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Al:
The Home Openah, against the Yankees, no less, is only days away...
Mike:
I've heard of the lady April bringing in the daffodils,
Bringing the springing grass and the soft warm April rain...
Al:
Lady Mahch is a bitch.
Doug:
A bikah bitch cranked on meth.
Bill:
The Yankees are the team to beat and the Red Sox are good but it's questionable how much they've really improved.
Bill:
Yeah, it reminds me of something, something but I just can't place it.
Doug:
You know why they're using cartoon heads, right?
Bill:
Sure, because cartoon heads are Hawt.
Doug:
Fuck, yeah, they are.
Doug:
If only there was an irreverent Red Sox themed comic strip that could somehow appropriate these columnist cartoon heads as a form of fair use parody...
Bill:
Now you're just talking crazy.
Al:
Seriously, where does one begin?
Al:
I mean there's a Hitler and a Stalin and a Dr. Speedy Nutz. All in the same bracket no less.
Doug:
And what about Dick Smallberries?
Mike:
But wait, it's not just Dick Smallberries but Dick Smallberries Junior!
Al:
And you gotta love the phonetics of X'Zavier. I mean is that a name worthy of a teak X'zylograph or what?
Doug:
You know, it really takes a lotta balls to give your kid a name like Aristole Socrates.
Mike:
No, it doesn't just take balls, it takes Pamela Balls.
Mike:
Shhhh... it's Mahch so he probably thought it was a WBC game.
Susan/Circle:
Sigh, remembah the halcyon days when we were thinking up Japanese sci-fi monstah names for soon to be unanimous Cy Young winnah Dice-K?
Mike:
Yeah, it's been quite awhile since the moniker Mothra was applied to Matsuzaka, eh?
Susan/Circle:
Seriously. Giant lepidopteran? Ah, not so much.
Susan/Circle:
Giant Jelly Donut? Ok. That's works.
Bill:
The best paht is that the spot acknowledges that not everyone finds the whole Sweet Caroline thing an endearing piece of whimsy.
Bill:
Well, "vindication" might be a little strong...
Bill:
But if the dude had closed it out with a "rent a sunset, bitches" now that would do it.
Al:
The early prognosis is that it's just a mild, keep an eye on it day to day, kinda thing.
Mike:
Yeah, well, pencil me in as skeptical and more than a little bit worried.
Doug:
Seriously, whenevah the medical reports staht talking about how mild a wrist injury is I'm reminded of NASA...
Doug:
"Ah, well, it's just a piece of foam and it bounced right of and shit. This will not in any way, whatsoevah, effect the mission."
Al:
Now you've gone and increased my risk for a panic attack. This leaves me no choice but to consult with Dr Jameson at lunch.
Bill:
Bill:
Overheard in the Tamba Bay dugout: "Boof, It's What's for Dinner."
Bill:
It's a good thing you can nevah have too much pitching.
Mike:
So any post-vacation pearls of wisdom?
Doug:
Sunscreen. Can't have too much of it.
Al:
Seriously, I burnt the tops of my feet and hobbled around like a Game 6 Bill Bucknah for 4 days.
Mike:
I'm surprised our eternal do-goody Bud Selig hasn't taken up the cause of mandatory sunscreen application at MLB games?
Doug:
Maybe he'll get to that right aftah he finishes his "speed up the game" crusade.
Al:
Yep, let's get this baseball commodity packaged up into a neat little 3-hour segment like it's the fucking Today Show or something.
Mike:
Seriously, we can't have games running long on Fox on Saturdays and pre-empting a new episode of Cops fercrissakes.
Doug:
Really. We don't have time for plate discipline and seeing a lot of pitches and wearing a pitcher down when there is a bleeding, meth-faced, redneck in a stretched out wifebeatah competing for our entertainment pleasure.
Your omniscient author in absentia:
The Soxaholix gang and the creepy, omniscient hand that guides them are on vacation this week, March 15 – 19.
Mike:
I've got a whole lotta nothin today.
Susan/Circle:
Honestly, I couldn't give a rat's ass how dude is finding the transition to the NL.
Mike:
Seriously. I'd rathah read feature on the history of Sriracha on sausage.
Mike:
Yeah, considering he did such a brilliant job with that perennial leviathan of the NL, the Padres, and was replaced in San Diego by Theo accolade Jed Hoyer. Scawy.
Susan/Circle:
Absolutely. I'm shakin in my Uggs over heah.
Bill:
One reason why is baseball such a great game is that it is a game where sentiment is embraced wholeheartedly.
Mike:
Absolutely. And the sentimentality inherent to baseball is yet anothah of the game's "complementary contradictions."
Bill:
So we can go from idolizing a home team hero to "That's why nobody wants to fucking play here" to sulking alone in the the dugout to what occurred yestahday with Nomah's retiahment and it all makes perfect sense.
Mike:
As Giamatti put-forth, "The hungah for home makes the green geometry of the baseball field more than simply a metaphor for the American experience and charactah."
Mike:
And all is right with the world.
Al:
Everything's just humming along in camp.
Doug:
Not that we're complaining or anything.
Mike:
But it does make for a tepid watah coolah discussion.
Al:
I know just the thing to liven up the pahty — Tickle Fight!
Mike:
You know I didn't think anything could replace the "wide stance" in the annals of Congressional chicanery when dealing with a sexual impropriety.
Mike:
But the idea of a 50 year old dude tickling anothah dude until dude can't breathe being "taken out of context" is on a whole othah level.
Doug:
The funny thing is if it were Manny Ramirez telling the tickle fight story, it wouldn't seem strange at all.
Al:
Maybe Manny should run for Congress when he retiahs from baseball?
Mike:
"I see the bill. I vote the bill."
Bill:
Ah, if it isn't Mahty Small Maht.
Marty:
What's next, Bill? Lynching a guy in Yankees cap? That be par for the course for you redneck yahoos.
Bill:
I know it'll be difficult, perhaps impossible, for the creatively challenged to comprehend, but those videos are an example of a little thing called self-parody. Perhaps you've heard of it?
Marty:
Oh, really? Funny I thought it was an example of a little thing called an inferiority complex?
Bill:
Hmmm, lemme see, overcompensating, that sounds familiah... oh, wait, that's right, we just use the more clinical definition — Advanced Recurring Overcompensation Disordah.
Bill:
Or in the vernaculah what we tend refer to as "A-Rod" for short.
Doug:
Chick was looking good, too, really good in that dress.
Doug:
Of course, that is not to say that we are not in a pretty terrific place these days with regahd to pitching.
Al:
Gotta love this line: "a Beckett-Lackey-Lester threesome has a Maddux-Glavine-Smoltz feel to it."
Doug:
Two things you can nevah have enough off, and they both begin with a "p."
Tara:
Sigh. Snow in March.
Susan/Circle:
I know. Without a window or with it's the same old rancid jam.
Susan/Circle:
Seriously. When I see the highligts in HD, I feel like Veruca Salt getting her first glimpse of WonkaLand.
Susan/Circle:
I want to reach out and eat the screen.
Tara:
♫ Talk about your childhood wishes...
Susan/Circle:
♪ 60 feet and 6 inches
Doug:
Imagine what we'd be saying if they weren't beating up on the college kids?
Mike:
Heavy lobstah pot
Wet deck awash with red claws –
Too small, toss 'em back.
Mike:
And Scott Boras always has Damon's best interest at heart. And that's the troof.
Mike:
I wondah if they offered this one to Amalie and she was like, "Ewww."
Doug:
Just remembah: "This is baseball, people. Nothing is sacred. And everybody’s a comedian."
Mike:
So it looks like the "Red Sox are all defense and no offense and henceforth are dooooomed!" meme has some competition...
Doug:
And as for awkward, I don't think it mattahs. We're talking about a professional baseball club, not a cocktail pahty.
Mike:
Well, there's that, and then there's the question of whether the situation even qualifies as awkward.
Doug:
Seriously. Awkward is when you're in middle school and you're all of a sudden afflicted with a seemingly random yet evahlasting bonah which is sorta fine when you're sitting at your desk but becomes problematic when the bell rings, so you attempt some make shift obfuscation with a combo of hand in pocket, peculiah knee bent stances, and the strategic placement of your books and notes.
Mike:
Ah, yes, the unsolicited, random, male adolescent erection... very awkward.
Doug:
Signing Lackey while Beckett is in his contract year? Not so much.
Mike:
If you've evah wondahed why something feels off to you when you watch a Ken Burns piece on baseball but can't quite ennunciate it, then commit this line to memory:
Mike:
"Boring New Yorkers who know squat-all about baseball will be trying to bum me out about the Dodgers and Giants when I’m on my deathbed, wrapping it all up in a bow of insufferable and inaccurate nostalgia that attempts to validate their mildly sad junior high school days by impugning the greatest-ever sport’s greatest-ever players: i.e., the ones playing right the hell now."
Al:
Absolutely. My eyes always glass ovah when some ol curmudgeon stahts bloviating about how he quit baseball forevah, forevah!, when the (insert Giants or Dodgahs) left New York.
Doug:
Seriously. It's like, dude, shut your livah spotted bagel hole already.
Al:
To stop liking baseball because the Giants or Dodgahs moved to the West Coast is like no longah liking beauty moles and nice tits aftah Marilyn Monroe died.
Mike:
Well, that it's then. Curling is done. Now what are we supposed to do?
Bill:
As crazy as it sounds, somehow I think we'll get along just fine.
Mike:
See those plans for the "Florida Fenway" new spring training facility? Saaa-weet.
Bill:
"The field dimensions would be the same as Fenway Pahk down to having the bullpens in right field."
Mike:
Funny how fah "a compromise between Man's Euclidian determinations and Nature's beguiling irregularities"* can take you.
Bill:
That's what she said.
