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Mike:
Yeah, it's sweet seeing the new team philosophy in action. They capped the money and the length of the contract and said there's your deal, take it or leave it.
Doug:
Gonzalez is actually taking a pay cut, too.
Doug:
Yeah, but why do I know the talk radio lines will be clogged today with a contingent Sox fans pissing and moaning about spending the $3 million?
Mike:
Yep, these are the same people who waste a quartah tank of gas driving across town to save 3 cents a gallon when they fill up.
Doug:
Memo to the penny pinchahs: If you so badly want to root for a small mahket team, then pack up your raggedy ass belongings and head on ovah to Kansas City already.
Bill:
It's amazing just how quickly perceptions can flip …
Bill:
I mean a couple of weeks ago the conventional wisdom was we lost Damon as a result of a front office in disarray and that the Yankees swooped in and took advantage of the Theo-less co-GM'ed Red Sox …
Mike:
You know if he'd lay off with all the "I showed the Red Sox how to stop being afraid of failing" chest beating I might actually have some empathy for what must be a huge ego blow.
Bill:
Yeah, I don't envy his situation. His formah club has snubbed him. He needs to prove to a hostile fan base that he's worth 13 mil a year. He's not getting any youngah.
Mike:
But despite all that why is it I have the sinking feeling that Damon's first in Pinstripe appearance against the Red Sox he'll go 4-for-4 with a stolen base and a walkoff homah?
Bill:
Oh, I'm mentally preparing myself for Damon to kill us all season long, but if that happens we need to remembah the biggah pictchah beyond just this season.
Mike:
Absolutely. As Gammons says, "Allowing Damon to walk and patiently working to get Crisp is what the struggle for the soul of the Red Sox was all about."
Bill:
I haven't felt this optimistic in a long time.
Mike:
I know. The future's so bright I feel like a redneck with his first meth lab.
Mike:
Awesomtastic. Schill's thoughts on Damon going to NY, the CHB, "Manny being Manny."
Steve:
Yeah, Bill Simmons asks the same kinds of questions any of us would have asked.
Mike:
Man, I have to confess I'm like so jealous of Simmons … He's a bettah writah than me, moah clevah than me, has a bettah job than me … Christ he even makes bettah pop cultchah references than me.
Steve:
Dude, could be worse. At least he's one of us. Can you imagine if he were a Yankees fan?
Mike:
In the words of mastah's himself, "I just puked in my own mouth."
Hart Brachen, the blog's author:
Sorry, readers, I got off to a late start this morning, and with nothing much going on (well, I know we fans are supposed to follow the script drafted by the Boston sports pundits of being incensed over the fact that the front office isn't 100% forthcoming with every detail concerning L'affaire Epstein, but, I just can't get too excited about it) I'm going to sit today out.
Hart Brachen, the blog's author:
Oh, and even last night's episode of Lost didn't offer much for the characters to riff on. So see you tomorrow.
Mike:
So Mota was given a clean bill of health by the Red Sox docs, but failed his physical for Cleveland. How's that work?
Doug:
I just hope that "dead" with respect to this deal doesn't translate as Marte and Delcarmen or any othah prospects for Crisp.
Doug:
Yeah, the Shank must have seen Good Night, and Good Luck and now he's got a woody to be the heroic journalist fighting the powah and bringing the truth to the people.
Bill:
Right, because, you know, the biggest issue for Red Sox fans right now is getting to the backstory behind the Theo press conference that was then wasn't.
Doug:
Are you kidding me? Since this story broke, it's all I can think about. I mean what duplicitous machination is at work ovah there at Yawkey Way? Why this sinistah "dramatic depahtchah from the ownahship's media-friendly style"? Only our Shanktastic hero has the journalistic integrity to get to the bottom of this scandal.
Bill:
Absolutely. I mean the jejune sportswriter might mistakenly think Red Sox fans would want to read a piece about, I dunno, our new shortstop Alex Gonzalez.
Doug:
Sure, someone with less savvy than Dan the Man might try to present evidence to back up ESPN's claim that A-Gon's "defense has been Gold Glove quality for the past few years" or how "He has a cannon arm and has thrown runners out from his knees from deep in the hole …"
Bill:
But, hey, you don't get to make self-proclamations about being "at the top of your profession" by writing about the game on the field. Oh, no, not when there's shit going down like cancelled pressahs.
Doug:
Oooh, I smell a Pulitzer.
Continue reading "The Case of the Purloined Presser" »
Mike:
Hey, c'mon now, what happened to "In Theo We Trust"?
Steve:
What happened? Ah, let's see. Our trusty GM leaves Fenway in a gorilla suit, then holds a presser saying he can't be the Red Sox GM because he's not into it anymore and needs to find himself, meanwhile, as it turns out, he didn't really ever leave just kinda sorta did, and there was no power struggle with LL, wink, wink, and, oh by the way, we don't even know what Theo's official role with club is currently.
Steve:
All this and now he wants to trade the team's best prospect since Nomar for, gulp, Coco Crisp?
Mike:
Well, lots of prospects remain just that. Whereas Crisp is a known quantity and brings the club a solid centah fieldah and decent bat.
Steve:
I think even with that feint praise Crisp is getting overrated. Meanwhile, Marte, while still an unknown, was a nice bit of third base insurance in case Lowell sucks and who doesn't really think deep down that Lowell is going to suck? So now midseason we have to trade what, Lester, Papelbond to replace Lowell?
Mike:
I dunno, I'm sticking with Eric Van's philosophy: Nobody panning this trade knows as much about baseball and the Red Sox needs as the guys in the front office making the trade.
Steve:
See that's what I'm talking about. Shapiro is playing Theo like a violin.
Mike:
Yeah, and now many pennants does Shapiro have again?
Steve:
OK, pre-gorilla suit, I'd put Theo over ever GM in the biz. Post-gorilla suit, er, not so much.
Mike:
The birds are in their trees, the toast is in the toaster, the poets are at their windows …
Mike:
Guess this means I need to cease the ritualistic morning micturition of my little Larry Lucchino voodoo doll … And I was so enjoying that.
Bill:
Probably should keep the doll handy, though, just in case.
Bill:
Right now I don't care if Lucky goes or stays, I'm just glad this sad saga is ovah.
Continue reading "Now where were we?" »
Tara:
The kid's not only got nuts the size of Saturn, but the heart of Paul Revere. You go, Bronson.
Now this is the point in the strip where the savvy writer would smoothly transition the reader from a Red Sox discussion into our now regular Thursday "Lost" discussion, but I've got nil in the savvy department just now, thus, dear readers, you're S.O.L. today as far as transitions go, so in media res it is …
Bill:
OK. Let me get this straight, guy formerly known as Groton's fishing man now known as Zeke. If someone comes over to your and house and takes off their shoes and puts their feet up on the table, it gives you the right to steal their children? Come again, dude?
Tara:
Yeah, and if you want people to get off "your" island, maybe when they try to do just that you shouldn't, you know, blow up their raft?
Bill:
Meanwhile, Zeke and the "light 'em up" gang inhabit the mountainous center of the island fahthest from the ocean, yet also have speedy access to the Gorton's fishing boat? How's that work?
Tara:
Yeah, there's always a couple of head scratchers in any Lost episode, but last night was especially egregious. I mean they set up all this back story about Kate being tough as nails, killing her own dad, repeatedly kicking the crap out of a federal marshall, robbing banks, et cetera, yet Zeke puts a bag over her had and gun to her neck and she's all whimpering like a A-Rod after having a Varitek up in his face flashback?
Bill:
No kidding. I might have bought that had aftahwahds she started talking about how she was tortured or something but, nope, instead Kate's all "howya doin' feelin' fine" like nothing happened.
Tara:
Well, I'm just glad somebody, though I never expected it to be Jack, has finally decided to get their collective asses together and try something proactive for a change.
Bill:
Yeah, I'm so looking for to this coming war between the Lostaways and "Them."
Tara:
I'm ready for the Lostaways to start kicking some barefoot, kid stealing bootay. Mr. Eko, Jin, Ana Lucia, Sayid … talk about a "murderer's row."
Doug:
[sings] "O beautiful for bluey lips/ For ambah waves of grain …"
Bill:
Just one thing, Alex, when you're representing Team USA could ya, you know, go easy with that pussy ball slap shit you're infamous for? I'm just sayin' …
Doug:
Yeah, guys like Hugo Chavez and Castro give us enough crap already without any help from your "killa moves," dude.
Bill:
You've got to figure, though, that a meaningless hype-fest like the WBC is just the kind of stage that will bring out A-Fraud's best game. I mean this "tournament" is the polah opposite of an ALCS in Octobah.
Doug:
Absolutely. And remembah, Alex, our great nation turns it's lonely eyes to you, so don't be afraid to, you know, give it the ol' 110%, risk of injury be damned!
Bill:
Alex, ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.
Continue reading "A Real Yanqui Doodle Dandy " »
Bill:
Is it me or is this the dullest offseason evah?
Mike:
I dunno. Maybe we just got spoiled last yeah when there was always some post World Series going on and forgot what a typical January is like?
Bill:
True, but I've gotta confess that whenevah I see the word "quartile" my brain aborts all interest and the next thing you know I'm lost in a Scarlett Johansson fantasy.
Mike:
Nah, the Japanese Mafia in control of a weathah machine to avenge Hiroshima is total nonsense. But believing in a wrathful supreme deity who singles out particular areas for a well deserved smiting, now that shit is for reals.
Doug:
Well, what I just can't undahstand is how yet again the "best" team in the NFL is going home early.
Bill:
Yep, "best" coach, "best" QB, "best" kickah, all scratchin' their asses wondering how the frig it happened.
Doug:
If it wasn't for the irksome annoyance of having to play these silly playoff games each January, the Colts would finally have the dynasty they so truly deserve.
Bill:
You've got to wondah how many yeahs in a row does this have to happen to Indy befoah someone steps up and says, "You know, this losing the big games thing isn't a fluke, isn't chance or bad breaks, but something inherently wrong somewhere in our organization and that something must be addressed"?
Doug:
I'd staht at Dungy and work down, but, hey, that's just me.
Bill:
So now that football and the Pats are off the top of the sports pages, how long you think it'll be before the Red Sox schedule a pressah to announce "something big"?
Doug:
I know. How long can they continue with the facade when we've can all plainly see what's going on …
Bill:
Absolutely. It's just like Brad Pitt Angelina Jolie … Reports of Theo clandestinely meeting with John Henry … Then Henry adopts the two orphan twins, Ben and Jed …
Bill:
Oh, I'm sure Lucky will find his own Vince Vaughn in time.
Susan/Circle:
A young, hahd throwin' stud with a keen olfactory sense, what more could the sophisticated Boston fan ask for?
Mike:
Absolutely. I love that Beckett mentioned the "smell" of Fenway. The scent of the game nevah gets enough attention.
Susan/Circle:
Nothing stirs the soul like turning the corner to approach Fenway and getting that first whiff of sausage, peppahs, and onions …
Mike:
And then the smell of the pahk itself, the tight, close, sinus-filling smell, of rust and hotdog water, of peanuts and flaking leaded paint, the scent of infield chalk settled on cement and warmed in the afternoon sun …
Susan/Circle:
The smell of memory and shahed history …
Mike:
The smell of hope and promise and wondah …
Continue reading "Nosing around" »
Tara:
Sure I do. The front office has finally gotten the memo about the importance of pitching and bullpen depth.
Bill:
True. I mean the writing's on the wall. In 2003 and 2005 there were bullpen issues and it's two more "wait until next year" season. In 2004 the pitching and bullpen is lights out and it's "next year is this year, bitches."
Tara:
Plus at trading deadline time, everyone wants to shore up their pens, so carrying a few extra arms opens up some nice dealing possibilities.
Bill:
True. It's not like the Red Sox are actually going to choose to literally leave those spots on the field empty.
Tara:
And our 2005 shortstop, poor thing, wasn't what you'd call a Hoover at the position and Johnny Judas centerfield flaws were well known, so while there is reason for concern, it's not like having questions marks at those positions is a sign of the coming apocalypse.
Bill:
I like to think of these unknowns about the Sox akin to the black smoke on Lost. You can choose to face it with brass balls like Mr. Eko or you can piss yourself. Choice is all yours.
Tara:
Mr. Eko is the David Ortiz of the Lostaways, all clutch toughness wielding his Jesus stick.
Bill:
Yeah, and Charlie is like the A-Rod of the island, lying and stockpiling his little MVP statues but when shit's on the line, he's found hanging half dead swinging from a tree.
Mike:
Schill looks good though. I love those flip flops he's wearing.
Mike:
Awesome. And Schilling's got the whole Goldfingah swaggah, too …
"Do you expect me to strikeout, Schilling?"
"No, Mr. Rod, I expect you to die."
Doug:
Heh. But get this, dude, I think this offseason is making me friggin' soft.
Mike:
You? Get out, dude.
Doug:
Seriously. I'm losing it. I mean I was so totally going to make fun of this chicken kissing shit but then I'm all "poor fucking little Kurdish kid lost her pet chickens, how sad."
Doug:
See, now that's the thing about Qaddafi, of all the megalomaniacal world leadahs, he's the only one who has the right balance of despotism, wackiness, and humah that results in an antagonist worthy of a Bond villain.
Mike:
Something tells me her name isn't "Pussy Galore."
Doug:
Yeah, more like "Al'Quatcha Diqiz"
Mike:
Man, I totally got Bode Millah faced last night and now I'm going to be dragging my hungovah ass all day.
Bill:
If Bode Millah was a pro ball playah instead of a skiah, sure as shit he'd be playing for the Red Sox. We always get the so-called free spirits.
Mike:
I can already imagine the Shaughnessy column the day aftah the Red Sox version of Bode Millah announces that he occasionally plays drunk: "Bahroom Bums: Season Hopes Awash in Fetal Alcohol Syndrome."
Mike:
Saw that. "My Senator and Me: A Dogs-Eye View of Washington, D.C." Poor friggin' dog, having to listen to TK drone on day aftah day aftah day.
Mike:
That's, ah, one way to look at it … Meanwhile, I wish the Honorable Sentah from Massachusetts would stop with all the Roe v Wade questions during the Alito hearings and ask the Supremes candidate a question that tests the man's true character: "Judge Alito, do you believe Jim Rice should be in the Hall of Fame? Yes or no, judge."
Bill:
Absolutely. His answer would tell us everything we need to know about Alito.
Mike:
If you don't believe Jim Rice is a Hall a'Famah, then what you're really saying is you don't believe in America.
While there isn't much to discuss with the Red Sox, let the talk turn to football …
Bill:
Honestly, I don't think I can take any more friggin' Diet Pepsi Machine commercials while watching football.
Bill:
I probably would only hate it half as much if it involved some team other than the Patriots. That crapfest of a commercial completely tarnishes the Pats' image as a smart, no nonsense, "we will quietly kick your asses" image.
Doug:
Speaking of the Pats' image, don't you love it how the sports pudnuts pooh-pooh the notion that the Patriots don't get enough respect in the media and then proceed directly to writing or saying something that completely disrespects the Patriots?
Bill:
Oh, absolutely. Take the Post's Wilbon on Saturday. He tells everyone Brady is "delusional" because Brady's been "on the cover of every magazine this season except Ebony" as if, you know, one automatically disproves the other. Then Wilbon goes on to say that the Patriots suck and will get beat by Denvah.
Doug:
Yeah, and then to add insult to injury, Wilbon disses those who did give some respect to the Pats during the first half struggles suggesting that it wasn't deserved since, you know, the Pats couldn't win consecutive games.
Bill:
Yeah in the Pats' first half of the season they not only are decimated by injury but are adjusting to a new defensive coordinator and facing the toughest stretch of schedule in NFL history and, by the way, the coach's dad dies along the way, but, hell, the least little praise for coming out of that and still contending is, you know, considahed ovah the top and shit by dudes like Wilbonna.
Bill:
Right then continues with the classic no respect thing of saying the Patriots didn't really win so much as the othah team played poorly and gave it to them. Jeez. When will it evah end?
Doug:
I know it. I half expect an asterisk next to the record for 10 consecutive playoff wins saying, "doesn't fully count because the other teams played poorly on each occasion."
Bill:
Tom Brady could raise Lazarus from the dead and the media would be all, "Because Peyton Manning was too busy healing lepers and couldn't be at the tomb of Lazarus, Tom Brady got lucky and was able to bring him back to life. Of course, Lazarus wasn't really dead, he was only sleeping. And Brady really bettah get his act togethah because the Patriots are just two fishes and five loaves and that isn't going to get it done."
Lisa the Temp:
I'm baaaack! Lisa the Temp in 2006 yet still stuck with the computer from 1986 … Anyone want to play Lemonade Stand in BASIC? But I digress … Your buddy Brachen left this note …
Written on a PostIt note (image):
Lisa the Temp:
Poor little blogger doesn't feel so good. What a wussy. He'd never make it as a temp.
Continue reading "Illin'" »
Doug:
Nope. Nuh-uh. I'm not doing it … I'm no longah going to discuss a Manny trade until or if something actually happens. I want no paht of guesses and rumahs.
Mike:
OK. Settle down Beavis. So what's your topic, The Rose Bowl? The Rescue Cat? …
Doug:
Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I don't believe it!
Mike:
You know, I was ready to believe until I heard how the guy says he'd been "training" a cat to dial the phone. Who the fuck trains a cat? I mean, c'mon.
Doug:
That's just it: You can't fucking train a cat can you? I mean when I go to Logan, I don't see Max the Bomb Sniffing Cat now do I?
Mike:
Well, to be fair, that's more of smelling thing than a training thing, right?
Doug:
OK. Whatev. Then where in fuck are all the "seeing eye cats" leading the blind, huh? Where's the cat obstacle course competitions on ESPN?
Mike:
Absolutely. And look at what happened to that poor weirdo Roy? There's your trained cat for ya.
Doug:
But don't get me wrong. I'm not anti-cat, not one of those cat hatahs or ailurophobes anything.
Mike:
As a single guy, you can't be openly anti-cat in this town anyway, I mean, what, like 75% of single chicks have a cat or three.
Doug:
No kidding, and every one of them forces you to pass the Pussy Test. If the cat likes you, you're wicked set …
Mike:
And if the cat doesn't like you, you're not totally on the outs, but you've got to expend double the enahgy trying to convince the chick that her cat's aversion to you isn't some sort of barometah signalling some fatal character flaw in you.
Doug:
Which is why the savvy Boston M4W doesn't show up at a chick's apartment without two things: catnip and a condom.
Mike:
Dude, that is brilliant. For reals!
Doug:
Yeah, that's why I'm the Theo Epstein of the hook up scene — I don't have the deep pockets to bring the bling, so I have to play smahtah than the competition to win.
Mike:
Yeah, I'm surprised he doesn't also demand a meeting with the Pope and a video shoot, wink wink, with Paris Hilton, not that the missus would evah go for the lattah but, hey, why not try, you know? Manny being Manny and all that.
Mike:
Right, but he also says the Sox in '06 should still be a top-six offense, and subtly suggests a Theo return this month. Gotta love that "insidah" information, you know? I feel so much more enlightened now.
Bill:
Are you scared of coming in 3rd and no playoffs this coming season?
Mike:
Nope. In 2009 we'll look back at stockpiling draft picks, letting veterans playahs go by not ovahpaying in their declining years, and adding young prospects as amazing front office prescience.
Mike:
Sorry, you're on your own there.
Doug:
Hey, Arturo, whatcha got for me to staht 2006?
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
So this guy comes up to me and asks, "I'm from out of town, where's the best place to get scrod?" And I sez, "Buddy, I get asked that all the time, but nevah befoah in the pluperfect subjunctive."
Doug:
Heh. Well, there's no dish like a Boston fish.
Doug:
Jeez, you think there's anything to this latest rumah?
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Hell if I know, but I tell ya, asking to be traded because you got caught passing up the home cooking in favah of a little carry out, makes as much sense as asking to be traded so that you can go to the mall without being recognized, right?
Doug:
Evah wondah what it'd be like to root for a, I dunno, normal baseball team?
