The cleansing feeling of a win after a couple of barf-worthy losses to the Yanks.

I love that Manny was thinking opposite field with the go-ahead run on third and one out. And that run was all we needed. Dice, Oki, Pap--great job. An '07-ish win. We're back to being 4 back, with the Yanks 8.5 out.

If you haven't seen it yet, I have a new blog going for my book, Dirty Water. Check it out and see the quote we just got from Stewart O'Nan, who wrote Faithful with Stephen King.

Desk job got you down? It may be hard work, but remember, you're really just sitting there.

And here's another one for you: Did you ever think about how some website you'll eventually discover and visit every single day is already there, you just haven't discovered it yet? Think of this as your pre-whatever that site is era.

Even a blind, choking, phony squirrel who hasn't won a squirrel championship in 8 years despite always having the highest payroll in squirrel-ball finds a nut once in a while.

Now Tito, I usually defend you against the idiot callers on talk radio, but when you make egregious errors like taking out Wakefield when he's pitching great and resting Manny when Papi's already out against the Yanks, I have to say something. Manny needs a day off? He's got one Thursday. And a few more a few days later for the All-Star break. Am I the only one who thinks this is plenty for a healthy professional athlete? You wanna give days off, give 'em to Lugo. Still, Manny could've swung the bat when he did come in.

I'm not even going to mention all the errors Joe Morgan made tonight. Or all the other Yankee crap and Yankee fan crap from tonight, just because I don't want to those 9-games out emmer-effers right now.

You've all seen it by now. The amazed young Red Sox fan who had a front row seat--literally--to the most jaw-dropping--also literally--play of the year. But it turns out that Aaron Huberfeld, of Buryhamshire, Mass., had his mind on other things.

"People kept saying they saw my reaction, and I had no idea what they meant," says Aaron, a 14-year old who was just voted into his town's fly-fishing Hall of Fame.

He didn't know because he wasn't reacting to the game. Although he can decipher light at certain levels, Aaron is blind.

"I was a bowling prodigy as a toddler. After my third perfect game, I was posing for a photo shoot in front of the pins. A rival prodigy got jealous and ran into the picture and shoved me. Not hard, I mean, it was no big deal, we knew he was a hot-head. But I happened to fall back into the pins, and the racking mechanism came down. Next thing I knew I was in the hospital, and it was like totally dark."

And it was his blindness that got him to Yankee Stadium on the Fourth of July.

"I'm not even a big baseball fan. But my school was lucky enough to be chosen by A-Rod's people. I guess he needed a disabled kid to be a part of some staged..."

His mother quickly cuts him off. Regardless of the motive, Rodriguez brought Aaron, his sister, Kira, his brother, Charlie, and his mother and father, both periodontists, down to New York for the weekend. And the seats they got would give them more air-time than any staged...well, whatever it is A-Rod has in store to take people's minds off his marital woes.

But Aaron still couldn't understand how people saw his reaction which wasn't to the play in front of him, but to a conversation he was having with his sister at the time.

"She had mentioned how the Yanks had brought up a guy named 'J. Christian.' I said, Wow, like the outfielder whose name is mentioned on the baseball game on the radio in one of the beach scenes from Jaws. Then we realized Alex Rodriguez had the same first name as the boy who gets eaten early in the film, Alex Kitner. Then you've got Mike Mussina--one of the chief's kids was Michael. Then I said, 'Next thing you know, they'll sign Ben Gardner.' At that moment, Kira started looking through the scorebook. She found that the Yanks had just called up a 'B. Gardner.'"

That's when Aaron's jaw fell open.

"That's what I was thinking. That I couldn't believe the Jaws coincidences. And the fact that the 4th of July is so central to the plot made it that much crazier. I finally figured out my reaction to it was in the background of this crazy play. Which, of course, I couldn't see."

Aaron explains he was standing because "I have to stand, it helps me hear the action and it allows me to follow along a little better."

When asked how he can be sure that the Damon play happened at the moment of the Jaws/Yanks revelation, Aaron said, "it had to be. The only other time my jaw dropped like that was in the first inning, when my sister told me the two guys below us had identical, gray, patriotic Mickey Mouse T-shirts on. I still can't believe that one."

Incredibly, after the play, Damon had to leave the game, only to be replaced by, that's right, "B. Gardner."

Loaded, no out, needing a run. Gotta score there.

What are the odds a coin flip lands heads? Fifty percent. Tails? Fifty percent. But on that one flip in a million, it'll land on its edge. At least that's what the 8:00 PM episode of The Twilight Zone told me tonight. When the folks at the Sci-Fi Channel were planning this year's July 4th TZ marathon chose to put that episode on in the ultimate prime time slot, I'm sure they had no idea how relevant the choice would be.

On a fly ball to the fence, sometimes the ball will go over. Sometimes it won't. But on that one time in a million, it will sit there, precariously balanced on top of the fence. That was the case at Yankee Stadium today. Kevin Youkilis hit a long fly that Johnny Damon leaped for at the wall. It went into, then out of his glove, before bouncing on the top of the fence. It landed there, bounced up again, then landed and stayed. All this while the fence is moving back and forth, having been slammed into by the left fielder. After an extremely long half-second or so, thanks to one final wall reverberation, the ball fell onto the warning track. Youk ended up with a game-tying triple, and Damon left the game, injured.

Lowell's three-run dong gave the Sox a 6-3 lead. After a long rain delay, the Yanks almost had a 1900s-style comeback. Papelbon entered the game up 6-4 in the ninth, and with two outs, he got a fly ball to center. Coco came in and made a great diving catch. The umpire ruled "I missed it"--er, "trapped ball," and suddenly the ten Yankee fans who actually stayed thought maybe the mystique and aura they've heard about from past generations (i.e. bullshit) was back! But, no, the Red Sox proved once again who the gods are shining down on in the modern era, as the tying run flied deep to center. You know I love it when the Yanks fall just short. Especially at home, against us. And mega-especially when their fans get some kind of false hope that maybe, just maybe, things are starting to go their way once again and that the magical, finicky curse will finally settle on their side.

So we remain three back in a race it's too early to care about, and six up in one that always matters to me. Happy birthday, George.


[A note about the video: Yes, it's funny when Michael Kay makes the "holy shit" call only to be wrong. (See the "triple play!" in the Pokey Reese game.) But what's more funny to me about his call is how he excitedly yells "runners go" on the pitch, before quickly realizing it's a 3-2, 2 out situation, when runners literally always go, provided they're on first or have another runner behind them, and makes a weak recovery attempt by casually adding, "3-2...," as if to say, "...as they normally would on 3-2...")]

[And check out this game, wouldja?]

Did you all see Girardi with his fake anger last night? He even called a meeting. (Read: Look, Hank, see how we know beating the Red Sox is the most important thing?)

As usual, people will talk about how the games lack what they once had a few years ago--but to me the most fun and exciting part of the rivalry is watching the Yanks get embarrassed, have distractions, and, you know, shit the bed. So this year is fun, fun, fun, like we thought it would be. Gotta keep it going today.

I tried to tell everybody how the Yanks had one of their all time classic cheap wins the night before, scoring runs without the benefit of hits, and Texas handing them the game on a silver platter. Instead, NESN viewers were told of the Yanks' "offensive explosion." What a joke. So that's why it was extra-cool that we shut their asses out last night.

The best way to end a losing streak is with a complete game shutout over the Yanks on the road. Lester was awesome. Our starting pitching for the most part has been great, it's just too bad we couldn't have won even two of those last five games. But we're going to the playoffs either way, so it doesn't really matter.

You don't usually get really easy wins like that in The Bronx. And we've got Beckett against Rasner tomorrow at 1.

We're 3 out of first, the Yanks are 8 out.

And it's New Year's in July, as the Twilight Zone marathon has begun!

I just bought some old Cuban baseball publications. They have pictures and results from the world baseball championships. Stuff like that. They're from the 60s and 70s. I opened the first book and almost immediately found this picture:

That's right, it's Mike Lowell's dad, Carlos Lowell. Pictured on the Puerto Rican national team at the '71 games in Cuba.

Soon I'll post more pics from these cool books.

If you're still not reading Cardboard Gods, get on board now, please. Part of the Baseball Toaster site, CG is written by a Sox fan, Josh Wilker. Each piece is centered on a baseball card from his childhood (the 70s). But even if you never collected cards or aren't a baseball fan at all, you should enjoy the site if you like thoughtful, often mind-blowing writing. Today's entry is incredible.

Some nice A-Rod marital troubles to cheer us all up. Let's see if that wife of his will be strong and finally walk away. (But for the sake of Yankee distractions, C-Rod, please stick around!)

I was all pissed off and about to write a long post about my pissed-off-ed-ness, but then I got a laugh.

After writing on Joy of Sox that I hope DeWayne Staats "gets hit by a car twice," an anonymous commenter went to my Dirty Water blog and asked if my publisher knows that I go around spouting threats of violence and that that's "illegal" and "taken seriously." Hahaha. Hoping someone gets hit by a car twice DOES NOT constitute a "threat of violence." I can hope the president gets hit by a car twice, and I can shout it from the top of the Tropicana Dome. I only hope my publisher is aware of the pride I take in my right to completely non-threatening freedom of speech. As well as my comic stylings (that's where the "twice" comes in--if you REALLY want someone to get injured, one car would suffice, get it?) I'm wondering if the person thought, since I spoke of "hoping the Devil Rays come to Fenway in October" (meaning to get their asses beat in the playoffs), followed by the car thing, that I'm somehow waiting with my car at Fenway Park to run over DeWayne Staats when he arrives.

I also have the right to call the Rays by their TRUE name, the DEVIL Rays, without ever having to pay a fine. Devil Rays. Devil Rays. Devil Rays. Devil Rays. Devil Rays.

Anyway, what got me really pissed was the few bars of Sweet Caroline that played after the shitty Devil Rays swept us. I just don't get it. Why do they want us for a rival? We're not a hate-able team. We went 86 years without a title. Now we've won two in four years. If they're looking for the team that's won on average every four years for the last hundred, they're looking in the wrong place. Is it the Sox fans in their park? Is it our fault that the Devil Rays fans, should they exist, never showed up until the team was good? And that we were loyal enough fans to go all the way down there just to root of our team? EVEN WHEN THEY HADN'T WON IN 86 YEARS? They should learn something about loyalty from that. Worry about your own lack of passion, and if you need an enemy, the Yanks are right there waiting. All the Red Sox did was finally beat the Yanks in the coolest fashion, to the delight of sane people everywhere, all while being the fun-lovingest team ever.

I mean, let's take the '92-'93 Blue Jays. They won two in a row. I don't remember going to Fenway and seeing the Sox play the Jays and thinking, We MUST beat the Jays! They're our "rival"!!! Let's mock them by playing a song from their stadium!!! I mean who the fuck cares, right? As long as the Yanks aren't winning, everything's jake.

This is like in the early 90s, when my Nebraska Huskers used to kick the crap out of Colorado every year. Finally, Colorado "decided" that we were their "rival." And you know what happened? We still kicked their asses tear after year.

And so that's how I started hating the Devil Rays. Screw 'em. Dead to me. I had been excited to see them finish ahead of the Yanks, especially since the Steinbrenners are based in Tampa. And I'll still root for them against the Yanks, of course. But if they wanna be dicks, we're gonna have to treat 'em like dicks....or something. No mercy. Like I said in my "threat" comment: I hope they have to play us in October.

And I hope Eric Wilbur appreciates Fenway a little more after watching the last three games. Cowbells, catwalks, and carpet. Now THAT's baseball, right?

But more about winning and the hatred that often accompanies it. I'm an underdog fan. A lot of people are. And a lot of teams that win a lot are gonna be hated by us underdog fans. But my god, I still judge the team based on what they are. The Lakers of a few years ago--Shaq, Kobe...screw 'em. But the '86 Bears--sunglasses, headbands, anti-authority shit. As a 10 year old, I ate that stuff up. The '78 Yanks? Pure evil. The '79 "We Are Family" Pirates? Fun!

Of course, some franchises build up a legacy of hatred. The Cowboys, Notre Dame, the Yanks. Are the Red Sox one of those type teams? Not unless we win ten more championships in the next 30 years or something. And still, it was often said about those 90s Yankees teams that "you can't hate THESE Yankees" and that they "weren't your father's Yankees" and that because Joe Torre wasn't the son of the devil, we somehow weren't supposed to hate them. While I happened to think this was a load of utter bullshit, people still said it. So the '04-'07 Red Sox--come on! We're a likeable bunch with no history of winning all the time that the Yanks have. So I don't get it. The Cubs--what am I supposed to do about them? Am I supposed to love them, love them, love them, and then BOOM, right when they win, start hating them? I don't think so. They haven't won in 100 years--what's hate-able about that, even if they win the next three? And if suddenly Cubs fans are filling Fenway Park, well, I'll know that's our own damn fault for not BUYING TICKETS TO OUR OWN PARK, which is what all these other teams should be doing.

I blame society. Like I was talking about recently, people only seem to remember what JUST happened. So in these other-baseball-team fans' minds, the Red Sox do win all the time. So I got Yankee fans in one ear tellin' me we're down 26 to 7, and Devil Rays fans in the other tellin' me we always win and they never win. And I have commenters telling me that when I talk about the Yanks, I'm obsessed with them and I should care about my own team, but when I talk about my own team, I'm accused of being "center of the universe"-ish.

And just to throw another dick-wrench into my shitty night, the Yanks have a classic Yankee win. I mean, seriously, if you wanna see the average Yankee game for the last thirty years, go to mlb.tv and watch the archived game. I'm talkin' loading the bases on no hits, and then scoring a run on a walk. Bloop broken bat doubles. Inning-ending double plays botched by the other team. The other team finally getting the lead but then putting some guy who looks like a Muppet version of Chucky on the mound who'd never pitched before, with no one warming behind him, and watching him implode. At that point, the Yanks actually had 6 runs on 4 hits, but they finally broke through against the minor league Muppet, winning, I don't know, 35-7 or something. If you think I'm exaggerating about how the Yanks got their runs (up until they pulled away off Chucky McMuppet), watch the game.

So....Devil Rays, you asked for it. If you're still around at the end, you're goin' down. We have this guy called Papi who usually plays, too.

Now we go on to The Bronx. We can't possibly keep having the tying run up or on base in the ninth and barely lose AGAIN...right?

Edited to add: I just saw a highlight of Rays fans holding up a sign saying "Red Sox Nation has been overtaken." Sar cas tic slow clap... having more of your own fans in your own park is what you're supposed to do, stupid. I meant to mention this earlier, but why isn't NESN pointing out to the casual fan that it's a weekday series? I think we have as many fans as we always do on a mid-week July series in Tampa--it's just that the Devil Rays fans are filling in the 20,000 seat that are normally empty anyway. And besides, from what I saw on TV, the crowd was STILL seemingly all wearing red. If the Rays bring 100 fans to Fenway next time they play us up here, then we'll be impressed.


PS. I guarantee you DeWayne Staats hopes Red Sox fans get hit by cars twice every day...

I don't check the lowest common denominator sites, so I apologize if this has been brought up, the video shown, the guy interviewed, etc. But I couldn't help but notice the guy in the crowd giving the finger last night. Today, when I saw that the replay of the game was in the ninth, I got my camera and snapped a shot of the TV. (I was surprised they hadn't edited it out.) So, here's the bird-man of St. Pete:



Sox against the Beelzebub Beams again tonight--'zaka vs. 'zmir.

Hank's latest complaint.

The official fugitive on the loose case of RSF/PT is over. Sam Israel, after stealing hundreds of millions of dollars from people, has turned himself in after his fake suicide and escape attempt. Hopefully the 20-year sentence he was trying to avoid becomes 40!

Thunder and lightning, thunder and lightning. All we get around here. And I kinda love it.

I'll have to put up my recent photos of killer skies. Oh, and you know who else I have a picture of? Mike Lowell's dad. I don't think any exist on the internet yet. I'll post that here soon.

4. Al Smith. (1926)


The most intriguing players in the Baseball Encyclopedia are the guys who only played in one game. On June 15th, 1926, the New York Giants signed 22-year old right-handed pitcher Al Smith, who'd just helped Villanova University to a 19-3 record under head coach Charles McGeehan. He wasn't the only college boy to be picked up by the Giants. On June 19th, 1926, The New York Times' Harry Cross wrote of the previous day's New York-Pittsburgh game:


The game took on a decidedly intercollegiate atmosphere before the afternoon was over. John McGraw just at present has a decided complex for the educated ball player. The Polo Grounds is all cluttered up with young men who can scan Greek verse, throw a problem in calculus, tear off a bit of Sanscrit or tell you just what's wrong with the universe. But are they also baseball wise? That's the riddle. Pete Cote, just out of Holy Cross, went in as a pinch hitter on his first day with the club. Al Smith, who took curving the baseball as part of his curriculum at Villanova, pitched a couple of innings. Neither of the students had his mind completely off his books.


Smith pitched the seventh and eighth against the defending World Champion Pirates that day, giving up two runs and four hits, and walking two. (Boxscore pictured.) He was pinch-hit for in the bottom of the eighth by Travis "Stonewall" Jackson, who was making his return from a month-long absence to due a "wounded knee." Jackson would play another decade, eventually being voted into the Hall of Fame. Al Smith would never play in another major league game.

Smith was one of several players given a brief chance by McGraw that June, before being thrown on the scrap heap. The captain of Al's Villanova team, Joe Connell, appeared in two games for New York, too, and Pete Cote only played in one more after the game described above. The '26 Giants, two years removed from winning four straight pennants, would quickly fall out of the race, finishing in the second division for just the second time in the modern era. They wouldn't win another league title until another Al Smith came along.


Al K. Smith died 13 years ago, at the age of 91, in San Diego, California.

Previous Smiths: #3, #2 & #1.

Labels: SOBs

Yo soy frustrated. That happens when you have the tying run in sight in the ninth, like, every night and all these other chances to tie throughout the night, and your pitchers pitch well enough to win again and again.

But note that my frustration has nothing to do with the fact that the team we've just lost two in a row to are just ahead of us in the standings. We're not even at the All-Star break yet. Besides, I'll take a low-scoring loss over a high-scoring one.

The only team I care about year-round besides the Sox is the Yanks. A loss by them always seems to make everything okay again. And guess what just happened minutes ago? Damon makes the final out, after a double play ball when they should've been sacrificing, which came after Mariano gave up the go-ahead run in the top of the ninth. Nice.

So, the other day, former Yankee announcer and current curmudgeonly voice of the DEVIL Rays DeWayne Staats spouted some bullcrap about MLB only caring about the Yankees and Red Sox. Because we Sox fans all have lived these charmed lives where our team has won the World Series almost every season for as long as we remember. I fucking wish we had had some of these so-called advantages for the first 30 years of my life, and the 50 before that. Ass hole.

Also, catwalks.

Madonna and A-Rod?

Redsox.com just put up the Coke section (left field pavilion reserved) seats for all of September and for the upcoming homestand. (And the last weekend of August vs. Chicago.) Pairs if you want 'em. 75 each. Or 200 each from the scalper sites. Your choice.