I had a lot of fun watching the yanks tonight. Way too much fun for our usual Lily performance to dampen things. Our loss also led to the Jays going up a game on the yanks for third. No worries here.

You should have heard Michael Kay's intro tonight. It was all about how these glittering stars on the yanks must start to shine. And how Randy needs to put together a hot streak. Seven runs, nine hits, and two homers later, Randy was done for the evening. He was getting hit hard. It was neverending fun.

I'm really glad I didn't see that debacle at Fenway, though. Tomorrow I'll be up there, though. The chances of two really bad losses in a row are remote, so I should be in good shape. I will be digital camera-ing for everyone's enjoyment.

And thanks, Sam, for making your team show up against the yanks, instead of playing like minor-leaguers, as is often the case when any team but the Red Sox plays the yanks. But after the yanks' performances against the Royals and Rays this year, I think a lot of teams are becoming less intimidated.

As you may remember, Michael Kay said, before the season, that the yanks would win 108 games. (He also said 7 guys would have to get injured for the yanks to not win the AL East.)

With a 39-38 record, the yanks would have to go 69-16 the rest of the way to reach Kay's 108 mark. That's .812 baseball. Could happen, Kay. It really, really could. Or was he talking about 2005 AND 2006?

Oh, speaking of "Coulda Shoulda Woulda, If If If" (the new yankee motto): Last night while we listened to Mike and the Mad Dog interview A-Rod live, Mike bragged to A-Rod about how he *almost* made what *would have been* the greatest double play of all time. It's amazing how much these words are coming up this seaon. Hey, didn't the yanks *almost* sweep the Red Sox in the ALCS last year?

And while I'm talking about that, surely you've heard the rumors of "certain" Red Sox players congratulating the yanks after it was 3-0. Well, to that I say... It worked, didn't it?

I just walked less than a block to get a slice of pizza, and in that time I saw a guy with a Red Sox/Manny 24 hat, and a woman with a red Manny player tee. So that's 3 Sox fans compared to the one yankee hat I saw. Nice. Manhattan is Red Sox Island.

Looks like I was right for once, in this case about the yanks LYING and saying the Mets came up with the Sheffield trade idea, and they declined it. It's so obvious they're trying to get rid of him, or at least show that anybody's tradeable. Cashman was on Mike & the Mad Dog a few hours ago, and wouldn't say anything about it.

I also heard Bob Costas on there just now, and he, being a Cardinals fan, was talking about how the Cards were the best team last year, except for October, and that those four WS games were the worst they'd played all year, and they just happened to come at the worst possible time, and bla bla bla. No credit given to the two Hall of Fame pitchers they had to face (along with seeing a knuckleball, and Lowe), or the incredible lineup their pitchers went up against. Terrible job, Mr. Baseball.

Mike & the Mad Dog are currently in the middle of a 24-hour long show for charity at Rockefeller Center. Earlier tonight, Chan and I ventured down to midtown to check out the incredible action that you can only get--from two dudes sitting there talking.

I saw this short but sweet headline (on a different cab, so I found another one with the ESPN headlines on top), and took this shot:

That's a railing in front of the cab. It's not some Spider-Man special edition. Though that would be cool.

We got to the spot where the show was being broadcast from. You know that ice rink where the cast of SNL skates around at the end of each season? And where they put a huge tree in December? Right, Rockefeller Center. Well, there's no ice there in the summer. It's a restaurant. That's where they were. People stood around and watched. Mark Messier was being interviewed. My shots of him weren't good enough to make the cut. This shot, which just goes to show you the vast expanse that is Mike Francesa, was taken from above the rink:


Rumors of a diet have been greatly exaggerated.

Then we went to get some food. We ate at a diner called Cosmic Diner @ 52. Incredibly average. But not bad for an 8 dollar panini sandwich.

We decided to check back in with the WFAN crew on our way back to the subway, to see who was being interviewed at that point. We passed the place where Hairspray is playing on Broadway, and I got this pic of that Bruce guy, who was signing autographs for people on line:


We got to Rockefeller Center again, and decided to go right down front. At that moment, they got A-Rod on the phone, from Detroit. Mad Dog asked A-Rod if he was anxious to play the night before, since the game wa rained out. And A-Rod, the jackass, said, "No, I wanted the day off." Somebody in the crowd shouted "pussy" really loud. Francesa was not amused, as I could tell from his no-nonsense stare into the crowd. I think the guy who said it was this drunk dude, who kept going on and on to his friends about how A-Rod needed that day off. I definitely didn't feel the urge to hang out with this guy, but I did agree with what he was saying. And I really hope his comment was audible to the home audience.

So here's a shot of Mike and the Mad Dog interviewing A-Rod:

Exciting, isn't it? A photograph of people talking to another person who isn't there. But that's what we did tonight.

Actual baseball tomorrow. We go into the weekend 2 1/2 up.

Sheffield got a two-game suspension for showing up that ump against the Mets. He's appealing it, so it'll probably go down to 0 or -1 games. There's also a rumor about Shef going to Florida for Juan Encarnacion and A.J. Burnett. Which is further proof that the yanks are trying to get rid of him, I think.

Quantrill and Stanton have been released. Too bad. I liked seeing them out there.

Another report says that the yanks will get a center fielder. Well, they better, since they've got Tony Womack out there.

Stay tuned for more chaos.

I'd just like to point out the great job that Allan is doing with both of his blogs. In Cold Blog is the political one, and Joy Of Sox is the Red Sox one. I've been a fan of his since before I started this blog, and I don't think I've plugged him in a while. But that's not the main reason I'm plugging him now. He's been linked on bostondirtdogs for a long time. DD's old blurb about his site was "The right Sox blog if you can stand the left wing politics," which implied that we, the readers, were automatically right wing people, which, clearly, many of us are not. Well, now that Alan has separated the church of Fenway from the state of the nation, Dirtdog's blurb (about only Joy Of Sox) is "New and improved without the politics." Which, of course, implies that Joy Of Sox wasn't as good when it talked about left-wing politics, because, we, the readers, are automatically right-wing people, which, once again, many of us are not.

I just don't like the cheap shots dd uses when plugging Alan's work, and just wanted to let everyone, left, right, whatever, know about BOTH his fine blogs.

But I'm sure you know about them already.

I'd e-mail dd about this, but I wouldn't want my e-mail to get lost and have to send it again to that racist bastard.

Also, since I botched the link a few days ago for RandomFandomRedSoxNYC, here it is again. I mean, for the first time.

And I can put the pic on the left or right, even. Fancy. I've chosen left for this sweet shot of David Ortiz throwing sidearm in Cleveland, Ohio.

Blogger finally lets me upload pictures right to Blogger itself. Gold. My test picture will be this video still from outside my apartment. This is one of those ads that come out of the back of a plane in little puffs of smoke. I don't know what the product was, but it had "ling" in it's name.

Needless to say, there will probably be a lot more pictures on this site, starting now, since my old way of posting them was a Kansas City Royal pain in the ass.

The first report was that the yanks were considering trading Gary Sheffield to the Mets for Mike Cameron. To this, Shef responded "I'm not going."

Then Torre told Gary that what really happened was that the Mets inquired about a trade and the yanks said "No, thanks."

The Mets are not commenting.

The key here is that we found out how Shef would react if the yanks really were considering trading him, which is to say, "I'm taking my glove and going home." He also said (after he was talked to by Torre) that if the yanks were considering trading him, it would be personal, and he wouldn't accept the trade, because of "concessions he made." Which is interesting, since he does NOT have a no-trade clause in his contract.

I liked how he said it would be personal. Like, he's saying, George, if you think about trading me, I WILL hate you for it. That can only lead to bad things in the Bronx.

Bring on the chaos!

As for Cameron's take on these events, he's blessed us with this quadruple (Or as Jan Brady once said, "Four-ple") negative:

"Don't ask me about no trade because I don't know nothing about it."

So we CAN ak him about a trade, because he DOES know something about it?

Thought so. This totally proves my theory that the yankees and Mets talked about this, which is what was going on in those meetings, and when Shef started babbling about it, Steinbrenner sent Torre to go in and tell him it was all the Mets' fault. And George paid Minaya to keep his mouth shut about it. And that isn't not the truth.

Key back-to-back HRs by the Bell twins. Another good job by Wake.

We're either 2 1/2 up on the O-Bags or 6 1/2 up on the scumbags after tonight. [Edit: Unless there's a rain out. Which there was.] I still say rooting for the Birds is the way to go here, as they're definitely going nowhere, whereas the yanks could get close enough so that they just buy whoever they need to get to the playoffs. Plus, if the yanks lose tonight, they drop to fourth place.

Okay, after reading Edmund Dantes' comment about the Springer guy possibly being the real Drinkwater, I've been sitting here watching the game on ESPN, wondering about Springer, trying to read his face, seeing if he's got a tell, a tell that says, "That fat dude isn't even here, and doesn't even show up til the seventh inning. He is a faux-Drinkwater. I am the real Drinkwater."

Then I got another comment from E.D., proving that Springer is indeed Drinkwater.

I really thought I knew what I was talking about.

So we're back to our original question: Who's the big dude who sits a few seats to Springer's, I mean, Drinkwater's left?

Thanks for the help, Edmund.

I think it's funny that my astrological sign is Virgo, aka "The Virgin," but I was born in the year of the Rabbit.

So I (don't) breed like a rabbit.

Aside from the comedy gold of this, it does really represent the contradicting sides of my personality. My Even-Steven-ness, if you will. In fact, I was named Steven for a day or so, but then they changed it. See what I mean?

After that last line, I thought I was done, so I named the post. Why do I use lateness as some kind of an excuse? I'm a night-owl, this is when I thrive. But like BSM, I love to sleep as much as I love staying awake as late as possible. Again, proof that I am Even-Steven. No, Even-Jere.

I didn't watch George SteinBusher's speech tonight, but I understand he did a terrible job with it.

"Is the sacrifice worth it? It is worth it and it is vital to the security of our country," said Resident Bush.

What's he talking about? Who are we fighting? Not anybody who ever did anything to us. Not the people who put a huge hole, which, may I point out, is still nothing but a huge hole, where the twin towers used to be.

Terrorists don't have a country. They're everywhere, and they come from all backgrounds. Our own military trained the white boy Tim McVeigh.

Fight terrorism, George, but don't tell the nation you're doing it when you're actually doing something else. Stop lying, and stop getting my friends killed.

Thank you.

Theo: Bullpen help. Now.

Foulke, you made Castiglione mad. And when Castiglione's mad, I'm mad. 8-5 in the eight, you can't lose that game.

And after a really nice yankee loss, too. I'd give this night a half Johnny Peralta's dgo, but it was JPD's master who had the key game-tying hit. Somehow I knew that dgo would come back and btie us in the ass.

And isn't it a rule that when the first two hitters are retired on the first pitch, the third batter has to take a pitch? Because Bellhorn broke that rule, and in the ninth inning at that.

We could've gained a game each on Balty and NY with two wins, but instead they've each gained a game. Terrible job.

In better news, I caught the end of that new show Stella, which is Black, Showalter, and Wain of The State, bringing their live act to the (bronze?) screen. Funny, as expected. I like how everybody uses their real names, and they occasionally break the proverbial fourth wall. I guess that wouldn't sell you on it. But give it a try. Comedy Central, Tuesday, around this time. Minus a half hour.

[Note from 6/2008: Please read all comments of this post--I had the wrong guy at the time but have since learned the names of all the people in question, drawn correct diagrams, taken many pictures of each guy with the correct caption, and met Kapstein. Search elsewhere on this blog for that stuff. Thanks.]

Here's the whole Drinkwater story, in case you missed it.

At some point last season (ish), I started paying attention to--all right, borderline obsessing over--the movements of a large man who sits behind home plate at every game at Fenway Park. Pat and I eventually saw him on the field at Fenway before a game. So we knew he was a big deal in some form. We thought maybe he was a minor shareholder in the team or something.

One day, I heard WFAN's equally large man, Mike Francesa, talking about a guy named Dennis Drinkwater (who I would go on to erroneously call Charles Drinkwater, since I hear "Dennis" as "Charles," apparently). He said, "..those are Drinkwater's two passions, the New York football Giants and the Red Sox. You know it's summer when you see Drinkwater behind home plate at Fenway..."

Ooh, could this be the guy in question? There are two other "regulars" I've noticed behind the plate at Fenway (from TV, of course): The Jerry Springer-looking guy ("Springer"), and the C. Everett Koop-looking guy ("Koop"). But I pretty much knew Francesa had to be talking about our boy.

This is where it gets hazy. I somehow found out that Drinkwater was the Giant Glass guy. At that point, it all made sense. The Giants. Giant Glass. Drinkwater's a Giants fan. Giant Glass is a HUGE sponsor, hence this dude's connection with the team and ability to walk on the field whenever he wants, and sit behind home plate at every game.

So, naturally, I had the idea of the "Drinkwater Blog," where we'd chart his movements and mannerisms. He's funny to watch. He doesn't always stand when everyone else does, as he's in the front row. And it's rare to see him really go nuts cheering for the team. I saw him on TV at the World Series, in St. Louis, too. Of course, the reason to do this would be so that he hears about it, and gives some front row seats to his biggest fans.

A few weeks ago, at Fenway, Reb and I were walking around outside, and there was the man himself. Here's the link to her post and picture of some dude with Drinkwater in the background. On our way home that night, we heard a Giant Glass commercial, and he actually spoke in it. I think he's taking advantage of his cult fame.

I figured I'd let you all in on the Drinkwater obsession before it gets out of hand. Watch a game with me, and you'll hear me rambling about DW between pitches. And Springer and Koop, of course.

Tonight, the lady from Make A Wish was on WEEI during the game, and she and Castiglione were touting Drinkwater like you wouldn't believe. He gives a lot to charity, as you know from the "Giant Part of the Lineup" thing on games on the radio. Good job, DW. Share the wealth. (and the tickets!) Castig also said "We always see him on the monitor behind the plate."

So, if nothing else, I have officially confirmed that the guy I've been watching is indeed Drinkwater.

I don't know what the point of all this is, really.

Just heard "Sick of Myself" by Matthew Sweet on the coming-back from commercial music, too. Nice. What wasn't nice was hearing Aaron Boone hit a homer right as they came back from commercial, just like '03. Did you see that dick get hit in the face yesterday? That was pretty sweet. And laughing at it was allowable because the ball hit his hand and then bounced into his demon face, so I chalked it up to "It was his own damn fault."

I've set yet a new record in seeing consecutive Red Sox games in different ways. Starting from last week's second Indians game:

6/21 live at Jake
6/22 on ESPN
6/24 live at Philly
6/25 on Fox
6/26 on NESN at parents' house
6/27 on MLB.tv at RebDog's house

Tonight I'm out of luck.

At this point, I could get the mlb.tv deal or the extra innings deal, but it's just so much monney for so much that I don't want. And the season's half over anyway. And I do seem to see a lot of games anyway through all my alternate sources. So I'm gonna keep doing it this way, and go with my Gameday Audio when necessary.

The yankee "state of the organization meetings lasted 5 hours today, per ESPN. All that came out of it is that all the coaches' jobs appear to be safe. I still say Torre's done, though. We'll see.

New blog by a NYC Sox fan: RandomFandomRedSoxNYC.

I dreamt of a tornado over the east river. It didn't move, but everyone was panicking as if it was about to. While planning my escape route, I thought back to how I'd just written something in my blog about "Orwell's War Of The Worlds," only I called it "Ortiz' Land Of The Lost." I hoped the tornado scare would end soon, so I could go back and fix my error before anyone saw it. And I thought of what jokes I could make to make it seem like I made the mistake on purpose. I finally got to a computer and corrected the mistake. As I went back outside, into tornado-dodging mode (I should have just stayed inside), I realized I'd written it wrong in another instance, and had to get back and fix that one. The dream turned to images of driving over non-existent bridges over the east river, and then I woke up.

The funny thing is, I realized when I woke up that Orwell wrote 1984, Wells wrote War of the Worlds.

And I didn't go back and change this.

If I were Chan, I'd probably end this with something like "Oh well, all's well that ends not well (or well)." But I'll leave that stuff to Chan.

Note: The fact that there's a new WOTW with that ass Tom Cruise had nothing to do with this dream, I'm quite certain.

Whenever a ball bounces off a fielder and goes over the fence for a home run, I think of the '86 playoffs, when it happened twice to the Red Sox. The first time was in the ALCS, when Dave Henderson almost made an amazing catch, leaping up to squeeze the ball as his momentum took his glove over the wall, where the ball promptly fell out. And in the World Series, Dwight Evans almost robbed Dykstra of a homer, but the ball fell out of his glove and into the bullpen as he banged into the low right field wall.

Tonight, Trot Nixon suffered a similar fate, combining the "wasn't even home run distance" of the Hendu play with the "low right field wall" of the Dewey play.

And that's how the night went for the Sox. The good news is that while I was searching for pictures of the '86 plays, I image-googled "86 World Series," and instead of shots of Buckner plastered on my screen, I was rewarded with magical pictures of men in gray Red Sox uniforms, under bright lights, hugging and smiling, from what seemed like some fantastical future world, but were actually shots from last October. Isn't it great how the number of years we waited doubles as a bad-memory-eraser?

I also was reminded tonight of how excrutiating it is to watch the Orioles play the yankees. I really can't stand that team, and I can't wait til we play them, because they are total crap. Even though they're our closest contender, I have no problem rooting for them against the yanks, because we're more likely to have to worry about the yanks then about them in the long run. (And also because I just wouldn't root for the yanks regardless.) The O-Bags are going nowhere this season. I don't know what was worse tonight, seeing the lolligagging Vazquez miss the easiest grounder of all time, down 7-0 with two outs in the ninth, or seeing Sammy Sosa miss an even slower bouncing ball in the outfield in a one-run game in the ninth, setting the yanks up for an insurance run.

Red Sox bats should wake up from their mini-vacation tomorrow night.

I guess I have to give credit to the Mets for getting two out of three, as mad as I am at them for turning into the old Mets tonight, handing the yanks a game that the yanks tried to hand them.

The yankees scored their first run on a TYR (Typical yankee Rally, a term my dad coined decades ago and has been using ever since): an error, an infield hit, a walk, and a fielder's choice, to tie the game.

And in the late innings, more walks and a balk by Mets pitching led to the yankee comeback and eventual win. Joe Morgan talked about how the yanks don't quit. Uh, the Mets just gave them the game, dude. They weren't even guarding the line on A-Rod's not-that-hard-hit grounder that went down the left field line in the ninth. And a failed hit-and-run cost the Mets another run.

There were good moments, with the yanks' using their comedy-of-errors style baseball several times. But, like I said, the Mets wanted to give this one away a little more than the yanks did tonight.

Too bad the one yankee win had to be the final game of the series. But we'll have to settle for the yanks being SEVEN back of us in the loss cloumn. And the O's are 2 1/2 back now.

I wonder if Gary Sheffield will hold a press conference so he can tell us how much class and restraint he showed tonight when throwing his helmet and nearly punching an umpire in the face, and then having to be held back (by others, mind you), while yelling obscenities. Maybe Bob Watson will give him some kind of "golden rule citation" for his behavior.


In Red Sox news, even after we blew the lead, I had confidence we'd win, which is a good sign. A better sign is that we actually did win, and easily.

Why rest Edgar? A little wrist problem? Come on, he gets every Thursday off this month. I still don't see why any of these guys ever need any extra rest. So I was quite pissed when that lolligagger/slack-jawed gawker, Vasquez, missed that potential double-play grounder. And I'm still a little confused on the whole "bringing in Embree in a big spot" thing.

But it's good that we're sweeping entire road trips while we iron out these little kinks.

The "Native American Stereotypes" and "Jays, Blew" come to town now, while the yanks head to "yankee Stadium at Camden Yards" before going to Michigan to play Samara's Thigh-gers. I think we can gain over this stretch. At the very least, we know either the O's or yanks have to lose a game each night over the next three.

Tomorrow I'm going to Rebecca's, while I'm up in CT to close out some bank accounts, tie up some loose ends, hide some evidence, and pay my last respects to inland Connecticut. So I'll get to watch the yanks and Sox at the same time, with the computer screen and the TV side by side. My lifelong dream, played out for the second time this month.

Did you hear that Shaughnessy predicted the Sox will win the division by ten games? You know, I've noticed it's been hot 12 of the last 13 days. I predict it will be hot for a while longer.

Have some guts. If you're gonna make a mid-season prediction, pick some team on a losing streak, and tell me they'll turn it around. I made the same prediction as Dan, actually, only it was for '04, and I made it right after the Aaron Boone home run. (Right before my 14-hour slumber, which I only came out of momentarily to call in "sick," the truest meaning of a "sick day" in my entire working life.) The Sox didn't even win the division as it turned out, let alone by ten games, but I think the World Series win proved that at least I had the right idea.