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

Monday, May 28, 2007

And I Ain't Missin' You At All

Total lie, of course. I miss Trotter like crazy. It seems that I forget daily that JD Drew is on the team and then I'm cruelly reminded every time he takes the field or steps into the box and shows absolutely no emotion, never smiles and just generally looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. Doesn't help that he's wearing Trotter's number so that for a split second, I always think, "Hey, Trotter's...oh. Damn." Gets me every time. I wonder if that'll stop happening.

Now, I'm not a crier. As a rule, I'm more of a swearer. It freaks people out when I cry. "Kristen, I think your face is leaking." That kind of thing. But I have to tell you, when Trot stepped in for his first at-bat and 'Tek gave him the affectionate butt pat with his glove, I lost it. Couldn't handle that. Just a mess over here. And I immediately started formulating a plan for Marianne and Amy - who were both at the game - to kidnap Trot and force him to return to his rightful
place in right field at Fenway. I really don't think he'd put up much of a fight. Because, come on, a guy like that just belongs on the Sox. We never got to see the Trotter and Tavarez show and I feel like we've really missed out. I mean, just imagine those two heading up a bowling league. As we know Julian's a big bowling fan. 'Course, Trotter would likely get so much pine tar on the ball that it'd stick halfway down the alley and then he'd stalk down there, Fu Manchu twitching, all set to "give that ball some information" but really, that's half the fun. God, I miss Trotter.

I mean, during batting practice Trotter was shit-talking Remy and Orsillo while he was miked up. Making fun of Remy's mad air guitar skillz and Orsillo's chipmunk cheeks. Not to mention likely driving all of his new teammates completely insane with tales of his life as a Red
Sock. Meanwhile, I don't even know what JD Drew's voice sounds like.

Anyway, I have to admit something. You know the song "Rumpshaker?" (And if you don't, you totally can't be my friend). Anyway, I've long thought that it should be 'Tek's at-bat music, because COME ON. But Marianne and I have spent entirely too much time recently photo spamming each other with David Wright pictures and we've decided that actually, Wright needs that song but
my point is that the part at the beginning of the song where it goes, "Check, baby, check, baby, 1-2-3-4. Check, baby, check, baby, 1-2-3," etc? Yeah, I pretty much always change that in my head whenever 'Tek is up to, "Tek, baby, Tek, baby, 1-2-3-4" and so on. Is that...is that weird?

Also, what the HELL has gotten into Kevin Youkilis? He's been feasting both on opposing pitching and smoothies made of blended Awesome and ripe Kickass. The hitting streak is one thing but inside-the-park home runs? That's just madness. I can't think of someone less likely to hit an inside-the-parker. Standing, no less! I feel like it's been all Youks, all the time lately. Not that it's not deserved but damn.

I do, however,
love the Sox Appeal commercial where Pedroia and Youks and Jim Rice are talking about the concept of the show and Youks goes, "Don't be gettin' drunk, runnin' on the field, screamin'." It's excellent precisely BECAUSE Kevin Youkilis is EXACTLY the kind of dude who'd decide that the best way to impress his blind date would be to get hammered on $7 Bud Lights, run onto the field and try to fist bump the first baseman. I'm fairly certain that the fact that he IS the first baseman is the only thing keeping him from actually engaging in this behavior.

As for this
Sox Appeal business, I'm not gonna lie. I considered it. Solely so I can get to Sox games, mind you, and I'm totally willing to allow someone to film that madness and use it either for entertainment purposes or for use in a psychological study. Of course, my behavior during 'Tek's at-bats and the fact that they'd have to broadcast on a 7-second-delay to make things family friendly would likely go a long way towards explaining why I can't ever get any dates. But hey, free Sox game! No, I wouldn't do it. Not unless the dates are actually with Mike Lowell. Then I'll think about it.

And Jonathan? A word, if I may. That, dear sir, was a bit too close for comfort. Can we not do that again? Kthnx.

Meanwhile, according to ESPN.com, the Yankees have apparently turned into interior decorators. "We're going to keep rearranging the furniture until we find
something that works," [Torre] said. "Right now, we don't seem to be blending this thing very well." This, after Torre called a team meeting to presumably tell his bunch of overpaid, underperforming jackasses that he's sick of this shit and he won't hesitate to bench them all for some Little Leaguers and the residents of the East Bronx Retirement Home and, seriously, why isn't he fired yet? Hell of a lot of good it did them as the Yanks dropped their fourth game in as many tries, this time to the Jays. Wow.

And now, apparently, the latest news out of the Bronx is that Clemens won't have his first major league start against the Red Sox. I'm stoked about this for two reasons. Reason the first: the hype would eat the world and I, for one, am so
over the Roger Clemens thing that I can't even see it in my rearview mirror. And reason the second: Now we get to call him a pussy. And that's fun. Heh.

But really, can you think of a more miserable person in Major League Baseball than Brian Cashman? There simply is no one else. That man has a miserable, sad existence and is pretty much the poster boy for money being more trouble than it's worth. Now look, I don't know Brian Cashman, but I've had conversations with strangers in bars about how we wouldn't trade lives with that man for anything. The last such conversation involved a discussion about how Cashman's kids - Does he even have kids? I don't know. - probably don't listen to him and how they play him and "Uncle George" against each other. "Screw you, Dad and your 11:30 curfew. Uncle George said I don't have to come home until 2am." Seriously, no one listens to that man. And he obviously can't win for losing. Not that I mind any of this, I'm just sayin'.

And now, a pretty thing to get you through your Monday (which is actually Tuesday but you know what I mean):

In much sadder news, condolences are due to the family of Marquise Hill and the entire Patriots organization. Things like that just shouldn't happen. My thoughts go out to everyone.