Good Night, Yankee Stadium

Thanks for the memories.

Memo From God: "It Is Now OK To Mess With Texas"

Yesterday was quite a day for young Carlos Zambrano. He shut out the Astros of Houston by the score of 5-0. Pretty impressive feat, considering that the 'stros had just won 14 of their previous 15 contests. Even more impressive than this, however, was that Big Z threw not just a whitewash, but a bonafide no-hitter.

<----Here's the big fella celebrating the last out of his no-no, a strikeout of the hapless (but always gritty) Darin Erstad.

Now, you might be wondering to yourself "who on Earth is Carlos pointing to?" To which I would reply "have you never watched a baseball game before?" For the truth is that Carlos is not pointing to anyone on Earth, but rather to The Man Upstairs. You read that right: apparently, Jesus helped Z throw a no-hitter. Gee, that's not self-aggrandizing at all, is it? The idea that God himself has nothing better to do than to help you win a ballgame?

This is really nothing new. Athletes have a lot of dumb superstitions and irritating idiosyncrasies, but the Pointing To Jesus thing might just be the most asinine of them all. I mean, does Carlos really think that no one on the Astros team loves the Baby Jesus? Or maybe that Jesus only listens to the prayers of Cub pitchers? Is God's love reserved only for the Cubbies? You would certainly have a hard time proving that particular one, if the last 100 years were anything to go by. So what is it? Why would God punish the Astros like this? Clemens isn't even on the team anymore!

Hey, lots of players engage in this idiocy. I don't mean to single out Zambrano or the Cubs. I like the Cubs. I really do. When I'm not busy rooting for that team that I'm not allowed to talk about, I root for the Cubs. It's fun to root for the perennial underdog. I'd like to see them win it all one of these days. And Carlos Zambrano is very talented. He can be really fun to watch, especially when he's hitting. But Jesus didn't have a goddamn thing to do with that no-hitter.

Think about it; God could have been helping those poor people in Texas, you know? The ones whose homes were destroyed by Hurricane Ike. Those people. But instead, the Jesus was busy causing the Astros hitters to swing and miss. Does Jesus really have time for such things? One would think that God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, whatever, would be much too busy with the whole "running the entire universe" thing. One baseball game in September probably just doesn't rate, especially when you consider the average time of game these days. Heck, even if God were omnipotent and omniscient, surely he doesn't still control everything at all times. Perhaps it's all been written already. Do you mean to tell me that Carlos Zambrano's no-no was just one small part of the Divine Plan? I'm not buying it.

If I were Jesus, I'd be pretty ticked off by such an egocentric display. It's actually quite narcissistic, I think. Because what you're actually saying is that God is more invested in doing things for YOU than he is in ANYTHING ELSE. Your prayers mattered more than those of the other team. Your baseball game was more important than, say, the lives of anyone who prayed for mercy in Darfur. The higher-ups at Lehman Brothers are on suicide watch right now, but I'm sorry, God is not taking their calls.

I think that MLB should enact a rule: you can thank Jesus when good things happen, but only if you give Jesus the finger when something bad happens. You ground into an inning-ending double play with the tying run on third? Jesus gets the double-deuce. You give up a game-winning homer, you call God on the carpet in the postgame interview. I notice that Zambrano never makes any mention of his friend God after a bad start. Was God simply angry that day? Did they have a fight or something? And what about all of Zambrano's arm troubles? Were those God's way of just mixing things up a little? Man, God sure does like to test people.

If Zambrano cussed out God after a bad start, then I might take this whole thing a bit more seriously. The only punishment I ever see after these starts is that which gets dished out to the Gatorade cooler. I've seen that a bunch of times. Carlos is a bit of a hothead, as we all know. I just want to hear him curse out God after giving up 6 earned in 4 2/3 innings. Just once, I'd love to see it.

I've been looking at this all wrong. I got distracted by the fact that this game was played in Milwaukee. I totally forgot that this was a Texas team that got the no-no thrown at them. So not only does God pitch a no-hitter against the Astros, but he also sends one of those pesky hurricanes to devastate southern Texas. What does God have against Texas? If it was San Francisco, that I could understand. Bunch of godless commies living there. But Texas is God Country! You would expect a little clemency for Texas, right? It's getting to the point where you can't trust anybody.

I don't even know what to think anymore.

The Yankee Guy Followup Post; Or Even More Ways to Piss Off BSMW

Hey Red Sox Nation, how y'all doing? I'm fine, thanks.

I wanted to take the time to answer some of your questions and accusations. I didn't want to misrepresent myself any further than I already had in my previous post. I freely admit that the piece I wrote on Thursday was a little rough. It definitely could have used tighter editing and some proofreading, among other things.

This started out as a response to Rick in the comments section of that post, but as per usual I wrote way too much. I do go on a bit, and it just became too cumbersome to use as a simple response. I figured to just put up an actual post to clear the air.

Thanks go to Rick, by the way, for having actual substance in his critique, instead of just saying "this guy likes the Yankees- he must be an idiot." That's not a very productive way to open dialogue. You all are certainly allowed to disagree with the things that I wrote, or even to think that I actually am an idiot; it is a free country, after all. But if you based your entire judgment on the fact that I rooted for a different sports team, that would be patently ridiculous. For one thing, you're not going to get very far in this world if you only associate with people who agree with everything you say. For another (much more important) thing, I wouldn't stick up for Curt Schilling even if I were a Red Sox fan. I just wouldn't. I don't have double standards for asshole players just because they play for my team. You don't know me from a hole in the wall, but I can assure you that this is the case. I could come up with a laundry list of Yankees who I can't stand, and Yankee transgressions that I wouldn't dream of defending. Paul O'Neill was one of the biggest assholes who ever laced up a pair of spikes. David Wells was a half-drunk idiot who wasted his talent AND was friends with Mark Fuhrman. I could write a book on how much I hate A-Rod. Roger Clemens? Bitch, please. You get the idea.

Anyway, on to my stirring defense of myself:

1) I think one of the operative premises of the piece--that Schilling's “Yankees suck this year” equals Duncan's "Red Sox suck" is pretty specious.

No, they are not exactly the same. It was never my intention to present these two incidents as exactly interchangeable, but I believed that there were enough similarities to make a decent comparison. I would not describe this as "specious."

The former is pretty much point of fact when you're looking at their record which I'm pretty sure was his point, the latter is trash talk that I'm sure Schilling finds unbecoming of a kid who hasn't 'paid his dues' yet, etc.

They’re both trash talk. One is just trash talk that you enjoy hearing. As I said in my piece, I do not dispute the fact that the Yankees do, indeed, suck this season. They have the highest payroll in the sport yet they’re barely a .500 team. Their massive suckitude is not even worth debating at this point.

No, the disconnect for me comes from the fact that this is weak, puerile trash-talk from a guy (Schilling) who's preaching to the choir (the WEEI audience). This kind of crap is, frankly, not a worthy comment from a man of his station. We fans can say shit like this, and who really cares? It’s just the fans talking. Schilling is an elder statesman at this point in his career, and should probably be just a bit more diplomatic.

Yes, this is only my opinion. Of course it's only my opinion. I'm writing an article on an internet sports blog. That's where opinions go. This is the way I wish things could be. I wish Curt Schilling was less of an abrasive jackass. Just an opinion, but opinions and passions are the primary currency for sports fans. It's not as if there are mathematical theorems which dictate the teams we should like and the players whose posters go on our walls.

Pompous gasbags wear me out. I’m fed up with Schilling being the guy who gets to decide when someone has paid their dues or not. It seems like Schilling gets to make all of these decisions. When Curt pitches inside, well that's just the way you're supposed to pitch. When an opposing pitcher comes inside on a Sox batter, then it’s “bush league.” The man is thoroughly blind to his own hypocrisy. And somehow I doubt that Shelley Duncan’s boneheaded actions would have been deemed acceptable if he (Duncan) were a 15-year veteran.

People who don’t root for the Sox are tired of Schilling’s act. That can’t be news to anyone. Schilling is the first one to chime in and talk some shit about another team or another fanbase. To his eyes, other teams are always pulling bullshit moves, but the Sox are somehow immune. Unless it's Manny Ramirez, I mean. Manny is fair game.

Did Schilling ever go on Jim Rome's show and call Pedroia bush league for pulling the exact same "slap play" as A-Rod? No? I guess it must have been a hardnosed baseball play when Pedroia did it. That was playing the game the right way, doing what it takes to win.

Whether or not I agree with him (I don't), this comes off as a pretty flimsy excuse to just unload on Schilling.

I'm glad we agree on something, at least. Was it really that flimsy of an excuse, though? Really? Having a flimsy excuse didn't seem to stop Schilling before he decided to damn an entire fanbase as ghoulish creeps. I felt like sticking up for myself and for fans like me. I wrote a rambling letter about it to Tiki, who agreed with me. She told me to expand on it and she’d put it up. I didn't hold a gun to Tiki's head. She thought I made some good points. You disagreed. Tiki either lets me write other pieces, or decides that it's not worth the aggravation. You then get to decide whether or not to read any more of her site. The system works. It's all the same to me. I was just rambling off the cuff; I'm certainly not a pro. Politics never even entered into it, since Tiki and I don't share all of the same beliefs.

2)The whole bit about NE fans being miserable from time immemorial...isn't this the kind of thing that we rightfully call BS on when Shaughnessy trots it out?

Yes, I stretched the truth a bit to make an ironic point, but I didn’t make the entire thing up. A little poetic license. A small dose of absurdity to combat an even more absurd argument from Schilling. Dan Shaughnessy found a kernel of truth and exaggerated it beyond all recognition, but the kernel did exist. I lived in Boston for three years. I met many area sports fans who were bitter. This was back in the early 90s, and much has changed since than, but back then there were definitely some fans who felt this way. The Sox were mediocre, the Pats were also-rans, and Reggie Lewis had just died. It was a tough time to root for the locals.

Shaughnessy invented the "Curse of the Bambino" from whole cloth, but he didn't invent everything. He didn't completely invent the downtrodden nature of some of the fans. Much of that was a media creation, but it's not as if literally ZERO fans felt that way. Some fans were fairly fatalistic. No, not all of the fans. And no, they weren’t nearly as morose as Shank and others made it seem. But there were certainly, you know, some.

This idea really became twisted when writers tried to make it seem as if Sox fans preferred to be miserable; that they were actually unhappy with breaking the string of futility. We all know that that’s nonsense. My original point was only that there was an incredible amount of irony in Boston’s own Curt Schilling calling another fanbase out for being defeatist and miserable.

Either way, I can’t possibly be expected to apologize for disliking Curt Schilling.

3) The whole blue collar thing...silly. On one hand it's coin of the realm for messageboard fans to react like jerks to injury, but on the other hand that's confined to messageboards, but on the other hand everyone this guy talks to feels bad for Brady, but on the other hand all of Boston would be celebrating a Manning dismemberment and that would be okay and as it should be?

I’ll admit that I meandered quite a bit here. It was late, I got a little too stream-of-consciousness, and I was not clear with my intended argument [Hey, I warned Tiki that it was a rough draft]. My argument was not that all NY fans are decent while all Boston fans are jerks who revel in rival players' injuries. I was trying to argue something else entirely. I was trying to say that both sides have their good and bad elements. I took issue with Schilling’s assertion, which seemed to depict a frighteningly large demographic of New Yorkers who were dancing on Brady’s grave (or MCL as it were). I merely meant to say that I hadn’t really seen much of this reaction for myself, not that it wasn’t happening at all. Curt made it sound like this attitude was prevalent. I wanted to show that I hadn’t seen nearly as much of this as Schilling would have us believe. But yes, there were going to be some jerks who did feel that way. You did see the part about Vinny and Vito high-fiving each other, right? I notice you didn’t care much for my name choices there, but since I actually know a Vinny and a Vito, I’m sticking with those.

I don’t literally think that the entire Bay State would be celebrating if the Manning boys were in a crippling car wreck, nor do I think that the Cask N’ Flagon would install confetti cannons on the roof. But there would undoubtedly be some fans, somewhere, who were secretly a little bit happy about it. That’s the nature of fans. Good and bad everywhere.

I like my teams but I don’t like the intense hatred that goes along with some of these rivalries. I don't form personal relationships based on who you root for. I had to stop reading kissingsuzykolber last football season because it just got too disgusting. Between the constant calls for someone to take out Brady’s knees (ulp) and the incessant accusations of Boston racism, I’d had more than enough.

Lotta logical twists and turns there but it seems like the governing tone is "I know better than the blue-collar meatheads do" which I find pretty elitist/whatever word fits and distasteful and that's what really got me irritated w/this piece and compelled me to comment.

This is the one I do have to apologize for. I shouldn’t have said “blue-collar.” It’s not even really what I meant. I wanted to illustrate a certain kind of sports fan, and I settled on a clumsy adjective that didn’t really apply. I wrote it down without even thinking, and didn’t proofread. I was making a broad statement using a convenient generalization. My glibness came back to bite me.

Sometimes generalizations can be useful. Other times they can be inaccurate to the point of offensiveness. For that I am sorry. If it sounded elitist or dismissive, that was never my intention. I have nothing against the working man. My own father was a janitor. My mother had me when she was 17. I used to work in a factory assembling transmission parts. I lived in Oakland, for Christ's sake. I know from humble circumstances.

You know what I'm talking about though, right? There is a kind of sports fan that I was trying to describe. This person does exist, and is worthy of criticism. You know the kind of person I’m talking about. The Yankee Stadium bleacher creature who calls David Ortiz a “fat monkey.” The guy in Colorado who makes slanty eyes and talks in a Long Duk Dong voice when Dice-K pitches (I actually witnessed this at World Series Game 3 last year). The Sox fan who wears a JETER SWALLOWS shirt while attending a game with his 7-year old son. The guy who wants to go to the game, get drunk, and maybe get into a fistfight with a fan of the other team. The guy who won’t stop and help someone whose car has broken down in a rainstorm because the stranded driver is wearing the wrong hat (hello, Bill Simmons). The kind of person who takes sports a little too seriously and acts like a hostile and even violent asshole because of it. Imagine a gay couple holding hands and walking through certain sections of certain stadiums. The guy who gives that couple shit is the guy I was trying to describe.

As you can see, this can apply just as easily to the message board commando as to the belligerent guy in the cheap seats. Both guys are assholes. Both guys’ sense of self-worth is predicated on the success of a sports team combined with the misery of the team’s rivals. I won’t take back “meathead,” because no one should aspire to be one of these. But blue-collar was wrong. I should have thought of a better way to express this. Maybe “classless” would have worked?

So there you go. Sorry if I offended anyone with my "blue-collar" remark. Not sorry for offending fans of Curt Schilling.

And the Yankees still suck.

Curt Schilling Orders Entire State Of New York Off Of His Lawn

Say now, what's old no. 38 up to these days? He's such a charming fellow, I feel bad when he slips under the radar. So where are you, Schill? What's new in your world? Have you been... pitching? Hmmm, nope. Showing up to camp in the best shape of your life? Hmmmmmm. Doesn't look like it. Very peculiar, that. I thought only *clubhouse cancers* showed up to camp overweight. Making 8 million U.S. dollars for doing literally nothing? Yes, he does appear to be doing that. Doing a damn fine job of it, if I do say so. What about, oh I don't know, running his stupid big mouth again? Why yes! Yes that's exactly what old no. 38, that lovable rapscallion, the protector of the Game's Dignity, is doing these days. And might I say, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Look, it's hard goddamn work being Curt Schilling. Who else could shoulder the responsibility that this man does? Few, if any, other major leaguers have the vision, the judgment, the commitment to excellence. Few, if any, other men are as steeped in the Rules of Baseball. It's not easy being the final arbiter of the Right and Wrong ways to play the game, but number 38 is more than man enough for the task. That's one thing I've always said about Schilling, the man knows how to play baseball. If he sees someone that is playing the game the Wrong Way, do you really expect Schill to keep quiet? You must not be familiar with the man's body of work. He's a gunslinger. A warrior. A throwback.

Me personally, I'd love to have Schill weigh in (Get it? Because he's fat.) on every sports controversy that occurs in a calendar year. What on Earth am I going on about? Let's take a journey back, back through the mists of time. The Wayback Machine has taken us all the way back the September 14th, 2007. Does that date ring any bells for you? It should, for that was the day when New York Yankees quadruple-A wunderkind Shelley Duncan revealed himself as one of the worst human beings in the world. What did the career minor-leaguer do that earned him a spot in the New England sports Hall of Shame? Shelley Duncan signed a kid's notebook that day, and on that notebook he wrote "Red Sox suck." Pretty much a dick move, most of us would say. I'm an actual fan of the Yankees, and I thought it was stupid. The way I see it, Sox fans can keep their insipid "Yankees suck" chant to themselves. I see no reason to engage in namecalling. I also have no doubt that Curt Schilling thought that it was a bush-league thing to do. Curt always tells us when things are bush. Who better to ask? The guy's a winner, am I right? He's the keeper of the flame! When something's bush, he's not keeping it to himself.

And yet...this is what the Grand Marshall of Baseball Morality and Comportment had to say yesterday:
"The euphoria in New York is palpable," Schilling said. "I mean, the Yankees suck this year. And they're bitter and mad and they're making excuses over that. And now, you know, now they got Tom going down, so, you know, New York's excited."

Yeah, Curt. I know. The Yankees, this year, DO suck. I say this as a lifelong fan of the men in pinstripes. They've been awful. I can say that. I'm just a fan. You, on the other hand, are a player. An active player. A professional. The Moral Compass of Baseball. Don't you think it's a little unseemly to engage in the "Yankees suck" phenomenon? This is the star you want to hitch your not-insignificant wagon to?

Let's lay our cards on the table, Curt. If another active player (and a union rep at that!) made a similar comment about YOUR team, how would you react? Don't bother answering. We both know how you would respond. The plain truth is that you would be the fucking point-man leading the angry mob. The superstitious townfolk with torches and pitchforks would follow your lead. They would devour every angry syllable that you uttered or wrote. If someone said that about YOUR team you'd post a 15,000 word screed on your tedious blog. You'd spent 36 straight hours on the Sons of Sam Horn message board. You would set a world record for number of times the word "bush" was used in a single blog post. You know the way the game should be played, after all, and you know the way that "real" fans should behave.

As a professional ballplayer, you have a higher standard to meet. Talking trash about other teams? What is this, the NFL? The decent thing to do would probably have been to say "The Yankees have had a disappointing season, and it's understandable that their fans are feeling a little dejected." Something like that. That should have been it. Otherwise, you come off as every bit the punk that Jose Canseco is. At least that bloated fool had the decency to wait until he was sufficiently out of baseball before burning his bridges.

And to accuse NY fans of being "bitter and miserable?" I realize that you're still a relative newcomer to the Boston scene and all, but... are you kidding? Bitterness and misery were the basis for NE fans' entire persona for almost all of the 20th century. Boston fans had cornered the market on misery. Up until '04, the year you rode into town on your white horse, New Englanders fairly exulted in their underdog status. You weren't around for all of that, even though you pretend to be one of them. Trust me- bitterness and misery and fear/acceptance of losing were all very much a part of the collective subconscious in the Commonwealth. Of course these fans wanted the Sox to win. But they expected them to lose. Ask a real Sox fan. Someone who's been there for longer than 4 years. Part of the culture was built around their perennial resignation. You can look it up. Books have been written.

Since 2004, much has changed. The Sox and Pats, now even the Celtics, have enjoyed tremendous success. With that success has come a commensurate level of confidence and pride in one's team. But dude, before that? It was pretty fucking rough. Yes, the arrogance and the joy are there now, but that's now. It is simply disingenuous for you to act like the misery was never there before. It was a huge component of the Sox fan's identities for a long, long time. Suddenly they have all this great success, and the "woe is us" stuff is unseemly? Feeling bad about your team's lack of success is undignified? Good thing you weren't there for the Kevin Kennedy years.

Also, who are all these New Yorkers who are "reveling" in Brady's injury? Everyone I've read or listened to talks about what a terrible shame it is. Even Bill Simmons was surprised that there wasn't more vitriol over this one. Are we just talking about anonymous meatheads on message boards? Well, what do you expect from them? I realize that these are the only kinds of people who will actually still talk to Curt Schilling, but the rest of us know that message boards are a cesspool. You don't go there for sparkling wit and compassion. You go to message boards to crack wise and to say horrible things about people. Most of the time you come up with a bitchin' pseudonym to protect yourself. Then you're free to play. It's not pleasant. I would be the first one to tell you that. But it's also not a representative sample of the way real people think and feel. And another thing, this awfulness is not exactly confined to New Yorkers.

Are we really going to play the "our fans would never act that way" game? Let me paint you a picture. Imagine, if you will, that the Manning brothers were in a horrific car accident that left them both paralyzed for life. Sounds terrible, doesn't it? How would Patriots fans react to that? Well, in Curt Schilling's world Pats fans would all hold hands, send flowers, and sing "Amazing Grace" for the next six months. The power of prayer cannot be underestimated. The reality, though, would be quite a bit different. Many a Pats fan would smile when they heard this news. There would be 24/7 confetti cannons firing from the top of the Cask 'N Flagon. Please, let's not pretend otherwise. It doesn't do anyone any good.

Sports fans, especially the blue collar kind, are not always great people. That's just the cold truth. When it comes to stuff like this, an injury to a rival's star player, the claws come out. It can be depressing. But it's not a fucking tri-state area thing. It's an everywhere thing. You know, Curt, it's really funny. Boston fans hate New York fans, and New York fans hate Boston fans. They both accuse the other guys of being creeps and frontrunners. They're both right, and they're both wrong. And everyone else in the world hates both of us.

Everyone I've talked to, read, or listened to, feels bad for Tom Brady. Even the most virulent Patriot haters think that this was a damn shame. Yet if you wanted to, if you looked in the right places, you would find jerks who took no small amount of pleasure in Brady's misfortune. Vinny from Bensonhurst and Vito from Staten Island probably don't feel the same way that I do. They probably high-fived each other when the news broke. Those guys are jerks. I don't agree with them on very much. But those aren't the only kind of sports fans in the world. There are real, decent sports fans outside of New England. Sorry, Curt.

You've taught me so much, no. 38. It's only fitting, since you're the smartest guy in the room.
I've learned:
That a man can be a world class, Hall of Fame-level talent
and a legendary big-game performer
and a devoted, loving father
and a deeply spiritual, devout Christian
and a generous soul who raises millions for charity.
And that man can still be a total asshole.

Here endeth the lesson.

Sox Appeal Season 2 Ep. 6: All In the Family

Hello, and welcome to another Pink Hat Hell Sox Appeal Recap. I'm Denise- your guest recapper for this super-sized episode. Welcome aboard, and here we go!

This week's episode centers around Noah, a contractor from Acushnet, Mass who happens to be the ninth of eleven children.




There are two "shocking twists" in this episode that end up being anything but- the entire family has come along as an audience, and one of Noah's sisters, Liz, is ALSO going to have three dates, although she doesn't know it.



Liz works as a hairdresser "in her brother's salon", and the viewing audience is confused for the first time this episode, as they never explain which brother- but I think I spotted the hairdresser in a sleeveless Sox tank and a Prince Valiant Haircut. He looks like a more ripped version of Timothy Treadwell.

Not Lenny Clarke is in rare form, as he explains that the Sox are playing Seattle and it's really fucking hot, and then gives us a brief overview of the dates. They have the casting videos from the women, but not the men, and Not Lenny Clarke lets us know that one of the women has recently lost 65 pounds and "gained some major hotness". You can't see me, but I just stabbed myself in the eye. The Ex-Fatty also carries around a picture of her old self- I'm not sure if she does this all the time or if the producers asked her to. The old version of her was cute, in an Amelie Benjamin kind of way, while the new her looks like every other twenty-something blond woman in the Fenway area.

It doesn't appear that the entire family got seats- there's the table for the date and just one four seater table for family members. Does the rest of the family have seats elsewhere, or are they stuck with SRO? Another mystery that is never explained. We get one of those pointless interstitials with some radio host who I never heard of before telling us that dates are just a way to pass the time between meeting someone and having sex with them. Sox Appeal is a show for the whole family to watch.

And now we see Noah heading down the stairs to the cheers and jeers of his attending family. He interviews that he walked down and saw everyone and was like "are you bleeping bleeping me?!" There's a lot of high fiving, ("bro! Way to show up!") and away we go. Our first date is between Noah and Tiffany. Her card says that likes "Guido" types, and wants a cute outgoing guy who wants to have a good time. This is good, because it leaves the homely D&D-playing depressives for the rest of us.

She tells him what she does for a living and asks how big his family is. Noah curses some more. Meanwhile, in the Daters Dugout, it looks like Garth the filmmaker and his douchebag sunglasses are hitting on the guys. No Garth! No! I can see why he's confused- Thomas the wrestler has bigger boobs than Liz does.

Tiffany hands Noah a small stuffed Wally doll as a gift and off she goes up the stairs. That was quick.


Down the stairs comes Andrew in a t-shirt looking for Liz, who is completely inexpressive and totally blase. That was the most boring "surprise" ever didn't they leave in the part where the producer explains to her what's going on? Now we're talking about laundry, and I'm starting to see why Tiki handed this recap over to me. Andrew is cute and works with kids, but Liz is looking around a lot, which is not a good sign.

It appears that one of Noah's brother's has gone over to talk to Shayna, one of Noah's other dates, in the Daters Dugout. (Although it's impossible to tell, because instead of the normal 4 dinks we get each episode, we now seem to have at least 25 young white people with extremely heavy Boston accents, all wearing Sox gear, milling around the show. God forbid we get a graphic telling us who the hell they are.) According to the visiting brother, Noah is "a little out of the realm" (sic). He should talk to his brother with the Prince Valiant hairdo. I'm sure he could help Noah back over the moat and into the kingdom.

Meanwhile, Andrew is showing Liz pictures of his niece and asking her questions about herself. She seems really unimpressed, and the date is over.

Prince Valiant and Liz are teasing Noah that they thought Andrew was here for him! Ha ha ha! Not Lenny Clarke tells us that would be a "very special edition" of Sox Appeal. Maybe they're saving it for next season. We wouldn't want the show to be watchable or different, or anything!

Here's our next couple: Noah and Lea. This is going to be fun. Lea recently lost 65 pounds, and it looks like she died her hair blonde and got contact lenses too. Am I watching Sox Appeal or a movie with Freddie Prinze Jr? She's ready to ditch the "quiet, serious guys" and have more fun. Oh, Lordy. Lea compliments Noah on his family, then promptly stumps him when she tells him she's a spinning instructor. He has no idea what "spinnin" is and assumes she means DJ Jazzy Jeff type spinning. Noah is not the brightest bulb in the box.


Meanwhile, in the Daters Dugout, Shayna is showing off the tattoo on her wrist (her "zodiac" sign), but she won't show her tramp stamp because she has a dress on. (She claims it's the Chinese symbol for beauty. Apparently the tattoo place she went to didn't have the Chinese symbols for "alcoholism" or "over-plucked eyebrows".) Of course, because this is NESN, we have no idea who she's telling this to. One of Liz's dates? Another brother? The producer? They don't care, so neither should we.

Lea's telling Noah about her ex, who she drove to homosexuality. This episode is LITTERED with gay subtext. Noah is now talking directly to the camera, and then asks if Lea is a transsexual, but Lea just laughs and asks Noah if he's had any long term relationships. Oh, honey, don't go there. Save it for the third date- getting to know you chit-chat should never include info about the exes. In another shocking twist, Noah has never had a long term relationship. His sister Liz butts in to ask if Lea wants to know what type of animal "No-err" is; apparently he's a squirrel. The only thing I know about squirrels is that they have proportionately the largest testicles of any other animal. This is the kind of fact that I haven't verified- my friend told it to me in a bar this weekend. Just like Fox News!

Lea asks Noah what kind of animal she would be; he takes forever to answer and then spits out "a dog". Apparently it has something to do with spinning, but who knows. Noah's finished at least one beer- I'm not sure if that's made him into more of an idiot, or if he really is that stupid. Noah doesn't really seem to be that into Lea, but she's trying really hard and eventually gets Noah to show off his "robot" dance moves. He does so, and while a couple of people clap, the rest look like they might be watching the game. You know, the one on the field, where Justin Masterson gave up only one run in a close 2-1 victory for the Red Sox. But that's irrelevant- this year, the real game isn't on the field!

Despite Noah's apathy, Lea gives it her all, and tries to play Shayna before she shows up for her inning with Noah. Lea explains that Shayna's been talking to one of the "other guys", who apparently knows Shayna from a party in Shayna's "hometown"- and then Lea nods the way an older woman nods when talking about someone else's cheating spouse. She's like the grandma on "Brooklyn Bridge". I love it- and it's the most interesting thing that's going to happen all night.

The next date is Liz and Garth of the douchey sunglasses. Garth is a 31 year old house painter/filmmaker who lives at home with his parents. Just like in Rent! Garth describes himself as quirky AND eccentric- and then Not Lenny Clarke tells us that Garth's not "afraid of the crazy". This is good- you always want to date a guy who won't care about the bags of vomit you hide in your closet. (What? You've never seen Intervention? It's way better than this show.)

Garth admits right away that he met Liz's family and hit on one of her sisters. The sunglasses, they do not lie; Garth may beat out Noah for biggest douchebag of the night! Liz asks Garth about his films, and he has a hard time explaining them. He doesn't seem particularly passionate about his films, instead he says that he would "sell them" as crosses between the Farrelly Brothers and American Beauty. Suddenly they cut to an interview with Liz that was clearly done MUCH later, as she has a completely different hair color- or should I say colors. It's that style where it's really really dark underneath, with incredibly streaky blond highlights? Yeah, I'm not a fan.

Garth is wearing bright red Converse high tops. This may be the only good thing about him, and it's something that one of Liz's brothers really likes. And then ANOTHER of Liz's brothers comes along and there's a lot of "dude!"'s and manly hand clasping and "I'm gonna cast him in my movie!". Garth seems way more interested in Liz's brothers than he is in Liz- see what I mean about the gay subtext? Liz finds out that Garth lives at home with his parents and BAM; we cutaway to the Daters Dugout and Ex-Fatty Lea talking to either Noah's father or some random old guy attending the game. What they're saying to each other might be interesting if we knew who the hell they were- wait- that's a lie. There's no way to make what they're saying interesting. I don't enjoy pointless bullshit small talk when I have to do it- and this is like watching a half hour of the most boring party you've ever been forced to attend, with endless repetitions of "What do you do for a living?" Having more people ask this question doesn't make it more watchable.

Now Liz is playing with Garth's hair, which looks like it hasn't been washed in a week. Because she's a hairdresser, see! Liz (or the production team!) conveniently has a little bottle of hairspray, and after she generously applies it and spikes it up- it's looks even worse. Clearly Garth has his hair long so he can sweep it over his receding hairline- the spiking does not help him at all and is a very different look than the one he's been trying really, really hard to achieve.

Garth finishes the inning with a two point conversion of douchebaggery- he tells her everyone around them hates what she did to his hair, and then he calls her "Jen", which is apparently the name of the younger sister that he was hitting on before. Oh, SNAP! He's out of here. Liz gives the ole "neck chop" gesture to her family, and we're headed to commercial. Every single one of the commercials is more interesting than Sox Appeal.

Noah and Shayna. Finally! I suspect that this is a match made in heaven. Shayna has a weird lisp/valley girl thing going on- and we're covering territory we already forged with Lea, as Noah explains yet again that he's had no long term relationships. Shayna explains that she's an admissions counselor who wants to be a senator, to which Noah responds with expletives, but then assures Shayna he would vote for her.

Shayna described herself as eclectic, and I can see why- she's got over-plucked eyebrows and weirdly dyed fake black hair, but she's wearing a sundress, leggings, and no bra. Noah asks her why he should vote for her, and she's stumped- she has absolutely no clue and claims "not to have thought about it". I had a better political platform when I wanted to be president and I was 9. She blurts out something unintelligible, and is loudly applauded by Noah's family.

Ooh- and now Noah is finding out about the info that Lea dropped earlier- does Shayna know any of Liz's dates? Yes, she does! She was at a "wedding after-party" with one of them, and he picked her up and made her do a keg stand. She doesn't say who, and in fact we never find out which guy she knows, although hints are later dropped that it's Andrew. Way to tie up the only interesting subplot of the evening. I'm also confused- what's a wedding after party? Is Shayna not good enough to be invited to the actual wedding? Both Shayna and Noah "like to party" and that's the end of the date. That was a fucking Algonquin Round Table right there.

We move abruptly on to Liz and Thomas, the former WWE wrestler. He is RIPPED, but looks a little like Shrek, and also still lives with his parents and he's even older than douchebag Garth. On the other hand, I can't give him too much grief about living at home- McMahon pays those guys in Wonder Bread and steroids. Thomas gives Liz a Wally stuffed toy- is that the same one from earlier? Is this a theme, or just terrible product placement?

And we head back to Douchebag Dugout, where Garth tells Shayna that "people must tell her" she looks like Lindsay Lohan, and in the most embarrassing development of the night so far (I KNOW!) Tiffany interjects that she ALSO gets told that she looks like LiLo a lot. Just like, completely tries to pretend that she's involved in the conversation that Shayna and Garth are having, and not being ignored by either them or the production team. I'm embarrassed for her. For the record, neither Shayna nor Tiffany look ANYTHING like Lindsay Lohan, and at this point in the show I fully believe that Garth would hit on Jerry Remy if he were in the vicinity.

Liz is trying to get Thomas to show her a "wrestling character", but he is understandably reluctant as there is no Spanish Announcers table to throw anyone through. He eventually (and really, really eventually- this bit went on way too long) gets one of her brothers to come over to the table and then Thomas puts said brother in a pathetic headlock. Noah (who seems intoxicated) appears out of nowhere to taunt the headlocked brother, and there's the gay subtext again.

Liz peppers Thomas with questions- but seems weirdly uninvolved and unemotional. I can't tell if it's a studied insouciance, or if she's as bored as I am. Thomas asks her if he's her type, and she says "yeah, you're cool", which I guess it's better than "no, you suck", but still. She actually wanted to be on this show, right? She tried out for it? Because it really doesn't seem that way.

Commercial, and now we're going to figure out who picks who. Has it only been 25 minutes? Because it seems like a fucking eternity. Not Lenny Clarke assures us that it's been a great show and he's done a great job. I think the quality of drugs he's on must be better now that he has that Olympia Sports gig. The editors have put together a little package of all of Noah's high fives with his three dates- there are ten of them, and for each one he actually says the words "high five" in this weird voice, which is pretty annoying. Last minute douchebag point to Noah.

Brother and sister solicit the crowd for their opinions, terrorist fist bump, and here we go. Noah picks Tiffany- the first and shortest date of his we saw, and Liz picks Andrew the kiddie counselor. I'm shocked about both picks- I thought Liz might end up going home alone, while I was sure that Noah and Shayna were soul mates.

Not Lenny Clarke tells us that Noah and Liz's parents have invited everyone (all six of the dates) over to their house. Sounds like fun! And we're back at the table with both couples and their Wally dolls and (oh, God) Tiffany's new Pink Hat.

Here's your bonus recap: the Morning After show with Larry Izzo which I am specifically recapping so I can tell you that Noah believes he made an alcohol induced mistake and he should have picked Shayna. Told you. Noah also admits that the production team fed him "beers like crazy", which, if true, is a good call by the production team as the show absolutely needs the contestants to be LESS intelligible. He enjoyed his date with Tiffany, but she never called him back- which wasn't a huge loss, because he ended his day at the game with four phone numbers. Liz enjoyed her date with Andrew, but not enough to ever see or talk to him ever again. And we're done!

This show is weirdly self-hating. It's terribly cast- I'm in no way convinced that these people were the most interesting ones to show up at the auditions and if they were than they need to figure out a better way to get people on the show. Nobody on this episode was particularly attractive or interesting- and the dates lasting only one inning tonight didn't help matters. We can't get past the "introductions" part of the date when that's all there is, and watching it three or four times in 20 minutes does not make for good tv. Plus, they're being infiltrated by the publicity whores- you know the only reason Garth was on the show was to advertise his "film career". The idea that they're at a Sox game doesn't even seem to enter into it anymore, beyond the Wally Dolls and the pink hats. It's just another group of twenty-somethings getting shit-faced and having drunken small talk, and as Tiki has said, it's not even terrible enough to be interesting. At least it was over before "Hole in the Wall" came on.

Or What?

I'm serious. What's going to happen if I don't cough up the $14.95 to make my Red Sox Nation citizenship official by the end of today? Is the MA governor of RSN going to come to my house and take my picture of The Steal off the wall? Is he going to break my Sox mug? Burn my Sox t-shirts? Cancel my DirecTV?

What are they going to do me? Throw me in some Gitmo type cage designed by "Den" Drinkwater? Force me to listen to Tessie non-stop for days? Staple a pink hat to my head? Put Sox Appeal on a never-ending loop? Gel each individual strand of Jacoby Ellsbury's hair? Brush Wally's fur? Feed me only the remnants from Remy's ashtray? Make me fellate Dan Shaughnessy as he reads from The Curse of the Bambino?

OK, that one might break me.

To the gestapo of Red Sox Nation, I say: bring it on.. You're not getting my $14.95. You can take your official citizenship and shove it up Bartolo Colon's ample ass. And I'm not the only one. There are thousands of us who don't need our loyalty validated by some shitty piece of plastic and a discount at the Yawkey Way store. Our loyalty is measured in blood and sweat and tears and nervous breakdowns during games against the Orioles in early May. Our loyalty is measured in what happens ON the field and not off of it. Our loyalty is measured in the amount of games we watched BEFORE 2003 and not the number of games we watched after 2003.Our loyalty is measured by hot stove, not Hot Stove, Cool Music. Our loyalty is measured by the fact that we don't think 14892742 is the number to call to order tickets.

Our loyalty is measured by living and dying on every pitch and every swing.

And no matter how hard you try, you cannot put a price on that.

When Jay met Dan...

You've undoubtedly heard the rumors about Jay Mariotti, late of the Chicago Sun-Times, taking his tough-guy, contrarian, shit-on-your picnic act to Boston. As someone who has rejoiced in seeing the three teams I love win six championships this decade, I can ask with a straight face...haven't we suffered enough? Even uber-douche "Chicken" Hawk Harrelson can't stand Mariotti. Boston's bag-o-douche already overfloweth with the likes of Stearns, Mazz, Halloran, not to mention most of Guest Street, as Buzz bravely documented below. Is there any more shit to stir in this market? What purpose would Mariotti serve that isn't already being filled by someone, at a fraction of the cost? Before I continue, enraptured reader, let me answer the question that is knawing away at you. Yes, there is a name missing from this list. The man who currently occupies the throne that Mariotti would covet if he were to land here. The pink, soft chinned cherry that sits atop the hot-garbage sundae, the CHB himself. There simply isn't enough room in New England (perhaps the eastern time zone) for the amount of smarm and condescension these two Princes of Petulance create. My physics is rusty, but I believe the theory was that if an unstoppable force meets nut-noodling assclown, an angel gets syphillis. And nobody wants that, right?
As you know by her laborious viewing of Sox Appeal, Tiki is a masochist. But 'tis not all bite down hard and go to your happy place with this dame, folks. She can be sadistic, too. She offered me my next assignment- imagine Mariotti and Shank's first meeting upon Jay's arrival as a Boston Mediot (BM, for short). My protestations and whimpers for mercy fell on deaf ears, unfortunately. Alas-

INTERIOR: The Mirage, Las Vegas. December, 2008. Siegfried and Roy prance by, leashed white tiger in tow, and nobody bats an eye. It's Vegas, after all. The clamor of slot machines and chips is upset by a woman screaming and fainting at the sight of a badly sunburned man, clad in only an ill-fitting towel, ambling away from the bar with a pinot grigio in each hand. Before he reaches the elevator, he is stopped by a man sitting mysteriously at a bench...
"Psst...Dan"
"Huh?
"Shaughnessy...over here!"
"No autographs unless you boug-oh...it's you"
"Did you hear? I'm at the Globe now!"
"Cheers..."
"Top of my profession...just like you! That's what you always said, right?"
"Yeah, but here's the thing..."
"My office is next to yours..just imagine, ordering in Chinese, brainstorming midget jokes about Pedroia together..."
"Jay, I work from home most days, and even when I don't.."
"That's OK! They gave me a car, I can shoot over to...where are you again? Watertown?"
"Pfft! Try Newton? And what did you say? They gave you a car?"
"yeah, friggin' Mercedes. Sully said.."
"He's Sully, now?"
"Yeah, sure, lighten up..he said if I can get Fran-coma...get it? Like he's in a coma? Hahahaha..anyway if I can get him to call me a fag, he said the car is paid for 10 times over."
"Hmmph! Francona is not Ozzie Guillen. He's more measured, he really doesn't give us anything..."
"I'll bet I can break him"
"Oh, I doubt that, I've tried..he doesn't even care that Babe Ruth's daughter and Kevin Cash's grandmother were in the same sorority, albeit at different schools. I tried explaining to him that curses work in mysterious ways, and all they need is a spark...but he wanted to talk about how Wakefield has the best ERA-plus he's had since 2002 with Cash catching him? ERA plus what, I wanted to know!"
"Oh...he's one of those" mimics man hammering away at a calculator
"Yeah...look, Jay...I wasn't really consulted on you getting hired...I'm really not sure what kind of articles you are going to write..."
"You know, stir things up...I like to ruffle feathers a little bit. Sometimes, I'll compare a team or a season to pop culture stuff...like in August '05, I said that The White Sox season is going fine so far, but so was The Titanic for a little while, and howdthatworkoutforLeo? Hahahahahaha"
"Wait...you used a movie reference less than ten years old? Are you mad?"
"Well, it's not always that way..after Zambarano punched out Barrett I was all-fat, drunk, and dumb is no way to go through life! Hahahahaha!"
"Stupid!"
"No, it's a good line..."
"It's fat, drunk, and stupid...not dumb!"
"Are you sure?"
"I've seen the movie hundreds of times!"
"Woah, easy! You almost spilled. I concede, I concede...I've only seen Fletch once"
"Fletch!!!! Why, you insouciant...."
"Insouc-a-what? Easy there, princess, I'm from Pittsburgh, not Middle Earth. What's your problem, anyway?"
"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP! I handle the pissing in the corn flakes in this town, not Felger, not Borges, and certainly not a carpetbagger like you!"
"I don't know what to tell you, it's done...I'm here, I signed a big contract, and I intend to honor it...look, i've got an idea...ever seen Fight Club?
"When did it come out?"
"Late nineties, I think..."
"Then no."
"Anyway these two characters have been faking it at support groups for drugs, cancer, and such. Eventually they learn they can't be around each other so they split them up. I say we do the same thing. For example, I get Francona, you get Belichick. I get Pierce, you get Varitek. And so on...think about it! Your workload gets cut in half!"
"Well...I have been burning the 4 p.m. oil a lot lately..."
"Right? It'll be awesome..we will have this town quaking in it's boots, at half the effort! Isn't that the dream?"
"It is...say, Jay, whatever happened to those two characters from Fight Club?"
"Well...there's a lot of boring shit in the middle but in the end they are together! Friends?"
"Friends...let's kick some ass"
"Say fellas, anyone see a bowl of dicks? I'm starving!"
together "Fuck off, Plaschke! Hahahahahaha"

FADE OUT

Sox Appeal Season 2 Ep. 5: Thud

I don't know how to say this.

I don't know what to do.

This week's episode of Sox Appeal was so dull and so inoffensive that recapping it would be like rewriting an instruction manual for a toaster. How do you make "insert bread, remove bread after ejection" interesting? You can't.

I'm going to keep watching the show every week in hopes that some of that hate from last season returns and provides good material. But if it's as dull as it was this week, I just don't know if there's a point to a recap. I know that Pink Hat Hell was born from that awful program but I think this site has the potential to become something bigger. The non-Sox Appeal stuff gets much more traffic than the recaps so clearly, there's an appetite for things like the columns from Buzz and Chico and the Dispatches from Idiot Nation.

So, this is where you come in. Yes, you. And you. What would you like to see more of? What would you like to see this website become? Guide me, my friends.

If you don't, you might just see some Remy/Orsillo slash fiction and I don't think ANYONE wants that.

Especially that one scene where Wally comes in wearing a corset and puts his...