Friday, September 30, 2005


See No Evil

Whew. *wipes brow* Now THAT is what we need from our bullpen, from here on out. I've felt all year that our team has not been collectively playing up to their abilities. It's as if they're taking turns on the field. I hear they lead the league in offense, and I wonder HOW, as I think of the games we have lost for lack of a hit here or there... But all that matters little now. One hundred and sixty games have been played this year, and they might as well not have happened at all, as the season comes down to these LAST TWO.

We need to WIN. and WIN!

Today we had enough to win. Still we are not hitting anything like a "league leading offense". Maybe you all brought your own bats tonight boys, but some of you need to remember how to use them. But keep workin' the count, mind you... those walks really saved our proverbial ass tonight.

I was nervous today, and the uneasiness grew as the sun crept over toward the west. Occasionally my hand would reach toward my throat... clutching at a necklace. My lucky necklace, I think of it sometimes. I found it by chance eleven years ago, on the pavement of a gas station, somewhere in the miles and miles of starbucks and stripmalls of Chicago-area suburbia. It's not fancy or delicate - it might have survived the tires of many a car, who knows; it's just a cord of black leather with a blackened brass pendant: a see-no-evil monkey. Yes, I thought it appropriate, lucky or not.

I just might wear it all weekend. For I wish to see no evil. I shall need the aid of the ARMS this weekend, I imagine, for this to happen. Boy, that would be refreshing, eh? Some good pitching? Of course recently we've come to expect nothing less than excellance from Timmy at least, and we shall need every bit of it tomorrow. I wonder if there's a raindance-like routine for the type of wind we need for the good flutter tomorrow... I might just have to make one up, people.

As I write this, the White Sox have taken the lead at Jacobs Field. And I hope to see no evil on the rubber in the bottom of the thirteenth, as the whiteys are considerate enough to bring out their actual closer, even though they clinched the division yesterday. And despite giving up a homerun, they git 'er done, and Boston and the skanks now hold the division AND wild card leads between them. Sadly, if we manage to sweep this series, it would be too late to root for Cleveland, as they play at 1:05 on Sunday. So we'll just have to hope the White Sox keep on tryin'.

I know its wrong, but I keep on hoping for that last-minute STUFF, that final denial of the play-offs for the skanks, after the hopes of their fans have risen so high... Look, I'm tellin' ya, this is not just a typical yank-hating sox-bullshit spite. This is about KARMA. I don't go around throwin' the ALCS in the faces of skank fans I know - and I know MANY. Sure I might wear my ALCS t-shirts, have a chuckle here and there at the issues they have had this season, and yes, I do tend to grin evilly when the word choke comes up (that one I really can't help at all)... but it's not like I go out of my way. Not like the people who have made a special point to CALL ME ON THE PHONE FOR NO OTHER REASON THAN TO INFORM ME OF THE STANDINGS IN THE AL EAST. As if I didn't know. In the past ten years, these people have grown far too big for their britches. It's nice (and frankly amazing) that they've had to tune in for some of the regular season this year... but I still hold out some hope that that is all they get. Because there are three teams fighting for two spots, and right now all three teams have a pretty equal shot at that early tee time... So why not the skanks? I continue to hope, and if hoping is wrong, I don't wanna be right.

Of course, I suppose I have enough on my plate, just cheering on my boys. It really is more important that they get one of those two spots.

and to ensure this, we must win.

Just WIN, boys. AND WIN!!!

Thursday, September 29, 2005


Season on the Line

Papi saves the day yet again, and with the help of the young Pappy. I call him (Jon-boy) that, by the way, because his fiancée told Jere and I that he has "Pappy" tattooed on his arm. And with what he's been giving us lately, the boy deserves to be called whatever he likes. Clutch is a serious understatement for both of these guys, and of course to be included in that sentence with Papi is quite the honor.

where would we be without Papi?

Pictured on the right is a t-shirt made for me by the good witch back in June. I put this t-shirt on tonight, just as Papi came to the plate sometime in the middle of the game. It's an iron-on thing... rather fragile. I've washed it once, and let's just say it didn't fair too well. I won't be doing that again. And so I put it on when we are in dire need of the Papi mojo... and when the game is over, I take it off, fold it in on itself, and keep the mojo preserved for another day. Thank you much, WCSG. Thanks to Papi's mojo tonight (and indeed, on many other nights this year) we just may be taking in a game together next week.

Of course, in order for THAT to happen (as in, the ALDS "home game 2" WCSG & I will be attending together) we need to WIN. and WIN. and WIN! That's (count them) THREE WINS. Not necessarily three wins in a row... but that sure would make things easier, boys... seeing as there's only three games left in the regular season.

The two games before tonight had all but crushed my spirit. I want to believe, but sometimes our boys make it hard, don't they? On paper we have a talented team. But the games aren't played on paper. The entire season has been exasperating for us, the faithful... for it seems like only a few of our players want to show up at the same time. Think back with me... how many games did it seem like we ought to have won? Sure, baseball is like that. But for us, this year, TOO MANY. At this point I can only shake my head, sadly. For I am a sports fan. With this kind of performance, a team does not really deserve to be in the post-season. And still, we have a shot. It may be a long shot, but it's there nonetheless. And we ride into it with momentum, thanks to Papi.

Even if just for Papi's sake, I plead with fate to bring us into the play-offs. He deserves the MVP. He has carried this team on his broad shoulders, night after night. Everyone knows what he has done, and yet if we don't make it... they will award it to prince purple-lips. This I cannot bear to see.

This is a call to our boys in red & white: It is time to rise up and play like you mean it! No more of this sharing of three bats among you; Everyone must bring THEIR OWN BAT to the park tomorrow! It is time for our arms to show up at full strength! Come with ALL your pitches tomorrow, Boomer - don't even think about leaving that curve at home - and on a full stomach, mind you; We shall have no distractions this weekend. Play each of these games as if it may be your last... because you know, it just might be. Of course, I know you boys will stay loose. Don't forget that it's a game, and it's ok to have some fun... Don't forget that this is YOUR HOUSE. This is where you play your very best baseball, and boys, it's time... time to play your VERY. BEST. BASEBALL.



Read this only if you care about my personal life...

Things have been a bit crazy in the Reb Sox household this past week. Many things I have wanted to blog about, and just have not had time. Here's the FYI: My parents are getting divorced, I have been living with them, the house goes on the market tomorrow, and I need to find a new place to live. I had linked to this stuff on my other blog a few weeks ago, but it seems not everyone saw it, and jeez not that I think most of you would care, but I have been accused of with-holding information.

First off, don't even think about feeling sorry for me. I have been living rent-free for nearly two and a half years. I am thirty years old. This is a tad irresponsible, don't you think? Anyway, I have supported myself before, and I will again soon. So now I need to decide where to live. This is somewhat tricky as I just might be moving again in less than a year. (what a pain in the ass) I am not particularly fond of Connecticut, and have in fact been living here to be close to my family. But if you've ever looked at the rent prices in this area, you may see why this does not seem worthwhile to me. Sure, I have a business, which can be hard to relocate... but I ran that business in NH before I moved here, and in truth have more connections there, not to mention friends, and frankly, a better quality of life. So I've pretty much decided that's where I'm going. And I think it's going to make my life a lot easier, in the end, because my man lives up there. He's so great about things, really, but gets antsy when it gets too long between visits, if you know what I mean. So in short... I'm moving back to NESN country... after the season ends. Fat lot of good that's going to do.

Anyway, putting the house on the market means there's been a lot of work to do around here. Painting, cleaning, packing (because even though it'll be two months at least before a closing, things need to look "sparse" for the showings) straightening, touching up, generally prettifying - you get the picture, right? It's been busy. Seriously, my niece was born a week ago, and I still have only seen her once. And there's still a bit of last-minute vacuuming to do, but the push is basically over, and I can start allowing myself to do other stuff again.

Like blog about football. Because my passion has finally re-awakened, this past Sunday, which is frightfully late for me, by the way. Usually I'm jumping into the spirit, chomping at the bit for the first pre-season game, in late July. Frankly, I was starting to get worried... feeling like maybe there was something wrong with me - like where is the real rebecca, and how the hell did someone do something with her without ME noticing?! So yeah, I had lots to say about this past week, which of course I won't bother with, since it was now so friggin' long ago, the memories have indeed now seen it's first flakes of dust. But get ready to see some football on here in the future, and not a moment too soon, as the day is looming when it seems I may have nothing else to blog about here... perhaps as early as Monday morning.

Also, as I have been meaning to do for quite some time, I need to get some new link lists up. Football, obviously, must be addressed - Cardnilly has reminded me that it might be nice to have some links up for other baseball teams' blogs, and I may as well do that now while I still remember what those are - and also some general sporting stuff... Sheriff Sully, for example, which originally attracted me with this offending article, has turned out to be rather amusing, and refreshingly positive for someone who is actually involved in the Boston media. And speaking of Boston media, how long have I been meaning to take my official stand against the filthy big dog? Since I never even bother to visit that worthless page, I always forget. So I'll have to stop by and charge myself up. So yeah, all of that coming soon, I promise. In the meantime, if it's football you want, make sure you stop by here.

Sunday, September 25, 2005


Have a Little Faith

There were moments in both games yesterday that made me leave the room; our luck has been so terrible this year that I could not bear to see more. After Hansen's little "welcome to the majors" wake-up call, I drove to the liquor store to purchase a new bottle of Jack in honor of Kevin Millar. Upon return, Millar had been replaced, and I watched Olerud with two men on take a swing to end the inning.

It is a tenuous time in Red Sox Nation. Many have wondered how last season's success would affect us. Up until this year, our expectations based on historic trends were that we would "choke", if you will, and yet still we believed... Now that word choke has taken on new definition; our recent times have given us tangible reason to expect success. It has been proven that there is hope, even at the darkest hour.

Our situation right now is not bleak at all. We are tied for first place. The team we are racing with has one game left at home, today, and finishes their season with seven on the road. Our schedule is the opposite, and our one road game is at Camden, commonly referred to as "Fenway South". And yet I see we are guarding our hearts. Some of my fellow fans have already thrown in the towel, others look on with feigned indifference, and some refuse to watch at all.

Why are we suddenly afraid to believe?

I admit I am not as confident as I would like. Being tied is a bit scary... We had grown so comfortable with a lead. Still I am not sure that comfort is the desirable state at this time of year. The do-or-die mentality sharpens the performance of the best, pushing them to the top of their game. And this is exactly where we want our boys to be by next Sunday: On top of their game, and ready for more.

Edit: Still tied, and going home. Other than Gary Sheffield's head on a platter, what more could you ask for?

Friday, September 23, 2005


A Pox on You Gloom and Doom-sayers

That's how we're being portrayed, people. We are behind by ONE GAME, and some are already claiming the season as LOST.

In a way, I can understand. The way our team has been playing this week makes you wonder what planet the aliens who have taken over the bodies of our players are from, and how much baseball they actually watched before they went ahead with this brilliant body-snatching scheme, and what kind of substance king georgie is paying them in to do this, and whether he discovered interstellar communication from the devil himself or our american president (Oh, wait; is there a difference?). The way we've seen our boys play lately, it's easy to wonder if they'll win any of the ten remaining games. Likewise, the way the breaks have been going for the yanks... I wonder if they ever miss their souls?

Last night, the insufferable Michael Kay further cushioned the confidence of his audience (which for some unexplained reason had dramatically increased, seemingly overnight) by discussing with his cohort, Jim Kaat, what had and had not been done in the past at this point in the season, regarding the division lead. Despite the 7-1 lead held by the skanks at the time, hearing this amused me to no end. I guess I was not the only one to notice this, as it was pointed out in today's Boston Globe:

And the unspoken text, one revered by every Red Sox fan, even those fretting at their team's predicament with just 10 games to play, is that after last October, the Yankees should be very careful about invoking precedent. Yes, as e-mailer Debbie Lincoln noted yesterday, the Yankees could indeed ''revoke the choke," but they'll have to come through Boston to do so.

"Revoke the choke" *giggle* Debbie, this can not be done. The yanks just might pull it out this year, which would certainly be an amazing feat heavily bolstered by the failures of the red sox to play up to their abilities, but never in the long future of professional sports will we ever see the equal to what happened last year. As much as yankee fans like to pretend it never happened, well it did, and denial will not take it back, nor will one division title.

Anyway, I fully believe the season is still in the capable hands of our boys, if they can only show up to the field. The recent trends among the sox and yanks cannot be sustained. The season is far from over, people, and I for one look forward to an exciting week of baseball with new vigor. And, on a personal note, which most of you will not care one twit about, I am an aunt, for the second time, today. Clearly this is a day of new life. Nothing that happens in Baltimore or the Bronx can tarnish it.

Thursday, September 22, 2005


Skankee Fans Can't Make Me Panic

But they CAN make me nauseous.
Johnny-fuckin'-Damon. I just received my second "we're in first place" phone call. I have never done this. Have you? It has burned me up all summer that yankee fans have accused me of gloating and being nasty about their team's failures. Because I haven't. Sure, I may openly root against them while on tv, and smile giddily if they lose, but I DON'T get in their faces and SING the division standings.

I may make fun of the yanks, their players, their ownership, their cheat-checks, and their pompous fans on my blog; what do you expect? THIS IS A RED SOX BLOG. You satin-clad dick-wads are welcome to write all about your cheatin' team and their glorious comeback and how much the red sox suck and blah, blah, blah, blah... ON YOUR OWN BLOG. If I happen to come by and read it, well I would never accuse you of being nasty about my team, because it's not like you CALLED ME UP PERSONALLY JUST TO GET IN MY FACE ABOUT IT. See, if it's on your blog, then people are reading it of their own free will. (get that? If you are a yankee fan reading this, don't complain to me about how I've insulted you. No one asked you to come here.)

This is what I can't understand about yank fans. I have never gone around reading all the yankee blogs out there so that I can leave nasty messages. I have ONE yank blog on my kinja-list, just to keep me informed, I believe I've actually been there to read twice, linked to it once, and have never left a comment. I could not be bothered with visiting yank fans just to insult them.

It's like WE are the actual sport to them, not what goes on inside the diamond. I honestly think that the hardest part of this year for yank fans has been going so long without material to insult sox fans with. Honestly. And since they've had nothing else to work with, they've been chastising me for "being nasty" just because I have a smile on my face. Urgh I HATE double standards, and what I hate the most about them is dealing with the people who have them, because they tend to be so nasty and hateful and insulting, and it's so impossible to point out to them that they are just as guilty, if not more. FRUSTRATING. I'm one of those bottler-types, who just lets them go off and meanwhile I quietly assure myself that nasty l'il fellas such as the skanks and their fans will get their come-uppin's in the end. I think "boy will they feel stupid when they have to eat those words," but it's senseless, because they never eat them - they never even acknowledge that they've said them. Instead they get upset with us for smiling about "their suffering".

This is what grunherz on the SG message board so aptly referred to as "premature ejaculation". Grun, I can't thank you enough; this has been my mantra of sanity since you have typed it. I seem to remember the yanks leading the division by a half game not terribly long ago. How long did that lead last again? One day? ONLY ONE DAY? THE GREAT AND POWERFUL YANKEES? Imagine that. There seemed to be a bit of panic around the sox blogosphere on that ONE day, but this was my take on it: All streaks come to an end. It's time for the boys to turn the beat around.

p.s. I finally "won" one of these RSN drawings, and at noon I'll be logging in to puchase two ALDS tickets, WHICH I FULLY BELIEVE I WILL BE UTILIZING.

p.p.s. My first "virtual waiting room" experience has been shockingly satisfactory. My seats are in the second row of section forty. For cheap bleacher seats, people, this is about as good as it gets.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005


Blow-out Lightens a Heavy Heart

I needed that. Badly. My day started off at five a.m. with PAIN. What ensued from there was excruciating, and boy I'd love to describe it just to get it off my chest, but then again I'd like you to return to my blog at some point, so I'd better pass. Let's just say things got worse before they got better, and by "worse" I'm pretty sure that could be considered high gloss.

And after the last two games, the thought of baseball loomed over the evening like a storm cloud in my brain. I don't know about you people, but I was starting to feel like Andrew (just, er, with a few less stats floatin' around in my brain). Usually I'm able to shake this kind of thing off... Streaks tend to end, after all. Maybe it was the day I had, but I didn't even try to muster up confidence. Hope was not an option, at least not one compatible with sanity.

But who needs sanity with the kind of day the middle of the order had? Papi's shoulders got some help tonight for the first time in awhile. Our heavy hitters look to be back, finally, and I sure hope it isn't a fluke. As the runs stacked up on the board, I couldn't help but worry that we were scoring for the whole week... Bad, evil, negative thoughts which must be stomped out! Instead I see that things are swinging around again. Bats and Arms are sharpening up at the same time. Our boys have not shown their full capabilities all season. If there's ever a time to do it, it would be now; there is no better time to get hot. And if our boys truly come together right now, watch out MLB 'cause there will be no stoppin' us...


Saturday Night... 'cause who really wants to talk about last night?

I just went through my pictures from Saturday, and I'm a wee bit disappointed in myself. This was our view. I could have gotten great photos of the fabulous pitching performances we had that night... but no, apparently I didn't bother. Which is a shame, because Bronson's graceful high-kicks were even more incredible from this angle. Also, I thought I had gotten a pic of Edgah on third base, but it looks like I had my finger over the lense. Terrible job, Reb.

That picture of Edgar was important, too. I discovered that he actually has one redeeming feature, and had planned to reveal it with pictoral evidence. You see, I had never before noticed what a very nice ass Edgar has. Not that it matters, since having just witnessed his TWENTY-NINTH error, we all would like to beat it bloody.

It was great to finally meet Andrew in person. We had some stimulating conversation, although I don't think he particularly enjoyed hearing about my edgah discovery (and I think the people around us must've really been fascinated.) It's not exactly my thing, but I tried to fill him in on what the female fascination was with certain players he was confused about, such as Billy (EYES, smile, just plain sexy) and Bronson (must be the kick). I'm pretty sure he still doesn't get it, so maybe someone who's more of an expert on these matters can explain it to him?

Somewhere around the fifth inning, Bronson had lost his no-no and the lead, and I decided to give Andrew a break from my drivel. My friends Christin & Lori were in the bleachers behind center field, and I thought I'd give them a visit. I didn't feel like going all the way up to the 42nd row - so easy to get stuck up there, with people going for beers every inning, and stopping on the stairs for no reason, etc. - so I told them to come down while I tried to get some pictures at the bullpen. I got some shots of the double-barreled Myers-Bradford action, but the plan itself did not work too well. I was walking back and forth, trying to dodge security while looking for Christin and Lori. I spent a disturbingly long time doing this.

Empy spotted me wandering aimlessly and called me over. I had left her a message, knowing she would be there, but she had forgotten her phone, therefore we never would have met up if it weren't for my absurd meet-up plan. Then Christin called me and we decided to give up; we were going out after the game anyway. I was on my way back to Andrew and our prime seats, when I passed a souvenior stand with stickers.

STICKERS! Perhaps some of you remember the sad discovery made by Jere and I just last week? That's right, no sox stickers on the sign. Well Empy had told me that Finy was along with her group, and I decided I had to buy some stickers and give them to Finy.

Here is my plea, a mission for all of my NY readers, especially Finy, should you choose to accept it: Place Sox stickers on this sign! The playoffs are coming, and we need the mojo! This sign is located in the Times Square subway station, on the way from the blue line to the shuttle (I think. correct me if I'm wrong here; It may be my banner but I'm not a New Yorker so I could be remembering this wrong.) This sign needs sox stickers, and as many as we can get. So buy some sox stickers and bring them with you if you will be passing the sign. Please. I beg you. I am on my knees here...

So I head back to the bleachers, stickers in hand. Empy is on the far right corner in the front area, so I go in the wheelchair entrance and pull myself up on the rail next to her. I hand her the stickers and tell her what they are for. Still, I had not met Finy, so she points me in the right direction. I go over to look, no luck. I notice someone's up in the bullpen, so of course I back-track and take some shots of the very impressive rookie, Jonathon Papelbon. Back over to look for Finy, but Empy has found out she had left the seats to get something. Well I was a bit disappointed I did not get to meet her, and of course I have no idea whether or not she will accept her mission. But I'm finally on my way back to hang with Andrew.

This adventure of mine had taken quite awhile. I was shocked to find I had only missed two innings or so. I got to see quite a bit of Papelbon's commanding performance. Also we saw Johnny somehow managing a conversation with Jay Payton from across left field. And of course we saw Timlin's A-game as well.

We had enough in that game, but don't you wish our arms and bats could show up to the same game for once?

You know what I mean.

Anyway, thanks Andrew, again, for the ticket. You rock. I enjoyed the game and the company immensely. Hope you didn't mind my leaving you at the mercy of section 27 for awhile. They seemed like pretty nice folks around there, but you never did tell me what happened while I was gone....

Monday, September 19, 2005



Things looked pretty dismal here in New England yesterday. Less than ideal, to say the least. I have come up with a very short list of positives:

  1. The most fortunate part, for me the fan, was that the games basically occured simultaneously, saving me several hours of pain and distress.
  2. the final score in Toronto.
  3. Keith Foulke was back in the saddle yesterday. I was still torturing myself with the last-channel button at the time, but he looked fairly confident out there, and the stat lines infer that he had good command of his pitches.
Well I guess that's it for yesterday. Saturday was much better, thankfully, and I was on hand with a great view;-) Will tell more when I am back in CT tonight.

Saturday, September 17, 2005


Skatin' the Fine Line

I pulled up to the paint store yesterday, and I wanted to drive off before I even went in. Your stereotypical yank fan was manning the desk. I peeked around, hoping to see the good sox fan somewhere in back. No dice. I hardly ever see this guy, and I wasn't expecting him. And I had that feeling, that stomach-sinking feeling I haven't had in almost a year... I couldn't scoff at the cockiness today.

"one an' a haff," he leers at me. Sleeze.

"Closest sniff you guys are gonna get," smiling confidently. Sometimes you have to fake confidence in order to BE confident.

"I don't know if there's a discount on this or not..." I say, holding up a spray can of coverstain, mostly to remind him that I get a discount.

"Not fer you, wit' dat hat... don' worry, I'm just kidden." I wish our boys would pick up their bats and wipe that smirk off his face. Seriously. Why should I have to put up with this shit? The way the yanks have been playing this year, they have no business in the race at all.

"Nex week, neeexx weeeeek..."

"You mean in two weeks?"

"no, nex week."

"Last weekend of the season. Two weeks. Oh, those games won't mean anything," I tell him, oh so wishing I was as certain as I sounded. I smile broadly and as I walk out of the store, I know that three guys are reading the words "SOX FAN" on my ass. "Good Luck" I call with a smile, not turning back as my eyes roll, exiting the store.

And honestly, there's a tiny part of me liking this situation, as if it's a plot being played so prettily... yank fans have awoken, dragged out their dusty egos, and they wear them with swagger. They boast of their great comeback into the race, and claim that we are "goin' down."

I suppose stranger things have happened. ;-)

Yank fans can taste the playoffs, which seems unthinkable with the year they've had, and still is rather unlikely. But yank fans, having watched ten straight years of October ball, can't even imagine a season without the playoffs. In fact, many people tune in to watch the yanks in the playoffs and genuinely call themselves "fans" and even go so far as to arrogantly refer to the 162 game regular season as "the yankees preseason". Believe me, I live among these folk. This is how they think and they do not think twice about it. Did I say think? Well that's what spews out of their mouths, anyway. And they brag about it.

It's an emotional set-up. *I hope I hope I hope I hope* The thought of the yanks failing miserably, having been technically eliminated from the playoffs weeks ago can only be climaxed for me by this scenario in development. The unlikely hope... Crushed. It's only appropriate. It's called Karma, people. Everything comes back around. For right now, because of their recent history, it only seems right that the yanks just barely miss the playoffs... By a hair. Yes, think how good that will be. How much better than the security we wish we had right now.

Still it's a bit frightening. I don't claim to know the future. I root for Cleveland... Then pull back, wondering if I should. It could backfire so easily. Sometimes we take heart in believing that our cheers and rituals and offerings can make a difference; Sometimes we take solace in knowing it may not.

And so we watch our boys teeter on the tightrope... Last night it was Timmy holding that rope tight. His flutter has been ON of late, his support not worthy.

Have you seen these BATS, boys? Are you aware that you are known collectively as the best in MLB at using them? Could you please demonstrate why that is?

Ah, but I digress. What I wish to impart with you, my compatriots, is that this one-and-a-half game thing is not so ominous as it seems. The yanks have been winning games they should not *ahem, ALL YEAR* tonight, for example. And we all have seen firsthand too many games to count gone wrong for the good boys. As we well know, things always seem their bleakest before they get better. As pathetic as it may seem for the "most potent offense in baseball" to win by a bases loaded hit-by-pitch, we'll take it... and we'll run with it.

So kick up your confidence, kids! Jere's got the right idea. (although for some reason I'm getting a "forbidden" message with this picture all of a sudden. I'm more convinced every day that Charter Communications is run by a bunch of MFY Nazis.) And look for me soaking wet in field box seats tonight, thanks to Andrew. (oh dear theo, I've never met Andrew before, and he's seen my picture on the internet. I sure hope I am not abducted!)

Tuesday, September 13, 2005


Silly, But They Feel Like Friends

I find myself feeling a little differently about the players I met the other day. For example, Keith Foulke's distressing mound mannerisms are now rather endearing to me. And I was pissed when Tito took him out last night... like a vote of "no confidence", and knew somehow that it would blow up in his face. Keith seemed to have settled down, and was hitting his spots, or so it looked, and I still think he could've taken on Vernon Wells. And got him out. Which would have meant an earlier night for all of us, I imagine. Edit: I should note that I find the antics endearing, but not the sucky pitching that induces it. Puh-leeze work this shit out, Keith.

But then again, maybe we would not have seen Papelbon. Dude was NAILS. I swelled with pride, with all of Red Sox Nation, I'm sure. I kept picturing his fiancée, cheering wildly at some tv somewhere. And I gave her a mental hug, and Jonathon, too. He is such a nice kid, I tell you. And he really showed up our veteran relievers, eh?

Oddly enough, I have become quite fond of Kevin Millar this year, despite his pathetically tardy hot streak. Now I love him. Beth made the comment that he is "too important to get off his cell phone". I have to tell you that although I was aware that he was on the phone, I felt I had his undivided attention. I would have to protest that it is I who would not be important enough to get off the phone for, but he made me feel as if I was. I thought I understood the clubhouse love for Kev, but now I really get it. We've all known people like this, at some point in our lives, I'm sure. Someone who makes everyone feel special. Millar's got that touch, that something special that you crave to be around, because he makes you feel GOOD. I will now defend him to the death. Also, the bottle of Jack I have been using as solace for difficult games such as Friday and Sunday... I am hoping to use the rest by way of tribute swigs in his honor whenever he is at bat. I did this last night, and he was 2/3. ok, 1/3 last night but he fucked himself by hitting the first pitch in his last at-bat. I had not had time to toast. Take a pitch or two, Kev, just to make sure you get the mojo.

Some people say you should not regret anything in life. Maybe those people don't do stupid things, as I seem to all the time. I have thought of Billy Mueller many, many times in the past few days. I cringe as I wonder how I could have missed him. Anguish. I tell myself it's absurd, yet still I feel intense guilt every time Billy has been up at the plate in a key situation since then, as it has not turned out well. If I am ever that close to him again, I will ask if I can have a picture of me kissing his feet.

Sunday, September 11, 2005


The Adventures of Reb & Jere: Hob-Knobbing with Sox... on the Sidewalk

When we first arrived on the scene, the sidewalk was disturbingly deserted. Jere had not done the scouting on Friday, and we were just crossing our fingers. "you think they switched hotels?" Jere asks me. Ok, since we are not about to run around scouting the pavement outside of every nice hotel in the city just yet, we continue to look around. We are looking for vultures... the for-profit autograph hounds- sure confirmation of sox presence. We see a couple on the corner, but they don't seem to be baseball fans. We were also looking around for Milan, who was instrumental in our first hotel stalking adventure. I had e-mailed him earlier in the week, but I never heard back. He was very cool, and we were disappointed not to find him, even if just to say "hi". Last time he took most of the pics with me in them, and this time Jere brought his video camera, so I felt bad about asking him to stop filming so he could take my pics. Surely he would miss stuff... and indeed he did, but I will let him tell that story.

We hadn't been there long before a bus pulled up at the front door. "That can't be them; too much white hair" observes jere. People on the bus are getting up. "Wait a minute, I think that's Timlin!" I looked. And so it was.

Jere gets much better shots with the video camera, generally. My camera, while serviceable, is not really meant for action shots. In other words things come out blurry or strange when the subject is moving. Also, (as if my own reaction time is not bad enough) my camera has a delay between when I press the button, and when the shot actually snaps. It's really only a second or so, but sometimes it seems like a century if you know what I mean, and often it means the difference between a great shot... and crap. Also there's a delay between shots. The camera won't take another picture right away usually. Also it turns off automatically if the camera's not being used a few minutes in a row. (I think I may be able to do something about that one; I should try because it's driving me crazy.) In short, my camera sucks. But it works, and anyway, sometimes I get my subject to stand still for me.

Imagine my surprise: most of the shots off the bus published by jere here are similar to mine. But my shots of Timlin getting off the "family" bus are different, and cute I think.

Well his family's cute, at least. But you can probably see what I mean by the "action shots." Jere's filming all this with a video camera, so action is his game. And he gets to sift through and pick the perfect shot to publish. I am so jeaous.

But I've got other stuff for you people, some of which you may possibly enjoy even more.

For example, After another bus-full of mostly pitchers (whose pics on my camera look pretty much like the ones jere has already posted), a couple of players arrived in private cars. Papi was completely mobbed, and rushed through the scene into the hotel. He didn't give much the time of day to anyone, and with the rush he was getting, I wasn't about to try. But then another car pulled up. Someone in the back seat opened the door and emptied a take-out beverage cup. Weird. I mean, I do that all the time myself, but I'm not sure I've ever seen anyone else do it. Particularly on the curb of a $300/night hotel. The two in back were definitely NOT players, but the front seat passenger I recognized. And other than Jere, I was the only one. I took a deep breath, and did as I was taught (thanks Milan) *tap on shoulder* "Jon?" (sweetly) *smiling as he turns to look* "would you take a picture with me?" (If you ever do this, people: smiling, confident, and unassuming are all KEY.) "Sure." He smiles, stops walking, and turns to face me. I turn and hand Jere the camera. "Thanks," I say, as jere struggles to fit both of our heads in the same frame. "No Problem," he tells me, still smiling, and walks into the hotel. A few autograph seekers nearby approach as he's leaving. "Who was that?" "Was that Papelbon?" someone gets a clue.

I was SO proud of myself. I had not forgotten how to do it. And it was easy. And the rookie little papey was such a perfect warm-up. I was ready for more. But most of the time it's not easy to catch them going in - especially when they arrive together by bus.

You may have noticed in the last picture of Jere's Part One something a little bit unexpectected? Well at least, I did not expect it. It's one thing to be in the presence of famous ballplayers whom you admire and cheer for every day; it's quite a different thing to be in the presence of greatness. I. LOST. MY. MIND. Literally. I was pressing the button like a madwoman, and could not figure out why it was not taking pictures (wrong mode). Tons of cool players came out of that bus, but I barely noticed. All I cared about getting pics of was Theo. And finally I gripped enough faculties to figure out the "problem" with my camera (the nut behind the wheel, as my dad would say) and got a couple action shots as he headed inside:

See those two guys in green in the backround? Well the one in the striped shirt is from RI (the other is his buddy from Boston), and he won some trip to see the sox in NYC - among other things - from Home Depot. The prize included hotel accommodations with the sox players, but curiously no opportunity to meet them. They had been there two days, taken in two games, and dude still had a baseball he was desperate to have signed - by anyone.

Jere has very similar pics to mine from this bus-load, but I do have the woman's eye, and I may be able to offer you something in my editing. I'm sure Jere did not notice this. I'm here to tell you, no matter how much money a man has, most of them still care not about accessorizing. They might have expensive toys in their bags, but apparently Slick (aka KY, aka Kevin Youkilis) uses paper, and Trot prefers plastic.

We had seen almost everyone go in by now, and it was just a matter of time until they came back out. One of the first out was Clement. I remember reading in the off-season a comment that Mattie may not be able to handle Boston's rabid fanbase. Not so. He's quiet, and soft-spoken, but very good natured. He seems to have plenty of time for fans. Here he is signing autographs for kids in the lobby.

Now I already have a photo with Mattie from May, so I would feel foolish asking for another, even though he would not remember such a thing. So instead I got an autograph, on the only thing I really had for such a thing, the Hello Kitty notebook I keep in my purse:

This is not going to help his "tough-guy" reputation, I'm sure. (sorry Mattie; you're a great guy and do not deserve such razzing.)

Keeping my eyes peeled, I soon spotted a new opportunity. Mike Myers, whom we had seen go into the hotel previously... yet curiously, we did not see him exit. He came walking up towards the hotel entrance. Mike was not stopping for anyone when we saw him in May, and he looked like he would pull the same here... but he was not being mobbed quite the same way. It's actually easier for these guys to say no to A LOT of people. *tap* well you know the routine, right? worked like a charm - again - but this time Mike had a few people bugging him when he was done with me. I think he got away fairly unscathed.

Next to come out were Jason and Karen Varitek. I have a hard enough time bothering these guys; I draw the line when they are with family. I don't even crowd them enough to get decent photos. Now do not ask me why Karen is facing the hotel here. I seem to remember her turning around in response to something Jason said, perhaps. Albeit from afar, these two struck me as pretty carefree last night. And I'm not sure if anyone even tried, but they walked quickly and casually by, stopping for no one.

Now is it just me, or does Karen look AMAZING here? Does she look like she gave birth just under three months ago? Here's another (blurry - in motion) look:

Now check this out. Once across the street, the Variteks blend in perfectly. NO ONE IS EVEN LOOKING AT THEM. (But why are they looking back? Jere shows a shot here where she appears to be waving, and I'm guessing their kids are with them, back in the hotel room.) They soon disappear around the corner.

For awhile we were watching Millar in the lobby. He signed some autographs, posed for some pics, talked on his phone a whole bunch, but by the time he left the lobby he was bee-lining it for a waiting car. No one had a chance. Yet somehow the magic worked. Jere had some trouble with my camera that time, and knowing he was dying to get out of there without appeasing the rest of the mob, I apologized. "It's okay, don't worry about it," He said, smiling, and he really sounded like he meant it.

As Jere was snapping the picture, some guy came charging up towards us from his parked Jaguar. Well I'll let Jere tell that story... Next came Tito, speed-walking to cross the street in a different direction. He was not even responding to requests, yet somehow I got him. I couldn't believe it when he came to a stop, turned around, posed for the pic, and as soon as it flashed he gave me a pat on the back "okay?" and he was off.

He was REALLY nice about the whole thing, yet very clearly eager to get out of there, and if any of the vultures had gotten to him because of me, I would have felt terrible.

Shortly after this, I got my first and only refusal of the evening. To be fair, Tony was being completely mobbed, and I try to not do this in those circumstances- people grabbing at him and all. He was giving hard no's until my tap. He was moving fast, but he did glance back at me, and I made my request. "After dinner I will, not now" he said. Jere thought he was saying that to someone else and I really can't be sure. All I know is I didn't get him, and I was pretty disappointed actually. But I also totally understood. And in a way I'm glad he didn't, because he would've been trapped in the swarm, and I would have felt awful about it.

We were hanging out for awhile waiting for more to come out, and I dropped my camera - for no reason. Maybe I AM blonde. So I took this shot of Jere to make sure it was still working. And I'm posting it because it's kinda cool... and also a little funny, because Jere's eyes popped out in surprise like that when he realized I was taking a picture of him.

At this point Jonathon Papelbon came out with his fiancée, so of course we don't bug him because we already have his picture, but I smile at her as they pass by. They were trying to catch a cab, and after a couple of false attempts, one of the doormen walk past, right between Papelbon & his girlfriend and me, so I said to the doorman "excuse me- you might want to get him a cab" The man gave me the look of death. A look so nasty that when he said "what did you just say?" In that way of saying he knows perfectly well what I just said. I was quite speechless, and apologized, and he glared at me some more before he stalked away. "What did you say?" Jonathon's girlfriend asks me. By this time I'm pretty embarrassed to say the least. But I smile weakly as I tell her. "Yeah," she said to me, "because we suck." I told her not to worry about it, and we saw Clement try for five minutes back in May. I walked back over to Jere. A few minutes later she motions us over, and thanks me again. "You did good, you were just trying to help," she says to me. We end up chatting with them for a few minutes until they finally get a cab, and she waves goodbye, smiling at us.

Next came Bronson and I already have a picture of me with him... but his head was cut off. So I thought I ought to get one with his whole head.

I had noticed KY in the lobby, and for awhile I kept track of him hanging out, sitting in one of the lounge chairs. Another guy was sitting across from him, back toward me. Foulke showed up. He was talking to the other two, standing up for awhile, cell in hand. He saw us out the window pretty much right away, smiled and waved at us. What a card. We laughed and waved back. The third guy got up after awhile and went up to the desk. Jere saw his face, couldn't figure out who it was. I knew the face. "shoppach." it hit me. And it was so. I can't pat myself on the back too much, because I totally missed some others somehow, as you will see... anyway, after awhile they got up to talk to the desk, and ended up standing around in the seating area next to it (where Edgah was hiding last time.) Then Keith and Kelly were walking over to the side door. Going out, then in again immediately. Walking over to the door, then turning. Laughing at us through the glass as we reacted to their moves. They were messing with us. Quite possibly US as in ME & JERE specifically, since we were the closest to the glass. I had given Jere my Hello Kitty notebook and pen so he could write notes to amuse the guys through the glass. Maybe I should let him write about that, though. Anyway, with all their milling around, I suspect they were running interference for some of their shier teammates. If they were, I hope they succeeded. I can think of several times when all the vultures were definitely distracted at the far corner, and someone could have easily snuck right out the front. Someone like Edgah, who really can't hack... read Beth's comment on this post; that's how Edgah seems to feel about fan attention.

Finally, after several teases, Keith Foulke walks right out the side door, drawing the crowd in a spot near the street on the far corner. (this would have been a prime opportunity for anyone needing to get out the front.) Of course, I walked out to get my pic (I knew it was a ruse, but I really HAD to have Foulkie anyway). Keith's ready for the pic, I turn around to hand Jere the camera - no jere. "Jere" I call. "Jere!" Keith yells. "Jere!" cries the crowd around us. Then someone in the crowd takes the camera. Jere, who was deep in conversation with Adam Stern at the time about their alma mater, University of Nebraska (how did I not notice; I know what Adam Stern looks like) mortified, has to apologize to Adam, and rushes over. Well some other dude had the camera, so Keith tells Jere to get in the picture.

As you can see, Jere and I are both laughing uncontrollably as the picture is snapped. Look for more on this whole scenario at Jere's, who has described this whole time pretty well, where we are just hanging with these guys for awhile. Here's Jere with Adam Stern.

Here's me and Kelly Shoppach.

Here's me and Adam Stern.

And here's the part when I walk over to KY and Gabe and somehow *I am beating myself up over this, just writing it* miss Billy, and if you look at the shot over at Jere's, Billy actually looks irritated about this. *I. WANT. TO. DIE.* And here I am with Youk:

Slick was the most reluctant of all posing players the entire evening. I really have to wonder if this is because his dad finds all this stuff on the internet. Mr. Youkilis, do you tease your son terribly or what? Give him a break; he's had a rough year, having to commute to RI all the time.

And here, my final pic of the adventure, Gabe Kaplar and myself.

You will not believe this, as I barely can myself, but Gabe thanked ME. Meanwhile, the very sexy Billy Mueller was likely glaring and muttering and hates my guts.

I've linked to these throughout the post, but I think it might be helpful to people at the end here. Jere told his side of the story (with fabulous photo evidence; don't miss it!) in three different posts. Also, we did this for the first time back in May.


Guess What I Did Yesterday


Some of you know me well enough to guess what's coming next. Stay tuned for another episode of the adventures... and check on jere 'cause he will be posting lots of good adventure stuff, too.

Friday, September 09, 2005


The Arachnid Suckitude

I don't even have to write about how much the yanks suck today. Because A Yank blogger has done that for me.

Oh but he forgot to mention: The contemptible Gary Sheffield does indeed have a problem with his hammy which held him out last night. I hope he's in tonight. This thing's going to bother him and surreptitiously affect his play for the next three weeks. And then of course, he will have a long vacation.

Thursday, September 08, 2005



It's been nearly twenty years since I became a full-fledged Patriots fan. My first football memory, however, came five years earlier. I was five years old, living in the LA area, where my father could rarely catch his Pats. So he taught me what he could: to HATE the Raiders.

It's been hard to rev myself up for football this year. But in just a few minutes I will be ready to rumble. Because deeper than my hatred of the yanks, deeper than my love of the sox, or my love of the pats, deep deep down in my soul, I desire to see the raider fans suffer, to see Al Davis scream, to see the Raiders lose.

Edit: Nose Tackle on horse trailer. Take a picture, folks, you won't see that happen again in your lifetime. And, reminiscent of the Superbowl MVP, they talk about how Tom Brady would be deserving if he hadn't already won it so many damn times.



In honor of two of my internet friends - one real, one quite mystical - Jere & Sam

Celebrating a combined half-century of devoted and unwavering Red Sox support.
(Just ignore that bright orange tigers hat on Sam's head; she really is a very loyal red sox fan.)

Wednesday, September 07, 2005


The Demise of the Despicable

Gary Sheffield has left the game with a leg injury. Will keep you updated as I learn more.

ok they're calling it a "tight hamstring"... not quite as serious as we would like. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, though; they could be down-playing.

Edit 9:50 pm: Earlier this evening, Jeter hit into a bases-loaded, inning-ending double play. All for naught, as in the bottom of the eighth, juiced up Giambi hit a two-out, two-run shot to set up the save for the fruit-bat. yanks are now 5-10 against the devil rays this season. Oh well, lou still has tomorrow to make it up to us.

In the post-game interview, Gary Sheffield said his hammy felt pretty good because it was all iced up, and he would know tomorrow if it's fine. I'm hoping it'll be "fine" as in something that merely irritates him for the next month... (and this is not because he's a yankee, but because I find Gary Sheffield to be utterly contemptible.)

Tuesday, September 06, 2005


Tale of Two Ties

Timmy had some serious flutter tonight, and it's a good thing as our offense was not quite clutch. Seeing so many opportunities slip by is painful to me... still it's always nice to see a walk-off.

You know what else is nice to see? The go-ahead run scored on MO's watch. I don't know if he was charged with it; could have been an error on Canoe, but whatever it takes... The Devil Rays have won their tenth game against the yanks this season, and helped us out in the process.

The ties broke in our favor tonight, and the yanks have dropped to four back.


Welcome Back

I hope everyone had a fabulous holiday weekend. I was wanting to comment about the freakish phenom trend going on with the white sox pitching... But then this happened.

Friday, September 02, 2005


Quotes from last night

Olderdude: (to media) "I was really just trying to get a sacrifice fly to get that run in, and I just got a pitch that I hit real well and it ended up being better than a sacrifice fly." (to Millar) "Anything you can do, I can do better. I can do anything better than you."

Randall Gay: "Am I the only one out here on the field who knows what defense we're running?"

The insufferable Micheal Kay: "ow, that one had to hurt." (actual quote after Jaret Wright was hit by the ball on the collarbone. x-rays are negative but yanks are unsure if he will make his next start.)

Lou Piniella: "I've heard enough 'Sweet Caroline.'" (actual quote from

Ramiro Mendoza: (to media) "I felt good today, I just made a bad pitch on the home run," Mendoza said. "I wanted it more inside, but it stayed [in the middle]." (to theo) "yep, I did it just like you told me, boss. Alan's been doing a great job for you here, but they take him out too quick to make a big impact. Hopefully we get more back-to-back appearances."

KY: "Hello? Tito? I'm available, you know. Theo didn't call me up here to play scrabble." *pulls out fifth wedgie he has received since entering the clubhouse 45 minutes prior* "I just don't want to get hurt. Last time I was up here I got a splinter from that damn bench and I couldn't run straight for a week."

Thursday, September 01, 2005


Doesn't take much

During the game, NESN showed a clip of Theo. He seemed to be responding to questions (complaints) regarding our pathetic excuse for a bullpen. "We've got the 3rd best record in baseball," says the best GM in the history of time. Always lookin' on the bright-side, he is, albeit in monotone. I had to look it up... not that I doubt theo, mind you, I just can't believe, with all the games we've dropped by pure rotten luck, that our record is up there. Indeed it is. Of course, the best record is held by St. Louis (again?) with seven more wins and five fewer losses, and there's lots of clubs with just 2 or three fewer wins than the sox, but still it's nice to be up there.

The last two games have done wonders for my mindset as a sox fan. Obviously I'm still concerned about the pen, but come-back wins always help the morale. Last night it wasn't just what we scored, but how we scored it. Certain players have not quite been pulling their weight this year, if you know what I mean.

Millar has had a lot of bad luck this year, in my opinion. Sure, he hasn't been hitting that well but I've also seen him robbed of some big ones. There was no chance of that last night, though, and it was the difference in the game. There's been a lot of games we could have won this year with Millar hitting... it's been depressing to watch him change his hair every two weeks looking for his stride. Well Kev, this would be a fabulous time to find it - although I'm not sure I'm thrilled about seeing that particular hairstyle for the rest of the season. And knowing Kev, Curt is just the beginning. By October first the dugout might be a sea of bright yellow hair. ick. Well if you must...

Dougie has induced groans from me all season as he approaches the plate. When Tito sent him out to pinch hit recently I was screaming at the video feed on my computer. So on his longball last night I've just gotta say 'bout f---in' time. His stolen base, however, now that had me on the floor. How funny was that? Seeing these two guys make key contributions last night buoyed my opinion of our lineup by quite a bit, which really takes the sting off the mound issues we have.

Over on the west coast, Seattle was not especially helpful to us last night. Timmy has tied the shriveled unit's first place in homers allowed, and I expected Randy to regain full ownership of that title. And really, one well-placed swing would've gained us a game last night... what a shame.

In other news, d-lowe might be back. As in, back to the lights-out guy he ought to be. How does it take so damn long to figure something like this out?.

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