Papelbon pitches simulated game

(originally posted 3/12/07)

Jonathan Papelbon was scheduled to throw a 50 pitch simulated game today. I haven't yet seen any reports on it yet, but I am pretty sure it went something like this:

Jonathan Papelbon enters the Sox clubhouse at 12:30pm. He is wearing a t-shirt, shorts, sneakers, and a fishing hat that appears to have several fishing hooks stuck in it. His lightsaber hangs loosely from his waist. He is gripping a tennis ball in his right hand.

Manager Terry Francona is sitting on a bench near Papelbon's locker. He is focused on the screen of his laptop computer.

JP: We doin' the usual simulated game thing, skip?
TF: Yes. We have much to do.

JP sits down on the bench. He hurls the tennis ball at a concrete wall 30 feet away. He does this 3 times, catching the ball in his left hand as it returns.

JP: One down. Couldn't, you know, get around on my heater.
TF: (hasn't looked up, he is watching a clip of Padres SP Clay Hensley) You had good movement on that 2nd fastball.

JP throws the ball 3 more times.

JP: Another out. Did you see that curve I just threw?
TF: (focused on American Idol clip) It was a hanger. It was extra bases if (Simulated) Coco doesn't get such a good jump.
JP: I was, you know, trying to use my fielders.

Manny Ramirez enters the room. He is wearing a bathrobe and flipflops. Red dreadlocks protrude from the back of his 10 gallon hat. He is carrying a plate of baklava, and appears to be dancing ever so slightly, though no music, or musical apparatus, is apparent.

MR: How are you, Jonathan?
JP: Good, man, real good.
TF: (checking stocks) Manny, we need to do some fielding drills today.
MR: Yes, sir. (ambles away, ducking under the path of a JP heater)

JP throws 4 more pitches, retiring the side.

Doug Mirabelli enters the room. He is wearing a My Little Pony apron and a pink chef's hat.

DM: (to all) Lunch is now served. (to TF) Can I take off this damn hat yet?
TF: (watching a clip of The Simple Life) Not until the meal is complete.

JP starts the 2nd inning, getting the 1st out on a weakly hit ground ball.

Dustin Pedroia enters the room. He is in his full uniform, including spikes. Official game time is now 6 hours away.

DP: (to TF) I'm ready, skip.
TF: (watching batting clip of Indians OF Jason Michaels) Excellent.
Mike Lowell (to DP, from across room): Come over here, double play grounder.
DP: (to TF and JP) He calls me that because I catch a lot of double play grounders.
JP: (to DP) Yes, that's exactly why.

DP walks away, he does not need to duck to avoid JP's 2nd offering.

TF: (watching clip of Ozzie Smith doing flips) Way to work the lower part of the strike zone there.

JP continues to throw, retiring the side in order.

TF continues to surf the net- he is now reading Curt Schilling's blog. He furrows his brow and shakes his head gently. Suddenly, he becomes alert, scanning the room.

TF: I sense a disturbance in the Force.

Pitching coach John Farrell approaches.

JF: (to JP and TF) I've been waiting for you guys on the field- when are we getting this thing started?
JP: (to JF) These are not the Sox you are looking for.
JF: I wonder what Dougie made for lunch today. (walks away)

TF sends a MySpace bulletin.

JP starts the 3rd inning by plunking the simulated batter in the right shoulder.

JP: I was, you know, sending a message. I also want to practice doing that pitching thing that you do, you know, when you got guys on base. You know, just in case.
TF: (watching Beanpot highlights) Good thinking.

JP fires an errant pickoff throw. The ball ricochets off J.D Drew's foot. He clutches his left arm and falls in a heap.

TF glances at J.D. J.D. gets up immediately, rubbing the front of his neck.
TF continues filling in his NCAA bracket.

JP gets the 1st out on a force out. Simulated Dustin Pedroia has trouble getting the ball out of his glove and can't complete the twin killing. He glances at TF, gripping the front of his neck and grimacing.

(Simulated runner on 2nd, 1 out.)

Mike Timlin enters the room. He is dressed for hunting.

MT: (to JP) SB, let's get out of here. Eli and Peyton are waiting for us.
JP: (to TF) Can I go, skip, can I?
TF: (scanning the waiver wire of his Yahoo fantasy hockey league) Yes. That is enough for now.
JP: (jumps to his feet, walks towards exit with MT) Those football guys are coming again? They have no aim at all.
MT: Yep. More ducks for us...