A snippet from the on-air commentary from tonight's Red Sox game.
Don Orsillo: I think the Bruins are playing the Redwings tonight.
Jerry Remy: Oh. Are they on NESN?
Don Orsillo: No. We're on NESN.
Showing posts with label Red Sox. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Red Sox. Show all posts
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Manny season
Is Manny an idiot savant or the anti-christ?
Say what you will about Manny Ramirez--and it's all been said--the man can sum it up. Commenting on the latest scuffle with Red Sox management, Ramirez said: "They're tired of me, I'm tired of them."
Everyone was screaming for Manny's dreadlocked head until he went three-for-five, bashing a couple of doubles against the Yanks (oh, and ran through a stop sign to score). Then the crowd was in his pocket again.
Face it, this happens like clockwork every year. The sun rises, the sun sets, and Manny decides he wants to leave Boston. Then he goes on a tear.
Say what you will about Manny Ramirez--and it's all been said--the man can sum it up. Commenting on the latest scuffle with Red Sox management, Ramirez said: "They're tired of me, I'm tired of them."
Everyone was screaming for Manny's dreadlocked head until he went three-for-five, bashing a couple of doubles against the Yanks (oh, and ran through a stop sign to score). Then the crowd was in his pocket again.
Face it, this happens like clockwork every year. The sun rises, the sun sets, and Manny decides he wants to leave Boston. Then he goes on a tear.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
First Fenway pitch will bring chills
When Red Sox co-owner Tom Werner hinted that the mystery guest throwing out today's first pitch at Fenway would bring chills to spectators, there were two immediate guesses:
One: Ted Williams' head
Two: Bill Bucker.
Speaking as one of the millions scarred by the 1986 Series, I never held it against Buckner. He hit a a ton even though he could barely walk. He should never have been left in the game for the infamous grounder. There were lots of facets to that loss.
Contrary to myth, Buckner got a warm ovation from the gazillions at the Boston parade for the near-champions. (Only Boston throws parades for losers, but that's another topic.) An ovation compelled him to speak at the City Hall Plaza finale.
He stuck around long enough to open up a batting cage in Waltham, but
given the morons around here, things went downhill for Buckner in Beantown after. You can't blame him for decamping to Idaho.
Others have started Forgive Buckner groundswells in the past. He has nothing to be forgiven for but it'll still be nice to have him back at the fens.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Gagne takes show on the road, same result
Former Red Sox reliever (and I use the term loosely) Eric Gagne has debuted with the Brewers. Headline: Eric Gagne Update: Horrific, per usual
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Let it snow, let snow, let it...Enough already!
Everyone had pretty much panicked the day before, so by the time I left work around 2 pm on Thursday I was sick of hearing about the snow. Clearing off the rig in Framingham was no biggie. There were a couple inches, but it was light, fluffy fairy powder. Like movie snow.
No problemo.
About two miles later, problemo. The turn off from to the Shoppers World cut-through was unplowed. No one wanted to chance it. The growing caravan of still-moving-but-slow-as-crap traffic continued east.
Half mile later: Gridlock. Took 40 minutes minimum to make it to Speen Street. Then we sat. And sat. And watched the lights by Neiman Marcus cycle through over. And over. And over again.
Still, chin up. It’s a good time to catch up on the AM talk loonies. Plus it was the steroid hearing day. Nothing to do but punch in WEEI and listen to the George Mitchell press conference. Hell if I’ stayed at work, I would have missed this and it was juicy. Pun intended.
Word had percolated earlier that morning that the hated Roger Clemens was named. Since he chucked the business end of a broken bat at Mike Piazza in the world series many had pegged Roger as a roid-rager. But Andy Pettite? INT-eresting.
And Miguel Tejada? Rafael Palmeiro had thrown him under the bus already, but was kinda hoping it wasn’t true.
You could almost hear fellow road-refugees heave a collective sigh of relief when it became clear that none of the Red Sox heroes were listed. No Manny Ramirez. No Big Papi. Although most who’ve watched the team know that Manny’s probable drug-of-choice is by no means performance enhancing. If you catch my drift.
The EEI guys were blaring on and on self-righteously about an earlier MSNBC report that Jason Varitek had been “named.” But then he hadn’t been. So the long knives were out for MSNBC and whoever the blogger was that desecrated the captain’s good name. Listening to those boyz get all holier than thou was a little much.
The snow kept coming.
Apparently a Yankees trainer had blown the whistle on Rocket Roger, Pettite and others. Brian Macnamee.
About an hour later, still on Speen (the stretch between Route 9 and the Mass Pike entrance is maybe two miles. Maybe.) Greg from Plymouth called in to opine that “Eric Gagne quit juicing too soon.” Couldn’t he have sucked it up another season instead of imploding at Fenway? The guy was a disaster.
Gotta love these guys.
Another hour slugged by. We’d memorized the facades of Neiman Marcus and Home Depot. It was Bud Selig’s turn. (Let it be said that the
”Selig Sucks” T-shirt, bought outside Fenway, remains the best present of all time.)
Selig said he will Take Action! Unilateral Action Where Possible! But clearly this mess is the players’ fault, the union’s fault. Face it; It’s all on Donald Fehr. Where was Selig when the players were achieving full pumpitude and slamming record home runs and saving the game from strike fallout? I’ll tell you where: He was counting the leagues money and covering owners’ asses? “Hind sight is 20 20,” says Bud in the press conference. Puhleazze.
At one point, he actually said he hadn’t read the whole report. Come again? Isn’t this what he paid $20 million of fan’s dollars for? And hadn’t he had it for three days? if his eyes are tired or he can’t read, couldn’t one of his minions read it to him? Come on! And we wonder why baseball’s reputation—if not its coffers—is in tatters.
Ted from Marlborough calls: “What’s it say when the guy with the most credibility in baseball is Jose Canseco?”
Point taken.
EEI guys reports that Canseco was denied access to the press conference and pitched a fit.
Ah, the pike. NOW things will move.
Wrong again.
The parking lot stretches through the tollbooth onto the onramp. When we move, it’s at a walker’s pace. A slow walker. The speedometer barely budges. It takes another hour plus to get to the Route 128 tolls. People get out of their cars to clear windshields and back windows. We’ve been sitting still for so long that back windows jam up repeatedly.
My primary concern became the state of my bladder. Back window snowed in again.
Wonder where Brian Macnamee and that other guy—Kirk Radomski are right now. Undisclosed location no doubt.
As we crawl towards exit 17, it’s now dark, the snow continues. People start merging to toward the right miles ahead. Stuck in the second right lane, I start to wonder if anyone will let merge right in the foreseeable future. Doubtful.
Murray from Newton rings in to say that given the news on Clemens, the whole region, nay the whole Red Sox nation owes Dan Duquette an apology. Maybe Clemens really was in the twilight of his career when the Sox let him go. His renaissance with the Blue Jays and Yanks is now forever suspect, he says.
Tom Caron, of NESN and also an EEI guy, says Clemens could have been using while at the Sox. Bold words for a company man. Of course Sox ownership has changed since then.
Hallelujah. The pike-straddling Star Market appears on the horizon. I call home to see what the state of the local roads is. Answer? Unplowed.
Given that there’s a large hill between the exit and home, the new master plan, if the exit is navigable, is to park in the old Cahners building and hit Buff’s Pub for a burger and the facilities. And wait for the local plows to do their thing.
Hallucinatory burger images and smells tantalize. Bourbon would be nice too. And Buff’s has great fries. And a bathroom. Bingo.
The ramp is a mile away. No need to worry about merging right. Everyone is merging right. Including the morons in the far left lane. It occurs in the three plus hours I’ve been on the pike, no plow or sander has been seen in either direction. Then again, how could they fit?
A car stopped on the ramp, which on a good day has one and a half lanes. Extraordinarily enough, there is orderly merging around the poor schlub who either ran out of gas or just couldn’t make it up the grade. Even odder, there’s hardly any traffic on the Centre Street rotary. Red letter day. This is always a snarl. It looks like I could shoot right over to Watertown Square but bladder conditions forbid the attempt.
Breezed into the old Cahners digs. Cut through the building, past Pizzeria Uno’s to Washington street. Try to grab a Globe out of the street box. The coin changer doesn’t work
Catastophe: Buff’s is closed. Back to Uno’s which never looked so good.
Back through the drifts to the Pizzeria Uno where the tables are packed but a bar stool awaits.
Bourbon, I tell the bartender. “Make it a double,” chime in the two guys adjacent. First one’s from Colorado in town for business, The other, from Rhode Island, gave up on his commute and checked into the Sheraton across the street. The bar over there was overwhelmed so Uno’s wins the runoff.
The bar’s abuzz about Clemens and Pettite. And Mo Vaughan. “There’s a guy who didn’t need to bulk up,” says Rhode Island.
Colorado is amazed that a whole region gets shut down by a measly 10 inches of snow. He’s shot down. “Rockies fan,” someone mutters.
Another guy pulls up a chair. New Yorker. Doesn’t have much to say vis a vis Roger or Andy. Nurses his beer glumly. Orders dinner to go. Someone mentions Chuck Knoblauch and New Yorker practically erupts. “I HATE THAT GUY. Steroids was the LEAST of his problems.” Then no one can shut him up.
The bourbon is deelish. The chicken may have been the best ever. Six hours in a motionless car blinded by snow does funny things to you.
I call in for local road update and get the hi sign.
Centre Street is still slick but car-free. So too, miraculously, is Watertown square. Common Street looks bad, as I hit the hill. Some moron has stopped in the road. Bourbon- emboldened I blow by on the left. Life lesson from Vermont: Never, ever slow on the up hill or you’re dead meat.
The ranch never looked so good. Time: 8:20. It took six hours to cover 15 miles—including dinner.
No problemo.
About two miles later, problemo. The turn off from to the Shoppers World cut-through was unplowed. No one wanted to chance it. The growing caravan of still-moving-but-slow-as-crap traffic continued east.
Half mile later: Gridlock. Took 40 minutes minimum to make it to Speen Street. Then we sat. And sat. And watched the lights by Neiman Marcus cycle through over. And over. And over again.
Still, chin up. It’s a good time to catch up on the AM talk loonies. Plus it was the steroid hearing day. Nothing to do but punch in WEEI and listen to the George Mitchell press conference. Hell if I’ stayed at work, I would have missed this and it was juicy. Pun intended.
Word had percolated earlier that morning that the hated Roger Clemens was named. Since he chucked the business end of a broken bat at Mike Piazza in the world series many had pegged Roger as a roid-rager. But Andy Pettite? INT-eresting.
And Miguel Tejada? Rafael Palmeiro had thrown him under the bus already, but was kinda hoping it wasn’t true.
You could almost hear fellow road-refugees heave a collective sigh of relief when it became clear that none of the Red Sox heroes were listed. No Manny Ramirez. No Big Papi. Although most who’ve watched the team know that Manny’s probable drug-of-choice is by no means performance enhancing. If you catch my drift.
The EEI guys were blaring on and on self-righteously about an earlier MSNBC report that Jason Varitek had been “named.” But then he hadn’t been. So the long knives were out for MSNBC and whoever the blogger was that desecrated the captain’s good name. Listening to those boyz get all holier than thou was a little much.
The snow kept coming.
Apparently a Yankees trainer had blown the whistle on Rocket Roger, Pettite and others. Brian Macnamee.
About an hour later, still on Speen (the stretch between Route 9 and the Mass Pike entrance is maybe two miles. Maybe.) Greg from Plymouth called in to opine that “Eric Gagne quit juicing too soon.” Couldn’t he have sucked it up another season instead of imploding at Fenway? The guy was a disaster.
Gotta love these guys.
Another hour slugged by. We’d memorized the facades of Neiman Marcus and Home Depot. It was Bud Selig’s turn. (Let it be said that the
”Selig Sucks” T-shirt, bought outside Fenway, remains the best present of all time.)
Selig said he will Take Action! Unilateral Action Where Possible! But clearly this mess is the players’ fault, the union’s fault. Face it; It’s all on Donald Fehr. Where was Selig when the players were achieving full pumpitude and slamming record home runs and saving the game from strike fallout? I’ll tell you where: He was counting the leagues money and covering owners’ asses? “Hind sight is 20 20,” says Bud in the press conference. Puhleazze.
At one point, he actually said he hadn’t read the whole report. Come again? Isn’t this what he paid $20 million of fan’s dollars for? And hadn’t he had it for three days? if his eyes are tired or he can’t read, couldn’t one of his minions read it to him? Come on! And we wonder why baseball’s reputation—if not its coffers—is in tatters.
Ted from Marlborough calls: “What’s it say when the guy with the most credibility in baseball is Jose Canseco?”
Point taken.
EEI guys reports that Canseco was denied access to the press conference and pitched a fit.
Ah, the pike. NOW things will move.
Wrong again.
The parking lot stretches through the tollbooth onto the onramp. When we move, it’s at a walker’s pace. A slow walker. The speedometer barely budges. It takes another hour plus to get to the Route 128 tolls. People get out of their cars to clear windshields and back windows. We’ve been sitting still for so long that back windows jam up repeatedly.
My primary concern became the state of my bladder. Back window snowed in again.
Wonder where Brian Macnamee and that other guy—Kirk Radomski are right now. Undisclosed location no doubt.
As we crawl towards exit 17, it’s now dark, the snow continues. People start merging to toward the right miles ahead. Stuck in the second right lane, I start to wonder if anyone will let merge right in the foreseeable future. Doubtful.
Murray from Newton rings in to say that given the news on Clemens, the whole region, nay the whole Red Sox nation owes Dan Duquette an apology. Maybe Clemens really was in the twilight of his career when the Sox let him go. His renaissance with the Blue Jays and Yanks is now forever suspect, he says.
Tom Caron, of NESN and also an EEI guy, says Clemens could have been using while at the Sox. Bold words for a company man. Of course Sox ownership has changed since then.
Hallelujah. The pike-straddling Star Market appears on the horizon. I call home to see what the state of the local roads is. Answer? Unplowed.
Given that there’s a large hill between the exit and home, the new master plan, if the exit is navigable, is to park in the old Cahners building and hit Buff’s Pub for a burger and the facilities. And wait for the local plows to do their thing.
Hallucinatory burger images and smells tantalize. Bourbon would be nice too. And Buff’s has great fries. And a bathroom. Bingo.
The ramp is a mile away. No need to worry about merging right. Everyone is merging right. Including the morons in the far left lane. It occurs in the three plus hours I’ve been on the pike, no plow or sander has been seen in either direction. Then again, how could they fit?
A car stopped on the ramp, which on a good day has one and a half lanes. Extraordinarily enough, there is orderly merging around the poor schlub who either ran out of gas or just couldn’t make it up the grade. Even odder, there’s hardly any traffic on the Centre Street rotary. Red letter day. This is always a snarl. It looks like I could shoot right over to Watertown Square but bladder conditions forbid the attempt.
Breezed into the old Cahners digs. Cut through the building, past Pizzeria Uno’s to Washington street. Try to grab a Globe out of the street box. The coin changer doesn’t work
Catastophe: Buff’s is closed. Back to Uno’s which never looked so good.
Back through the drifts to the Pizzeria Uno where the tables are packed but a bar stool awaits.
Bourbon, I tell the bartender. “Make it a double,” chime in the two guys adjacent. First one’s from Colorado in town for business, The other, from Rhode Island, gave up on his commute and checked into the Sheraton across the street. The bar over there was overwhelmed so Uno’s wins the runoff.
The bar’s abuzz about Clemens and Pettite. And Mo Vaughan. “There’s a guy who didn’t need to bulk up,” says Rhode Island.
Colorado is amazed that a whole region gets shut down by a measly 10 inches of snow. He’s shot down. “Rockies fan,” someone mutters.
Another guy pulls up a chair. New Yorker. Doesn’t have much to say vis a vis Roger or Andy. Nurses his beer glumly. Orders dinner to go. Someone mentions Chuck Knoblauch and New Yorker practically erupts. “I HATE THAT GUY. Steroids was the LEAST of his problems.” Then no one can shut him up.
The bourbon is deelish. The chicken may have been the best ever. Six hours in a motionless car blinded by snow does funny things to you.
I call in for local road update and get the hi sign.
Centre Street is still slick but car-free. So too, miraculously, is Watertown square. Common Street looks bad, as I hit the hill. Some moron has stopped in the road. Bourbon- emboldened I blow by on the left. Life lesson from Vermont: Never, ever slow on the up hill or you’re dead meat.
The ranch never looked so good. Time: 8:20. It took six hours to cover 15 miles—including dinner.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Papelbon rising
Okay, not to pile on the whole Red Sox-as-dynasty theme (although I hope it’s true) but here’s why I like this particular Soxian vintage.
First, they’re not all prepackaged and gee-swell-wholesome. Jonathan Papelbon has sported a world-class hangover since the clincher on Sunday. In fact, he apparently has lost the World Series Game Four game ball. These guys can not hold on to their championship mementos to save their lives.
Anyway, on Monday Papelbon, with his David Lynch hair, told a reporter at Fenway that he’d spent the night drinking and the morning puking. Maybe not a role-model, but definitely refreshing. And he’ll apparently say more of the same on Letterman tonight.
I was IM’g with a former co-worker who moved to the southwest. We had season’s bleacher tickets, back when they could be had for under $10 a game. For awhile, he jumped aboard the Diamondbacks bandwagon but recent Sox successes sucked him back into the vortex of the righteous. His take on Papelbon: “Ya gotta love him. I’d like to hang out with him—-for about six beers. Then, I want to leave before the fight starts."
"And it will.”
The Sox parade on Tuesday was hilarious. At one point, Manny Ramirez appeared to be wearing not one, not two, but three hats. At the same time. And none appeared to fit.
That raises his chapeau quotient from the two he wears on field. Another friend, a Mariners fan no less, loves to watch Manny play left at Safeco Field. “I love it when he loses both hats on a play,” he writes.
We all have our hobbies.
Friday, October 26, 2007
No shortage of angst here
There’s been a lot of
jawing in the local media about how, since the Sox won it all in 2004, there’s a certain lack of say—-agita, neurosis, angst—in the general populace.
Short memories among those who just had to be talked off the ledge, Tobin Bridge, insert local-high-spot-here when Boston was down 3-1 to Cleveland. What was that—-a week ago?
For some, the fact that the Sox are up 2-0 in the World Series vs. an under-performing Rockies team stirs quite a bit of the “A” word. Folks who think the Rockies might just have us right where they want us.
Go figure.
This is not the heart of New England for nothing. Disaster lurks just beyond every victory and don’t you forget it.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Not a good sign for game one Sox v. Rox
This is NOT a good omen.
The morons at the local Fox affiliate actually had John Kerry on to wish the Red Sox luck. This is convincing evidence that the only broadcast group more inept and obnoxious than the Fox national sports on-air team is the local Fox morons. Including Maria and what's his name. They are unwatchable.
Stay tuned. I hear Fox has lined up Michael Dukakis to drive his tank to the mound for the first pitch.
P.S. Note to Senator Kerry: John--Why the long face?
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
This is the mystery man
The non-demonstrative guy behind home plate is Jeremy Kapstein, a senior advisor to the top Red Sox cheese. And apparently the prototype for Jerry McGuire.
You know he had to be a big deal given his box-seat real estate. But, seriously, could he look a little bit happy about it???
You know he had to be a big deal given his box-seat real estate. But, seriously, could he look a little bit happy about it???
Friday, October 19, 2007
Monday, October 15, 2007
What the....?
Maybe someone out there knows what this means.
In tonight's Fox broadcast of game 3 Sox-Indians, Tim McCarver and Joe Buck were nattering on about Victor Martinez' likes and dislikes. Apparently, Kansas City is his favorite road town and Curb Your Enthusiasm his favorite show, said Young Joe Buck.
To which McCarver rejoins: "There are four Venezuelans on this team and his favorite show stars Larry David."
What the heck is he trying to say here?
Is it code?
Anyone?
In tonight's Fox broadcast of game 3 Sox-Indians, Tim McCarver and Joe Buck were nattering on about Victor Martinez' likes and dislikes. Apparently, Kansas City is his favorite road town and Curb Your Enthusiasm his favorite show, said Young Joe Buck.
To which McCarver rejoins: "There are four Venezuelans on this team and his favorite show stars Larry David."
What the heck is he trying to say here?
Is it code?
Anyone?
Friday, October 12, 2007
Thoughts from Sox vs. Indians, game one
First: Who’s the dude behind home plate, with the dark jacket? A buddy in Seattle who watches most games has been obsessing about this all season. The guy shows no emotion. Typically wears a dark jacket, white shirt. No emotion. No chit chat. He’s over the right hand batter’s shoulder each at bat. My buddy think's he's an alien.
Second: What’s with Asdrubal Cabrera’s pearls? At first I thought they were a bit much, then I remembered: It’s a night game. (Ed. note: Here's the answer.)
Third: I take back nearly everything bad I said about Bobby Kielty, who started in right over new-fan-fave Jacoby Ellsbury (who has played center and left but not right) and fan goat J.D. (aka Nancy) Drew. Kielty tonight proved he can still hit Sabathia, which was why he was called.
Fourth: Note Manny’s errant dreadlock. Looks like it’s signaling a left turn. Actually not a bad idea, when you remember this is Manny we're talking about. It's not a given he'd take a left at first.
Fifth: It’s the seventh inning, Sox are up 10-2. One is tempted to chalk this one up as a "W." Until Paul calls from the road en route to the Pats game in Texas and reminds: “Just remember. Gagne’s sitting in the pen, waiting. Tick, tick, tick.”
Check. Check. No premature celebrations.
Question for you: When is it appropriate to say a team has broken a game open? Sportscasters in recent memory have said the Sox have broken one open when they get a five run lead. Umm, I don't know about you, but seems to me plenty of teams have resurged against bigger leads than that.
Case in point, that Friday night Yanks-Sox game in September. On second thought, forget about it. I'm still trying to.
Second: What’s with Asdrubal Cabrera’s pearls? At first I thought they were a bit much, then I remembered: It’s a night game. (Ed. note: Here's the answer.)
Third: I take back nearly everything bad I said about Bobby Kielty, who started in right over new-fan-fave Jacoby Ellsbury (who has played center and left but not right) and fan goat J.D. (aka Nancy) Drew. Kielty tonight proved he can still hit Sabathia, which was why he was called.
Fourth: Note Manny’s errant dreadlock. Looks like it’s signaling a left turn. Actually not a bad idea, when you remember this is Manny we're talking about. It's not a given he'd take a left at first.
Fifth: It’s the seventh inning, Sox are up 10-2. One is tempted to chalk this one up as a "W." Until Paul calls from the road en route to the Pats game in Texas and reminds: “Just remember. Gagne’s sitting in the pen, waiting. Tick, tick, tick.”
Check. Check. No premature celebrations.
Question for you: When is it appropriate to say a team has broken a game open? Sportscasters in recent memory have said the Sox have broken one open when they get a five run lead. Umm, I don't know about you, but seems to me plenty of teams have resurged against bigger leads than that.
Case in point, that Friday night Yanks-Sox game in September. On second thought, forget about it. I'm still trying to.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Wicked Old 'Dos
Watching my twin obsessions this week—-the Red Sox clinching the AL East and PBS’s “The War” (Feel free to insert Boston/Cambridge axis jokes here) it struck me that a lot of people’s hairdos are frozen in time.
Exhibit A: Dennis Eckersley, former Oakland As relief ace and Sox player-turned-commentator. Theguy's a great analyst, with the perfect mix of expertise and fan-like wonder. Exhibit B: The War’s Ken Burns. Both are 40-something guys with 25-year- old mops.
To paraphrase Peyton Manning: “They’ve been working those ‘dos since the fifth grade.”
Pot/kettle disclaimer, the same could be said for me.
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