Good news: Byung Hyun Kim was (finally) traded to the Rockies for a bag of batting practice balls and a 1956 set of the Encyclopedia Britannica.
Bad news: Anastacio Martinez has been designated for assignment. Well, shit.
Two more days.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Good news: Byung Hyun Kim was (finally) traded to the Rockies for a bag of batting practice balls and a 1956 set of the Encyclopedia Britannica.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Just when I thought it was safe to go back….
After the first Sox/Yanks spring training game I thought it was over. Sox lost, Yanks won, but I was genuinely surprised to find out that I didn’t care. In 2004, when the Sox lost to the Yankees in a harmless spring training game – I’ll admit it, I was pissed. Not as pissed as I was when, say, the Sox got swept by the Yankees in July, but I still had this hard, indigestible little lump of hatred inside me that absolutely loathed seeing the Yankees enjoying even a modicum of success at my team’s expense. Fast forward through a miracle season which climaxed in the Boston Red Sox publicly humiliating the New York Yankees by being the only team in baseball history to come back from an 0-3 deficit in a seven-game series and I’m sittin’ pretty. So in 2005 the Sox lose a harmless little spring training game to the Yankees – big fuckin’ deal. “The New York Who? Oh, those guys that my guys pounded into the dirt last season, ya, I remember them.” I was ready to put it to bed. I thought at first that Johnny Damon’s grand slam in Game 7 had washed away all the bitterness and hatred and that I – and every other Red Sox fan – had finally been vindicated. The Red Sox can, in fact, beat the New York Yankees on occasion – even when it matters! – and now I can go on with my merry little baseball life.
And then I watch yesterday’s game. A game which, ironically, the Red Sox won. And literally within ten minutes of the start of the game the hatred was back. I hate the Yankees. Unequivocally. To a man. Hate. If I’m in a good mood I’ll admit that I like to watch Mike Mussina pitch. But other than that I just hate that fucking team, plain and simple. What triggered this assumed-to-be-forgotten conditioned response, you may be asking. Two words for you: Michael Kay.
I’m not even sure if I spelled that asshole’s name right. He pretty much exemplifies everything that I absolutely hate about the Yankees as an organization, a team and a fan base: know-it-all, arrogant, self-righteous fuck-faces who, when they have absolutely nothing else to fall back on, will just endlessly masturbate themselves to thoughts of former glory. Michael Kay is one of the most self-congratulatory, biased, shamelessly homer-istic announcers in professional sports and I hope he has a miserable fucking personal life. It’s the little things: One minute into the game, the cameras are panning around “Legends Field” – even the fucking name of their spring training park is fucking nauseating – and Mr. K, in awed, hushed tones, says: “Every…seat…completely…filled.” Ya, real impressive, asshole – you sold out a fucking spring training game. Why don’t you concentrate on selling out that big ol’ stadium up north every once in awhile. If Remy and Orsillo were to convey the same information to Sox fans it would be something like “…and the Sox take on the Yankees in a sold out game here at City of Palms Park.” But not Michael Kay, oh no.
I swear to god the game has only been on for five minutes before these buffoons start talking about “class.” How Classy all the Yankees are and how UnClassy and Idiotic the Sox are. How A-Rod is the best player in baseball and how that makes him a target because he’s better than everyone else and gets paid more than everyone else, and how the Yankees as an organization become a target because of who they are and the success they always enjoy and about how they build a team to win a championship every year instead of other teams who just get lucky after 86 years of “angst.” Then comes the Yankee’s half of the inning. Derek Jeter gets a hit on the first pitch from John Halama, and right away Michael Kay starts in on how bad it must be as a pitcher to see your first pitch driven into center field and yadda-yadda-yadda when I distinctly remember Mark Bellhorn driving the Yankees’ pitcher’s second pitch into nearly the exact same area of the field. Unfortunately I was unable to continue to watch this game and turned my attention instead to Baseball Tonight and a totally weird tutorial by John Kruck, Gammo and Harold “I Suck Yankee Cock” Reynolds on how to steal second base with a lefty on the mound.
Fuck the Yankees. Fuck the YES network. Fuck Michael Kay. The hatred is back. The universe, I guess, is just the same as it ever was.
Oh, and by the way:
more days until Opening Night.
P.S. If you haven't watched the video on the Boston Globe's website entitled "Renteria Does Country" you simply have not lived. Please. Do yourself a favor and go watch it.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Monday, March 28, 2005
more days until opening night!
One day I will heed the advice of my fellow bloggers and save my posts on the ol' clipboard before trying to publish only to have Blogger erase my (sometimes) hard work with an internal error. But until then, I'm just going to sit around and curse at my computer for fucking me over once again. Some people just never learn. But, since I don't have the fucking patience to retype this entry, this is what you get. I will probably be writing a Prediction Post sometime soon, but other than that I wouldn't expect too much activity over here until Opening Day because I'm sort of busy with several projects in my personal life right now.
Anastacio Watch 2005: Anastacio is currently competing with our very own Byung Hyun Barfbag for the last bullpen start. Martinez has a 5.73 ERA in 10.1 innings. BK is just an outright fucking douchebag. The choice is just that easy.
P.S. I should put an addendum on this post and say that there is more bad blood between my computer and Blogger than there is between A-Fraud and Arroyo, cause Blogger doesn't ever want to publish a damn thing I write. Haters.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
I have to admit, I've been doing a shitty job keeping up with the world of baseball in general, and this blog in particular. I have virtually no idea of the goings on in the Major Leagues this past week or so, and I have only vague notions of how the Sox have been doing in their spring training games. I don't really know who has been cut and who hasn't, although I think that the Sox are now down to 31 players and that My Boy Anastacio still hasn't been sent down yet. My station partner saw footage of Curt Schilling pitching before I did. I haven't even been checking other blogs lately, or spring training photo galleries, or the Globe, or the Herald, or anything. I mean, what in the fuck have I been doing all week? Let me try and remember....
Nope. Nothing important or interesting. Some reading, some crossword puzzles, some CSI marathons on Spike TV. Sure, I watched a couple of spring training games when they were on MLB.com or ESPN, but....
Somehow I remember being more grateful for spring training last year. This year I'm just sort of like "yeah, yeah, yeah, let's cut the crap and get to the good stuff, shall we?" I've only noticed a few minor differences between '04 spring training and '05:
1. In 2005, I find myself looking at Tito with a genuine affection, like seeing a cool uncle, instead of distrust and hatred, like seeing a picture of a convicted child murderer.
2. Edgar Renteria. Me likey.
3. This year whenever I see Manny my thoughts are dirty as in "God, his hair looks fucking nasty," instead of dirty like "I wonder what he'd look like in a thong made of cotton candy."
4. Last year I was wondering whether David Ortiz could maintain his badassery from 2003. Now I'm just sort of starting to take it for granted. I mean, the playoffs last year? Fucking brilliant. Ortiz is certainly headed for baseball Valhalla.
5. Seeing Pedro cut up with another team's mascot/catcher/players/fans is like seeing an old girlfriend at a bar or a club somewhere when she doesn't see you and watching her do cute little things that you thought were just between you and her to other strange people.
6. I have done a complete and total 180 degree turn around from being like "Oh wow, I'm so excited that Curt Schilling is on the team, I want to read everything he has to say because he's so cool and he's going to be real good for the team" to telling my husband that if he buys a Curt Schilling jersey that I'll never wear it. For real.
So, um, ya, I'll offer up a lame apology for having a very shitty blog lately, and I'm glad that people still check it now and then because I suck. Believe me, this hurts me worse than it hurts you, and all those platitudes. Ten more days until Opening Night.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
A couple things about yesterday's spring training game:
1. Juan Perez sucks.
2. I heart Big Papi.
3. I just don't really miss Derek Lowe.
4. I'm not sure why, but I always find myself rooting for Anastacio Martinez's success. I can't figure it out. It's been this way for a couple years now. It's like I feel bad for him or something. Like whenever I see him get put into a game, I'm always like "Okay, give this kid a break for once." Usually whenever a mediocre relief pitcher (I'll be honest with myself, that's all Martinez is,) gets put into a game I'm thinking, "Oh great, here comes this incompetent motherfucker. I wonder how he'll manage to foul things up this time." But whenever Anastacio Martinez comes up I turn into Stuart fucking Smalley, like "Anastacio, you can do it, cause you're good enough, you're smart enough, and doggone-it, people like you!" In reality, however, I know that about the most useful thing Martinez could do would be to pick up a metal folding chair and beat the living shit out of Byung Hyun Kim, which has only vague connections with actually throwing a baseball. Wow. That thought gives me more satisfaction than it actually should. Think about the fucking damage Anastacio Martinez could deal down to BK! I'm getting giddy. Have I mentioned how much I hate Byung Hyun Kim lately? Cause I hate him. Hate his guts. I'd love to see him stuffed into a rusty metal garbage can and thrown down a long steel stairwell.
5. Have I mentioned yet how much I hate spring training games?
6. Pedroia looked good yesterday. Ortiz looked pretty much like I would if I tried to play first base in yesterday's game: fucked up.
7. Boy was that ESPN announcing piss-poor.
8. Twelve more days until Opening Day.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
This many days until Opening Day. I have been filling today's glum, cold, baseball-less day listening to a book-on-tape of "Lolita" read by Jeremy Irons. Sox are on ESPN tomorrow, but spring training...ugh...just no substitute for the real thing. I can't begin to describe the depths of my apathy concerning spring training games. I'm practically frothing at the mouth to get this fucking season started!
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Happy St. Patrick's Day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Erin go bragh and all that stuff! I will be wearing my Paul Pierce Celtics jersey today as it is the only green thing I own, but at least it is an appropriate green thing.
Right now I'm watching the Congressional steroid hearings. I am so. Fucking. Tired. of hearing about this whole mess that I hope they get it straightened out once and for all. I got into an arguement with someone about steroids last night which somehow denigrated into a yelling match about Pete Rose and whether or not he should be banned from baseball (always a touchy subject here in Cincinnati.) We also sat around and figured out the distance between first base and third base using the Pythagorean Theorum, and that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is why I love baseball. Think about all the great conversations baseball has given us throughout our lives! Whether it's baseball story time, like listening to my grandfather talk about Stan Musial and Bob Gibson, or just random, non-baseball chatter that occurs between my friends while we watch a game on television, talking about baseball and conversations during baseball are as much a part of the game as strike-outs and home runs.
Whether it's an arguement like whether or not Babe Ruth would be shit if he faced modern pitching, or Paulie calling me from Boston after the Sox won the '04 ALCS and holding his phone up so that I could hear the screaming people on the street; whether it's me nervously calling Beth from the runway at Newark airport to try to figure out if we were going to make it to Boston in time for Game 2 of the World Series or Jonathan trying to make me laugh during the tense moments of ALCS game 6 by doing his impersonation of Joe Buck's screams of agony as he is thrown down a flight of stairs; listening to chef - a Frenchman - talk about how boring and un-athletic the sport is; singing with Lacey all the way home from a Sox game in Cleveland to keep ourselves awake, making up baseball lyrics to old songs like "The Twelve Days of Manny." All of these great conversations baseball has given to me - up to and including this conversation we have together in the form of this blog!
What a great fucking sport!
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
I have absolutely NOTHING to blog about. I hate hate hate hate hate hate hate winter, and I hate hate hate hate hate Ohio in the winter - even more so than in the other three seasons of the year. I have decided that I'm wearing shorts on any given day from now on if I feel like it. I don't care if it's only 42 degrees outside. (My shorts only expose like three inches of my lower calf anyway because they're kinda droopy. Leann used to call them "shants," like "shorts" and "pants" combined, get it, get it??? hahahaha okay nevermind.) Anyhow, I have decided that I am wearing shorts and that it will be spring whether mother nature likes it or not, and if I look like a total retard wearing shorts, a hoodie and a stocking cap then I don't give a fuck. I HATE WINTER AND I HOPE IT fucking DIES.
But I love:
1. Feeling hot sun on my skin on a cloudless 85 degree day
2. Coming home from work and hearing Jerry Remy and Don Orsillo droning away on the TV in the living room
3. Turning the corner into the living room after work, drawn to Remy and Orsillo like a bum to a flaming garbage can, and seeing that the Sox are winning
4. Turning the corner into the living room and seeing that the Sox are winning by some ridiculous margin like 14-4
5. Watching Bugs Bunny cartoons, especially the one where Yosemite Sam rigs the piano up to explode when Bugs plays this little ditty, only Bugs never plays it right, so Sam, in frustration, shoves Bugs out of the way like "No, no, no, you stupid varmint! Like this!" and the piano explodes. I love that one! When I watch cartoons I laugh so much that my husband starts staring at me with this "I-Can't-Believe-I-Married-This-Woman" expression on his face. I can't help it - they're fucking funny. (This has nothing to do with summer but I still love it.)
6. Drinking a case of beer in the sunshine while shagging fly balls and coming up with stupid things to do like "Let's practice bunting today!"
7. Being slow at work and playing "Plastic Wrap & Cardboard Tube Homerun Derby"
8. Chilling on the fire escape. bonus: chilling on the fire escape when a friend drops by.
9. Having swamp-ass all day because work is so fucking hot and finally being able to go home and lay down on your stomach with your bottom bare and powdered up like a fucking baby with diaper rash. Trust me, it feels great. All hail cornstarch.
10. Having something to fucking blog about.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Surprise, surprise - the Sox lost a game to the Baltimore Orioles. Yawn.
We did call the cable company today and order the MLB Extra Innings package, however. Add that to the one-day reprieve we got from the snowy weather and I'm smelling spring in the air!
Sunday, March 13, 2005
If I were a star Major League baseball player:
1. I would have the sluttiest looking wife on the team who would dress like a trailer-trash prom queen at a roller rink birthday party and who would be shot full of more silicone than the entire region of Southern California. Not because that's my type of woman, but just because I could.
2. When I come up to bat they would play the song "Goodbye Horses" by Q.Lazzarus, which you may remember as the song from "Silence of the Lambs" during the pivotal Push-My-Cock-and-Balls-Back-Between-My-Legs scene, and to pump myself up for my at-bats I would look into the mirror in the dugout and scream at my reflection: "Would you fuck me?? I'd fuck me!! I'd fuck me so hard!!"
3. I would regularly beat the living shit out of the gatorade cooler, whether Mirabelli was sitting on it or not - ditto the bat rack and the post-game spread - even if I went 5-5 and hit for the cycle, in which case my destruction would be of a celebratory nature.
4. I would have a ridiculously gaudy sports utility vehicle filled with strippers, top-shelf vodka and pot smoke with television screens on the back of the headrests, spinner rims and a horn that played "La Cucaracha." I would have a huge mural of the Virgin Mary engulfed in an art-deco sort of wreathe of flames cradling a baby Jesus with my face superimposed on it painted on the roof and a chain-link license plate frame.
5. I would knock my wife up as often as possible and name every kid after myself.
6. My charity work would consist of allowing the kid in the hospital bed next to mine watch an hour of his choice in tv programming a day while I'm recuperating from minor injuries sustained in a drunk driving accident.
7. I would sign autographs only for women, and only on skin. I would sign the occassional man if I were drunk enough.
8. After a three-game series my hotel rooms would look like Keith Richards, Courtney Love and Jon Bonham's corpse threw a two-month cocaine orgy inside it, and I would sexually harass every member of the maid staff who walked within a thirty-foot radius of me.
9. I would spend plane trips farting in my sleep.
10. I would spend every single available milisecond of screen time I get adjusting my cup in some obscene, overly-elaborate ritual that would, at some point, involve me actually reaching into my pants while I am at a quarter squat and jiggling things around.
Oh ya, and the Red Sox lost 4-2 against the Twins today.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Okay, so bear in mind that "This Friend Of My Friend's Said That..." stories are sometimes urban legend, sometimes rumor, and almost always bullshit, but:
My very close friend Jonathan has a friend who plays for the Florence Freedom minor league baseball team. He's talked about this dude several times, about how good he used to be and yadda yadda yadda. Anyway, this guy is apparently on pretty decent terms with Cincinnati native Kevin Youkilis (this is the second person I know who knows Youkilis. The first person was a total drunk we all called "Danimal" who knew Youkilis from college, only this was like four years ago, before Youkilis was on the radar, so we didn't really care who "Danimal" knew.) So Jonathan's friend from the Florence Freedom [aliteration rules] said that Youkilis told him that Kevin Millar takes the worst smelling shits in the clubhouse. This is what Jonathan tells me today. He was all excited to be able to tell me this since he just hung out with this guy yesterday on his day off or some shit. He told me a couple other things about some other players, too, like how nice of a guy Ortiz is and how Manny doesn't just act like a silly stoner for no good reason - but some of those things I'm more skeptical about. Too sensational. But Kevin Millar's bowel movements?? Why would somebody lie about that? And more importantly, how in the fuck did this come up in conversation between Youkilis and the Florence Freedom dude, and why did the Florence Freedom dude think to tell this particular detail to my friend Jonathan?
Yet somehow, it fits. I bet Kevin Millar takes some hellacious shits.
By the way, this conversation came up because one of my idiotic co-workers was needling me about how come I was naive enough to not think that Ortiz was on steroids but Barry Bonds is. Jonathan jumped in and said how he was just talking to his friend who knows Kevin Youkilis, and Youk said that all he ever saw the Sox doing was working their asses off. So that's nice to know. Apocryphal in origin, yes, but it's what I want to believe so I'm going to go ahead and believe it.
And did you hear that "Mikey" from the Life Cereal commercials ate Pop Rocks and drank a Coke and died of an exploded stomach? It's true. A friend of a friend told me.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
I have something awful to admit: I don't really enjoy Spring Training games. Yes, it's nice to see the veterans back after a long winter's offseason. Yes, it's really cool to watch some of the up-and-coming prospects do their thing (Juan Cedeno and Hanley Ramírez come to mind.) But overall, it's just not that great. Okay, and it was cool to see Edgar Renteria in a Sox uni for the first time. But other than those three things, spring training games pretty much suck. Oh ya, and it was also great to hear Remy and Orsillo for the first time since early October. (As my blog partner Paulie so eloquently said in a voicemail: "They're like Harpies, and I'm throwing myself against the rocks.") So other than those four things, Spring Training games suck. I mean, I almost don't even bother finding out who won and who lost. My friend Jonathan at work was like "Did you know that one of the Reds has the highest batting average in the league right now?" I dropped my paring knife and gave him a withering stare. "Did you know that it's only March?? Do you know what kind of pitching he's facing? Talk to me in August." With the rare exception of Hanley Ramírez's triple play (which pretty much made me want to touch myself in baseball-geek ecstasy,) I have finally realized that I don't really give a crap about spring training. Is that wrong? Is it un-fan-like for me to still be sitting here with my chin in the palm of my hand, staring glumly into nowhere, pining away for April 3rd? Mike and I have long talked about going down to Florida some year for Spring Training, but actually, I don't think I want to. For one, I'm not an autograph hound, nor am I one of those people who feel the need to talk to/touch/be around celebrities. What am I gonna say to these people that they haven't heard a million times already? "Hey, [insert geeky snort-laugh here] I really like the baseball team you play on, [snort-snort] you guys are like, so cool, [snort-sniffle.]" I mean, for real. I'd rather just leave those people alone. They get harassed enough. For a second thing, I hate - no, loathe - the state of Florida. For a third thing, Spring Training is, overall, pretty lame.
If I were a real baseball blogger, I would be using this month to talk about how the players who are trying out for the team are doing, how I think Tito should set the lineup, how annoyed I was watching Mark Bellhorn strike out three fucking times against the Yankees the other day. But, what can I say - I'm a hack.
In other news, it appears that Curt Schilling will probably not be ready for Opening Day after all. A bout of the flu is further impeding Schilling's progress, and therefore the possibility of David Wells being our Opening Day pitcher looms larger and larger (pardon the pun.) Personally, I think this is a good thing. If Schilling's overactive ego had led him to make the Opening Day start and to be injured come October I would have been a very unhappy camper. And, since Schilling is sick in bed, he won't be giving any interviews any time soon - bonus!
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Sox lose first Spring Training game against the Yankees and I lose three days worth of baseball news.
I just wrote a big, long post to go with this picture and fucking Blogger had an "Internal Service Error" and erased it!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGH!
Okay, I am now supremely pissed. Things like this are capable of ruining my entire day. Fuck you Blogger you fucking ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Maybe it will show up in my email or something.....goddamn stupid motherfucking internet.
In lieu of the other, better post that I wrote today, I will tell you about this dream I had the other night which has finally made me realize what a hopeless dork I am and always will be: So I'm living on the cul-de-sac from Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, the one underneath the highway overpass where the Johnson House is. And I've just gotten this motorized ten-speed bike that I'm riding up and down the street, and it's summer and I'm all happy and content. When I go back home, my parents (with whom I'm still living in my dream) have gone out on an errand and I'm all alone, so I start watching cartoons in the living room. There is a knock on the door. I open the door, and there stands Manny Ramírez, whom I recognize to be a friend of the family. I let him in, and we sit on the living room floor together and watch some cartoons. Then Manny gets up and says, "I'm kinda tired, I'm going to go take a nap." He walks down the hall and goes into a bedroom and lays down. I follow him.
Okay, ladies and gentleman: Here it is! Sarah finally has had a dream in which she has Manny Ramírez laying prone on a bed - a dream in which anything Sarah can imagine can happen - anything in the world - and what do I do in my dream? What do I do when I walk into the bedroom and find Manny Ramírez laying on my bed? I yell: "Hey, let's wrassle!" and I run, jump, and try to land an Atomic Elbow on him.
Let's Wrassle. That's what I say. And then I try to drop an elbow.
Folks, this is why I'm the biggest loser of all times. I always say that in my head I still feel like a nine-year old, and now here is concrete evidence. At least my husband can be proud because I am faithful to him even in my dreams! ::smooch for Mike::
Saturday, March 05, 2005
My blog partner Paul and I were up at the ass-crack of dawn this morning and spent a lovely 45 minutes on the phone together while we hung out in the Cardinals "waiting room." We managed to score tickets to all three Sox/Cardinals games in June. If anyone out there is going to these games, let me know - maybe we can hook up somewhere. We're also going to a game in Detroit on May 2nd, and Mike and I will be attending at least one game in Cleveland near the end of June. So please feel free to drop me a line either here on this blog or via e-mail (firstname.lastname@example.org) if you're going to any of these games and want to tailgate or something.
I'll be away from my computer all weekend, so I probably won't be posting until Tuesday. Until then, as Woody Guthrie said: "Take it easy but take it."
Friday, March 04, 2005
Sox start Grapefruit League games with a 4-3 win over the Minnesota Twins.
Matt Clement pitched the first two innings of the game, giving up one run in the first but settling down in the second. Clement chalked the rocky first inning up to simple nerves after not having pitched a game in about 6 months, and also came fairly close to gushing about how much he was going to love working with Jason Varitek. "He's everything everybody said he was." Of course he is - why do you think he's got that C on his chest?? The Sox will be playing split squad games today against BC and Northeastern Universities.
The Red Sox gave one-year contracts to several players yesterday, locking up the entire 40-man roster. Among them were Abe Alvarez, Juan Cedeno, Manny Delcarmen, Mark Malaska, Anastacio Martinez, Luis Mendoza, Anibal Sanchez, Chris Smith, Kelly Shoppach, Hanley Ramirez, Kevin Youkilis, Adam Hyzdu and Adam Stern. Adam Stern is a Rule 5 pick whom the Sox are looking at as a potential replacement for Dave Roberts on the bench. It's nice to see the club getting a teeny-tiny bit younger.
Here's a nice, cuddly, fuzzy piece about Kevin Millar. Millar threatened to go sleep with upstairs neighbor Mark Bellhorn if his pregnant wife was going too crazy to allow him to sleep the night before the home opener.
And, if his willpower stays strong, we may never have to see the disgusting spectacle that is Terry Francona's tobacco chewing habit ever again. The man has quit at the request of his children, and so far, so good. Tito said he would have to see how he felt once the real games start and someone throws the eighth ball of the inning, but since Bobby Jones is no longer with the team I can't see how that will be a problem.
And finally, the New York Daily News had a piece today on the Red Sox's success against Yankees closer Mariano Rivera. Of the 14 blown saves credited to Rivera, 5 were against the Red Sox, whereas no other team in baseball has come back against Rivera more than once. The author speculated that no one on the Sox wanted to talk about it for fear of breaking the spell, but I don't think there is anything magical about their success. When you have a lineup that is as good as Boston's, who have faced Rivera as many times as they have, there is bound to be some eventual success. One thing the article didn't touch on was the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Mo was slowing down a fraction as well. He's no spring chicken.
Well, it was nice to hear Jerry Remy's voice for the first time this year, even if it was only the last three minutes of the game I got to watch. Just makes me all the more excited for April 3rd!
Thursday, March 03, 2005
There are so many Sox blogs out there that I feel guilty that I don't really have time to read them all. I'm continually finding new ones that are interesting and well-written and whom I mean to put on my list of links over there on the left, but then I forget the URL and don't remember how to find it again and I somehow never get around to it because I suck. I plan on changing that.
But there are some blogs that I read every day, and because I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy today I want to give some props to some blogs I love, in no particular order:
1) Joy of Sox - This was the first Sox blog I ever read. Alan does an awesome job keeping up on Sox news, always coming up with tons of great links. I sort of miss the political commentary he used to do, since it was virtually my only current events source, but I still love him. One day, after we move to Boston (probably in August), I will find Alan and buy him a beer, cause doggonit, he deserves one.
2) Cursed to First - Aside from being the most talented writer in the Sox blogosphere (in my humble opinion,) Beth is a super cool chick to talk on the phone to. Her blog is always well thought out, and reading her descriptions of games wants me to quit blogging altogether since all I usually do is string a bunch of curse words together. Beth rocks. She, too, will get a beer one day.
3) East Coast Agony - Though not always the most regular poster in the world, BigK always makes it worth the wait. He almost always makes me laugh out loud at least once per post. And his blogging partner is a Mets fan, so it's always fun to read his posts about how horribly the shit is hitting the fan up in Queens. Can't wait to see how that Pedro thing pans out for him.
I have to go to work so the rest of this post must wait.