Dirty Jobs: WEEI Listener

Pink Hat Hell is happy to welcome its second guest blogger, Buzz Byrne, into our happily dysfunctional home. Buzz and Chico are two great writers, which makes me wonder what the hell they're doing writing here but I'm not so dumb as to look a horse's mouth in its gift box. -Tiki



Between the years 1996 and 2000 I had a job I hated and my main interests were the local sports teams and drinking in the late afternoon. If I had erection problems or was losing my hair I would have been the perfect target listener for WEEI AM850, at least according to the ads that were played throughout the day. Despite my full, luxurious and present hair and boners I was a listener anyway.

Thinking back to this era in Boston sports, say ’96-97, let’s remember that the Red Sox were waving goodbye to ace Roger Clemens and replacing him with Steve Avery. Bill Parcells was building a Super Bowl contender that would never finish the job and the Celtics had Michael Leon Carr straightening up the dump for the soon-to-be colossal failure that was the Rick Pitino era.

It was a miserable time to be a fan of the local teams. I don’t think I was very happy in general then either.

So some changes were made by me, your buddy Buzz. One happened to be to listen less and less to WEEI. September 11 and the run up to the Iraq Invasion made that a bit easier. If the show hosts had struck me as narrow-minded, self-involved and particularly venomous to athletes and fans alike- groups they were commenting on and commenting for and that they theoretically were knowledgeable of, why would I stick around for their take on matters of great import? They made it easy to lose me as a listener and fairly soon I became more involved in getting opinions and facts and theories and entertainment from the internet. By the time Aaron Boone crushed another season of hopes for Red Sox fans, turning to WEEI was the furthest thing from my mind. I didn’t want to commiserate with these hosts who would predictably pull the old axes from their closets and use my misery to grind away. Nor a few months later when Adam Automatic booted one through the goal posts to secure New England’s place at the table for a solid “Dynasty” discussion could I imagine turning to celebrate with these folk. Who wants condescending “I Told You Sos” when you’re ecstatic? Not a sports fan.

I guess that was when the habit was easiest break, when I realized they didn’t particularly care for sports anymore.

Something unusual happens to people who perform for audiences or engage crowds. Often times when they encounter a small or even large feel of success or acceptance and they come to believe that they are greater than the group- that they as the entertainer cannot possibly be replaced by something as delicately nuanced as a farting monkey. Success breeds a repetitive cycle of attention that comes in both positive and negative fashions- overblown admiration as well as critical examination. Too often the positive is seen as gospel while the criticism is viewed as jealousy. And because radio hosts have control oven subject matter, volume and callers, filtering and subjectivity cannot help but become a part of the daily routine. And because they are part of the media, albeit the infotainment section, they cannot help but become part of the story. They cannot help but feel equal to the entertainers they opine upon. And when this shift happens irreverence turns to condescension, spin takes the place of analysis, the central subject is supplanted by the cult of personality and wit, jest, eternal wisdom and mental acuity flail about as flaccid self-important smarm.

But where does that leave us today? I thought what Tiki has been doing here at Pink Hat Hell was pretty cool. I also worked as a critic for awhile so I sent Tiki a proposal that I take another listen to WEEI. Especially as they are making some big waves in the local sports media scene with a re-launch of their barely-breathing web site. In press releases, WEEI management had promised the web arm of their network will become a continuation of their quality on-air programming.

Right there I was highly skeptical. Seemed like a fallacy built on an eroding sand bed of spin. But who was I to judge; I don’t listen anymore.

My proposal was to listen to a full day of WEEI’s quality programming from sun up to sun down. I would listen to every minute of Dennis and Callahan from 6 AM to 10 AM, then every minute of The Dale and Holley Show from 10 AM to 2 PM and then every minute of The Big Show with Glenn Ordway from 2 PM to 6 PM. There was no way I could bring myself to include Planet Mikey in this. I like a challenge but one man can only be expected to take so many shots to the nads.

When I was on my way back from the gym at 5:58 AM today, I thought I would switch off the satellite radio and see if John Dennis and Gerry Callahan were back from vacation. Jon Meterparel is doing the first sports flash of the morning, wrapping up the third week of preseason NFL games, the first series win of the Red Sox versus the Blue Jays in Toronto and the closing ceremonies of the Olympics. This will be a good test, I think. Lots of material, lots of local and national and worldwide sports to dive right into. And it seems like a day for the regular hosts so I decide I will listen all day, today, August 25, 2008. Here’s how it went.

6:01 AM-

Sports flash is wrapped and the commercials start. Mortgage brokers, office supplies, car dealerships. All seem to be the official (fill-in the blank) of the New England Patriots. Hmm.

6:05 AM-

Still in commercials.

6:10 AM-

Show bumpers start, finally. Deep-voiced annoying announcer informs me it’s a “Patriots Monday!” This is the same guy who does the announce for all the shows and has since I was listening years ago. Between his stilted reads and Blur’s “Song #2” there are self congratulatory clips of Tom Brady saying, “You guys are the best at what you do.” And Curt Schilling complimenting Meterparel.

6:12 AM-

John Dennis and Gerry Callahan take to the mics. And commence complaining about the shortness of their vacations.

6:13 AM-

I turn off the radio. I accept failure. They have beaten me. I can’t do it. No way am I listening to this all morning.

6:18 AM-

I give it another shot. They are bickering about the Pats three preseason losses. Gerry says it’s no big deal. Actually he shouts, “THESE GAMES DON’T COUNT!” John and Jon are skeptical. Dennis actually concedes that maybe this is all silly pabulum like “When Pedro showed up for Spring Training late because of his father’s birthday and we would spend a day and half complaining about it but later in the season we would ask why were we so concerned?” Yeah, it’s just like that. Guy left four years and they’re still obsessed with him and casting him as a villain. This sucks the salt off my nuts. Radio off. Plus, I’m home. Now this is the kind of moment that should frighten Entercom shareholders- I decide to turn the radio back on but I realize a problem- I don’t have a radio in my house. I have a satellite hook up through my computer. I have mp3 players and one has an FM radio but I don’t have any regular setup to listen to AM radio. I check to see if they stream. They do but you have to register as a “Clubhouse Member!” and somethings I will just not do to get the story. Finally, I find an old walkman that works right next to a replacement coil cord for a phone and pile of stamps that you need to lick to affix.

6:36 AM-

Radio back on. I convince myself that I’m not blowing my assignment, that I actually might be consuming this media like most do, at irregular intervals. I suddenly feel better about myself. Of course it helps that the only thing on the radio at this moment is commercial after commercial after commercial.

6:42 AM-

The featured interview of Patriots Monday starts as D&C welcome Patriot quarterback Tom Brady. It wasn’t exactly scintillating material. Brady manages these two like they were The Buffalo Bills secondary. Its easy picking and they get nothing- NOTHING of substance from him. Maybe it does the fans good to hear last year’s MVP reassert his commitment to football but it seems like a stupid dance. Yeah, Coach is gonna yell at us today…Yeah, I never thought Favre was retiring…Yeah, I mean what? I got a car for sale? A truck? Do I need somebody to look into this? Brady also said he would be ready for the season opener.

Did anyone really expect him to say differently? It isn’t that Brady can’t be interesting; it’s just that he knows the dance steps by rote. And these two, D&C, are the worst regular show interviewers on the whole station.

7:10-7:31 AM-

Did you think they would forget about the Olympics? And when you talk of the Olympics how could you not talk about how The Gasol guys on Team Spain looked mangy like those scumbag delegates in Denver, with stuff in their beards…AND THE COMMIES. Gerry seems almost a bit more bilious towards the ChiCom Symps- Bob Costas and NBC.

Back to Team Spain for a minute- in a stunning moment of the eternal lack of self-awareness, the cornerstone of WEEI broadcasting, Gerry Callahan wonders at the stupidity of the WHOLE BASKETBALL team getting talked into making the racially insensitive gesture of slanty eyes in a Spanish newspaper. “Didn’t they have someone to stop them?”

Maybe they should go to sensitivity training. Did that help you and your partner, Ger, when you compared black kids trying to get a better start in life to an escaped gorilla? What about the next two times you had to go? Or was it three times after that?

Gerry went on to observe that trampoline shouldn’t be an Olympic sport like swimming is. They should award a different tiered medal for the frilly sports. At least this clears up any doubt that D&C have someone writing material for them. This bland, overworked premise had the punch line of Gerry stating, “Who knows, I could be the best trampoliner in the world!”

These guys are not good broadcasters. Gerry isn’t a spectacular writer; at least he hasn’t been in over a decade. They are both poor analysts, too wrapped up in some larger argument, some larger yowl against their imagined oppressors, to offer anything but couched, predicated, leading questions and observations that do nothing but score useless style points on never ending debates.

The politics aren’t the issue. Any dummy can grab a platform and scream about COMMIES. Who cares. The issue is really that the whole thing is boringly predictable. The end result of this is zero entertainment. So they are miserable performers as well. What they are really good at, it appears, is keeping their jobs. You guys have a top rated radio show on the only viable sports station in a region that is experiencing an unprecedented time of local sports wealth. I’m sure it all has to do with your stunning brand of no-holds barred, rough and tumble, personality driven guy talk and not Bill Belichick, Tom Brady, Adam Vinatieri, Tedy Bruschi, Manny Ramirez, Perdo Martinez, Jason Varitek, David Ortiz, Mike Timlin, Tim Wakefield, Josh Beckett, Paul Pierce, Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen and a fan base that has placed sports as the highest form of local entertainment. Those guys have nothing to do with sports talk trouncing a decidedly local and dying media platform.

I tune back in for Headlines! Long enough to hear that Madonna looks like a heroin skank. Say, did she do something to pique their interests? Of course and this is all, again, so pathetically predictable.

At the nine o’clock hour they replay the Tom Brady interview again.

9:52 AM-

Buzzer Beaters-

Jon Meterparel talks about Jason Kidd is giving away his gold medal to the wife of casino owner Steve Winn.

Gerry- “I just want review the Jimmyfund telethon…”Backslapping and self-aggrandizement.

John- “I am calling out my golfing friends to donate to the Jimmyfund. Dino has his own golf tournament!” This mutt just referred to himself in the third person. I wish I was listening to an autopsy.

9:57 AM-

Crossover to Dale and Holley involves more backslapping. Dale informs us that Michael Felger, newly hired away from his writing gig at the Herald and his afternoon show on AM890 to write for the new WEEI web site and fill in on air when needed will be in for Michael Holley.

10:16 AM-

After nearly seventeen minutes of commercials with one sports flash, Dale Arnold and Michael Felger take to the air. Their talk is all about the big Red Sox win the night before.

10:23 AM

Dale Arnold says “ass” on the radio. Is this guy fired up or what??

10:29 AM

It's Manny Ramirez time. Dale tells us it was almost criminal what this guy did on this team this year. We hardly know all the stories. Really? Does Dale tell us any of these extra stories? Nope. We just gotta take his word for it. Good to see Dale’s new part time gig in the Red Sox broadcast booth is paying off with unsubstantiated rumors passed on to the listeners during his radio show.

10:40-10:58 AM

My guess is that before this segment someone in management sent Felger and Dale a little note saying, “Hey, you two numb nuts want to make with a bit of the Patriot talk on Patriot Monday! And maybe mention our new web site, you know, the one that we hired Michael for?” In these 18 minutes Felger’s latest post on WEEI.com four times during their discussion of the Pats and their winless preseason. Felger says there are real questions about this team. Okay. Dale says things will get better when #12 suits up. Okay. These don’t seem to be diametrically opposed ideas so why are these grown men shouting at each other? If this were an actual discussion it might be “interesting,” as opposed to what it is- “barely tolerable.”

11:10 AM

Back with Rodney Harrison and Tedy Bruschi in studio. Harrison can be a compelling interview, he is definitely an athlete that embraces the use of motivation from all comers. Dale steps into this accidentally when approaching the subject of the winless preseason. “Should we be concerned?” Dale asks.

“We who?” Rodney curtly replies.

“We-” I actually think Dale didn’t know which we he was talking about, “The fans.”

Rodney snickers, knowing he got him and then jumps into the athlete answer.

11:28 AM

The interview is basically over. Dale throws one last question to Rodney, asking if he’ll have any special words with David Tyree. I’m sure you know who Tyree is and why Rodney would have a word or two with him. The moment of deadly silence is the first compelling moment of the morning. Felger jumps in and asks if Rodney was going to write the intro to Tyree’s book. Rodney starts barking at him not to believe everything he reads. It dispels the tension. I bet Dale had to stop himself from apologizing to the audience for accidentally entertaining us.

11:37 AM

They take the first phone caller. He wants to talk Pats. He wonders at the team taking a QB with the third round pick in the last draft as opposed to shoring up the O-line or even the secondary. Not a bad question. Then the guy goes on to complain that he doesn’t like seeing the players “yukking it up on the sidelines while getting beat” like they were during the last preseason game.

Oy vey. Keep this nonsense to yourself callers. You sound like boobs.

11:57 AM

MATT CASSELL, KELLY HOLCOMB

You’re insane!

YOU’RE INSANE!!

12:13 PM

More Backup QB talk. Dale makes a snide remark about Felger’s former radio employer. I see him high-fiving himself after this and promising to reward his lightning wit with a stop at DQ on the ride home. Don’t tell Susan and the kids!

12:43 PM

Felger defends his baseball assertions. I question many poor, poor decisions in my life that have led me to actually making note of this.

1:32 PM

Felger is clearly developing his next article/post for the web site. The phrase, “Flipping a switch” is sure to be featured prominently.

1:56 PM

Dale signs off telling us to stay tuned as Pete Sheppard and the boys will be along on The Big Show- the boys being Fred Smerlas and Steve DeOssie. When my wife was in labor for our second child one contraction hit her particularly hard. She sat up in bed and said she had to go. “To the bathroom?” I asked. “No. It hurts too much. I gotta go, leave, GET OUT OF HERE NOW!”

I finally know what that moment of panic was all about as I just had it.

2:12 PM

After four minutes on the air Fred Smerlas makes a “joke” about Pete in a thong. As this is the same joke Fred made eight years ago, I should feel young again. Instead I feel sad. What place in any broadcast universe does this pass as humor the first time? It lacks any element of originality or surprise…EIGHT YEARS AGO. It hasn’t changed with age. But what was I expecting? Did I think multiple championships would change anything with these people? I mean, I know it changed a lot of my feelings and attitudes towards sports and the local teams. It was truly naïve to believe any of that would translate for these “analysts.”

2:32 PM-

Homo-Erotic tomfoolery.

2:34 and 25 seconds PM-

Red Sox talk.

2:35 PM Exactly

Commercial break.

2:48 PM-

They get to their first caller. “I want to talk about the psychology of the Patriot fans.” I want to throw myself into a wood chipper. The hosts have led the way to a startling level of self-involvement and sadly a portion of the fan base has followed suit like dim lemmings. Why talk about the team when you can talk about the people watching the team!

3:29 PM-

Pete blows up a caller.

3:32 PM-

Fred comes within an inch of declaring this year’s Patriot secondary an improvement over last years’. Why would he do such a thing? I don’t really know but more importantly, I don’t really care. Even the biggest home town fan can see through this as nonsense.

3:43 PM-

A quickly turned around recorded bit about Felger being a douche bag with clips from today. What it lacks in creativity in never comes close to making up for with wit.

3:52 PM-

A non-Pat fan caller asks why New England fans are nuts, like callers who wanted Francona fired after the 2007 World Series…THAT HE WON. Pete says that is just one fan in 3,000. Fred agrees and points to the number of anti-Belichick media there are which is a solid point….for a totally different argument.

4:14 PM-

Back from seventeen minutes of commercials and a sports flash. I’ve survived two hours of this show. I’ll never see these two hours again. I’m two hours closer to death but I’m still drawing breath. I can’t tell you how happy this makes my previous WEEI-free years seem.

4:35 PM-

Actual NFL line talk on nose guard play and how he makes his reads off the center guard and fullback. This is interesting and a place where Fred and Steve’s experience could be entertaining. Of course it lasts all of 23 seconds. The notion that Fred and Steve aren’t allowed to break out of the guy talk shtick to relay pro-level insight is nonsense. At this point it is clear they either can’t remember or don’t care to.

4:54 PM-

Some caller tries breaking Pete’s balls over tennis. Steve later says he knows the guy and he was goofing around. It is ponderous and alienating. I am convinced you can do anything in radio, it is an elastic medium but without the fundamentals of context nothing will make sense. How many broadcast hours has this crew of three logged and they still refuse to master the concept that just because it is funny to one other person in the room does not mean it translates to a full third of the listening audience?

And then Fred jokes about beating kids.

5:11 PM

Intro…James Brown howl…same announcer guy…same tired jokes…and no Coach Belichick yet.

5:26 PM

Pete throws it to break with all the dexterity of a moist sock.

5:31 PM

Pete says the coach is running late. I am getting the shakes.

5:36 PM

Belichick checks in and I immediately feel like someone competent is there, just in case a fire breaks out or someone plays too rough with a choking hazard. At least an adult is present.

5:55 PM

I turn off the radio.

So after all that, what does it mean? Can they continue their high level of on air content to the digital world?

One thing that is certain when it comes to radio and the management that runs the station groups- they are cheap and not usually very forward thinking. The move by WEEI to further solidify its place in the sports media distribution marketplace of New England by re-launching its website with a full staff and some local journalist personalities is half a decade too late. So while they may seem flashy- and they are putting on quite the self-congratulatory show hiring Michael Felger, Rob Bradford and the disgraced Ron Borges, they are going to fail with their aim to be THE sports information distribution center of New England. The problem is they don’t do “journalism,” they yell at callers and make snide comments that someone, somewhere seems to be fooled into thinking is humor. They feast on the star athletes that don’t play with them. Facts, the theoretical cornerstone of journalism, aren’t a part of the WEEI vocabulary. They happily sneer at the idea of fact-based radio. Jason Wolfe has said it just doesn’t work. But apparently he thinks Jon Meterparel does.

There is no return for the money pit that is the new website. It cannot generate enough new revenue to survive. I would fully expect this whole thing to end with less original content and more fill-in spots for Felger and Borges on air. They don’t have the drive to push through the undiscovered country of the new media. They are lazy and they are dinosaurs. So when the management and talent chuckle at the downward spiral of the Globe and pick at the corpse of the Herald, they should instead be shaking in their boots. If the digital age can wipe out the recording industry and newspapers what chance does commercial radio stand? The film industry is fighting hard but that is a multi-billion dollar business. They have the money to fight for their market share of the entertainment dollar.

Consider the issue this way- the last major move this brand made was a fake radio stunt hiring Mike Adams. That’s the forward thinking leadership they have. Fake radio stunts? They may as well have hired a phalanx of diarrhea sufferers to roam the streets of the Boston area, taking smelly, messy dumps on all the cars that have Red Sox and Patriots bumper stickers on them. That’s basically the same thing as hiring Mike Adams and doing it with a fake I’m-locking-myself-in-the-studio stunt. Can you imagine anything more insulting to the sports fan’s intelligence? Maybe it would be this proclamation that Ron Borges is on board and ready to kick butt. Is he? He certainly is rested after being disgraced by a plagiarizing scandal. And whose butt is he going to kick? Could it be the head coach of the local football team? The guy who won three championships here? Yeah, he didn’t deliver the perfect season and Ron is filled with bile so Belichick needs a butt kicking.

What nonsense.

These people hate the people they cover. The hate the people who call into their shows. The hate the people who listen. They hate you. Now, hate can get you places in this world but navigating the rocking shoals of an industry in turmoil is not the place for the shiftless masses leading the way in the New Balance building. They are not long for the new shift in media and their fall will be as inglorious as a fading superstar shooting his way out of town and getting kicked in the ass by everyone who grew to loathe him.

Sox Appeal Season 2 Ep. 4: It Is What It Is and What It Is Is Dull

If someone had asked me what they'd be least likely to hear me say, the sentence "I miss last season's Sox Appeal" would have definitely been on the list but after this week's episode, I'm yearning for the days of Bollywood at the Ballpark and Robby Roadsteamer.

Sox Appeal has always been an awful reality show for a number of reasons but there are dozens of awful reality shows that are enjoyable and even addictive. There's The Real Housewives of Wherever, The Hills and even The Two Coreys. In fact, NESN might want to go the Coreys route and develop a show around WEEI's Mike Adams. It could be an Intervention/Hell's Radio Station hybrid.






Sadly, Sox Appeal no long has that little something that makes an awful show watchable. It's become almost paralyzingly dull and if the rest of this season continues like this, the kindest thing would be to put the show out of its misery.

And ours, too.

I'd like to thank Keurig, the Official Coffee Provider of Pink Hat Hell, for the strength to get through two viewings of this episode.

Tonight's masochist is 27 year-old Devon Dopfel, a personal trainer from Jamaica Plain.



Devon's father, Alan Dopfel, pitched for three seasons in the California Angels' farm system and was a teammate of Jerry Remy, which explains why he left baseball after three seasons. She's looking for someone who's physically active and a good communicator. I know I've mentioned this before but I always feel compelled to say "no shit" when these people describe who they're looking for. I mean, what the hell are they going to say? "I'm looking for someone who loves cats and their hair, enjoys video games, likes cheap Mexican food, thinks an ideal Sunday is watching 14 hours of Law & Order: SVU, thinks 'Work Out' is the name of a TV show and not a desired activity and can handle ferocious mood swings at the drop of a hat." That's pretty unlikely.

Although strangely familiar...

Devon's first date is with Joe Gagnepain, a 28 year-old film location manager and martial arts instructor. Gagnepain? Seriously? Oh man, can you imagine the hell this guy went through when the Eric Gagne trade turned out to be a huge bust?

After explaining the basics of Jujitsu to Devon, Eri..Joe tells her about the time he used his martial arts skills to take down a thief who had just robbed someone on a movie set. Devon is absolutely smitten.

"You're a superhero!"

"I'm just a regular guy, trying to do his part."

They're kind of cute. Devon asks him who he would be if he could be any superhero and Joe picks Captain America. I wonder if Joe realizes that Captain America died after being shot multiple times by a sniper? I don't think Devon realizes it as she's totally into the superhero thing and makes Joe get up in front of the crowd and show her his best superhero pose. He puts his fists on his hips and flexes. Uh, Joe? She said superhero, not Hulk Hogan.

Across the roof, tonight's other two dates are making very awkward small talk.

Bern Prince is a personal trainer AND a self-described poet.




And Chad Sinclair is a phys ed teacher from Natick.




I looked everywhere for an example of Bern's poetry but sadly, I came up empty. He does show off his sensitive side by asking Chad what they should do if it turns out Devon looks like Quasimodo.

Charming.

Back at the table, Devon has moved on from the Captain America poses and is now making Joe do dips on the stairs. The crowd counts off 26 before Devon lets him sit back down. Now she's even more impressed and asks him what he does for fun.

"I just started taking guitar lessons."

Oh Sweet Jesus, no. I'm having flashbacks. If he says his favorite song is "Wonderwall", I'm going to Fenway and lighting the roof deck on fire. Sorry, Dad.

Thankfully, they move onto their mutual love of poker and the date comes to an end with Dreamboat Ellsbury grounding out to first. Captain America heads back to the Dater Dugout with a big smile on his face. Can't blame him. It was one of the smoothest dates the show has ever had.

Bern is up next. He says that being a Cancer makes him high-strung and moody. What he left out is that is also makes him a complete f'ing lush. He's a little chatty and a little slurry. They talk about their mutual occupation in the fitness industry but when he tells her that he's into poetry, she asks for a little oration.

And then begins one of the oddest moments in Sox Appeal history.

Bern describes a freestyle poem he wrote about...bathrooms.

"A bathroom has no windows, no clocks usually, it's a place where all your secrets are kept. When you want to clean yourself off, you go to the bathroom. You can be naked in the bathroom. You can be very, very secure in your bathroom. Whatever you gotta do. That's where you're you."

Please allow me to make a really bad pun.

I think Bern's chances just went down the drain.

We never get to see Devon's reaction to Bern's poem. After all, this is Sox Appeal. Why would we want to include something interesting? Instead, she sends Bern to the stairs to do his dips. He beats Joe by about fifteen and as payback, he makes Devon sing.

Now here's the weird thing: throughout this entire scene, there's this random blonde woman behind Bern who's listening intently to their conversation and laughing along like she's the one on the date. Then again, at least someone's laughing.

The conversation moves from singing to Roger Clemens and Bern can't figure out why Roger would use Viagra while, um, on the mound. If that wasn't awkward enough, he tells Devon that he's completely down with Viagra and has no problem using it.

Where's Captain America when we really need him?

And in case you didn't notice from his picture, Bern is black. That's nice, NESN. You finally decide to let a black man in the pearly gates and you pick this goofball.

Bern's rambling on about what he's hoping to find in a woman and asks Devon if she's going to break his heart tonight. I feel so bad for this girl. She seems like a cool broad and she's had to deal with a whole lotta drunken babble for the past two innings. Two innings that mercifully come to an end when the Dreamboat grounds out again. Hey Jacoby! A word of advice, young Jedi. The price of your autograph should never be higher than your batting average.

Chad heads down for our last date of the evening. And he brought his own cheering section. A few people in the crowd hold up "Pick Chad" signs. Cute.

OH.

JESUS.

TAPDANCING.

CHRIST.

We were just subjected to a picture of a shirtless Jerry Remy.

You're trying to break me, aren't you NESN? You miserable, heartless bastards are trying to break me. Well, that's not going to happen. The love from our friends at Universal Hub will sustain me.

While Chad and Devon are getting to know each other, Joe is back in the Dater Dugout, telling Bern how he teaches women how to defend themselves by gouging out a man's eyes or his groin. Bern looks horrified. And then makes several references to Chad getting "the shaft". Groan.

While Chad may or may not get the shaft, he definitely got the short end of the stick as we barely saw any of his date. Too bad, he seemed like a nice guy. Dreamboat ground out YET AGAIN! He's 0-3 on tonight's episode. He might be the only guy in the ballpark who performed worse than Bern.


Speaking of our drunk, this week's Bertucci's On a Roll Moment (Why must every place I like sponsor this nightmare? I'd boycott them if they didn't have those rolls. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.) is of Bern saying his favorite phrase, "it is what it is" about a hundred times. I have a feeling he'll be saying that a lot when he finds out he's going home to his bathroom by himself tonight.

Devon does a quick survey of the Satellite of Love but I think we know who she's flying home with. It's Captain America, aka Joe. They head off to The Bleacher Bar for their date and hopefully someone will give Bern a ride home.

I have a theory as to why the Patriots have sucked this pre-season.




I'm telling you, this show just drags everything associated with it down a vortex of doom.

Devon and Joe's date went well. So much so that they've already been on a second one. Larry wants to know if they've gotten hot and heavy yet. See what I mean?

So, it looks like Devon and Joe hit it off. Good for them. They're a likable couple. Maybe that's what this season is missing. We haven't had anyone to completely loathe yet.

But there's always next week.

Karen Varitek's Flickr

Sox Appeal Season 2 Ep. 3: Guitar Zero

I think I've finally figured it out. I think I know why we're being subjected to this trainwreck.

We're being punished.

This is the price we have to pay for two World Series championships.

That has to be it, right? There's no way that there are people who tune into Sox Appeal because they actually like it. No way. Was the Boston vs New York Poker Challenge must see TV? Schindler's List is funner than NESN Comedy All-Stars. Does anyone TiVo The Remys? There has to be a reason why NESN keeps pumping out this garbage and I'm thinking it's all about those two trophies. You know, the only things that have been passed around more than Jason Varitek's room number.

Despite all of the improvements NESN was crowing about, the show has gone from sucks to blows. With very few exceptions, the contestants and dating "heroes" have been boring. I have to give NESN credit, though. They pulled off something pretty rare. They've made the half-hour format seem ten times longer than last season's hour-long. That takes skill.

Or something.

This is Alex Stathos.



He's a property manager for those ritzy West End Apartments and the pretension seems to have worn off on him. He describes himself as "charming", "good looking", and "a catch", and has no problem meeting women. "On any given day, I probably have ten to fifteen girls in my phone that I could call." Ten to fifteen girls in his phone? Are we supposed to be impressed? I have ten to fifteen men in my phone that I could call on any given day but that doesn't mean I'm getting laid. Especially by the ones that answer, "Thank you for calling CVS" and "Peabody Police Department, your call is being recorded."

This guy just oozes smarm. He's cocky and arrogant and thinks he's God's gift to women, when in reality, he looks an awful lot like Fred Savage. With an ego this big based on, well, pretty much nothing, you'd think he was the long lost 4th Andelman brother.




Alex's first date is Sarah Morin, a 24 yr-old homeschool tutor who's opening her own dog walking business.

You can tell right away that Alex isn't into Sarah. He barely looks at her after she sits at the table and focuses on the game instead. When the Rays hit a home run that bounced off the top of the Green Monster, Sarah asks if it was a home run. Alex looks like someone just told him he wasn't pretty. He asks her what she's into and she reveals her deep affection for cartoon robots.


Yeah, I didn't get it either. Although I was hoping Alex would tell her to "bite my shiny metal ass" but that would have required a sense of humor and he's much more interested in his hair. Instead, he makes her get up and do the robot dance and it's every bit as awkward and awful as you'd imagine.

Alex tells Sarah that he's started taking guitar lessons because chicks dig guitar players. She tries to stifle her eye roll but with little success. You know it's a bad sign when people start talking about the weather and that's exactly what they do.

As the conversation between Alex and Sarah goes on life support, we get our first glimpse into the Dater Dugout and meet the other two contestants...

Amanda Degon:



and Shannon Smith:




Amanda is a legal assistant, Shannon is a cancer researcher and they're both dressed way, way too slutty for Fenway. If the date between Alex and Sarah wasn't already a disaster, her choice of a polo shirt over their choice of, well, not much of anything, would have totally sealed the deal.

Back at the table, they've resorted to asking each other the questions on the Sox Appeal cards. Sarah asks him if there's anything that women don't find attractive about him and he's quick to answer no. So here's my question: if he's that good looking and that much of a catch, why is he on eHarmony For Dummies?

The second inning comes to a merciful close and Sarah practically sprints back to the Dater Dugout. Amanda heads down and Alex's demeanor changes instantly. If this show had thought bubbles, the one over his head would say "BOOBIES!!!11!!" He's hoping she's a rock 'n roller because she looks a little punky. When she tells him she's a legal secretary, you can actually hear his erection deflate. She's also trying to become a cop and he asks her if she wants to be a small town cop or an "L.A. riot cop". An L.A. riot cop?? A reference that dated belongs in a Simmons colums.

Speaking of dated, Amanda tells Alex how much she hates dancing and how the only thing she can do is the Cabbage Patch so naturally, he makes her get up in front of everyone and dance. Waldorf and Statler in the broadcast booth try to figure out what Spice Girl she reminds them of. In Remy's case, I'm thinking Tobacco Spice.

For some reason, Alex is really excited about these guitar lessons. He can play two songs: "Wonderwall" and "Rockin' In the Free World". You know, songs to woo a lady. When Amanda says that she's a pet person, Alex reveals that he does not, in fact, brake for animals. He hates dogs and will never have one because he doesn't want them to slobber all over his nice furniture and shed all over his nice clothes. I think Alex is just jealous that he can't lay in the sun all day and groom himself with his tongue.

The dog situation is a big turnoff for Amanda and she's happy when the 4th inning is over and trades places with Shannon in the Dater Dugout. One of Shannon's dislikes is "big egos". Oh boy.

Things start off well as Alex is impressed by Shannon's Sox knowledge. She knows her stuff, even referring to JD Drew as "Nancy". Speaking of JD Drew, if you haven't seen it already, head over to Deadspin and check out the horrifying slash fiction that Gerry Calla...someone wrote about the Drew brothers. Anyway, Alex asks Shannon what she does for a living and she starts telling him about all the important research she's working on to help find a cure for breast cancer. And because it's not about him, he couldn't be less interested. He did perk up when she got to the part about testing on live animals but that was it. Asshole. Why don't you tell her about your guitar lessons? I'm sure she'll be thrilled.

He does.

She's not.

But for some strange reason, she seems to like him. When the date is over, she says she'll be disappointed if he doesn't pick her. Who knew Oasis had that kind of power?

As the three women wait in the Dater Dugout, Alex does a quick Satellite of Love survey and makes his decision. Who's the lucky girl who gets to have dinner the self-proclaimed biggest catch in town?

It's Shannon. He says he knew she'd be the one the moment he laid eyes on her. But he's not shallow. The two head over to Game On for dinner where hopefully, they won't have a guitar.

It's week three and I still can't believe Larry Izzo is doing this.

Both Alex and Shannon are there but it doesn't seem like the date was a big success. She won't commit to a second date, despite Larry's prodding. Looks like the biggest catch in Boston got thrown back into the water.

And hopefully took that f'ing guitar with him.

When Billy Met Gerry

While the following story is satire, there's nothing funny about kids battling cancer. Please support the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute and the Jimmy Fund by making a donation to the WEEI-NESN Jimmy Fund Radio-Thon. Call 1-877-738-1234 or visit WEEI.com to donate. These kids and their families deserve all the praise, help and support we can give them.

Smarmy, bigoted, small-pricked morning radio hosts? Not so much.



----

It's a beautiful late summer day and little Billy Sullivan is in his hospital room, watching Finding Nemo. The room is decorated from floor to ceiling in Red Sox memorabilia and Billy is wearing his favorite Green Monster pajamas. An authentic Sox hat covers his bald head. A nurse knocks gently on the door and walks in the room, accompanied by a man Billy doesn't recognize.

"Billy, there's someone special here to see you. This is Gerry. He's on the radio every day, talking about the Red Sox! I know how much you love the team so I thought you'd enjoy spending some time with him, talking baseball. I'll check back on the two of you in a little bit."

Gerry sits down in the chair next to Billy's bed and puts his Crocs on the rail.

"How you feeling today, Bobby?"

"Billy."

"Your name's not Bobby?"

"No."

"Are you sure about that? I thought it was Bobby."

"It's Billy."

"OK, whatever, have it your way. So, what are you watching?"

"Finding Nemo. It's my favorite movie."

Gerry grabs the remote from the bedside table and shuts off the TV.

"Hey! Why'd you do that, mister?"

"What the hell is the matter with you, watching crap like that?! Don't you know that Dory is a homo?"

"What's a homo?"

"A sissy. A fairy. A rug muncher. A Democrat."

"I thought she was a fish?"

"That's what they want you to think. Anyway, so you like baseball?"

"I love baseball! Have you met any of the Red Sox??"

"Oh yeah. I've met all of them. Mike Timlin? Terrific guy. Loves to hunt. Puts a few slugs in Bambi and throws him in the back of the truck. Jason Varitek? Great guy. Always talking about his wife and kids. Totally devoted to them. Curt Schilling? A finer man you'll never meet. Everything about him just oozes integrity and dedication and sacrifice. There's no better teammate in the history of baseball than Curt. No exaggeration. Just ask him. If I had another son, I'd name him Curt. Youk, Pedroia, Drew, Wake, Clay, Lester, Paps...just a great buncha guys."

"What about Coco?"

"No thanks. I don't like those sissy drinks. I'm a coffee guy. The stronger the better."

"No, I meant...never mind. What about Dice-K?"

"I'm not sold on him yet. There's something about him that I just don't trust. You never know when he'll sneak up on you. Who's your favorite player?"

Billy reaches under his blanket and pulls out his Red Sox home jersey. He puts it on excitedly.

"Oh man, my mom and dad bought me this jersey when I first got sick. I wear it every time I get treatment. It's my lucky jersey."

"That's terrific, Bobby. Let me see the back."

Billy turns around to show Gerry the number of his favorite player.

24.

"Ah, a boy after my own heart. Good ol' Dewey."

"Who's Dewey? This is my Manny jersey!"

A foreboding silence fills the room. The blood rises to Gerry's face, turning him an uncomfortable shade of maroon.

"Manny...Ramirez?"

"Yeah! I love him! Did you see that game where he caught the ball and gave the guy in the stands a high five? That was awesome."

"Let me tell you something, Bobby. There's nothing awesome about Manny Ramirez. Nothing. He's a filthy, rotten, disgusting piece of dog shit and a disgrace to the Red Sox uniform and the sport of baseball. He's lazy and stupid and from another country that's not America. He's everything that's bad and evil in this world and he..."

"But...but..."

"...doesn't care about anyone but himself and all his money. He takes a bath in all his hundred dollar bills. Did you know he killed a man in Texas? A kind, decent, hard working American man named Jack McCormick? Yeah. Jack couldn't find one of those sissy burrito things those people eat and Manny took him into the batting cages and used his head for a tee. They never did find Jack's head."

Tears begin to stream down Billy's face.

"Oh sure. Go ahead and cry. I'd cry too if I found out my hero was really just a bad, bad man who blows his nose with the American flag. And you know what else, Bobby? You know why Manny's hair is so long?"

"W..w...why?"

"Because he doesn't want to be bald like you. He won't even look at people like you. Manny hates kids. And puppies. But he especially hates kids with cancer. And that's because he IS a cancer."

Billy's nurse re-enters the room.

"Just wanted to make sure everything was okay in here! Billy, we'll bring you down for your treatment later so that you can have more time with Mr. Callahan."

"No, no, that's okay. I'll go now."

"Are you sure? I know how much you hate the treatments and those really big needles."

"I'm really sure. Definitely sure. Absolutely sure." Billy jumps out of bed, into his wheelchair and burns rubber out of his room.

"Nice meeting you, Bobby! You take care! So, could any other kids use a visit?"

"We have a new patient who just got here a couple of hours ago. He was wearing a 'Manny Being Manny' t-shirt and a Big Papi hat so I'm guessing he's a fan."

Gerry rubs his hands together.

"Excellent. Show me to his room."

The Calcified Captain Stays Classy

That's not the only stereotype these women have to deal with. In a post-Kobe world, everyone assumes that athletes' long absences involve on-the-road hanky-panky. Perhaps surprisingly, these women say they don't worry about that. Groupies throwing themselves at their husbands is just part of their lives. "It's hard to say you get used to it, but it's kinda like you just have to deal with it," Karen Varitek says. "Everyone's got to understand, though, that he's a married guy with a family." She says she knows about other guys on the team cheating. "But after talking to friends, I've pretty much figured out that it happens in the business world, too. [Our husbands] do have more opportunity because they're away a lot, but so do businessmen who travel." Anyway, she says, she and Jason are strong Christians who go to Bible study even during the season (along with the Mirabellis). "And that's really what keeps us going: our faith in God, and you've gotta have faith in each other and trust each other."

Oops! So much for that Bible study. The Captain must have missed the part that says, "Thou shall not covet anything in a skirt."

Sox catcher Jason Varitek is splitting with his wife, Karen. The team captain filed for divorce July 28 in Gwinnett County, Ga., where the couple live in the offseason. They were married in 1997 and have three daughters, ages 8, 6, and 3. Varitek is in the final year of a four-year, $40-million contract he signed after the BoSox won the World Series in 2004. He'll be a free agent at the end of this season, though he turns 37 in April and is hitting just .216. Neither Varitek's attorney, Pamela Tremayne, nor his wife's attorney, Jonathan Levine, returned our phone calls yesterday.

I wonder what Jason's favorite kids movie is...?

Sox Appeal Season 2 Ep. 2: Go-Go Dancer, Your Life Is Calling

Let it never be said that Sox Appeal isn't educational.

You see, when I first heard that tonight's dating hero is an on-again, off-again go-go dancer, I thought that was a nice way of saying she's a stripper. As it turns out, go-go dancers and strippers are quite different from each other. There's the whole clothing thing. While they don't wear much, there is a little bit of fabric between the go-go dancer and the pole. The most famous go-go dancer is Carol Doda from San Francisco. She danced for almost thirty years at the city's famous Condor Club before retiring to open Carol Doda's Champagne & Lace Lingerie Boutique,which specializes in plus sized corsets and leather pants. Go-Go dancing is prominently figured in one of the most underrated Mystery Science Theater 3000 episodes, Girl In Gold Boots.


Check out this video: MST3K-A-Go-Go



And as we find out in tonight's episode, at least one go-go dancer has the brains to match the bustier. If only she could have saved this episode from the vortex of suck swirling around Fenway Park.

Meet Kristen Gramazio.




She's a freelance web designer and 2002 semi-finalist for the Miss Massachusetts title. She's looking for "a metrosexual. Nice teeth, works out, has big muscles and always looks good." Jesus, honey, get in line. She's also a gearhead, which gives Not-Lenny-Clark an audible erection. Ick. Come to think of it, there's a lot of ick in this episode. It's almost as bad as the Creepy McIntimacy episode from last season.


First up from the Dater Dugout is Pawan Khawani, a 25 year-old tech support guy from Milford, MA.



I gotta say, he's pretty hot. Looks kind of like an Indian John Mayer mixed with Matt LeBlanc. And he's very charming. Actually, he might be the most charming contestant in Sox Appeal history. The fact that he chews with his mouth closed and doesn't walk on all fours already puts him ahead of 95% of the rest. You'll see what I mean later on.

Pawan and Kristen hit it off immediately. They discuss their careers and how he enjoys being the center of attention. As they're getting to know each other, we're introduced to the two neanderthals in the Dater Dugout.

Bill Robinson is a former state trooper who now runs a golf course.



Chris Fiers is a male stripper who works for the Male Encounter show.



And yes, by "Male Encounter show", I mean THAT Male Encounter show.


I don't want to say that NESN jumped into the shallow end of the gene pool with these performance enhancers but they really should get that bump on their head looked at. Listening to them talk is like listening to Fred Smerlas and Steve DeOssie, only less red and less hairy. I think they talked about golf but it was difficult to understand without a Mumbles to English translator.

Back at the table, Pawan is charming the go-go boots off of Kristen. She challenges him to do 25 push-ups and he happily obliges. They make a very cute couple, which is always a bad sign.

Meanwhile, the Sons of Karl Childers are engaging in some frighteningly homoerotic trash talking.

"So whaddya think's gonna happen with our buddy ovah theyah?"
"I'm hoping crash and burn."
"I'm thinking he gets sent back aftah the first inning. If I can get an extra inning out of it, I'll be good."
"Why? You need the extra inning?"
"I only need half an inning."
"Really?"

Oh, just fuck and get it over with, will you?

"I think he's gonna slit his wrists."
"I think he did just by walkin ovah theyah."
"I don't know, though. She might be into geeks."

As this sparkling conversation is taking place, the "geek" is salsa dancing with Kristen and confesses that he's a mama's boy. His parents just moved from India to live with him and he's happy because he can pay his mother back for all that she's done for him.

Kristen swoons.

The second inning comes to a close and I have to agree with NLC: this might be the most successful date in Sox Appeal history. Again, a bad sign.

Bill heads down to the table and, in another history making moment, begins the most boring date in Sox Appeal history. No joke, I actually nodded off a little bit. He's not the least bit outgoing and getting him to answer questions is like pulling teeth. He's also a little confused on the meaning of the word honest.

"I'm very forward, very honest..."
"Have you ever cheated?"
"Yes."

One of these things is not like the other...

While Kristen makes Bill do the mandatory 25 push-ups, Chris is hammering Pawan for details.

"Blonde, gorgeous, brains, she had it all. She made me do push-ups, taught me how to dance a little bit.."
"Wait a minute. She made you do push-ups? What, did you get one out?"

This guy really makes me enjoy the fact that steroids make your balls look like raisins.

Kristen is trying desperately to engage Bill in any kind of conversation and asks him what he thinks about the other two guys. He says Pawan is "short and naive" and Chris is "self absorbed". She's totally unimpressed and thankfully, the longest two innings of 2008 come to a close.

Oh, wait! While all of this was going on, Pawan was taunting Chris, asking him if he works out. I love this guy.

Christ, that last date was painful.

Chris isn't at the table 30 seconds before Kristen asks him to show off his Male Encounter moves.

And he does.

In front of everyone.

Including kids.

Listen, I'm far from a prude but making a woman hold your ass while thrusting your raisins in her face in front of a bunch of kids just isn't cool. And the women coming down from the stands to stick dollar bills in his pants didn't help.

The push-up challenge is next and while he gets them done, he's totally and completely out of breath and Kristen isn't impressed. All brawn, no brains and no stamina.

In the Dater Dugout, Pawan notices that Chris left behind a felt flower that he had intended to give to Kristen. He walks back to the table, apologizes for interrupting and says he forgot to give her the flower. Kristen is delighted and hugs him as Chris sits there and sulks. Pawan winks at Chris and heads back to the Dugout. This kid? Balls like grapefruits.

I have to give Bill credit. After Chris's date comes to a close, he switches seats with Pawan so that Chris won't kill him for the flower stunt.

After Kristen consults with the Crow and Servo Box, she's ready to make her decision. There's just one tiny problem.

She doesn't remember his name. NLC suggests "small", "medium" and "large". I'll admit it, I chuckled.

She holds up the sign and has picked..."ONE".

Pawan! Didn't see that coming. The good guy never gets picked on these awful shows. He heads down to the table, leaving the Sons of Karl Childers in his dust, and the two head off for their dinner at The Bleacher Bar.

Someone really, really needs to have an intervention with Larry Izzo. Do a Bernie & Phyl's commercial. An ad for the Duck Boats. Anything but this.

Pawan and Kristen are together on the set with Larry and it turns out they had a great time together. They've been talking frequently since their date and have plans to go out again. Kristen says she doesn't regret her choice for a second. Awwww. It's a happy ending!

I just hope Kristen's friends don't take her to Male Encounter for the bachelorette party.

The Season Two Premiere of Sox Appeal

(Be sure to check out Manny Happy Returns, our good friend California Bill's take on Manny heading west.)

The tag line for this season's Sox Appeal is "This year the game isn't on the field."

Ain't that the truth?

In the press release announcing the new season, Joe Feld, NESN's vice president and executive producer said, "We’ve taken feedback from Red Sox Nation, added a few new twists, and made the show hotter, sexier, and funnier.”

Boy, I'm really looking forward to seeing that show because this one sucked.

Good news! Not-Lenny-Clake is back for another season. NLC introduces us to Dave Sawyer, a web developer and improv comedian.



Dave is a nice guy, good looking and has a great sense of humor. I have no idea how he made it through the auditions.

Contrary to V.P. Joe's pimping, not a lot has changed in Hell at the Ballpark. The only difference so far from last season is the debut of the Dater Dugout. Instead of having the three contestants spread out in the bleachers, they're now sitting on the opposite side of the RF Roof Deck, in the standing room only section. They must be praying for catfights. Speaking of catfights, the backdrop for this episode is the June 5th game against the Rays where things got all chippy.

The first of Dave's dates is Terri Trespicio, a 34yr-old magazine editor with a bit of a Tina Fey vibe going on.




Not just any magazine, mind you, but Martha Stewart's Body+Soul magazine and a contributor to Martha Stewart Living Radio. Her name sounded familiar so I hit Google to find out why. Turns out she's a regular contributor to the Boston Globe Sunday Magazine and wrote a very amusing article on dating and food.

Later, we put table manners on hold as we got down and dirty with two heaping platters of baby back ribs. I was licking my fingers, savoring the tangy bite of the sauce, the juicy, sweet meat as it fell away from the bone. "This. Is. So. Good," I said. "It's just so good." The messiness, the food, the beer-induced flush all conspired to make me feel rather lightheaded. I suddenly felt compelled by an instinct that rules the animal kingdom. I needed to see what he smelled like.

Out of nowhere, I leaned across the table and pressed my nose into the skin just inside his collar. And then he kissed me - sending me into a full-body pheromonal swoon. It was as if someone had turned up the volume on all of my senses at once: The room was awash in color and shadow, the murals on the walls swam to life, my ears buzzed. I sat down, shocked at myself.

"For the record," he said, "I definitely want to sleep with you." Simple as that. As if he was declaring he wanted to borrow a book or try the cheesecake.

"You do?"

"Yup."

I wasn't sure what to say. But I knew that regardless of what would or wouldn't transpire, the seduction had, in some ways, already occurred. No coy games or trick lighting. He'd simply put it all on the table.

Funny article, right? Obviously, she hasn't had any trouble finding dates so why is she subjecting herself to this bullshit? Probably for the same reason Dave is: publicity. Now, I don't know that for sure but come on. These are two well-adjusted people who shouldn't have a problem finding anyone to date. That has to be the reason, right? Please tell me that's the reason.

Dave and Terri exchange greetings and get comfortable. She impressed by his career in Improv and asks him to entertain her. He makes a valiant attempt at a song that rhymes Terri with berry but it's pretty bad. She starts asking him questions.


And more questions.


And more questions.


None of which he gets to answered because she's already asking the next one. Let's just say Terri doesn't come from the Judith Miller school of journalism.


The camera pans to the field where Coco Crisp bobs, weaves and decks the Rays' James Shields. All hell breaks loose on the field so naturally, the cameras go to the Dater Dugout, where the two other contestants are watching the fight and trying to appear somewhat interested.

In the Dater Dugout are Kate Walston, a 26 year-old health foods business owner,




and Lauren Rubin, a 25 year-old bartender who lives with her grandmother down the Cape.




Kate tells Lauren, "I don't drink, never smoked a cigarette in my life. I work out every day. I do yoga." Lauren, who has never turned down a drink in her life, snickers and Kate replies, "Well, I'm not a party girl."

Translation? Unlike you, I won't give a blow job for a nip of Malibu Rum.

Meow.

Back at the table, Dave and Terri are asking each other questions from special Sox Appeal cards. Oooh! Twist!

Yawn.

It's not Dave and Terri's fault. It's just so contrived. Maybe after Grandpa Gone Wild from last season, they wanted to control the direction of the conversation.

Their date comes to a close and Kate makes her way to the table. As soon as she's out of earshot, Lauren says, "That was kind of painful." She looks like Elisabeth Hasselbeck, minus the Orange Glo.

Kate wasn't kidding about her secret attraction to Dustin Pedroia. Here she is at the 2007 ALCS.




*facepalm*


By the way, picture was taken by erstwhile Globe shutterbug Steve Silva, which is really strange since it's in focus.

Dave and Kate make with the introductions and after hearing that she's into health food, he asks her what she does when she comes to Fenway. "When I come, I always pack my own lunch or my own dinner."

Strike one.

To get over the shock, Dave invites her to play a little Improv game based on the Celtics. When he asks her to name a player, she has to look in the Crow and Servo seats for help.

Strike two.

On the other side of the roof, Lauren is completely railing about Kate to Lauren. They decide to send a tray full of nachos, hot dogs, french fries and beer to the table. Dave's excited because he's hungry but Kate looks like Jerry Remy just hacked up a tobacco filled loogey and spit it on the table. She picks up the french fries, holding them away from her body as if she'd gain fifty pounds by fucking osmosis and gives them to the table behind her.

I'm not saying that eating nothing but twigs and berries has made Kate a little uptight but there's definitely a stick that could use removal.

Once the French Fry Crisis of 2008 had been averted, Kate asks Dave if he plays sports or is the type of guy who gets excited about going out for a run. You know, like a cocker spaniel. He says that's not really his thing and she replies, "So that's a clear cut difference."

Strike three.

It's pretty obvious this date is going nowhere but instead of bowing out with dignity, Kate takes a shot at Lauren on the way out. "You should probably line up a few beers for the next girl."

WOW! Who knew tofu made you that hostile?

Kate and Lauren cross paths on the stairs and as they're sniping at each other, there's a gigantic boom mic in between their faces. Maybe that's one of the new twists for this season. "We'll show you EXACTLY how we increased our production values!"

Dave's digging Lauren already. He pulls out a deck of cards and has her memorize one. He goes back into the deck and holds up...the wrong card. You can tell Lauren's thinking he's a loser until he bites into a hot dog...and into her card.

The Aristocrats!

"Anyone who can pull a three of clubs out of a wiener is good in my book!"

I just...wow.

He picks a Sox Appeal card and asks her to describe her craziest drinking story. Oddly enough, it doesn't begin with "when I was nine...". She tells him how she attended a charity Lionel Richie (Hey, NESN, it's Richie, not Ritchie) concert and decided to be airbrushed instead of wearing clothes.

I think it's safe to say we could end the show right now, right?

Over in the Dater Dugout, Terri takes a couple of very subtle swings at Kate, calling her a goody-two shoes. You almost feel bad for her. I mean, it's nothing a little bacon couldn't fix.

Dave asks Lauren if she has any hidden talents and she says like most girls, she can tie a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue.

Hang on.

Most girls can do that? Really? Did I miss the memo? Is this a skill that comes in a kit alongside Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret, a Kotex pad and a bottle of Nair?

Right on cue, the waitress brings a bowl of cherries to the table. Lauren takes the stem, pops it in her mouth and a few moments later, both the stem and Dave are tied up in knots.

The inning comes to a close and Lauren goes back to the dugout.

Awwww, Manny just hit a homah! Sigh. I assumed they'd scrub him from all the footage like the networks did with the World Trade Center after 9/11. Which, by the way, Manny was responsible for, along with Hurricane Katrina, the tsunami, global warming, global cooling, gas prices, the assassinations of both Lincoln AND Kennedy, the death of Princess Diana, breast cancer, Donald Trump's hair, Ted Kennedy and Bob Novak's respective brain tumors, Baby Jessica falling down the well, Heath Ledger's overdose, the introduction of New Coke, the closing of both Ames and Caldor, Owen Hart's fall, the cancellation of Firefly, Heidi and Spencer, Barbaro, our failing public school systems and Ishtar.

Quick, in the battle of the sanctimonious douchebags, who's the champ: Gerry Callahan or Peter Gammons?

In the dugout, Terri has the unfortunate luck of sitting between Lauren and Kate as they bitch back and forth at each other. At this point, I'm just rooting for injuries.

It's time for Dave to make his big decision and surprising absolutely no one, he picks Lauren. As she makes her way down to the table, Kate and Terri console themselves by saying he obviously went for the sure thing.

Bitches, man. Bitches.

Dave and Lauren head off to La Verdad to enjoy the rest of the evening and with that, the first episode of this season's Sox Appeal comes to a merciful en...

What the hell is this?

The Dunkin' Donuts Morning After Recap, hosted by Larry Izzo?

LARRY IZZO??

Are you f'ing kidding me?? Larry, you've got three Super Bowl rings. You play for one of the greatest football teams in in NFL history. You cannot possibly be that hard up for cash. Don't degrade yourself like this. If you need money, just do what Clay Buchholz did and pawn a few laptops. No one will care!

Unbelievable.

Sadly, there wasn't a love connection between Dave and Lauren and I don't think Chuck Woolery has anything to be concerned about. Larry Izzo...that's just wrong.

Be sure to come back next week when one of the contestants is a stripper!

(insert Pesky Pole joke here)

Manny Happy Returns?

Tiki has graciously invited me to contribute to her blog. I have been hard pressed to come up with a topic, as I generally like to write in the evenings and lately I have been preoccupied between 6-11 p.m. being lectured by consumnate professional Mike Adams on what is expected of an employee. if I ever get a job, I hope to apply his valuable lessons. Also, did you know Jim Lonborg is a dentist? Mikey knows everything about doing your job clearheaded and the 1967 Red Sox. Anyway, as I was struggling to fill this space I was fortunate enough to hear from a colleague in California named Bill, who, do to a debilitating case of the sniffles, has not been able to turn his computer on for weeks. He was, however, able to courageously dial my number, and, sotto voce, dictate the following screed.

West Hollywood, California: 4 O'clock thursday came (noon out here...pretty early for a trade deadline, don't you think? If Billy Beane is anything like me, he would have just got his wife to stop screeching about the baby in time to sit down to Small Wonder on TBS). Manny was still with the Sox...I breathed a sigh of relief. Was it time for him to go? Yes...and no. But also, maybe. Trust me here. I had 2500 words written that clearly, unequivocally stated my position on this. There was no way my position on whether Manny should stay or go could be construed by anyone, even some cynical blogger, as being ambivalent. So I had it all ready to go, the phone rings...my friend Jimmy (he has a TV show...on at night. Late at night.) called me. He broke up with his girlfriend Sara (she's an actress and a comedian...on TV, in movies...show business! Proximity! So...close....please....) Huh? Where was I? So I'm talking to Jimmy, and then I get a text from Beansie (I can't print it here, but you would have rotflyao. Trust me.) When I finally got back to the computer, my text was gone, and staring back at me was an Usweekly website! The bitch! Who is better for Selena Gomez, Nick Jonas or Shia LaBeouf? Duh...Ni- I mean, who gives a fuck? Sports! Gambling! Champagne room! Anyway, I was devastated. I craft my columns, and each column is like giving birth to 5000 children. I swear, that was the reason I got sick. I locked the door and barely summoned up the energy to masturbate.

So now starts the post-Manny era. One part of me feels it had to happen. He was a distraction, he was obsessed with his contract above the team, and he hates America. Another part of me feels he should still be here, along with Dave Roberts, Curtis Leskanic, Kurt Cobain, and Joe E. Tata. Seriously, Joe E. can't be on one of the 2,317 Law and Orders or CSIs? When I'm running TNT4, I swear...oh, who am I kidding? I'll never run a network. You have to be in the office, like, 4 days a week and I've got a family at home. Why did I get married? God, I miss college. It's been almost 10 years (ed. note: 20) since I graduated...staying up until almost 2 am, drinking 7-8 Bud Lights, guys smoking pot just one room over...um...you just don't take a Hall of Fame bat out of the middle of the lineup. And the antics! Who is going to do the wacky ethnic 12 point handshakes with Ortiz? Lugo's hurt, Cora's a backup...Coco? What if the instructions are in Spanish? These are the things that keep me up at night. There's a third part of me feels that my spec script for Entourage wasn't even given a chance! Back in Greenwic- Boston, we had one guy named Salamander, a guy named D, and a guy we just called Music. Now everyone's doing it. Whatever.

The page is turned. The greatest right handed hitter in Red Sox history is now out here in Los Angeles, the land of whimsy, wonder, and pain-in-the-ass wives. Will he fit in here? Yes. No. Yes? But possibly, no. I can tell you this much, I'll be watching. As long as Dodger games don't conflict with It's Your Move reruns. I remember as a kid writing in my Trapper Keeper "Bateman-keep your eye on....possible straight man? Catch phrase...I've done it now...no...I'm in for it...no....I've made a huge mist-"

It was here that our brave auteur succumbed to his double shot of dayquil and drifted off to sleep. I don't know if his many ailments will allow him to continue our correspondence, but I thank him for helping me make this deadline. Tiki really cracks the whip. Hopefully I will find the inspiration to write something on my own soon...but until then, you can be sure I'll be checking my phone for any calls coming from area code 310! cheers. cw.