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

Friday, August 11, 2006

Hangman is comin' down from the gallows and I don't have very long...*

(We always knew Stephen King was a Red Sox fan.)

Look, I've had Styx's "Renegade" stuck in my head for roughly the past eighteen million years and I can no longer be alone in that. So there.

Sometimes you find yourself still at your office, four hours after the work day has ended partaking of free booze and delicious foodstuffs and completely ignoring the fact that there's a baseball game being played. And you realize, when you get home, intoxicated and full to the point of bursting (What? It was free, I was being economical), that you were blissful in your ignorance. Because...wow.

Sometimes you are woken up at 3:00am by some hooligans outside your window, undoubtedly planning some kind of mass suicide off the Zakim and you find it very difficult to get back to sleep because, ha, funny joke, but you went to bed swearing that you saw that the Red Sox had been swept by the Royals. Man, gin is a harsh mistress. Always messing with your head like that. Then you fall back asleep for twenty minutes, are woken up again by the apocalyptic noises of the street cleaners (Really, are you sure that 3:20am is the best possible time for this?) and you think perhaps you should double check that score. And then you do. And then the hopeless desperation which would be funny if it were anyone other than your team makes it hard to get back to sleep without first spilling your sad bastard guts all over the internet about it. Okay, not really. This isn't about to turn into a Bright Eyes song or a Barry Zito personal ad on emokids.com or something. But really, wouldn't this be kinda hilarious if it was someone else?

I'd like to think that pehaps it's just that the Sox, seeing no challenge, just can't get it up for the likes of the Devil Rays and Royals. And then I'd like to have a sharp stick handy so I can poke my eyes out thanks to that disturbing mental image I've created. But we don't always get what we want.


(It's not going away.)

I mean, I don't want to be the one to point out that since Jason Varitek has gone on the DL, the team's taken a swan dive that would make Greg Louganis proud. I don't want to have to mention the parallels to 2001 and the fact that, though we rag on him, Tek is kinda important. I don't want to admit that this came to me on the T on the way home after several free gin and tonics and I made a "Eureka!" motion and actually slapped myself in the forehead and quite possibly said "A-ha!" loudly, scaring my seatmate who just wanted to listen to his SexyBack in peace. And I really don't want to discuss the fact that it's currently 3:34am and I've got Styx's Greatest Hits playing on endless shuffle in my head.

3:34am, people. This is not sane. I am not well. I blame Curt Schilling. Or Jonathan Papelbon. Or Javy Lopez. I do not, however, blame Wily Mo Pena. Or David Ortiz. And for once, I don't blame Bombay Sapphire. For once, she done me no wrong.

Sapphire is a pretty color. A lovely blue shade. Know what else is a pretty shade of blue? Royal. Argh. This way, lies madness.

Are they throwing a parade in KC right now or are they, along with the rest of the baseball world, just laughing at us? I mean, I'm not gonna front like I wouldn't be making jokes about being swept by the Royals if it was any other team. I have and I will again. So I guess turnabout is fair play. I have certainly been known to dish it out. Guess it's time to take it.


Evidently, Baltimore comes to town this weekend. You just know Kevin Millar is gonna be all up in Schilling's face about the whole being swept by the Royals thing. I hope Millar wears a helmet as he's liable to get beaten. I don't get the sense that Schilling has quite the sparkling sense of humor about these things that I've displayed thus far. (Must be the Styx. Makin' me mellow.) I, for one, will be in Maine again, rockin' out at my parents' annual epic shindig, New England clambake-style. But for now, I'm going to attempt to knock myself unconscious on my headboard so I can get some sleep.