Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Not the Wind I Had in Mind
Timmy's tossing out meatballs tonight- the kind that like the bats, not the gloves. Four innings were enough for him, and Lenny's out there now, but the damage has been done. Our boys are on the short end of a seven-run gap. I heard mention that Timmy has not done well in past outings here, either. I hope this is an area the stat jockeys keep track of down there in the church basement. I'm no expert, but I bet each field is subject to unique wind patterns, which could affect the knuckleball a great deal more than other pitches. If we're going to use match-up stats to decide things like when Papi should sit out and what reliever to bring in, why oh why can't we plot where Timmy pitches? I mean we all know who we want on the mound when we play the Twinkies, right?
*
An hour later I'm flipping between the Red Sox and the "Hell, No" Network. Normally I watch these things side by side, since I get most of my sox games on mlb.tv - but this week extra innings is giving us a free preview. I can't bear to shrink the game down to my computer screen, and I can't put the skanks game on there because of blackout restrictions. So I give a workout to my favorite button on the remote, "last".
I quietly ask myself why I am bothering, with a score of 10-1 in the seventh. It's not like they're likely to come back and win this one. Still I stay tuned, and I notice the sox fans in the sparse Ameriquest Field crowd are sticking around as well. What is it that keeps us here, when the outcome of a game is all but certain? So many teams are known for fans who wander off in the seventh innning, no matter what the score. Not us. You won't catch a red sox fan making dinner reservations too close to the end of a ballgame, or sneaking out early to "avoid the rush". Still, what's the fascination that keeps us locked in, trailing by nine? They're still playing, and that's why we watch. Win or lose, there is no mercy rule in MLB; the players still come up to bat, and if you walk away, you just might miss something... like Wily Mo's first official rbi in a Red Sox uni.
*
Later I'm close to dozing off, one eye still open to the diamond out in Oakland, when the phone rings. I can think of only one person who would call at half past eleven on a Tuesday just to chat- and sure enough I'm right. The benefit to talking on the phone during a yankees game is that I miss all of Kay's idiotic blathering... the drawback is that you miss it, too. But I wasn't paying attention anyway, remember? The blatherings, that is... the game itself I was indeed watching. I'm not a big fan of talking on the phone while I'm trying to watch something, in fact I pretty much avoid it at all cost- Unless, of course, I'm talking to someone who is watching the same thing, which is occasionally like having our very own anti-dunbar broadcast of a skankee game. Someday we're gonna rid the world of all this "exclusive territory" bullshit, and Jere & I (or perhaps people who are slightly better than us) will get paid a ton of money for such commentary.
*
After hanging up with the blogger-friend, I wussed out on the A's in favor of a half-decent bedtime. Clearly I had forgotten that the Farns was warming up in the bullpen. And Mike Myers. But in the end it was neither of those cats, but Scott Proctor giving all clad in green and yellow (and red and white) cause to jump around. Sure, the A's deserve some credit, I suppose, but not very much; Out of twelve pitches, Proctor threw three strikes. He has handed us what I like to call a "compensation loss". Our first of the year, and a walk-off one at that. So let's all hear it for Scott.
*
An hour later I'm flipping between the Red Sox and the "Hell, No" Network. Normally I watch these things side by side, since I get most of my sox games on mlb.tv - but this week extra innings is giving us a free preview. I can't bear to shrink the game down to my computer screen, and I can't put the skanks game on there because of blackout restrictions. So I give a workout to my favorite button on the remote, "last".
I quietly ask myself why I am bothering, with a score of 10-1 in the seventh. It's not like they're likely to come back and win this one. Still I stay tuned, and I notice the sox fans in the sparse Ameriquest Field crowd are sticking around as well. What is it that keeps us here, when the outcome of a game is all but certain? So many teams are known for fans who wander off in the seventh innning, no matter what the score. Not us. You won't catch a red sox fan making dinner reservations too close to the end of a ballgame, or sneaking out early to "avoid the rush". Still, what's the fascination that keeps us locked in, trailing by nine? They're still playing, and that's why we watch. Win or lose, there is no mercy rule in MLB; the players still come up to bat, and if you walk away, you just might miss something... like Wily Mo's first official rbi in a Red Sox uni.
*
Later I'm close to dozing off, one eye still open to the diamond out in Oakland, when the phone rings. I can think of only one person who would call at half past eleven on a Tuesday just to chat- and sure enough I'm right. The benefit to talking on the phone during a yankees game is that I miss all of Kay's idiotic blathering... the drawback is that you miss it, too. But I wasn't paying attention anyway, remember? The blatherings, that is... the game itself I was indeed watching. I'm not a big fan of talking on the phone while I'm trying to watch something, in fact I pretty much avoid it at all cost- Unless, of course, I'm talking to someone who is watching the same thing, which is occasionally like having our very own anti-dunbar broadcast of a skankee game. Someday we're gonna rid the world of all this "exclusive territory" bullshit, and Jere & I (or perhaps people who are slightly better than us) will get paid a ton of money for such commentary.
*
After hanging up with the blogger-friend, I wussed out on the A's in favor of a half-decent bedtime. Clearly I had forgotten that the Farns was warming up in the bullpen. And Mike Myers. But in the end it was neither of those cats, but Scott Proctor giving all clad in green and yellow (and red and white) cause to jump around. Sure, the A's deserve some credit, I suppose, but not very much; Out of twelve pitches, Proctor threw three strikes. He has handed us what I like to call a "compensation loss". Our first of the year, and a walk-off one at that. So let's all hear it for Scott.
# posted by Rebecca @ 9:33 PM 
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When I saw the Yank box score, I smiled. No Mo, no win. It was like the Yanks had a proctologist exam, right there for all of us to see. And Reb, there is a hidden message to you in my Wed. AM post. It will be a beautiful opening day weatherwise. In fact, next week, every day, will feature sun and temps. warming into the lower 70s. I say this right now as snowflakes fall and the ground has a couple inches of wet white. Bye.
It's not very hidden, Peter.
Also, I also watched every pitch, rooting for the Sox to come back, even with two outs in the ninth. My theory is if you don't "believe" and "have faith" all the time, you can't claim that you did after they do something like come back from a 3-0 lead in a playoff series.
Also, I also watched every pitch, rooting for the Sox to come back, even with two outs in the ninth. My theory is if you don't "believe" and "have faith" all the time, you can't claim that you did after they do something like come back from a 3-0 lead in a playoff series.
Oh, you're here? It just would be a great way to spend an otherwise normal Tuesday afternoon. Lunch first...
I laughed, and then I realized that's a YES. What better way to spend a Tuesday early afternoon than with a once-a-year homo? And me! Your sense of humor, so rarely seen, became noticable...congrats!
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