Bill: Seriously. Don't they know how we weakened our offense for the sake of defense? Don't they know we stockpiled so much pitching depth that we could trade Arroyo away? Don't they know Theo Epstein is to baseball what Alan Turing was to computers?
Mike: Yep, small sample size and all that which is why I'm not jumping to any conclusions over the Fruit Bat's recent troubles.
Doug: Really. At this point in the season you're better off trolling the web for, er, creative Japanese TV commercials* than you are making baseball predictions.
[*Caveat: The video linked above may not be safe for work. Content is safe, the guise/joke, not so much.]
Bill: I know it must infuriate fans of other teams, but when Manny gets the sweet spot and then stands there as if saying, "Wait for it … Wait for it … Yeah, there it is, Baby. I'm your mofo homerun Manny!" it makes my whole fucking summah.
Doug: What the frig was up with Francona? He was all Doctor Mengele doing a sadistic experiment to see how many pitches Schilling could throw before his arm falls off.
Bill: Yeah, I'd have gone with Batshit Tavarez, but you know, Tito and Schill have their own little "special" relationship.
Bill: Jesus H. Mohammed can you imagine if Clemens chose this Saddadee, the 20 year anniversary of the 20k game, to announce he's coming back to Boston?
Doug: I tell ya, an over-the-top seemingly Hollywood movie scripted scene like that would melt the hearts of even the fiercest Clemens hatahs.
Bill: I count myself among the anti-Clemens crowd, but I tell you what, I want some friggin closure. This whole Clemens hates Boston, Boston hates Clemens has created a fissure in the friggin space-time continuum.
Doug: You know before 2004 I'd have said that chapters like that, return of the prodigal son and all, just don't get written in the Red Sox history book, but now anything seems possible.
While a day off is good for the players, the fans often get a little snarky with extra time on their hands …
Susan/Circle: So of all the telegenic bitches to choose from, NESN selects a Jersey girl who grew up in a family of Yankees fans to be their new field reporter? Jeez.
Susan/Circle: Ah, hello! This chick also said she was rooting for the Red Sox in '04 because if the Yankees won it would have meant she'd have to do "double the work." What the frig?
Mike: But that suggests she's not a fan of eithah team, right, unbiased, neutral, a pure journalist.
Susan/Circle: Dude, are you getting the morning wood for her or something? It took her 244 words to say she's not a Yankees fan and the best proof she offers is that she's lazy? I know her kind. She's a connivah all the way.
Mike: Well, they call her a "walking encyclopedia" so she might bring some cool insights to the on-field reporting.
Susan/Circle: Ohmigod. Listen to yourself. It's embarrassing. I mean, c'mon, Miss Onnibus in Heels says the person she'd most like to spend a day with is Bob Costas? Bob fucking Costas?
Mike: Hey, a lot of people really like Costas.
Susan/Circle: Yeah, well, a lot really like Kenny G. A lot of people thought Fever Pitch was a great movie. A lot of people don't know their ass from their elbow …
Steve: Yeah, our Curly Haired Boyfriend is there to remind us that if Lou Gorman or Dan Duquette had traded Arroyo "there would have been hell to pay" blah blah blah.
Mike: Hell yeah there would have because, you know, last time I checked, neither Gorman or Duquette GM'ed a World Series Championship team.
Mike: Christ, we saw it coming, Papi himself said it was coming, yet when it came it was still a total jaw droppah.
Steve: Do you think it's hypocritical to on the one hand laud Ortiz for doing the obvious when the shift is on, but on the other hand give just as much praise to the legend of Ted Williams for refusing to do anything but hit right at the shift?
Mike: Probably, but who cares? This is baseball. We're allowed to be whimsical and illogical whenever we feel like it.
Bill: So if you want to assemble a pitching staff to bitch slap the Red Sox, forget Randy Johnson, forget Johan Santana, no, you go with Ted Lily and Scott Kazmir fercrissakes.
Bill: Same heah. I mean when I came to the paht where Ryan not so subtly suggests Francona is somehow covering up a "serious problem" with the club, I had to check the byline to make sure I'd hadn't inadvertently stepped in a turd column Shaughnessy grunted out.
Doug: Well we all know how much bettah it'd be if Francona stahted saying, "You know a 6-4 homestand totally sucks. Bard couldn't catch a knuckleball even if it was dipped in poontang. And Manny fercrissakes isn't even hitting his IQ."
Bill: You know thank Jesus H. Mohammed that the balls of fluffanutah doom and gloom crowd become writahs and not baseball skippahs.
Doug: Or worse, tank commandahs or Apache pilots. Shit, dude's would surrendah so fast the French would be jealous.
Doug: Numbah 2, Randy Johnson, "if he couldn't throw a ball 100 miles per hour, Johnson would be wearing a wife beater and getting hauled into a squad car on Cops."
Mike: And I'm still laughing ovah the 8 spot with Bin Laden, "a 6'5", no-vertical-leap mass murdering douche bag is not getting any style points."
Doug: I do quibble with the fact that Woody Allen isn't on the list. And how the frig does Larry David come in higher on the ugly scale than that fat fuck Michael Moore?
Doug: Christ, I know the party line about Stern needing to get at bats, but, considering the friggin highlight reel tear the guy is currently on, can't he, you know, continue to get his plate appearances with the big club until the Coco Crispiness comes back?
Mike: Yeah, well, with the Sox at 11-4 with the best record in the Majahs, it's hahd for me to get my panties too bunched up with management's rostah moves.
Doug: You've got a point. Not much to bitch about is there?
Bill: Perfect symmetry. Though it looks like Brooke Shields won the battle of who'd come up with the stupidest name for their kid: "Grier Hammond Henchy"? Jeez.
Mike: Poor fucking kid.
Bill: So I love this story about how Rays managah Joe Maddon came up with the idea for the Papi-shift while riding his bike.
Mike: Yeah, he says he likes to "think about things like that" during bike rides …
On what has to be one of the best holidays of the year (especially because it's so local), let's take a moment this Patriot's Day to just breathe in and feel good … …
Tara from home: Jonathan Papelbon has more saves than anyone in Major League Baseball. But that's just part of it.
Bill from home: Right. In 7 appearances he's been perfect, not a single run allowed.
Tara from home: And Foulke is on track. And Timlin is good ol' Timlin …
Bill from home: And while this falls into the category of wishful thinking rather than fact, over time Wily Mo is going to learn to play decent right field.
Tara from home: Hell, yeah, he is. I mean if Manny can learn to be a decent outfielder, Willy Mo can.
But not everyone is happy today ……
Lisa the Temp: What you think Lisa the Temp gets a day off to get drunk and watch Kenyans?
Lisa the Temp: It's ironic, of course. I mean who do you think faced off against the British Army on Lexington Green?
Lisa the Temp: That's right, people, temps! Think about it.
Steve: I mean people start going belly up from H5N1 and the CDC's slaughtering birds en masse and telling people to get rid their bird feeders and shit it's going to be tough to go and whoop it the fuck up for the Jays, Cardinals, Orioles …
Bill: Christ, you're right. It'd be like rooting for the Toronto SARS or the Baltimore Bubonics or something.
Steve: Absolutely. And remember, you heard it here first.
Mike: The thing is any pitcher can have a bad night. I mean look at Wakefield's first staht, but the difference between the two is night and day.
Bill: Yeah, Wells is an asshat and doesn't give a shit about winning except in the abstract sense that it may mean more silvah in the pockets of a 60 inch waist pants.
Mike: I'm actually more pissed at the Front Office. I mean everyone knows Wells is a turd, but the FO not only signs him, but then signs him to a contract with an incentive clause based on stahts, then, worst of all, doesn't have the balls to tell Wells he can't start until he, you know, can get out of a triple-A game without shitting his pants.
Bill: Christ, if the management can't grow a set of balls, can't they at least just give Wells the money anyway? Pay him to start in AAA. Pay him to sit on the bench fercrissakes.
Mike: Seriously, if you're going to pay Lardo anyway, at least set yourself up so there is some chance of coming out with a win.
Bill: No duh. If there's some legal mumbo jumbo in the contract stipulating it must by a major league staht, send him out there to throw to just one batter in the first or something.
Mike: I've been giving Wells the benefit of the doubt until now, even finding his antics and diarrhea of the mouth kind of comical, but now he's dead to me.
Bill: You know what totally should have tipped us off? When Yankees fans keep saying things like "Oh, you'll really love Boomah in Boston" and "He's going to be there for you in Septembah and Octobah." What kind of reverse double sneaky mojo is that?
Mike: Yeah, it's like, "Hey, Trojans, we've got this big wooden horse to give you … No, no just ignore those doors and shit, hah hah, I mean, c'mon what do you think we've hidden some dudes in there to come out and slit your throats at night or something? Don't be silly. You'll love this horse come October."
Mike: Yeah, and the preseason rumors of Mike Lowell's death have been greatly exaggerated.
Doug: It's only a blip, but for a guy struggling to regain his stroke, going 4-4 with 3 doubles and treating the Monstah like your personal bitch, is a sweet staht.
Mike: And man, how about Beckett? You've so got to love the negative slope to the line graphed on his pitch count per inning: 36, 15, 12, 14, 13, then, gulp, 5!
Doug: Guess we're going to have to live with an entire season of Beckett's early inning struggles only to be followed by total dominance later on?
Mike: It's paht of his personality, I guess, to staht every game wired up like redneck on a weekend meth bendah.
Doug: So if Beckett comes in like he's cranked, what metaphor should we use for poor Wily Mo Peña?
Mike: Guy I've seen whiskey drunks who are less erratic. You know he pulled the exact same field gaffe, same spot and everything last year when he played Fenway as a Red?
Mike: Oh, boy, this could get ugly for the poor bastard. Every year the fans demand a sacrificial lamb and it's looking like Wily Mo could be the marked one.
Doug: Yeah, we are like shahks smelling blood in the watah, circling, enclosing, circling enclosing.
Mike: So how much faith do you have in the big man Wells tonight?
Doug: "I think our fans, they need to hear some good news, something nice coming through the organization."
Bill: Nice? That's nice by a factah of 10 fercrissakes. Thank you, thank you, thank you Mango Salsa Man.
Doug: Theo says, "David embodies what we want a Red Sox player to be." Talk about hitting the nail on the head.
Bill: We've got Ortiz locked and telling the world how cool it is to be with the Red Sox. We've got Josh Beckett starting the afternoon Home Opener on sunny 60 degree day. Is this heaven?
Doug: I know. I'm happiah than an illegal with fake papahs. Even the bad news about Crisp's broken knuckle is manageable in light of all the othah positives.
Doug: Are you kidding me? It's one of the best things I've evah seen on the internets.
Bill: Two years ago, watching this would have caused me to go into a Kenny Rogers meets cameraman fit of rage. But now that 2004 is in the bag, I can enjoy the video for the pure entertainment brilliance that it is.
Doug: The tragedy has become tragicomedy. "A little rollah"? Heh. I've got your little rollah right heah.
Mike: The Red Sox staht the 06 season with a 5 and 1 road trip but, you know, let's strap on our fucking hairshirts and fiah up a bed of coals to walk ovah because, ohmigod, "only four starters remain from the now legendary championship squad."
Bill: Anyone doubt that Horrigan wrote this piece last week on the assumption the Sox would be returning to Fenway 3 and 3 or worse?
Bill: Christ, I know it's only 6 games in and there are going to be spells during the remaining 156 when I'll be so distraught I'll want to say mean things to small children, but right now this feels so good.
Mike: Absolutely. Know what else? I nevah felt this good, not once, during all of last year.
Doug: Christ, 3 games into the season and I've already got a chubbah for this year's team.
Bill: So don't I. Let's recap shall we? Starting with Coco Crisp.
Doug: Unbelievable, guy. Do we need any more reminders that the front office is, er, a few steps in front of the fans when it comes to evaluating potential talent?
Bill: Absolutely, 3 games in and we already know this much: Crisp is an upgrade ovah Damon, youngah, fastah, and bettah skilled.
Doug: And then there's Curtis Montague Schilling like Moses himself leading the fucking people to the promised land (again). Dude was not only in his best form since the saga of the blood sock on Opening Day, but there he is Wednesday night at the top of the dugout steps cheering on Beckett and Papelbon like it's mid Octobah in New York and not early April in Arlington.
Doug: But maybe the most pleasant surprise of all is Terry Francona going with Papelbon.
Bill: All my life I've watched Red Sox manager's take the NASA approach to baseball. You know, waiting for shit to blow up before fixing it …
Doug: Yeah, and you need look no fahthah back than Francona last season when he kept wheeling Foulke out there on the bring out your dead caht night aftah night …
Bill: Which is why I nearly had a haht attack when Francona went all proactive on our asses in skipping Foulke and going with Paps.
Doug: You know, I saw it and I still can't believe it.
Bill: No mattah how things shake out as the season progresses, this auspicious staht to '06 already has me forgetting the longest offseason and spring training in memory.
Your omniscient author in absentia: Well, it Thursday now, and you've got to wonder if I'm enjoying what Nietzche called "the intoxication of convalescence"?
Your omniscient author in absentia: "A destiny is not something that awaits us, it issomething we have to achieve in the midst of innumerable circumstantial impediments and detours." …
Your omniscient author in absentia: However much your are enjoying a book you are always flicking to the end, counting to see how many pages are left, looking forward to the time when you can put the book down and have done with it.
Your omniscient author in absentia: At the back of our minds, however much we are enjoying a book, we come to the end of it and some little voice is always saing, "Thank Christ for that!"
The Soxaholix are on hiatus until Friday, April 7 …
Lisa the Temp: So how about that, eh? This is how you get rewarded for your faithful readership during the offseason doldrums? Baseball finally starts and now they decide to abandon you for several days? What a bunch of Massholes.
Lisa the Temp: But really maybe now is the time to ask yourself, what the fuck am I doing reading blogs anyway?
Lisa the Temp: But hey that's just me. You know the real trouble with blogs, right?
Lisa the Temp: The trouble with blogs is that they encourage the writing of more blogs.
Lisa the Temp: More guppies crowding the fish tank, more baby rabbits hopping out of their mothers into the dewy grass.
Lisa the Temp: And how will it ever end? Think about it, people.
