Now that I'm the proud owner of a Lost Boys DVD, I'm going to do something I've been meaning to do for more than a decade. I'm going to play "Count the Michaels."

My sister and I have always loved this movie. And at some point in the early nineties, between telling me that Skid Row was "pussy metal" and letting me videotape (?) his baseball card collection, her friend Andy (who I recently ran into at Fenway by random chance) pointed out the fact that "they must say the word 'Michael' a thousand times in that movie."

Well, my guess would be more like a hundred. I'm watching it now, kind of to see what I'm up against, without doing the actual count.

At one point, the vampires chant Michael's name. I think I'll count every single one. I think there are four people chanting, so I'd count each Michael as four Michaels for that part.

Note: Corey Haim's character often refers to Michael as "Mike." "Mike"s and "Mikey"s count. Of course. Maybe I could have the DVD sitting in a jar, and people could look at the jar and write down their guess as to how many Michaels are inside.

"My own brother, a goddamn shit-suckin' vampire! You wait til mom finds out, buddy."

I did a post about tonight's game, but I had to erase it, because it somehow put my entire blog into a state of italics. But you didn't miss much. Just three lines of me being pissed off. Congratulations if you were one of the few who saw the mystery post. It's kind of like when Chan and I saw a taping of Letterman on New Year's Eve, and it never aired.

Tomorrow we'll get those poo-poo heads back.

Soxaholix has come up with a clever parody of the Angels' official team name!

Go there now, there are still plenty of pretty pictures and ads! You can even donate money directly to them! (You know, if you're tired of donating to those pesky hurricane victims.)

My dad warned me not to make fun of Aaron Small, after he pitched well in his first start. Instead of heeding that warning, I proceeded to compare him to a ridiculous-looking claymation character. He's gone on to do very, very well.

So, tonight, let's beat that high-quality Aaron Small. It will be tough, since he's such an amazingly good pitcher that I wish was on the Red Sox.

Here's something I made with the cheesy paint program that came with my laptop:

Chan and I just went to Coldstone. Since the yankee game (another loss to Tampa) had ended an hour or so before, I guaranteed a Tino Martinez sighting, since we've seen him there before. I said to Chan, "The team's in town, the game ended fairly early. I'm sure Tino promised the kids a Coldstone trip before the Sox come to town to kick some ass."

We got there, and unlike last time, we were the only ones there. And no employees were singing. As we looked over the ice cream selection, I looked over at the door, and watched Jorge Posada walk in.

He came right over to the spot behind me in line, with a buddy-type person following him. I thought for a minute, and decided I was gonna talk to him.

"Hey, Mr. Posada," I said. I can't believe I called him "mister." I should've gone the "Jorge" route.

"Hey," he mumbled, looking down at the ice cream.

"Last time I was here, I saw Tino Martinez," I told him.

"Oh yeah?" He was feigning interest. His eyes were red. Not just bloodshot, but red all around.

"So I always see a yankee in here."

"Well, it's good stuff," he said to the floor, with the man behind him ready to attack if I laid a finger on him. Although I could have taken him AND Posada with one sock tied behind my back.

"I guess it's the one thing I have in commom with you guys." That's a lie. I think Coldstone is overrated. They know about the DQ Blizzard, right? Terrible job, Coldstone.

Anyway, at that point, Jorge inquired to the employee about the oozing vats of ice cream in front of the four of us.

The employee told us that the freezer broke. The stuff was totally melted. Posada took his buddy and left. Chan had already ordered, and felt he had to buy at that point. I got nothing. Chan threw the stuff away on our walk home, disappointed.

So we go into the yankee series up by four games. And the yanks are a half back of Cleveland for the Wild Card. I hope none of the umps from the yanks' or Sox' last series are not involved this weekend.


Also, tonight I heard something so ridiculous. It was Bellhorn's first start as a yankee at home. Which means what? That's right, he was part of his first bleacher creature roll call. "Ma-ark Bellhorn! clap, clap, clap clap clap." I almost puked.

Another beautiful night at Fenway, in more ways than one. This is one of my favorite shots ever. It was right when Fred Lynn was waving from his seat. I knew I wouldn't really be able to make Fred out, but I'm glad the star and the moon came out so well.

Before I left for the game, my mom said she'd chip in on some hurricane relief if they were doing that "take your picture with players" thing again. So when WCSG and I went inside, we happened to pass autograph alley, and saw Wakefield and Myers up there. Now, those guys are great, and I'd want to be photographed with them regardless, especially for a good cause, but I've always wanted to tell Wakefield about the common friend that he shares with my dad. All right, through that friend's dad. But it's something. So I grabbed my mom's fifty and my fifty and ran to the line. As soon as I filled out the official form, we were brought right up to Wake and Mike. There were folks in front of us on line, but for some reason it seemed like they'd all just been waiting for us to arrive, as we were whisked right up to the front. We immediately were positioned right behind our favorite oddball delivery/style pitchers. Mike Myers is a really friendly guy. He saw what I was wearing and said, "Bad News Bears, cool." Wakefield looked back and chimed in with a Beavis-like "Heh heh, cool." Mike then asked me if I "saw that movie." I told him I hadn't seen the remake. All this happened in a few seconds, as some other person was telling us all to smile. They took two shots, and started motioning for us to get the hell out of there. Just then, someone else started talking to Wakefield, but I culdn't miss my chance. "Timmy," I said as I very slowly started walking away. He looked back, and I told him of my four-to-five degree connection to him. He acknowledged it, and I thanked him and Mike as I was being pulled away.

So, I guess the deal is that they sign it and send it to you later. You know they'll remember me from the Bad News Bears jersey. Maybe just for that they'll each throw some season tickets my way along with their autographs. You know, just something in the grandstand.
Here's Timmy getting the Clemente Award.


Here's the view from seats we totally didn't have.


That's more like it. Bleachers, section 43. Here's David acknowledging me using a serious of off-camera mirrors. Section 43 had a rogue element I didn't like last game (of our 10-game plan.) And this time there were just a bunch of empty seats where the regulars sit. Even "the big man" didn't show. Was nice to have some room around us, though.

I've done the "Bronson ascending to heaven" shot before. But this time, the sun was right above him for an even more heavenly feel.

The greatest non-battting glove-wearing player in the game today, Vlad Guerrero.

Millar rounds the bases on a dong.

The classic Arroyo leg kick.

It wouldn't be a Sox game without Mirabelli and his cart. And it wouldn't be a Sox blog without a Sox fan taking a picture of Doug and his cart and then saying how it wouldn't be a Sox game without Doug and his cart.

The dude that fought with Bonds.

Red Sox win, 6-3.

In defense of Bronson:

Guitar playing just happens to be an activity that can be very public. To have people hear your music, it's necessary to play it in front of them, or at the very least, record it and make them aware of it somehow. (Again, by playing it for them.) Not to say that this is the reason we play music. For example, my friend and roommate Chan is a very talented guitarist, but has never played in front of an audience or even recorded a song.

I'm just saying, Bronson gets a bad Saran Wrap for having an "in-the-spotlight" hobby.

Maybe Edgar Renteria is a huge dominoes player. Maybe he doesn't work out some days becuase he HAS to play dominoes. He could be the world champion domino player, but no one would know, because nobody gives a fuck about dominoes. But everybody enjoys music, to some degree.

So, I say, if he's got a hobby, let him do it. Him being comfortable and being allowed to do what he wants will make him a better ballplayer, I think.

Besides, I never hear anyone telling Tim Wakefield to "lay off the charity work, it's really affecting your game."

That is all.

For months now, I planned to do a post on my thritieth birthday called "There Is No Sanctuary," referring to the movie Logan's Run, in which an entire race of people believe that on their thirtieth birthday, they go to "Sanctuary."

And here it is, the day, and I forgot all about it.

Until I went to WCSG, and saw that in her most recent post, she actually mentioned Logan's Run. So thanks to her, I at least have now remembered to do the "Sanctuary" post-title. Also, thanks to her for filling in for Pat at last night's Sox game. (More on that later, as promised.)

I am not the only milestone birthday in the Red Sox blogging world today, as SamCat turns the large two-oh. So, Happy Fantabulous Red Sox Fan Day, or whatever is was that Sam named our birthday along time ago. (For the official logo, go to Reb Sox.

...because they make it so easy.

On my way home from Fenway tonight, after I was out of EEI land, I was listening to WFAN. A yankee fan called in, and spoke in a lazy tone which gave the impression that he'd given up on his team long ago. But almost as if his vocal chords still hadn't grasped that concept, he came out with: "The yanks are gonna be okay."

The host asked him why he thought so, to which he replied, "Well, they got that guy from Japan pitchin' tomorrow, that what's-his-name."

"It's Wang," said the host, "and he's Korean."


Another fan called in, and in a middle-eastern accent, rare in the sports talk world, said "I'm lifelong yankee fan. I hate Red Sox and whenever they win it breaks my heart apart." He went on to give his World Series prediction: Red Sox over Cardinals.


Pics and stories from last night's game to come later today.

Woohoo! I am on cloud effin' nine right now. Thank you, Papi.

This turned out to be quite an important night.

The Sox and yanks games were parallelling each other all night. Both teams had a lead, but allowed the opponent to tie it up late.

When the Angels had the go-ahead run on third with one out in the ninth against the Sox, the yanks were tied, but with home field advantage, still seemed to have the edge on their toughest opponent, the Tampa Bay Devil Rays.

But Wake got out of it, and David won it, guaranteeing we'd be at least three up at the end of the day.

The yanks were ready to keep pace, as they had Bernie up with two on and one out in the bottom of the eighth. The yankee Stadium crowd felt a little of that last-century arrogance, but they should have known better. Bernie lined into an inning-ending double play. They still looked good, though, as Mariano came in for the ninth in a tie game, to the strains of the land of Chokia's National Anthem, Enter Sandman. But thanks to Robinson Cano pulling a TPS (Timo Perez syndrome)*, the D-Rays scored the go-ahead run, and held off the yanks in the bottom of the ninth. 4-3 Tampa. D-Rays win season series. With five games left in it. I'm wondering if George actually keels over tonight.

It could easily be a two-game lead right now.

But it's four! And the Tribe won, closing to within one of the yanks.

To have that piece of tall shit Randy lose after he was so pumped to actually pitch well in his last start is so key. They need the Randy games, because they can't be trustin' Chasmall and Con. I mean, Chacon and Small. Especially when they're facing a quality team, like they will be weekend.

Manny predicted Ortiz' game-winning homer. Because with Edgar up, he was in the dugout, on the bench. He did have a bat in his hand, but to me, it just seemed like what he was doing was saying, "This game will be over before I even get up." Which usually means an Ortiz homer flying through the night air.

Speaking of Manny and predictions, earlier in the game, with the count 1-2 on Manny, mom yelled out, "Ooh, let's walk, Manny." I said, "Mom, it's 1-2." Three pitches later, my mom was right. Good call, Mom.

Tomorrow I go to Fenway, which is why I'm at my parents' house, which is way closer to Boston than New York is. Also, they get the games on TV. It was really key to watch tonight's game on an actual TV.

The Sox should have worn the red jerseys tonight, but only in honor of Bob Denver, TV's Gilligan, who died today. RIP Bob.

*TPS (for the last time): n. 1. When some dude plays really well in his first year, giving a manager false hope, and costing his team big time with late- or post- season rookie blunders. See 2000 World Series.

In tonight's example, Cano, who has fooled the yanks into thinking they have a second baseman with some minor examples of good hitting which were put to rest when teams started getting scouting reports on him, misplayed a grounder in the ninth, allowing the Rays to score the winning run. Shoulda brought in Bellhorn! Hahahaha.

[An AP Photo was used in this post very legally.]

The A's and Indians are currently two games behind the yanks in the loss column for the Wild Card lead. With the A's still battling the Angels for the west title, and still having four games left against them, and any Red Sox wins against the Angels helpng the yanks, I'm focusing on the Indians to get that Wild Card.

Wahoo's Tribe has games left against: the Tigers, two series' with KC, and Minny, TB, and Oakland, all at home. They do play two series' with the White Sox. But one is the last series of the season, which may turn out to be meaningless for Chicago.

So it's definitely a possiblilty that they can gain three games on the yanks. But, who knows, a lot of things can happen. I just hope the Indians have their team-owner-woman cardboard cut-out ready.

From the Progress Report:

The message from Bush and [White House communications director Dan] Bartlett is that state officials were "slow to call for outside help." The reality is that Louisiana state officials reached out to the federal government for assistance before the storm hit. On Aug. 27, Gov. Blanco sent a detailed letter to President Bush requesting assistance because "this incident is of such severity and magnitude that effective response is beyond the capabilities of the State and affected local governments, and that supplementary Federal assistance is necessary to save lives, protect property, public health, and safety, or to lessen or avert the threat of a disaster."

One of them, anyway.

Got a Bad News Bears jersey. Amanda's number 11. Cha-ching. Milestone birthdays get you the best presents. But I've still got a few more days of hanging on to my twenties. The last of which, Wednesday, will be spent at Fenway watching the first-place, World Champion Boston Red Sox, with my Amanda jersey on. Not a bad way to close out my third decade on earth.

Curt got all of his lingering crappiness out of the way today. He should be all set for the yanks next weekend.