(Photo from Yahoo! Sports)
Curt Schilling is already tired of hearing you talk about Roger Clemens.
Okay, I don’t care what anyone says, the most excellent part of today’s game wasn’t Schilling’s pitching against the Twins. It wasn’t Pedroia owning Sidney Ponson. It wasn’t Ponson’s newly acquired curly mullet and it certainly wasn’t the news that the Yankees are so desperate for something good to happen that they’ve agreed to pay Roger Clemens a gajillion dollars to pitch for them like, twice. No, the most excellent part of today’s game was listening to Remy and Orsillo – mostly Orsillo – absolutely LOSE THEIR SHIT over Manny’s treatment of Julian Tavarez in the Sox dugout. As neither Manny or Tavaraz were playing today, apparently they felt they needed to entertain themselves in some other manner so Manny spent the majority of the game PETTING TAVAREZ ON THE HEAD as though he were a new pet that Manny had grown to love and keep safe forever and ever. And Orsillo? Could absolutely not handle that. He actually resorted to BEGGING FOR THEM TO STOP. And the camera crew, because they’re wonderful and fantastic and I love them so very much, would do no such thing. Repeated shots of Manny molesting Tavarez in the dugout were shown, specifically, I choose to believe, to make Orsillo actually suffer a break from reality and start singing show tunes.
“You know,” Remy said, “When the Manny Ramirez Era ends in Boston, it’s going to be a very sad time.” How right he is. And he wasn’t talking about his hitting.
The whole thing was, in a word, excellent.
The game was pretty excellent as well, save for Schilling going all Matsuzaka and losing his control for an inning. Seriously, what is up with this team and their one inning control issues? They’re all cruising along, all “La la la, I’m facing Sidney Ponson. That’s hilarious, woop de doo” and then, BAM! Can’t find the strike zone. Can we get someone on this? Is it a psychological thing? Like how Derek Lowe always used to have first inning issues and we’ll hold our collective breath, promising small animal sacrifices if he’d somehow make it out of the inning without making the Derek Lowe Face? Is it gonna be like that? Because I’m not sure I can take that. Especially with the added fun that no one really knows what inning Matsuzaka or his friends will choose to go all “spells of wildness” on us. “Spells of wildness” being Don Orsillo’s apparent catchphrase this season.
Of course, then there was Papelbon, evidently still in “kill mode.” And when Papelbon tells you to sit down, I do believe you listen. After all, as Remy told us all on Friday, Papelbon really likes the beds in Minnesota. So if he’s been getting a good night’s rest, well, you’re probably in trouble.
The whole bed thing then prompted a three-inning diatribe between the two jokers in the broadcast booth about Posteurpedic beds and vibrating beds and how Remy has switched to the mechanical bull and honestly? I don’t even know. But I am really, really glad that someone’s been spiking the booth’s coffee. Because those guys are entertaining.
Also entertaining is the realization that Wily Mo could not possibly be more Pedro Cerrano from “Major League.” Not even if he started dressing his bats in golf club cozies. I mean, honestly, “Straight ball, I hit very much.” That’s pretty much Wily Mo for ya, right there. I wonder how long before we start hearing stories about live chicken sacrifices in the clubhouse.
Apparently, the theme for this entry is “animal sacrifices.” Huh. Didn’t plan that.
But while we’re on the subject, George better get that truckload of Original Recipe ready since Roger’s comin’ to town. I’m sure he and Andy Pettitte have spent the day skipping through a field of daisies and singing “Reunited and it feels so good!” to each other. And that’s lovely and all but, here’s the thing: everyone keeps saying, “Oh my god, can you imagine a Yankee rotation with Pettitte, Mussina and Clemens?” And I have to reply, “Why yes, yes I can. In fact, I’m getting an odd sense of déjà vu. It’s like everything is the same, except FOUR YEARS OLDER.” So really, calm the hell down.
And before all the Yankee fans start in all, “You wouldn’t say that if he’d gone to the Sox,” I would like to point out that I NEVER wanted him to come back to Boston. I didn’t want that a few years ago when he held Major League Baseball hostage the first time with his “I’m retiring. Or am I?” horseshit and I don’t want it now. Some things, I will forgive. But Roger Clemens broke my heart when I was sixteen-years-old and when a sixteen-year-old girl gets her heart broken, she is going to remember that forever. So enjoy New York, Roger. I’m sure you and Andy will be very happy together. But take it from A-Rod, if the road gets a little rocky, you might have to put a stop to those five-night-a-week sleepovers.