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Mike:
But he loved the Boston fans.
Doug:
Except when we were, you know, obsessive and shit.
Al:
It's like being "in a cage"
Doug:
Take your stinking paws off me you damn dirty fans!
Mike:
Ah, c'mon let's cut the guy some slack. We were fortunate to have him in his prime and let's face it — not everyone is cut out to play in place like Boston.
Al:
Seriously. The pressure is intense.
Doug:
And medical science is just now stahting to unravel the mysterious connection between pressure and health.
Doug:
I mean look at Manny. When he was here his knees were pretty much bone rubbing against bone. And just showing up to play became a Herculean effort, let alone, you know, hustling and crap.
Doug:
But now that he's in LA, poof, just like that he's got the knees of T-101 Terminator.
Al:
What I don't get is if Manny hates playing in the pressure cookah environment, than why has he said more than once that he wants to one day play for the Yankees.
Doug:
Oh, you know, there's no pressure in New York. Just ask A-Rod's shrink.
Mike:
I know it's stupid, but as long as it's possible I keep hoping the Rays slump and allow the Sox to sneak in.
Al:
Nah. The Rays are playing with just too much confidence right now not to win one more and clinch.
Al:
And I don't see them losing that confidence anytime soon.
Mike:
Yeah, well, Colorado had so much confidence last year that they thought they'd been anointed by Jesus for a born again crusade through the post season.
Mike:
But they ended up more than a few loaves and fishes short.
Doug:
Guys, why are we even talking about the Rays? At this point our minds should be fully occupied with the Angels.
Mike:
Oh, we'll handle the Angels alright. What with Beckett bringing his special postseason version of menacing redneck to the mound.
Mike:
And Matsuzaka who'll walk umpteen but will be otherwise unhittable.
Al:
That's right. We spunky on your rally monkey.
Mike:
Oh, sweet irony … It'll nevah dawn on Damon to considah the converse:
You don't appreciate what you left behind.
Susan/Circle:
Of course, if you asked Damon to "considah the converse" he'd reply, "I can't because I'm signed with Puma."
Susan/Circle:
I mean he's tough, plays his ass off, and is so good looking, but he's not going to be recruited by Mensa anytime soon.
Mike:
And let's not forget, he left ovah a difference of $3 mil which has been pointed out time and again was actually a pay cut when you considah the cost of living in New York.
Susan/Circle:
I know. He played a hunch that the Red Sox were a temporary anomaly and the Yankees would be the ones bringing the bling.
Mike:
Well, that and he thought his mere presensce on a club could be the difference makah, but assembling a winning rostah is more complex than simply sticking with iconic veterans.
Susan/Circle:
Seriously. Look at the Red Sox. The only remaining players from "The Team" are Ortiz, Tek, Wake, Timlin and Youks.
Mike:
And, technically, Schilling.
Susan/Circle:
Yeah, true, poor forgotten Schill. But the point is that Theo and the Red Sox front office really stick to the plan — value ovah emotion.
Mike:
And the results speak for themselves.
Susan/Circle:
Do they evah.
Doug:
5 playoff appearances in 6 years. Sweet.
Mike:
Yeah, and this team is owed a real pat on the back for overcoming a lot of obstacles: injuries to Schilling, Mike Lowell, J.D. Drew and David Ortiz.
Doug:
The demise of implosion of Clay Buchholz.
Al:
And last but not least, Manny Being Ass-holey.
Mike:
Seriously. They've done a heckuva job, Brownie.
Al:
So 3 games back with 5 to go and a tie goes to Tampa Bay — Time to rest the stahtahs and play out the string?
Doug:
Let the Angels prepare to face their destiny — a black and white dreary world as imagined by Wim Wenders.
Bill:
These days really give me a sense of what Dickens meant went he wrote, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
Bill:
I mean on the one hand, the postseason is a lock, so there really is no need to feel any sense of pressure regarding wins and losses. That's the good paht.
Bill:
But on the othah hand, you watch a game like last night and you staht to obsess about whethah or not these guys have what it takes to go deep into the Octobah.
Mike:
Ah, come on. Relax and let the best of times roll ovah you.
Mike:
Just look at the numbahs. Among the 4 playoff teams in August and September, the Sox were simple the best of the bunch.
Mike:
And don't forget that the AL East is the friggin monadnock rising out of the flatness of the rest of the league. You think the Angels would be 97 and 59 in this Division? Gimme a break.
Mike:
And the pitching? Beckett, Matsuzaka, Lestah? In Octobah? Are you friggin' kidding me? Lights out, guy, lights out.
Bill:
Holy moist loins of Parvarti, you've made my day.
Mike:
I'm glad. Now can you return the favah by making me feel bettah about the complete collapse of our economy?
Bill:
No shit. Hasn't anyone down there in Wall Street evah read Moneyball fercrissakes? You can't invest on fucking hunches.
Bill:
Yeah, but it still makes me shake my head in wondah that there was a time we'd spend the entiah day today coming up with reasons why that .01% would kick in.
Doug:
Gotta love the modern era.
Bill:
He's really refined his repertoire: changeup, 2-seam shuuto, 4-seam fastball, cutter, slurve, and the *very* slow curve.
Doug:
What about the gyroball?
Bill:
Ah, the gyro inhabits the space between.
Doug:
Only by not naming the gyroball, does the gyroball exist?
Bill:
Precisely. And speaking of the zen/quantum quintessence of the Red Sox, how about Ellsbury &nash; What is wrong with his swing is asking what is wrong with his swing.
Doug:
Who knew following the Red Sox could be so deep?
Bill:
Absolutely. And it's if anyone asks me, "What is the way of the Red Sox fan?" I answer: "An open-eyed man falling into the well."
Doug:
Yeah, and when someone asks me, "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" I reply, "Yankees Suck!"
Your omniscient author in absentia:
Dear readers,
I'm totally crushed right now with a work/project deadline of the sort where "nobody leaves today until X, Y, and Z is complete" so I'm going to skip today's strip.
It doesn't help, of course, that we lost 4.5 hrs on Weds. for the "pep rally" thingy.
Ah, well, at least the Sox gained half a game doing nothing.
Bill (thinking to himself):
Yeah, I know, winning the division isn't important.
Bill (thinking to himself):
Well, except for losing homefield advantage.
Bill (thinking to himself):
And except for having to face the Angels instead of the White Sox.
Bill (thinking to himself):
And, of course, the chagrin of losing the Division to the Rays, the Rays fercrissakes.
Bill (thinking to himself):
Which doesn't especially bode well for facing the Rays in postseason, should such occur.
Bill (thinking to himself):
But, yeah, other than that, winning the Division doesn't mean shit.
Mike:
Well, that's the thing – Instead of waiting for a Tamba Bay collapse, we should be looking for a Red Sox vanquishment.
Bill:
Well, that's the othah thing – The Red Sox don't give a rat's ass about winnnig the Division. Only we fans do.
Mike:
And is that such a bad thing? Don't forget the 2004 Red Sox didn't win the division and that kinda sorta worked out.
Mike:
And, of course, just last year the Patriots did, you know, pretty good in the regulah season only to get taken to the woodshed by the wildcard Giants.
Bill:
I know. I know. That all makes perfect sense.
Bill:
But being cool and rational just doesn't sit right with me. My default state is more one of hotheaded and wildly irrational.
Mike:
Yeah, but you know what happens when one of us goes irrational?
Bill:
I dunno, does an angel lose its wings or something.
Mike:
No, but each time Sox fans veer into the irrational, Shaughnessy gets bonah.
Al:
Boom. Boom. Boom, er, Boom. Boom. … And, oh, yeah, BOOM.
Mike:
I love this: "The Rays' ace, Scott Kazmir, had seemingly collapsed under the pressure, beginning the game with nine straight balls …"
Doug:
Yeah, how's that fucking dead ahm working out for ya, Scotty?
Al:
Gee, I wondah when Pythagoras is going to catch up to the Rays? Ah, how about right fucking now?
Al:
And Beckett goes for numbah 13 tonight.
Doug:
Time to piss on this little Tampa Bay charade.
Mike:
Let's remembah, though, that we've caught the Rays twice before this season only to lose ground again.
Doug:
Screw that. It's time to go all Boss Paul on their asses: "You run one time, you got yourself a set of chains. You run twice you got yourself two sets. You ain't gonna need no third set, 'cause you gonna get your mind right."
Bill:
Ah, Mahty, Bill here returning your voice mail from Friday … Something about the Jets "smelling blood in the watah" and Brett Favre as the second coming …
Bill:
I mean, really, Mahts, you've got to stop drunk dialing.
Bill:
Seriously, Mahty, when are you New Yorkahs going to learn the lesson that you don't win by putting all your eggs in the overpriced, aging veterans who are on the precipice of or are already in the free fall of decline?
Bill:
While you guys turn to Favre, we pull out a Matt Cassel. Advantage Patriots scouting, Patriots drafting, and the Patriots development from within.
Bill:
You're right, Mahts. The Rays are a good club. But it's gotta hurt a little bit to think that they've gone from dead last to first while your guys, and their Lehman Brothahs payroll and A-listahs like A-Rod and Jetah and Damon, have gone from second to fourth.
Bill:
And the elephant in the room Mahty is that the regahdless of how the Rays end up this year, they'll be right there next year, too. But, hey, you know, there's honor in battling it out with the Orioles for that 4th and 5th position.
Marty:
Enjoy it while you can, Callaghan, the Yankees will be back and you know it.
Bill:
Careful, Mahts, you'd be surprised how fast a couple decades can fly by.
Marty:
Heh. And you should know.
Bill:
That's right, Mahty. Just look at how much has happened in just the 7 years since you guys were beaten by Arizona in the Serious — The Pats have won 3 Championships, the Red Sox two, and, oh right, the Celtics just won another.
Bill:
Time flies, Mahty. Bwahaha …
Bill:
Nothing like two final inning losses followed by an off day to leave one feeling totally out of sorts.
Mike:
No kidding. I feel like Jacoby Ellsbury trying to catch up to a Major League fastball — impotent and slightly embarassing to watch.
Bill:
Remembah when he used to swat those little bloop singles ovah the infieldahs heads, take first and then immediately steal second? I miss that guy.
Mike:
Just anothah remindah of just how difficult it is to play Major League Baseball. Adjust or die. And right now Ellsbury is doing a whole lot more dying at the plate than adjusting.
Mike:
Meanwhile, here come the red hot Blue Jays for four.
Mike:
Ah, that's nothing a sausage sandwich and sriracha won't cure.
Bill:
Yeah, that's the spirit. Turn up the heat on this mofo pennant race.
Mike:
I'm not sure what has me more pissed off …
Mike:
That we just lost 2 of friggin 3 to Tampa Bay in our own friggin house or that we are now 2 and a half back or, finally, that the very presence of the Rays atop the standings have completely drained, totally eviscerated and removed all the joy I should be feeling each and every day that the Yankees are fading into oblivion.
Doug:
Seriously. The mofo Rays are ruinin' my Indian summah!
Mike:
But here's the thing. Even though the last two meetings have left us with two black eyes, some broken ribs, and a ruptured nut, I still feel wholly confident that the next time we meet we'll kick the livin' daylights outta these guys.
Doug:
Absolutely. The Rays still seem more lucky than good.
Doug:
Well, except for Kazmir. He's the real deal.
Mike:
Yeah, and now Balfour.
Doug:
And Rocco Baldelli …
Mike:
And you know what else? That friggin Joe Maddon with his hipster black-rimmed glasses, silver hair, and rugged good looks is without a doubt the coolest looking managah in all of baseball.
Doug:
The dude is pissing some serious sang froid, no doubt.
Mike:
Give him a high ball glass and a Marlboro and he could step right onto the set of Mad Men.
Doug:
And, oh yeah, he managed Francona's pants off the past two nights.
Bill:
Absolutely. I was all set to wake up this morning in first place instead I'm stuck nursing the wrong end of walk off hangovah.
Bill:
But in the words of Bart Giammatti, "Baseball breaks your haht. It was designed to break your haht."
Doug:
Yeah, well, in the words of Bart Simpson, "I never thought it was humanly possible, but this both sucks and blows."
Doug:
I know blown saves happen and happen to the best relievahs, but still I keep wondering what the frig happened to Papelbon's splittah?
Bill:
Seriously, it's all fastball, fastball, fastball.
Bill:
That all you've got, "ugh"?
Doug:
Lugo deserves no more.
Mike:
So much for the friggin "Brady Bunch"
Al:
No kidding. This is like when Cousin Oliver came for a visit and nevah left — It's all downhill from here.
Doug:
Jesus wept I haven't heard this much self-pity and cheezy piety since the Pope died.
Doug:
Oh for the love of God, Shaughnessy is mocking you.
Doug:
Let me get this straight, the same fans who endured 86 years of Red Sox futility *and* years of the Patriots as also rans "are lost boys and lost girls"?
Doug:
C'mon, people. It's embarrassing. Cowboy the fuck up. Look at it as a challenge — Now you really get to see what a genius Belichick is as he works his magic without Brady.
Mike:
You been hitting the hydro early today, eh, Doug?
Doug:
But if you two sob sistahs want to go on pining for Tom Brady, have at it.
Doug:
And while you're gazing all teary eyed out the window tell me what you see? That's right, Fenway Pahk. Boston is a Red Sox town. Always has been. Always will be.
Mike:
So much for the friggin "Brady Bunch"
Al:
No kidding. This is like when Cousin Oliver came for a visit and nevah left — It's all downhill from here.
Doug:
Jesus wept I haven't heard this much self-pity and cheezy piety since the Pope died.
Doug:
Oh for the love of God, Shaughnessy is mocking you.
Doug:
Let me get this straight, the same fans who endured 86 years of Red Sox futility *and* years of the Patriots as also rans "are lost boys and lost girls"?
Doug:
C'mon, people. It's embarrassing. Cowboy the fuck up. Look at it as a challenge — Now you really get to see what a genius Belichick is as he works his magic without Brady.
Mike:
You been hitting the hydro early today, eh, Doug?
Doug:
But if you two sob sistahs want to go on pining for Tom Brady, have at it.
Doug:
And while you're gazing all teary eyed out the window tell me what you see? That's right, Fenway Pahk. Boston is a Red Sox town. Always has been. Always will be.
Mike:
And every one of the Sox seems to be getting hot at just the right time.
Susan/Circle:
And you do mean everyone — Don't look now but Coco Crisp, of all playahs, has now had 5 straight multiple hit games.
Mike:
Is the acquisition of the Mike Lowell the most furtive trade of the Epstein era or what? I mean if you remembah, everyone originally was swallowing Lowell like some bittah pill to choke down as the price to pay for getting Josh Beckett.
Susan/Circle:
And turns out Lowell is the friggin bomb.
Mike:
Seriously. They oughta name a dying mill town on the Merrimac aftah that guy.
Susan/Circle:
Why stop at the Merrimac, let's name one on the Quequechan.
Mike:
But you can't have two Lowells in the same state.
Susan/Circle:
No, that's why the second mill town namesake should be "Studchestah."
Continue reading "The race tightens" »
Doug:
So every time I see one of those Code Pink protestahs my nads tighten up into protect mode because these chicks always look like they're ready to cut somebody's nuts off with a rusty razah blade.
Doug:
I mean where in the frig is the "peace" in that?
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Quite a difference from the ol' days, eh, Mr. Roy?
Doug:
Are you kidding me? If this were '03 or befoah, I'd be sitting here waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
But these days the first shoe doesn't even drop, let alone the othah one.
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Theo is as careful with his shoes as Mr. Rogers was.
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Ah, maybe before your time … Mr. Rogers was this show for kids on PBS, you can Google it, and each episode began with Mr. Rogers coming into his home and methodically and eerily mezmerizingly changing out of his "street" shoes and into a pair of Keds boatahs.
Doug:
I dunno, Ahts, sounds kinda gay.
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Oh, shit yeah, Rogers was queeah as a three dollah bill, but that's beside the point.
Doug:
Yeah, the point is Josh Beckett returns tonight.
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Loading and blessing the vines?
Doug:
The way they've been playing the past dozen games or so almost has me thinking about winning the division again …
Doug:
But having been a bit premature in that regahd a couple times already this year, I'll remain circumspect.
Mike:
Yeah, I'm with you. Let's just sit back and watch how things play out.
Doug:
Of course, watching the Yankees game last night, the ESPN crew didn't have any problem at all declaring that the Yankees are still in it and will more than likely kick mofo ass because, you know, cue eerie music, they were
exactly
7 games back last year on this very date. Oooooohhhh.
Mike:
Yeah, and they were 3 games up in the '04 ALCS but in the end the results were the same — Yankees loosahs.
Mike:
But Christ 2 minutes and 15 seconds to determine whether a ball was fair or foul?
Doug:
Seriously, I've had relationships that took less time than that.
Doug:
OK. So at lunch today I'm going to go ovah to the courthouse and have my name officially changed to Doug Pedroia Roy.
Mike:
No, that's no tear. That's two tectonic plates colliding and opening up a fissure in the earth's crust is what that is.
Doug:
Yeah, Pedroia's the asteroid hitting the earth and opening up a can of extinct on the dinosaurs.
Al:
If Pedroia was a hurricane he'd make landfall in Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida simultaneously.
Mike:
Are you friggin' kidding me, if Dustin Pedroia was a hurricane the "F" in FEMA would stand for fucked.
Doug:
Seriously. If Pedroia was a hurricane, aftahwahds Kanye West would say that Kanye West hates black people.
Mike:
I don't even think I get that last one, yet it sounds like it should be funny.
Doug:
Yeah, kinda like how 160lb, short as shit Pedroia doesn't look like one of the best to evah suit up in red stockings, yet there the fuck he is.
Updated Tuesday a.m. 09/02 — I spent my time this morning working on fixing some of the display issues in lieu of doing a strip. I mean Pedroia doesn't cut corners, so neither will The Soxaholix.
Lisa the Temp:
While you're out enjoying the Labor Holiday at your picnics and beaches (bitches!) and lakes, the temps of this world are here slaving away on the holiday and getting things done.
Lisa the Temp:
Like the new Soxaholix redesign you see before you.
Lisa the Temp:
You'll probably find some bugs. But the bugs belong to Brachen and not Lisa the Temp. Remember that, peeps.
Continue reading "Labor Day Labors" »
