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Posts Tagged ‘J.D. Drew’

The baseball old folks’ home preps to add a few. Will require annex for Posada’s ego.

January 24, 2012 1 comment

J.D. Drew is “probably” retiring, reports today indicate. Despite the mad flurry of Drew-hate peppering the nation over the past two years, I’ve never had a huge problem with you, J.D. I find your breakability irritating. I find your inconsistency mind-numbing (but attribute it to your breakability). But I remember the real you, J.D. I can still remember your home run pops and that cool indifferent reaction to your own badassishness. You’ll finish your career with a respectable 242 homers and my respect, sir.

You were very, very expensive. I mean. I don’t want to nitpick. But you were very. VERY. Expensive. I loved you in 2007. But I loved everyone in 2007 (mostly). I mean, you’re no Kevin Youkilis, J.D. Drew, but you can afford a Kevin Youkilis beard implant, if you want. I mean, you did average like, $8 million a year for 14 years. That’s even more impressive than those 242 homers. I hope you can use your retirement to… I don’t know… take vitamins or something.

In addition to the hefty salary, Drew’s inability to stay completely healthy contributed to the stigma that he was overrated. He never appeared in more than 146 games in a season and averaged just 470 plate appearances per campaign from 1999-2011.

But, in the words of Marc Antony, I come to honor you. Not pick you apart flaw by expensive flaw. But I think you need to retire. I think you need to retire. And up those fricking Flintstones because every time you break, angels cry.

—-

In “whatever” retirement news, Jorge Posada officially announced his retirement today.

I am devastated. Really.

Just when my Posada verb was catching on.

Just when people were starting to say “Go Posada yourself” when they were cut off in traffic.

Just when “I don’t give a Posada whether you take my lunch money. You’ll never take my self respect,” was the new “it” phrase to thwack bullies with…

YOU RETIRE?

Seriously?

Quitter.

“I could never wear another uniform,” Posada said at a televised Yankee Stadium news conference.

Literally. Didn’t you… um… try? And then have absolutely no success? Because no other uniforms would take you? You really Posada-ed yourself with that temper tantrum over the summer, mate.

Our very own Jason Varitek (possibly the next name on the plaque in front of the old folks retirement home) even had a comment. But he’s old too. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

“After hundreds of head-to-head games during the regular season and the postseason, I can’t say I respect and admire anyone at our position more than I do Jorge. The hard work and preparation he put into catching is a huge reason he has five championships on his resume. He is a true grinder.”

—-

As for the Tek (we alllllll know my Tek obsession. I won’t give you a double dose)-

Captain Jason Varitek, still looking to come back with the Red Sox, is figuring out what his next step will be, according to a source close to him.

It seems to me that dragging this out is helping no one, guys. He’s the captain. Show him a little more respect than arbitrary offers. Get real or get him coaching. ASAP.

I’m 27. And I’ll retire at age like, 97 at this rate.

So. Um.

Wow. That’s depressing.

I need a moment, guys…

~L

PS- The bulk of the emails I have been receiving today are in regards to my Tim Thomas comments. If that’s why you’re here, find those comments here and here.

And if you have a comment on ANYTHING you see here today, feel free to shoot me a buzz at ohnolauren@gmail.com. I LOVE e-mails. Like LOVE e-mails more than Posada loves his rings.

—-

Side note- $214 million? NINE years? Um. Okay. I don’t want Prince Fielder anymore. Um.

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It’s okay, Giants kid. It could have been worse. The ball could have hit you in the face.

July 20, 2011 5 comments

If he weren’t blatantly wearing a “Giants” sweatshirt, wouldn’t you think this kid’s an O’s fan?

In other news, um… in actual news… the schedule is out for next year- opening against Detroit! Which means coworker Jeff and I will have to draw a line across the office.

Home opener will be against the Rays.

If you buy me a ticket, I’ll even stay at your house!

—–

The internet is full of lively discussions about our Soxies. One that caught my eye: Why is JD Drew still playing for the Sox?

Anyone else think he sort of flew under the radar? He’s inconsistent. When he is good, he is very good. But when he is bad, he is… um… blah.

I don’t know. It’s hard, this transition. From being a JD Drew apologist to starting to see merit in the discussion…

Bill Ballou of the Worcester Telegram says there are a few reasons Drew’s still in the lineup:

Money is one reason. Even though Drew’s contract is almost up, the Sox still hope for one final hot month out of him to help them win in 2011. And I can’t imagine Reddick won’t take over in right field starting with this homestand when Ortiz’ suspension is done with. Drew’s career has, indeed, been a history of unfulfilled potential. It’s an interesting business, since he has made about as much money not fulfilling that potential as he would have had his career been as good as expected.

Thoughts? Is he really THAT bad? Can’t we put him the okay plus category?

—-

Bad news. ESPN says it’s likely we will not get Beltran.

So, if Beltran’s out, who is your ideal add? I hesitate to put any temps on the roster. I’d like more in-it-for-the-long-haul guys. No more Jason Bay heartbreakers.

Here’s a vote for Erik Bedard.

Here’s a vote for D-Lowe.

Thoughts?

oh. We won, btw. 4-0. How do you like them apples, Showalter?

~L

Those damn birds. Bloody Marys and veggie sausage: Bloggin’ Live

July 18, 2011 15 comments

Yeah. So I turn my computer on to see the triple. Yeah. Awesome.

Fine. Just adding more vodka.

Hi, Reddick. I’m glad you’re still here. I like you better than Sutton.

These announcers suck. 0-2, top of the second. Carl Crawford. Okay. But which Carl Crawford are you? Are you the badass batter or strike boy? Hmmm…

Oh. Apparently ground-out boy.

—-

Oh good. Yes. Let’s KEEEEEEP talking about Ortiz and Gregg. I’d much rather do that than PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT IS GOING ON ON THE FIELD. Seriously, announcers?

“It’s kind of ill advised what Michael did. It didn’t serve any purpose. It didn’t even hit them.”

I know, prick announcer guy. As soon as I figure out your real name, prick announcer guy, I will google you.

So, got a new mix for Bloody Marys. It is supposed to be “extra spicy.” It tastes like a tomato died in sugar and splatted in a microwave. Good thing I have my own horse radish and… wait for it… blue cheese stuffed olives!

I love you, Pedroia. I love you, I love you, I love you. That’s right, number 18. Eat it, sucka. Gregg, I hope you saw that from home. Or the showers. Or wherever they keep you in your shame. Pedroia and his anti-base-stealing-badassishness (am I supposed to call him a muddy chicken now? why?) save the day.

HOMERUN FOR SALTY! 2-1. And it was a pretty one, too.

Top of the THIRD. JD Drew is up. I would LOVE to see a homer out of JD. LOVE. LOVE. We all know I’m a Drew apologist. I’d really like a power bat to back up my loyalty.

—-

The “Let’s go Red Sox” guy is a lot louder than the Baltimoreans.

YESSSSSNOOOOOOOOOOOO. I really thought Drew’s ball was out of there. Caught. Crapnuggets.

—–

A single for Scuttttttt!

Announcers, please stop coddling the child pitcher. Bergesen is in the big leagues now. Let’s treat him like a big boy.

They are BOOING Jacoby. How can you BOO Jacoby? And he lets errrr rip. A single. Nice! Maybe if you hadn’t booed so hard Karma wouldn’t have hit you in centerfield, Os.

Oh, nice. They are replaying Pedroia’s 1:54 a.m. hit. Which is thrilling. Because at 1:54 I was in and out of a sleep coma.

Wow. Check out the bat chick. How do you get that job? I would be a greeeeaatttt bat chick. You know, because CLEARLY you don’t have to actually CATCH the ball. And I look damn hot in a ponytail.

I thought blue cheese olives would be fitting since the Orioles are so whiny. And they sure are. And only $3.59 at Ingles. I love you, Dustin Pedroia. YESSSSSSSSSS Base hit. LOVE it. Game is tied. That was one of those stand up on the couch, scare the crap out of your dog moments. Replay! Replay!

Oh. Of course. You’ll replay Ortiz-Gregg crap all day long. But we mustn’t show a kick ass hit again. Ohno. Hi, Gonz.

YESSSSSS. 3-2. 78th rbi for the GONZ.

Uhoh. I think I hear whining…

More vodka!

—-

Bottom of the third. 3-2. It’s like losing, but the opposite. I’m sure we’ll hear alllllll about that later from Bucky Boy. Think Gregg is watching? Of course he’s watching. Think the tears are rolling down his cheeks, or just welling in the ducts?

—–

YESSSS. Double play. Thanks to the Youkie-poo.

And… it’s phone shot time. I kind of have the best family in the world.

And I least I can PROVE my phone shots. Seriously, kids, without photographic evidence, how am I supposed to think you just downed it?

See how not lying I am?

Wow. That is the worst picture of me in the entire history of the internet.

Did anyone ever figure out what John Lackey did Saturday? Because I am curious.

Does anyone read this? Because I get loads of comments on live-blog posts. But they’re always when I’m not live.

Hi, Carl Crawford, “the only member of the Red Sox to NOT HIT IN THE THIRD INNING.”

Hey, the announcer said it. I didn’t.

It’s so nice not to be working.

Hi, Carl.

Oh, Maddon “let Crawford go,” announcer said, because of the Trop and its effects on Crawford’s legs. Yeah, I’m sure that’s why you didn’t get him. Had nothing to do with the moneys.

Yay! Base hit! Adequacy! You tell ’em, Crawford.

Alright Salty. Let’s teach the O’s to spell your name!

Lester “is ready to go Monday.” Sweet.

Comeon, announcers. Let’s talk some salt. That’s Saltalamacchia.

“It may be last man standing… or, it could be Tampa Bay coming in around the corner…”

What corner, announcer? Seriously. Because the only corner they’re coming around is a coffin. Or time out. That’s less dramatic.

YESSSSSSSSS Sweet. I love it when they dive for it and smack into the turf. Two players. No catch. Thanks for making us look swell. But, got to warn you, PIE, get ready to hear some whining in the dugout. Bucky’s not going to let you get away with an error without a trip to the corner. The time out corner. Not the coffin corner. Hi, Drew.

“That tells you how he’s seeing the ball.”

Shove it, announcer.

It’s okay. Scut’s taking point.

I don’t think they’ve decided how to pronounce Bergesen’s name. I’m hearing Berg-a-son. And Burgggg<-soft g-esson. Decide, please.

YESSSSSS Crawford, comes around to score… what was that? Was it out? Was it safe? Replay it, damnit. It looks safe. It looks fricking SAFE. Is it? You suck, announcers.

Safe.

4-2.

“That’s the first one, error-wise, the Orioles have committed in seven games.”

Well, announcer, they are too busy whining to commit errors. Oh, and to win.

SAFFFEEEE. You’ve got guts, Scut.

Guts.

Loverly. Like in the song from “My Fair Lady.” The musical based on another play called Pygmalion.

—-

Out. Whatever.

5-2 Sox. Sorry, Gregg. You should bottle your tears. You know. To water plants. We’ve all got to do our part to save water. I wrote this article about it today. Want me to send it to you? Should I just address it c/o Time Out?

Okay. Two people have invited me to be on Google plus. What. Is. It.????

—-

HOMERUNREDDICK. Yay. 6-2. Are you watching this, Bucky?

Are you seeing these announcers and their ties? Seriously. Is that a Valentine’s Day tie?

—-

Felix Pie. Peee-aaayyyy. Sure. Okay. PIE.

—-

“So long as the knuckle ball is working he can pitch from now to 75,” announcer GARY says.

—–

Seriously? You let Pie get on first? That’s ridiculous. Did you see that? Wild pitch, he hail Marys it to first… now they’re saying it’s on Salty?

There’s a sign that says Hankook or something…? But just now, Andino is blocking part of it, and it just says Kook. Hah.

—-

“It’s the invisible baseball. It sort of just darts away.”

—-

Hardy gets a homer. 6-4.

—-

“The problem with a knuckler is when it doesn’t knuckle, it rolls,” ~Announcer.

Okay, Wake. Baby. Let’s focus. Okay? Focus. Tito, you watch him, k?

—-

I am about thirty seconds from muting these damn announcers. 6-4. Bottom of the 5th.

I want to be a baseball announcer. Seriously. I would rock at your life, announcer guy.

DAMNIT. Okay. 6-5. Homerun.

Alright. I love you, Wake. Really. I do. But it’s time for a rest, k? Tito, don’t you think it’s time for a rest?

“You can just watch Wakefield put his head down.”

SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP

But seriously, Tito. I think it’s time for  a powwow. Come on, Curt Young. I can’t do this for you guys. Believe me, I want to.

STOP SAYING ONE RUN BALLGAME, ANNOUNCER JACKASS. We get it.

6-5.

“Keep in mind, the Red Sox had that 16 inning ball game last night.”

Wake looks sad.

Okay. Now I look sad.

DREW????

This game is making me SOOOOO glad I have blue cheese olives. You don’t even know.

Yeah. Hi, Curt Young. Let’s do this. Wheeler’s warm. Let’s. Do. This.

Oh. Okay. Or we could just leave Wake in. Sure. Okay.

This is me trusting you, CURT YOUNG.

Please. That so did not almost hit you.

BASES LOADED????? Seriously????

What. The. Frick.

??????

Wake?

Tito?

Curt?

SOMEBODY? Can anybody fricking hear me??????

Kristin, why is this happening to us?

DAMNNNNNIIITTTTT! 7-6. This is YOUR FAULT, Curt Young. YOUR FAULT.

Okay. I am using this commercial break to breathe. And calm my puppy down. Who ran upstairs and is probably in the bathtub.

Damn. It.

Seriously. Why? I need an answer. With words. In paragraph form. Stat. Go.

—-

FDA, is this because of that time I called John Lackey a water bug larva? Are we being punished? I know I look 12. I’m told that on occasion. It makes being a reporter super fun, let me tell you.

Oh God. Maybe the whining works.

—-

I would rather lose to the Stankees.

Come on, Wheeler. Come ON. 7-6 O’s, bottom of the fifth. TWO outs. Runners on second and third. This would be a gooooood time for an out. Thank you. Thank you, Dan Wheeler. I am naming my tomato plant Dan Wheeler in your honor, good sir. The beefeaters. Not the heirlooms.

—-

So, I was really excited to find the new Morningstar “spicy” breakfast sausage on special… but it is not spicy. It is full of lies.

—-

“Both bothered by a lack of defense behind them.”

SHUTUPANNOUNCERSIHATEYOU.

—-

Anddddd… MUTE. 8:47.

“Lackey’s the big question mark.”

SHUT UP. Yeah. So I lied about the mute. I was going to. I swear. I just. Um. Didn’t.

Jacoby Ellsbury is pretty.

Don’t tell K-Youk.

I see wayyyy more Sox fans than Orioles fans. Oh. And some pinstripes. Why are you in Baltimore?

Come on, Scut. Please hit the ball. In a scoring way. Not in a pop out way.

Swinging would help.

What did I say about popping out?????

—-

I can’t watch this.

Yes I can.

—-

Hi, Dan Wheeler. Did you always have that much facial hair?

—-

Okay. Moved computer to bedroom. Maybe I’ll sleep through the rest.

We’re fine. One run. And we’re on base. Thanks to kickass Jacoby. And Pedroia’s up. And there are no outs. All-in-all, it’s a good place to be. You know. If you’re the Sox.

I really hate these announcers. Top of the seventh.

Three balls. One strike. And one kickass Pedroia. Crap. Crap. Oh, thank you screen. Thought we were going to have a caught foul ball and a cranky me. And he walks.

Two on. And Gonz AND Youk coming up. We’re just fine. Just fine…

Gonz. He’s one for three.

Tampa Bay is leading the Yankees! Sweet.

Even though, honestly, I kind of wanted the Stanks to win so Joe Maddon could cry in his car.

It is amazing how many teams have been pissing me off that aren’t the Yankees.

Two balls. Two strikes. Gonzzzzz.

Okay. That was no strike. That’s a super questionable out.

Whatever.

—-

YESSSSS. Youkie. Hits. Jacoby. Scores.

Delightful boos rise up in Baltimore. Like Showalter, like fans…

—-

7-7. In the 7th. ONE OUT

Oh, now they call. Friends call at 9:16 trying to get me to go to the bar. Maybe you should have called two hours ago.

—-

An out. And Crawford comes. Up. 13 for 86 against lefties. Got to hit them sometime, though, right?

Pedroia and Reddick on base.

Would be an excellent time for a slam.

Ohno. I have not been paying close enough attention. Michael Gonzalez is pitching? Really???? Out. Whatever. “Crawford didn’t like the call.” I didn’t either, dear.

Seriously, that call was crap. Blue shirt announcer is totally trying to hide his lame Valentine’s Day tie with his microphone.

Oh. It does. It has hearts on it. No. Just… no.

Michael Gonzalez really shouldn’t be in this game.

Just saying. Guess his appeal wasn’t worked through today.

And…. Wheeler.

Still 7-7. It is 9:21. And I really might pass out. That’s sad.

Five relievers used yesterday. FIVE. That is insane.

—-

“Breath Lauren and play the drinking game. Every time anyone speaks Take a drink.” FDA gives the best advice.

Don’t mind if I do.

—-

Being a Red Sox fan can be a lot like being a Charter customer. You can’t help it and it hurts.

—-

Oh, Reynolds. That almost-homerun-actual-foul just made me terrify the dog again.

—-

Okay. I’m not going to argue. Really. But there’s something fishy going on in ump world tonight… 9:32. Still a tie.

Ohno. Please don’t let this game have 16 innings. Please?

—-

8th. 8th innings are great times for rallies. You can rally a tie. You can.

Michael Gonzalez is treating the mound like a slip ‘n slide. And I am having a lot of trouble keeping my eyes open. Seriously. If I pass out, you have to finish my play-by-play, FDA.

DO SOMETHING, MCDONALD. ANYTHING. Thank you. And he walks.

—-

I’m glad you helped an old lady, FDA. Because I accidentally shut the door on one. It was an accident….

—-

Just add more vodka!

That does the opposite of wake me up.

Seriously. Michael Gonzalez should be in Gregg’s circle of pout right now. They should be weaving friendship bracelets and swapping handkerchiefs. Is Showalter crying? Do his eyes look puffy to you? Another walk would be nice. Still top of the fricking eighth. Scuttttttt.

—-

Yay. Hit. Yay. First and Second. Yes. Tired. But first and second. One out. We will score. Because of FDA’s old lady. And because of God. Anddd stuff. Tired. Jacoby is up. He is o for four against M-Gonz. But that was before the whiny week. Surely he has been inspired by the whining. oh, the incessant whining. So tired. Faddding. Fading fast… oh the typos I have to fix before I click “update.”

11 to 7. Yay. Youkilis.

Yeah. We won. And I fell asleep and missed it…