Ménière you bastard

Hart Brachen, site author in absentia:
Hart here riding life's trolley …

So as unbelievable as it was to see the Red Sox win not one but two World Series in the past 4 years, the medical-related events the past month in my own life are equally astonishing. Click on the "Author's Notes" link below for more detail.

 

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Scar tissue

Mike:
So because of my blog I get the occasional email from publishers announcing new Red Sox books and asking it I'll mention the book and if I want a signed copy and, sometimes even, asking if I'd like to do an interview with the book's author.

 

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Al:
Sweet.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, it's usually all well and good and a nice perk, but just the othah day I got one that really disturbed me.

 

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Doug:
What? Canseco's latest, Vindicated. Hah.

 

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Mike:
That would be funny, at least, but, no there's nothing funny about this book's theme — The Greatest Game: The Yankees, the Red Sox, and the Playoff of '78.

 

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Al:
Holy fuck.

 

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Doug:
Seriously.

 

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Al:
Greatest game? Greatest game? Well, not in these pahts.

 

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Doug:
That's like asking Natalie Holloway's mom to review a book called Aruba '05: The Greatest Spring Break Evah.

 

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Now back to the games that don't count

Lisa the Temp:
OK, I heard about the Tokyo Stadium kegs, peeps.

 

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Lisa the Temp:
And Lisa the Temp is always grateful when you include her in your most imaginative thoughts.

 

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Lisa the Temp:
But would Lisa "strap on" so to speak?

 

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Lisa the Temp:
Well, you know, a temp's duty is to fulfill unmet needs …

 

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Lisa the Temp:
Beeru?

 

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That visor looks good on you

Marty:
Well, Bill, it's a real shame the BoSux couldn't sweep the A's in Japan …

 

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Marty:
Because I was really looking forward to seeing Red Sux Nation all puffed up like a bunch of roosters crowing and talking shit on the flimsy pretense of a 2 game lead.

 

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Marty:
That would have made your inevitable downfall and your being 6 games back of the greatest sports franchise of all time come the end of April all the sweeter.

 

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Bill:
Geez, Mahty, it's good to see that you've been so whipped by Red Sox dominance this Century, that you've now succumbed to these preemptive attacks.

 

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Bill:
Scared much, Mahts?

 

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Marty:
Oh, right, Callaghan, I forgot how prescient you are. Like how just a month ago you were writing Hillary Clinton's epitaph. Now not so much on Obama being the presumptive nominee, eh, Bill?

 

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Bill:
Hey, Mahts, come undah snipah fiah in Bosnia lately. Hahahaha.

 

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Marty:
She misspoke. No biggie.

 

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Bill:
Ah, yes, of course we provincial New Englandahs refer to the that as "lying," but you know, pool or the pond, right, Mahty?

 

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Bill:
So when you tell that story about how you were accosted by an angry mob of Red Sox fans because you had the so-called temerity to wear a Yankees cap in the streets of Boston, was that kinda sorta like Hillary's snipah fiah?

 

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Bill:
Did you "misspeak," Mahts? Now's the chance to come clean.

 

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Marty:
Bullshit, Callaghan. What happened to me that day is fact. I can send you a copy of the police report.

 

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Bill:
OK, Mahts, if that's the way you want to play it. But remembah, we live in the age of the interwebs …

 

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Bill:
It's only a mattah of time before someone posts some video on YouTube. And rathah than it being you in a Yankees cap being chased by a blood thirsty mob, I suspect it's more likely to be video of you getting sea sick in the Swan boats while wearing a Tommy Bahama visah.

 

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Early rising

Bill:
I'm so happy to see opposing managah's still insist on walking Papi to get to Manny.

 

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Doug:
Intentional to Papi?
Manager swore great conquest
The sushi is spoiled.

 

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Not today, maybe tomorrow.

Your omniscient author in absentia:
I need to take today off. While my wife's recovery continutes, she is still in the hospital with no definite release date scheduled.

In the meantime, the family members who've been around that past couple weeks to help out, have had to return to their jobs, lives, etc., so I'm having to carry to full load.

On the plus side, I'll be able to watch both the games in Japan, as I'm on leave from work until my wife is able to fend for herself again.

 

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International Dateline

Bill:
Of course it's the yoga-practicing, zen-daddy Manny Ramirez who steps off the 18 hour trans-Pacific flight looking fresh as a cherry blossom.

 

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Mike:
Yeah, did you check out Manny bowing to the Japanese media contingent?

 

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Bill:
That supplants the image of Manny running onto the field waving a tiny flag after getting his US Citizenship on the list of my fave Manny Momments.

 

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Mike:
Not everyone looked as happy as Manny did at Haneda international though.

 

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Bill:
Seriously, Youkilis looks like he wants to kill a puppy.

 

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Mike:
I know Bruce ovah at BSMW pooh-poohs the tiredness factah on a trip to Japan, saying business people do it all the time, but it's gotta take some toll on the mind and body.

 

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Bill:
Are you kidding me? I'm still frigged up trying to get used to the switch to Daylight Savings a week before last.

 

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Mike:
Of course, you're not exactly in the MLB playah demographic.

 

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Bill:
Too true. Not only was I born with an inability to hit a curve ball …

 

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Bill:
I was also born with bowels requiring a regularity only a fascist train conductor in Mussolini's Italy could admiah.

 

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Time, the continuous thread of revelation.

Doug:
So let me get this straight. The Girls Gone Wild guy is out on parole aftah a stint in prison on child porn chahges, among othahs, actually thinks it's a good idea to get back in the news with archival GGW footage of a 17 year old Ashley Dupre?

 

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Al:
And they say jocks are dumb.

 

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Mike:
Well, hold your absolution. Right now Jose Canseco has half-convinced himself that he supplied steroids to Eliot Spitzer in the 90s.

 

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Doug:
Speaking of mentally challenged athletes, Johnny Damon sure has been quiet lately, eh?

 

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Al:
Well, he did say the othah day that he thinks he's "a pretty tough person to replace."

 

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Doug:
Ah, memo to Johnny: Time did a whole lot of so-called telling last Octobah methinks.

 

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Mike:
Yep, the future at centerfield starts with a "J" and ends with a "Y" but therein the similarity ends.

 

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The Waiting Room

Your omniscient author in absentia:
(UPDATED 11:30am 3/16 via comment to this post)
(UPDATED 3/17  via comment to this post)
(UPDATED 3/18  via comment to this post)
(UPDATED 3/19  via comment to this post)

Today's the big surgery today for my wife, so the Soxaholix site will be on standby until things normalize a bit.

Rally caps are on.

 

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As Manny Likes It

Steve:
So here's what I want to know — when Billy Crystal had his one day love-in with the Yankees, did he have the opportunity to learn A-Rod's secret weapon, the infamous "dropping the shoulder move"?

 

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Mike:
I dunno, with just one day, they probably only had time to go ovah the rudiments of ball slapping and lip bluing.

 

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Steve:
So it seems more and more that there is much, much more to Manny Ramirez than any of us realize.

 

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Mike:
Seriously, who knew that Manny Being Manny means being a voracious readah, a healthy eatah, and a practitionah of yoga?

 

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Steve:
Manny is the embodiment of that Shakespeare line:

"The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool."

 

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Fashion sense

Mike:
I love this notion of Bill James and his stats posse hanging out on Yawkey Way and just "ideating."

 

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Doug:
I wish I had that sort of brain.

 

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Al:
Seriously, while James is contemplating his metaphorical "bucket of water" I'm over heah contemplating the phenomenon of cahgo shorts.

 

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Al:
I mean when things first went all cahgo, all the time, I figured it was just a passing trend.

 

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Al:
But no. Summah aftah summah it's the same sartorial nightmare.

 

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Doug:
Hey, Al, tell us how you really feel why doncha?

 

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Al:
I mean at my age, the only cahgo I'm carrying is all internal — beer gut, clogged ahteries …

 

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Doug:
Enlahged prostate …

 

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Mike:
I dunno. I like the cahgos. They're perfect for Fenway — Media Guide in one pocket, scoring pencil in anothah pocket, bag of peanuts in anothah …

 

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Al:
Yeah, well, you're young, you can get away with wearing them.

 

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Al:
If I showed up at Fenway that way, I can hear it now …

"Hey, Murph, check out this fuckin' guy. He's going on a safahi or something."

 

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Al:
"Holy shit, guy, are you Stanley and Livingstone or what?"

"He must be a Tigahs fan because he's going to the jungle."

And much hillarity would ensue.

 

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Doug:
Good times, good times.

 

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Mike:
Gotta love Fenway.

 

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Al:
Greatest place on Earth.

 

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Big in Japan-be-tight

Marty:
Hey, Callaghan, I'm so glad your man Lucre Lucchino is so intent to spread the Red Sox brand in Japan that he's willing to sacrifice the month of April for it.

 

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Marty:
Those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it.

 

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Bill:
What in Christ are you rambling on about, Silvahman?

 

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Marty:
Ah, Opening Series in Japan?! Duh. C'mon, even the vaunted Yankees had a miserable April the year they did the Japanese stunt.

 

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Bill:
Wait, wait, wait, Mahts, wasn't that 2004?

 

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Bill:
Now I'm getting a little long in the tooth, so forgive me if my memory is faulty, but, as I recall it, the Yankees had a very successful regulah season in 2004.

 

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Bill:
Again, I'm not too sure of the details, but didn't the Yankees become, er, derailed, in the playoffs that year, Mahty.

 

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Marty:
I'm just saying Callaghan.

 

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Bill:
Saying what? That the Yankees were so tired from a couple games in March that they fucking folded like a Bedoin tent in Octobah?

 

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Bill:
Sayonara, Mahty. And give my regahds to Slappy McBluelips-san.

 

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Flow that Ki

Doug:
Now wait a second …

 

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Doug:
Josh Beckett is having problems with his back so they are considering not having him make the trip to Japan?

 

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Doug:
Ah, hello! Barefoot Shiatsu, anyone?

 

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Doug:
I mean, c'mon, do I have to do all thinking around heah?

 

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Doug:
Get dude to Japan stat and get some chicks walking on that back.

 

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Buffering

Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Hey, what's up Mr. Roy?

You likey the Doki Doki?

 

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Doug:
Haven't seen it yet, but I'm waiting on it as eagerly as I do a buffering download of a 7 minute German gangbang on youporn.com.

 

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Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Yeah, well, just think — While you're petering your life away with Achtung Baby, othah young men like Jonathan Papelbon are inking three quartah million deals.

 

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Doug:
Well you know me — I take each day a little easiah than the previous one.

 

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Doug:
I've stahted the long slow fade to retiahment and senility.

 

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Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
You were saying that 3 years ago.

 

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Doug:
I was joking then. Now it's really happening.

I didn't realize it at the time but those jokes were just a premonition of what was to come.

 

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Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
What is the past, though, if not an intense premonition of the inevitable?

 

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Doug:
Seriously. Like all those years of Red Sox frustration foreshadowed these times of Red Sox Über Alles.

 

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Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Natürlich.

 

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Doug:
!

 

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Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Hey, everyone's got broadband these days.

 

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Brief respite

Your omniscient author in absentia:
OK, that was a short return to normalcy. Got some bad news yesterday after the TEE (transesophageal echocardiogram). The bacteria have done more damage to my wife's heart than they'd thought, already seeing heart issues related to it. The docs are convening specialists etc to discuss next steps, probably surgery, valve replacement etc.

 

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Sign of good taste

Bill:
Well, as we learned in Moneyball, major leagues scouts tend to be overly obsessed with high schoolahs, but somehow, I don't think this is what Lewis meant.

 

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Doug:
Yeah, you know, ovah heah you've got the Coca-Cola Cornah, and ovah heah you've got the Jerkin' the Gherkin Cornah.

 

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Bill:
Can't say as I'll miss the giant Coke bottles any.

 

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Doug:
Nah. I've got nothing against corporate sponsorships in general, but the giant Coke bottles always seemed visually awkward in Fenway.

 

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Bill:
But not the new 12 foot Coke sign?

 

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Doug:
No, because nothing harkens back to the Fenway's 1912 origins and the 19th Century pastoral roots of the game of baseball quite like 1,059 light-emitting diodes.

 

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