I’m hearing a lot of hate.
Everyone’s heartbroken about Josh Reddick, who, if you didn’t read my post from yesterday, is now officially a letter and not a Sox…
But, see, this movie doesn’t have to have a crappy ending.
We’ve all seen this situation before.
I think you know what I’m talking about.
This EXACT situation happened in a classic film from 1987.
I think it’s obvious where I’m going with this.
That’s right, ladies and gents. Classic of all classics, “The Brave Little Toaster.”
Allow me to explain.
Okay. So, there’s this toaster, right? Let’s just call him Josh. And, despite being BADASS (you should see the toast man, it’s stellar. Just add butter), toasters are a competitive lot. I mean, Josh is like a two toast toaster. And there are like, eight toast toasters at Walmart for just a couple of extra dollars. Even though Josh’s toast is faster. And crispier. And, um, energy star. And who eats eight pieces of toast anyway? So, when the kid grows up, let’s call that kid… oh, I don’t know… BEN. When the kid grows up, he’s going to get all these new appliances, right? Like an electric blanket that works and stuff.
So the Toaster, um, Josh, and his little friends (D-Lowe! Gotta have hope! Tek!) go on this walk about, right? And have these great adventures. All to find their kid again.
I mean, it’s scary. As we know, it’s not a movie for the faint of heart.
I mean, it has Joba Chamberlain…
And the Orioles…
Oh! Joe Maddon…
It’s a very scary movie, guys. Can you believe I watched this when I was three?
Anyway, SPOILER alert, the toaster comes back. And so will Josh. You’ll see. And when he comes back, we’ll all eat toast.
He just has to have an animated adventure first.
There. Feel better?
YOU ARE WELCOME.
Never seen BLT? Well, this situation is also exactly like this movie… Except without the grizzly bears.
This means no more Papface.
No more Papjig.
No more PAPELBON.
He’s leaving us, see, for the SANDWICHES.
Seriously, Paps. I bet you could have found a sandwich in the dugout underneath all the KFC bags.
WHO WILL REMAIN AND WHAT WILL BE LEFT OF US?
I am never, ever, ever leaving town again.
NO MORE PAPELPUNS. OHNO.
I am most upset about this. I need some time to process my emotions. And… the candy at the office today is… CIRCUS PEANUTS??? What the frick?
PS- You know what hurts worse than watching your ex move on?
This is a TERRIBLE day in sports.
Yes. So we all needed a good cry/Fiona Apple angst marathon after what can only be called the nauseating icing on a crapcupcake of a game… (Avilles, REALLY???? REALLY???)
But now that we’ve had our moment. Our breath. Our private walk punching session. Now that the Neosporin is starting to cool off our bandaged knuckles… it’s time to put things into perspective.
Sweet, sweet perspective.
And that perspective says:
At least we’re not Cleveland.
Over Labor Day weekend, 10 of the ablest minds at Grantland briefly stopped typing their own names into a Google search bar and devoted themselves to a sad question: Which city’s fan base is enduring the roughest stretch in sports right now? Where should the sympathetic among us direct our pity? Or, for the cruel at heart, our Schadenfreude?
Check it out. It’s how I almost smiled today. Thaanks, JEB.
PS- If I get off work (60 percent chance!), join me at 7 for a live victory blog. <-positivity. Let’s try it.
You know, Wakey, maybe you should stop thinking about 200 as a milestone. Shoot for 500. FIVE HUNDRED. Then, see, you have 301 games that don’t matter, really, in the grand scheme of the milestone. It’s psychological. Write it on your mirror or something. It can only help. FIVE HUNDRED.
As if trying to get a bar to play baseball in a non-baseball state wasn’t hard enough…
A growing trend has bars playing video games. Video games, mind you, that patrons aren’t even participating in. Video games, mind you, that are directly competing with MY RED SOX.
Reason number 5,865 you need to hire me at your Boston-based newspaper.
Just read an article telling us to keep our “yellow caution flag” out with regards to Erik Bedard’s start tomorrow.
Because, ladies and gents, he’s recovering from an INJURY. The “oft-injured” Bedard who joins our “oft-injured” rotation is, like everyone else who wears the Boston “B,” or so it seems, INJURED.
“We want to help get him to where he can pitch like he can pitch and it might take a little while to do that,” manager Terry Francona said before last night’s 3-2 win. “He’s got 12⁄3 starting innings under his belt, he’s got no rehab starts, so he might not be at peak efficiency yet. Fans and media might not be patient with him, but we will be.
Really? You are NOT making me feel better about the “oft-injured” description. Oh, I’m sure you’ll be patient. You’ve been patient for… let’s see… JOHN LACKEY. And… you were patient with MIKE TIMLIN… and… let’s see… JOHN LACKEY. Oh, remember Delcarmen? Oh, and Lugo? Remember LUGO? I remember Lugo. Your patience does not instill in me CONFIDENCE. JOHN LACKEY?
“With Erik, we understand with him we have to be a little bit slow here. He pitched a game probably for obvious reasons probably before he was ready to pitch. He should have probably been on a rehab. We all understand why and we’re glad he did.”
Slow here? This is the Red Sox. We’ve got to hit the ground running. Don’t make me nervous before Bedard even hits the mound, please.
And, sportsies the world over say, it’s not just about Bedard specific:
But you know what? That’s tomorrow. Bedard is tomorrow. TONIGHT is Wake. NUMBER 200. 200, people. Let’s watch it together. Sayyyyyy my blog, 7:10ish? See you then.
DLB. Drunken Live Blog. Duh.
So, I’m starting this in the 6th inning. The last time I started a game in the 6th inning was horrible. That was yesterday. Yesterday was horrible.
Jon Lester. Jon Lester is today. TODAY.
And, if the 4-0 score is any indication, today is a GOOD day. One out.
GOOD DAY. THREE OUTS. GOOD FRICKING DAY.
4-0. Pedroia doing his I-know-how-to-play-baseball (he forgot yesterday) trek to first. AND Second. Man on first. Man on second. Triple sexy. Welcome back, Gonz. Thanks for running to first base this time. See how much better things progress when we run?
Weird. They keep doing these crowd closeups. And no one looks invested. Are you seeing this? Everybody’s just like, eh… it’s a game. There’s no anger. No fire. Really, no Chicago hats. Oh. There’s one. Weirdness. It’s like body snatchers or something. They’re soulless out there.
Youkie strikes out.
As we’ve been pitching (let’s say hurling) lately, a four run lead seems scant.
Scant, I say.
Papi at the plate.
By the way, did you see THIS? Jeb sent me the latest proof that the Onion hates us.
Facing the cruel prospect of winning 200 grueling games in his interminable 19-season career, 44-year-old Red Sox pitcher Tim Wakefield tried to get a line drive to hit him in the head Friday to finally put an end to it all. “I didn’t throw [White Sox hitters] any knuckleballs because I wanted to make sure the ball had enough speed coming off the bat to shatter my skull,” said Wakefield, who lunged face-first at everything batted toward him.
Andddddddd…. strike out. Whatev.
That was a sexy Youk catch. Catch. Throw. Kazaam. Out. Bottom of the 7th. One out.
Really?! Really? Homerun. That’s not what I’m reallying. I’m reallying at the dramatic fireworks. Well. Okay.
Top of the 8th. Carl Crawford. Is out.
It is so hard to keep my attention on this game.
Top of the 8th. Two outs.
We’re on a base. That’s nice. Hi, Josh.
Well, that got my attention. 5-1. Two outs, one on base.
So, I met a strange person that gave me a very strange idea today. I met a girl who… Okay, Whatever. Scut looked safe in THAT replay. Whatever. Okay. Story. Right. So, I met this very strange person…. ohmygodithoughtthatwasahomerunbutitwasapopout. Right. Three outs. Okay. Very strange person. She watches tv. A lot of tv. And is, apparently, quite dissatisfied with just an hour-long episode. She writes fan fiction. See, I knew that people did this with Star Wars (I dated a guy… there was a Wookie incident… don’t worry about it) but I was unaware people did this with, say “Friends.”
But it gave me this idea. What would happen if we wrote baseball fan fiction? I mean, besides scoring 50,000 runs, I keep thinking about things I would insert into games. Drama. Plots. Side characters. Clearly, there would be some elicit scandal.
Orioles cry off the field after 47-0 shutout. What a great title for my fan fiction. I’ll work on it.
It is the bottom of the 8th. One out.
Kevin Youkilis would be the star of my fan fiction.
Oh, and that homerun… the one that just made the score 5-2? That wouldn’t have happened. I might, however, keep the lame fireworks.
And the eighth inning ends. And the 9th inning begins. And I’m distracted thinking about my fictional game where Yamaico runs on the field for a goodbye anthem.
It’s really great.
Oh, we just got on a base. Just one base. Because I’m not writing this game. 9th.
You know what? I like watching games on mute.
And Adrian Gonzalez gets a homerun. Oh, that one was real. And the score is 7-2. Top of the 9th. Zero outs. That means no outs.
Okay. If you are not watching this, you’re going to think this is fan fiction too: Kevin Youkilis just got his 15th season homerun.
See, you know I didn’t make that up, because if I made it up, it would be like 211th home run. 8-2, top of the 9th with Papi at the plate.
Oh. One out, by the way. Sorry, Papi.
One on base. Jarrod Saltalamacchia about to show off. Right? Right.
Brilliant. 9-2. Brilliant. Hi, Salty. Your doubles make my heart smile.
Did I say 9-2? I must have meant 10-2. Because that is the score now. With one on first. And 2 outs.
Rich Harden? What? I’m glad FDA is paying attention in the comments section. Because I’m paying attention to the game. Oh, and my brain.
Okay, who is Rich Harden? We’ll know soon enough, apparently- talk of a trade- Lars Anderson may be leaving on the Yamaico jetplane:
The 29-year-old has a 4.30 ERA this season, the ninth of a career that has been slowed by injuries. He has had sub-3.00 ERAs in three different seasons, though he has never reached 200 innings in a single season.
Oh. Wikipedia says he is from Vancouver. Which means he’s probably a fan of Maxim Lapierre. Ew.
Ew. Do you think he will spread Canuck (the hockey team, not the Canadian stereotype) germs all over OUR Fenway Park?
Oh. Hah. I self-corrected, FDA. Totally just read your comments.
Well… we need a pitcher…
Okay. Man on first. Really???? I think it’s cruel to draw it out so, Wheeler.
Wow. I am at 979 comments now. I have to start planning my super-amazing piece of artwork. Commenter number 1,000, you see, will be treated to a special marker drawing. I should really get more markers.
Dear White Sox,
The pinstripes are still a bit much for me.
Oh, look. One on first. One on second. I’m sorry. One on second. One on third. Oh look.
I’d be concerned, really, I would. But it is 10-3. I’m just slightly bemused that you’re doing this to them, Dan. It’s like… beating a dead horse? Ew.
Thank you. Thank you for that out.
That’s right. Rip the band-aid off.
Now we can pay attention to these trades. Rich Harden…
I mean… wikipedia doesn’t SAYYYYYY he’s a Canucks fan. I’m just assuming…
Oh NO. He’s another Jed Lowrie. He’s “oft-injured.”
OHNO. That is exactly what our bullpen needs <- sarcasm.
MORE INJURED PEOPLE.
And Clay, you’ll like this. He gets blisters too:
Harden, 30, missed the first 82 games of this season with a strained latissimus dorsi muscle, the same injury that put Sox left-hander Jon Lester on the disabled list earlier this month. But in the course of a big-league career that began in 2003, Harden has had disabling injuries to his shoulder, hip, back, trunk and elbow. He also has had blisters. The never-ending cycle of injuries is one reason Harden has never won more than 11 games in a season, and has pitched more than 150 innings just once in his career, back in 2004.
THIS article says Navarro was projected as a third baseman. Good. I’m glad he’s leaving then. GOOD. You heard me.
So much drama.
What are your thoughts on trades/Youkilis’ beard/the Pink Sox series? You know. The important things.
PS- As indicated in the comments, TOOSOXY correspondent FDA will be at next Wednesday’s Wake-fest. 200. It’s going to happen.
SOOOOOOO The rest of this is pretty much in response to FDA comments. Which I’m sure you care about extensively. So I thought I’d let you know to increase your attention and focus.
All the comments! FDA, that’s why you were promoted to correspondent! Keep up!
Some Canadians play baseball. Um. Toronto. It’s very cold there.
No. I don’t pay people.
I like Canada. I really like Vancouver (as a place). They have orca whales. Did you know that, FDA? Orca whales. Which is great. And baseball is great. So. Um. Logically…
You never know, FDA. Maybe he can be converted. It happens. And maybe he’s not a Canucks fan. Maybe… um. Maybe he likes something totally random. Like the Ducks. For no reason. It could be a personality quirk. Sort of endearing in an awkward irrelevant way?
Well… at least twenty people were fans. There were fires, after all.
A baseball chat would be nice. We should do a dual blog. I wish I were smart enough to know how to do that.
Well, Harden is official. It’s in USA Today.
Southern accents are swell.