feliz navidad, motherfuckers!
In which Kelly live-blogs the first Sox/Yankees game of the season:7:05PM: This afternoon, one of my co-workers said, "Big series this weekend, huh?" and I said, "Yeah, I'm worried." And he said, "Why are you worried? We've got Schilling, Beckett and Dice-K, Manny's bat is finally waking up, Coco's laying down the bunt, and--" "No," I said, "I'm worried about my liver." Sox and Yankees, the best rivalry in sports!
7:09PM: Like a good Somerville hipster, I have a Timbuk2 bag. Its panels are strawberry red and leaf green, and Cspan once remarked that it looked like Christmas in Mexico. The Red Sox look the same way in their green jerseys. Olé! I mean, play ball!
7:13PM: Now seems like as good a time as any to quote the Papelblog Official Favorite Passage ™ from The Life You Imagine by Derek Jeter: I'm not going to tell you that as a 26-year-old multimillionaire who still has all of his hair, all of his teeth, and can get dates that I have a perfect life, but it's good. All his teeth! All his hair! All his grapefruit-scented intangibles! It's … good to be Jetes?
7:19PM: Youk is down! I repeat, Youk is down! Clear the benches! Or, uh, he's up! He's jogging to first base! He seems like he's totally fine! God dammit, can you tell that I'm hungering for a brawl? Where's Tavarez when you need him?
7:20PM: First of 1,493 shots tonight of Joe Torre looking like he just caught you banging his daughter. Or, perhaps, A-Rod.
7:24PM: The Reinvention of Slappy McBlue Lips up to bat. Did anyone else notice that fucking huge picture of him flapping his arms like a little girl, taking up the entire top half of the front page of the Globe sports section this morning? Could they not find any pictures of pictures of Manny taking care of business, or Tavarez gesturing like a crazy person, or some beige paint on a beige wall or something? I almost choked on my latte. Not on, Globe, not on.
7:28PM: When Jason Giambi's baseball career is over, I'm very confident that he'll have a promising career as someone named "Bubba."
7:45PM: Yanks have scored their first run, I am starting to feel the effects of drinking alone in the dark. Good times! The PM wanders in, reminds me that she likes to refer to Schill as "Good Old Shoe," ala Wag the Dog.
7:49PM: All things considered, Schill gets through the top of the third with a minimum amount of damage. Now let's see if we can get through the bottom of the inning without a double play.
8:04PM: Time for a
8:07PM: A-Rod solo homerun to the Monster. To his credit, he manages to avoid flapping his arms like he thinks he can fly. No, never mind, screw that guy, no credit for him. If the brave new world outlined here comes to pass, count me out. I'll start following cricket.
8:23PM: Drew, what were you just doing with that easily picked-off attempt on second base? Remy clearly agrees with me, he just said "there must have been a sign that was missed" about 35 times in the next 90 seconds.
8:26PM: OH CAPTAIN COMMA MY CAPTAIN. I get up to find my phone to call Katie, and when I find my phone, it's already ringing. She says, "Dougie can suck it!" As her if she has anything to add to my up-all-night-home-alone live blog spectacular, she says she thinks she forced Posada out of the game with her mind, because she was thinking about our last Sox/Yanks live blog, when she said that he wins the perpetual "Yankee I'd Make Sleep with a Cow" award, except not really, because that would be mean to the cow.
8:44PM: Coco's ass-over-tea kettle leap into the bullpen during the A-Rod homer was briefly hilarious, funniest fucking thing I've seen all week. Then I remembered that A-Rod homered again and, well.
8:58PM: Realize I am absentmindedly humming the Foxwoods "for the wonder of it all!" song under my breath. I watch too much NESN.
9:08PM: Surprised to see Schilling out for the seventh -- he's thrown 95 pitches, figure we will see him get yanked at some point this inning, yes?
9:11PM: But it's three up, three down with two Ks for Schilling, so what the fuck do I know?
9:32PM: So we're through seven, it's still 5-2 Yankees, J.C. Romero is pitching to A-Rod and I had one more beer in the fridge than I thought. My other roommate, Paddy McMurphy, is now watching the game with me, but so far his only contribution to the proceedings has been to laugh with a mixture of nervousness and politeness when I start rambling about how, things didn't seem so good right now, but it's been a close game, and Varitek hit a home run, and the offense is going to explode any minute now, and -- 6-2 Yankees.
9:52PM: Papi did not slide into second base on that double in the bottom of the eighth so much as he crawled? Tripped? Can I get a ruling from the first base ump on the nature of that misstep?
10:02PM: Apparently we scored a run just now. Honestly, I missed it, because the PM just came home. She went out to dinner with two of our friends, but I said I wanted to stay home and watch the game in my pajamas. That's cool, right? And people wonder why she's divorcing me.
10:03PM: Riiiiiiiiiiivera. Somewhere, Paps takes furious notes. Although they did show that clip of Rivera getting a standing ovation during Opening Day 2005.
10:07PM: Okay! 6-4, Sox! Now, let's--
10:08PM: HOLY SHIT COCO!!!1!!!11!!!1!!
10:10PM: 7-6 SOX! I explain to the two friends that the PM brought home with her to watch the end of the game that they were the good luck charm and they cannot leave our apartment until the end of the season.
10:12PM: I start clutching the PM's hand like a drunk wretch, wondering who's going to pitch the ninth. Shot of Papelbon sitting in the dugout, sends me into fits. Martha, one of the friends who came home with the PM, mentions that she broke out "Papelbon = Baby Simba" in a bar last weekend, and it totally killed. We make on the path uuuuuuunwiiiiinding jokes through the end of the eighth.
10:19PM: Now that the PM is home, insults against Jeter are flying fast and furious. Most of them are unprintable, but she she did just us of last season's on-going running joke, the Derek Jeter ass lift. "I paid a LOT of money for this ASS, and you are going to admire it, OKAY?"
10:22PM: Okajima walks Abreu, and Terry Francona really looks like he could use some dip or a glass of wine or something right now.
10:25PM: Every time I see Dice-K in the dugout, Tavarez is touching him. The group discusses this, and visiting good luck charm friend Martha says her father doesn't like Tavarez because he's "shifty." Clearly her father does not realize that 23% of the reason Tavarez exists is to be "shifty." Meanwhile, A-Rod flies out. Fuck yeah.
10:29PM: Okajima strikes out Thompson to end the game! Guess he won't be a hero in the dark anymore! Yes!
posted by always thinking about papelbon @ 10:33 PM
7 Comments:
What an amazing game. "Holy Shit Coco" is right. Who'd've thought Coco and Tek would be the ones to throw spears through the heart of Rivera? A hot, hot, game. And Okajima hasn't given up a hit since opening day.
Seriously! And the unsung hero of that game just might be Tito Francona. Swapping the sea monkey for Cora in the eighth and going with Okajima to close were both key moves.
//Papi did not slide into second base on that double in the bottom of the eighth so much as he crawled? Tripped? Can I get a ruling from the first base ump on the nature of that misstep?//
You know what it looked like to me? It looked like what happens when the chubby kid takes off down the Slip 'n Slide and gets to the dry part at the end. Kinda like that.
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