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

Friday, December 16, 2005

Grab Bag

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Things Which I Have Not Been Able To Write About At Length For Fear Of Causing My Head To Make Like That Bomb Thingie Up There But Which I Now Feel As Though I Can Tackle Because Enough Time Has Passed...Maybe:

Thing the First: The departure of Bill Mueller.
This one hurts. This one, actually, feels a little like the break up that you knew was coming. He's a good guy. You had fun together, but there's really no place in your life for him anymore. It hurts, because it always hurts when things end. But it's for the best. You're both moving on.

Okay, that's what a sane person would say. But, for those of you who read this even a little bit, you will know that I am many things, but sane is not one of them. Loud, yes. Opinionated, definitely. Drunk and a right bitch? At times. But certainly not sane. And so, my reaction to the whole Bill-Mueller-to-the-Dodgers scenario is as follows: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! WWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY????????? STAAAAAYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!

*pounds fists on table*
*rends garments*
*exhibits much wailing and gnashing of teeth*

And...scene. Basically, I'm not acting rationally. I love Buelly and wanted him to stay around forever. And probably, a small little part of me wanted to believe that he'd stay behind, despite our current roster which boasts "14 third baseman and Mark Loretta" to, I don't know, coach third base or something. Because he likes us. Yeah, well, it was worth a shot.

But I will wish him well, and wipe away a dramatic tear as he sets off for L.A. where, as Annette says, Dodgers owner Frank McCourt is doing a bang up job of reassembling the 2003 Red Sox. And if I read so much as one negative word about Bill Mueller *cough*
Dan Shaughnessy *cough* I will take a pitchfork and torch to whatever journalistic establishment uttered it. Because Bill Mueller is likely the most inoffensive ballplayer ever, and we were lucky to have him.

Thing the Second: The Two-Headed GM Monster.
Allow me to describe for you exactly how I thought this "Red Sox Press Conference to Announce the New Direction of the Front Office" thing was going to go:

Larry Lucchino steps to microphone: "Since the resignation of Theo Epstein as GM of the Boston Red Sox some six weeks ago, we have looked long and hard to find a suitable replacement. Finally, we have reached a decision which we feel will be beneficial to the team, the front office and the fans. (Dramatic pause) Allow me to introduce you to the new General Manager of the Boston Red Sox."

A man wearing a gorilla suit steps to the podium.

The room begins to buzz.

The man removes the head of the gorilla suit to reveal Theo Epstein, tan and well-rested after his trip to Argentina with Pearl Jam.

Theo speaks: "Come on, I was the GM of the Boston Freakin' Red Sox. The job I wanted my entire life and that all of you would kill to have. You think I was giving that up? Nah, I was just fucking with ya. Man, you people sure can't take a joke."

Then, likely, the room would dissolve into a chorus of Kumbaya with Theo on acoustic guitar, Lucchino on harmonica and Manny dispensing hugs and "Manny Wants To Stay" t-shirts to everyone in attendance.

Isn't my mind a fantastical place to visit?

But instead of that heartwarming scene, we get Jed Hoyer and Ben Cherington who will deal with the major league and minor league aspects of General Manager-ing respectively. And we get more conspiracies than the Kennedy assassination about whether or not Theo's actually pulling the strings and will return anyway. Frankly, this whole thing is exhausting. EXHAUSTING. And nowhere else but Boston would fans wake up in a cold sweat going, "Is Theo coming back?" God, we're insane.

Thing the Third: MannyGate.
I don't care. Seriously, I've had enough of his crap. And normally, I don't believe in appeasing a player - especially one as infantile and irrational as Manny Ramirez - to shut him up but this team, as it's currently fashioned, stands more than a little chance of being tossed into upheaval WITHOUT his bitching and moaning. So fine, get rid of him. If Tejada wants to come here, GREAT. Although now he's all, "Um, or not?" I'm sure David Ortiz has already ordered some blinged out BFF necklaces in the shape of the Dominican flag to give to Miggy, so it's all good either way. But please, no more MannyGate. No more. This is reaching Damon-level proportions of SHUT UP ALREADY.

Thing the Fourth: Tom Brady's Leg.
Per Tom in today's Globe:

''I'm doing better than I was a few days ago," Brady said. ''You guys know Belichick, so I'm not going to talk about this stuff. He's given me strict instructions to keep quiet, so that's what I'm doing."

So he's got a "lower leg injury" which could mean anything from a stubbed toe to an amputated tibia. Belichick redefines "withholding" with these injury reports. However, I choose to believe that Brady will be fine and that he will play. Because if I even entertain other possibilities, it's likely you'll find my curled up in the fetal position, rocking back and forth and chanting something about "goddamn quarterback sneaks." I mean, Brady's played hurt before. Brady's played ill before. We need only to look back to last year's "He's got the flu so bad he needs to take intravenous fluids and is hallucinating dolphins in the endzone" game against Pittsburgh. Ain't no little shattered femur (or, hangnail) gonna keep him out of this one.

And finally, Thing the Fifth: Da Broons.
Hey, they won last night! Check that action out. Damn good thing too as I got home yesterday to find my impulse-purchased tickets to the January 10th game vs. the San Jose Sharks (or, as it's known in B's parlance, "Jumbo Joe's Return"), in my mailbox and had the boys turned in a stinker, well, let's just say I have a lighter and I know how to use it.

Goals by Patrice Bergeron, Sergei Samsonov and new guy Marco Sturm and the B's are at a decidely metiocre 3-3 for the month. But hey, a win is a win. Baby steps indeed.

Oh, I lied. There is one more thing.

Thing the Sixth: Hooray for Feedster!
Yours truly was just informed that Basegirl has been chosen as Feedster's "Feed of the Year Finalist #17" which, I gather, is pretty cool indeed. You can read all about the contest here. This came as somewhat of a surprise but is still a great honor. So thanks to everyone who reads this site and to everyone who comments or passes along links. And, most especially, to my fellow bloggers who are all crazy lunatics like myself. I really do appreciate it.

Okay, so, I think I'm caught up now. Right? Did I miss anything? Your thoughts?