On the day of the eve of what could be a historic night before tomorrow, I have a few thoughts and ramblings to share.
1. I still believe in Baseball Jesus. As much now as ever before. He has been my beacon of hope since game 1 of the yanks series when He showed me that it's about the team, and not just Schilling. (Schilling getting creamed game 1 was my fault; I was pulling for him, not the team. I have since corrected that, obviously.)
2. You can grow to love a new hat. No, she's not like my first, but she's 3-0, and she's mine.
3. I feel badly for St. Louis fans, especially Abbypilot and New Character. No, I am being smug at all; my statement has NOTHING to do with tonight. Rather, it's a display of sadness that Cardinals fans haven't to this point gotten what they deserve; you guys won 105 games, and went 6-0 in the postseason before the idiot bus stopped in your stadium. I really am sorry for you fans. I still hope you lose, but I feel for you.
4. Tonight, there is to be a lunar eclipse that is reportedly going to turn the moon red for a spell. We HAVE to win tonight; the world is with us, hell, even the moon is looking out for us.
5. It is 18 years ago today that the ball passed through the legs. Like we've said before, let's get all the friggin' shackles off in one year. And hopefully on the same day.
6. I love my friends, I love my life. But for tonight, there is nowhere on God's green earth I would rather be than at Abbotts, sitting with K, Rosco, The Silver FOx, Heather, Chuck, Magnum P.E.I., Chef Mike, Sonny, Siobhan, Snuggles, Cass, Jim, my Bro, Kirk, and countless Sox fans drinking the best beer $2.25 can buy, and waiting for that final pitch, that last moment, the ending SNAP of the ball hitting the glove (oh, by the way I am convinced the World Series this year will end with a K. Don't ask why or who, but I believe.) I miss you guys, never more so than now. But I hold my head high, and prepare to celebrate with Johnny, Proctor, SoCo, Lipstick Mike, the Bertrands, K-Swick, Abbypilot, the Euros, Josh the mosh, BDB, Ronan, Timmy, Heather, D&Z, and myriad people that are backing the Sox largely because I am. Thanks, guys.
7. Weird fact in case you missed it: The Celtics won their first championship against St. Louis (1957); the Bruins broke a 41-year Stanley Cup drought against St. Louis (1970); and the Patriots won their first Super Bowl against St. Louis (2002).
8. I hope they win it for my parents. My dad gets SO pissed at them for all their foibles. My mom gets pissed because the Sox take away from the Patriots news. Enjoy, Mom & Dad.
9. Fuck the Yankees.
10. I propose nicknaming A-Rod and Jeter "Slappy" and "Short-Rod." More fitting, I think.
11. God, I hope we re-sign Varitek.
12. No matter what happens tonight, the Red Sox have earned every one of my tears, laughs, vomit sprees, and clenched fists. Great season guys, thanks. Now go kick some ass.
13. I'm running out of reasons now to leave work early and get this party started....
You know what?
Bye.
(My predicition: Sox 7-Cardinals 3)
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Saturday, October 23, 2004
Only a few hours more...
Sigh.
There is a delicate balance of power, influence, karma, and luck floating out there. Sometimes you are fortunate enough to have one or more of these elements swing in your favor. Other times, not so much as they move away from you. Ultimately, I believe, you break pretty much even, like in chance. For the brave and stupid, there are times where you try to evoke an element, or even (gulp) several. Brave and stupid indeed.
So, here I go at it. As you may recall, my precious BoSox hat was stolen by a cute Serbian chick. She even convinced me she had lost it. While I sat there, mumbling and almost weeping (the damn hat and I go back 10 years), it was divulged to me the hat is fine, resting comfortably and in good spirits while this ordeal perserveres. My tears of suffering turned to tears of happiness as I envisioned the streets of Annapolis running red with her blood. As I lept into action, I halted; the Sox are 4-0 with the hat in her possession. I can't break that. So, I have remained quiet, in the hopes the hat will stay exactly where it is. But I can't NOT wear anything Sox. That's just wrong. And my jersey has some weird vibes coming off it.
So I did the unthinkable. I went on the element-evoking offensive.
I bought a new hat.
It's cool. It's fitted, dark blue with a blue and white "B" on the front, and blue and white socks on the back. It similar to my old one, but not exact. There can only ever be one favorite hat in one's life.
I know it is a ballsy move, but I'll have you know I consulted with another member of Red Sox Nation. Thanks, Silver Fox, for giving me the go-ahead.
I've also changed my regimen. You may recall it was Dokken pre-game, no hat, and Raspberry Wheat. Well, I figure I have no right expecting more than the greatest comeback in sports history from that combination, so I changed it. And I'm kicking it up a notch by going alta-schula.
D.L.R.-era Van Halen pre-game, new hat with dark, angry colors, and bourbon (to be relieved only after having a sufficient amount. And then, the only acceptable substitute is Sox Nation's most stalwart ally, High Life.
Yeah, it's going to be messy, and some may not survive. But I'm ready to do what it takes.
I am the ruler of these nether worlds
The underground
On every wall and place my fearsome name is heard
Look around, whoa yeah
Nobody rules these streets at night like me,
nobody
The atomic punk.
Let's kick ass, boys.
Foxxe, man your positions. It's on.
World Fuckin' Serious.
There is a delicate balance of power, influence, karma, and luck floating out there. Sometimes you are fortunate enough to have one or more of these elements swing in your favor. Other times, not so much as they move away from you. Ultimately, I believe, you break pretty much even, like in chance. For the brave and stupid, there are times where you try to evoke an element, or even (gulp) several. Brave and stupid indeed.
So, here I go at it. As you may recall, my precious BoSox hat was stolen by a cute Serbian chick. She even convinced me she had lost it. While I sat there, mumbling and almost weeping (the damn hat and I go back 10 years), it was divulged to me the hat is fine, resting comfortably and in good spirits while this ordeal perserveres. My tears of suffering turned to tears of happiness as I envisioned the streets of Annapolis running red with her blood. As I lept into action, I halted; the Sox are 4-0 with the hat in her possession. I can't break that. So, I have remained quiet, in the hopes the hat will stay exactly where it is. But I can't NOT wear anything Sox. That's just wrong. And my jersey has some weird vibes coming off it.
So I did the unthinkable. I went on the element-evoking offensive.
I bought a new hat.
It's cool. It's fitted, dark blue with a blue and white "B" on the front, and blue and white socks on the back. It similar to my old one, but not exact. There can only ever be one favorite hat in one's life.
I know it is a ballsy move, but I'll have you know I consulted with another member of Red Sox Nation. Thanks, Silver Fox, for giving me the go-ahead.
I've also changed my regimen. You may recall it was Dokken pre-game, no hat, and Raspberry Wheat. Well, I figure I have no right expecting more than the greatest comeback in sports history from that combination, so I changed it. And I'm kicking it up a notch by going alta-schula.
D.L.R.-era Van Halen pre-game, new hat with dark, angry colors, and bourbon (to be relieved only after having a sufficient amount. And then, the only acceptable substitute is Sox Nation's most stalwart ally, High Life.
Yeah, it's going to be messy, and some may not survive. But I'm ready to do what it takes.
I am the ruler of these nether worlds
The underground
On every wall and place my fearsome name is heard
Look around, whoa yeah
Nobody rules these streets at night like me,
nobody
The atomic punk.
Let's kick ass, boys.
Foxxe, man your positions. It's on.
World Fuckin' Serious.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Baseball, Jesus!
The aftermath.
Sheesh, it's amazing. The World Series, for me, cannot possibly top what we've just been through. And yet, three days from now we enter the breach again.
Some random thoughts...
1. I can't decide who I would rather see in the WS. Houston has Clemens, St. Louis has 1946. Either way, f*ck the Yankees.
2. Some quotes from around the horn..
"They played better than us. That's basically it. You can come up with this or that, but the bottom line is that they beat us." - Short-Rod (Derek Jeter)
"Now they'll go back to the drawing board with next year in mind and a newfound hunger in their collective belly. Losing in the World Series to the best team in the other league is one thing -- failing four times in a row to dispatch their bitter rival is quite another. It will stick in their craw for the entire winter, even if they pretend that it doesn't matter. "
-www.newyorkyankees.com
"I said, 'Don't let us win Game 4.' If we win Game 4, that gets us to Pedro Martinez, and then that would get us to Curt Schilling." -Kevin Millar
3. Here's the secret: Josh had Smithwick's all night, didn't smoke, and ate H-to-da-arry Browne's buffalo wings only. Me, I had no Red Sox hat on, listened to Dokken, and drank Raspberry Wheat beer. What's your talisman?
4. I gotta figure out travel plans today or tomorrow. Boy, my mom's gonna be pissed when she finds out I can't come home for Thanksgiving because I'm coming home for the WS.
5. We the people (that is, the Annapolis chapter of Red Sox Nation), made a valiant effort to help break the c-word. At Harry Browne's there was an auction last night of Sox/Ball Lickers memorabilia. The only thing we could afford was a baseball signed by Don Zimmer.
Our plan was simple; bid on the ball, win it, take it out on the street during the seventh inning stretch, burn it, and urinate on it to put out the charred remains. (Boy, beer does that to you, huh?)
We made the bid, but at the last second a bastard outbid us (literally at the last second.) Well, we must of looked really upset, because the winner approached us looking bothered and said,
"You can have the ball if you want. I didn't realize how important it was to you. Why do you want it so bad?"
My compadre Josh began making some story up, but Captain Adam Beer Pants decided to give him the abridged version.
"We want to take the ball outside, burn it in the street, and then piss on it. Go Sox."
To which he replied,
"No, seriously. Why do you want it?"
"We want to take the ball outside, burn it in the street, and then piss on it. Go Sox."
He says,
"But, I'm from New York."
I say,
"Well, then. How about this. You can hold the ball while we're doing it."
Needless to say, we didn't get the ball.
Go Sox. Go.
Sheesh, it's amazing. The World Series, for me, cannot possibly top what we've just been through. And yet, three days from now we enter the breach again.
Some random thoughts...
1. I can't decide who I would rather see in the WS. Houston has Clemens, St. Louis has 1946. Either way, f*ck the Yankees.
2. Some quotes from around the horn..
"They played better than us. That's basically it. You can come up with this or that, but the bottom line is that they beat us." - Short-Rod (Derek Jeter)
"Now they'll go back to the drawing board with next year in mind and a newfound hunger in their collective belly. Losing in the World Series to the best team in the other league is one thing -- failing four times in a row to dispatch their bitter rival is quite another. It will stick in their craw for the entire winter, even if they pretend that it doesn't matter. "
-www.newyorkyankees.com
"I said, 'Don't let us win Game 4.' If we win Game 4, that gets us to Pedro Martinez, and then that would get us to Curt Schilling." -Kevin Millar
3. Here's the secret: Josh had Smithwick's all night, didn't smoke, and ate H-to-da-arry Browne's buffalo wings only. Me, I had no Red Sox hat on, listened to Dokken, and drank Raspberry Wheat beer. What's your talisman?
4. I gotta figure out travel plans today or tomorrow. Boy, my mom's gonna be pissed when she finds out I can't come home for Thanksgiving because I'm coming home for the WS.
5. We the people (that is, the Annapolis chapter of Red Sox Nation), made a valiant effort to help break the c-word. At Harry Browne's there was an auction last night of Sox/Ball Lickers memorabilia. The only thing we could afford was a baseball signed by Don Zimmer.
Our plan was simple; bid on the ball, win it, take it out on the street during the seventh inning stretch, burn it, and urinate on it to put out the charred remains. (Boy, beer does that to you, huh?)
We made the bid, but at the last second a bastard outbid us (literally at the last second.) Well, we must of looked really upset, because the winner approached us looking bothered and said,
"You can have the ball if you want. I didn't realize how important it was to you. Why do you want it so bad?"
My compadre Josh began making some story up, but Captain Adam Beer Pants decided to give him the abridged version.
"We want to take the ball outside, burn it in the street, and then piss on it. Go Sox."
To which he replied,
"No, seriously. Why do you want it?"
"We want to take the ball outside, burn it in the street, and then piss on it. Go Sox."
He says,
"But, I'm from New York."
I say,
"Well, then. How about this. You can hold the ball while we're doing it."
Needless to say, we didn't get the ball.
Go Sox. Go.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
69 and feelin' with my hands...
Ok, monkeys. I am all but freaking out here. The past five days have been draining, to say the least; but they have also been invigorating. Here are some lessons learned.
1. There IS a baseball Jesus. There is. You can doubt his existence, you can question him, you can even try to deny his mercy. But he exists. Just ask me. Or The Silver Fox. Or anyone at Castlebay.
2. Curt Schilling has launched himself into the pantheon of Boston sports legacies. Everyone knows about "das boot", but does anyone realize he wasn't wearing the friggin' thing last night??? It was applying too much pressure on his foot. He pitched seven innings with his fucking ankle tendon sutured to his bone. His BONE!!! Did you watch him between innings? He was in excrutiating pain. But he perservered. His name now resides (in my mind) right next to the names Larry, Bobby, Yaz, Teddy, and Bill. Thank you, Curt.
3. A new hymn.
Be not afraid
I go before you always
Come, follow me
And I shall give you runs
I love you baseball Jesus. Please forgive those who may have doubted.
4. A cute Euro chick stole my Red Sox hat a few days ago. Yes, it is true I have had that had for approximately ten years. Yes, it is true that I value that hat as one of my most prized posessions. But it is also true the Sox are 3-0 when I don't wear the hat. At this point, she can almost keep it. I can get another one while I am buying an authentic Schilling jersey the nest time I'm home.
5. I noticed the CD in my car over the last few days is Dokken's Greatest Hits. Hmmmm. Three days listening to Dokken, three Sox victories. Could it be coincidence? Who gives a shit. I don't have my hat, I'm listening to Dokken tonight on the way home, and I plan on drinking my fair share of High Life while simulcasting the game with Red Sox Nation back at Bad Abbotts. After all, the Annapolis chapter of Sox Nation has important work to do.
Go Sox. F*ck the yanks. Listen to Dokken. Have kinky circus monkey sex with a loved one.
It's all good, baby.
And the rockstar sayeth,
Bring it on.
(b.t.w. the '69' reference is to the fact this is my 69th entry.)
1. There IS a baseball Jesus. There is. You can doubt his existence, you can question him, you can even try to deny his mercy. But he exists. Just ask me. Or The Silver Fox. Or anyone at Castlebay.
2. Curt Schilling has launched himself into the pantheon of Boston sports legacies. Everyone knows about "das boot", but does anyone realize he wasn't wearing the friggin' thing last night??? It was applying too much pressure on his foot. He pitched seven innings with his fucking ankle tendon sutured to his bone. His BONE!!! Did you watch him between innings? He was in excrutiating pain. But he perservered. His name now resides (in my mind) right next to the names Larry, Bobby, Yaz, Teddy, and Bill. Thank you, Curt.
3. A new hymn.
Be not afraid
I go before you always
Come, follow me
And I shall give you runs
I love you baseball Jesus. Please forgive those who may have doubted.
4. A cute Euro chick stole my Red Sox hat a few days ago. Yes, it is true I have had that had for approximately ten years. Yes, it is true that I value that hat as one of my most prized posessions. But it is also true the Sox are 3-0 when I don't wear the hat. At this point, she can almost keep it. I can get another one while I am buying an authentic Schilling jersey the nest time I'm home.
5. I noticed the CD in my car over the last few days is Dokken's Greatest Hits. Hmmmm. Three days listening to Dokken, three Sox victories. Could it be coincidence? Who gives a shit. I don't have my hat, I'm listening to Dokken tonight on the way home, and I plan on drinking my fair share of High Life while simulcasting the game with Red Sox Nation back at Bad Abbotts. After all, the Annapolis chapter of Sox Nation has important work to do.
Go Sox. F*ck the yanks. Listen to Dokken. Have kinky circus monkey sex with a loved one.
It's all good, baby.
And the rockstar sayeth,
Bring it on.
(b.t.w. the '69' reference is to the fact this is my 69th entry.)
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
I believe...and I cry
Tonight I was subject to one of the most disheartening experiences I've ever had. It's not abnormal, mind you. In fact, it's totally understandable. Tonight, the Silver Fox lost faith. Truth be known, we all did at one point or another. I mean, Schilling giving up 6 runs in 3 innings is enough to make any one soul weep. Hell, I cried a bit. But, if there's one immutable thing I've learned, it's that Baseball Jesus loves us, and will come through.
I believe in Baseball Jesus.
Say it with me.
I believe in Baseball Jesus.
I totally understand in a temporary lapse of faith. I can understand it. Totally.
Personally, i have suffered at the hands of baseball as much as anyone.
And tonight, when The Silver Fox weakened, I almost faltered with him.
but I have faith. Enough for two.
Go Sox, go.
Tomorrow night, Pedro.
And I FULLY expect The Silver Fox to march along side me.
He is my best friend, and I believe in him.
As much as Baseball Jesus.
I believe in Baseball Jesus.
Say it with me.
I believe in Baseball Jesus.
I totally understand in a temporary lapse of faith. I can understand it. Totally.
Personally, i have suffered at the hands of baseball as much as anyone.
And tonight, when The Silver Fox weakened, I almost faltered with him.
but I have faith. Enough for two.
Go Sox, go.
Tomorrow night, Pedro.
And I FULLY expect The Silver Fox to march along side me.
He is my best friend, and I believe in him.
As much as Baseball Jesus.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)