three friday afternoon things
1. After my last post, I was walking down 4th Ave in Downtown Seattle and I heard some guy shouting out of a cab to someone on the street. I looked up to see what the guy in the cab was shouting about and, hanging his entire head out of the cab like a golden retriever was Jonathan Papelbon. No clue what he was shouting about, though.
2. Apparently JD Drew was a virgin until he was 26 years old. This explains a lot about fan complaints that he's passionless. Obviously he has a lot of experience keeping his emotions bottled up.
3. Beckett versus Joba tonight! I hope Beckett destroys him and makes his spleen into a hat.
field trip at safeco
Once again, we fail at posting, and we don't even have a good excuse this time! But I did want to drop a quick note to let you all know that I am at least 67% responsible for last night's Christmas in July miracle, a win at Safeco Field.
Apparently, my attendance at a game is the anti-bellwether of the Red Sox home/road splits during the 2008 season. I've seen six games this season, two rare Fenway losses (the game where Lester had to start on three days rest, the frustrating Buccholz return two Fridays ago) and four rare road wins (the two games of the opening series that were played in Oakland, the comedy of errors 15 inning game in Baltimore and last night's game). So even though the Sox had just been swept by the Angels, I had no doubt that they were winning last night.
And, well, the pitching Jon Lester (let's all just forget about that nonsense in the eighth inning, baby crab is a motherfuckin' stopper) didn't hurt either.
P.S. - We ate lunch at a steakhouse on 3rd Ave, and the waitress looked at my shirt and said, "Oh, you just missed one of your players, he was here with his girlfriend." I asked to go find out which player, and she said, "Josh ... Buckett?" Good thing Katie wasn't with me, she might have wept. So I highly recommend Von's Grand City Cafe, they have a 34oz beer that they call a personal pitcher and Josh Beckett eats there.
P.P.S. - Continuing my near-misses with Sox players, I also jaywalked on the same street as Manny. I don't blame him, that entire area is a botched abortion, apparently they don't start running city buses until 90 minutes after the game ends. I actually missed the Green Line!
P.P.P.S. - No time to get caught up on everything we've missed, but -- Papelbon is going to name is baby Megatron, y/y?
trapped in tiny house
Katie has a friend who is -- really and truly, and not to mention bravely, given that she lives in Boston -- a Tampa Bay fan. At Katie's birthday party a couple weeks ago, I was sitting next to her and I said, "I'm really happy for the Rays. Seriously! It's awesome! It must be so great for you guys." And probably a bunch of other stuff. I was kind of drunk. We were at Deep Ellum, and they have this beer that tastes just like gumdrops, and -- but I digress. I really have been happy for the now-reformed Satanists and their suffering fans over the last few months. But that happiness has a limit. And it turns out that I reached my limit during the first inning of last night's game.
Ugh.
81 games
With 81 games in the books and 81 games remaining, many of our fellow Red Sox bloggers have posted mid-season progress reports. Many of these have been well-thought-out and educational. This mid-season report is neither of those things. We are going to grade the Red Sox players' performance based on how we would react if the individual player was on fire.
ranked in order of VORPOF (value over replacement player on fire)
JD Drew, VORPOF = 27.4 If I saw that JD Drew was on fire, I would just assume it had something to do with the Rapture, and that after spending a season suffering for our sins, JD Drew was clearly the second coming of Jesus Christ. Too soon to start calling him JC Drew?
Kevin Youkilis, VORPOF = 24.5 I would be so enraged to see Youk on fire that I would throw my batting helmet in the base path, slam something very large and heavy into the club house wall, and scream loudly in Manny's face in hopes that one of these things would appropriately convey to the world that I was ANGRY.
Manny Ramirez, VORPOF = 24.2 Consult with team to see if there is a "Manny Accidentally Set Himself on Fire While Trying to Juggle Firecrackers with His Kids" protocol. There's got to be, right? Don't you imagine that this happens, like, once a week?
Jon Lester, VORPOF = 23.7 He survived cancer, came back to win the clinching game of the World Series, pitch a no-hitter and emerge as the 2008 first half ace. For him, being set on fire is probably the equivalent of being tickled by your kid brother.
Josh Beckett, VORPOF = 16.8 You know how sometimes guys who want to show that they are total bad-asses will lick their thumb and their index finger and then snuff the flame of a candle that way? I imagine Josh Beckett would do something like that if he was engulfed in flames. Unfortunately, he might then give up a couple homeruns, but the man just single-handedly saved himself from immolation, are you really gonna complain?
Dustin Pedroia, VORPOF = 15.3 Approach cautiously. If this is some kind of behavior modification technique that will help him increase the number of walks he takes, I don't want to interfere.
Jacoby Ellsbury, VORPOF = 14.7 Jacoby is fourth among all rookies in VORPOF (second is Fukudome, and I'm dubious about whether or not he should count) and second among all AL rookies, so maximum effort should be made to assist him if he happens to catch on fire. (Maybe it occurred as a result of his lightening quickness on the base paths?) However, I am pretty sure that Jacoby's 286,598 future wives currently residing in the Boston Metro area (he is Mormon, after all) will sacrifice themselves to save him, so he'll probably be okay.
Mike Lowell, VORPOF = 14.0 Before attempting to put out the fire with the shield of my own body, briefly make sure that the line of succession is in place for the presidency of NHCaPRSFWPNtBiMH218i2010! (The propaganda machine formerly known as NDRaPRSFftEMRSoML).
David Ortiz, VORPOF = 13.9 Is this some sort of wacky holistic treatment to rehabilitate his wrist? At this point, I would be willing to try anything. Get well soon, Papi, get well very, very, very soon.
Tim Wakefield, VORPOF = 13.6 When a dude signs what's essentially a lifetime contract, you gotta figure he knows that eventually they're going to set him on fire, it's just a matter of when. Still, his zen-master old-dude acceptance of his inevitable fate doesn't mean I wouldn't use Craig Hansen's hair to beat out the flames.
Daisuke Matsuzaka, VORPOF = 13.6 Whether or not I would lift a finger to help put out the fire strongly depends on whether or not Daisuke had just taken an at-bat from 0-2 to 3-2.
Sean Casey, VORPOF = 10.2 Keep an eye on the situation, but briefly do nothing, wait around to see who comes to his aid, whether he's really the most likeable player in baseball.
David Aardsma, VORPOF = 10.0 If David Aardsma caught on fire, would one of the local papers finally write something about him? How is it possible that we still do not know anything about him, other than that his last name is a colloquial term for certain male grooming habit. Amalie Benjamin, I know that trying to tame your many flyaways is a full-time job, but can't you see the man is on fire here? What else does he have to do to get you to write a nice, folksy article about him?
Julio Lugo, VORPOF = 9.9 Two words: lighter fluid. And I don't care that, statistically, he is in the top ten among Red Sox position players in VORPOF. Julio Lugo is the one player who turns me into Joe Morgan as far as valuing sabermetrics is concerned. (Katie can't help but add: Julio Lugo's continued presence in this plane of existence makes me want to set myself on fire, so I would actually put the fire out so that I could revive his lifeless body and set him on fire all over again.)
Justin Masterson, VORPOF = 9.7Justin Masterson may have a Major League VORPOF of 9.7, but his VORPOF among players who began the 2008 season in AA ball is something like 262.5. Pretty spiffy.
Hideki Okajima, VORPOF = 8.4 Did you know that Okajima's pitched 33 innings, has given up 33 hits, and has 33 strikeouts? Does that seem creepy to anyone else? Is it possible the flames are a sign that he may have sold his soul to the devil? I mean, how else do you explain his performance last year? Not to mention that creepy song.
Coco Crisp, VORPOF = 7.8 Hmmm ... well. I mean. He's a nice guy, right? And he's batting over 250. Sure he whines a lot, but he rarely has the chance to bunt on the lead-off pitch anymore. Oh, wait, the flames have reached his catching arm. Well, I guess there's no point in doing much of anything, then ....
Jonathan Papelbon, VORPOF = 7.4 Silly, those aren't flames -- that's just a Dunkin' Donuts ad.
Javier Lopez, VORPOF = 7.3 If there's any justice, it's a case of self-immolation over the ridiculousness of his statistical VORPOF compared to his VORPHSBSOF (value over replacement player who should be set on fire), which is a stunning -97.8.
Manny Delcarmen, VORPOF = 6.8 I would put them out. Immediately. Have you seen the small child this man has to live for?
Alex Cora, VORPOF = 2.2 Surely his often-touted genius-level baseball intelligence will get him out of this?
Bartolo Colon, VORPOF = 1.9 He's going through a rough patch at the moment, but I would put out that fire as quick as his delivery to the plate. That's how much I love quick workers.
Jason Varitek, VORPOF = 1.1 No need for alarm. Varitek isn't afraid of fire, fire is afraid of Varitek. Fire is afraid of Varitek the way that I was afraid of his 2 for 27 slump.
Kevin Cash, VORPOF = -0.6 I would assume that he will emerge from the flames like the sword of Excalibur or some such, ready to hit 3-run bombs that land on the Lansdowne Street parking garage. Or any other explanation that makes absolutely no sense.
Clay Buchholz, VORPOF = -1.4 I don't know. The fire is probably just one in the series of mysterious injuries the Sox are using to convince him he could use a little more time in AAA.
Craig Hansen, VORPOF = -3.0 It's gonna be difficult to figure out this particular fire's source of origin. Grease fire starting with his hair? Tragic bong-in-the-bullpen accident?
Mike Timlin, VORPOF = -5.3 Tip my cap and wish him the best of luck pitching for the Styx River Dogs.
but at what point will jerry remy day get me a day off work?
Tonight's game was --
-- the third game in a series of absolute failures in offensive production.
-- possibly, now that JD Drew's inhuman hot streak has cooled off, what this offense is going to look like without David Ortiz.
-- difficult to even recognize as a baseball game, it was so full of Remdawg Day shenanigans, causing my roommate to repeatedly ask, "Do they ever talk about the game?" and "Does he know he's on television right now?"
-- not was I was expecting when everyone said, "No, they're losing Ortiz at the best time possible, when they're going to be tearing through interleague play!
-- the kind of game where I was glad I was only listening from the kitchen while I made black bean enchiladas with from-scratch tortillas.
-- YAY AWESOME DUSTIN PEDROIA YAY MIKE LOWELL YAY VARITEK YAY PAPELBON YAY YAY YAY.
[falls over]
and on eck's mustache day, we rest
Okay, I'm hungover as shit (Katie's birthday party last night, I made her a card with a picture of Josh Beckett that said, "Hope you execute a happy birthday") and the Sox are trying to avoid getting swept by the freakin' CARDINALS, it's time for a live blog!
(I'd like to dedicate this live blog to Uncle Bill, who says we don't post enough any more. If the Sox lose during said live blog, I will take this as a sign that we should post even less.)
pregame
I am saying right now before God Eck's mustache and everyone, I am thinking about Jon Lester, the former Mr. Inconsistent McInconsistency, and what I am thinking is, "Oh great, it's our stopper!" This should be interesting. I reserve the right to come back and delete this if he makes me look like a complete idiot.
rain delay
Jesus Christ. Do they not understand that I planned my entire hangover recovery schedule around this game starting at 1:35?
top of the first
Well, so far so good.
bottom of the first
Joel Piñeiro. Hilarious. Can we set up an exchange student program where we send our mediocre relief pitchers to the National League and we get them back six months later as serviceable back-of-the-rotation starters?
top of the second
Lester getting some very nice looking swings and misses.
bottom of the second
This ump's strike call is ridiculous. Is he calling a baseball game or gunslinging? Also, that graphic that showed Jason Varitek's batting average since May 24 made my eyes bleed. And just like that, he hits into a double play. Great!
top of the third
What the hell is that necklace that Brendan Ryan is wearing? It looks like it belongs on a lady who lunches ... in New Jersey. Meanwhile, Lester pitches around Ryan's fluky automatic double.
bottom of the third
Is this Joel Piñeiro evil twin Kal-El?
top of the fourth
Remy talks about how home/road split statistics make no sense, and there is no explanation for why certain players hit better on the road. Um, park factors? I guess they park factors didn't come up in conversation during the last episode of Sox Appeal.
In non-vitrol related news: That water slide catch that Jacoby Ellsbury made to end the inning is certainly a vote for the theory that the run prevention of the Ellsbury/Crisp/Drew outfield balances out a significant amount of David Ortiz's run production.
bottom of the fourth
Don-O talking about Joel Piñeiro's last complete game shut-out. Kelly wondering whether or not it would be problematic to resort to hair of the dog.
top of the fifth
Coco apparently has something to say about the power of run prevention. Two outs in the inning and I am now officially hoping that the game goes official before the rain starts so that we don't waste this great Lester performance. Lester then strikes out Larue and, oh yes, as I was so presciently saying a couple hours ago, Jon Lester is a motherfucking stopper.
bottom of the fifth
Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. The worst inning yet. On the other hand, I just heard some pretty righteous thunder, so we may not have to watch this pathetic offensive performance for much longer.
Although, that reminds me, on Friday I was at home in Somerville watching the game and it was clearly raining pretty heavily during the duck boat portion of the pre-game and it was not raining in the slightest outside my window. I know Somerville is across the river and all, but I didn't realize it was in a different ecosystem.
top of the sixth
Shit. It all falls apart quickly, starting with back-to-back doubles to lead off the inning, and St. Louis scores twice. A two runs over six innings performance is perfectly good performance, but Lester is probably going to get the our-offense-sucks-goat-balls loss.
bottom of the sixth
Runner on second with two outs, JD Drew at bat. I think, "he could tie the game by going yard," and it doesn't seem completely preposterous. And then JD reminds me that there is still a Nancy lurking inside of him by hitting one right at Joel. Great. This is the worst live blog ever.
top of the seventh
Lester able to bounce back in the seventh. Only makes lack of run support more painful.
bottom of the seventh
YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUK!
top of the eighth
Lester back out for the eighth. Interesting. He gets one hit and one loud out and that's the end of his day. Nice standing ovation. Maybe the crowd could start hitting in the nine hole. This is followed by a really nice performance by Run MDC.
bottom of the eighth
HAH. Ankiel just fell flat on his ass trying to make a catch in center and Coco leads off the inning with a triple. If the Sox squander runner on third and no outs, I will proceed to light myself on fire. Lugo somehow manages to not ground into a double play (you know he wanted to) and the game is tied.
Pedroia gets a two-out hit! Pedroia steals second! JD takes a walk! Manny takes a four-pitch walk! Mike Lowell takes ANOTHER four-pitch walk and the Sox take the lead! I'm not even going to bitch about how they left the bases loaded. This is the best live blog ever!
top of the ninth
Ankiel strikes out so hard on that Papelbon fastball that I thought he was going to fall on his ass again. Molina proceeds to strike out looking. Four pitch walk? DO. NOT. WANT.
And then some other stuff happens that displeases me so much I cannot even talk about it.
bottom of the ninth
More stuff I cannot even talk about.
top of the tenth
Okie sucks briefly, sacks up.
bottom of the tenth
Ellsbury leads off with a double, Pedroia executes a great bunt and gets Ellsbury to third. JD strikes out, eliminating the possibility of a sac fly, and I want to light him on fire. Sean Casey pinch-hits, flies out. Garbage.
top of the eleventh
I love Craig Hansen
bottom of the eleventh
Bases loaded, one out and you can't score? I fucking can't even.
top of the twelfth
Kelly + Craig Hansen 4eva
bottom of the twelfth
Lead off double from Pedroia. Whatever. I refuse to get excited. They will find a way to screw this up, I just know they will. Yep, there we go. Inning ending double play.
top of the thirteenth
Oh great, Javier Lopez. Lopez sucks, predictably, but Drew throws a bullet from right field and Varitek makes a great tag at the plate, and the beat goes on. I've been half-dressed and wanting to go to the grocery store for, like, two hours.
bottom of the thirteenth
YOOOOOOUUUUUK! Youkilis realizes that this scoring on base hits shit is not going to work and hits a two-run homer to win the game. Yes! If I had sat through this entire debacle to watch them lose, I would have stabbed myself in the face! So my face and the Sox tired bullpen both live to fight another day. And I'm not even upset that Lopez vultured another win.
about last night
Since all the other Sox blogs are breaking character and posting about the Celtics, here is my story about the clinching game:
Katie and I watched the game at Mike's in Davis Square. We got there a little early so we could snag a booth before it got crowded. One person who also got there early was a lone Lakers fan (who really, really strongly resembled Jaleel White, we spent the whole game trying to decide if it was actually him) who was wearing a Kobe jersey and loudly talking smack to anyone who would listen. The whole first half, I wanted to start jawing back at him, but Katie wouldn't let me, because it's her job to keep me from getting arrested. As the outcome of the game became more and more inevitable, he started to quiet down (except when he would try to start "Fire Phil!" chants with … himself), and when there were about three minutes to go, when the game was effectively already over, he tore off his jersey and shouted, "FUCK THE LAKERS!" Everybody in the bar cheered. As annoying as he'd been all night, that moment was totally worth it.
And then, you know, the Celtics won the NBA title.
