the glass is most decidedly half-empty
Despite all the things that are going wrong with the Red Sox lately (and they are many, although I wouldn't know, exactly, because the shenanigans regarding a certain person with the initials M.A.R. have sent me into a rage-induced media blackout), at least we can add "is the kind of guy who breaks up a no-hitter in the ninth inning" to the legend of Dustin Pedroia, the scrappiest mighty midget to ever play the game of baseball.
At least that's something, right?
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.
