I know it looks bad, but we've all been here before. It seems as though every year the Red Sox' backs are up against one wall or another. I believe they will win Friday, and also Saturday, forcing a Game 5.
How many times can the Graffanino error possibly be shown? I swear, it's video fodder for everyone in the country who misses talking about the "curse", particularly those in and around New Jerk City who can't throw in enough Buckner references. Sorry, Graffanino is no Buckner and that game was no Game 6 of the World Series. It was a game changing play, but Wells still gave up that homer himself, and the Boston bats couldn't produce ONE run in the 4 innings after that. It was a tough loss, that's all.
At least the Yankees lost too. I love it when A-Fraud blows a big play. Talk about anti-clutch!
The Red Sox have the best home record this year, and the White Sox have the best road record. Wakefield has been our best pitcher, and with any other knuckleballer, I think it'll come down to what side of the bed he "Wake"s up on Friday morning.
Hopefully it's the "I'm gonna throw a 2-hitter" side.
It was only Game 1.
It's this time of year that I forgo and kind of usual morning radio show in lieu of WEEI. Everyone can't believe Francona's decision to stick with Clement as long as he did (or Millar for that matter), nor can they see any kind of logic in bringing Arroyo in for the 8th as opposed to the 4th (we saw Bradford instead). Might Francona be thinking that BroYo may get the nod for (a potential) Game 5 and wanted to get him a little work? I'm sure Clement is a nice guy and all, but this IS the postseason, and the Sox can't afford to let buddy-buddyness dictate their series strategy. Why WASN'T Olerud out there? I heard someone rattle of Millar's (good) career statistics against Contreras as a reason. Problem is, that was when Millar could break double digits in homers and reach 51 RBI, and from when Contreras was with the Yankers, who had no idea how to coach him. Contreras is a GOOD pitcher now, and Millar is a SLUMPING hitter. That move I disagree with...stupid.
All of this of course comes close on the heels of questioning the Red Sox ALDS roster, and their choice to keep only 10 pitchers, with Machado essentially taking the place of DiNardo, who would have made 11. Is this an attempt by the management to show the starting pitchers that they have confidence in them? Francona and co. threw the game out when it was 8-2, but still managed to use 1/2 of the bullpen in the process.
I keep telling myself, it was only Game 1. Tonight we win and all is right with the world again.
 For those who still say clutch hitting is a myth, try watching a Red Sox game or two, particularly when they are in a pennant race or a postseason. There's this guy, his name is David, who has a knack of coming up in big situations and producing. He was at it again last night, first slamming an 8th inning homer to tie the game, then tagging a Batista fastball up the middle, just to the left of the shift, knocking in Johnny Damon from 2nd to win the game. Looks like all that directed energy business was at work last night at Fenway... now just 3 to go at Fenway against the Yankers to see if we win the division / go to the playoffs for what would be a club-record 3 years in a row.
I feel like I've seen this before....
Great article by Eric Leskowitz at Boston.com today.
This article comes just in time, too, as we'll need to give the Red Sox all the directed positive energy we can muster this weekend (and hopefully into the next week too).
F the Yankers.
So Mary and I go to Six Flags New England yesterday as part of her birthday weekend. With the exception of the overpriced food ($7 for a slice of cheese pizza), I knew it was going to be a good time; I completely revert to adolescence when it comes to things like amusement parks. The Scrambler, frisbee rides, waterslides, and of course roller coasters...many many roller coasters. In fact there were more there yesterday than I ever remember; something like 7 or 8. We got there and knew we wanted to hit up each one of them.
Things were going well; the weather was perfect and the park wasn't too crowded (thanks to something called "The Big E"). We went on a couple of coasters right away, including "Superman", the biggest and longest coaster in the country, which I had been on but Mary hadn't. Then we move over to one of my favorites, the "Mind Eraser".
Much like the drink by the same name, this coaster has been known to scramble one's brains and cross one's eyes (minus the straw). This coaster has it all...twists, turns, loop-dee-loops, and a whole lotta jerking around and not knowing where the ride will take you next. Even though I'd been on it multiple times, it never gets old and I'm always thrilled. This time, however, I got more of a scare than I bargained for.
You sit down in a seat suspended from above and with your feet dangling, and like any ride that involves high speeds and upside-down sections, there is a pressure-controlled safety harness that comes down over your shoulders. After a very long wait in line, Mary and I hop into our seats, and then one of the attendants made his rounds ensuring everyone was securely "buckled in". This guy gives my harness an extra push, shoving it in one click further than I was able to, giving Mary a small chuckle and me a small reminder that there are certain parts of my body that one shouldn't put too much pressure on. "I don't want you falling out, now." she smiled, and while I appreciated the concern, I definitely scoffed at the idea of that happening...
The ride started, and as soon as we entered the first loop, I heard a "click" and felt the harness release a notch...
My hands grabbed the handles on the harness faster than I could think of what to do. I imagined for a moment the worst case scenario, then thought it must have been that extra push the attendant gave. Maybe he didn't fully get to the next notch?
As we finished the first loop and went into a twist, it happened again: another "click" and another degree of safety gone...
At this point I clamped my legs underneath the seat and thought of all the movie and TV scenes I'd seen of roller coasters gone wrong. The one that stuck out in my mind (don't ask why I remembered THIS at THAT time) was one of the opening scenes from the remake of "House on Haunted Hill" where a roller coaster goes flying of the rail and into the air, sending all the riders to certain death.
I tried to remember if there was another safety measure: a seat belt, metal pin...something. Needless to say, I was as tense as a stone. As the roller coaster ride of my life went on, I tried to come up with a plan in case the harness came loose. Was I to hold onto the handles as best I could? Reach out and try to grab the seat in front of me? Let go and take my chances with the fall?
Finally the ride came to an end. As macho as I may portend to be, I realized I was genuinely scared. That shit was f#!&@ scary.
I told Mary about what just happened to me, and she agreed it would be wise to let someone know. So, after everyone got off and shuffled away down the exit ramp, I pulled one of the attendants aside and in a low voice, so as not to alarm anyone, informed him of what transpired and what seat I was in. As we walked off, I saw that attendant go over and tell the operator, then watched as that operator subsequently told everyone to get off the ride. They spent the next 20 minutes or so examining the seats, then ran the ride once with one of the attendants in the seat in question, guinea-pig stylee (that makes sense!).
As Mary and I walked away from the scene and I related to her more of what I'd just experienced, she turned to me and said the best thing I'd heard all day:
"How bout a ride on the Ferris Wheel?"
 Happy Birthday sweets...I hope you like your gifts.
Nice hoodie!
I thought this interesting enough to post:
ADIOS, or Automatic Distillation of Structure
This raises questions about language, and (very) indirectly, about how one thinks. People have been in search of patterns to how we think about things for centuries; how far away from that are patterns to how we communicate with each other?
Of all of the baseball-related things I've had the pleasure of experiencing first-hand over the years, the 2005 Opening Day Ceremonies at Fenway Park had to be one of the best...right up there with the 99 All-Star Game fanfare (with the last appearance of Ted Williams at Fenway and some mammoth Mark McGuire homers) and games 4 and 5 of last year's ALCS against the New York Chokers, er, Yankers. These guys really know how to do it here, and what we saw there truly lived up to at least my expectations.
Some had to complain, however, as has become the nature of the Boston Sports fan...more specifically the Boston Sports Radio personalities. Granted, the song written by Terry Cashman, "Teddy Ballgame", wasn't exactly the catchiest tune on the planet, but I think most nay-sayers simply missed the point here. Stop complaining...the Sox won the series.
I knew the Red Sox would pull out all the stops for this one. What a treat it was to see the banner raised, Boston sports all-time guys like Orr and Russell throw out the first pitches, and of course the distribution of the rings, particularly the one that went to Johnny Pesky. Standing ovation, no question. Tear in the eye, no doubt.
Other highlights worth mentioning: the uproarious applause and sarcastic standing ovation given to Mariano Rivera upon his introduction. He was cool about it, grinning ear to ear, and even gave a wave to the crowd...Joe Torre also got a loud ovation, though I got the sense it was much more on the genuine side, which was nice. Things are different around here now as far as the hatred of the Yankees is concerened; they have been defeated, in a major way, and it seems as though the fans are now actually allowing for a bit of respect to be shown to at least one of our most hated rivals. The comical highlight of the day came when, during a moment of silence for the recently deceased Dick Raditz, a fan on left field VERY clearly shouted "A-Rod, you SUCK!", a comment heard by apparently 90% of the people there and that led to a round of chuckles and gaffaws.
Oh, then the Sox beat the Yankess...always a great way to start the home season...
Forwarded from a Professor at M.I.T.
Dear President Bush:
Congratulations on your victory over all us non-evangelicals. Actually, we're a bit ticked off here in California, so we're leaving. California will now be its own country, and we're taking all the Blue States with us. In case you are not aware, that includes Hawaii, Oregon, Washington, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois, and all of the Northeast. We spoke to God, and God agrees that this split will be beneficial to almost everybody, and especially to us in the new country of California. In fact, he's so excited, God is going to shift the whole country at 4:30 pm EST this Friday. Therefore, please let everyone know they need to be back in their states by then.
So you get Texas and all the former slave states. We get the Governator, stem cell research and the best beaches. We get Elliot Spitzer. You get Ken Lay. We get the Statue of Liberty. You get OpryLand. We get Intel and Microsoft. You get WorldCom. We get Harvard. You get Ole' Miss. We get 85% of America's venture capital and entrepreneurs. You get all the technological innovation in Alabama. We get about two-thirds of the tax revenue, and you get to make the red states pay their fair share. Since our divorce rate is 22% lower than the Christian Coalition's, we get a bunch of happy families. You get a bunch of single moms to support, and we know how much you like that. Did I mention we produce about 70% of the nation's veggies? But heck, the only greens the Bible-thumpers eat are the pickles on their Big Macs. Oh yeah, another thing, don't plan on serving California wine at your state dinners. From now on it's imported French wine for you. (Ouch, bet that hurts!)
Just so we're clear, the country of California will be pro-choice and anti-war. Speaking of war, we're going to want all Blue States' citizens back from Iraq. If you need people to fight, just ask your evangelicals. They have tons of kids they're willing to send to their deaths for absolutely no purpose. And they don't care if you don't show pictures of their kids' caskets coming home. Anyway, we wish you all the best in the next four years and we hope, really hope, you find those missing weapons of mass destruction. Seriously. Soon.
With the Blue States in hand, the Democrats have firm control of 80% of the country's fresh water, over 90% of our pineapple and lettuce, 92% of all fresh fruit production, 93% of the artichoke production, 95% of America's export quality wines, 90% of all cheese production, 90% of the high tech industry, most of the US low-sulfur coal, all living redwoods, sequoias and condors, all the Ivy and Seven Sister schools, plus Amherst, Stanford, Berkeley, CalTech and MIT. We can live simply but well.
The Red States, on the other hand, now have to cope with 88% of all obese Americans (and their projected health care cost spike), 92% of all US mosquitoes, nearly 100% of all tornadoes, 90% of all hurricanes, 99% of all Southern Baptists, 100% of all Televangelists, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Jones University, Clemson and the University of Georgia...a high price to pay for controlling the presidency. Additionally, 38% of those in the Red states believe Jonah was actually eaten by a whale, 62% believe life is sacred unless we're discussing the death penalty or gun laws, 44% believe that evolution is just a theory, 53% that Saddam Hussein was involved in 9/11 and - most hard to grasp - 61% that Bush is a person of moral conviction.
Sincerely,
California
Who knows if any of the stats are accurate. I love the facetious delivery, though...
Dick Radatz. The Monster.
He's one of the names forever linked to the Red Sox uniform. Though he was given his most recognizable moniker because of his looming stature and blazing fastball, and was even known for a short while as the less acceptable "Creature" on an WEEI show, he never struck me as one with an attitude problem or undesirable disposition in any way. He was a big man with a big smile, and he grew even bigger as he got older, both in size and reputation; I can see how opposing batters may have felt a bit intimidated as they looked out to the mound and saw him. He was one of if not the most successful relievers of his time, a time where stats like "saves" had a different definition. The man had 181 strikeouts as a reliever in 1964. I never saw him play, but I have had the pleasure of listening to his scratchy but cheerful voice as he was a regular on TV postgame shows, local radio shows, and Red Sox related events.
 Many stories and factoids are told of Radatz, and many artcles will undoubtedly be written about him as a result of his untimely death. Here, for what they are worth, are my favorite Radatz factoid and my favorite Raditz-related memory. Mickey Mantle, the Yankee great who is unquestionably one of the greatest all-around ballplayers of all-time, was the man who gave Radatz his ominous nickname, and he had good reason to think of this opposing pitcher this way. For his career, Mantle was 1-66 against Radatz, with 1HR and 44K. Unreal. I guess Radatz had Mantle's number, eh? I remember one afternoon listening to WEEI in the afternoon, and the guests that day included Rico Petricelli, in studio, and Dennis Eckersley via phone. At one point Eck said something about relievers, and I think Radatz in particular, that really pissed off Rico, who promptly challenged Eck to come down to the station to "discuss the matter further". Nobody messes with the Monster, Hall of Fame or not, at least not when his former teammates are around, testament to the quality of both his pitching ability and his character. Everyone in Red Sox nation as well as anyone who knows the game of baseball will miss Dick Radatz. He will always be Fenway's most famous and revered Monster, as far as I'm concerned. RedSox.com ArticleHOF ArticleBoston.com article
My father dug this out from his email archive. It was something he sent to a friend the day after the Sox won the Series.
Buenos Dias
I hope your apartment stuff is going well. As I take a break from my first class this morning, I'm still pinching myself about what happened with the olde towne team this past week. I'd like to share some of my experiences with you.
Saturday, October 16th, as we're leaving the 19 to 8 debacle with the Yankees, Spencer says, "I hate the Red Sox. I hate baseball. I'm sorry you ever taught me to love them."
Dmitri the pizza guy was so excited last Wednesday night, he gave my meal for free. Top of the first, Sox go ahead. Middle of the third, Edwin calls, "Whaoaoao, youfuckhuhwawawa!"
"Hey Edwin, where are you?
"Hey brother, Amascarawcelebrateshithafucknyou!"
"Alright man, be careful, OK?"
"Whassamatta, How come you're not fucknawawawa, huh?"
"Call me back later, Edwin."
Click
Bottom of the sixth, Spencer calls, "Hey, you OK?"
"Everything's cool, what are you doing?"
"I'm at Al's place with a bunch of people. Dad, do you believe this is really happening?
"Not really; I think that's my problem."
"Call you back later."
"Cool. Bye."
Seventh inning stretch, during "God Bless America:"
Sister-in-law Denise calls, "Joe, I admire how you've done this over the years, every day, every night with this team. These past three weeks have been too much for me."
"It's a labor of love Denise."
"Why aren't you with Spence?"
"He invited me to be with him and his pals, but I think I have to do this alone."
"Are you going to be alright?"
"Sure. The pizza is already sliced. No knives necessary."
"Ha ha. bye."
"Bye."
Top of the eighth: Edwin: "Fahooshawooh man! Come on, bawashooma..."
"I have another call, Edwin."
"JOE! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN'?'
"Talking to someone I don't know."
"IT'S EDDY!'
It was Crazy Eddy. When I was a teenager, Eddy lived across the street. He had a great way of dealing with stress. When he became overwhelmed with everything, like a crazy person, he would run up and down the street screaming, "FUCK YOU, FUCK ME, FUCK EVERYBODY!"
"Hey Eddy, thanks for calling. Fuck you."
"FUCK ME? FUCK YOU! FUCK EVERYBODY!"
click.
Middle of the ninth. Edwin: "Are you ready to scrawhoshowasalooga?"
"I promise, when it's over, I will."
click.
As soon as the game was over, I was stunned, as a matter of fact, I still am. I watched all of the post game hoopla until 3:00am. Edwin called twice more, each time more indecipherable than the previous time. Denise called one more time, just to check on my welfare.
2:30am- Spencer:"Dad, I'm on the corner of Boylston and Mass. Ave. I want to share with you just how great this is."
"Thanks, Spence. I really appreciate that."
"Dad?"
"Yeah, Spence?"
"I love you."
Ahhh...what a touching ending. Needless to say watching the Red Sox finally win a World Series was an experience abound with joy and anticipation (I even set up a video camera in the room in which we were watching the game and recorded us watching the ninth inning, just to capture the moment forever...call me geeky, whatever). Shortly after the game I called on Pop, and when he didn't answer I feared the worst: death by elation. Luckily, he called back a few minutes later, and we had a moment. I also had lots of friends calling me that night, and it was great to hear from so many thoroughly jubilant people. The city was electric, and it was a no-brainer that if there was ever a night to hit the city streets and celebrate, it was that night in Boston. Horns a-honkin, hi-fives a-slappin, and a moutain of smiles were had that night, and I just had to call the old man, sleeping or not, to at least sort of be there with me. Baseball, to me, is more than just something my father and I both enjoy; it's the one thing I affiliate most with him and my relationship with him. As happy as I was that night, I was more excited to think of what he was feeling, and suddenly I found myself thinking not of the victory at all, but rather about how lucky I was to have this guy as a parent, and a friend.  So, all the heartfelt stuff aside, here we are at mid-March, in the midst of spring training, and I still haven't completely accepted the outcome of the biggest postseason in Red Sox history. I mean, I know they won, and I've watched the highlight DVDs several times each since then, but in the back of my head it's so surreal it's as if it never happened. It did, though... The Red Sox finally won the World Series.
Ah, the internet. Home to so much connectivity and convenience, so much ability and information. It seems as though everyone I know uses it in one way or another, if only to use email or check the local weather...even my father checks out sports stories, and my mother stays (somewhat) hip to the latest music. The ability to expoit the resources available is not merely limited to us end users, however, and AOL is taking its own advantage of the world wide web's relative childhood and unregulated nature.
AOL announced their new terms of service recently, in which they boldy declare that any information you or I send over AIM or any AIM-compatible service essentially belongs to them, and they can use it any way they want. This includes your "lol"s, your cameraphone pics, audio and video chats, and anything else you send across IM. We might as well grant the USPS the right to open every letter they handle and do what they want with the contents. I see this as a blatant, albeit not yet illegal, invasion of our privacy.
So how do we deal with the AOL eye looking constantly over our shoulders? There seem to be three basic choices: deal with it and don't send sensitive information over IM, encrypt everything you do send, or stop using AIM altogether. I am at a point where I rely on IM as a major means of communication, so I don't want to give it up, and I already employ a "no sensitive information" rule. My favorite client, iChat, has no kind of encryption capability (so far as I know), and some of the other mac-happy clients do not have audio nor video chat capabilities. Ugh...if anyone knows of an easy encryption method for IM, lemme know.
AOL is now more of a bullshit organization than ever. Do we need some new kind of onine legislation? If so, what should it address? In what ways would any new kind of regulation affect us, and what we currently are able to get away with?
Read the story
I came across this in a book I'm reading, and thought it worth archiving somewhere...
From The Mind in the Making by James Harvey Robinson:
We sometimes find ourselves changing our minds without any resistance or heavy emotion, but if we are told we are wrong, we resent the imputation and harden our hearts. We are incredibly heedless in the formation of our beliefs, but find ourselves filled with an illicit passion for them when anyone proposes to rob us of their companionship. It is obviously not the ideas themselves that are dear to us, but our self-esteem which is threatened....The little word "my" is the most important one in human affairs, and properly to reckon with it is the beginning of wisdom. It has the same force whether it is "my" dinner, "my" dog, and "my" house, or "my" father, "my" country, and "my" God. We not only resent the imputation that our watch is wrong, or our car shabby, but that our conception of the canals on Mars, of the pronunciation of "Epictetus", of the medicinal value of salicin, or of the date of Sargon I is subject to revision. We like to continue to believe what we have been accustomed to accept as true, and the resentment aroused when doubt is cast upon any of our assumptions leads us to seek every manner of excuse for clinging to it. The result is that most of our so-called reasoning consists in finding arguments for going on believing as we already do.
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