On a steel horse, he rides?

Josh Beckett, gulp, cowboy.

How do you like them apples? Apparently Josh Beckett does not like it when I talk shit about him. Evidently it gets him all fired up and rarin' to go. If that's the case, does someone care to alert homeboy to all posts referencing "Fat Head" between now and...quite some time ago? Because if that's all it takes, I will start showing up at his hotel room and calling him a Melon Noggin to his face. When I eventually get escorted out by security, I will stand on the sidewalk with a bullhorn and yell about the Planetary Cranium residing in Room 233. When I'm dragged away to the local precinct, I'll have my minions take up my cause and begin a letter writing campaign. Oh, I have minions, don't you worry. If by "minions" I mean "drunk friends." But most of them would not turn down the opportunity to make fun of Beckett for the good of the team. What can I say? We're givers.

So, once again, the West Coast is all messed up and things happen later over there so nary a pitch did I see. I fell asleep at 10 on the dot last night (thanks, Audobon martinis!) and didn't know what happened until this morning when I sleepily pulled up MLB.com. Call me a pessimist but I fully expected to see another tick mark in the loss column. Something about the way Beckett's been tanking of late and the Magical Mullet of Wonderment sported by Weaver did not add up to a Red Sox win in my mind. Luckily, my math was off.

Even more than luckily, we still have David Ortiz. (For the record, not talking about this.) And David Ortiz has gotten damn tired of losing baseball games. Also sick of it? Wily Mo Pena who, I hear tell, made something of a laser-guided throw from the outfield to cut down the potential tying run at the plate. And Papelbon, who has had just about enough of this "Varitek is his Magic Man" bullshit. Not that we don't want Tek back because...PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE COME BACK SOON, TEK!

Ahem.

Also, Manny's MRI was negative which is possibly the best news of the day. A team without Manny picking dandelions in the outfield is not a team I care to watch on a regular basis. At least not without a strong sedative. And, as Red pointed out, without Manny, there is little chance that a Three Amigos for the Next Generation starring Manny, Papi and Wily Mo will spontaneously break out in the dugout between innings. And that would be a loss we'd all feel acutely.

Let's hope the Big Schill feels showed up by the young'un tonight and comes in, guns blazing. I suspect the phrases "punk ass" and "no respect for you elders" might have been tossed around a bit. Get on it, Curt. Don't let the boy make an old man outta you.