(Photo from Boston.com)
I imagine from a strictly PR standpoint that it would have been awfully awkward for Theo to have to explain to everyone that your closer du jour, Jonathan Papelbon, would not be available to pitch in the ALDS against the Angels starting Wednesday because he injured himself "dancing an Irish jig on the Fenway mound during a champagne- and beer-soaked celebration."
Luckily, aside from the damage no doubt inflicted on his blood alcohol content, it appears no harm was done.
But is it just me, or are we all just a leetle bit afraid of Jonathan Papelbon now? I've said before that knowing he's sitting there in the bullpen with nothing to do is just inviting an explosion or some such tomfoolery but letting the lad loose with alcohol is perhaps more dangerous. I'm going to have to agree with Luna when she says that "Red Sox Nation should refer to Friday night's celebration as The First Annual Jonathan Papelbon Pants-Off Dance-Off." God help us all if there's a second annual.
I wonder if that's the thing about particularly effective closers, though. Do they have to be just a little bit insane? Or in Paps' case, wear their insanity in the form of sliding shorts and bare feet while performing Riverdance on a sopping wet mound and assaulting terrified-looking Japanese pitchers and translators alike? I think Mike Lowell wore a facial expression for all of us when he observed Paps with a mixture of wonder, amusement, and concern throughout the course of the celebration.
Then there's the little matter of the fact that, when the celebration began, Jonathan Papelbon wasn't wearing any pants. And by this point, we know the timeline. The Sox game ended and everyone changed out of their uniforms and into shorts, t-shirts, etc, and sat around watching the Yankees/Orioles game finish. Leading me to believe that Papelbon just generally lounges around in a jockstrap without pants on. Which, actually, would mean he'd get along really well with plenty of my friends. I'm just glad that the enduring moment of the Red Sox division-clinching celebration is Jonathan Papelbon's bare ass flying across the screen behind a sopping wet Tina Cervasio. Good show, sir.
But now we move on. We get a day of respite (only one because the Pats play the Bengals tonight on Monday Night Football and we cannot rest when there is Patriot football to be played), and then the tension ratchets up another level as the Sox take on the Angels in the ALDS at Fenway. Deja vu, anyone? Here's hoping.
Oh, and while I'm here, I would also like to thank the Red Sox for not being the Mets. Awwww, David Wright is the saddest little Pop Tart you ever did see. I hope Cleveland handles the Yankees, just to make the Mets happy.