(The following is the transcript of Red Sox Manager Terry Francona's controversial remarks after the "Iceberg Classic" on November 20th, 2008.)
"Was it "special?" You're asking me if it was "special?" Yeah, it was special. The whole damn season was special.
First, there was the trip to Japan. That was great. Papelbon still doesn't know what day of the week it is. Drew refuses to play now, unless he's facing Japanese pitchers, throwing Japanese baseballs. I can't sleep at night because those Hanshin fans are still chanting and banging in my head 24-7. I stay up all night playing Nintendo Duck Hunt with Timlin and Tavarez. Yep, that's pretty special. But MLB wanted the Red Sox in Japan, so we went to Japan.
Then they send us to play in a football stadium in Los Angeles. 115,000 fans, left field wall 200 feet away. That was special. Manny didn't even play in the game, and he still thinks he's supposed to stand on second base when we're on defense. Crisp and Ellsbury have been running themselves ragged trying to cover the entire outfield all season. Lugo was trying to hit 200 ft. homers, until we finally released him. Theo took the bullet, but I was the one who ordered Lugo's immediate release after he went into the home run trot on that pop-up in Detroit. I was the one who made him exit the field through the Tigers' dugout. We ate about $26 million dollars with that move. We could have signed Darvish for 2009 for that money. Well, after paying the $200 million posting fee. But MLB wanted the Red Sox in L.A., so we went to L.A.
Then we had the World Series. MLB's concerned about "competitive balance." So they tell us we have to use Kevin Cash as our DH. Even though we had released him in May when his OPS+ was a NEGATIVE 102. I still don't understand how you get a negative OPS+ . You'll have to ask James. But, if anyone could have a negative OPS+, it's Cash. So Papi has to move to 1B, and Youk watches the World Series from the bench. Because Youk doesn't have the range to play in a two-man outfield. Cash goes 0 for the series, but we still sweep. I get three free couches out of that deal. A successful end to the season, right?
No, MLB sends us to Antarctica. For the flipping "Iceberg Classic." A game against a team from Korea, in temperatures lower than Cash's OPS+. You ever get frostbite AND sunburn at the same time? Not a pleasant experience. It's the 5th inning, we're playing baseball on a glacier, and I'm wearing 26 layers of clothes. THAT'S when MLB sends a guy to check that I'm wearing the proper uniform. I'll tell you, when I saw that sheet of ice they had us play on, I was about to pull my team off the field. We played that game for the Red Sox Destinations group. NOT for MLB.
Where is MLB going to have us play next, a VOLCANO? Tavarez told me about a game he played in a volcano. Between the molten rock, and the body thetans clustering about, how can you focus on baseball? Yeah, it's been a real special season. That's all I have to say."
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Sox in Japan
(Scene: A small interrogation room under the streets of Tokyo. Red Sox reliever Bryan Corey, secured to a metal chair, sits across a table from a diminutive Japanese man. The man sits with his hands folded on the table, resting next to a small stereo. A pushcart filled with various implements of torture is two feet to Corey's right. A large Japanese man stands next to the cart, gripping a whip with his left hand. Two burly guards stand on either side of the only exit. )
INTERROGATOR: "You will tell me what I want to know."
COREY: (glares, but does not speak)
The large man lifts his right leg, and throws a practice lash against the far wall with his left hand.
A blood-curdling scream is heard from an adjacent room.
INT: "You were not on the roster for the World Series. You pitched fewer than ten innings in the major leagues last season. Yet, you are on the roster now, and were selected to represent the team at Camp Zana. Why?"
COREY:"Bryan Scott Corey. Reliever. Number 30."
The interrogator pulls two earplugs from his pocket, and inserts one in each ear. He presses play on the stereo. Corey is assaulted by the ear-splitting chants of Hanshin Tigers supporters. He cannot cover his ears, as his hands are tied to the chair. He grimaces, and endures the chants for what seems like hours. Intermittent screams and howls of agony are heard from the adjacent room. The interrogator stops the tape, and removes his earplugs.
INT: "Tell me what I want to know. Or you will listen for TEN minutes."
COREY: (does not respond)
INT: "Kevin Cash had an OPS+ of 4 last season. Why is he on the number one team in your major leagues? Why was he brought to Japan? We have been watching him, just as we watched Moe Berg. He has learned nothing."
COREY: (smirks, but does not speak)
A maniacal laugh is heard from the adjacent cell, followed by the wailing of several roosters.
INT: "Very well. (motions towards adjacent cell) Mr. Tavarez will tell us what we want to know."
COREY: "If Tavarez hasn't broken yet, he'll never break."
INT: (smiles) "His interrogation has not yet begun. Mr. Tavarez still believes he is in his hotel room."
COREY: (stares in disbelief, as the interrogator stands to exit the room)
Suddenly, the door swings open, and a smoke bomb ignites. The smoke obscures the entrance of three ninjas, who make quick work of the interrogator, and the three guards. The ninjas are dressed in dark red camouflage, with Red Sox logos visible on their chests. (Available at www.mlb.com/shop/ninja.)
They remove their masks, revealing themselves as Catcher Kevin Cash, Hitting Coach Dave Magadan, and Pitching Coach John Farrell.
CASH: (unties Corey) "How are you, Bryan?"
COREY: "A lot better now." (nods to Magadan and Farrell) "I'm glad we got you guys that $40,000."
CASH:"Let's get out of here. We've got a game to play."
COREY: "What about Julian?"
FARRELL: "Leave him. This way, I don't have to tell him he's the eighth starter in our five-man rotation."
INTERROGATOR: "You will tell me what I want to know."
COREY: (glares, but does not speak)
The large man lifts his right leg, and throws a practice lash against the far wall with his left hand.
A blood-curdling scream is heard from an adjacent room.
INT: "You were not on the roster for the World Series. You pitched fewer than ten innings in the major leagues last season. Yet, you are on the roster now, and were selected to represent the team at Camp Zana. Why?"
COREY:"Bryan Scott Corey. Reliever. Number 30."
The interrogator pulls two earplugs from his pocket, and inserts one in each ear. He presses play on the stereo. Corey is assaulted by the ear-splitting chants of Hanshin Tigers supporters. He cannot cover his ears, as his hands are tied to the chair. He grimaces, and endures the chants for what seems like hours. Intermittent screams and howls of agony are heard from the adjacent room. The interrogator stops the tape, and removes his earplugs.
INT: "Tell me what I want to know. Or you will listen for TEN minutes."
COREY: (does not respond)
INT: "Kevin Cash had an OPS+ of 4 last season. Why is he on the number one team in your major leagues? Why was he brought to Japan? We have been watching him, just as we watched Moe Berg. He has learned nothing."
COREY: (smirks, but does not speak)
A maniacal laugh is heard from the adjacent cell, followed by the wailing of several roosters.
INT: "Very well. (motions towards adjacent cell) Mr. Tavarez will tell us what we want to know."
COREY: "If Tavarez hasn't broken yet, he'll never break."
INT: (smiles) "His interrogation has not yet begun. Mr. Tavarez still believes he is in his hotel room."
COREY: (stares in disbelief, as the interrogator stands to exit the room)
Suddenly, the door swings open, and a smoke bomb ignites. The smoke obscures the entrance of three ninjas, who make quick work of the interrogator, and the three guards. The ninjas are dressed in dark red camouflage, with Red Sox logos visible on their chests. (Available at www.mlb.com/shop/ninja.)
They remove their masks, revealing themselves as Catcher Kevin Cash, Hitting Coach Dave Magadan, and Pitching Coach John Farrell.
CASH: (unties Corey) "How are you, Bryan?"
COREY: "A lot better now." (nods to Magadan and Farrell) "I'm glad we got you guys that $40,000."
CASH:"Let's get out of here. We've got a game to play."
COREY: "What about Julian?"
FARRELL: "Leave him. This way, I don't have to tell him he's the eighth starter in our five-man rotation."
Thursday, March 20, 2008
The Boycott
(The following is an excerpt from "21st Century Global History." "21st Century Global History" was published on October 4th, 2058, and is suitable for Grades 5-8.)
While their exponential growth in popularity was a factor, it was their actions on March 19, 2008 that started the nation on the path to the prosperity we currently enjoy. "The Boycott" was a short-lived dispute over compensation for the Red Sox' coaching staff, which was quickly resolved in favor of the coaches. After this watershed event, the Red Sox began to realize the extent of the power they wielded.
Shortly after "The Boycott", the Red Sox journeyed to Tokyo to meet with the illustrious Japanese ambassador, Doraemon. Over a plate of dorayaki, Jason Varitek and Doraemon crafted "The 'Tek Precepts", the set of principles which have guided all diplomatic interactions for the last fifty years. The momentous meeting between the two was chronicled by author Curtis Schilling in his essay, "The Day Everything Changed." Schilling retired from baseball in May 2008, in order to concentrate on his literary and political careers.
President-Elect John McCain, aware of the Red Sox' increasing influence on the political landscape, chose Schilling as his running mate in the 2008 Presidential Election. The McCain-Schilling ticket, backed by the financial might of Red Sox supporters (See also, "Red Sox Nation."), won the election handily. Schilling was dispatched to The Middle East, where he negotiated a successful resolution to the "Oil War." (See also, "Iraqi Conflict", "War in Iraq.")
McCain and Schilling were elected to serve a second term in 2012, defeating the Democrats' Clinton/Romney ticket by a record margin. McCain and Schilling focused on domestic policy, until March of 2013, when they conceded all political power to Jason Varitek. After McCain's "Concession of Authority", the First Catcher oversaw the series of social and economic reforms that returned the country to its' current prominence.
While First Catcher Varitek guided the country to prosperity, a number of his former Red Sox teammates also played integral roles. Craig Breslow was instrumental in the eradication of global warming. Julian Tavarez and Manny Ramirez made considerable contributions to social policy. Dustin Pedroia...
("21st Century Global History" can be digitally acquired from Amazon.com, or directly from the publisher, Beckett Press.)
While their exponential growth in popularity was a factor, it was their actions on March 19, 2008 that started the nation on the path to the prosperity we currently enjoy. "The Boycott" was a short-lived dispute over compensation for the Red Sox' coaching staff, which was quickly resolved in favor of the coaches. After this watershed event, the Red Sox began to realize the extent of the power they wielded.
Shortly after "The Boycott", the Red Sox journeyed to Tokyo to meet with the illustrious Japanese ambassador, Doraemon. Over a plate of dorayaki, Jason Varitek and Doraemon crafted "The 'Tek Precepts", the set of principles which have guided all diplomatic interactions for the last fifty years. The momentous meeting between the two was chronicled by author Curtis Schilling in his essay, "The Day Everything Changed." Schilling retired from baseball in May 2008, in order to concentrate on his literary and political careers.
President-Elect John McCain, aware of the Red Sox' increasing influence on the political landscape, chose Schilling as his running mate in the 2008 Presidential Election. The McCain-Schilling ticket, backed by the financial might of Red Sox supporters (See also, "Red Sox Nation."), won the election handily. Schilling was dispatched to The Middle East, where he negotiated a successful resolution to the "Oil War." (See also, "Iraqi Conflict", "War in Iraq.")
McCain and Schilling were elected to serve a second term in 2012, defeating the Democrats' Clinton/Romney ticket by a record margin. McCain and Schilling focused on domestic policy, until March of 2013, when they conceded all political power to Jason Varitek. After McCain's "Concession of Authority", the First Catcher oversaw the series of social and economic reforms that returned the country to its' current prominence.
While First Catcher Varitek guided the country to prosperity, a number of his former Red Sox teammates also played integral roles. Craig Breslow was instrumental in the eradication of global warming. Julian Tavarez and Manny Ramirez made considerable contributions to social policy. Dustin Pedroia...
("21st Century Global History" can be digitally acquired from Amazon.com, or directly from the publisher, Beckett Press.)
Friday, March 14, 2008
My Tryout with the Red Sox
(The following post comes from a former minor league catcher who recently had a tryout with the Red Sox. He chooses to remain anonymous. Portions of the post have been edited for clarity.)
I was pretty surprised when Theo Epstein called me in for a tryout. I hadn't drawn interest from any of the other MLB teams after my midseason release last year, and Spring Training is nearly half over. My performance at the plate has been a bit disappointing the last few seasons, but I feel my defense has been markedly improved. I guess Theo must have seen something too, or else he wouldn't have called.
I sat on a bench in the middle of the Red Sox locker room, putting on my shin guards. I didn't recognize anyone, so I watched as the Sox players around me went about their morning routines. Kevin Youkilis sits with a laptop, checking stock prices. Mike Timlin cleans a large shotgun. Hideki Okajima and Daisuke Matsuzaka chat excitedly with one another, as Matsuzaka takes practice swings with a weighted bat. Coco Crisp sits in a corner, ferociously jabbing pins into a small Red Sox doll with the number "46" on it.
I hear a familiar voice call my name. A smiling Jacoby Ellsbury sidles up next to me. Jacoby is a former teammate. We shared many a minor league bus trip together, and I had hoped to run into him.
JE: "What are you doing here?"
Anonymous Catcher: "I've got a tryout today, and I'm just killin' time until then."
JE: "I sit here and just watch these guys all the time. It's part of learning to be a professional."
Closer Jonathan Papelbon saunters by, sporting a transparent Versace shirt. He is wearing batting gloves, and an ill-fitting fedora.
JE: "He wears that shirt every day now. He thinks it's lucky. He only came in 3rd place, so it can't be that lucky."
Josh Beckett slams a batting donut with a bat. The donut narrowly misses a bare-chested Dustin Pedroia. Beckett grimaces, and takes a swig of Slumpbuster. The diminutive second sacker dons a t-shirt immediately.
AC: "He probably could have just told Pedroia to put a shirt on.
JE: "Josh has been pretty moody lately. It might be because he drinks a case of that Slumpbuster stuff every day."
Clay Buchholz enters the room, to a round of applause. He grins, and takes a bow.
JE: "I don't know why he's so cocky. That no-hitter was a long time ago. Plus, he's still a rookie, too."
AC: "Wasn't he linked to some magazine centerfold, or something?"
JE: "Maybe. I don't pay attention to that stuff. I'm just here to play ball."
Suddenly, there is a loud commotion from in front of Doug Mirabelli's oversized locker. Manny Ramirez is emptying the contents of Mirabelli's locker into a pair of large cardboard boxes. It is apparent that he has little regard for the backup catcher's personal property. The animated outfielder motions to reliever Julian Tavarez, who attempts to remove Mirabelli's nameplate with his bare hands.
JE: "I don't even know what those guys are up to."
As Tavarez begins to try to remove the nameplate with his bat, I am called to the field. There are four other catchers trying out. As we walk towards the covered bullpen where the tryout will take place, we see Tim Wakefield taking cuts in a batting cage.
The tryout is rather quick. A RHP, who looks strangely like a 35 yr. old Phil Niekro, throws fifty knuckleballs to each catcher. Pitching coach John Farrell and a mustachioed man stand next to the mound. The pitcher is given instruction, by the mustachioed man, in a language I don't recognize.
After the last catcher has finished, we are gathered in front of Theo Epstein and statistician Bill James. Theo thanks us for our time, and indicates that he will "be in touch." One of the other catchers inquires as to why we didn't get a chance to bat during the tryout. Theo smiles knowingly at James. James is expressionless. Neither responds.
Before returning to the locker room, I stop to tie my spikes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Craig Breslow approach Theo on the pitcher's mound. Breslow is wearing a white lab coat over his uniform.
TE: "He performed as needed. But I still don't understand why he only speaks Polish. The translator raises suspicions."
CB: "Well, I'm still working on the sequencing, but it seems that the pitching is more imp.."
Theo walks away mid-sentence. It is apparent that he has much to do...
I was pretty surprised when Theo Epstein called me in for a tryout. I hadn't drawn interest from any of the other MLB teams after my midseason release last year, and Spring Training is nearly half over. My performance at the plate has been a bit disappointing the last few seasons, but I feel my defense has been markedly improved. I guess Theo must have seen something too, or else he wouldn't have called.
I sat on a bench in the middle of the Red Sox locker room, putting on my shin guards. I didn't recognize anyone, so I watched as the Sox players around me went about their morning routines. Kevin Youkilis sits with a laptop, checking stock prices. Mike Timlin cleans a large shotgun. Hideki Okajima and Daisuke Matsuzaka chat excitedly with one another, as Matsuzaka takes practice swings with a weighted bat. Coco Crisp sits in a corner, ferociously jabbing pins into a small Red Sox doll with the number "46" on it.
I hear a familiar voice call my name. A smiling Jacoby Ellsbury sidles up next to me. Jacoby is a former teammate. We shared many a minor league bus trip together, and I had hoped to run into him.
JE: "What are you doing here?"
Anonymous Catcher: "I've got a tryout today, and I'm just killin' time until then."
JE: "I sit here and just watch these guys all the time. It's part of learning to be a professional."
Closer Jonathan Papelbon saunters by, sporting a transparent Versace shirt. He is wearing batting gloves, and an ill-fitting fedora.
JE: "He wears that shirt every day now. He thinks it's lucky. He only came in 3rd place, so it can't be that lucky."
Josh Beckett slams a batting donut with a bat. The donut narrowly misses a bare-chested Dustin Pedroia. Beckett grimaces, and takes a swig of Slumpbuster. The diminutive second sacker dons a t-shirt immediately.
AC: "He probably could have just told Pedroia to put a shirt on.
JE: "Josh has been pretty moody lately. It might be because he drinks a case of that Slumpbuster stuff every day."
Clay Buchholz enters the room, to a round of applause. He grins, and takes a bow.
JE: "I don't know why he's so cocky. That no-hitter was a long time ago. Plus, he's still a rookie, too."
AC: "Wasn't he linked to some magazine centerfold, or something?"
JE: "Maybe. I don't pay attention to that stuff. I'm just here to play ball."
Suddenly, there is a loud commotion from in front of Doug Mirabelli's oversized locker. Manny Ramirez is emptying the contents of Mirabelli's locker into a pair of large cardboard boxes. It is apparent that he has little regard for the backup catcher's personal property. The animated outfielder motions to reliever Julian Tavarez, who attempts to remove Mirabelli's nameplate with his bare hands.
JE: "I don't even know what those guys are up to."
As Tavarez begins to try to remove the nameplate with his bat, I am called to the field. There are four other catchers trying out. As we walk towards the covered bullpen where the tryout will take place, we see Tim Wakefield taking cuts in a batting cage.
The tryout is rather quick. A RHP, who looks strangely like a 35 yr. old Phil Niekro, throws fifty knuckleballs to each catcher. Pitching coach John Farrell and a mustachioed man stand next to the mound. The pitcher is given instruction, by the mustachioed man, in a language I don't recognize.
After the last catcher has finished, we are gathered in front of Theo Epstein and statistician Bill James. Theo thanks us for our time, and indicates that he will "be in touch." One of the other catchers inquires as to why we didn't get a chance to bat during the tryout. Theo smiles knowingly at James. James is expressionless. Neither responds.
Before returning to the locker room, I stop to tie my spikes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Craig Breslow approach Theo on the pitcher's mound. Breslow is wearing a white lab coat over his uniform.
TE: "He performed as needed. But I still don't understand why he only speaks Polish. The translator raises suspicions."
CB: "Well, I'm still working on the sequencing, but it seems that the pitching is more imp.."
Theo walks away mid-sentence. It is apparent that he has much to do...
Labels:
baseball,
Doug Mirabelli,
Jonathan Papelbon,
Josh Beckett,
Red Sox
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Lugo's Former Parasite Responds
(The following guest post was made in response to Boston Red Sox SS Julio Lugo's recent comments about one of the (alleged) reasons behind his poor season in 2007. The content does not necessarily represent the views of the blog owner(s).)
Initially, I would like to thank the owners of this blog for providing me with a forum to respond to the recent allegations. Before commenting on the aforementioned allegations, however, I would like to request that the word "parasite" be substituted with the more accurate phrase "performance-enhancing organism (PEO)." This terminology better describes the mutually beneficial relationship between the PEO and the host organism.
When Mr. Lugo first met with us in Glasgow, it quickly became apparent that he had done some research on performance-enhancers, and our effects. He knew exactly what he was looking for. Mere hours later, we had an agreement. He paid with a check written to "Cash" that he had won from a teammate in a poker game. The assimilation process was similarly quick, and I took up residence in his stomach. If Mr. Lugo disputes any of these facts, it is obvious that he is misremembering.
Now, you might ask, "How much of an effect can a PEO have from inside a mediocre SS's belly?" A valid question, especially considering that my formative years have been spent enhancing the performances of skiers and footballers. Not to mention the fact that I was attached to a minute section of Mr. Lugo's small intestine.
The greatest benefit is my ability to reduce my host's weight. With me feasting on his innards, Mr. Lugo was able to rid himself of some extra poundage, despite a diet consisting mostly of Ring Dings and Yuengling. He was quicker in the field, and on the basepaths. Though Mr. Lugo disputes this, his bat speed was also much improved. It was his own damn fault that he was always hacking away at bad pitches.
While I was, admittedly, compensated almost as well as Mr. Lugo was, it wasn't exactly an easy experience for me, either. It's hard to put into words what it was like to inhabit Mr. Lugo. But it's probably pretty similar to what it would be like to be Julian Tavarez' roommate. Scary stuff, indeed.
I guess I am just disappointed that Mr. Lugo and I didn't have a more successful season. Well, that, and the part where he ripped me in the press. But I wish nothing but the best for Mr. Lugo. Succeed, or fail, I'll be rooting for him. From my new home in Right Field.
Initially, I would like to thank the owners of this blog for providing me with a forum to respond to the recent allegations. Before commenting on the aforementioned allegations, however, I would like to request that the word "parasite" be substituted with the more accurate phrase "performance-enhancing organism (PEO)." This terminology better describes the mutually beneficial relationship between the PEO and the host organism.
When Mr. Lugo first met with us in Glasgow, it quickly became apparent that he had done some research on performance-enhancers, and our effects. He knew exactly what he was looking for. Mere hours later, we had an agreement. He paid with a check written to "Cash" that he had won from a teammate in a poker game. The assimilation process was similarly quick, and I took up residence in his stomach. If Mr. Lugo disputes any of these facts, it is obvious that he is misremembering.
Now, you might ask, "How much of an effect can a PEO have from inside a mediocre SS's belly?" A valid question, especially considering that my formative years have been spent enhancing the performances of skiers and footballers. Not to mention the fact that I was attached to a minute section of Mr. Lugo's small intestine.
The greatest benefit is my ability to reduce my host's weight. With me feasting on his innards, Mr. Lugo was able to rid himself of some extra poundage, despite a diet consisting mostly of Ring Dings and Yuengling. He was quicker in the field, and on the basepaths. Though Mr. Lugo disputes this, his bat speed was also much improved. It was his own damn fault that he was always hacking away at bad pitches.
While I was, admittedly, compensated almost as well as Mr. Lugo was, it wasn't exactly an easy experience for me, either. It's hard to put into words what it was like to inhabit Mr. Lugo. But it's probably pretty similar to what it would be like to be Julian Tavarez' roommate. Scary stuff, indeed.
I guess I am just disappointed that Mr. Lugo and I didn't have a more successful season. Well, that, and the part where he ripped me in the press. But I wish nothing but the best for Mr. Lugo. Succeed, or fail, I'll be rooting for him. From my new home in Right Field.
Monday, March 3, 2008
America's Best Dance Crew
(The following is an entry from Josh Beckett's personal journal, written on March 3, 2008.)
Sometimes, I'm so good at pitching that I scare myself. Today, I pitched in a "B" game against some random people wearing Twins uniforms, and just dominated them. I was trying some stuff out, and they still only got me for one unearned run in my three innings. (They wouldn't have even have had that run, if Casey had given me a decent throw in the 1st inning. He's no Youk, that's for damn sure.) Schnikes, I'm good. (I picked up "schnikes" from Wake, trying to cut down on the swearing.)
Still a little pissed that Lowell wouldn't let me in the Dance-off. The bastard didn't want to compete with me. I guess I don't blame him. But I got Lowell back when I let Paps wear my lucky Meringue outfit. Unfortunately, not everyone can pull off a lace Versace shirt and ripped, horse-shoed jeans the way I can. As for Pedroia's performance, schnikes! I really worry about that dude sometimes.
Well, that's all for now. Julian and Manny want me to go see "Juno" with them again. (Paps isn't coming this time. I don't want to have to explain everything to him again. Good closer, but not the sharpest tool in the shed.) It's a decent flick. I think Julian and Manny mostly just like it for the music, though. It's a little disturbing when they sing that song together in the dugout. But not as disturbing as a shirtless Pedroia. Schnikes.
Sometimes, I'm so good at pitching that I scare myself. Today, I pitched in a "B" game against some random people wearing Twins uniforms, and just dominated them. I was trying some stuff out, and they still only got me for one unearned run in my three innings. (They wouldn't have even have had that run, if Casey had given me a decent throw in the 1st inning. He's no Youk, that's for damn sure.) Schnikes, I'm good. (I picked up "schnikes" from Wake, trying to cut down on the swearing.)
Still a little pissed that Lowell wouldn't let me in the Dance-off. The bastard didn't want to compete with me. I guess I don't blame him. But I got Lowell back when I let Paps wear my lucky Meringue outfit. Unfortunately, not everyone can pull off a lace Versace shirt and ripped, horse-shoed jeans the way I can. As for Pedroia's performance, schnikes! I really worry about that dude sometimes.
Well, that's all for now. Julian and Manny want me to go see "Juno" with them again. (Paps isn't coming this time. I don't want to have to explain everything to him again. Good closer, but not the sharpest tool in the shed.) It's a decent flick. I think Julian and Manny mostly just like it for the music, though. It's a little disturbing when they sing that song together in the dugout. But not as disturbing as a shirtless Pedroia. Schnikes.
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