I hope the Rocket backfires

"Here we go again," Clemens said. "I'm going to give it a shot. I don't necessarily know that I need to or that I want to, but I'm committed."

Sorry in advance, Amy, if this offends, but CAN'T SOMEONE JUST TAKE HIM OUT BACK AND SHOOT HIM AND BE DONE WITH THE WHOLE THING? Roger Clemens is rapidly eclipsing Michael Jordan as "That Guy Who Just Won't Go Away", except that MJ was beloved by a whole city, whereas Clemens has managed to alienate most of Red Sox Nation, probably any Mets fan that remembers the 2000 season, any Yankees fan that remembers his farewell tour in 2003 (and paid top dollar for tickets), and any other fans who are just tired of his antics. While I admire the man's physical discipline and the fact that he can still play pro ball while his son is in the minors, his undoubtably Hall-of-Fame career (in whichever hat he chooses) has been overshadowed by his on-again-off-again retirement status, and at least in my personal opinion, a baseball player who doesn't travel with his team even on days he doesn't pitch isn't giving it all that the game deserves. If you don't want to pitch, Roger, then DON'T, if you do, God bless you, but just remember you could have gone out so much higher than this.

and this is the reason for chickball

This weekend while I was in Houston, a bet was made in the midst of a random night with old friends and people I'd never met before. This bet was made with one of the males I'd never met before.

Situation:
I randomly insert something about the Red Sox into the conversation even though we are not talking about anything remotely related to baseball or the Red Sox. I have a tendency to do that. Random male who I met maybe three hours ago immediately jumps on the fact that I have just mentioned baseball and says something about Manny Ramirez. He includes the press favorite "Manny being Manny" phrase. I jump on this. He claims his love for baseball and the Astros. I claim my ever-loving obsession with baseball and baseball and the Red Sox. He challenges me.

At this point, my friends from high school warn random male that he should not enter into any discussion or challenge about baseball, and especially the Red Sox, with me if he values his macho sport pride. He fails to listen.

We begin talking about Fenway Park. Somehow its size comes up and I mention how many seats there are in Fenway. He claims there's no way there are more than 36 thousand seats in Fenway (2005 season was 36,298... now it's 38,805, but is usually 1500-2000 below capacity), and that there aren't more than 28 thousand. I cry foul. My friends warn him again, but he pushes the envelope and wants to bet me.

Now let me comment that I have never made a real money bet in my life. I'm just not the betting type. But here, I had something to prove. Girls can know baseball. And I knew I was right.

I made five dollars. Hotcha.

Eau de Chacin?

I know Suzie found this equally amusing, but did anyone else catch the bit about Gustavo Chacin's new line of cologne during last night's Red Sox-Blue Jays broadcast? This was all the more amusing because earlier, I'd been contemplating, "Who's the worst looking: Nick Johnson (AKA Sloth from The Goonies), Jay Gibbons or Gustavo Chacin?" What person in their right mind would run out and buy Gustavo Chacin's cologne? I imagine it to be something like Brian Fantana's Sex Panther scent in Anchorman. "It smells like turd covered in burnt hair." "It smells like, like a used diaper... filled with... Indian food."

You know, anyone who says baseball is boring isn't following the sport closely enough. The Athlete Entertainment Factor is truly astounding.

oh no he didn't

Dearly beloved,

We are gathered here today to mourn the passing of Theo Epstein's bachelorhood.

All of us, from the ones who were going to marry him (i.e., Suzie) to the ones who were going to shut up and deal with it or else suddenly find their invitations to the wedding rescinded (i.e., Beth, Pam), will dearly miss the way Theo's single status tantalized and entertained us on a daily basis. We shall never again stare at Boston Globe file photos and think of how when we are married to him, we will make sure his shirts are ironed because for God's sake, no one should leave the house like that. We will miss the girlish thrill of writing "Mrs. Theo Epstein" all over our presidential history notes as if we are in fifth grade when we are in fact college students with jobs, loans, and Massachusetts liquor IDs. And words cannot describe the depression we feel when we realize that our contingency plan has been shot to hell and we shall actually have to find real boyfriends, wooing them with a combination of our sharp wit and appealing desperation, and that these real boyfriends will likely not be able to get our dads Manny Ramirez' autograph.

We will all deal with this in our own ways. Some will put on a brave face and continue as if nothing has happened; others will mourn privately; and still others will play Joy Division on their iPod and curl up into a small ball, glugging wine straight from the bottle and howling inarticulately into the phone at those who are putting on brave faces or mourning privately. But through the grief, we should remain hopeful that this, too, shall pass. We should not entertain thoughts of seeking out Theo's fiancee and stealing her ring through an elaborately concocted plan involving a bit of string, some strawberry jam, and a fairly exciteable rabbit. We should not contemplate throwing ourselves off the BU Bridge and impaling ourselves on a sailboat mast. There are other attractive, unattached, well-educated whiz kids on the horizon. Jed Hoyer was still single, the last time we checked.

Mourners, dwell not on this tragedy. We will recover; we will move on; and we will prosper in spite of the events which have transpired this week. I leave you with one thought, a thought that should raise your spirits -- at least you don't have to shred 500 pre-printed nondenominational wedding invitations whimsically shaped as baseballs that have just been rendered totally useless.

Thank you, and God bless.

The mustachioed, tall man who plants thoughts in A-Rod's head

So, I couldn't resist making a post in regards to the Boston Globe article about A-Rod's mental performance coach. It is, after all, one of the more hilarious things I've ever read. AND it's about everyone's favorite MVP, Alex "I want to be introduced as a new superstar on a late night talk show" Rodriguez.

Let me get this straight, Alex. You repeat to yourself the mantra, "I hit solid with an accelerated bat head." (*snicker*) And you also sign your text messages with "AROD." You call yourself A-Rod. Now THAT is too good to be true.

This guy Jim Fannin, the self-proclaimed America's ZoneCoach, has an interesting idea here. Sure, his "secret formula for thinking like a champion" (although not so secret anymore) may work for some. And kudos to him for making millions off of idiot professional athletes because he's "like Denny's. I don't close."

But wherever you are, Stan Grossfeld (the genius who penned the article), how bout you try for a different approach next time instead of making it a melodramatic love story starring A-Rod and Fannin.

"They met in Milwaukee in late April '96, introduced by Rodriguez's Seattle Mariners teammate, Joey Cora."

Awwwww.

But my favorite part?

"He [Fannin] says only one player -- former Red Sox first baseman Mo Vaughn, then of the Mets -- has not paid him. 'I delivered the goods and paid my own expenses, but he still owes me $14,000,' he said. Efforts to reach Vaughn were unsuccessful."

I always knew I loved Mo Vaughn.

Oh, and if there are any pitchers reading this... I hit solid, too.

on national broadcasting

FACT: There are 10 people in America who still care about the NBA. They are as follows --
1. Bill Simmons
2. Rob Thomas, creator of Veronica Mars and a major Spurs fan
3. My friend Jeff
4. Bob Ryan of the Boston Globe
5. David Stern, because he kinda has to

... and I don't know who the rest of them are.

The point is, all of them -- except for Jeff, but whatever, he's Jeff and has the attention span of a gnat -- are rich enough to pay for premium cable services, whereas I am impoverished (yet, for some reason, wearing $32 eyeliner). I seriously do not care about the NBA and really haven't since 2001 or thereabouts. I used to -- hell, I wanted to be Larry Bird when I was 2. Had the jersey and everything, f'reals. But I don't anymore, and I'm not the only person who feels that way.

In fact, y'know what I want to be watching right now? Giants-A's. First of all, it's the best "natural rivalry" when it comes time for interleague -- sorry, kids, y'all know how I feel about New York, and the White Sox are no match for the Cubbies in terms of fanbase -- and second of all, you'd think that BONDSWATCH! would merit some sort of national coverage. My interest in this game has less to do with BONDSWATCH! than it does with Stoned Danny Haren and Hottie Noah Lowry, but I would have fully expected ESPN to carry this game nationally. Instead, I'm stuck with a basketball game that no one cares about on the primary network and freaking BOXING on the Deuce.

And I have a really hard time believing that more people care about boxing than baseball. I have accepted football's recreational dominance -- although not in New England -- but I refuse to believe that boxing should usurp the National M-Fing Pasttime when it comes to media coverage.

Know your audience, ESPN. Know your audience.

In conclusion, I am irritated, and I am stuck following Giants-A's on MLB Gameday while hoping for snatches of video on NESN's Extra Innings. And while Dennis Eckersley is cool as hell, I'd rather be watching the real thing.

*

In other news, my PapelBoyfriend has hair again. I'm excited, that's for sure.

How do these people FIND me?

Yankee Fan Alex: [toasting] To the Yankees!
My Friend Elissa: Haha, uh oh. Bad move. Pam's a huge Red Sox fan.
Yankee Fan Alex: Oooooh. Well, the Yankees are the better team, which I'm sure you knew.
Me: Yeah, they're especially good with Matsui. Oh wait, he broke his wrist. Awww, what a shame.
Yankee Fan Alex: You Sox fans are so mean-spirited.

For all those who will appreciate the humor in this, I spent an entire evening with a guy who turned out to be not only a Yankees fan but the president of the Princeton College Republicans. That's right. Something else to add to my lexicon of bizarre and ironic encounters.

widely known factoids, but with personal commentary

1. Randy Johnson looked like an old man tonight when the Soxies bowled him over.
**Oh, wait, he is an old man.

2. Why is Roger Clemens entitled to randomly show up in the middle of the season (June 15. JUNE!?!) now that his family is "warming up to the idea of him coming back for ONE LAST season" (courtesy of NESN Sports Desk)? Sure, he's one of the greats, and sure, I'd love for him to be back with the Astros (although they seem to be doing pretty well without him so far), or the Sox (although that seems like a long shot), but I still don't see why that gives him free reign over all the typical rules of baseball contracts and normality. Of course, the man is sort of a machine, so I guess that takes care of the "free reign over normality" part. Clemens is becoming the Michael Jordan of baseball retirement.

3. Barry Bonds is one home run from the Babe.
**Basically, who cares? He's coming in SECOND, not breaking the all-time record. And few things can set me on a rampage in baseball more than the subject of Barry f'in' Bonds. But today's Dugout did a good job of summing it up. Thank you, Dugout, for making my hate for BB more bearable through your humour.

4. Commentary on the evil empire:
**Johnny Damon still looks like a freak with no hair. Well, he looked like a freak before, but now he looks like a freak who's not trying to look like a freak. And he sort of looks like my ex, which freaks me out even more.
**Giambi ALWAYS looks like he just took a grease bath, whether he's been on the field for 5 minutes, in the dugout the whole game, or just finished playing a game. Every time I look at him the greasiness makes me want to send him some exfoliant. Except not because he has a lot more money than I do so he should buy it for himself.
**See comment number one.
**When I see A-Rod make errors, especially against the Sox (ie: 2 tonight), I just can't help but get great joy out of it. And it makes me a little irritated because I hate being "that fan" but A-Rod just grinds my last nerve and it's too bad.

And to leave with a final thought, I suck at fantasy and I'm almost on the brink of giving up already.

this is depressing.

So, as previously predicted by me, the Cubbies are sucking. Sucking on the mound, at bat, in the field, just plain overall sucking. Not like I know first hand, mind you, since I don't actually see any Cubs games out here, but even if I did, I would turn them off because in the past 6 games the Cubs have been outscored 45-5. I'm sure we could chalk this up to playing great teams and not being up to par. But no, those past 6 games were played against (I am not making this up) Milwaukee, Pittsburgh, and Arizona. I will pause while you gasp in horror and alarm.

Alright, so what's going on here? Why is a team that was set up to do awesome this season swan-diving into the bottom half of the NL Central? To start off with, they're not hitting, which doesn't seem important unless you actually know the rules of baseball. Dusty Baker's summation: "We're just not getting good at-bats with runners in scoring position. We're in a bad way right now. We can't buy a run." But even if they could buy a run, they probably wouldn't because the Tribune Co is getting stingy. Whatever. The solution, obviously, is to perform a strange baseball voodoo dance to reclaim any remaining good luck allotted to the team. Yes.

Another problem with the Cubs is the pitching. The guy who screwed the pooch yesterday against the D-Backs was a call-up from the prestigious Iowa Cubs, and it was his first game. On the first game of your major-league team, do you really want to give up 2 home runs? No. So why was this kid even on the mound? Because Glendon Rusch was put in the bullpen for sucking. And Kerry Wood is still injured. And Mark Prior has food poisoning and a strained shoulder. And Wade Miller went home to get his shoulder looked at. This sounds like a gorram sitcom guys! So, that leaves the Cubs with AAA guys, chat-room skank Carlos Zambrano, and Greg Maddox, whose jockstraps I would gladly bleach.

Yes, I will be wearing my Red Sox hat for a little while longer it seems.

it was a good run, papelboyfriend.

Let's all have a moment of silence for Jonathan Papelbon's perfect ERA, perfect record, and status as my baseball boyfriend of the month.*


* -- okay, so this has a lot more to do with his recent hairstyle choices than anything else; I wouldn't really dump the boy** for allowing a run, you know

** -- yes, I do realize that he is married to a lady named Ashley and I am not her, as my mother reminds me about eight times a day

*

Additionally, I'd like to thank Mr. Mike Anton (that's Manton, to be precise) for linking to Chickball over at Almost Enlightening. Oh, Manton, you stereotype-challenging Yankees fan, you.