Al:
Well, so much for having ovah .500 to yak about on Monday.
Al:
Still it was a nice streak of wins.
Mike:
Anyone else a bit concerned about what we might see out of Lester and Beckett the next time out after having pitched into the 120s in April?
Doug:
Meh, the average pitch count for those guys is just over 100, so no biggy.
Mike:
Maybe. But The difference between 100 and 125 can be pretty significant.
Mike:
Ovah the weekend Beckett tied a career record for pitches, and Lester's start was his 5th or 6th most pitches evah.
Al:
Well, you know, the Red Sox aren't about numbahs anymore.
Doug:
Except for the 1's and 0's on the filthy merch lucre, of course.
Mike:
You know, it's the abandonment of the "moneyball" thing that is really at the root of my fan disenchantment.
Mike:
We can point to individual events that give one pause — deciding to go with Valentine, the Septembah collapse, the loss of Theo, Lackey, Crawford — but those are just the symptoms of the disease.
"Before Crawford came along, the Red Sox believed in plate discipline as much as anything else. Then they spent $142 million on a relatively free-swinging slasher who had never so much as hit 20 home runs in a season."
In a group of Soxaholix, a woman speaks:
No Soxaholix strip today? Yeah, well, I heard that Brachen said he'd be taking Fridays off whenever the Sox are under .500.
In a group of Soxaholix, a woman speaks:
I know, what a pussy, right?
Bill:
You know the odds of taking a 9-run into the 6th and then eventually losing are like 1 in 25,000?
Mike:
You know the odds of suffering the worst end of season collapse since the Mayans combined with beer and chicken histrionics only for things to get so much worse that you look back at those times as "Meh, you know, that wasn't so bad"?
Mike:
Infinifuckingtesimals.
Bill:
The craziest thing is knowing that I've felt a whole lot worse.
Mike:
Seriously, it's like I've reached some highah plane of existence beyond suffering.
Bill:
My mind is flooded with the pure light of nirvana.
Doug:
Yep, and nothing says Happy Birthday like a 4 and 8 ball club dressed like milkmen from days of yore.
Mike:
Killjoy.
Al:
Yeah, c'mon, Doug turn that frown upside down. Just think, last year they were 2-10 aftah 12... if they'd been 4-8 they'd have made the postseason.
Mike:
Check it out. Not just the postseason but the postseason *and* beer and chicken.
Doug:
Hey, guys, Titanic just called, they've got an opening rearranging the deck chairs.
Doug:
Dude, if he were any more comfortable he'd be having beer and chicken in the dugout.
Doug:
But I'm guessing the Rangers don't do that.
Mike:
On the brightside...
Doug:
There's a friggin brightside?
Mike:
Yeah, I mean it's like this — Since there really has been no end to the grieving that began last Septembah, you know the crash and burn to the season, the off offseason, the naming of Valentine, so on and so forth until here we are and, well, I've moved through all 5 stages of grief to find myself quite comfortably here at "acceptance."
Mike:
This team is probably going to define mediocrity and miss the playoffs, but, I've made peace with that outcome.
Doug:
You said "probably" so I gathah you still hahbah some hope?
Mike:
Well, you know what they say, the hahbah may be full of dirty watah, but I stil love it.
Doug:
I'd love to chalk my indifference up to a ceratain self-aware media sophistication, but I think it really comes down to the fact that ever since L'affaire de Poulet I'm totally, absolutely jaded.
Mike:
Perhaps being jaded is the root of all sophistication?
Al:
All I know is I miss the childhood days of baseball when all that mattered was Topps cahds, mimicking the stance of your favorite playah in Whiffle, and how the grass was so green at Fenway that it practically blinded you coming out of the concourse...
Al:
And one was blissfully unaware of the sordid reality show taking place off the field.
Mike:
As Giamatti said, "They are memories of our best hopes. They are memories of a time when all that would be better was before us, as a hope, as the hope was fastened to the game."
Doug:
Goddamnit, the Red Sox are ruining my autotelic activities!
Susan/Circle:
The greatest regional holiday in the world.
Mike:
The greatest regional holiday evah!
Susan/Circle:
One if by land, two if by sea
Hey, Luke Scott, how you be?
Mike:
Through every Middlesex village and fahm,
The folk flip Luke the fingah with a "vulgah" foreahm.
Susan/Circle:
In the hour of darkness and peril and need, / The fans reawaken to a hopeful reprise -- / Some hefty slugging, an offensive stampede / O! The timely resurgence of David Ortiz!
Doug:
Well, let's just keep trying... I mean the Sox front office has put the time and effort and money into the 100 Year Anniversary at the exclusion of everything else including putting a winning team on the field.
Doug:
So this hyped up birthday bash is all we've friggin got at this point.
Bill:
No worries. I heard Ashley Judd's Puffy Face might be available.
Mike:
You know, in theory I'm actually OK with the thought of the 2012 club as work in progress and waiting for the whole thing to come together but...
Mike:
But that is based on the presumption that they are toiling away on an eventual masterpiece...
Doug:
Yeah, I went to ritualized sacrifice and a Red Sox game broke out.
Bill:
Hey, remembah this from last week: "THE GOOD THING IS EVEN A REPLACEMENT OF A REPLACEMENT TEAM SHOULD OUTPERFORM THE 2011 CLUB'S START LAST APRIL."?
Al:
So if 2011 was the blockbustah "Epic Collapse" then what went down in Game 1 is looking like the trailah for the sequel "Epic Collapse 2: Fail Hahdah!"
Doug:
Yippee-ki-yay, mothahfuckhas.
Mike:
Look I'm just glad the friggin Mayans invented zero because otherwise we'd be walking around saying the Red Sox are "___________ and one" on the season.
Doug:
Speaking of the Mayans, you evah wondah if at some point in the distant future tourists from a post-post-post apocalyptic culture will be wandering around the ruins of Fenway like it's a Chichen Itza...
Doug:
And the tour guide will say, "Our archeologists still don't know what caused the sudden catastrophic collapse of this ancient, once thriving culture..."
Doug:
"Even more puzzling is that evidence suggests that prior to the collapse in the early part of what their calendars marked as the 21st Century the so called Red Sox tribes were at the height of their power and influence... "
Al:
I wondah what the gift shop would be like?
Mike:
Probably lots of little rented sunset knickknacks.
Mike:
I know I should be taking the optimistic view that if you're gonna lose Bailey for 3-4 months it's bettah lose him now than in July...
Doug:
But the glass is half full and spiked with roofies side of you keeps pointing out that the best on-paper acquisition in an awful offseason doesn't make it out of spring training.
Mike:
Exactly.
Doug:
So much for seeing another Red Sox World Series Pennant before the world ends on 12/21/2012.
Mike:
Yeah, I'm trying to figure out who is the worst prognisticator for future risk—The Mayan Civilization or the Red Sox front office.
Mike:
I mean on the one hand you have the Mayans who were only off in predicting the collapse of their world by a 1000 years or so...
Mike:
Or the Red Sox front office who, well... you know...
Doug:
At least the fucking Mayans invented zero.
Mike:
Yeah, and we'll be making a lot of use of it around here.
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
It looks like the Sox want to limit Bard's innings, at least for now, by keepin him in the 5 spot where he'll be skipped here and there...
Doug:
Doubrant, eh?
Doug:
Well, you know what they say, "Only mediocrity can be trusted to be always at its best."*
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
With all due respect, Mr. Roy, let's remembah who Doubrant is replacing—John Lackey.
