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

Friday, May 04, 2007

Manny Ramirez Doesn't Understand What All the Fuss is About

Manny, looking like a non-crazy person. Huh.

It's not that Manny is disrespecting the opposing pitchers when he hits his home runs. It's more like he just thinks they're so pretty and he can't help but admire them. I mean, we've all seen Manny jump up and down like an overexcited four-year-old when his teammates hit home runs so clearly, the dude just likes watching home runs. But Marianne nailed it, "It's not that he's pimping, it's that he's giving them the once over like dudes due to hot chicks."

"You're so right," I said, "He's doing the up and down, Joey Tribbiani 'How YOU doin'?'"

"He can't help it," Marianne said, "His home runs are fucking hot."

Good thing too as they were both sorely needed last night. I'm not sure how you say it in Japanese but could someone translate the following and deliver the message to Matsuzaka:

Get your shit together, sir.

Because, damn.

I called my dad after the second of Lugo's first inning brain farts and demanded that he explain to me, using small words and calm language, why Alex Gonzalez was no longer on the team. He gave me a bewildered, "I don't know." And that's not a phrase The Rick utters often.

Of course, then he left me a message after Lugo's ground rule double asking me of I liked him any better now. The answer, of course, being no. I will continue not to like him so long as he continues not to be Alex Gonzalez. Back rubs for Manny notwithstanding, the dude is shifty and I don't trust him. It's getting to the point where a ball is hit to short and I have that reflexive "Oh god, it's headed to Renteria, someone hold me," reaction. That can't be good.

So I started drinking because, what else can you do? I told Marianne that I had talked to my mom earlier in the day and my mom, who pretends like she thinks there are too many baseball games on TV and she can't possibly keep up with all of it said to me, "Did you see that catch Coco made?"

This started a discussion about how my mom is a much bigger fan that she pretends to be and how she knows exactly what's going on - as most moms do - and how she would totally get along with Tek and Mike Lowell.

Mostly because she and Tek could scrapbook together and she could show him an attractive way to display all his opposing hitters data in his Trapper Keepers, like maybe by putting sad face stickers next to A-Rod's data or something.

And she and Mike Lowell would have a lively discussion about wine vintages. Lowell claiming that he really feels Napa's vineyards are overrated and she should really try a lovely Australian shiraz.

Then she'd probably have to break up a fight between my brother and Dustin Pedroia over the foosball table as we know that Pedroia is not shy about picking fights with those bigger than him and my brother once famously told my friend who was teamed up with him in a friendly fooseball tournament, "I like to win."

So basically, my mom needs to somehow become the Red Sox team mom. Who's with me?

Oh, and for the record, unless the hat he's wearing somehow prevents Tom Brady from throwing touchdown passes and winning Super Bowls and generally being all-around awesome, I don't care if he wears one of those beanies with a propeller. Seriously, didn't someone get arrested or something? Didn't Barry Bonds do something? Didn't Manny say something ridiculous. Surely we have something more important to talk about.