Spyboys to the Rescue
Jason Varitek and Mike Lowell spent last evening orchestrating their alternate-ego show entitled "'Tek and Lowell Save the World." Or "Tek and Lowell Save Baseball." Or maybe, "Tek and Lowell Will Win This Baseball Game Because They Actually Find Julian Tavarez Rather Quite Amusing But They're Also A Little Scared of Him And Frankly, Aren't Really Sure What He Might Get Up To If He Were To Lose A Well-Pitched Game And They Suspect It Might Not Be Family-Friendly And They Just Really Don't Want Any Blood Spilled On Their Snazzy Suits." You know, something like that.
So to avoid bloodshed and further excoriation of Julio Lugo in this space, they provided all the offense and won the damn game. Because that is what good spies do. Oh, by the way, I'm totally referring to them as "spyboys" from here on out because the imagined scenarios that those two might get up to if left to their own devices are just too delicious.
But back to Tavarez. Aside from the man's more than respectable pitching this season, who would have thought, back in March when Spring Training started, that Julian Carmen Tavarez would be the cult hero of this Red Sox team? Annette and I discussed this a few weeks ago when Tavarez made the following comments to the Globe:
Everybody in baseball is holding a job for somebody else," he said. "It doesn't matter if I come out next time and pitch a perfect game. When Jon Lester comes back, the job belongs to him. He's going to be one of the greatest pitchers in baseball and I want him to have a 17-year career. "This is not about being the No. 5 starter. The thing I want for Jon is for him to be healthy. I can be seven man, eight man. It doesn't matter. I'm happy as long as I have a uniform."
Annette: OH. MY. GOD. My cold, bitter heart just swelled four sizes.
Me: If you'd told me four months ago that Julian Tavarez would be one of my favorite people, I'd have told you to lay off the drugs.
Annette: We need a Julian Tavarez bobblehead. And we need to find a pimp suit for it.
Me: I shall spend the rest of the day searching for one.
Annette: I'm finding it a purple fedora. I don't care if I have to learn how to melt plastic and mold it, the bobblehead is getting a purple fedora.
Me: With a lime green feather?
Annette: Of course. Purple fedoras ain't shit without lime green feathers.
Seriously, if anyone knows where to find a Tavarez Red Sox bobblehead, the email link is on the right. Because OH MY GOD can you even imagine? I will make it the official mascot of the blog and take it with me on baseball road trips and to Fenway and report on it's adventures around the world. The awesomeness is almost too much to imagine.
Speaking of mascots, Basegirl Enterprises has a new one (until the bobblehead shows up). I adopted a charming little 1-year-old cat yesterday. As promised, he's going by the name Dave Roberts. Although, technically, that's his show name. Because the cat in the kennel was named Rocky and, if you know me, you know that I can't very well say no to a cat named Rocky. So Dave Roberts, aka Rocky Markakat, aka D-Rock has taken up residences at Basegirl Headquarters. He's a pimp cat, this one. Bit of a strutter. This cat won't take no shit from no one. Which is just the way I like it.
And now I've become one of those people who write blog entries about their cats. Awesome.
Want me to make fun of Julio Lugo some more?