It was already perfect that Fox News is a huge Dunbar sponsor. But now George is dedicating one entire between-innings segment to them, for a little "news" wrap-up. (In-game style, just like on the scoreboard at the park! Except that at home, you can just change the stupid channel to any news station whenever you want anyway...)At the end of it, the news guy says a message to the audience, tonight's being "good luck, yanks." Terrible job. They almost blew it tonight against "Los Rangers," as their uniforms said, turning an 8-1 blowout into an 8-7 nailbiter. Mariano will most likely have to rest tomorrow.

In better news, the man I love (left, football-sized Reuters photo) delivered a key three-run double in a win over Millar and the N+1's. Our Fox News-ish one is now 5-0. And Lowell is finally pulling off the idea I always have with new right-handed hitters, which is to simply hit fly balls to left for doubles. My dad has taken to calling him the predictable "Doubles." However, I'm taking a page out of my friend Brian's book here. Brian refers to a double as a "doobler." And not just in RBI Baseball. For example, if, maybe, there are two Reese's Puffs stuck together, he'll call that a doobler. Or, if you pass two cars in a row when it looked like you were only going to pass one on the highway, and he's in your passenger seat: "Ooh, the doobler." Stuff like that. Although in his recently published tri-media 'zine, he spells it "doubler," but explains that it's properly pronounced "DOOB-ler." For purposes of Lowell's nickname, I'm going with "Doobler."

Tomorrow I'll be at Fenway. $12 dollar seats.

Note on post title: You'll never get it. After writing "doobler" so much, I thought of the Doobie Brothers, one of whom was Michael McDonald, who wrote "I Keep Forgettin'," the bassline and beat of which were sampled by Warren G for his single "Regulate," which, of course, featured the line "the next stop is the Eastsi-ide Mote-e-e-e-e-l." Too much? Are these fun to figure out for anyone besides AJM? What's your vote? [Note: You can't win. I'm just gonna keep doing it.]

With all apologies to folks who don't like the phrase "holy fucking shit," holy fucking shit!

Read this: "(By MSGNetwork.com.) Are you a displaced Red Sox fan living in the Tri-State area and miss seeing up-close coverage of your beloved team? Or are you a curious Yankee fan who wants to see how the other half lives on the tube? Just in time for the new MLB season, FSN New York brings you Boston Sports Tonight every night at 10 p.m. and 10:30 p.m. following the Best Damn Sports Show, beginning Monday April 3. Boston Sports Tonight delivers all the Boston-flavored sports news of the day with hosts Gary Tanguay and Greg Dickerson, along with experts, athletes and management to breakdown and analyze the busy Boston sports scene."

After getting a comment from someone named soxroxny (thanks!), which I thought was some kind of bad joke, I looked into this only to find it was true. Fox Sports New York showing Boston Sports Tonight. I don't even know if this show is any good, but on principle, it's a huge win. Too bad I haven't noticed this yet, since it's already been on for over a month. This is also good news for the entire tri-state area, including Fairfield County, who all get FSN-NY.

NOTE TO STUPID PEOPLE AT NESN AND MLB: A NEW YORK STATION IS NOW SHOWING A BOSTON-BASED SHOW, REALIZING THERE ARE BOSTON FANS HERE. I'M NOT ASKING FOR NESN TO BE AIRED IN NYC, BUT MAYBE NOW AT THE VERY LEAST YOU CAN GIVE NESN TO ALL OF NEW ENGLAND, INCLUDING FAIRFIELD COUNTY, CONNECTICUT. HELLO?

Hipster magician David Blaine is currently doing a stunt in which he'll stay submerged in water for, like, a long time. A week or something. He's doing this at New York's Lincoln Center, out in the plaza--or as most Americans know it, the place where Peter Venkman imitated that guy on roller skates by putting his arms out and spinning around after talking to Dana Barrett when she was with that other dude from the orchestra. I decided to meet up with Chan down there tonight to check it out. Click each pic to enlarge.

When I got there, it was still light out. (Note the blue, backwards Sox hat in the foreground. I totally didn't notice that until now.)

The bubble from the other side of the fountain.

Basically, people were allowed to go right up to the glass, wait til Blaine turned toward them, take their pictures, and move along. This girl seemed psyched. For kids, this was like going to the human zoo. Note water from the fountain on the right. I also love looking at all the upside-down reflections in the bubble. Here, at the top of it, you see the crowd of people, all upside-downed out.

Left: a lady on a ladder. Right: the bubble.

Left: lady on ladder, etc., etc.

Occasionally he'd take his mask off and his breathing tube out. And do stuff like this.

This shot is sweet. He'd get all distorted depending on your angle.

It's night now, adding to the coolness. A lot of people were saying, "This is stupid." Stupid or not, would you rather look at nothing, or a dude in a bubble of water?

Then we walked up the West, or Bizzaro, Side, ate Indian food, and due to Chan's usual lateness getting to Clement Center in the first place, I missed the whole Red Sox game. (Turned out to be a nice pressure-free win for me, just fining out the score afterward.) But we did see a dude eating alone in the Indian place who looked just like Varitek, and was wearing a white Red Sox hat. Then we walked across the park, where I took the usual shot of the midtown skyline:

Then, on the other side of the park, we noticed a street was blocked off. It was all lit up, like a movie was being shot. A kid who looked like Bubba Crosby and wearing a Dunbar cap guarded the street. We asked him what the movie was. He said "The Nanny Diaries." He told us Laura Linney and Paul Giamatti were in it. Psyched for the latter, we went around the block to the other side of the street to get a closer view. Here's the very cool effect of seeing a street artificially lit up at night (I even get excited when they have those bright lights on the highway that they use for night-construction.):



We watched a scene get filmed a few times. It featured no one we recognized. But then, who appears, but Scarlett Johansson. So now I was trying to get a picture of Scarlett. The crew-types said "no flash photography." So, between that and the fact that it was night, even with the artificial daylight, I only got one shot of her where you can even tell who it is. That's this one:

The end.

When doing comparisons between the works of the masterful English playwrights of the 15th century and the great screenwriters of the 1970s, it must be remebered that scholastic study plays a grandiose role in such untimely works of fiction combined with the nonfictional tradition of the Welsh countryside and, well, now that the yankee fans have clicked away to deadspin or whatever, I just thought I'd tell you that the yanks just put a bunch of tix on sale for next week's Red Sox series. So go snatch 'em up, Sox fans. Mainly upper deck stuff, but you can get 2 or 4 together. I'll be there Wednesday. Represent, or whatever, people. And then with the thesis and intellectuallism and what have you just for further hiding of the secret texts and scrolls.

Look for more on this and other literary topics soon as I slowly convert this blog into a forum for discussions on all things diftararian and scarborcious.

Not a big fan of that type of loss. Two on, no one out, bottom 8. No runs. Had a bad feeling after that. I think Mohr looked bad at the plate twice. Maybe just keep Nixon in there. I can't talk about this anymore. Nice shot of Kapstein tonight, though, when his cousin or whatever was pitching.

From the parts of the Dunbar game I saw, it would appear that Steinbrenner told the announcers to get yankee universe moral up by kissing the butts of Dunbar players at unnatural levels. There is more of Michael Kay's saliva on Mariano Rivera's ass right now than has ever been in his mouth at any one time. And the D-Rays frustrated me tonight, too, having a chance for a walkoff win, but losing in extra frames. (Note: I'm going to start using "yankee universe" as if it were a serious term that Dunbar fans actually use. It might be funniest that way. I just love it that they're trying to imitate us. Just trying to follow the lead of a winner. Ha.)

Enough about real baseball, let's get to the Wiffle Ball results.

Chan 002 000 332--10
Me 018 323 01x--18

WP: Me LP: Chan T: an hour (-ish?) A: 0

Any boob can see that bottom 3 was key here. The game was actually scheduled for five innings, so, technically, it was a 12-2 victory for the Me squad. But with that ten run lead, I agreed to give Chan as many innings as he wanted, what with it staying light out longer than we'd expected. Anyway, two 3-run bombs in the third put me in the lead to stay. I tacked on two more (and instituted an 8-run rule so things wouldn't get too out of hand) and cruised from there. I decided to experiment with a knuckler to start the game, and it turned out to be so effective, I stuck with it pretty much throughout, repeatedly baffling Chan batsmen.

I really considered bringing the camera to Central Park, to maybe take some shots of our little field. But I thought, Nah, that's boring. So I scrapped the idea at the last second. Sure enough, a piece of natural beauty struck Chan and I dumb after the game, and I had no way of documenting it. It was comfortable but overcast out, with the slightest of sprinkles falling intermittently. But as the sun went down, it peaked out enough so that the tops of the buildings along the park, on 5th Avenue, started glowing pink. But it didn't end there. Seemingly sprouting from the shining roofs, a rainbow started to appear. This was out over the "outfield" of our patch of dirt we called a baseball field. Left field. Then, looking out toward right field, we saw the other side of the rainbow appear. Finally, it fully connected on top. We stared for a while, trying to just enjoy it instead of kicking my proverbial self for not having the camera, imagining a time before cameras when there was no choice but just to enjoy something like this.

Then a middle-aged dude and woman came by with their very calm (aka the good kind) dogs. The dude asked if he could throw me some pitches. I knocked him all over the park for a while, and then we talked about how they liked the Mets, but moved from Boston in the early 80s and used to be Sox fans. But the key was that they hated the yanks, of course. He started saying, "Forgive me, but god damn the yankees!" It was cool.

Angels' pitcher John "Peter Brady" Lackey got into a fight with Oakland's Jason "Buddy Hinton" Kendall:

"Kendall wrestled Lackey to the ground with Halos catcher Jeff Mathis wrapped around his waist as the benches and bullpens cleared and piled on in the middle of the diamond."

Couldn't this have been avoided with calm, cool reasoning? Did Kendall make fun of Lackey's little sister for her lisp? Did Mr. Lackey go over to talk with Mr. Kendall, only to be told "boys will be boys"? Did Mrs. Lackey then have a chat with Mrs. Kendall and find out that she doesn't stick her nose into "man's business"? Did Mr. Lackey then teach John to fight but only to use it if reasoning didn't work?

Whatever the case, look for Alice to put a steak on Lackey's eye.

And if anyone has a picture of Buddy Hinton, please send it in. Inexplicably, his face is not plastered all over the web. I can't find one picture of Hinton. What a sick, sick world we live in.

Beckett, Josh against Blue Jays to-(Christopher)-knight.

Here are the versions of Mr. Dunbar I've recieved so far. There's still time to send in yours! (Please make sure you are the copyright holder of your picture.)

Joe McEwing, Scarsdale, Arizona

Tessie McGee, New York, UT

Jim Drinkwater, Squirrel Corners, MI

Leslie Jarrow, Squirrel Junction, Saskatchewan

Mick Ianswan, Hamfordshire, Sheffield, Londonton, UK

Actually, no one sent any in. So I just made my own.

Witch City recently made the following brilliant comment here:

"The booing shows Damon that his decision to go to New York has cost him more than he initially thought. I'm sure, over time, the booing won't be quite as vicious and he'll become accustomed to it. I just don't understand why anyone would be surprised about his reception last night. I pretty much imagined it to play out exactly as it did. A lot of fans made a huge emotional and financial investment in that player. The boos translate to a whole lot of hurt and I think it's totally fine for Johnny to feel what the nation felt the day he signed with them. You can label me "immature," "classless," "cry baby," "wuss," "dead horse beater" - I honestly don't care. I won't change my position on this."

This was in response to the general feeling from the "cheer Damon" side that we are letting our emotions run away with us, that we're making to much of this, that the baseball on the field is what's important, etc.

I'd just like to say that if feel that way, what were you doing on the day of the Rollong Rally? Sitting at home analyzing stats because baseball season was over at that point and all this celebrating is just silly?

I just mean that I have an attachment to my team. And you do, too. Without emotion, there would be no point in following a team at all. Why is it okay to jump up and down after a big win or be really pissed about a tough loss, but not okay to show my very real emotions toward one of the players? Or toward an entire team of dudes I absolutely can't stand?

I boo Damon. I don't want Clemens on my team. I wish Bronson was still here. My reasons for these things have everything to do with the fact that these are human beings, more than just names on a page.

I'm not telling people "how to be a fan." Just like no one's telling me "how to be a fan" for having a different opinion than theirs.

Moving on, the tarp's on the field. Hopefully they play ball. I just saw a great interview with Mirabelli. Mad Dog would've said he did a nice job there. Papelbon was named rookie of month, too.

Update: Game rained out. Terrible job.

Stretch time at Fenway. Tied up.

Dunbar announcers are talking about Small like he deserves a Nobel Peace prize.

Loretta robbed by Cano. Is there a Nobel Defense prize? Because now they're ready to give Cano one.

Ortiz out an a check swing grounder.

Manny, please take this guy deep. Kay has already said a ball can't go out tonight. Prove him wrong, children. Prove him wrong. 3-1 count. Here we go. 3-2. Walk.

Trot up. I want a double. Myers ready in bullpen.

Jeter can't catch pop. Manny hustles to third. Singleton mentioned it, Kay will not.

The "yankees suck" chant just overtook "Let's go Red Sox." And now the board goes back. Meanwhile, 3-1 on Lowell. Walk. Loaded.

Wily Mo. Small's a veteran, should be able to K him, but Wily's ready to hit. And he does, but the wind holds it up, as it has all night. Crap.

Timlin in. Facing Damon. Out. 0 for 4. Nice. Nick Smith's 3 for 4 prediction way fucking off. Jeter up. I love this wind when they're up. 0-2. Timlin wastes one, nice. 2-2 now. yankee fan Chan in kitchen, not very interested. 3-2 pitch: foul. 3-2 pitch again: Foul. 3-2 again (Singleton already suggesting he steals second, despite not being on base.): Come on, Timlin, horrible pitch. Ball four. Giambi, the king of walks now up. This guy never swings. Throw strikes. Called strike, 0-1. 1-1. The dugout should be yelling "He ain't swingin!" like in Little League.

Sweet play! Giambi did swing, grounded out second to first, throw to second, where Jeter rounded too far, and they tag his ass out! Gold.

I really want the type of win where you get the lead in bottom 8, and all of a sudden it's: 3 outs and we win. But I'll take a walk-off if I have to. Go Pap in the ninth regardless, Tito.

Okay, replay of last play: Dunbar announcers claim--on completely blind angle--that Jeter was definitely safe. Kay adds "he rarely argues a call, so he must've had so much conviction that he was safe." Why wasn't Tek pinch hitting for Doug, who just grounded out? Wake's out, Tito, get your head in the game. 3-0 on Cora. Walk. Maybe Small was confused since Cora and his catcher have the same face. Youk up. Guidry to mound. Probably talking about that autographed picture of his at New Fairfield, Connecticut's Than Long vietnamese restaurant. Harris pinch runs, drawing throws now. Dave Roberts comparison made by Dunnie announcers. Youk hit by pitch! Two on, one out. Ouch. Elbow. Sturtze in. I'm gonna go get more Coke. (Chan got some as part of a deal at Domino's. That's right, we had to get Domino's, because all the other pizza places were closed due to the immigration rally. Which I was all for--until I had to get Domino's instead of Delizia! Just kidding, still for it. I'm also all for the national anthem being sung in Spanish. Why the hell not? Seriously. What happened to "melting pot"? Terrible job by Bush for not supporting it. Damn, no time to get more Coke now because of all that writing. 1-0 on Nick Tortelli's girlfriend. Hey, Mirabelli and Loretta, together at last. Lots of Cheers-ish names on field ---Loretta single! 4-3 us! Harris does Roberts-ish slide into home. Myers in. So the yanks' pitchers tonight are My'/Small/Wang/'urtze. Ouch! And fittingly, after I wrote that, I looked up to see an ad for the "smaller Hummer."

Okay, Ortiz up against tonight's "other" traitor. 1-0. 2-0. Kay informs us Myers was booed on intro. Duh. 2-1. 3-1. 3-2.

Haaaaaaaaaaaa, Kay talks about wind all night, and Papi does it! Hits it out! Despite "Kay's wind," as it will be known from now on.... Papi! I love that man!

Mom just called, informed me that NESN showed an angle of that Jeter play which showed he was out! I'm wondering now YES did have a good angle, but refused to show it.

Now they're chanting John-ny really loud. Damon nearly in tears! This night is turning out like the perfect one in Groundhog Day. But since it's only May, we will wake up and Rita will be gone, SO, we must improve on what we've got and go all the way to the World Series. But, for now, I'll take this beautiful night.

And they went to Proctor...hey, Torre, when your small wang hurts, you don't go to the proctologist.

Papelbon in. Good thing a home run "can't be hit," with this tough part of the order up. Ha! Come on, Pap, get the job done, like Bacardi and cola. Strikes out A-Rod's ass! By the way, Papelbon caught Papi's HR in the bullpen, making it extra sweet. Matsui is 1 for his last 15. Guy giving Satan sign behind plate. Make it 1 for 16 on the pop out. Posada. Strike one. If it goes strike two, I can't type because I'll have to stand. Done. Win.

Photos by Reuters and AP.

Clarification for the Baseball Gods: I was showing how with Cairo and Crosby in the lineup, the yanks are a little weaker offensively, and that we should have a better chance of winning because of it. I wasn't making fun of their fielding. So I understand you making them make three great defensive plays so far, but please stop.

Also, Kay just said, and I'm not kidding, "...they call it chowda." He also said Eucker's line about waiting for the knuckleball to stop rolling, as if he was the first person to recite it. I think he's going for the Emmy tonight.

Johnny just got booed on the second AB, and Cairo made an out, and Crosby got on, but was thrown out stealing. Thanks for the correction, Gods.

1-0 us after 2 1/2.

God, I love this. Every year I get the goosebumps. (And I don't bring up the bumps named after geese unless I actually get them.) Listening to Michael Kay just babbling on and on and on leading up to the Damon introduction, I don't know, I could feel the one thing my personal rival and I have in common--we couldn't effin' wait for this. And to hear the booing, and see the money thrown on the field at Damon, and the "traitor" chant...just makes me so happy to be a part of this. This may sound weird, but I'm so glad the yankees exist. As mad as they make me sometimes, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Red Sox-yankees. Only the two sweetest words combined with the most nauseating one can create something so special.

Oh, and terrible job by Damon with that pre-planned helmet tip.

It's sunny and 67 degrees here in New York. I just figured Boston was the same. But now I find out that it's 47 there. There seems to be some kind of crazy weather system curling up and around and sitting on Boston. Even Mother Nature is booing Johnny Damon.

I heard before the season that the Hell No Network would have a show called "Batting Practice Today," starting an hour before Dunbar games. I'd never seen it until tonight. Did you know they actually have a three-camera production for this? They show the batter swing, then cut to the ball landing harmlessly in the outfield, or shagged by some relief pitcher. And some dude actually announces this.

That's right, I'm watching Hell No, because Extra Innings will black me out. I assume.

Bob Lorenz of the Dunbar pre-game (it's him and Justice, and they're sometimes referred to as Bob and David. They're a little less funny than Mr. Show was, though.) just did the intro, and claimed that "few men" can claim to have won a world title with the Boston Red Sox. How many teams have won more titles than the Red Sox? Two? So, relatively, compared to the total number of baseball players ever, a whole lot of men can say that. Unless he meant living men.

Cairo at first, Crosby in right, Wang on the hill for them. We should win this one. Let's hope.

I got Chan on the task of ordering and picking up the pizza. I'm all set. To sit around.

Michael Kay just gave this update: Damon booed a LOT in batting practice. And they showed a huge Judas Damon sign. This is gonna be fun.

Just one more warning before you head out to the park tonight:

Imagine this scenario: Damon is introduced. A huge percentage of the crowd starts cheering. Everyone joins in, stands and cheers. Damon tips his helmet, and lets a fake tear fall from his eye. He settles into the box.

A long fly ball...and it's gone. He rounds the bases, and jogs toward A-Rod, Jeter, Giambi, and Sheffield, and celebrates with those pieces of excrement. (Do you think he'd go and celebrate with the Sox dugout, or with you in the stands for having cheered him?)

The Fenway crowd is left standing, a bunch of "idiots," laughed at by all of "yankee universe." (an actual phrase used on T-Shirts, which Damon has been seen wearing, maybe even while driving around with his new Empire18 license plate.)

So, please, I beg you, do not cheer this man. Do not welcome Mr. Dunbar into your house, feed him and give him a place to stay, only to watch him have sex with your mom in the living room while you're standing their holding the empty hors d'oeuvres tray. The only real tears coming from Johnny will be if he is showered with boos. And it's hard to hit the ball with tears in your eyes!

Bonus wackystat of the day: The Red Sox will play Mr. Dunbar on four of the next six Tuesdays. "Tuesdays with Torre"-style. And word has it that Mirabelli will be back...tonight!

The following is a previous post of mine from shortly after Johnny Damon signed with the yanks. Then and now, it briefly sums up my feelings on the matter. I think it's appropriate for the day Johnny returns to Fenway Park. It, along with a subsequent post, included below, also clarifies--this one last time, I swear--why I refer to the team from the Bronx as "Mr. Dunbar." The one thing I've added is a rendering of what Mr. Dunbar looks like to me. Feel free to use this as your guide, or draw your own version of Mr. Dunbar and send it in to me. Then I can do a post of all the Dunbars I receive. Here's original post #1, from 12/22/05:
**********
Bob Ryan just doesn't get it. This article starts by telling Sox fans to give Johnny a standing O next season, prefacing it with the dreaded "show some class."

His reasoning seems to be: There was nothing unfair about what happened. (Yeah. So?) He was a really good player for the Red Sox. (Yeah. So?) Does he really think people are going to read his article and say, "Oh yeah...he was a good player. He did play by the rules. I'll cheer him as a member of the other team! I'll even cheer for his team to beat ours!"

Then he tries to compare this to Manny getting here the same way as Johnny left. As if Manny had been the star of the yankees before coming to the Red Sox.

Hey, Bob, your mom just divorced your dad and married the guy across the street--the one who used to molest you when you were little. But give credit where it's due. Give her a big hug. She always put food on the table for you, and she legitimately went through the divorce process and then had a nice legal wedding with Mr. Dunbar. She played by the rules. So show some fucking class when she and the new mister come over and have sex in your room.

Also, I had this fantasy that the yankee brass would end up wining and/or dining Damon here in NYC. And I'd find out where they were going and me and a hundred other Sox fans would go and hold up signs outside the window, telling him much we love him and want him to stay. And Johnny would give us all a wink over Cashman's turned back, letting us know he's just messing with the yanks. Then he'd sign with the Sox and we'd all live H.E.A.

It's just so disappointing how it went down. He didn't even see if the Sox could give him a better offer. (Note: any Red Sox offer would include clearance to grow hair on any part of the body if that's what one wanted, and fans who all already treat him like a god instead of ones who won't want him anyway because he stands against everything they represent.) It was just, "You wanna play for us?" "'Kay."

Very sad.

Note to homophobes: Go two paragraphs up for me talking about Damon winking at me! Gimme what you got! You may even impress some other homophobes and you could arrange to not hang out with them. Ever.

*********
Post #2, from 12/30/05:

Ever since I compared the yankees to the mythical "Mr. Dunbar" in [the above] post, I've been thinking: The yankees should be referred to as simply "Mr. Dunbar" on this blog, effective immediately.

So, let's try it out, using a sample conversation between person A, who we'll call "Me," and person B, who we'll call "Chan":

Me: What up, C-Sekshin?

Chan: Hey.

Me: I'll be going up to Boston this weekend.

Chan: You gonna see a game?

Me: Yeah, Mr. Dunbar's in town for three.

Chan: You better watch out, Mr. D's got another murderer's row this year.

Me: Eh. Mr. Dunbar's overrated.

Chan: You going to any games at Mr. Dunbar's house this year?

Me: I should, I do live in his neighborhood.

Chan: Nice. Well, I gotta go watch "Lazy Sunday" for the hundredth time.

Me: I'll join you.

********************

I'm so anti-cheer for tomorrow night, I've already come up with some excuses to use in case he actually does get cheers:

1. Group mentality.

2. When a portion of the crowd cheers, the booing only adds noise, making it seem like everyone is cheering. (See Clemens' "last" game at Fenway.)

3. The cheer side can add height and therefore visibility to its side by standing and raising their arms. The boo side can't sit any lower than they already are.

Remember these, because some Red Sox fans, I've learned, although I still can't believe it, will cheer for the New York yankees' leadoff hitter Monday night. But I'm hoping the boo people will not give in, and will try to out-boo the cheers. I also don't get this one: "I'll cheer him the first time for what he's done, but I'll boo from then on." Uh...why does he need the one extra set of cheers? You knew he was on the last year of his contract in 2005. You had so many chances to cheer him then for all he'd done. I know I took advantage of that opportunity. Guys like Millar, sure, they'll get a polite cheer from me as an Oriole. But to cheer a yankee? Not gonna happen. Not from me, anyway. If you're gonna do it, that's your call (with Lynn Doyle). But if it is, I, like, hope you don't have a ticket for tomorrow.

After Friday, my take on things was, "We've lost three crappy games in a row, but the yanks lost on two of those days, so we'll be okay."

Which kind of worked out on Saturday, with that comeback (thanks, D-Rays) win. I watched that one down at Professor Thom's, but I didn't see any of my internet friends there. I'm still trying to figure out what the plan is with that starting rotation, what with our second-highest payroll team sending DiNardo to the mound every fifth day. And usually when Manny doesn't run out a ball, and a guy ends up bobbling it, he gets to see that he would've been safe had he hustled. But maybe he'll finally learn his lesson after Saturday, when not running all out actually cost him a home run, since the ball bounced away from the fielder in the outfield, resulting in what should have been an inside-the-park job.

Today, stupid Rudy Seanez forgets about wasting a pitch, and it costs us the game. But then I find out that Schilling did the same thing earlier (I'd missed the first part of the game). 0-2 pitch--HR. Terrible job. I don't know how any major league pitcher ever makes that mistake.

So now we go into the Dunbar series percentage points behind them. But we like that underdog role, he told himself.