Final Friday of Spring Training (At last!)

Mike:
Well, now that she's been released I can finally say it: I think that Jill Carroll chick is kinda hot.

 

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Doug:
The brainwashed chick in the head scarf and wonky glassed? Ohmigod, no.

 

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Mike:
You got a problem with that?

 

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Doug:
You're friggin' whacked, guy. Why can't you just stick with lusting after Hazel Mae like any normal horny Red Sox fan?

 

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Mike:
See I don't like to mix the two worlds … I mean if I've got a celebrity crush for Hazel Mae and I've got the man love for Manny Ramirez, but then on TV Hazel Mae is interviewing Manny, well, it just gets weird.

 

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Doug:
Well, shit, maybe you can get a job as Jill Carroll's drivah. I hear there's an opening.

 

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Mike:
That's cold, dude. Really cold.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, well, here's some man bites dog news for you: Tavarez pitched an inning yesterday and shows incredible restraint in not going totally apeshit on anyone. Whoo-hoo!

 

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Mike:
Hey, we're just lucky Tavarez and A-Rod have never joined forces. The ball slap combined with the girlie punch would just be too much of a 1-2 beating for any man to withstand.

 

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Doug:
You know the guy Tavarez punched, Gathright, has a black belt in Tae Kwon Do? Tavarez is lucky Gathright didn't go all Kill Bill on his ugly ass.

 

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Mike:
I shouldn't root against my own team, but I'd pay scalpah prices to see that. I've got a really bad feeling about Tavarez.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, right now on Yawkey way I can imagine this conversation: "Hello, Voros? Yeah, it's Theo. Whatever you're working on drop it. I want you 100% on developing a probabalistic model of guys going totally CoocooBananas. And hurry."

 

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We all have our roles to play

Bill:
You know we do our share of ripping on the mainstream sports media, so it's only fair, then, to cheer when they give us something worthwhile …

 

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Bill:
This Kelsie Smith piece on Bill James combined with the Globe's publication of John Henry's original email from August 2003 inviting James to come work with the Red Sox were both an incredible joy to read this morning.

 

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Mike:
Absolutely, I love reading how James fits that classic artistic genius stereotype of being so uninterested in anything that isn't connected to baseball numbers that he forgets to mow his lawn for 3 months in the summah ands lets his house totally fall to shit but nevah notices until the insurance company says something about it.

 

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Bill:
So don't I. It's like those stories about how Einstein couldn't find his way home or how William Faulkner, when he suddenly got the idea for The Fable while walking around his house, just proceeded to write it out right there on his living room wall rathah than taking the time to find a sheet of papah and risk losing the sweet caress of the muse.

 

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Mike:
And how about this gem: "But perhaps the two most important Bill James devotees are John Henry and Epstein. Henry first read a James abstract in the early 1980s and says as an adult he waited for new Bill James books like he waited for new Beatles albums as a kid."

 

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Bill:
Seriously, that tells us more about why John Henry did everything possible to make certain Theogate was resolved the way it finally was than anything else I've read.

 

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Mike:
Henry says, "When Bill James arrives for a stint in Boston, it really feels like baseball's wizard has arrived." Christ, must be cool to have that kind of effect on people.

 

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Bill:
Well, you know what they say: Those who can, do. Those who can't become clip art.

 

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The nut doesn't fall far from the tree

Steve:
I feel like we're in that movie Ground Hog day. Every morning I wake up and it's still Spring Training.

 

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Mike:
Seriously. Has a Spring Training ever lasted so friggin' long?

 

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Steve:
People are getting so frustrated that their behavior has become erratic. I mean how else do you explain this bizarre vandalism in Blackstone ?

 

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Mike:
Scaling a barbed wire fence, destroying an electrical panel in Blackstone of all places? That's just plain weird.

 

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Steve:
Meanwhile, we don't need any paternity tests to prove Renee Roszel is Randy Johnson's progeny. The poor kid looks just like him.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, she's 16 and 6 feet 1. Wow. Wondah if she can pitch?

 

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Steve:
So the kid can't go to school because of all the media attention … Now, see the importance of a two-parent family and why Randy needs to be a part of his daughter's life?

 

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Mike:
Absolutely. I mean daddy Big Unit needs to teach the Lil' Unit how, when the media gets in your face, you stiff arm 'em right propah.

 

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These go to 11

Bill:
I don't mean to alarm anyone, but there's a possibility Julián Tavárez has some, ah, angah management issues.

 

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Doug:
I guess it's only fitting that Tavárez flips out and goes mental against the Devil Rays because, you know, it's not like there's any bad blood between the two clubs or anything.

 

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Bill:
It's one of life's most amusing ironies that the Devil Rays have become the most likely team to go all DEFCON1 when playing the Sox.

 

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Doug:
Well, now that Johnny Damon has supposedly been tasked with "bringing the Yankees togethah," I'm so sure the Bombahs will return to their Munson 70s roots. Not.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, reading that piece, it certainly doesn't sound like Damon's found much love from Randy Johnson so fah. Heh.

 

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Doug:
You know, I felt a momentary empathy for Damon's situation when I read Johnson's "He went two-for-fifteen against me last year" comment.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, well, it could be worse. At least Damon isn't Johnson's illegitimate daughter or anything.

 

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Doug:
Christ, there's mean and then there's meeeean.

 

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Bill:
Hey, I want to back up for a second, and go back to that Damon article … Did I really read an A-Rod quote saying, "My whole life is about being crushed"?

 

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Doug:
Unfuckingbelievable, right? I mean there's people getting balls blown off by IEDs, there's women getting sentenced to hanging for having the temerity to fight off 3 guys trying to gang rape her, and, yet, here's A-Rod, one of the highest paid athletes in the world, and his miserable, being crushed by the media life?

 

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Bill:
You know, just when I start to think I'm being too hahd on that shit head, I read something like that.

 

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Doug:
I'm so glad my A-Rod hate-O-meter goes to 11.

 

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It has a little extra flavor because of the frying

Mike:
So how the fuck is it that some asshat has taken the time to create a life-sized sculpture of Britney Spears giving birth on a bearskin rug, but we don't have a single life-sized sculpture of Big Papi or Manny or Schill or any of "The 25"?

 

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Bill:
What's up with that pose anyway? I didn't know you were supposed to give birth doggy style?

 

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Mike:
Yeah, well, you're not supposed to deep fry a twinkie or leave your Christmas lights up year 'round, but there's no fucking reasoning with a redneck.

 

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Bill:
So Foulke finally throws in a spring training game and looks great. Like I said, this is why Francona is the manager and I'm not.

 

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Mike:
Everything is falling into place. Choi's on board just in case Youks needs to move to third if Lowell can't cut it.

 

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Bill:
And Beckett's looking tough in more ways than one.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, what is it about guys jawing at each other while, behind them their respective teammates begin that slow but menacing group walk up the dugout steps that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy?

 

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Bill:
We are a violent people. But, hey, at least we don't try to chop your head off for swapping religions.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, that Abdul Rahman dude just wanted to bat for Jesus instead of Mohammed, it's not like he became a Yankees fan or anything.

 

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Bill:
I know, let's prioritize and shit for fuck's sake people.

 

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What's in a name?

Doug:
OK, so let me get this straight. The guy who locks a 14-year old girl in his bedroom of his parent house for 10 years is named Thomas John Hose?

 

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Bill:
What the fuck were his parents thinking? You think he's got a brother named Peter Johnson Hose?

 

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Doug:
Well his parents are obviously fucked up. How do they not know there's a 14 year old girl locked in their house, not for an hour, not for a day, but for 10 fucking yeahs?!?!

 

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Bill:
Meanwhile, I know it's not politically correct to stereotype and/or judge by appearances, but how the fuck is it that every time they catch one of these pervs they always look exactly like a guy who'd lock a 14-year old girl in a room for 10 years?

 

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Doug:
Speaking of judging by appearances, Francona officially anoints Foulke as the closah.

 

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Bill:
Yet anothah reason why I'd nevah cut it as a major league skippah. How the frig do you put that much faith in a guy who not only is coming off knee surgery to, fingahs crossed, fix his horrible '05 season but who also has yet to pitch in a game this spring?

 

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Doug:
Francona says the closah job is not Foulke's to lose but Foulke's to excel.

 

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Bill:
Tito's got nads of steel. He knows Foulke's struggles are as much mental as physical, so he does everything he can to boost the guy's self-esteem. No wondah the playahs are so loyal to him.

 

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Doug:
I just hope Francona is right. I really don't relish the idea of la-dee-dah'ing through April and May with the "it's early yet" mantra. not when Toronto is retooled and ready and the Yankees are, well, the fucking Yankees. We're going to need to every single win and then some.

 

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Bill:
No kidding. With a retooled and ready Toronto and with the Yankees being, well, the fucking Yankees, we're going to need to every single win and then some.

 

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At one with it all

Sometimes you have to get all deep and introspective …

Mike:
Holy shit, is it possible, Johnny Damon has almost, kinda, sorta, got the message and is starting to speak without crying about his mistreatment or how stupid the Red Sox are for not keeping the Idiots together forever?

 

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Doug:
You know what, guy, I think there's something wrong with me … I mean seeing Damon leading off for the Yankees, seeing him hugging Manny, I was totally fine with it. No angah. No animosity. No "why is this happening to us?!?!" What the fuck?

 

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Mike:
Dude, you are so going to be OK. This is life as a Red Sox fan aftah winning the World Series. We no longah are compelled to act retahded and go totally ape shit over every little thing.

 

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Doug:
So all the media pudnuts' prophecies were right: I've lost my passion, lost my identity as a Red Sox fan and shit?

 

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Mike:
Not at all. I mean if you'd lost all that you wouldn't even be here right now wondahring about this.

 

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Doug:
Well, how come I didn't feel this last befoah like last last season?

 

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Mike:
Last season we were all too high, still all caught up in the euphoria of '04 to know our ass from our elbows. Now we've passed onto a higher plane of fan existence. Just flow with it, guy.

 

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Doug:
Feels freaky. I mean what's next, am I going to start sitting down to take a piss?

 

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Mike:
Well, if you do, don't blame the Red Sox … Look, it's like this. Remembah back in middle school befoah you evah made out with someone? I don't know about you, but I was totally worried about it, like I wouldn't know how to do right or whatevah. So I'd do crazy shit like practice kissing in front of a mirror, or kissing my fist, and everyday I'd be like, "Oh, Christ, what if it nevah happens? What if I'm cursed and will go through my whole life nevah knowing what it feels like?" Totally obsessing and what not.

 

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Mike:
And then, heaven forbid, I was, you know, evah actually around a girl because then I'd totally whig out and staht saying wicked stupid stuff …

 

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Doug:
Or you'd pop a bonah at the most inopportune time and have to contort yourself in a lame effaht to hid it?

 

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Mike:
Exactly! Then remembah when it finally happened, your first serious make out session?

 

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Doug:
Cathy Rouleaux in the basement of St. Leo's!

 

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Mike:
Er, OK, nice details and all, but now remembah how you felt aftahwahds. I mean you didn't want to stop making out with chicks didya?

 

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Doug:
Fuck no. Only made me want moah of that action.

 

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Mike:
Right, but you also probably felt a whole lot coolah and chahming the ladies all of a sudden has new meaning. It's no longah a question of "How?" or "Will I?" but rathah, "Oh, yeah, it's on and I'm just going to get bettah and bettah at it." No feah. No worry. No acting retahded.

 

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Doug:
At one with the long bus ride bonah?

 

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Mike:
Absolutely. And that's where we're at now, metaphorically.

 

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Everyone's a VIP to someone

Susan:
I know there's no crying in baseball, but when I read these stories about the crestfallen Arroyo packing his bags, I just want to bawl my eyes out.

 

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Mike:
I now realize the Bronson's got saturn-sized nuts metaphor doesn't just apply to his on-the-mound courage …

 

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Susan:
For reals. Here's Bronson with every reason in the world to lash out at the Red Sox management, but, no he's got way too much class for that.

 

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Mike:
Arroyo's demeanah is the antithesis of that asshat Johnny Damon's.

 

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Susan:
Johnny Damon speaking out on the Arroyo trade is so fucking vile I can't even put words to it.

 

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Mike:
Getting careah advice from Johnny Damon is like getting how to get along with your parents advice from the fucking Menendez Brothers.

 

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Susan:
While I confess to hoping Damon's ahm falls off with his first girlie throw in the Bronx, I hope Bronson, my crush of all crushes, goes on to win the NL Cy Young.

 

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Mike:
I just hope the good people of Cincinnati appreciate what a cool guy they are getting in Arroyo.

 

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Susan:
And if the Cincy pink hat brigade doesn't give him the fan love he so richly deserves, well, watch your back bitches, because a cah load of Meffid chicks will roll up one day and beat your asses so bad that aftahwahds you'll be wishing you looked as good as Schottzie.

 

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Silly for Wily

Steve:
Are you believing this? Wily Mo Pena?

 

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Mike:
I love the way Theo describes Wily-Mo-P, says the kid's got "silly powah."

 

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Steve:
Yeah, and Epstein also describes him as a "physical freak." He's not only ginormous but fast, as in double digits in steals fast.

 

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Mike:
And the biggest knock against Wily Mo (whose name I just love to say by the way) is a lack of plate discipline and an inability to lay off the breaking stuff — But check it out: Pena's going to watching and listening to his fellow Dominicans Manny and Papi day in and day out. Something tells me he's going to acquire some friggin mad skillzy from those two.

 

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Steve:
Christ, I'm happier than the big girl with the funky name on Idol when they told her she could take off her shoes to sing.

 

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Mike:
Theo is da Man. But don't take my word for it, check out what our honorable opposition is saying.

 

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Steve:
Can't help but feel badly for Arroyo though, taking that hometown discount and all.

 

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Mike:
Well, look at it this way. The Pirates had given up on Arroyo and tossed him into the curbside DFA recycle bin. Who knows, if Theo hadn't taken the chance, Arroyo's MLB career could have ended right then and there. Instead, Arroyo nows gets to take his nuts the size of Saturn into Cincy as their numbah two stahtah. That's not so bad.

 

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Steve:
True. And the gangly guitar strumming moptop with the high leg kick will always hold a special place in our hearts as one of "The 25."

 

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Mike:
Abso-fucking-lutely. Man, I so can't wait for the season to staht.

 

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Make way for Papi

Doug:
If I told you once, I've told you a thousand times: Dude, plan the fuck ahead!

 

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Bill:
Heh. Hey,1996 called and they want their sluggah back.

 

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Doug:
Juan Gone as a Red Sock. I love it. Classic Theo move. Low risk. High reward.

 

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Bill:
Meanwhile, the current version of the most dangerous hittah in baseball returns to camp today. Make way for Papi.

 

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Doug:
Glad to have him back, of course, though tough luck for Ortiz and his fellow Dominicans.

 

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Bill:
As the sushi eatahs are about to discovah, nobody beats the Cubans in beisbol.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, I hear the Cubans are extra-motivated … Fidel told them that if they win they get an extra ration of beans and sugah for a whole month!

 

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Bill:
But, heh, you know, it's easy to laugh but as poor as they are at least every Cuban has health care.

 

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Doug:
Absolutely. Freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, freedom of the press blah blah over fucking rated blah … What really counts in life is being able to see a doctah for free and shit.

 

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Hey, Murph

Bill:
There goes Boomah right on schedule.

 

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Mike:
Absolutely. As a fan you can throw a personal shit storm every time Wells runs off at the mouth, or you can think, meh, comes with the territory.

 

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Bill:
I sorta enjoy the it whenever Wells starts the trash talk.

 

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Mike:
So don't I. It's like Francona says, Wells mouth may give you a headache, but the guy's got a pretty good haht.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, in the end, I think the Red Sox know Wells will do whatevah they ask, despite the de rigueur bitch fest Wells will spew out along the way.

 

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Mike:
True. And they learned from getting burned last year …

 

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Bill:
Yeah, every time Well was rushed into the rotation, he didn't just get taken to the cleanahs, he got fucking mahtinized too.

 

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Mike:
Christ, I'm excited to see Beckett go for reals.

 

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Bill:
Are you kidding me? His April 5th staht is for Sox fans what tonight's premier of the new Doctah Who is for gay sci-fi fans.

 

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Mike:
Dude, don't fuck with the Doctah. Evah see the bitches he time warps with?

 

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Bill:
Yeah, yeah, whatevah but meanwhile, Happy St Patty's Day, boyo!

 

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Mike:
In the words of Murph, "Let's get fucking wasted!"

 

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Being Tim Wakefield

Doug:
Now this Yard Work blog is some funny shit: "Go on and suck on the dry bitterness that comes with your childish excuses! Please, Mr. Jeter & Mr. Utley, continue to wear with shame those opportunistic boots that look so good upon your feet of clay!" Love it.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, so don't I. Check out this bit written in the voice of Koby Clemens, "I’d make more money beating up 5-year-olds at the playground than I would trying to get a stupid degree. Plus my dad would have to foot the bill for kids to do my homework and take my tests, pay for my Hummer (gas ain’t cheap, y’know! stupid terrorists!), and let’s not even talk about beer costs."

 

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Doug:
Brilliant. Wish I could say the same about the Red Sox spring training thus fah. Anothah day, anothah loss.

 

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Bill:
Ah, Christ, tell me you're not going into panic mode while there's still ice on the Winnipesaukee?

 

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Doug:
Guy, they're 5 and 10 with an anemic offense.

 

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Bill:
Firstly that's an offense without the Cap'n and Papi. Secondly, it's called spring training. Don't make me come ovah there and slap you upside the head 'n shit.

 

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Doug:
OK wiseass, two fecking words for ya: Mike Low-Hole.

 

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Bill:
Sure, Lowell's a concern, but not because of what he's doing or not doing in the Grapefruit, but because of his skeevey 05 season. But we won't know crap 'til it all stahts for real.

 

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Doug:
So you want me to go all even keel like Wake, kickin' back doin' crossahs?

 

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Bill:
Wouldn't kill ya would it? How'd you think Wakefield's managed to be 'round so long he's been a teammate to 20 pahcent of the guys evah to wear a Sox uni? The guy's a legend in his own time.

 

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It's just Ri-Man being Ri-Man

Susan/Circle:
Jesus Mohammed here's more Fenway blasphemy: Dave Mathews? Dave Fucking Mathews?! What's next, Bo Bice at Fenway? Jeez, does anyone on Yawkey Way have a clue?

 

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Mike:
How is it that Dave Mathews sells gazillions of albums and year in and year out has the highest grossing tour yet I don't know a single person who likes him?

 

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Susan/Circle:
I tell you what, Dave Souless Mathews is the fucking A-Rod of the music world. An overrated intahlopah.

 

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Mike:
Speaking of wannabee rockahs, what in hell is wrong with Bronson Arroyo this spring?

 

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Susan/Circle:
Seriously. He's gone from being the kid with nuts the size of Saturn to having nuts the size of Enceladus, except with less sign of life.

 

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Mike:
Ouch. Maybe Bronson's aging prematurely or something.

 

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Susan/Circle:
You know, it's tough enough to get old, you've the dementia, the incontinence … So do we really need to add a freaky helpah robot to the mix?

 

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Mike:
Why do I get the feeling Manny Ramirez and that robot could become like the best of friends? "You Ri-Man. Me Manny-Man. Let's go to the mall!"

 

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Deep in the hole

Doug:
All I can say aftah watching Episode 1 of Season 6 of The Sopranos is thank Christ I'm not a fucking wiseguy.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, your friends will desert you but family is always there for you, particularly when they're pumping you full of lead and then feeding you to the fish.

 

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Doug:
Speaking of fish, what the hell is up with Tony and Carm's nascent obsession with Japanese seafood? We go from episodes stuffed with baked ziti to all sushi-suki all the time?

 

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Bill:
I'm of the firm belief that seafood should only exist in one of 3 forms: battahed and fried, steamed and dipped in buttah, or simmahed in a chowdah.

 

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Doug:
I feel similarly about shortstops. They should be deep rangahs, fleet of foot, and sublime flashahs of leathah.

 

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Bill:
While I'm in full agreement, the early reports on Gonzo are all go-go, your segue from Sopranos back to baseball was as graceful as one of Manny's head first slides.

 

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Doug:
Dude, it's the fucking internets. You want smooth transitions, go join the Oprah book club or something.

 

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Bada Bing(less)

Where's my effin' ziti? …

Hart Brachen (strip's author):
Hart here to say I've got nothing new this morning. Here's the deal: I missed Sopranos last night and now I'm caught in some nether world where it feels like I'm completely out of synch with everyone else.

 

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Hart Brachen:
And, somehow, this out-of-synchness, has caused the creative part of my brain to lock up.

 

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Hart Brachen:
But you may ask, "What does a fictional cable-only TV drama about La Cosa Nostra have to do with baseball? Why wouldn't you still be able to spin something up about Papelbon or have the characters respond to the newest word to enter the Soxicon, 'Cocomo'?"

 

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Hart Brachen:
Hell if I know. Just the way things are wired I guess. I've got Episode 66 on the DVR, though, so I'll watch it tonight and be back to normal tomorrow.

 

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Hart Brachen:
As always thanks for your readership and patience in dealing with these false starts. Now pass the gabagool …

 

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Just a little hunchback at the office

Steve:
So when Malcolm Gladwell says, "To root for the Yankees or the Red Sox is the functional equivalent of rooting for Microsoft or General Electric," which one are we?

 

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Mike:
Well, I like the to think of it more as the Red Sox are Apple and the Yankees are Microsoft, you know how the MS way mirrors the Yankees — no innovation, bloatware, built on an ageing, outdated, legacy operating system …

 

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Steve:
Yeah, and A-Rod coming up in a clutch situation is just like getting "the blue screen of death."

 

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Mike:
That and he's like the little, annoying talking paper clip in Word. "It looks like you're writing a letter? Do you want me to help? I'm a 5-tool player. I suggest you try my 'dropping the shoulder move' or my 'karate chop.'"

 

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Steve:
But, hey, Gladwell's "blink" theory in the exchange with Simmons as applied to being a GM of sports franchise certainly bolsters the argument of all the armchair GM wannabees who are convinced they could do a better job.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, well, there's something to be said for Gladwell's assertion, but, I tell ya, when he asks rhetorical questions like "do you think that Billy Beane, for a moment, wouldn't trade his situation with Theo Epstein or Cashman?" it casts a shadow of doubt ovah everything he says … I mean, memo to Mr. Big Hair, were you grabbing your tipping point when Beane was offahed the job as Red Sox GM and turned it down?

 

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Steve:
That's always been the main criticism of Blink, right? That he's all about cherry picking anecdotal evidence that supports his claim but is light on factual data and even lighter at offering instances where gut instinct is flat out wrong?

 

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Mike:
So much depends on the circumstances. I mean if I go to my doctah and tell him I've been having tightness in my chest, the last thing I want to hear is, "Well, I've got a 'hunch' that you've just got a case of acid reflux, maybe you had a bad fish taco or something … Take a couple Zantecs and you'll be fine" and then, you know, two days latah I drop dead from a frickin haht attack.

 

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One fan's treasure is another fan's trash

Bill:
Sorry, I'm just not feeling it …

 

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Mike:
Dude, you're telling me that Stern's inside the pahkah and Tek's awesometastic slammy jammy didn't have you showing any love to the WBC?

 

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Bill:
To me it's all like seeing the "Eiffel Tower" in Vegas or "visiting" Japan while at Epcot. No mattah how much it seems like the real deal, at the end of the day it's just an exhibit.

 

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Mike:
But, Bill, these are real majah leaugahs playing real baseball.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, and those are real cherry blossoms and real sushi at Epcot, but you're still in Orlando and not Okinawa no mattah how hahd you try to believe otherwise.

 

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Mike:
OK, dude. Be that way, but you're missing some good baseball.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, well, somehow I think I'll manage just fine until Opening Day with the Red Sox who, like myself, are taking a pass on the "It's a small world" Disneyesque side show.

 

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La Isla Bonita

Steve:
Seeing the gargantuan presence that is David Ortiz wearing the Dominican uniform while hammering homers gave me a sense of what it must be like to be a fan a team the Red Sox are facing when Big Papi strides to the plate. And that feeling is fear. Absolute total fear.

 

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Doug:
Absolutely. When he's on your team, he's the lovable, gentle giant, clutch mastah, and embodiment of all that is Red Sox goodness. Looking at Ortiz from the othah side and he's all like some murderous club wielding Orc from Mordor.

 

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Steve:
I still can't believe the Twins just released Ortiz and any team could have claimed him but it was our own uber-savvy, young Theo Epstein who swept him up and changed the course of baseball history forever.

 

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Doug:
You know, legend has it that it was Petey who alerted Epstein to Papi and that's why the Red Sox nabbed him.

 

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Steve:
I so heart the Dominican Republic.

 

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Doug:
Forget Cabo, forget Cancun, and St. Kitts, and Jamaica and the rest — from now on, New Englandahs looking for a wintah getaway or honeymoon or whatevah should forevahmore consider only one place: The island nation of the Dominican Republic to whom we owe so, so mucho.

 

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Turning up and turning down and turning in and turning 'round

Doug:
So I'm actually willing to stand up and cheer him, throw confetti, ululate, I mean what the ever the fuck it takes to just make Johnny Damon stop talking about it.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, it's almost enough to make me feel a smidgen of sympathy for Yankees fans. I mean can you imagine if the situation was reversed and a formah Yankee was with the Red Sox but all he did 24/7 during spring camp was talk about his previous club?

 

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Doug:
It's more and more like a great meal being spoiled by a funny after-taste.

 

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Bill:
So if it's not bad enough that every four years we get chided as Americans for not taking enough interest in soccer, now we've got Massarotti bitching at us for not wetting our pants over the so-called World Baseball Classic.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, yeah, fans are too "skeptical" &8230; Hmmm, wonder why? You don't think this has anything to do with the fact that, you know, the whole thing is meaningless?

 

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Bill:
But, fuck, the Japanese are into it, so it must be legit, because, you know, the Japanese are such arbiters of good taste, what with all the seaweed as a food group and the vending machines dispensing school girl's used panties …

 

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Doug:
Whoa, I'm with you on the seaweed, but I must confess, if some cunning capitalist opened a bura-sera shop on Newbury Street, Christ, I'd be one of their best customahs.

 

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Bill:
You sick fuck.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, I'd be all konichiwah'ing my ass in there saying, "I'm feeling dirty in a preppy sort of way … You got anything from a 2nd or 3rd year from an Andovah coed, maybe something sweaty from field hockey practice or something, shopkeepah-san?" Heh.

 

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Bill:
Dougie, Dougie, Dougie …

 

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Doug:
Hey, nobody is getting hurt. It's just the free mahket at work. Supply and demand and all that.

 

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Mending Wall

Bill:
Ah, will the last person to leave Vermont please turn off the lights?

 

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Mike:
Can't say I'm surprised to hear of an exodus of young people from the Green Mountain State. I mean what kind of career can you have there?

 

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Bill:
Well, there's your cow milkahs, your ski lift operatahs, or you know, you could always hang out in Burlington and get a job at an alternative bookstore selling 100% hemp "Che" t-shirts to hairy legged vegan chicks.

 

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Mike:
Hey, how many Vermonters does it take to change a light bulb? … Three. One to change the bulb and two to sit around discussing how they liked the old one better.

 

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Bill:
Heh. All kidding aside, Vermont is a great state and Vermonters are good folk. The true old school New England spirit is still alive and well up there.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, something tells me guys like David Wells wouldn't be asking for trades because of "the worst evah seen" lack of privacy if our fellow Massholes had a bit more Vermonter in them.

 

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Bill:
Absolutely. Remembah Red Sox fans what the great New Englandah Robert Frost admonished: Good fences make good neighbahs.

 

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Mike:
Give the playahs some space and privacy. Keep the wall between us as we go.

 

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Jellyleg (Our new fave word)

Doug:
Make it a Tofu Pup with the works, Artie.

 

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Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Ah, yes the meatless lenten Fridays for the pious … surprised you're not going with a hip fish taco like your trendy metrosexual buddies. Heh.

 

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Doug:
I love fish. I love tacos. But that two combined? Er, not so much. I mean it's just wrong in so many ways.

 

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Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
What are you saying, that it's like painting the inside of a ballpark blue?

 

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Doug:
Exactly. Tacos should be filled with meat, and ballparks should be painted green and seem in curiously sharp focus.

 

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Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Speaking of focus, did you get a load of Crisp's spring training debut?

 

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Doug:
Singled in the first, doubled in the third and hit an RBI triple in the fifth.

 

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Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
And how about the young studs on the mound. Eye witness fan reports say Delcarmen appeared to throw two of those 12-6 curveballs that really broke and badly fooled the hitters, Craig Hansen gave a couple of Twins The Jellyleg with his fat breaking ball.

 

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Doug:
No shit. I've got The Jellyleg just thinking about this coming season.

 

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Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Yeah, lots of questions but so much promise. Can't wait.

 

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So happy together

Tara:
Not only is Manny back, but he's looking goo-ooo-ood.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, love the lean cut, love the longah, highlighted dreads, love the beard …

 

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Tara:
And it was mighty nice of the Globe's Cafardo to wait until the second graf of his story before turning on horror the movie trailer voice over anguish: "How long will it last?!?!!" Whoooo cue eerie tubular bells sounds.

 

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Bill:
No kidding. And I'm not sure why Manny's "I'm here. I'm here." response to the "are you happy?" question has to be spun negatively.

 

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Tara:
For reals. I took it totally as a "hey, if I wasn't happy I wouldn't be here" response while the media, of course, goes with the "Well, he didn't explicitly say he was happy, so let's assume the worst" approach.

 

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Bill:
And you know what? Let's suppose Manny isn't happy. Does that really mattah? I mean I couldn't care less how much hatred he hahbahs as long as he continues to send moon shoots ovah the monstah.

 

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Tara:
We are a culture obsessed with "being happy all the time," but the dirty little secret is it just doesn't work that way.

 

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Bill:
Absolutely. All your self-help books, all your Dr. Phil episodes, all your Depak Chopra snake oil ain't going to change the simple fact that "happy" is the outliah and the default homeostasis of life is "meh, so so."

 

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Tara:
Like so much in nature, our emotions follow a normal distribution. One standard deviation from the mean, or 68% of the time, is "meh, I'm not happy and I'm not sad, I'm just living."

 

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Bill:
Sure. And then you've got feeling blue and feeling fine at 13.6% each at two standahd deviations from the mean, and, finally, at three deviations away you've got the extremes of "Holy fuck I can't take anothah day of this shit I'm going to off myself" and total blissed out nirvana one with the universe ecstasy. That's life. Deal with it.

 

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Tara:
And I, personally, get to that three deviation positive small end of the curve whenever I see the Lost's Mr. Eko on screen shirtless and carrying a big, righteous, stick of whoop ass.

 

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Bill:
Heh, wouldn't it be cool if Manny, instead of being goofy, went with the Mr. Eko approach when dealing with the press?

 

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Bill:
[Imitating Eko's voice] "During the offseason, I was dragged out of my penthouse at night by two men. And I killed these men, smashing their skulls with a stone. I felt their blood on my arms …"

 

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Tara:
Yeah, and the media are all crapping their pants like the balloon man, "W-W-Why are you telling us this, Manny?"

 

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Bill:
[Imitating Eko's voice] "I must tell someone. I seek redemption." Then he whips out a mofo big ass blade out of his uni pants, cuts his beard off, and hands it to Shaughnessy, then turns and walks away.

 

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Tara:
Hell yeah, that's what I'm talking about. Righteous.

 

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Love thy enemy

As some of you have suspected, The Soxaholix harbor a secret fetish and fascination with the Yankees, and, when nobody is looking, they peek in adoringly on the Yankees spring training complex …

Steve:
"Hey, buddy, if you don't step out of my path I'm going to slap that camera out of your hands. Don't make me do it. I'll fuck you up bad with my dropping the shoulder move."

 

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Mike:
"Oh, Alex, you so pretty and funny I just have to touch myself!"

 

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Steve:
"I'll show these motherfuckers how to have some fun. Oh, and did I mention I love it here? I do. I really do. Seriously. It's too bad the Red Sox didn't want me back, oh, wait, I'm happy here."

 

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Mike:
"You know, Wang, China is a big country, inhabited by many Chinese."

 

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Steve:
Now, I ain't sayin' he a gold digger …

 

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Mike:
"Now don't get all upset, Randy, we're just saying that, you know, you make a fuck load of money, so it's only fair that we expect you to, you know, win games and shit."

 

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Steve:
"This is no fun at all. Where's that new guy Damon? Tell him to get over here and give me a hug."

 

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Mike:
"Now I'm sorry, son. When you said you were an 'idiot' I thought it was a metaphor, I didn't know you meant it literally. But that's OK young man, you don't have to be smart to be a Yankee, I mean look at Giambi. Thatta boy, now go have some fun."

 

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Steve:
"What did you say? Curt Schilling? You're fired. Security, remove this man. And the next sonavabitch who dares mention that bastard's name will not only be fired but I'll call my buddies in the GOP and have all your phones tapped. I'll not stand for this."

 

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