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Doug:
OK, it totally dawned on me last night what the best thing about being a Red Sox fan in this golden era of 2 championships in 4 year is …
Doug:
Duh, you're right. The second best thing, then, is this — while the season will have its up and its downs, there is no reason, no reason whatsoevah to overly wallow in the downs.
Doug:
Case in point: This 11-19 on the road thing? Meaningless. Small sample size and all that. It'll even out.
Mike:
And what about Matsuzaka's shoulder and impending MRI that you were sobbing about all aftahnoon yestahday?
Doug:
I'm ovah that, too. Look it's not like he has SARS or West Nile. Dude, just has a case of fatigue. And how do you cure fatigue? Rest. Simple as that.
Doug:
We'll just bring up some guys from the fahm to covah Matsuzaka for as long as needed.
Mike:
Seriously. What's the point in depth of you don't use it.
Doug:
That's what Jenna Jameson said.
Mike:
Hey, did you hear Jenna calls her vajayjay by it's own name?
Doug:
Really? What does she call it?
Mike:
Christ, this West Coast swing is becoming all swevens and nightmare.
Doug:
Are you there, Offense? It's me, Pusslegut.
Mike:
You know when they went through that offensive suckitude a few weeks back I thought, OK, glad they got that out of the way early.
Little did I know that was just the prologue for a much lahgah work of tragedy.
Doug:
Tragedy, indeed. Did you know these guys have more strikeouts than hits and walks combined, 45:43?
Doug:
And, Christ, the OPB on this trip is a dispiriting .252.
Al:
Yeah, I picked up a quart of Hood's last night and their was a picture of the Red Sox hittahs on the back. Have you seen these mofos? Because they've been disappeared.
Al:
Maybe they'll turn it around in Baltimore? I mean Oakland and Seattle will suck the piss out of anyone.
Doug:
Nah. When an offense is clicking, it shouldn't mattah where they play. A good offense should be able score runs in fucking Fallujah fercrissakes.
Doug:
This is one of those days where I wondah, "What's the friggin' point?"
Doug:
No, not the Sox. They'll be fine. I just mean life in general.
Doug:
With these late night West Coast games, I get a chance to see what the rest of the world is up to, and, well, I don't much like what I see.
Mike:
Seriously. Record oil prices, housing mahket crisis, natural disasters …
Doug:
It's worse than that, guy.
Doug:
I mean Jesus H. Christ, people, get a grip.
Bill:
Well, if the Sox are going to get swept, bettah that it happens on the road, and bettah it happens on Pacific time, and even bettah if it happens on a holiday weekend.
Doug:
Absolutely. Between the late games and being occupied with Memorial Day, it was easy to keep a distance and not get too pissy.
Doug:
Hey now don't get too loose, according to Dave Pinto if the Sox happen to "falloff from their current .808 home winning percentage [it] may mean trouble, as Tampa's home/road record looks sustainable."
Bill:
I dunno. Tampa and "sustainable" just doesn't seem very realistic to me despite what Pinto's chahts and numbahs may be telling him.
Doug:
Seriously, and not to sound like Hillary Clinton but there is a lot of time left and I just don't see a team like the Ray with no pennant race experience being much of a factah when the heat is on.
Bill:
Yeah, and you nevah know, somebody could assassinate Kazmir in June.
Doug:
Not that we're advocating such a horrible thing. You know, just speaking hypothetically and all.
Susan/Circle:
Welcome to the Big Leagues where stahtahs have to be ready to go on 4, especially late in the season.
Mike:
Meanwhile, despite a multitude of long balls from the Sox, Manny remains entrenched at 498.
Susan/Circle:
Are you kidding me? Pressure? Nerves? This is Manny Ramirez we are talking about not a mere mortal.
Mike:
Absolutely. I mean Manny is so friggin cool he can make a snowman out of rain.
Susan/Circle:
And Manny is so loose, he can gargle peanut buttah fercrissakes.
Mike:
He'll hit dingahs 499 and 500 when it damn well pleases him.
Mike:
Well, even though nobody is going to confuse the KC offense with Murderer's Row, I'm very content with Colon's first outing just the same.
Steve:
Sure. 6 hits, all singles, and a couple walks. He'll be fine in the #5 slot.
Mike:
But more importantly, he fills the much needed emotional need to have a fat man in the rotation.
Steve:
Yeah, there's something about seeing a big guy out there on the mound that reminds me what a fantastic game this is.
Mike:
And in every fat pitcher there is the evocation of Babe Ruth and this creates a very pleasant sense of history.
Mike:
Seriously, he's an inspiration to me. I'm going to kick my workouts up a notch.
Steve:
What, free weights, Cybex, running?
Doug:
How deep and awesome is the Red Sox fahm system?
Bill:
How do you think lil' Hanky Steinbrennah feels when he boots up his computah and reads that?
Bill:
How about this line from the Post: "The Yankees converted baseball's highest cathedral into the world's largest commode last night."
Doug:
Christ, we've been calling that place The Toilet for years. The Post is just seeing that now?
Bill:
The Spankees have now lost 4 straight and 6 of their last 7. And if I smile any widah, I'll risk permanent paralysis of my facial nerves.
Doug:
Are you kidding me? I'm a mothefucking pimp, and Schadenfreude is my bitch.
Mike:
Is it enough that Lestah comes back from the friggin big C to pitch at a major league level again?
Mike:
Is it enough that Lestah pitches in the game that clinches the 2nd World Series win in our lifetimes?
Mike:
No, no. That's not enough for this kid — He has to go out an toss a no-hittah just to demonstrate the size of his friggin nads.
Doug:
You know what else? Get this. If you include Annibal Sanchez, Sox prospects raised in the Sox system account for 3 of the last 5 no hittahs in the Majahs.
Mike:
Seriously. And it's nearly 5 if you recall Schill taking it into the 9th last year.
Doug:
Hmm, Lestah and Ellsbury … anybody still crying ovah the lack of a Santana trade?
Al:
All this joy and the motherfucking Yankees are in last place and 6½ back.
Doug:
I tell you, aftah wandering in the desert for 86 years, I thank you sweet Jesus for delivering the Promised Land.
Doug:
It's even better in person than I evah could have imagined.
Mike:
And thank you Theory of Evolution and natural selection for favoring the inherited traits of baseball genius that have reached their genetic fruition in one Theo Epstein.
Al:
Christ, I love this cocksure feeling of being a lifelong fan of the greatest baseball franchise on the planet.
Doug:
Are you kidding me? If I get anymore cocksure, my pubis is going to have to apply for statehood.
Mike:
Is it game time yet? Because I need me anothah fix of greatness in action.
Doug:
Yeah, and with Kansas City up, it's time to throttle down and get some momentum before heading to the West Coast latah in the week.
Mike:
You worried about Beckett at all? He's looking very 2006ish lately.
Doug:
You know, if this were 2002 or 2003, yeqh, I'd probably be wearing down my worry beads, but these days? Not a chance.
Doug:
Besides, even if Beckett has a dropoff from his phenomenal success last year, it'll be more than compensated this season's nascency toward acehood by Daisuke.
Doug:
That's Theo for you. He likes to take the Jenna Jameson approach to building a ballclub … You know, there's no such thing as being too deep.
Rider on Green Line:
The Soxaholix are taking today off to, you know, get prepped for a homestand, Interleague play, and what we expect will be a return to the default position of Red Sox win and the other guys lose. (And by "get prepped" we mean, of course, recover from a wicked hangover.)
Two guys walking, tall guy speaks:
And not just losses but losses where they give up
10 runs
7 runs
9 runs
7 runs
5 runs
6 runs
Two guys walking, tall guy speaks:
What the hell is up with this team?
Two guys walking, short guy speaks:
…
Two guys walking, tall guy speaks:
Dude, WTF? I'm pouring my heart out ovah heah and you've got is "…"
Two guys walking, no words exchanged:
Two guys walking, tall guy speaks:
I mean I just don't like what I'm seeing.
Two guys walking, short guy speaks:
Then stop looking and staht living.
Two guys walking, tall guy speaks:
!
Tara:
I didn't think I ever live to see the day.
Susan/Circle:
What that an African-American is poised to become the next President of the United States?
Tara:
No, that the Red Sox would fall out of first place because of a loss and a Tampa Bay win over the Yankees.
Susan/Circle:
Seriously what's next — Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria!
Susan/Circle:
Yeah, while Julian Tavarez's angry batshitedness was amusing, Beckett's seething is on a whole other level.
Tara:
They say his teammates don't even want to make eye contact with him when he's in one of his rages. Hell, I don't even want to make eye contact with him on the TV.
Susan/Circle:
Let's face it, if Josh Beckett couldn't throw a 98mph major league fastball, we'd more than likely be seeing him on an episode of Cops.
Tara:
Absolutely. He'd be another shirtless redneck streaked in blood and professing his innocence.
Susan/Circle:
What is up with the shirtless rednecks anyway? Is there like some redneck handbook that instructs one to remove shirt before transgressing into criminality?
Tara:
Yeah, I think that's in there along with instructions regarding the optimal placement of broken down cars in your front yard and deep frying Twinkies.
Bill:
Christ, I watched every game against the Twins yet somehow I'm shocked with the realization this morning that we only took 1 of 4 in the series.
Mike:
Yeah, all those late rallies only to come up short in the very end …
Bill:
And this team looks so good, looks like they should be taking 3 of 4 of every series and be 6 games or more ahead of the pack by now … yet here we are not only just a ½ game in front, and a ½ game in front of Tampa Bay no less.
Mike:
Patience, guy, patience.
Bill:
I won't miss the white knuckling every time Tavarez took the mound wondering if the "good" version or the "holy fuck shield your eyes" version would show up …
Bill:
But I will miss that giddy anticipation at the possibility that at any given moment Tavarez would go totally batshit on us.
Mike:
So if he ends up in Colorado, does he go batshit there evah? I mean how does Julian's arbitrary and explosive violence fit in with drinking the Coors' Jesus Juice?
Bill:
Well, it's not like the Bible is devoid of arbitrary violence, just ask Isaac.
Mike:
True. But still, it wouldn't be the same seeing Tavarez karate kick some deserving Philistine ass while in one of those aburd purple vests the Rockies wear.
Doug:
So if there's pink bats on Mother's Day to raise the issue of breast cancer awareness, how come there's no brown bats on Father's Day to remind people of the perils of prostate cancah?
Mike:
See, now that's why your relationships nevah last, Doug — instead of focusing on the breasts, you're always thinking about your asshole.
Al:
All I know is I'm glad we just have one more game at the Metrodome. If I had to look at that monstrosity much longah, I'd get cancah of the eyeball.
Tara:
Absolutely. Youks is not only the personification of the "Moneyball" philosophy but was one of the main college players featured in the book.
Tara:
It was Beane who annointed Youkilis the Greek God of Walks afterall. But he never was able to shell game the then young Theo into giving Youks up to Oakland.
Susan/Circle:
Funny how it turns out that Youkilis is so much more than just walks and OBP — He's got the long ball powah as well.
Tara:
What's not to love?
Susan/Circle:
He's thick in the face
But, oh, how he swings from the waist
That's Youkiliscious.
Doug:
I was having a friggin awesometastic day yesterday just sailing along on a sea of calm until I was sunk by the Red Sox version of Scylla and Charybdis that being Tavarez and Lugo.
Mike:
Loooooogo! He's fucking killing us.
Doug:
Absolutely. What the frig is it with Theo Epstein and shortstops? If signing Edgah Renteria was a disaster, then Lugo is turning about to be a God damned cataclysm in comparison.
Doug:
Arturo, I find myself in the rathah bizarre state of having nothing to bitch about.
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Enjoy the moment, Mr. Roy.
Doug:
I dunno, I feel so untethered … I mean what am I supposed to obsess about all day?
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
So let me get this straight. You're actually bitching about not having anything to bitch about?
Doug:
Exactly! I'm like a fly on a Möbius strip.
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Hey, don't be jinxing the kahma of the caht with your entomological metaphors.
Al:
You know, is it just me, or is Dice-K's "pelvic shimmy thrust" in his delivery getting more pronounced and, er, more creepy?
Mike:
If dude-san doesn't regain his command, the shimmy is going to be the least of your worries.
Al:
Ah, lighten up, a win is a win, and Matsuzaka is still feeling the aftah effects of the flu.
Doug:
Anothah bit of optimism — Seeing Renteria not in a Red Sox uniform.
Mike:
Yeah, that was probably Theo's biggest bonah since becoming GM.
Mike:
True, other so-called leadahs would have insisted their decision was the right one despite the evidence to the contrary. Major League leading 30 errahs, light bat? "Mission Accomplished!"
Doug:
OK. Now who needs to "let it go"?
Marty:
Ah, that's so typical of you Sux fans — turn a perennial cellar dweller like Tampa Bay into some imaginary Goliath, so you can strut around like a bunch of fag peacocks when you inevitably beat them. Pathetic.
Bill:
Oh, you're right, Mahty, I guess we are being a bit heavy on the hype with the Rays, but, fuck, can you blame us? I mean we have to find some sort of rivalry in the AL East now that beating the stuffing out of you guys has become so unremarkable.
Marty:
That is so asinine, Bill, even for you, that I'm not even going to dignify it with a response.
Bill:
And Steinny Junior sees what you fanboys refuse to accept: At this point just making the postseason is in question.
Marty:
You're delusional Callaghan to count the Yankees out based on April … Let me refresh your clam addled Boston brain &8230;
Marty:
Just last year the Yanks were 15-16 at this point, but came back strong. And we were 11-19 in '05 and 10-11 in '04 but beat your asses for the Division title both years.
Bill:
Ah, Earth to Mahty. Do you really want to pin your hopes to 3 seasons that ended with variations of unsuccess, disappointment and abysmal collapse?
Marty:
We are only 3 games back, Bill, I'd go easy on the hubris.
Bill:
True, Mahty, and you're only 0 fer 8 this Century. No bigs. You'll be fine I'm sure. And, you know, there's always next year, too.
Doug:
Ah, you know, lots of hitting the ball hahd but right at people …
Mike:
And lots of hurtage from numerous double-plays.
Al:
The offense will come around, but it sucks knowing that if the bats at just regressed to the mean, we'd probably be talking sweep this morning.
Doug:
4 runs in 45 innings? Ouch.
Mike:
Seriously. When you have fewer hits than Rogah Clemens has extra-marital affairs, then there's a problem.
Doug:
Reminds me, when the news broke that Barbara Walters had a past affair with a married man, my first thought was tell me it's Roger Clemens you ol' cougah whore.
Al:
No way. Clemens likes 'em young and dumb.
Mike:
Speaking of dumb, you heard the latest from Canseco? He wants to be in a reality TV show, a reality TV show "involving martial arts."
Doug:
Oh, and don't forget he's working on his 3rd book, a dahk sci-fi story about baseball and cloning.
Mike:
Oooh, can't hahdly wait.
Doug:
Memo to the American League: Our stahtahs are back, gird your friggin' loins.
Mike:
Last four stahtahs: 30 innings pitched, 3 earned runs, 0.90 ERA. Quod erat demonstratum, bitches .
Doug:
No we just need the offense to gel, and it's all warm touchin' warm.
Doug:
Yeah, yeah, and as expected the jealous ne'erdowells in the hintahlands West of the Berkshires have relegated Fenway, our Fenway, our lyric little bandbox of a ballpark to the bottom 3rd at numbah 21.
Mike:
Numbah 1 in "Tradition" but numbah 30 in "Affordability."
Ah, hello, frigtahds — Tradition doesn't come cheap.
Mike:
You know I'm willing to live with the 27th position in "hospitality" …
Doug:
Seriously, Fenway will nevah be mistaken for an "Up With People!" concert, more like "Up Your Friggin' Mothah's Ass, People!" Heh.
Mike:
Absolutely. If you want hospitality go to a hotel not a ballpahk, but losing out to St. Louis for the Numero Uno ranking of "Fan IQ" pisses me off.
Doug:
Well, with the Red Sox booming popularity since 2004 and all the bandwagonahs that have come with it, you've gotta figure the IQ pool would be diluted a bit.
Mike:
Well, even if that's true, speaking for myself and my palpitating cleavage loving haht, I'm willing to forfeit a few points in Fan IQ for that.
Doug:
No doubt. I mean you know what they say — All VORP and no cleave, makes Jack a dull dweeb.
In the emergency room one afternoon recently …
Doctor:
How did you get these cerebral contusions, timmy?
timmy (getting head wrapped):
I was jumped and pimp slapped by a gang of kids … they said I was a Yankees fan.
Doctor:
Now, timmy, where would they get a crazy idea like that? [Hesitates] You're not a Yankees fan are you?
Doctor:
While in my professional capacity I have to deplore violence and extortion as a means to an end, these ruffians have a point, no?
timmy (getting head wrapped):
Yes, doctor.Creative and engaging web content is worth at least as much as a pack of baseball cards. I know that now.
