Saying good bye to a fantastic year

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? …

Tara:
A toast to the greatest year in Red Sox fan history!

 

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Susan:
Hear, hear!

 

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Rider on Green Line:
Happy New Year to Soxaholix far and wide! (And fuck Randy Johnson by the way. Skinny, mullet wearing freak.)

 

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Egotism, nature's compensation for mediocrity

Rumors of a Yankees leviathan begin to surface …

Marty:
Hey, Callaghan, I was just checking to see if everything is Jared Wright in your little soon to be second place again city.

 

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Bill:
Hey, Marty, get a hold of your diminutive self and press the down button on your elevator shoes. You still have to play the 162 don't forget.

 

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Marty:
Face it Billy Boy, we've got Wright and we'll eventually have Johnson and Beltre. Mights as well start printing the playoff tickets right now.

 

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Bill:
Don't forget, Marty, you still have to face the best of the best in the playoffs. Fact is your Spankees and Slappies haven't had what it takes to win it all for a couple of seasons now.

 

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Marty:
Say this slowly as your cry yourself to sleep in August, Callaghan: Jeter, Beltran, Rogriguez, Sheffield, Matsui, Williams, Martinez, Posada, and Womack. Not that's a lineup.

 

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Bill:
I don't see much evidence of championship leadership there. Just a bunch of mercenaries, errand boys sent by grocery clerks.

 

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Marty:
Ah, yes, "leadership." That's why your genius Theo Epstein overpaid for the very worst catcher in the American League with respect to throwing out runners.

 

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Bill:
Yes, indeed, Marty. Varitek's primary job isn't to throw out runners but to intimidate your sissy boys. How's that working out for you, Marts?

 

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Marty:
You wish, Billy. A-Rod in his second season is going to be awesome.

 

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Bill:
I'm so scared Marty. A-Fraud is all wrapped up in himself, but he makes a pretty small package.

 

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Chiquitita

When there's no baseball news and no blizzards, what's a Soxaholix to do? Well, pick on A-Rod of course …

Bill:
You know I'm as guilty of trying to find the bright side of a player's decline as the next fan …

 

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Mike:
Fuck yeah you are. If there's one truism about Red Sox fans it's our ongoing optimism. [Laughs]

 

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Bill:
Absolutely. In our world the glass is always half full. Of course, it's half full of fucking poison but that's beside the point. What I'm getting at is how Yankees fans are going out of their way to put a positive spin on A-Rod.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, I love all the "Sure the numbers says A-Rod is in a steady decline, but it's a great decline!"

 

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Bill:
I giggle with the irony to all these "if other teams could be so lucky to have a playa in so-called decline" whitewashes. The phrase you get what you pay for works both ways. Just because you can afford to pay best playa in the league salaries to guy who is no longer the best playa in the league, doesn't always mean that's a good thing.

 

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Mike:
My favorite can't see the forest for the trees problem with the A-Fraud postseason Spankees fan spin is the ol' if it wasn't for his manufacturing that winning run in the rubbah game of the ALDS, the Spankees wouldn't have made it to the next round.

 

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Bill:
Oh, no shit. Don't they know we Red Sox fans piss our pants with joy over the shadenfreade in that? No manufactured run against the Twins means no chance to witness the ultimate Slappy McBluelips humiliation.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, the manufactured run was like Napolean escaping exile on Elba only to meet his Waterloo shortly thereaftah.

 

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Bill:
Beautiful. Whenevah Slappy comes to bat at Fenway in '05, they should play Abba's Waterloo ovah the PA.

 

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Mike:
Great idea. And after he grounds out they could play Chiquitita as he walks his sorry ass back to the dugout. [Sings] "Chiquitita, you and I know. How the heartaches come and they go and the scars they're leaving."

 

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Bill:
Abba nevah gets fucking old.

 

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Girlfriend in a coma

Susan/Circle:
Appropriately enough, The Globe named Theo Epstein "Bostonian of the Year."

 

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Tara:
Bostonian of the Millennium would be even more apropos.

 

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Susan/Circle:
And we learn, alas, that he has a girlfriend who is "a critical presence in his life. " Weird way to put it if you ask me.

 

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Tara:
Maybe that's the stat head in Theo coming out. You know maybe he's thinking in terms of "emotional win shares" or something.

 

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Susan/Circle:
Yeah, whatev. Who knows what their deal's about. Truth is I'm just jealous and looking for reasons to poop in their little love nest.

 

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Tara:
Ah, freeing your inner reprobate. But no need for none of us ever had at a chance at getting under the boy wonder. Theo's boo isn't a fan, and he loves that  "they can go weeks at a time without discussing the game."

 

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Susan:
How sweet. Now pardon me while I puke in my own mouth.

 

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Tara:
Can you imagine the domestic scene? Girlfriend is all, "Honey, how was your day?" And Theo's all, "Awful. I traded one of the most popular players in franchise history and everybody hates me." And then she's like "Oh, poor you. But seriously does this skirt make my butt look big?" You know, all la dee flippin' da and all.

 

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Susan:
I loathe the casual fan bitches.

 

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Have yourself a …

To all the Soxaholix readers, thanks for making this strip a success and so much fun to do. Merry Christmas to all! — H.B. (Update: No strip today, Mon. 12/27/04. I lost of track of time reading about tsunami.)

Snowman:
Is it Spring yet?

 

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Varitek's in, battery recharged

Theo Epstein gives the Soxaholix (and Scott Boras) a little something for under the tree …

Bill:
Well, he'll be using a cane and eating Lipitor like its candy when his 4 year contract expires, still it's great news to have Varitek back.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, this is almost as good as 8 maids a milkin'. That's a fuck of a lot of money though for a 36 year old catcher, though.

 

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Bill:
I'm resolving myself to the idea that they're paying for 2 years moving forward and back paying for what Tek gave the club in 2003 and 4.

 

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Doug:
And don't forget the all important "intangibles" like punching pretty boy mouth off's in the noggin and shit.

 

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Bill:
Abso-fucking-lutely. And this Wade Miller signing makes for a nice colly bird to join the other 4.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, even the comatose one got animated. Says he told Epstein, "You've got me now. I'm excited about this team."

 

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Bill:
Of course, because being coach of the World Series Champion Boston Red Sox isn't very exciting on it's own or anything. But bring in a guy for one year who's coming off rotator cuff surgery and you've got Terry rocking his fucking Yule log.

 

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Pass the brie plate

Doug:
Clement seems to have the right stuff when it comes to words, at least.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, seems tough with his, "If I'm sore, if I don't feel right, I've always pitched through it."

 

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Doug:
Yeah, and as for his falling out of favor with the Cubs and Dusty Baker, I say what the fuck does Dusty Baker know? The guy's the African American version of Gumpy Grady Little.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, decides to shut down Clement on Sept 20th then proceeds to go out and lose 7 of the last 9.

 

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Doug:
Nobody puts Baby in the corner!

 

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Mike:
[Laughs] Fuck yeah. Clement should have pulled a Johnny Castle on Dusty. "This is my dance space. This is your dance space. I don't go into yours, you don't go into mine. You gotta hold the frame."

 

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Doug:
Nothing like quoting from Dirty Dancing, the cheesiest movie of all time.

 

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Mike:
No shit but the Baby in the corner line only came in second in the BBC poll of cheesiest movie lines all time.

 

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Doug:
What's your favorite cheesy Red Sox quote, player or management, all time?

 

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Mike:
Ah, that's fucking easy. Wade Boggs, "I am a sex addict." And yours?

 

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Doug:
More recent. Pedro: "Fifteen years ago I was sitting under a mango tree without 50 cents to actually pay for a bus. And today, I was the center of attention of the whole city of New York."

 

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Mike:
Yeah, that's a mofo classic. There's really a lot of great cheesiness over the years. We should compile a list and rank them on a cheese scale.

 

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Doug:
In the immortal words of the acting genius Swayze, "Ditto."

 

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Ghost of Christmas Past

Bill:
Finally, no more getting shotah every day days. Sol has returned.

 

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Mike:
Oh my fucking word. Have you been hanging out with that pagan chick in accounting or something? Next you'll be wearing a crystal and asking the goddess of pomegranates to spank your pileous ass.

 

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Bill:
[Laughs] Hey, the pagan is wicked hot for a wiccan witch. Besides with the Johnson trade going bust one gets a nice whiff of sunny days and springtime coming.

 

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Mike:
Wouldn't it be fitting if the Los Angeles nee Brooklyn Dodgers, archaic Yankees rivals, were the reason the trade fell through?

 

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Bill:
Even bettah is reading that Yankees righthander Javier Vazquez does not want to play for the Dodgers and refused to travel to Los Angeles for a physical.

 

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Mike:
You reap what you sow.

 

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Bill:
Karma fucking chameleon.

 

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Mike:
If you listen real closely, you can hear George Steinbrenner's hand on the grindstone … squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching.

 

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Bill:
The covetous old sinner yelling, "Cashman! Cashman! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? Humbug, Cashman, humbug!"

 

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Imaginary friends (are overrated)

The Soxaholix await news on Varitek and prepare for a long winter …

Susan/Circle:
Did you have an imaginary friend when you were growing up, Doug?

 

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Doug:
What do you mean "When I was growing up?" … Some days now I feel like I exist solely in the minds of others.

 

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Susan/Circle:
I know the feeling. But, hey, at least the shrinkers have determined that having a pretend friend is emotionally healthy.

 

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Doug:
Oh sure. All is well and good until somebody gets hurt.

 

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Susan/Circle:
What are you saying? You had problems with your childhood pretend friend?

 

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Doug:
Fuck yeah I did. All was cool until my figmental friend went and got himself an imaginary agent.

 

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Susan/Circle:
Oh, no he didn't! For fuck's sake that is wrong on so many levels.

 

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Doug:
Tell me about it. I'd had this friend since I was 6, too. But the thing is the imaginary money wasn't the problem, of course. No, the bone of contention was the length of contract. The agent wouldn't negotiate a day less than 4 years.

 

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Susan/Circle:
Four years! What he fancied himself a franchise friend or something? No fucking hometown discount?

 

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Doug:
No shit. A regular Boras this guy was. So I say to the agent, "Look. I'm 10 fucking years old. In less than 4 years I'm going to hit puberty and I'm not going to need an imaginary friend so much as an imaginary slut to do imaginary things to the very real weewee I'll be holding in my pubescent hand. No way I can give you 4 years of imaginary friendship. I have to think of the future."

 

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Susan/Circle:
Right on. Gotta drive a hard bahgain. Not get locked in. So what happened?

 

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Doug:
Oh, get this. The imaginary agent of the imaginary friend is all "My client is very versatile. He's a utility friend, and can play many roles." And I'm like "You sick fuck. That's not my dealio."

 

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Susan/Circle:
Well, just goes to show, imaginary friendship is a business. Can't let sentiment get the better of you as they say.

 

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Doug:
Yep. As it goes, the imaginary friend signed with a kid up the street, Jerome, the guy who brought the net to our street hockey games and had the hot older sister.

 

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Susan/Circle:
Whateveh became of Jerome?

 

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Doug:
Oh, bad, bad subject. Let's just say Jerome went off to a Catholic Seminary after high school and leave it at that. My moms is still devahstated by it all. When we were teenagers, she'd always plea, "Why can't you be a good boy like Jerome?" But not any more. Not after what happened.

 

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Susan/Circle:
Man, truth sure is stranger than fiction.

 

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Doug:
I'll say. You can't make shit like this up if you tried.

 

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Short days, long nights

'Tis the season for second guessing …

Bill:
I don't know if it's due to a short days and long nights, but I spent the whole weekend depressed about the offseason moves.

 

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Mike:
You still think they overpaid for Renteria?

 

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Bill:
Yeah, but more so this Clement deal. Turns out the guy's a big fucking question mark and a potential Olsen twin emotional breakdown waiting to happen.

 

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Mike:
Since when is baseball strategy risk free? As for question marks and head cases, what they fuck was Pedro Martinez exactly?

 

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Bill:
True. I'm just not comfortable with what seems like a backslide into the old ways … Team doesn't resign Martinez, so they feel they must make a move and overpay Renteria. Team loses Schilling to the DL for all of April so they panic and sign Clement, a big uncertainty at a big price.

 

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Mike:
Lighten up, dude. The Baseball Prospectus guy, Will Carroll, thinks that Clements was a "great signing." If you really want to be depressed, imagine you're a fan of the Washington ex-Nationals.

 

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Bill:
What a fucking fiasco. Is it true, as Gammons reports, that they'll play the next two years in Norfolk?

 

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Mike:
Yep. Nor-fuck. The one city on the East Coast that even Baltimore can look down upon.

 

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Bill:
Angelos must be pissing in his pants with joy.

 

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Mike:
Knowing that bastahd, he probably considers Norfuck part of his Baltimore market little Ted Turner wannabe that he is.

 

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Bill:
They aren't going to be the Norfolk Nationals are they?

 

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Mike:
That would be lame-o. Hey, considering that Norfolk is the home port of the US Atlantic fleet, I think the Norfolk Seamen would be appropriate.

 

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Doug's Deep Thoughts

The airwaves are full of the Pedro Martinez telenovela, but one can always tune it out and drift off into another world …

Voice from car radio:
… and in the Silverman column Pedro says, "Still, with an off-year, I'm way over Schilling as a pitcher …"

 

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Doug thinking to himself:
For fuck's sake why can't Pedro just shut up already. For double fuck's sake why do I even listen to this shit?

 

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Voice from car radio:
" … And they should have thought about the rest of the stuff and not just Curt Schilling and his personal catcher…"

 

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Doug thinking to himself:
Wonder if that shit who nailed Pedro in the noggin during the parade was fucking prescient or something?

 

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Voice from car radio:
Getting back to, uh, something Dan wrote, Pedro said Minaya is a man of his word. Pedro said that a couple of times, right? The inference was, one can only surmise, that, uh, that John W. Henry, Larry Lucchino, and Theo Epstein are not men of their word. …

 

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Doug thinking to himself:
Maybe that grassy knoll ball hurler wasn't an errand boy sent by grocery clerks, maybe he was a fucking time traveler? Maybe he knew Pedro was going to come out with this nastiness?

 

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Doug thinking to himself:
If I had a time machine, I'd travel back in time to nail chicks just before they become famous. Like that Kelly Clarkson chick. Fuck yeah. Pop outta my time machine, what, 3, 4 months before she ever auditions for Idol? Bitch'd still be small town nobody and all then and I'd be all wining and dining her wannabee famous pear shaped ass.

 

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Doug thinking to himself:
Ah, fuck, that wouldn't work because I'd be getting arrested for the delinquency of a minor and all. No, I need a bettah time machine. A bad ass mofo that can also dial up what age you want to be when you arrive. Step out of the time machine all 17 and shit (with the time machine set on "no teenage acne mode" of course) …

 

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Doug thinking to himself:
Oh, yeah, me and the pre-famous Kelly Clarkson on her parent's couch while the rest of the family is at church. Boom chicka waa waaa, boom chicka chicka boom chicka waa waaaaa …

 

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Big Unit, Big Dreams for Big Apple

New York fans are getting giddy …

Marty:
Good news Callaghan

 

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Bill:
Yeah, yeah, I heard Marty, your guys are about to sign Randy Johnson.

 

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Marty:
Oh, yeah, there's that. But I was talking about the good news about Lunesta.

 

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Bill:
What's Lunesta, the stage name of another transvestite torch singer from some seedy East Village club that you've cast your debauched New York eyes upon and fallen for?

 

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Marty:
Oh, you're going to learn to love Lunesta, Billy Boy. It's the most powerful sleeping pill ever, just approved by the FDA. You're going to need to get a scrip  to cure your clinical case of chronic insomnia after the beat down the Yankees put on your sorry Boston asses.

 

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Bill:
The Big Unit is what's going to put you ovah the top, Marty? I thought Slappy was supposed to do that? Then Sheffield was? And you gave up Vasquez to get a 41 year old pitcher? I'm not impressed, sorry.

 

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Marty:
Callaghan, leave the baseball strategy to fans who know what they're talking about. You do for sabremetricians what the Boston Strangler did for door to door salesmen. [Laughs] This trade makes the Yankees stronger. You know it does.

 

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Bill:
It'll just make seeing a Pinstripe crap out all the sweetah. Now that your rotisserie league wet dream has come true, what'll be your excuse for failure this year?

 

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Marty:
Oh, if in the unlikely event I need an excuse, I'm sure I can dig up a good one from the plethora of whiney Red Sox blogs out there. I'll shit out some of that "loosing builds character" diarrhea you guys were crapping for 86 years. Yeah, I'll start quoting literature and trying to talk over everyone's head.

 

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Bill:
Marty, if Red Sox fans talk over people's heads, then Yankees fans must be talking under their feet.

 

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The Science of Rockets

Bill:
I guess Pedro must have taken me seriously when I said I was going to use my Japanese lap pillow to cry myself to sleep when I heard he'd signed with the Mets.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, gotta love Pedro's "they love me and they're all crying in Boston" sound bite.

 

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Bill:
Truth is Pedro was loved here. And as the Sports Guy says, "I can't root against him. It's just not in me. He's like family."

 

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Doug:
Yeah, I'm all fucking bipolah on this. I'm sad he's not coming back. I'm happy he's not coming back for the money he wanted.

 

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Bill:
The Renteria signing is a welcome distraction.

 

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Doug:
Yeah but like that unnamed major league exec said to Edes, "Great, but can he pitch?"

 

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Bill:
Theo will find anothah ahm or two. It's not rocket science.

 

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Doug:
Dude, all things considered, I think the "rocket science" metaphor has jumped the sharked or rather went up couldn't find the fucking shark and just exploded.

 

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Bill:
No shit. What in Christ has happened to our rocket science industry anyway? Fuckers are about as accurate as a Matt Young throw to first.

 

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Doug:
Maybe the rocket scientists are all Yankees fans and just can't help but choke under pressure?

 

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Sentimentality is for losahs

Bill:
I love it when reporters, especially out of town ones, especially Spankee rooting ones, pee in their pants about a so-called lack of loyalty in baseball.

 

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Doug:
Let me guess: Pedro is the victim? Red Sox management is Machiavellian?

 

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Bill:
Worse, dude goes all belly aching over how his mofo chokers aren't going to get a chance to go against the same Red Sox rotation that beat them.

 

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Doug:
What a fuckwit. Either he's so clueless he doesn't know that in the past two years, the Red Sox were 24-16 against the Yanks when Pedro didn't start, 3-9 when he did or he does in which case the sad truth of his lame ass "loyalty" leitmotif is apparent.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, poor Spankee reporter-fan, still trying to find his lost mystique and aura. All crocodile tears because Theo The Prince Epstein won't play along and overpay for players out of a sense of sentimentality.

 

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Doug:
Sentimentality is for losahs.

 

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Bill:
Like el Gammo says, "The idea is to eliminate as many inefficiencies as possible, and one of the major inefficiencies in the baseball business is sentiment."

 

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Doug:
We have not seen great things done in our time except by those who have been considered mean; the rest have failed.

 

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Bill:
Mean is so fucking in right now.

 

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Shea it ain't so

Pedro signs with the Mets and the shit hits the fans …

Mike:
Did you read the memo post on SoSH from XXX and ZZZ?

 

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Rider on Green Line:
It's all the owners' fault! Henry is eeeevil. XXX has a point. What the frig have these owners evah done for us? They promised us a World Series victory and what do we have to show for it? … Oh, wait a farkin' minute. [Laughs]

 

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Mike:
Yeah, the X in "XXX" stands for xenophobia. All that suggestion of "Henry's reach in New York and New England" to suppress all the evidence to prevent any Woodwards and Bersteins from putting "the whole thing together."

 

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Rider on Green Line:
But of course. That totally explains why the Boston media is so easy on the team, nevah writing anything negative or conspiratorial.

 

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Mike:
I am going to miss Pedro, though. Like with Nomah, I'm relieved he's going to the National League, where he'll fade from my memory quickly.

 

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Rider on Green Line:
Yeah, I'm going to go home tonight and snuggle up to the lap pillow I had Fed Ex'ed from Tokyo for occasions such as this and then gently cry myself to sleep.

 

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Mike:
A door closes, a door opens, Hola, Señor Renteria.

 

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Perfect he's not

Pots on the hot stove are simmering …

Doug:
Hide the key to your liquor cabinet and hire extra dancers at the titty bars, David Wells is coming to town.

 

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Bill:
Wells is so fucking old school. No wonder he idolizes Babe Ruth. The two are cut from the same cloth.

 

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Doug:
Who the fuck needs BALCO when you've got Captain Morgan and a lap dance to get you ready to pitch?

 

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Bill:
You don't think Wells' price was too high?

 

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Doug:
First off, Theo Epstein does not overpay (not counting Ramiro Mendoza, of course). Secondly, Wells' contract is totally performance and incentive based. If he makes the full monty, it'll be because he earned it.

 

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Bill:
True, but you don't think "a lefty fly ball pitcher in Fenway Park has 5.00 ERA written all over it"?

 

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Doug:
Haven't you seen the motivational poster outside ol' man Scrivener's office? "The greatest risk is the risk of riskless living." Love that shit.

 

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Bill:
No fucking doubt. Nothing makes me work hahdah than a good motivational poster.

 

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Doug:
Hey, did you see that the Lowell sportswriter dude we were all busting on the other day is also the official scorer at Fenway?

 

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Bill:
I did not fucking know that. Dude knows his shit after all, I guess.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, too bad he's got to ruin his cred by trying to tell us "what the fans are thinking." Why do so many in the media do this?

 

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Bill:
Right. There are two reasons I read a sports column. To get news or get the writer's own opinion on that news. I don't give a fuck what the writer thinks the fans think. I know what the fuck I think fercrissakes, don't need Chaz Scoggins or any other media pudnut to tell me.

 

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Doug:
Hell yeah. Lay out the righteous smackdown.

 

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A fascination fetish

Susan/Circle:
If you needed more proof why entertainment and lifestyle reporters should nevah ruminate on sports, some dink in Baltimore writes in a TV review, "if even the Red Sox can win it all, why not the O's in 2005?"

 

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Mike:
Guess the dude's so busy watching Joan of Arcadia that he nevah noticed the O's suck. Er, except when they play Boston, of course. I'm still pissed, even after the World Series win, that the difference between the Spankees final season record and the Sox's came down to how the two clubs did against Baltimore.

 

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Susan/Circle:
Let it go, dude. If you're feeling down, just whip out your official Red Sox Nation ID card and let its prestige and salience wash over you like a golden shower in a border town bordello.

 

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Mike:
How do you say "wicked pissah" in Spanish? [Laughs]

 

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Susan/Circle:
Back to mixing sports, celebrity, and entertainment, I know Beth has already covered the Barbara Walters Most Fascinating Person crapfest, but I just wanted to say that of the 100 or so adjectives that come to mind when I think of Curt Schilling, fascinating is not among them.

 

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Mike:
No shit. Harry Potter is fascinating fercrissakes. Women being attracted to Clay Aiken is bizarrely fascinating, but Curt Bloody Sock Schilling? He's too god-damned brazenly manly for such effeteness as fucking fascinating.

 

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Susan/Circle:
By the way, what exactly did Barbara I Slur My Words Walters find so fascinating about Paris Hilton?

 

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Mike:
You mean besides her congenital water ski feet? Bitch is a size 11!

 

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Susan/Circle:
Fucking-A I forgot that. She's the Skanky Sasquatch. Even "I'm a rhythm machine" slutmaster Tommy Lee got turned off by the Hilton hell hooves.

 

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I will not be numbered like a slave to Selig.

An already horrible idea has resurfaced and becomes even more horrible …

Doug:
Poor wretched Little Sister Solange Rockett. At 89 years old, after a life of service to the poor and die hard devotion to the Boston Red Sox, she passed yesterday one day before the official Red Sox Nation ID number could be assigned to her.

 

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Bill:
"She had a great love for God, the church, the congregation and the Red Sox," said Mother Celine Therese. But she doesn't have an ID card, so MLB could give a rat's ass. She's a nobody. Just another worm eaten corpse now.

 

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Doug:
You know how it fucking goes, "Render unto MLB what is MLB's, and render unto God what is God's."

 

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Bill:
The wicked irony, of course, is that for all of our collective angst when this idea was floated a month ago, the price of rendering went from $5 to $9.95.

 

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Doug:
This is the most heinous sumptuary tax placed upon us since King George tried to fuck with our stamps and tea. And you know how that turned out.

 

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Bill:
If only we could dress up like Indians, raid King Selig's warehouse where these rinky bits of plastic are stored and dump the lot of them into the mofo hahbah!

 

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Doug:
I am a Red Sox fan. I will not be numbered like a slave to Selig.

 

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Bill:
There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston!

 

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The Relationship Rescue Workbook

Mike:
When it comes to writing about baseball injuries and medicine, Will Carroll is the man.

 

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Bill:
Hell yeah he is. Love that line in the Dirt Dogs excerpts where he says the myth of Schilling's postseason performance will always outstrip the truth, but the truth is enough.

 

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Mike:
But now that Carroll and Silva are all lovey dovey, I pine for the good old days when everyone hated each other.

 

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Bill:
No kidding. It's like there's been a Dr. Phil inter-fucking-vention or something in the baseball fan site world.

 

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Mike:
[Imitating the voice of the talk show guru] Now be sure to stay tuned tomorra for a very special episode where I'll be joined by Jason Varitek and Alex Rodriguez and I'll show all y'all how to repair any broken relationship using strategies from my best selling and excellent book that all y'all should have.

 

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Bill:
You know you're only lonely if you're not there for you.

 

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Mike:
For fuck's sake that Dr Phil is a bigger impostor than Barry Balco Bonds.

 

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A lost cause

Bill:
So one of your homeboys up in Lowell is saying that winning the World Series is the worst thing that evah could have happened to the Red Sox.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, the dude says New Englanders are always looking for a lost cause to support.

 

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Bill:
Ah, right. Lost causes … the local newspaper industry certainly comes to mind on that one. Declining circulation. Declining relevance. No fucking wonder Chaz has to spaz.

 

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Doug:
You know it's bad enough having to deal with all the shit heads who jump on the bandwagon. Now we've got to put up with the fuckers who want to drive the bandwagon off a cliff for excitement, because, you know, winning is boring.

 

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Bill:
I'm trying to figure how what makes one of these "winning sucks" fuckers tick. You think after they got their first piece of ass they were all "Well, that's ovah with. Now I'm bored. Guess I'll just put my little wee wee away now." rather than saying, "Shee-at that was some good cooking. I needs me more of that and fast."

 

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Doug:
Yeah, yeah, big time. I think dudes like Chaz get up and say, "I'm a staff writer at the Lowell Sun. That's good enough. All that big dreams, goals, and passion shit is way overrated."

 

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Bill:
Yeah, there's a reason some men grow up and become Curt Schillings and others grow up and become fucktards.

 

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The Red Sox Sea

Marty:
Hey, Callaghan, how's your wife and my kids?

 

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Bill:
Oy vey, Marty, that joke's about as old as your Spankees pitching staff. Maybe you should overpay for some new stuff? By the way, Marty, this is the first I've heard of you since, when was it, after Game 3 of the ALCS? What's up with that?

 

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Marty:
Oh, no biggie, I just wanted to give you [sarcastic cough] Sawx [cough] fans plenty of time to riot and kill each other, you know? Didn't want to intrude on that class act.

 

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Bill:
What's with that cough, Marty? Are you choking or something? Maybe you should take a pill. I hear the little white ones are good. At least that's what your blow buddy Giambi says.

 

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Marty:
You're the one who's going to be crushing oxycontin and snorting it up your nose to relieve your pain after the press conference when Randy Johnson first tries on his new Pinstripes.

 

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Bill:
Oh, Marty. You and your Spankees cohorts just don't get it do you? Where your moves once inspired awe they now reek of desperation and slappy timidity. Steinbrenner could sign fucking Moses and you still won't get to the promised land. There's no parting the Red Sox sea.

 

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Marty:
Your hubris is pathetic even by Boston standards.

 

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Bill:
Hey, Marty, all this hubris is making me fucking hungry. You think you can ring up your boy Rivera to serve me a couple of meatballs?

 

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Ask your doctor.

Susan/Circle:
Oh.My.God. I can't believe this: Jason Giambi admits he used steroids.

 

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Mike:
Are you fucking kidding me? I'm agape and agog.

 

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Susan/Circle:
No shit. Is that a stunnah or what? I haven't been this astounded since the jury inexplicably found that nice and totally respectable Scott Peterson young man guilty for killing his pregnant wife Laci.

 

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Mike:
Who knew? Who the fuck knew?

 

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Susan/Circle:
This quote is the pissah: "Giambi testified that he didn't know what the pills were, though he thought the white one might have been Clomid, a female fertility drug that can enhance the effectiveness of testosterone." And he wonders why he got so fucking sick this season? Jeez.

 

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Mike:
And if there was any doubt that Jeremy was the dumber of the Giambi brothers, and that's fucking saying something mind you, we learn that Jeremy started taking steroids because his brother did and, quote, "Jason didn't die" unquote.

 

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Susan/Circle:
Sounds like Jeremy could be a future spokesperson for the pharmaceutical industry: "Hey, lots of fuckers are taking these little purple pills and they ain't dead yet. Ask your doctor if this dope is right for you."

 

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Mike:
Yeah, meanwhile the fucking Feds are breaking down doors to arrest cancer patients and those dying of HIV for smoking a joint to relieve pain because, you know, that's helping the terrorists and all.

 

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Jealousy is invariably a symptom of neurotic insecurity.

It's like Oprah's book club in the office today …

Mike:
Don't get me wrong, I'm a big Stephen King fan …

 

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Bill:
Same here. I've been hooked since reading Salem's Lot in paperback in the fall during 7th grade. Couldn't fucking sleep for weeks. Didn't help that my hometown was about 20 miles as the crow flies from where King located the fictional Maine village.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, I'm still scared shitless of root cellars to this day … though I always secretly fantasized that the hot chicks from high school who didn't want anything to do with me would get turned into vamps and be floating outside my window one night pleading "Let me in so I can suck you." [Laughs]

 

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Bill:
King is the fucking horror master. And a die hard Red Sox fan.

 

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Mike:
Abso-effin-lutely. Which is why I was ecstatic when I heard he'd be writing a book to chronicle every game of the 2004 season. Couldn't wait 'til it was released. But now that I've got it in my hands, I'm totally fucking underwhelmed.

 

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Bill:
No shit! What gives?

 

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Mike:
Well, for lack of a better word, it's kind of ordinary. I mean it's not bad. Not at all. Just, I dunno …

 

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Bill:
Just you were expecting more?

 

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Mike:
Exactly. I mean rather than reading like an Angell or even a Simmons piece, it reads pretty much like a blog, but, dare I say it, not as good as some of the best baseball blogs. You know, like the Curse guy, or that Beth chick, or the dudes at All Baseball and Hardball Times.

 

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Bill:
Maybe you're a little jealous? Maybe you think somebody should write down some of the shit you say and put it in a little book?

 

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Mike:
Fercrissakes, who the fuck would want to read our daily crap fests?

 

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Bill:
True. You'd be bettah off with a case of frequent micturition.

 

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