Formerly Felines for Anarchistic Green Democracies

A Bostonian at the University of Michigan.

There will also be discussion of the New England Patriots, Miami Dolphins, and Michigan Wolverines. Probably in that order.

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A Tigers Comedy of Errors
How bad is Keith Foulke really?
Harry Potter and the Boston Red Sox
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8 Days of Jewish Baseball
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Sunday, July 31, 2005  
To the kid I saw on the T holding a folded-up Twins jersey on his way to the game: Just a word of advice-- if you're headed to Fenway, you might want to put the jersey on. Because a folded-up jersey can't have its name or number read, and if said jersey happens to be black and white pinstripes, people are going to think some bad things about you.

But when I finally decided to give you the benefit of the doubt and asked if you were a Twins fan, you said "Yes" and looked terrified, like you thought I was going to beat you up at the thought of a Twins fan venturing into my territory. When I said, "Welcome to Fenway, then," you smiled in such utter relief that I almost fell down on the subway laughing. Man, we don't bite that hard.

Although you did have an Iowa Hawkeyes hat on. I might have had to beat you up a little for that, but I was in a good mood at the time.

To Terry Francona: Changing the lineup 5 minutes before gametime, so that the lineup announced is one way but the team that actually takes the field is another... that may or may not be good for the players, but it is most emphatically not good for the crowd, who are left to wonder in a panic just what the hell happened to a certain player who was announced in the lineup but who is not in evidence. Please do not do that again.

To Gabe Kapler: Welcome back! I hope you enjoyed the standing ovation you got in your first at-bat... we certainly enjoyed giving it. I hope you take to being a backup better than the last guy to wear number 44 did. But I know we don't have to worry about that, because you're Gabe freaking Kapler, and you're probably just happy to be out of Japan. Thanks for coming back and immediately driving up the hotness, Jewishness, and intelligence points of the team.

To the Kosher hot dog stand: Holy cats, I totally did not know you existed. Also, my god, you cook the hot dogs. Like, actually cook them. I wasn't aware that there was a single hot dog anywhere in Fenway that was actually cooked. Bravo for you. I enjoyed consuming your products greatly.

To the people in our row who got up 8 billion times to get more beer: I swear you were not in your seats for more than 3 accumulated innings. Besides the annoyance of having to get up every time you wanted to go or come back, there was the worrying fact that you did not appear to actually see any of the game. What, I ask, is the point? You can drink beer anywhere. Please either drink a moderate amount of beer that necessitates getting up for refills only once or twice, or watch the game at home and give your tickets to someone who actually enjoys baseball.

To the little kids sitting behind us: I'm sure you were cute to some people. But if you blew on the whistle one more time I was going to come up there and punt you down into the bullpen, where you would splatter messily, but where you could not blow on your damn whistle and where you would be in close proximity to Mike Timlin, so the plusses would greatly outweigh the minuses.

To the Notre Dame group who was in attendance today: I have no idea what the hell you were doing out in force at Fenway, but just for the heck of it, fuck you. Fuck you and your pretentious academic standards and your 'too good for any conference' attitude and your fucking Touchdown Jesus.

To John Olerud: When the Bleacher Creatures start high-fiving each other and screaming, "Who needs Manny? We got Olerud!!" you know you've done something truly special. They did, and you did. I think I maybe love you.

To Bret Boone: Don't be confused about what you did to make Fenway boo you whenever your name is announced. It's not anything you did. It's what your brother did. We'll never forgive him for it, and you're just sort of guilty by association.

To the Fenway Park cameraman who gave us a 20 or 30 second prolonged shot of Bill Mueller flexing his ass on the big screen before one of his at-bats: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You are a good human being.

To Bill Mueller: A triple in Fenway is even hotter than your ass.

To the group of sailors a few sections over from us who started the wave late in the game: It's great that you're in the armed forces and are defending our country and all, but that does not give you the right to start the wave at a baseball park. Nothing gives anyone the right to start the wave at a baseball park. It is a Wrongness.

To the umpire who called Adam Stern out at second base: That was a bullshit call and you know it. You were just too stubborn to overturn it.

To David Wells: Wow. That was pretty much complete domination until the very end when you got tired. Wowity wow wow. I wasn't expecting to see that today. Thank you, our battered pitching staff needed to see it.

To Curt Schilling: I know you saw Beth at the fence, because you turned around and gave her a little head-jerk of acknowledgement. Just because she stared at didn't say hi or even wave, it doesn't mean she doesn't like you. In fact, she is one of your biggest fans and defends you violently when we say we're sick of you gabbing or we don't like your political outspokenness or that you are eminently not hot.

Beth just sucks at life, see, and freezes up when faced with people she really likes. I probably would have screamed, "HI CURT!" if I'd been down there, but Beth just stared at you like a deer in headlights. Trust me when I say that this was a sign of extreme affection.

And don't worry, you weren't hallucinating, she actually was wearing a Keith Foulke jersey.

To the old-timer blooper reel: You never get old.

To the guy a few rows in front of us who was singing bits of 'Sweet Caroline' innings after the song had actually finished: Ha ha, you were drunk. But very passionate about your singing, so that's OK.

To Juan Rincon: I don't get it. Bonds and Giambi and Sosa are booed as cheating juicers, but you were actually suspended under the steroid policy, and you can go anywhere with nary a boo. This is why I announced to the entire section that you had been suspended undet the steroids policy, and if you heard any really loud booing or shouts of "Rincon, you JUICAH!" that's why.

To the guys sitting next to us who were quite nice all game and who also booed Rincon mercilessly and loudly once I told them about his suspension: You guys were pretty cool, and you seemed to know a bit about baseball All the screaming for Rincon's head was pretty awesome.

To Tony Graffanino: Thank you for having a nice posterior. Our location in the outfield meant that we were seeeing kind of a lot of it.

To Kyle Lohse: Ha ha, you Lo(h)se.

Great, now I'm afraid that if I got to sleep I'll wake up and there will have been some massive and massively upsetting trade that happened in the night. Trading deadline stress, it'll drive me mad in the end for sure.

Oh and ALSO! Did we all see how, at the end of the game, Kevin Millar was removed from the outfield, Kapler moved over to left, and Stern came in to play right? Did we all see that? Did we all see the Red Sox fielding an outfield that was 2/3rds Jewish? Because I'm not sure the last time that happened in, you know, Major League baseball history.

5:10 AM

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