story. It was on Deadspin.

WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT? It’s a term paper. MOVE IT ALONG.

On a random note, I’m thinking of cutting my hair. Like all of it. Like Felicity did in the second season of Felicity. I wish my hair was curly.

Maybe I will go blond again. That really worked for me. Socially.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Bottom of the 6thhhhhhhhhhhh….. loooooossssing to the yankeeeeeeeess…..

I’m writing a song about today.

I mean, I will. When I get home to my guitar.

Beer.

Blood vessels probably broke in my brain. That’s called an aneurysm.

Loser soup. That is what I will call my song about today. Loser soup.

Homerun. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re fine. We’re fine. We’re fine. I STILL BELIEVE.

SONOFABITCHIHATETHEWORLD.

9-0.

9-0.

9-0.

We have become undone.

That’s from something. A song, maybe.

This is the most unappreciative bar in the world. I don’t see a juke box. You’d think they’d APPRECIATE my song selection.

I’m telling you. It’s not rookie pitcher’s fault. It’s CURT YOUNG. He is doing this to us. He’s trying to set himself apart from John Farrell, see…

When I go home, I am making lasagne. I need to go to the grocery store. Oh. In this jersey. Oh.

Damnstraight in this jersey. YOU PEOPLE CAN’T TOUCH ME.

So, in your life.. how much time do you think you have spent watching baseball? Like, how many days? Like, if we had never heard of this sport. If we had never given them a chance to hurt us. How many days would we have left?

And HOW MANY BRAIN CELLS???

Don’t ever let them see you cry.

Nevereverneverever.

Maybe we can tie it.

Maybe….

—-

Okay. Seriously. Let’s analyze this. I think this is 100 percent Curt Young’s fault. What do you think?

Conor Jackson. CONOR JACKSON. Sigh.

The Red Sox must HATE our hearts, Andrew.

Andrew, I think our feelings about the Red Sox and the months and months of our lives they have eaten can best be expressed by folk icon Bonnie Raitt:

You are welcome, America.

OhOhHAVEAHEARTBEEEEEAATTTTT.

No, you shut up. This is a PUBLIC bar. I can sing if I want to.

Yeah? Well Florida State is like, the dumbest team ever. Oh. Where did my wit go?

UFC. Maybe we should. Um. Watch that. You know. Give UFC a try. Um. Thanks, Fox. For your commercials and your suggestions.

Hi, Jacoby. Fix it. Fix it goooood. Oh. Oh! One on base. We could… we could do this! We could- Carl Crawford. Oh.

What?! What?! Base hit? Base… SCORE?

Score? What?

Oh. Well. For a second I thought…. I hoped…

Oh.

Andrew! If you have something to say, you should share it with the ENTIRE class.

Curt Young! Curt Young! Pay attention! See how they have an EIGHT run lead in the 7th inning and we get ONE run and they take the jackass out? See that? Write that in your trapperkeeper.

WHEN PITCHERS SUCK, IT IS MY JOB TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. BECAUSE I AM THE PITCHING COACH. <- There. Just copy that. In cursive.

Ohohoh! We are playing! We are… playing! Baseball! We are playing baseball!!!!

This is stressful. Are you stressed? This is stressful.

Papi. It is Papi. It hurts to hope…

Yes. I like champagne.

Um. Well. Not really. But I will sooooooooooooo drink it in front of you, Alex Rodriguez.

Pappppiiiiiiiiiii…..

This is spite. This is true spite. Seriously. I mean, if we were like, the Orioles… we’d have people in the lineup we’ve never heard of. SPITE.

It wasn’t a breeze. It was a mighty wind. A mighty—

CRAPCUPCAKESWITHCRAPICING.

I will take no more pictures. You do not need to see my face now.

It is scrunchy.

DAMNIT

Why do good things happen to terrible people?

See, when they invent the teleporter, we could, all three of us, go someplace. Right now. Someplace random where the bad thoughts won’t find us. Like. Um. Utah. Or someplace like that.

No. If I had a teleporter, Curt Young would NOT be in New York.

I’d do that for you, America.

Ryan Lavarnway.

So. We officially don’t care.

And by we I mean EVERYONE IN THE RED SOX ORGANIZATION. Everyone. EVERYONE. From the pitching coach to the janitors should be FIRED.

I didn’t mean that.

YES I DID.

I didn’t mean that.

YES I DID.

YOUKILIS SHALL BE SPARED.

I am so sad.

And angry.

And confused.

I bet this is what getting a divorce feels like, except less expensive. You know. For me. This divorce is QUITE expensive for Theo Epstein.

Of course, he is heartless and hates us all and wants us to be unhappy.

I didn’t mean that.

YES I DID.

I didn’t mean that.

I AM SO CONFUSED.

Yes, CK. You will save us. You will save us all.

HIT HIM IN THE FACE!

Okay. I thought about this. Very articulately. For like, thirty seconds. And I have decided Jup is right. If they’re going to lose (and I say IF), they could at least be entertaining. You know? Like, playing tag with the ball. And juggling. And fakeout antics like they do at the end of Rookie of the Year when they have nothing left to lose. They could throw Millar in. And Tito. And hell, Heidi. Put Heidi in as pitcher. DO IT.

THAT is the way you lose a baseball game.

Not this. Please. Not this.

Just put Don Orsillo as shortstop and watch the chaos ensue.

Please? Please?

WHYYYYYYYYYY

—-

Okay. I have had like, twenty seconds to breathe. And it’s okay. I mean, it’s the bottom of the 7th inning. Not the ninth. And we decided. And… anddddd

TREVOR MILLER?

SERIOUSLY, CURT YOUNG? SERIOUSLY?

We want John Farrell! We want John Farrell!

Come on! If the Stanks could steal Damon from the Sox, SURELY the Sox could steal Farrell from the Jays.

Once we get him across the border, he’s OURS!

All we need, really, is a freezer truck and a little bit of spunk.

At least Florida State is losing.

Maybe the Red Sox should try something new. Like tee ball.

I like how we have a thousand hits and like no runs. It’s juxtaposition irony. Like art.

Maybe Curt Young is trying to be a conceptual artist. Fail. Fail. Fail.

Did you REALLY hit a homerun off of Trevor Miller? Because I am very gullible. I believe most things people tell me because I have this inherent belief that humanity is good inside. <- Why I fail as a fan.

I have NEVER been called vanilla ice cream.

I do not know how I feel about that.

Speaking of ice cream, did you know Joe Girardi does not allow it in his dugout. True story. And THAT, ladies and gents, is why the Stanks are evil. Because of ICE CREAM.

I don’t know who that guy with the glasses is (the one they keep showing close ups of) but I hate him, Andrew. I hate him so much.

Oh look. Adrian Gonzalez is out. Oh look. In the top of the 8th. Awesome. <-sarcasm. That guy runs like a CHILD. Not A-Gonz. The Stank.

We ALL have things to look forward to tomorrow. Because, as Scarlet O’Hara said in everyone’s fourth favorite movie, Gone with the Wind, TOMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY.

And we will win TWO games.

Yes. We WILL.

Is that really Paul Simon? I have always loved Paul Simon. Until THIS MOMENT. The Boxer. The song that changed my life. IS DEAD TO ME.

I don’t think they realize how important this is, CK. Maybe they are sequestered. Like  a jury. Maybe Curt Young rips up their calendars and they still think it is May.

Oh. An out. What whimsy.

I wish this had waited for Monday when basketball-come-back-from-the-dead-guy is here to restrain me.

I think the sky IS on fire.

FIRE.

Curt Young should be FIRED.

Seriously. Are you getting these Michelin commercials? Because I am going to have nightmares. Serious ones.

Uhoh. Someone is in here that I know. Where do I know you from? Where? College, maybe? I don’t know. That’s right. waaalllkkkk to the other side of the bar. The OTHER side…

Michael Bowden. Oh.

Crap. This is the fourth time they have played this Nirvana song. I do NOT feel mellow.

Lars Andersen=EVERYONEHASGIVENUP.

We SHOULD just go watch Pawtuckett games next year. They’re cheaper.

Now they are playing Ska music. Which I am kind of digging. But I am so confused.

Even hope dies here. <- That’s a line from this play I wrapped called “Going to See the Elephant.”

I think it’s applicable.

You should learn her name. Girls like it when you know their names, I hear.

Oh, and don’t say you’re moving across the country and then just appear after three weeks with a paltry explanation.

I didn’t mean that. It’s the booze.

I am glad I didn’t hear Fox say that, just now.

Okay. So I threw a coaster. THERE ARE WORSE PROJECTILES.

Top of the ninth.

Whatever.

Thanks. Thanks, JACKSON. Thanks. REMIND ME TO TAKE YOU OFF MY CHRISTMAS CARD LIST. No. You know what? You’re still on my list. YOU ARE ON MY LIST. I’ll just go… nontraditional.

I think that guy lived in my college dorm, maybe. He gave me this quizzical, then familiar look. So, clearly, this is a guy who has seen me throw coasters before…

No. No. This isn’t. It’s not. This isn’t happening. It’s not. Okay? It’s just not. WE ARE NOT LOSING.

Alright. Fine. Just fine. Okay. Just let us win this one, and then… we’ll give you… let’s say ONE, in the ALCS championship, k? Just let us win this one, and we’ll give you that one. Do we have a deal?

WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO US? WHY? FUDGSICLE.

This is not. It is not…

I am so sad.

NO. WE ARE DOING THIS AGAIN. We are doing this again, damnit. We are playing tomorrow. And Tomorrow NIGHT. And WE WILL WIN. THAT IS WHAT WE WILL DO.

Seriously? Seriously?

You know who’s fault this is, right? THE RAIN.

And Theo Epstein. They were like, up to you. Do you want to play? And Theo’s like no… it’s rainy. We’ll melt.

WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT, THEO? It’s dry as a flipping dry bone on a dead thing in a dead desert and we DROWNED. WE DROWNED.

NO. NO. That could NOT have been worse. STOP DEFLECTING MY TORMENT WITH LOGIC.

No! NOTHING IS WELL DONE, ANDREW! NOTHING WILL BE WELL DONE AGAIN!

I don’t eat steak.

I am going to buy something. Like ice cream. And I will eat it with a fork and I will clean my apartment and I will WASH YOUR MEMORY OFF MY FLOORS.

Seriously. Mike was right. HOW do you do this? HOW? How do you… Why do you…

I DON’T KNOW. I DON’T KNOW.

Okay. It just took me like five minutes and flagging down a busboy to get my tab.

I HATE THIS PLACE.

I…

Basketball guy is coming Monday. MONDAY. So. Um. MONDAY.

And… And…

Sigh. I am going to the grocery store. Fear not. I can walk there.

I will catch you guys…

um. Later.

LATER.

Later.
SIGH.

Thanks for… for…

Well… thanks.

None of us should be alone today.

No. None of us should be alone today.

~L

AND I had to walk back in the Rain. IN THE RAIN.

WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE DONE THIS A FEW HOURS AGO IN NEW YORK, SKY?????

Hate.