Saturday, September 25, 2004
OK, I wrote this while watching the Sox/Yankees game tonight. Decided to take a page from East Coast Agony's books. It's mostly about baseball, although there's other stuff sprinkled in there, and hopefully even the baseball will be somewhat interesting to those who aren't particularly into baseball. I started it in the 3rd inning, just because. It's a bit... long.
3rd, A Rod was OUT at third, but called in. I cry. I rant. I gibber and curse and maybe send some extra anger out towards A Rod’s metrosexual highlights. I mean, really. They’re making fun of Bronson's hair? Those things look they came out of a Loreal box.
The announcers (Dave O’Brian and Gary Miller, I think... feel free to email me a correction if I'm wrong) are talking about how utterly different the Red Sox and Yankees bullpens are. The Sox ‘pen is apparently ‘a party’, while the Yanks ‘pen is ‘all business’. Does this adversely affect our playing? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it’s even good for us, I don’t know enough about baseball to say. But I think that I prefer our ragged team of individual heroes over the coldly mechanical stoicism of the Yankees. If winning comes at the price of losing our team’s spirit, I’ll take the loss and keep the team, thanks.
Youkilis and Kapler are both available to play over Yom Kippur which I suppose it a good thing. Big props to Sean Green of the Dodgers, though. It’s the holiest freaking day of the Jewish year, and people are jumping all over the poor guy for refusing to play on Saturday. Would anyone complain if there was a Christmas game and all the Christian players refused to take the field? I think not. It’s not as though
OH FUCK YES MANNY HOMERUN TO RUN HIMSELF IN AND ALSO BELLHORN WHO WAS ON FIRST OH HELL YES TAKE SOME O' THAT MUSSINA!
Sorry. It’s not as though Green is trying to get out of playing, or is taking off for a minor holiday, like Chanukah or Sukkot. Yom Kippur is a big, big deal, and good for him, making the choice to place faith over baseball for one night. I fail to see why people are having such a problem with this.
4th. Millar’s facial hair has taken on a hideous life of its own and must be stopped now, before it takes over the world and destroys all of civilization. Johnny Damon can wear his beard with a certain amount of bearish dignity, but Millar looks like he’s cultivating a severed squirrel tail on his chin. Aaaaand he flies out.
TROT NIXON HOMERUN! I love that sound. You know the one. The sound where all of Fenway leaps to its collective feet, screaming, fists pumping in the air. I swear sound reverberates differently in Fenway. Maybe it’s the Green Monster acting as a barrier to sound waves, sending them rolling back around the park for a second run. Then again, maybe I’m full of shit and just like hearing my team play in their own park.
Ha ha, the announcers show the clip of Cabrera’s winning homerun from Wednesday night. Apparently when Cabrera rounded the plates and was mobbed by the team at home, someone (he suspects Manny) tried to ‘pants’ him. Hee hee hee. Although the announcer keeps saying ‘depants’, which I’m pretty sure is not the accepted term. I love this team.
5th. Ooo, that little update thing just ran along the bottom of the screen. Apparently Ricky Williams is going to have to pay the Dolphins 8.something million for violating his contract and, essentially, screwing the entire offensive half of the team. Small consolation, but I guess the Dolphins will take whatever positive scrap they can get out of Williams’ bizarre and devastating desertion.
Man, I hate the way Sheffield bats. That whole rapid-fire ‘wappita wappita wappita’ thing he has going on with the bat, keeping it in constant motion before the pitch arrives, is really annoying. Apparently it works, at least sometimes (not this at-bat though, heh), but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Bellhorn walks again. Hm. That’ll bring Manny up in a minute, as soon as ESPN decides to stop telling us about the use of instant replay in the Wisconsin game tomorrow. Frelling Badgers or whatever they are. *takes a moment to picture a whole school full of Hufflepuffs*
Wow, Manny’s helmet is filthy. Does he not clean it as a good luck thing, or can they just not get the dirt off? You can barely see the B. LINE DRIVE FOR MANNY, Bellhorn to third, sweeeeet. Ortiz coming up. I do so enjoy the Manny-Ortiz combination in our lineup. Oh well, nothing happened. Would’ve been nice to drive in Bellhorn at least and widen our lead a little.
6th. Took a bathroom break. I came back just in time to see Trot Nixon come loping across the outfield to twist, dive, and catch the ball in a fairly spectacular out. The brim and front of his hat are both white with field paint now. We’re glad you’re back, Trot. We sure are glad.
Bollocks. Run in to score on a sacrifice fly. Bollocks. Game tied up at 3 now. Bollocks. We should’ve gotten in Bellhorn last inning.
Cabrera scoops one up that went down the center line, shoots to first, batter out, and that makes 3. OK. So they tied it up. We’re batting now, it’s not the end of the world. There’s still an awful lot of game left to play.
I hate those new Las Vegas ads. ‘What happens here, stays here.’ So you can have a week of bacchanalia, prodigal spending, sybaritic and fleshly pleasures and it’s all OK! That’s what Vegas is here for, kids! You can break any law you please, because if it happens in Vegas, it stays here. What a moronic ad campaign.
Millar hits one high off the Monster, looks to be a double, then Matsui throws it out of left field and gets Millar out at second. Woah. They just showed the slow-motion replay. Millar was apparently tagged directly on his groin. *waggles eyebrows suggestively* That sucks, get a double taken away from you on your birthday, and get tagged out in the nads to boot.
7th. Cabrera makes another lovely snatch of the ball at short and zips it along to first for the out. I haven’t missed Nomar since I came to school.
Followed by a base hit for Jeter, putting him firmly on first. Meh. Not the the end of the world, not the end of the world. Frelling Jeter. So wrong in so many ways. Is he the one who said he got a sort of masochistic pleasure out of playing in Boston where everyone hates him? Hoo, A Rod pulls one way up but just foul. My heart didn’t stop just then or anything, honest.
Seventh inning stretch. I’ll take the time to put some more detail in the ink drawing I’ve got going of the lamprey dissection we did in this week’s lab. It’s a bit difficult, since I’m working from scrawled notes, a really atrocious pencil sketch, and my own memory. I’ve got the middle bit down OK, but the head end, especially right around the esophageal area is giving me all kinds of issues.
Tom ‘Flash’ Gordon in, pitching for the Yankees. Cabrera gunned down by A Rod from over at third. The announcers think he’s showing off, since he waited so long before grabbing the ball and sending it along.
JOHNNY DAMON SENDS A HOMERUN INTO THE CROWD! SKOW! SHAZAM! BOSTON TAKES THE LEAD, 4-3!
Ah, the flowing locks of Johnny Damon, fanning out behind him as he trots around the bases. It is a happy, happy sight to see.
8th. FUCK. Matsui ties it right back up. BUGGERATION. Pedro closes his eyes in momentary agony. BUGGERATION AGAIN. I DON’T LIKE YOU, MATSUI. I DON’T LIKE YOU ONE BIT.
FUCK. Bernie Williams with a ground-rule double. MORE BUGGERATION.
FUCK. Yankees take the lead 5-4. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. Francona wanders out in his red nightshirt to pull Pedro, who simply stares at the Green Monster, refusing to look round a moment before he absolutely has to. He walks off to cheers from the crowd, who aren’t pleased with Francona’s choice here. We’ll have to see. It may not be wise to put the game in the occasionally palsied hands of Embree right now, but then again Pedro did just give up a few things in rapid succession. Embree has a massive wad of something in his cheek, making him look like a little like a retarded chipmunk.
So long as he doesn’t bring in Kim again, I’m willing to reserve judgement on Francona until the end of the game.
Hup, Embree out and Timlin in. The camera zooms in on the evilly-formed nose of Joe Torre. His Yankees hat overshadows his eyes, making him look some kind of cartoon villain. I mean, honestly. We don’t even need to help his image along any, he looks like that on his own.
Zut. Timlin walks Cairo. Jeter up to bat with runners on first and third. Boos fill the park, as no one likes Jeter and
OH MY GOD BALL GETS AWAY FROM VARITEK SIERRA RUNS FOR HOME VARITEK FLIPS THE BALL TO TIMLIN WHO TAGS HIM OUT AT HOME BY ESSENTIALLY GETTING HIS HAND STEPPED-ON BUT THE DUDE IS OUT phew, thank cats. Bottom of the 8th coming up.
Manny out, Ortiz out. Erk. And there goes Millar. Aargh.
9th. IF THOSE FRELLING TRUCKS OUTSIDE DON’T STOP WITH THE SQUEAKY AIR BRAKES, I AM GOING TO THROW SOMETHING OUT THE WINDOW AT THEM. SOMETHING HEAVY AND DESTRUCTIVE, LIKE A BOWLING BALL OR A LARGE, WEIGHTED KNIFE. I HATE THIS CONSTRUCTION.
Two down in the 9th. C’mon Timmy. Sheffield up. Strike one. Strike two. Both looking. Hoo boy. Crowd is up and cheering. Aargh, line drive base hit. Mneh. Timlin grimaces and mouths the word ‘Damn!’ Only a single, could’ve been a lot worse. Don’t beat yourself up, Timmy, we still need you.
Full count on Matsui, two out, Williams on deck. I begin to hyperventilate. SHIT BALL HIT TO BASE OF THE WALL IN LEFT, MANNY CAN’T DEAL WITH IT HANDILY, SHEFFIELD IN TO SCORE. 6-4, Yankees. Jeter throws his despicable little first up in the air while A Rod claps sycophantically next to him, gazing upwards from underneath his lightly gelled coiffure. Matsui on second. This is NOT happening.
Matsui is really ugly. I can see how people could consider A Rod attractive, if you approach him from a purely aesthetic standpoint and ignore his evilness. But Matsui is just plain ugly. Damon catches a fly to get the Yankees out. OK. Bottom 9. Three runs to win it, boys. Do me proud. Please.
I like the ad for GMC trucks, where they have the crumpled up bits of metal car frames flying through the air and landing in a field. Then they cut to a guy at a drawing board, balling up a sketch and tossing it into an overflowing trash can, which fast-cuts to another piece of scrap metal (analogous to the discarded sketches, see) landing on a pile of twisted steel. Cool. Good job, GMC art department, the Feline Anarchist approves.
Mariano Rivera walks Nixon. Sweet. Kapler in to pinch-run. Varitek up. Can’t breathe. Kind of want something to chew on, other than my fingers, but the sun has been down for a while now and it’s Yom Kippur, so that means no eating. Fingers it is.
FUCK FUCK FUCK VARITEK FLOBBERS IT TO RIVERA, DOUBLE PLAY MADE, TWO OUTS ON THE SOX. The crowd is noticeably subdued. Yeah, well, so am I.
Cabrera dumps it the to right, kicked to the wall by the fielder, he gets a double. Bill Mueller up. Oh lawdy. Bill Mueller has good facial hair. See, Millar, take a look at it. That is an acceptable goatee. That is an attractive goatee. Yours is not. Mueller hits a ball just barely foul along the line, giving me a heart attack.
SHIT and that’s the game. There goes the AL East. Shittocks. What a waste of a Friday night. I guess it’s off to finish that lamprey drawing.
That said, I somehow don't feel as bad about this loss as I did about the losses to the Orioles. I mean, it's the Yankees. This is expected. And I feel like we played a good game, all things considered. They may have played a better game, but we were respectable. The postseason could be OK.
The Michigan/Iowa game tomorrow is at 3:30, which is nice because I had assumed it was at noon. Sweet. Sleep. Maybe even laundry. Although that probably won't get done until Sunday. I know it seems as though Michigan is having a 'rebuilding' year, but I would still like to beat Iowa. I'm watching BYU/Boise State right now, because it was on ESPN after the Sox game. The field is bright blue. It is very disconcerting.
Can I just say that I have the best mother ever? She sends me food packages at school. Clearly I am a lucky, lucky person.
I just glanced down at the lamprey, and it looks a horrible lot like a dissected phallus. Oh dear. Will go try to rectify this unfortunate resemblance with the magic of Excessive Shading. Sorry these have been very sporty posts lately, but I just can't help myself. G'night, kids.