Friday, May 27, 2005
Finally updated the links over on the side. Added some more Sox sites that I regularly read, added a couple of Detroit sites (MARIO IMPEMBA HAS A BLOG O GLORIOUS DAY), and stuck up a couple of Wolverine sites. They're all good, check 'em out.
Beth, I don't want to hear it about this. By the time I started doing it they were already down 6-0 (I only missed one inning, ain't that special?), so the usual running-diary-causes-bad-luck thing can't apply. All the bad luck was already in place by the time I got going on it.
I was watching the Tigers game on MLB TV. Jeremy Bonderman was dealing, hitting 96 on the gun, A-Rod up… and my internet stops working. Curious. Annoying. I don’t want to watch Wade Miller get lit up like a lightening rod in an open field, I want to watch Jeremy Bonderman work like, well, a real pitcher. Plus I know that it’s a Red Sox/Yankees series coming up, so I know I’ll be watching that pretty closely, and I wanted to concentrate on the Tigers for a bit.
But fate, or my computer, or some combination of the two has decreed that I shall watch the Red Sox/Blue Jays game, sans internet, and so be it.
We pick up the action, such as it is, in the second inning. It is 6-0, Jays. I don’t know how it happened, and I don’t really want to know.
Gustavo Chacin reminds me in almost every way of a praying mantis. He’s got bug sunglasses and a wide, spreading mandible. His posture, when he brings the ball to an upright position, is distinctly mantis-like, with his torso leaning forward and his arms crooked out strangely. His delivery is mantis-like, with his hand sort of curved into a mantis hook on the back point of his release, sweeping forward in a big mantis-striking arc, with a little dangle on the end. He has a high leg-step thing going on, but it’s jerky and mechanical and, well, it looks as though he’s moving like a mantis would move. He’s ugly enough to be a mantis, for sure.
Jason Varitek singles but the rest of the Sox run screaming from his shiny green mantis claws.
Wade Miller’s delivery is much faster, smoother, and marginally less complicated than Chacin’s. It’s also about a thousand times less effective tonight, which just goes to show that ‘pretty’ gets you jack shit in baseball.
Orlando Hudson (Florida NewYork) is only wearing one sleeve tonight, so one of his arms is dark brown and the other is white. It makes for a fascinating visual when he runs and pumps his arms, for instance, right now as he steals second.
Hillenbrand sort of doubles in FL NY. I say ‘sort of’ because Shea is thrown out at second over his strident objections.
Edgah gets a hit. That’s nice.
JeremI is in for the Sox. That’s Jeremi Gonzalez to the rest of you. I do so enjoy it when our starter goes 2 innings. I’d love to see how Bondy’s doing. Too bad my internet is out.
Wade’s great at sitting in the dugout and stroking his chin, though. Marvelously stoic. I believe he’s found his role for the night: sitting and looking marvelously stoic. Maybe he should be a bench coach.
Mercifully, a quick inning.
I’m not really watching this inning, except to hear Millar talk about hitting himself in the foot. Apparently ‘the guys’ have been ‘ragging’ on him for not wearing a pad in an attempt to be tough, so now he’s wearing one.
Oh look, the ad with the Aflac duck and the mad scientist again. My life, I reflect (as I do every time I view this ad in the hundreds of thousands of times NESN will broadcast it tonight), is now complete.
I wasn’t paying attention, but I think it’s still 7-0. Perhaps Chacin got his wood termite friends to consume the Sox bats. I would believe that.
My mother, in her infinite wisdom, restores the internet. It involves hooking up the doohickey to the pluginator, and rerouting the whatsit to the whangdinger, and thumping the wall, and praying to the Giant Charcoal Gray Sharksfin, which is the actual internet broadcast god. I’m not kidding, it’s a Giant Charcoal Gray Sharksfin.
I check the Tigers score. It is 3-1, Tigers. Everyone has at least one hit except for Carlos Pena, and Bondy has 2 Ks. I quit Safari. Clearly, my not watching the Tigers is good for them.
A 1-2-3 inning for JeremI. His efficiency, compared to that of Wade earlier in the day, makes for a lovely contrast, like watching a political debate between a Harvard student and a Salem State student.
Still, surprise! 7-0.
Haven’t seen Jay Payton in a while, it’s been all Trotter all the time lately. With the lefty pitchers we were expecting to see Jay, though. Jay. JayPay! I'm rambling. I don't particularly care.
Shea kicks a Bellhorn 'hit' (it would've probably been an out if fielded cleanly) and Jay is on to third. My glee at this is muted. Then he scores on a sac fly by Johnny Damon. More muted joy. O BOY WE DONE SCORED ONE RUN WE’RE A-COMIN’ BACK.
I open up Gameday to see the bases loaded with Yankees, Derek Jeter at the plate, one out. I make a small ‘argh’ noise and immediately fear that no matter what happens A-Rod will be up shortly. However, it transpires that A-Rod is batting 5th. I am confused. Why would you have A-Rod batting 5th? I do not know. I am not Joe Torre.
Jeter grounds into a force out and scores one. JeremI makes one out but a strange, strange play sees the ball come shooting out of Millar’s glove into center field. I have no idea what happened, except whatever it is did not result in a second out.
It is time for dinner.
So I miss an inning and two thirds and it is apparently 8-1. Hooray. I notice that we have chased the mantis from the mound, though, and some dude named Walker is pitching. Hello Walker-presumbly-not-Todd. We would like to tee off against you, if it is at all possible.
Well, he strikes out Bellhorn, but that is nothing new.
My cat Izzy comes in to watch the game. “He’s had a good night tonight,” my dad says. “Who, Izzy?” “No, Renteria. He’s got a couple of hits.” Edgah rips another one as we watch.
Fat lot of good that did.
Izzy leaves the room in a cloud of distaste and cat hair (despite the cold weather, he’s shedding his winter coat).
My brother lost his tennis match against arch rivals Marblehead today, and as such is in a foul mood. He kicks me out of the room where I had been watching the game. I retire to the den, which has the biggest TV but is pretty much the only room in the house without internet access. I cannot check the Tigers score. I cannot decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing.
Shawn Wooten is in. “Oh yay!” I say. Haven’t had a chance to see him before. He’s wearing a hockey mask, which had better be a temporary concession to his Canadian location… if he wears that thing all the time someone (‘Tek) is going to need to have some Stern Words with him about how to be a proper Red Sox.
Alan Embree is in. “Oh, no,” I say. It is a preemptive ‘oh no’.
Remy pronounces ESPN phonetically, referring to it as ‘ess-pin’. Embree, shockingly, gets a 1-2-3 inning. The words ‘fat lot of good’ float across my mind again.
Wooten up to bat. He makes an out quickly, before I can get a good look at his swing. So much for my first look at Shawn Wooten. My impression of him for the night will be that goddamn hockey mask.
Kevin Millar has an enormous white shin guard which, on top of his high red sock, looks ridiculous. They must’ve been ragging on him quite hard. A fan touches the ball and he gets a ground-rule double.
Youks is in. May as well, right? Hey, with Wooten up maybe he’s finally not the ‘rookie’ on the team.
Millar wanders off the bag and is picked off at second. Remy makes a ‘mmn mmn mmn’ noise, like he’s shaking his head and muttering.
Despite the infusion of youth into the lineup all of a sudden, it remains 8-1.
The LOOGY is in to pitch. He promptly socks Frank Menechino on the shoulder. I am not particularly clear on why we have our LOOGY pitching to right-handers but then again I am not getting paid to think about these things.
Izzy comes back in. We have a short staring contest, which I win. Izzy remains impassive even in his defeat, and wanders back out to the kitchen. The image of Wade Miller sitting blankly in the dugout drifts across my mind for no particular reason.
Russ Adams looks younger than I do. (He is, allegedly, 5 or so years older.)
Youks falls into the crowd in pursuit of a foul ball and in the process of regaining his feet is cradled lovingly by a fan for a long few seconds. Amy must be so jealous.
*grabs brim of hat, half-tips it*
"Always wear hats."
Bill Mueller and the happy matter of the Bob’s ad makes it marginally better.
Walker-not-Todd throws a ball to the backstop. Then he gets Youks to strike out, which is rare and unpleasant, not entirely unlike the bite of the brown recluse spider.
Bellhorn pops out to end the inning, the game, and the series.
The Toronto Blue Jays have swept the Boston Red Sox.
I only saw the last couple of innings of the Tigers game. In fact, I tuned in pretty much just in time to catch The Farns coming in. Damn did he look good. He was mixing speeds, throwing strikes, and generally dominating the shit out of the game of baseball. Actually, I don't think any runs were scored off of the Tigers bullpen. And Bondy didn't have a terrible outing. It's just this damn anemic offense that's not doing any good.
I did see Pudge get a double, though. That was nice. And it was fun to hear Rod talk about it aftewards.
“That’s when he’s at his best, when he’s trusting his hands, allowing his lower half to do the work for him.”
Rawr. Indeed, Rod, indeed.
So yeah, both my teams got swept, and both are in 4th place in their respective divisions, behind the Surprising Upstarts at Number 1 (Baltimore, ChiSux), the Usual High Seeds at Number 2 (Yanks, Twinkies), and the Excruciatingly Mediocre But Still Better Than Us Teams at Number 3 (BJays, Indians). Surprisingly parallel, actually, come to think of it.
Thank god each division also has a Perennial Cellar Dwellar (DRays, Royals) as well, or I shudder to think of my mental state right now.
Still. AIN'T THIS FUN?