Yesterday, me and a co-worker went downtown for a work-related thing. That thing took place at 36th and Broadway. We went down around 4, stayed for a while, then walked down Broadway to Madison Square Park, home of Shake Shack. And everything felt normal. Until today, when I read that a dude tried to parachute off of the Empire State Building. If the class will whip out their NYC maps, you can see that my walk took me right past there at the time cops were pulling him back. So, if this guy had jumped, and his chute hadn't opened, or even if it had, there would have been a reasonably good chance that instead of reading this blog, you'd be reading about the blogger who got killed by a flying body. Scary stuff. But worth the risk, for sure. You just don't get that kind of excitement in French Lick.

Also from the Daily News, check out this article, where stupid Damon continues to reminisce about the good old days, right from the yankee clubhouse!

Orel Hershiser on ESPN2 before tonight's game: "Josh Beckett will have a breakout year this year for the Boston Red Sox."

Me: "Uh-ohhhh."

Sure enough, the jinx was on. I'm sure it was just for tonight, though. Not that it would've helped too much tonight, but we really need Coco back.

Conversation overheard between a Dunbar fan and a Cardinals fan:

DF: How'd the yanks do last night?

CF: They lost to the Devil Rays. And Sheffield made the last out with the bases loaded. It was a heartbreaker.

DF: Not for me, you know why? 'Cuz I was asleep, heh heh.

Didn't I mention last night, during the game in question, that yankee fans were asleep, while I (and as it turns out, this 88-year old Cardinal fan) was up watching their team?

Tonight I saw a commercial where Johnny Damon wears the "yankees Universe" shirt that I've mentioned before on this blog. It's stuff like this that make me remember that Johnny's full of crap. He talks to national reporters as if the yankees are tying him down and forcing him to play for them. Then he--once the face of "Red Sox Nation"--turns around and dons a "yankee Universe" shirt, thinking only yankee fans can see it. He needs to realize that he's going to be booed no matter what he does, short of playing for the yanks in a Red Sox uniform and telling the official scorer to give any runs he's responsible for to the Red Sox.

Another thing I don't get about Dirt Dog is his desire to wuss-ify the greatest rivalry in sports. It's such a part of being a Sox or a yanks fan. To have your side, and the opposite side. Dads are dads and Dougs are Dougs and never the twain shall meet, if you know what I mean. He's turning Red Sox fans into strippers. Let me explain. You know how our male-dominated society has tricked females into thinking stripping or porno acting is respectable and empowering? Like, "Yeah, honey, stay strong....and keep taking off your clothes for my amusement. You're one of us, one of the guys...we totally don't talk about your butt while you're walking away."

Well, it's like that. Some Red Sox fans think that if we just stop saying "yankees suck," or if we cheer for the other team, or not hate our rival, that will somehow make us "classier," and then we can all live in peace and harmony. But this is a game. They're gonna hate us regardless. Yes, you respect your opponent...unless they're the goddamn yankees! You think their fans are gonna change their opinion of us if we cheer Damon? And say to us on the street, "That was good of you. I therefore will stop making fun of your team"? Hell, no! They're gonna say "What a fucking wuss you are! Boston sucks!" And what would the rivalry be without that? Why can't we hate them with everything we've got and they do the same?

That's the "genius" of the yanks calling themselves "classy." It's so they and their fans can get away with being about the least "classy" beings you'll ever meet. Some Sox fans are actually fooled by it: "Oh, I hear they're classier than us. Let's not hate them so much so we can be classy, too." And then we get walked all over by those cretins anyway.

If you don't want to be a part of the rivalry, move to southern California. There are plenty of teams out there you can root for and not give a shit whether they win or lose. Get there in the third, leave in the seventh, smoke some weed and don't even check the score in the morning. Because, hey, we're all winners deep inside! Yeah! It's just a game!

Seriously, this isn't society, it's baseball. You can say "I hate those guys, I like these guys." It doesn't matter. You can "hate" the yankees without being a bad person. I'm telling you, I saw Jorge Posada at the fucking Cold Stone last year. Did I start swinging at him? No. We talked about ice cream. But when he puts on the pinstripes, he's not a person, he's a piece of crap who must be destroyed. All right, maybe just put out on a 4-6 fielder's choice.

I try not to mention Boston Dirt Dogs here anymore. It used to be fun to repeatedly rip into him and his shitty ways, but I finally decided to just ignore him. Besides, I've already got Mr. Dunbar to piss me off daily, I don't need any more stress in the baseball department. I know if I go to BDD, I'll just work myself up into a lather, with little chance of rinsing but much repeating.

However, he seems to be pretty hell-bent on making Red Sox fans cheer Johnny Damon when he comes "home" (Dirtdogs' words, well, actually he was quoting a song, but still, how is Boston Johnny Damon's home?) to Fenway next week.

If he's got an opinion about that, fine. I don't understand why he can't say "I think it would be good to cheer Damon." His site is part of boston.com. Since when do newspapers blatantly tell people what to think and do? Don't answer that. But still, this guy has such a huge influence, and he knows it, and he's trying to tell Red Sox fans what to do. He's trying to make us feel stupid if we don't do what he says.

It's ineresting, he's got a quote from Lucchino up there. Larry was asked what he thought the fans should do, and his answers started with "I hope" and "I think." Even the CEO doesn't feel it necessary to tell his own team's fans what to do.

Then he's got a ridiculous paragraph of Damon's quotes from a USA Today article. Johnny is so scared to death of us. You'd think Dirtog, as long as he's telling people what to do, would tell Sox fans to not back down, but instead he calls for an ovation. Johnny talks about how there's enough hatred in the world and that it's "just a game." Boo freakin' hoo. You'd think if Johnny had learned one thing from playing in Boston it would be that it's not just a game. In fact, he better hope his boy George doesn't hear about his "just a game" quote.

And who else doesn't seem to realize that baseball in New England is more than just a game? Dirtdog, apparently. The guy's life's work appears to be a Red Sox-based website. If it was "just a game" he'd give back all the dough he's raking in from boston.com.

So, today's message is "think for yourself." Remember the following when you make your decision about Damon, though: He's a member of the New York yankees by choice. He was thanked plenty the whole time he was here. It's not like the 2004 World Series was yesterday, and we never got a chance to show our gratitude. You want to thank a guy who hasn't been on the Fenway field since the '04 World Series? Pedro's coming to town in June.

And the only way we're going to take down the Dirt dogs site, I think, is if we flood boston.com with emails, telling them we don't want to be told what to do.

Bad game tonight. Fortunately, I've got those wacky Devil Rays to root for, and they've put themselves in position for a win. Up two, headed to the bottom of the tenth. Can we please not walk the first batter on four pitches?

3-0. Classic whoever-plays-the-yanks (except us) behavior. And there we go. Walk to the leadoff batter. That's thirteen walks by D-Rays pitching, a new record for the club. It's unbelievable that any reliever in this situation would walk the first guy. Okay, Miceli got a K. One out.

There are almost no fans left in the Bronx. The wings of the upper deck were empty to start the game anyway. Imagine a Red Sox game at Fenway, tied in the ninth, and seeing one empty seat? Come on, it's not that cold. But now, especially with the D-Rays' deuce in the top of the tenth (off the great Mariano), most of the season ticket holders are back in New Rochelle.

Two outs now. Come on, Devil Rays. Seriously. Damon up. Miceli looks so very, very old and tired. He seems to be trying his hardest to make the yanks win however he can. No replay on a very close check swing that went in Damon's favor. Ball four. Fourteen walks. Great job, asshole.

Now it's Jeter as the potential winning run. D-Rays skipper to the hill: "A few more walks and we break the ML record, come on, guys! Or better yet, how about giving up a cheap bloop single to right to make Jere sweat a little more!"

1-1 on the cheating dick. 2-1. Shef on deck. Single. At least it wasn't a walk.

Here's another dick. Sheffield. How about some foul homers, Shef, then a K? Deal? Rays bringing in caller number 10 to face Shef. Miceli seriously looked like a contest winner, chosen at random to "face your favorite players in a real game!"

A-Rod's on deck. How about a walk so A-Rod can come up and end the game. No, I should be careful what I wish for. Strike one to Fuckface McGee. I sense a foul HR. Catcher to mound. Last of Dunbar Universe drifting off...drifting off...dreaming now. 2-1 now. Uh, D-Rays, come on. Why must you do this to us?

Hey! The third baseman almost dicked us over, but had time after the bobble to throw out Shef! Haha! Devil Rays win.

How sweet is that. Murderer's Cai-Row (woohoo, Cairo, hence my crafty nickname, is back!) picked up 14 walks and 6 hits, leave 16 men on, and only get 2 runs and lose to Tampa. George's ass must be burning with pure fire.

Hey, Dunbar fans, here's your chance to tell me how I'm obsessed with the yanks, as if I'm going to somehow change what I've been doing my whole life so you'll "respect me as a baseball fan." Or care at all that what you think of me.

What a weird day. Linked by Eric Wilbur for my mascot post, then Dirtdog himself links that, giving me more hits than Pete effin' Rose. All because I took a picture of a couple of big, furry socks with faces. Funny, Dirtdog inadvertently giving me publicity. If you came here from there, just know that you are allowed to think for yourself, you don't have to listen to the "big dog." He's full of poopy.

And now Beth is linking to me. The '04 world-flip is now complete.

I've also featured a drawing here, and I realize it would be more appropriate if was Tampa that got the walks. Oh, well. I'm not messin' with that guy. He looks so happy. Let's not tell him he's all f'd up.

The following pictures may be disturbing to some viewers. Some of the substances shown here are of the unknown variety.

Here's my Red Sox hat as seen from head-on.I got it a few years ago. Other Sox hats include: A few I got while very young, with the mesh back, one of which was from the McDonald's near Fenway, which lasted my whole childhood. (As did the McDonald's.) A weird off-white one with a blue brim, with a little Red Sox crest logo, from the early nineties. My only fitted one that I wore in the mid- to late nineties. And of course my Red Sox painters' caps from the eighties. Now back to the current hat. The classic "B":
What you'd see if you were standing behind me, and I was sitting down, facing away from you:
Head-on, close-up:
I was always envious of people who had this front portion of their brim in tatters. It never happened to me until this hat. Here it is again from the side:
Here's the hat from the left and right sides. You'll notice a white, grimy substance has built up on each side:

Holes are forming on the back-right and right side panels:
The rare bottom view:
The writing on the tag has mostly rubbed off:
A close-up of the lower of the two smaller "B"'s hidded within the main "B":
I saved this one for last. The metal fastener thing appears to either be rusting or molding over. (I don't really bother with fitted hats, because my hair changes a lot. If you have hair, and you get a fitted hat, and then you shave your head, suddenly you look like a freak with a huge hat.):
Some people say, "You should wash that thing." I don't understand what that means. Should I put it in a washing machine? I think it would disintegrate.

These are the bloggers who said "Just grab 'em in the biscuits":

Empyreal Environs

Bullshit Memorial Stadium

Witch City Sox Girl

Reb Sox

12-Eight

Tonight, my mom was in town, and she took me to the 5:40 showing of Sisters In Law at the Film Forum. What an incredible movie. It takes place in Cameroon, where my mom served in the Peace Corps back in an era "boomers" like to call "the sixties." To sum it up, it's a documentary about two women, one a state prosecutor, the other a court president, who don't take any shit from accused convicts. The film covers two spousal abuse cases and one child abuse case. The guilty parties use excuses like "She's my wife, she's not allowed to leave the house without my permission," and "I only beat her when I was angry," to which these two women say, "terrible job, that ain't gonna fly." It basically shows how the Cameroonian culture treats all people as equals. Maybe someday our culture will get there. If you're a fan of justice, go all the way to New York to see this movie. It's very sad at times, but you'll feel good coming out.

But don't go reading any other reviews, because, terribly, they all seem to mention Judge Judy.

So mom and I went back to the Chan/me pad, and flipped on the Sox game on "Sports Time Ohio." I missed the crazy Manny double play. But I got to see the Ortiz blast, and the Manny one after Papi was intentionally walked. We had that game all the way...

133 pitches for Schilling? J. Christ, man. Then again, it could have been 103, since Sports Time Ohio seemed to make mistake after mistake, much like Ridgefield High School's Tiger TV. In the bottom of the eighth, they put up the "Top 9" graphic. Then when the Tribe made it 8-6, they called it 8-7, making my mom and I really nervous, wondering how we'd missed a run. Still nothing across against Papelbon. Speaking of him, did you see when Vernon Wells struck out against him over the weekend? The first time, Wells literally screamed "God damn it!" and got all pissed, as if to imply, "I could've easily hit this kid, it was my fault." Then, in the next game, he struck out against Pap again, and quietly walked away, implying "This kid really is good. My mistake." Good sign, I thought.

[Edit: I totally neglected to mention that the above film is a documentary at first. I fixed that.]

Per the request line, me with a mohawk, playing bass in The Pac-Men, circa, I don't know, '01, while singer Brian inexplicably makes the international sign for "I can't take this anymore.":I honestly can't figure out where the above pic was taken. Can any ex-Men help?

And here's a very unique shot of me. You'll never see me with a tie on, unless there's a wedding or funeral to go to. Also, I'm in front of a long-since-functioning ferris wheel somewhere in Mass. Also, I only wore those round-ish style glasses for a little while:
That one's from about '02-ish.

And what random picture post would be complete without our friend Chan? Here's a pic I took of him at Wrigley Field in 1998:

I get the ticket alert emails from the yankees. On the heels of an offer where you could save literally 80% on the price of certain tickets, I just got another offer to save 46%.

I know I say this every year, but just remember this when they're talking about setting sales records at the end of the year.

I could draw up 4 million "tickets" to "Chan taking a crap," and hand them all to the first person I see on the street, and claim that I "sold" (price: free) 4 million tickets. But, like, I don't.

I got this here Red Sox nightlight as a gift. To Chan's dismay, I often put it up in the living room. But the outlet is made up of a switch above, and "holes" below. So the only way the thing fits is upside-down. I couldn't help but notice it looks like an ultrasound. Squint hard enough and maybe you'll see a Varitek fetus.

More on tonight's game later. Ish.

Raise your hand if you just really enjoy the taste of coffee. Not so fast, most of America. Get your caffeine while it's still legal. Or better yet, start weaning yourself off it now, or you're going to be in big trouble. Liberate yourselves from your dependencies. You'll save some money in the process! Then you'll stop working so hard, and have more time to do creative stuff. Or hike the nearest 2,000-mile trail.

Dunkin' Donuts is using a They Might Be Giants song, as was pointed out by Witch City, so they've got that goin' for them. Also, they're not Starbucks. This post was going to end here, but now that I'm screwing with logos, I'll pull the classic "Fuck Off" on the Starbucks one. If it doesn't appear here soon, that means I decided to just go to bed.

Okay, done. They make it so easy.

This is fun. And to think, I was going to do another Bronson Arroyo post tonight...

Is anyone else following that Sox fan who's hiking the Appalachian Trail? I found out about it through Joy of Sox (check the March archives). I guess the dude is a SoSH poster, and he wanted to change his lazy lifestyle, starting (!) by suddenly making the 2,000-some-odd-mile trek. I've always wanted to say "some-odd." Anyway, I'm glad this person decided to do something about his situation, and quite impressed that he hoisted his middle finger straight up at the average workaday American lifestyle.

However: I've noticed that since he started his hike a month ago, he's been eating at Domino's, he's eatin' McDonald's, he's staying at Super 8 and Clarion motels, he's drinkin' more Coke than water... isn't this kind of cheating?

I live a mile from work, and I walk there and back every day. I've probably walked as much as he has this month, and I can go to Domino's and McDonald's right here in my neighborhood. All while earning money, going to Red Sox games, etc. I'm just saying, maybe a treadmill would've sufficed for this man.

I have to say that I'm a little worried about him. It's quite amusing reading his tales--he seems to be the "Bad News Bears" of hiking: Not being able to find the trail on the first day, then going down the wrong one; breaking his flashlight the first night; not having enough tent poles and having to use his jackknife to keep the tent up. But for this guy to not get eaten by a bear--or at least have a bear take all his clothes, leaving him to hike naked and then realize he's going in circles--would be a miracle.

I also imagine him hearing whipping noises and children screaming in the night, then finding a piece of Josh's flannel with eye-gut inside.

I just wonder if he's going to make it all the way. The way I see it, the trail is about 2,000 miles long, and the trip is supposed to take about 200 days. That's ten miles a day, a rate he's doing about half of. I think. Oh, and he's going north. Springer, Georgia to Maine. (If only the finishing point was called Drinkwater, Maine.) So he better get a move on. You don't want to be in Maine, well, you don't really ever want to be in Maine, but you definitely don't want to get stuck in the woods in Maine past October.

But, hey, there's always the Super 8.

1988: Jere, age 13, receives poster of his favorite player, Roger Clemens, from Santa Claus:



Late 1990s: Clemens wins championships with yankees (not pictured).

Never: Jere forgives his boyhood hero.

While waiting for my pizza at Delizia, I saw some of the Mets game playing on their TV. Chad Bradford was on the mound. Spicoli was up, but he was followed by, in succession, Doug Mirabelli, Mark Bellhorn, and Dave Roberts.

We needed that win today. Good job by Jon "Riggins" Papelbon. After the game, I threw on the ol' (meaning new) Pap T-shirt, and headed out to buy some razor blades, shaving cream, and ivory soap. (Because I happened to need them, not because Jon has inspired me to do another mohawk.) The first reaction came from a guy in his car: "Red Sox! Short-lived! Short-lived!" Ignored him. Two seconds later a guy in a yankee hat opened a door for me. So, it takes all kinds, or something.

I live in New York. I see yankee fans every day on the street. I've been on the 4 train on yankee game days this season. I've been on the Metro-North going to Connecticut right after a game in the Bronx. In other words, lately, I've seen large gatherings of yankee fans. And I'd like to point out that I have yet to see one Johnny Damon shirt.

We all know that the Sox have gone 0-3 since sending down Adam Stern. But check this out as well: 2006 Red Sox record in games Adam Stern appears in: 9-1. Without Stern: 2-6.

The 2005 box scores are here! Check out retrosheet for those, along with some other years that they previously didn't have.

Also, if you flip a penny from before 1982, it will make a pinging sound. After '82, no ping. '82 was the year they took the ping out of the penny. Some '82s have it, some don't.

So we've all got that goin' for us.