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Nomah returns...

Finally in Boston we can take a MJ break.  Not to talk about the political status of Honduras but to talk of the return of Nomah. Boston is full of the most loyal and yet harshest fans.  I remember the first time I ever saw Dice-K, he dropped the puck at a Bruins game when we were still figuring out how to say his name correctly.  Everyone in the Garden stood, only expecting greatness, from a pitcher we truly didn’t know much about.  Last same I saw him, he was on the mound at Fenway, and he got booed like a Yankee. Before 2004 the medias only job in Boston was to boo.  You read the sports page now and it’s a whole new thing, full of bunnies and flowers, and maybe the occasional Manny bashing (even with him all the way in LA).  Before it was all a bashing.

Tonight lets not just focus on our break-up with Nomar. Lets focus on the man, the player. He was a go to guy while he was in the city.  Kids playing peewee mimicked his superstitions at bat.  For a while, he was Boston. He embraced the butchery of his name.  Think back to a shortstop Nomah caliber, who has stayed long enough for you to invest in a jersey…

The trade ended up working.  But without Nomah, even just his promise, that season would we have made it to the Series?  I cried when he was traded. I went to Wrigley that season in my jersey and Cubs fans bought me beers, because we got each other.  We understood the misery of curses, we had an excuse to be massholes, we had every right to drink a few too many, and boo at our own players.

But now we have six players going to the All-Star game, about time, Wakey! We have two rings, and Cubs fans hate us.  Boston sports writers are smiling, guest starring on PTI and Around the Horn.  It’s been raining all summer, and we are in better moods than five years ago.  We’re in first place. 

So I’m standing for Nomah.  Lets show an old hero how far we have come.  And then lets stand for who will hopefully become a Fenway hero, Smoltz…

What if we pay you ten mil a year AND throw in Bobby Orr?

Say goodbye to Bay.  It was fun while it lasted. Unless Bobby Orr can pull some seduction stunt, wear your jersey while you can.

The way the Sox work these days is far from Yankee style. We aren’t about to cut a Texiera type deal. It’s just not how we roll. We are bargain hunters.  Look at Wake.  And look at Dice-K... Bargains work better for us.  Look at our talent on the farm teams right now.

So if you are a huge Bay fan, here’s my suggestion.  Get into young talent.  Go to Fenway this Thursday and see the Cape Cod all-star game. It’s $10.  These are the next superstars.  Soak up some sun(finally) and drown your Bay tears with some overpriced beer.

Lets see these kids before they get agents who turn hearts into pinstripes.

A beautiful father's day weekend!

I stayed at my parents this weekend with every intention to study, I ignored my phone, and well, I tried to ignore Fenway.
    After this week I was looking forward to a baseballless weekend.  The loss that felt stolen on the Thursday.  Going back to Fenway still cold from the night before to watch Dice-K. I had told a Phillies fan the night before we are better at Fenway, because we don’t boo our own team. Was I ever wrong. Watching Dice-K Friday night reminded me of when my older sister and brother forced me to watch the movie It at age five. I was terrified and unable to move.  Could this really be happening? First pitch a home run? The only thing more terrifying than a clown is Dice-K this season.
    So I woke up Saturday determined to forget about baseball.  I started my day with a cup of tea and a chapter for school. Then talked baseball for about a half hour with a neighbor… and that was the beginning of the end.
    Last night I tune into the game late, fuzzy headed. It doesn’t make sense. How is it so deep in the game already with Beckett? Wait, no runs on the board… How could I have forgotten Lowe was pitching.  The fans made up for booing Dice-K when they gave Lowe a standing o.  And then gave Lowe another as he left, and tipped his hat, after losing a pitching battle at Fenway to Beckett, looking again like a pitching god.
    A beautiful day in Fenway.  And then today… despite weather conditions that could ruin any knuckleballer, Wake pitches a solid game. Not his tenth win, but it’s almost July, and it isn’t about statistics anymore, it’s all about making it to the post season. Pap pitches, not particularly well, and puts fear into all of our heads, but in the end he keeps us at a tie. I’m thinking, Green, a June hero is up next, no way I’m getting work done. I pop open a beer and get back just in time for his walk-off.  Says he didn’t even know it was a walk-off.
    But if you’ve been watching Green over the past few weeks, you nearly knew it was going to be a walk off before hearing his bat even hit the ball.  Hours later I read the Globe,  Dice-K is on the DL, the nightmares over, for awhile anyway.  The six-man rotation is only an urban legend.
    I didn’t get much work done. Hell, that’s what Mondays are for.  Anyway, I had to celebrate fathers day, most of those guys are fathers, right?

Fenway Pissed...

Mike Lowell was not the only one pissed off in the pissing rain of Fenway last night.  I sat drenched surrounded about other shivering fans. A row behind me a father had brought his daughter and a group of friends to the game to explain baseball. Lets hope he was able to teach the game quickly as they only made it five full innings…the exact cut off for calling a game.
    Am I pissed off right now because after enduring an hour and a half of cold we didn’t come up with a win? No, I’m pissed because we didn’t come out with a game.  Baseball is an expensive spectator sport.  The tickets, the beer, the hot dogs, and even expletive water.  So when you go out freeze your ass off, get in more credit debt, only to realize the game probably never should have been played in the first place, you can’t help but feel scammed.  I’m sure people were puzzled looking at cold wet fans on their TVs, but when you commit to a night at Fenway its hard to let go.  It’s not like tickets are easy to come by. I mean people blow hundreds, hell; they blow kidneys on these games.
    The Sox were scammed for a win. We were scammed for more of our money. In this economy you think the least they could do would be to give us a full game. There was a kid sitting next to me who had waterproofed his sign, his optimism was incredible. It was his first game at Fenway, and his father wasn’t about to ruin it by getting him inside.  It seemed finally the worst of the torrential rainfall was through with, and maybe this boy would see a full game after all.
 And then they called it.
    Baseball isn’t like football or rugby, it doesn’t get better in crummy weather, it doesn’t get more interesting. The risk of injuries is heightened for players, and the risk of phenomena is increased for the loyalist of fans.
    Did they honestly ever believe they would see nine innings in last night’s conditions? Some fan appreciation they have…

Same old story...

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or not having time to get the paper this week. But I thought there was no game last night. The schedule is in my day calender and on my fridge and this champion match up escaped my mind. I started catching up on things I’ve forgotten about since the Sox started really playing. Like eating and laundry.

Then from the corner of my eye I saw Francona on the TV while I was socially (no TV dinner with radio) eating. Looking closer I realized it was the Phillies, it wasn’t a replay. Lester was pitching. It was what I knew would be another classic. Quickly we finished dinner and moved with our drinks to the bar to get a better view of the game.

I had an online seminar when I returned home, but my Godmother, god bless her, promised to call me anytime something happened.

Youky got a homer! Drew got a homer! Another strikeout for Lester!

No one should have classes in the summer. I told myself if I made it through my work by nine I could listen to the 7th till the finish. The seminar ended and my ESPN pop-up informed me it was already the top of the ninth.  But usually their games are three hours, average.

Panic mode. Quickly I turned on my radio full blast. Lester 11 strikeouts and no win. 11 strikeouts? This kid is- well should be- unbeatable! It was like Ramirez knew I hadn’t gotten of my fill of baseball for the evening, so just for me, he blew it. So I could listen to at least an hour of baseball, so I could hear Drew get booed, hear the fast shuffle of Ellsburys feet, the sound of a 99mph pitch hitting Ibanez, and hear Joe happily sign off.

So the story is more or less the same. Lester pitches brilliantly getting double-digit strikeouts.  Bay is a hero.  And our pitching depth outlasts the other guys. Same old story, but in Boston we’re far from bored.

Fan Appreciation

An email came from Bruins fans relations this morning. This could be exciting. Maybe after their heartbreaking season they have brought back the mini-pack. Or found a way reduce the price of full season tickets, so I once again have my oasis in winter.

It has nothing to do with the Bruins. But because I am a game plan holder I do get first dibs on Jonas Brothers tickets. Are they serious?

Pitching never seemed so good...

Last night was another incredible pitching night highlighted with an Ortiz homer. This is baseball I can get used to.  Eight strikeouts. Beautiful pitches.  And it didn’t end with Beckett.

The most amazing thing right now about the Red Sox is our depth. Beckett looked like he could have pitched another inning, he left after 93 pitches.  But why keep him in not when you have Delcarmen with a 1.07 ERA?  And after some moments of locally made Boston perfection, why not throw in Ramirez? Yes, we can wear our Ramirez shirts again, it’s just a matter of some duct tape.  And finally for dessert Farrell throw in a little portion of Bard.  Why not? That kid was the chocolate soufflé of the night.  Two pitches at 100mph.   There was not time too hate the Yankees, only time to love the Sox.

And it doesn’t end here either. Look at Buchholz in Pawtucket. Our depth extends to our farm teams.  The question is quickly becoming what are we going to do with all of this pitching depth. Buchholz can’t stay in Pawtucket forever; it’s just not fair to the major league.

I don’t want to give any answers; I’m enjoying the question too much.

Cheers to Fenway!

      What you have to understand about Saturday was that it was magical. For six and 1/3 innings Fenway was quiet.  More than quiet, still. No one moved for beers.  The bottom of the inning was just something to get through. Lester was perfect.
    No walks no hits.  I have yet to be at a no-hitter, never mind a perfect game. You ever gaze out at the Grand Canyon and realize a photo just won’t do it any justice?  That was Saturday.
    I woke up today bought the Globe to have with my tea only to pick up the old Sunday Globe instead. I needed to relive the perfect (well perfect enough) Saturday.
My cousin, a Yankees fan, but on that night a baseball fan, said to me, could you imagine if Young had flu tonight?
    The only two hits Lester allowed both came from Young.  It was a NESN classic caliber game. A different legend of Fenway seemed to find a way into each of his pitches.      What you have to understand about Saturday was that it was magical. For six and 1/3 innings Fenway was quiet.  More than quiet, still. No one moved for beers.  The bottom of the inning was just something to get through. Papis homer was great but Lester, Lester was perfect.
    No walks no hits.  I have yet to be at a no-hitter, never mind a perfect game. You ever gaze out at the Grand Canyon and realize a photo just won’t do it any justice?  That was Saturday.
    I woke up today bought the Globe to have with my tea only to pick up the old Sunday Globe instead. I needed to relive the perfect (well perfect enough) Saturday.
My cousin, a Yankees fan, but on that night a baseball fan, said to me, could you imagine if Young had flu tonight?
    The only two hits Lester allowed both came from Young.  It was a NESN classic caliber game. A different legend of Fenway seemed to find a way into each of his pitches.  For less than two and a half hours we were able to forget about hockey and basketball.  Boston once again became the center of the sports universe, and it felt damn god to be back.
    Now with the Yankees and rain coming to Boston we can only hope to get another glimpse of such summer perfection.
For less than two and a half hours we were able to forget about hockey and basketball.  Boston once again became the center of the sports universe, and it felt damn god to be back.
    Now with the Yankees and rain coming to Boston we can only hope to get another glimpse of such summer perfection.

On Friday I had a job interview. The woman couldn’t download my resume so on the way over I printed out a few copies at Kinko’s. I’ve looked over my resume so much lately I practically have it memorized.

I handed her a copy confident.  An internship for essentially nothing in a school.  I have an MA, I had this.  Small pay for lots of work, it was in the bag.  This is how Pierce feels shooting foul shots. This is how we used to feel watching the Celtics.

“You do realize you have misspelled writing on this?”

I had spelled it writging.  On my resume it said I have an MA in Writging with honors.

“So tell me more about this writing scholarship you received in undergrad?” she said in some disbelief

My face was tomato red. I’ve studied writing for years. I call myself a writer.  And there it was misspelled. A sheet of paper representing all my worth, and I had made a mistake one of her ten year-old students could have avoided.

This was the Celtics last night.  They called themselves champions.  People have been saying they didn’t have the same depth, KG was out.  Powe was out. But lets give them some credit.  Even with all of the injuries, last night was not a fair representation of their team.  Tired, injured, I don’t care. They were not the champions we know.  They got lost in the page last night.  Howard challenged them and they blushed. 

Perkins looked straight out terrified.  Pierce couldn’t sink a foul shot; in fact he could barely draw a foul.  House forgot how to through threes. Rondo decided he was over lay-ups. 

It’s just a shame their typo came game seven.  We all have these days.  We just aren’t millionaires regardless.  But they did give us the championship last year so maybe we should give them a break. With the Bs and Celts out and summer on its way, at least we can get our priorities straight.

I’m talking about something far more important than job hunting, I’m talking baseball. Finally we can all talk baseball again.

The New Red Sox

Remember watching the Sox before 2004? You watched spring season games like August games.  Watching games anywhere outside of what is now the nation, you’d realize no was watching the game, rather they were watching you watch the game. Red Sox fans were bizarre specimens ESPN tried to explain to the rest of the county. People thought we were anything but sane. Well, except for those poor people in Chicago.

Now we have two rings and enough bandwagon fans to tip the state over.  We even have other people resenting us for our constant success and payroll. A little scary, and yes, a little awesome.

Watching the Bruins is a little awesome and a lot scary.  Watching game six a man came up to me to tell me to sports weren’t everything. He said I was shaking.  I agreed sports aren’t everything, but in a do or die situation like this one, I preferred he not distract me.

I almost forgot the feeling of a sports hangover.  The adrenaline I’ve had the whole season thinking about what could be now a lagging headache.  The last time I felt this bad was the fall of 2003.  And after that we had to brave a winter. At least after Bruins heartbreak its becoming beach weather.  And still the Bs did what some thought was impossible this year. They inched hockey back into this city.  Bars started playing games again.  You weren’t the only one wearing a Thomas jersey this week.  Hockey notes weren’t just something taking precious writing space away from baseball in the Globe.

Think about where this team was a year ago. They were a footnote. Now think about where they can go in a year.  And if all that isn’t enough to get you out of bed after that sucker-punching pansy of all people had us eliminated, think of this: maybe this means another year of affordable tickets. Remember the spring after Grady Little? This year we wanted it bad.  Next year we need it bad.