Monday, December 26, 2005
The story of Chanukah, Red Sox style, Part II: Rise of the Soxxabees
Although the numbers of those who had been seduced by the slithery words of Steinbrennochus were many, there were still some Red Sox who refused his ways, and many who had been turned to Yankeeism found their sympathy with the remaining true Red Sox growing, due to the brutishness of Steinbrennochus’ insistence that all play his type of baseball, and his habit of attempting to violently silence all who refused.
One day a soldier of Steinbrennochus came upon a true and loyal Red Sox priest, who had traveled far (even unto the farthest eastern lands) and seen much in his days, and thus was accorded great wisdom and standing among the Red Sox, and great favor among them as well, although this priest remained always humble and spoke little of his virtuous ways, earning him yet more love from his people. This fine man’s name was Gabatthias Kapler, and verily his robes were tight across his mighty chest.
The soldier, who was sniveling and weak of chin, and soft about the middle, came up to Gabatthias all a-swagger and said to him, “Hark! I am a soldier in the powerful army of King Steinbrennochus, may the gods forever keep his pockets lined, and you can call me Posada. I see from the high socks you wear with your robes that you are a priest of the Red Sox persuasion.”
Gabatthias coldly stared at the soldier Posada. He had no use for pathetic men with oversize-bravados. He wished the annoyance would go on his way and leave him in peace to walk amongst his people and dispense his wisdom and lend a gentle helping hand as needed.
Posada, however, sneered at the Red Sox people and had no respect for their priests. From his pockets he whipped out two rolled-up posters, which he unfurled and attached to the nearest wall. One bore a face thin and ratlike in appearance; the other had a roundish nose and appeared as a drunkard.
“Come now, priest,” Posada jeered, gesturing at the posters. “I have set up idols of the gods Dimaggio and Mantle for you, you should be down on your worthless knees thanking me for bringing True Yankee Baseball History™ to your sad little land. You must make prayer over these icons and sacrifice a promising young minor leaguer to them, the rest of the Red Sox will follow your lead, and the will of Steinbrennochus shall be done.”
But Gabatthias was Red Sox through and through, and he refused to bend knee to Posada or the crude icons, for it was not the Red Sox way to worship these icons, nor to wantonly denude the farm system. When he saw that his demands would not be met, Posada grew angered, and his giant ears flapped ragefully in the wind. Gabatthius took hold of his sturdy bat and with it he beat the shit out of Posada, until the King’s man was lying broken and quite dead upon the ground.
Gabatthius raised his bat into the air and spoke to the Red Sox people, and he said, “Whoever is zealous for the Red Sox, and maintaineth the Red Sox ways, let him (or her) follow me!” The Red Sox people cheered mightily and followed him out of their temples and homes, to secret themselves in a place where they might not be found, namely, the spring training facilities in Florida.
Four teammates of Gabatthius were with him, and he gathered them around. “Teammates,” he said, “I am hurt in the leg, I cannot fight against this Yankee scourge as much as I would like. Fucksticks.”
“Fear not, O wise priest, teammate and friend!” the teammates cried in unison. “For we shall lead the people in the fight against Steinbrennochus and his foul troops, as we are young and unhurt and we shall take your name of Hebrew Hammer, and we shall bastardize it into Hebrew, and we shall take the Hebrew word for ‘hammer’ and bastardize that into ‘Maccabee’, and since we are after all the Boston Red Sox we shall call ourselves the Soxxabees.”
These brave freedom fighters were, as has been said, four in number, and they were known by the names of Varitek, the calm captainly Soxxabee; Wakefield, the eldest and smartest Soxxabee; Ortiz, the most powerful Soxxabee; and Youkilis, young and brash and actually Jewish.
Tomorrow, the Rebellion begins!