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

Monday, July 31, 2006

And on the Seventh Day, God Created Ortiz

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(Clearly, an epic tome on the Sox DH)

In the interest of full disclosure, I think it's only fair to tell you (because The Rick surely will if I don't) that I was checking the score on Gamecast, watching Miami Ink (my remote is broken, again) and scouring the internets for...stuff because I did not want to watch the Fat Man crash and burn when I heard that Tek went down with a knee injury. Then I made a noise similar to that of a feral cat caught in a garbage disposal. And I began searching frantically for the half-full bottle of tequila and a twisty straw. As such, I did not see Ortiz's blast. But I'm pretty sure I know what it looked like. You know, having seen it seemingly every other game.

NESN is telling me that Ortiz has hit only fifteen walkoff hits with the Red Sox. I find this completely impossible since I'm sure I can personally name at least 50 in recent memory. Such things happen when you're larger than life.

At this point, I'm thinking opposing pitchers, knowing that he's going to beat them with a certainty usually reserved for death and taxes, should just throw the first pitch right down the middle of the plate, thus saving the strain of extra pitches on their arms. It might seem overconfident but, I mean, it's DAVID ORTIZ. He is not human. Kyle Snyder, when asked by Tina Cervasio, "What's it like to see David Ortiz do this again?" replied, "It makes no sense. I don't even know."

If you'd like to write a haiku, please do. I welcome epic odes and heartfelt renditions of The Greatest American Hero theme as well. Because, as Annette observed, "Pretty sure we've reached the point where we essentially have to rename the state Papichusetts. It's the only possible tribute big enough."

As for the rest of the team, I, for one, am not upset about the lack of movement at the trading deadline. Of course, I'd make a terrible GM because I grow very attached to players very rapidly, but Mark Loretta is an All-Star. Mike Lowell in en fuego. Coco is nails (and also has phat beatz). And Papelbon? Are you high? I've grown quite fond of this team and, call me an eternal optimist (I guarantee you I don't get called that very often), but if we're gonna win, I want to win with this team. And the other thing? This team does not suck. This team is pretty damn good. I'm thrilled that we didn't break up our sexy infield defense, especially if it would have meant bringing scum like Julio Lugo onto the team. (Gabe Kapler would have had to cut a bitch, for sure). I imagine it also instills the team with a certain level of confidence that Theo and the front office have enough faith in them to let them have a go at it as presently constituted. And so do I.

As for the Yankees...eh. I can't get up the energy to be all worked into a righteous lather about the Abreu/Lidle thing because, I mean, did we really think that wasn't going to happen? They pull this shit every year. This is nothing new. I'm not sold on Lidle because the gap between the NL and AL just keeps getting greater and greater and I see Lidle as an NL pitcher. And as for Abreu, well, offense isn't really the Yankees' problem either. And I don't think Abreu has a devastating sinker that we don't know about.

I...can't talk about Tek because my computer tends to crash when faced with high-pitched shrieking.

And now, your moment of Zen as I report to you that NESN has seen fit to show a montage of David Wells sucking set to Bon Jovi's "Bad Medicine." No, I've not finally lost my mind and started hallucinating due to prolonged exposure to rock star sweat and leatherpants. That really happened. "Your love is like bad medicine! Bad medicine is what I need." I...don't even know what to do with that.

Tomorrow, we roll one. I wish I was hallucinating this time but I'm pretty sure I heard Tina Cervasio say that Jason Johnson will be starting for the Sox tomorrow. There goes that high-pitched shrieking again. But this is the team, boys. This is who we've got. Time to man up. At least we'll always have Ortiz.