End of Story

Bill:
So can we finally write the final sentence in this supposed Cindahrellah story of the Rays?

 

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Doug:
You mean the version where Cindahrellz doesn't get the bling and has to return home as a floor scrubbing wench?

 

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Bill:
Yeah, and where she tries to convince everyone that, you know, even if she didn't get to marry the Prince and live happily evah aftah in glimmahring castle and have a pumpkin coach victory parade that it was still *quite* an achievement to get to go to the ball at all and surely, surely, she'll get to go again next year.

 

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Doug:
The evil step-sistah in me says, guess again, bitch. Get your mangy ho-hawk back down to the cellah where you belong.

 

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Bill:
Seriously, it cracks me up every time I read one of these "the Rays are here to stay" stories.

 

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Doug:
I know. And weren't the Tigahs going to be the young, perennially contending leviathan for years to come aftah they, like the Rays, came out of nowhere to get to the World Series in '06?

 

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Bill:
Yeah, wow's that working out for ya, Detroit?

 

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Bittah makes it bettah

Al:
So is anyone surprised that these World Series games are some of the lowest rated evah?

 

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Mike:
Not at all. I mean you can take the Rays out of last place, but you can't take the last place out of the Rays.

 

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Doug:
Oh, and by the way Tampa Bay — Thanks for representing the American League by rolling ovah for the Phillies.

 

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Al:
Well whatdya expect? They came into this season losahs and they are going out of this season as losahs.

 

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Doug:
But, hey, you know, at least it isn't a total loss. All 6 or so chicks who got those Ho-Hawks don't have the trim the lawn for anothah 3 to 6 weeks.

 

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Recharging my batteries

Your omniscient author in absentia:
I haven't yet decided on a publishing plan for this coming off season, but I am going to take the rest of the week off.

Also the characters will be making a guest appearance on the Yankees' blog Bronx Banter probably next week as part of the "Yankee Stadium Memory" series. I'll link it up when it happens.

 

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ALCS closure, already

Bill:
Christ, I'm already feeling good again. Who knew that losing to the Rays would be so forgettable?

 

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Doug:
Seriously. Turns out losing to the Rays is about as damaging to the psyche long term as losing a game of putt-putt golf to your sistah.

 

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Bill:
So did you hear the news that the Yankees, Cowboys, and Goldman Sachs have formed a partnership on stadium concession sales?

 

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Doug:
Jeez, could you pick 3 more hated, greedy, unrepentant organizations in all of America? I mean what next, name OJ Simpson to run it?

 

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Bill:
Really. When you combine the megalomania of Jerry Jones with the Steinbrennahs who knows where it'll end.

 

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Doug:
Absolutely. One day it's hot dogs and mustard they're pedaling, and the next day they're selling stolen Chinese babies to rich couples looking to adopt.

 

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Bill:
But, you know, seeing how both the Cowboys Suck and the Yankees Suck, it makes sense to diversify the business and all. Can't count on the teams bringing any bling.

 

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In your Rayhawks and your vaca bells (You look the picture of contented new wealth)

Bill:
Ugh. I wasn't prepared for this.

 

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Mike:
It's funny how quickly you can forget just how horrible it feels to lose.

 

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Bill:
Seriously, and the friggin' balance is all whacked. I mean think about it — losing feels worse than winning feels good. Why the frig is that?

 

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Mike:
Winning is ephemeral … always somehow outside of you … know what I mean?

 

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Bill:
I do. Absolutely. It's like even after the World Series victories, as happy as I was, I didn't really own it, never felt quite like I had all that it could give, always that feeling that there is even more joy in victory out there if I can just work hahdah to find it.

 

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Bill:
Losing on the other hand just crawls right up inside of you and makes itself at home. It has weight. It has presence.

 

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Mike:
Winning is like taking your joy and writing it on water, while losing is like having your remorse tattooed all across your ass.

 

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2008 ALCS Post Game 6 Open Thread

Hart Brachen:
Last night I realized the the word which perfectly describes the Red Sox in the ALCS is brinkmanship,

 

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Hart Brachen:
That is "the technique or practice of maneuvering a dangerous situation to the limits of tolerance or safety in order to secure the greatest advantage."

 

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Hart Brachen:
Sounds about right, huh?

 

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Ring your bell-el-el -- Ringah, dingah ding

Al:
Holy Mary mothah of the dude who walked on watah, what *was* that?

 

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Doug:
That was "The Miracle of Late Hits and Wicked Pissahs" is what that was.

 

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Al:
The seven-run deficit was the largest overcome in a postseason game since Game 4 of 1929 World Series."

 

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Doug:
And that my friends and fellow citizens of Red Sox Nation is what we call Red Sox Baseball!

 

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Al:
Unbelievable.

 

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Doug:
Absolutely, literally, totally unbelievable.

 

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Mike:
Seriously, guy — I couldn't be any more in the middle of it and yet I still find it difficult to get a friggin grip on it.

 

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Mike:
We've gone from the infamous team that no mattah how close to winning it all, we nevah will. To the team that no mattah how close to absolute defeat, you can nevah count 'em out.

 

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Al:
Josh Beckett for Game 6?

 

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Doug:
Why the frig not? We've got to win the next two no mattah what.

 

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Mike:
Besides I've got a feeling we are going to finally see the nasty, squint-eyed, battah leering, whoop-assing redneck side of Josh Beckett on Saddadee night.

 

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Doug:
That's right Tampa Bamians — Time to ring your dinky bells and slick up your Ray-ho-hawked pubes because the Red Sox are in your dome pressuring your doodz.

 

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Nothing left to say

Just win tonight.

Mike:
Well…

 

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Doug:
Mmm-hmm

 

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Mike:
Yep.

 

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Getting the piss drained out of us

Mike:
Hmmm …

 

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Bill:
Well, it's like we were saying yestahday …

 

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Bill:
Aftah a beat down you pick yourself off the floor and get back in there for anothah round where, of course, you'll be beat down twice as hahd as the first time.

 

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Mike:
Is Tampa Bay good or are we just bad?

 

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Bill:
Does it mattah when you're down to what could be the final game of the season?

 

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Mike:
Bob Ryan calls the Rays a "youthful dream team" who "could be an impediment to [our] AL East success for many more years."

 

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Bill:
Maybe. Yeah. Whatev. I'm just too friggin black and blue to contemplate the future right now.

 

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Bill:
When this is ovah, I need to go on a long vacation from sports.

 

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Mike:
It's like Bill Simmons says, "You love sports most when you're 16, then you love it a little bit less every year."

 

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Bill:
Tell me about it.

 

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Determined and undeterred

Bill:
Ah, well …

 

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Bill:
Sometimes you're just going to get the crap beaten out of you.

 

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Mike:
And the only thing you can do is pick yourself up off the floor and prepare yourself to take it to 'em next time 'round.

 

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Bill:
Absolutely. And it's a frig of a lot easier to get up off the floor these days than it was in, say, 2003.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, in the old days I'd be on the floor in a fetal position with snot running out of my nose while whimpering and asking "Why does God hate us?"

 

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Bill:
Besides considering the how the Red Sox have played the ALCS historically, we have the Rays right where we want them.

 

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Mike:
Well, almost. I think we need to get into a 1-3 hole first.

 

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Bill:
We choose to go to the moon and fall behind in the ALCS and these othah things not because they are easy, but because they are hahd.

 

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Winning cures the blues

Doug:
I think I must be coming down with something …

 

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Doug:
I mean here are the Sox 1-1 in the ALCS coming home to Fenway with their newfound ace taking the mound and yet I feel more down than up.

 

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Mike:
Ah, you're just hungovah from the Saturday night debacle. Focus on how awesome Matsuzaka was on Friday and how studly Lestah's gonna be tonight.

 

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Al:
So are we completing writing off Beckett these days?

 

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Doug:
I don't see why not. He came into camp fat and out of shape. He was mediocre all season. He's probably hurt as well. I mean let's be realistic here.

 

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Al:
As much as I miss the 07 Beckett, what I really miss is the the Ol' Papi.

 

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Doug:
Seriously, remembah when you'd get chills every time he stepped into the box?

 

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Al:
Yeah, but now all I get is clammy and find myself thinking, "Oh, maybe he'll get a walk!"

 

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Mike:
Christ, can we stop the pity pahty all ready? You guys are saddah than Jamie Lynn Spears on a grocery shopping trip.

 

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Mike:
What the frig. This is 2008 and it's here now.

 

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Mike:
With new stahs, and new unexpected opportunities. Just as Lestah is this season's Becket, Papi's has declined is Pedroia's ascendency.

 

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Mike:
So on and so forth. Red Sox Über Alles!

 

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ALCS Post Game 2 Homily

Scene from a church:
Remembah …

 

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Father Tim:
It is easiah for a camel to go through the eye of a needle …

 

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Father Tim:
than it is for Mike Timlin to preserve a lead or tie in extra innings.

 

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Father Tim:
And for Josh Beckett, let us pray …

 

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Scene from a church:
. . .

 

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ALCS Post Game 1 Open Thread

Rider on Green Line:
Matsuzaka takes a no-no into the 7th? How sweet it is.

 

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Bettah numbahs, hottah chicks. Advantage Red Sox.

Doug:
I tell you what. If that "V juice" from True Blood were real, I'd be rocking the hemo every weekend.

 

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Mike:
Let's hope Matsuzaka has something good flowing through his veins tonight. Taking game 1 would be sweet.

 

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Doug:
You know when you run the numbahs, it's like how and the frig can the Red Sox even lose this thing? They dominant the Rays in pretty much every cat.

 

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Mike:
And yet …

 

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Doug:
Yeah, and yet …

 

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Mike:
So have you heard about the supposed "Rayhawk bikini wax" craze sweeping the Tampa Bay area?

 

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Doug:
Man, the word "craze" has certainly been dumbed down when 1 "spatique" giving a couple landing strips to women who have no business evah being seen naked counts as a "craze"

 

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Mike:
Seriously. You do a news story on a bikini wax and you don't show or talk to even one young, hot chick in the story? I knew Tampa Bay was lame, but christ, that's the friggin' lame-o-nade.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, I'm now going to go spend 15 minutes on the sexysoxgirls site to purge the image of that bitch's middle-aged Lane Bryant waxed vajajay from my mind.

 

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Mike:
Help me, Christiami, help me get her outta my head.

 

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Frankly, haters, we don't give a damn

Mike:
Bob Ryan says the Trop is going to be "filled" tomorrow night.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, but what he doesn't say is how many will actually be rooting for the Red Sox?

 

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Mike:
Hey, haven't you heard — Everybody hates the Boston now. We win too much.

 

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Doug:
I don't have a problem with that. Hate on, pwned people.

 

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Mike:
Seriously. I find that the more I'm hated the happier I am.

 

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Doug:
Think about it. Since 2001 our teams have won 6 world championships. What's not to hate?

 

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Mike:
Absolutely. If right now you're from some dime a dozen city of sports neerdowells and you don't hate the Red Sox, the Pats, and the Celts, then you bettah check your pulse to see if you're still alive?

 

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Mike:
And the thing people can't really understand until they are the ones stockpiling the bling (as unlikely as that may be) is just how amusing it is to hear how insufferable we Boston fans are for 1) enjoying the taste of victory and 2) wanting even more victory and 3) getting annoyed when we are denied even more victory.

 

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Doug:
Fuck yeah. I'd rathah a billion people hate us for being winnahs than 1 person pity us for being on the wrong end of "a little rollah"

 

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Mike:
As God is my witness, I'll nevah be pitied again.

 

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How's Dice-K with flooring the geriatrics?

Doug:
OK, people, time to grease your genitals and Chlorox your no-no hole — It's AL Pennant defense time.

 

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Bill:
Nothing friggin like it. I still can't believe this — 4 ALCS appearances in the last 6 seasons. Un.Buh.Lievable.

 

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Doug:
So who stahts game 1? I'm hearing a lot of people suggesting Dice-K to give Beckett another recovery day.

 

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Bill:
Ah, perfect, because, you know, there's nothing I'd rather do between now and Friday night than chew and tinfoil and wondah which Matsuzaka will show up — The wildly wild Matsuzaka or the mildly wild Matsuzaka.

 

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Doug:
Seriously. I need to go ovah to the Topsfield Fair and ask the freak show guy if I can borrow his fucking bed of nails to lay on while watching the game.

 

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Bill:
So leave it to Shaughnessy to find a way to pound on the series with his historical sledgehammah.

 

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Doug:
What I want to know is to Tampa Bay get permission from the doctahs to take Zimmah off the life support machines? Dude is oldah than dirt.

 

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Bill:
And he looks more like a gerbil than evah.

 

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Doug:
Gotta love this line from Zim: "Why wouldn't you think you can win when you win 97 games?"

 

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Author's Notes
Doug's first line is a derivation of this original from Dlisted.

Bill:
I dunno Zimmah, why don't you call up your buddy Sciosa and ask him?

 

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How fine the Autumn air!

Al:
That's 4 AL Championship Series appearances in the out of the past 6 seasons …

 

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Al:
I've got your "Viva Viagra" right heah!

 

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Mike:
I tell you *that* was a helluva a game.

 

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Al:
Yeah, leave it to Bob Ryan to put it bettah than anyone: "It was an evening of superb baseball, ending with two innings of the kind of drama that only baseball among all our sports can provide."

 

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Doug:
And now we finally know what 100 wins the weak AL West is worth: exactly 1 postseason win.

 

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Doug:
You can run your suicide squeezes against Texas in July, but against the Red Sox in Octobah? Get a fucking clue, Sciosa.

 

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Mike:
And can we say without a doubt that the two best teams in the American League are meeting in the Championship Series? Bet your ass we can.

 

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Al:
But, of course, the Rays are due to fold any minute now. Heh.

 

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Doug:
No, the Rays aren't going to fold. But they are going to get the piss taken out of 'em by the Built for Octobah Red Sox.

 

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Mike:
You know I appreciate what the Rays have done for us this season. If they hadn't kicked ass all year the Red Sox would have run away with the Division and very well might have been as complacent and as flaccid as the Angels come the postseason.

 

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Mike:
But now it's time for the regulah season upstahts to be properly put back in their place.

 

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Doug:
That's right. It's the season of mist and mellow fruitfulness and Red Sox ass whippingness.

 

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Al:
Swell the gourd, baby!

 

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Living through our vocations

Bill:
Christ we finally get a game at a reasonable staht time and it goes down like that?

 

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Doug:
Guess we should have been more suspicious of Beckett's health status reports. I mean he goes from a "potential season ending" injury to "nah, just kidding, he's fine" in the span of week? I don't think so.

 

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Bill:
Yet the man himself says is health is fine.

 

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Doug:
Well it was obvious there was something wrong with him.

 

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Bill:
Absolutely. I mean he shook off Tek so often that I thought Beckett had the fucking palsy.

 

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Doug:
Well, the Red Sox bettah close this thing out tonight because I can't take too much more of it.

 

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Bill:
What, the stress?

 

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Doug:
No, the friggin Frank TV ads.

 

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Bill:
Seriously, it wasn't enough to bombard us during the 2007 ALDS so TBS has to ratchet it up for '08?

 

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Doug:
I hate Frank. I hate TBS. I hate Ted Turnah. I hate the entiah city of Atlanta especially their godforsaken shit hole of an airport.

 

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Bill:
Like I've always said, William Tecumseh Sherman had the right idea.

 

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There's gonna be a haiku tonight, a haiku tonight, I know

Bill:
Tampa Bay manages to avoid reversion to suckitude in game 163, but their collapse remains imminent. Heh.

 

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Mike:
Seriously. The Rays could be hoisting the World Series trophy on their shoulders and we'd still be all "any days now those fuckahs are going to revert to the mean!"

 

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Bill:
So how are we feeling about Dice-K tonight?

 

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Mike:
Well, it's like this:

A red crowd pales
Thunderstick thicket silent --
Matsuzaka-san!

 

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Bill:
And this:

A distant rumbling
The rally monkey cowers --
Caballito hooves.

 

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Funny how we're not even tired today

Al:
Well, *that* was worth staying up for.

 

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Al:
Youkilis, Ellsbury, Bay, and, drumroll please … Jon Motherfucking Lestah.

 

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Mike:
I get the chills just saying the name.

 

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Doug:
Are you kidding me? My immune system gets 20% strongah by just saying his name.

 

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Doug:
He dominated the Angels. He pwned the Angels. He put the Angels on the head of a pin and made them dance chasing his cuttah.

 

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Mike:
The Angels are mere run of the mill angels while Jon Lestah is a mofo archangel.

 

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Al:
So let me get my head around this. We have the lefthanded ace in Game One and the righhanded ace in Game 3?

 

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Doug:
Seriously. Talk about your Scylla and Charybdis.

 

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Mike:
No kidding. Scylla and Charybdis and between them blows the divine wind, Matsuzaka.

 

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Doug:
Game on, Orange County, Game on.

 

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At last the game is just a game

Bill:
Without a doubt this is the most relaxed I've evah been at the staht of postseason play.

 

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Bill:
Now, don't get me wrong. By being relaxed I don't mean to imply that I'm particularly confident in the Red Sox chances.

 

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Mike:
Seriously. All the pressure is on the Angels. We are the banged up and iffy underdogs.

 

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Mike:
Like Bob Ryan wrote the othah day, we are playing with "house money."

 

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Bill:
But it's more than there being pressure on the best-record Halos or the upstaht Rays to prove they are for real …

 

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Bill:
For the first time in my life, there is absolutely nothing to prove for the Red Sox. They just have to go out and play a baseball game.

 

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Bill:
And if they get beat, be it in 5 games, 4 games, or swept off their asses in 3 games, it won't be because of "the Curse" or Harry Frazee of racist ownahship or Manny dogging it or any of the other myriad palliations we've heard and bought into ovah the years.

 

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Bill:
No, it'll simple be because they were beat by a bettah team. Simple as that.

 

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Bill:
I don't think it's possible to explain to someone who wasn't a Red Sox fan long before 2004 just how incredibly liberating a feeling this is.

 

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Mike:
Righteous.

 

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