Tuesday, October 19, 2004

No More Skee-Ball, It's Roller Coaster Time

I've had a crazy couple of weeks here. My blog is back, fortunately. The colors are all messed up, but I never worried about that anyway.

I'm still thinkin' Steinbrenner sabotaged me.

I was really psyched that all of you were coming here, and then the damn blog disappears. Hopefully, you've all come back. Remember, it wasn't my fault.

So what wonderful things have you missed in the last few days? Well, of the three games at Fenway, guess which one I went to? That's right, 19-8. By the end of that game, sitting in those bleachers, I was thinking about how my throat, blog, car and heart were all in horrible shape. But still, I kept saying, "The yanks are wasting all their runs for the rest of the series." Was I believing myself? I don't know. Down three-zip, I don't know if anyone thought we had a chance. Those bleachers were so empty and quiet by the ninth inning, all we heard was the thumping bass from Avalon, across Lansdowne Street. I'm sure the outfielders could hear it, too. They were probably wondering what the hell was going on. We also ended up moving down lower and were a few feet away from those two blondes from that Red Sox Movie. The shorter, chubbier one was yelling "Let's go Trot, come on Seven!" as Trot batted in the ninth, needing an eleven-run homer to tie things up.

Yeah, that was a rough one. But at least we got to do the "Ke-vin" chant at Brown, as he crapped the bed. I'm trying to think of any thing else that was good from that night...um...nope. But we did see the following celebrities: Jim Leyritz. I said "Leyritz!" He said, "Hey," as he led his prize girlfriend into the park. My buddy Pat was imitating Leyritz talking to her. "I told you to stay at your seat and keep your mouth shut!" She really did look like she didn't want to be there, and like she was recently purchased. We also saw the Fox NFL crew by their rather shoddy-looking trailer. And we saw some New York sports anchors for the network news stations. Oh, and I figured out the name of the guy who sits right behind the plate at Fenway every game: Charles Drinkwater. I noticed last night that the usually subdued Drinkwater finally stood up a few times in extra innings, and once making the "my heart's pounding" gesture. Then tonight, he was up almost the whole game. I guess normally he figures he doesn't need to stand since he's in the front row. Drinkwater. That name cracks me up.

But now, me and the Sox are back!

Two key wins!


Ortiz! Two nights in a row!

Great job by (almost) everybody.

Let's talk Fox. Okay, Jeanie Zelasko was layin' it on a little thick tonight with the whole "the Red Sox have definitely lost already" thing in the pregame tonight. And Tim McCarver continues to screw up inning-ly. Those guys still think that ground rule double hit the top of the wall when the super slo-mo showed us a million times that it didn't. Enough about Fox, you know they're terrible. Tonight was supposed to be a night where I could get stuff done, like write about Fox, but the game went 6 hours and I already need to sleep, so I can't write any more about them. But maybe more will come up.

But about Jeter--he was on his cheap-ass game tonight! The three run double, my god, it was the shortest three run double in history. His classic bloop to right. And the third runner was tagged out, despite McCarver telling us he was safe. The error was great. An easy play. I thought, They can't tell us it wasn't his fault this time! Not on that ball! I was like Quint in Jaws when he got the third barrel on Jaws: "Not with three barrels he can't, not with threeee!" But like Jaws, McCarver came through, with: "The ball hit the grass and the spin changed."(said in whiny McCarver voice.) Ugh. Then there was a bloop he hit that was caught, which McCarver called a line drive. And finaly, more classic Cheater when he sold the call on the Ortiz stolen base attempt. That made me very angry. I was thinking of what I should write on my T-shirt for tomorrow at that point. I came up with something about Jeter and a plane crash, but it was too wordy.

That's what these last two extra inning games have been like. Back and forth between, "What can I write on my shirt for tomorrow that won't get me fired from work?" and "Which Red Sox shirt should I wear tomorrow?" Man, this is crazy. I feel crazy, and I haven't even taken my Dimetapp Grape for Kids yet. We are looking good in this freakin' series!

Did Fox plant those people at Fenway in Game 4--the guy with the bag over his head that said "Who's my daddy?", and the guy with the "I can't believe I fell for it...again" sign? We were down by ONE run when they showed those guys. You put a bag over your head when your team's in last place, not when they're in the playoffs. I hope people yelled at those guys. By the way, great job with "Who's Your Dealer?" tonight!
Speaking of Sheffield, all year I've been waiting for him to cost his team a game because he can'put that left arm above his head. And these last few games he's really missed some he could've gotten to. Like the ground rule double tonight. He could've reached up and caught it, I think. But his arm just can't go up there. Not very valuable if you ask me. And Bernie Williams on the last play of the game--why did he slow up?

It's pouring right now, about an hour north of yankee Stadium, and it's supposed to rain all day tomorrow. That would be key.

God, I hate the yankees. You should hear how people are runnin' their mouths around here--from your average "I just jump on the bndwagon at the end of the year" dolts on the street, to the ignorant New York news reporters who are just tickled to be in the same city as the yanks. Go yanks! Yeah! Score another goal! Tomorrow the tone should be a little different, now that they're scared again (or should I say "a-scared", so yankee fans know what I mean?). We need to win this series. We had 'em right where we wanted 'em, (yeah, that's it) thinking we were dead at 3-0. I just kept telling myself, as well as some of the fifteen yankee fans I've counted at work (the number has gone up in the last few weeks, what are the odds?), that it's gonna be that much sweeter when we win. And now we're in the same spot we were in last year. This year it'll go our way. Come on, positive thinking, everybody. Beat NY.

Faust is a shameless, screeching chimp in diapers that are gonna smell eternally funky in HELL. The Yankees aren't sport, they're a shopping basket for souless urbanites who want a team that wins a lot so they can feel better about themselves at work. "We win AGAIN!" Boston may come up short - again, maybe not - but those that care will not have SOLD THEIR FUCKING SOULS for a ring. Yankees aren't true, they're false. The money matters chimp.
Swing the big stick Jere.
75% of Schilling won't be enough.

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Location: Rhode Island, United States