"Hell may have no fury like a woman scorned but heaven hath no sweetness like a sports fan vindicated." - Samcat

Friday, July 15, 2005


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Word, dude. Word.

This week? Insane. So you’ll forgive me if I update slightly less than daily. But rest assured, I won’t be gone for long.

Tonight is the big SG meetup wherein those of us who haven’t met each other will meet and scream and throw things at the television together. Something tells me we’re all going to be the last to see each other alive.

I’m not talking about last night’s game save for a few choice quotes tossed about by Amy, Marianne, Annette and The Rick.

Amy, on Bellhorn’s flyout: Bellhorn could walk down to Hits ‘R Us with $70 in his pocket and the dude behind the counter would go, “Sorry, dude, we’re all out.”


The Rick, after Bellhorn’s eleventy billionth strikeout of the game: Where’s the column? Who’s the guy they just got from the Indians?
Me: Alex Cora?
The Rick: Yeah. “WherethehellisAlexCora.com.” Write it.
Me: I don’t know what to tell you, Dad. They sent Youks down, so he can’t play second.
The Rick: Yeah, what the shit was that about?
Me: They needed to activate Schilling.
The Rick: I’m going to look at the forty-man roster and figure out who the hell else can play second base besides Bellhorn. Jesus, that guy is bad.
Me: How ‘bout Kapler?
The Rick: Perhaps a bit of a liability defensively but a huge upgrade in offense. Yeah, get on that, “Kapleratsecond.com.”


Annette on Terry Francona going with Schilling in the 9th inning of a tie game: I swear, I’m going to go gambling with Tito one of these days. We’re going to use his money but it’s going to be fantastic.


Marianne on the Schilling-as-closer science experiment: “This is kind of like NASCAR. Except less white trash. You’re just waiting around for a fiery crash.”


And finally, me, after the game: *Whimper*

Amy, Annette and I also began to develop our rudimentary rules for our Red Sox/Yankees drinking game. So far, we’ve established that the following acts warrant a drink:

  • Arroyo plunks (insert Yankee here).
  • Jeter claps for himself.
  • “Past a diving Womack.”
  • Manny makes outfielding an adventure worthy of a pith helmet and pickax.
  • Varitek swings (and misses) at a high fastball.
  • Gary Sheffield swings so hard he almost falls down.
  • A Yankee tags up on Damon.
  • Jeter unnecessarily jackknifes out of the way of a pitch four feet outside the strike zone.
  • Special to the game airing on Fox: Any reference to Jeter’s “calm eyes.”
  • Brawls, bench clearing or otherwise = social.

I’m guessing that if things continue in this fashion, at least one drinking game is going to be necessary.

However, I’ve decided it’s best to think about lovelier things including the fact that football season starts relatively shortly. And the Patriots are, as they were last year, Defending Super Bowl Champions! I know I’m excited about it. So is Jay. Sebastian? Less so. Witness the following exchange that took place on Tuesday night during a commercial break in the All-Star Game:

Jay: So who wants to watch twenty-four hours of Patriots DVDs with me and Kristen?
Sebastian (a Steelers fan): Will you show the part where we broke your streak?
Me: Yes, just before the part where we broke your quarterback. And your hearts. And your soul.
Sebastian: Remember when you guys sucked forever and people used to call you the Patsies?
Jay: Yeah, what is it they call us now?
Me: Champions?
Jay: That’s it!

It’s been a crazy week, kids. But rest assured that I haven’t forgotten about you. I promise to be back in full force in no time. Perhaps I’ll even have some incriminating pictures to post. Like, oh, I don’t know, this one of my brother on his birthday in Toronto. This is what happens if you’re part of my family. Clearly, the madness is genetic.