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Doug:
So today we have a one game playoff to decide who will meet tomorrow in, er, a one game playoff.
Mike:
Talk about needing a template of a template.
Al:
All I know is I'm hoping like hell both those games go, oh I dunno, 18 innings a piece.
Doug:
So do we have to wait until the AL Wildcahd is settled before they announce the schedule?
Mike:
All I know at this point is there are TBD games on Friday at 1, 4, 7 and 10.
Al:
If the Sox are in that 1pm slot, well, let's just say that I'll be experiencing a bad reaction to a flu shot and won't be able to come into work that day.
Mike:
As much as I love daytime, playoff baseball... ah the long shadows laying across the infield... there's no way we're not the prime time draw.
Doug:
Seriously, everything about this team is prime time.
Al:
This is going to be a long week of waiting.
Mike:
If you would have told me in April that our biggest gripe on the last day of Septembah would be having to wait 4 days for a Fenway playoff openah, well, you know the rest.
Mike:
Seriously it couldn't be more simple. You grow yourself a Gomes style beard. Rob bank. Shave beard. And then live happily evah aftah with your undisclosed amount of money.
Al:
Now it's only a mattah of time before he's exposed.
Doug:
Well, one would think. But look at Ron Washington, he's been disguising himself as an effective managah in Texas for years now and nobody seems to have figured it out yet.
Mike:
Ron Washington and Bobby Valentine should team up to make a black guy, white guy buddy movie together...
Al:
Yeah, the the log line could be "Pulp Fiction meets Dumb and Dumbah."
Al:
And makes wisecracks in bad Japanese.
Doug:
Yeah, and every time the duo find themselves in some calamity of their own making, the Ron Washington charactah just shakes his head and drawls, "Well, dat's da way baseball go.""
Your omniscient author in absentia:
Update, Thurs., 9/26
Out late last night wining and dining... please carry on the creepiness at your leisure.
***
Apologies for the late notice, but next two days were having a work shindig involving our international vendors, and this has me up and going to the office a couple hours earlier than normal.
So no strip today, and I'll need to see how it goes for tomorrow.
We'll make it up in the postseason. (Does it feel good to say that or what?)
Mike:
This is a great time for reflection... So what was your favorite moment of the 2013 season so far?
Susan/Circle:
The moment when they fired Valentine.
Mike:
Heh. OK. So how about during the season itself?
Susan/Circle:
The morning I woke up so happy when I realized that just moments before I was only having a nightmare in which Bobby Valentine was still the managah of the Red Sox.
Mike:
You know you're going to have to move on, right?
Susan/Circle:
I have. Absolutely. That is my point. Everything about the season has been wonderful since it stahted.
Susan/Circle:
That the Red Sox also happen to have clenched a playoff birth and have the best record in the majahs is pure icing on the cake of ambrosia.
Susan/Circle:
It is the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.
Susan/Circle:
The maturing sun has filled Fenway with ripeness to the core.
Doug:
I would have said, "Holy shit but that's a potent hahvest of Hindukush, please pass the vaporizah post-haste."
Mike:
How about if somebody had said that the following night John Lestah would be posed for his 100th career win and that the win would clinch the Division title.
Doug:
Well, I would have said, somebody please send ovah a couple of comely Eastern European young ladies to help me make a creampie, because obviously I was having some sort of hallucinogenic fantasy trip and I may as well exploit it to its fullest.
Doug:
Ah, hang on, I've got a call coming in from some Ekaterina Vodianova, I bettah take this.
Al:
I need to keep myself fresh for the playoffs and all.
Doug:
Well, I confess I went to bed with the assumption that I'd wake up to discover that, like so many times before, the Sox walked off heroically in the final at bat.
Doug:
Instead, I wake to find they lost but still dropped the magic numbah to 1, which is almost as good.
Mike:
Yeah, I'll take the numbah at 1, but there is something unseemly about backing into winning the division on the back of anothah club's loss.
Mike:
And with that vision in mind, all of a sudden tonight's game is a "must win."
Lisa the Temp:
Did I ever tell you that you have a face for bangs?
Lisa the Temp:
You know what Lisa's magic number is?
Lisa the Temp:
That's right, peeps, that's the number of days left before Lisa can sign up for the Affordable Care Act.
Lisa the Temp:
No longer will Lisa be denied coverage based on a pre-existing condition.
Lisa the Temp:
Yes, peeps, it's true.
Lisa the Temp:
Lisa has..., well, the full medical term is actually beyond your comprehension, so let's put this in way that you can understand...
Lisa the Temp:
It's called "The Sexy"
Lisa the Temp:
And there is no cure.
Doug:
No movement in the magic numbah.
Doug:
Looks like the Rangahs have discovered the joys of beer and chicken.
Mike:
Meanwhile, two years removed from our own beersharkalypse it's hahd to fathom that things are rosy that the Globe is doing offday fillah pieces on beards.
Doug:
Yeah, so it turns out that John Lackey is not only most-improved with respect to performance, but he's also most-improved with respect to adding a beard.
Doug:
There's only one thing wrong with being hirsute...
Doug:
Putin hates beards.
Mike:
I know. That's why Bigfoot disappeared.
Bill:
So, Mahts, have you accepted reality yet or are you still clinging to the Wild Cahd fantasy like lovestruck tween at a One Direction concert?
Marty:
Funny, Callaghan. But that's pretty smug considering the Red Sox look pretty average to me.
Bill:
Yeah, I know what you mean, Mahty, that whole best record in baseball thing kinda defines average doesn't it.
Marty:
Just wait until team Amish faces some quality pitching, OK, Callaghan?
Bill:
C'mon, now, Mahts, you know the Sox aren't going to be facing themselves in the playoffs.
Bill:
But don't worry, I'm sure the Yankees will be contendahs again someday, you know, not 2014 or anything, but eventually.
Marty:
Good to see you accept the inevitability of the Yankees dominance, Callaghan.
Marty:
I can't figure out why Sox fans are so smug. It certainly can't be your team's history.
Marty:
You're not only behind the Yankees in WS Championships, you're behind the Cardinals and Athletics! You're tied with the Giants and only one ahead of the Dodgers. Heck the poor Dodgers would be way ahead of the Sawx if they hadn't had to play ----yes, you guessed it, the Yankees in 11 WS in which they lost 8 of them!
Marty:
Yeah, I'm sure given the Red Sux history of epic collapse that the number 13 is going to be really lucky for you.
Bill:
Hey, Mahty.... Boo!
Your omniscient author in absentia:
As I mentioned yesterday, I'm out of town for a 3-day weekend. Enjoy watching the magic number decrease.
Doug:
Seriously, the only thing I have to bitch about is trying to decide on which champagne to pop first...
Doug:
Should I go with a vintage? A blanc de blancs or a blanc de noirs?
Bill:
Do you worry at all about jinx?
Doug:
Let's put it this way: Does Putin worry about jinx?
Bill:
Are you kidding me, Putin does not receive bad luck because, to other people, he is bad luck.
Bill:
Putin abhors a vacuum.
Doug:
Well, if this season's gourd wasn't already previously swelled, then last night Buchholz plumped the hazel shells.*
Al:
And the magic numbah is 10.
Al:
To put things into perspective, if the Sox only play .500 ball for the remaindah, Tampa Bay would have to go 19 - 1 just to tie for the division lead.
Mike:
Speaking of .500, I've gone from thinking in April how I'd be happy with 81-81 .500 finish, to thinking maybe there's a shot at wild cahd, to thinking I think they can win the division to absolute certainty in winning the decision and all the way to my thought today—
They actually have a shot homefield advantage through the entiah playoffs.
Al:
Absolutely. The magic numbah for homefield is 14.
Doug:
Let's face it. If this season were an ass, it'd be twerking us.
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Nothing like a rest day to contemplate the ripening of a 7 and a half game lead, eh, Mr. Roy?
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Staht chillin' the espumante.
Doug:
So, Arturo, what's with the Russian movin' a caht into your territory?
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Oh, no worries, the Russian's not a business threat.
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Well, let's just say that his primary interest is not in the sale of hot dogs.
Doug:
Ah, some "off menu" items, eh?
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Yeah, if you're in the know, you'll order "The Putin" with the works, hold the onions, and then aftah you satisfactorily answer a couple of firewall questions about the price of beets in Kiev you'll be given the details on meeting one of several dopey-eyed young ladies with Slavic origins and a questionable abidance.
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Yes, always a favorite for the discerning customah.
Doug:
Absolutely. I heard Putin fed one to Obama at the G20.
Arturo, the hot dog vendor:
Smaht diplomacy. Leading from behind and from below.
Doug:
Seriously, it's détente... One must relax to take in the enormity of Russian diplomacy.
Mike:
Look, there's hubris, right?
Doug:
Hubris of the sort that gets a visit from Nemesis.
Al:
Yes, we know it well.
Mike:
But I'm telling you, it's not hubris when you're just observing, measuring, and formulating a hypothesis.
Mike:
What I'm talking about here is nothing less than the scientific method.
Mike:
And the reality speaks for itself.
Mike:
The Yankees are not going to overtake the Red Sox.
Mike:
The Orioles are not going to overtake the Red Sox.
Mike:
The Rays are not going to overtake the Red Sox.
Mike:
The science is settled.
Bill:
Ok, enough, yakking, let's get back to work... and by "work" I mean, of course, taunting Yankees fans on social media.
Mike:
And Papi hits two slump-busting homahs while Vladimir Putin is in St. Petersburg for the G20.
Coincidence? I think nyet.
Doug:
The Hunt for Red Sox Octobah. It's on.
Al:
"Give me a ping, Mr. Pedroia. One ping only, please."
Mike:
So did it feel like a preview to Octobah last night or what?
Mike:
Tight game, excellent pitching, timely hitting.
Mike:
The last playoff game was 2009, but it feels like it's been since 1909.
Mike:
I'm not saying nothing.
Bill:
Um, for those of who are a bit long tooth, it's worth pointing out that in 1978 the Red Sox were 5.5 games ahead of the Yankees on September 2nd, but by September 12th were only half a game ahead.
Bill:
So don't count your chickens before you finish your beer.
