I haven’t posted to this blog in ages, but since I attended a blogger conference, someone subscribed to it (this is my cover blog for two anonymous ones)
So this goes out to you, Germana, my fellow Massholette! I’d plug you, but nobody reads this blog 
Nobody likes losing the upper hand in a relationship, but when it happens you can usually look back on the way you behaved and blame yourself. However, the average Red Sox fan, especially one living here in New York City, has no control over the fact the Yankees regained the upper hand in the rivalry beginning in July of this season.
Bill Simmons always cites the mega extra inning game in early August as the turning point where he knew it wasn’t our season. I suppose I gave up around that same time (and I have the void of blog entries to prove it). I don’t want to be falsely accused of being a fair weather fan. It’s just, when it comes to momentum, it became exceedingly clear the Red Sox were rapidly losing it while the Yanks rapidly gained it. Sure, the 2004 ALCS was a quick turnaround, and I figured as long as we made it to the playoffs (like the ass-backward way we did), we could perform when it mattered.
On another note, I thank my fave Red Sox blog, survivinggrady.com, for providing these gems. “Rooting for the Yankees is like rooting for cancer, communism and a Creed reunion tour.”
“Rooting for the Yankees is like rooting for the Germans to win WWII.”
It was a bit awkward walking around Times Square today in a miniskirt in the unusually warm weather. Escaping the premature hot flash inducing heat that is cranked on auto pilot in my apartment building and seeing Christmas displays in weather that feels like early to mid September.
I have been slacking big time on this blog and at the moment, the hour time limit on the Dunkin Donuts internet usage is bound to run out circa two seconds before I hit the “post” button to publish this entry. So I will quickly upload and share a sad picture snapped on my blackberry when I got trapped in Yankees mayhem downtown the other day.
Times are feckin’ rough right now and I just wanna give the world the feckin’ fingah and tell everyone to go feck themselves, so instead of bitchin’ an whinin’ I’ll share a fun video that does justice to the glory of the word F*&k, particularly as used in Southie.
0.5 Bitches. We’ve bounced back from the downward spiral. For now. And they just had to place that rainday makeup versus the A’s during y’alls red hot 8 game winning streak huh? Pesky half game….
Thought I’d share some gems of Sox and Yanks fans doing their thing.
I gotta give New Yorkers credit. Like most Bostonians, their asshole tendencies can and will victimize you sometimes. (See Below)
Have you ever heard of anyone who likes Manhattan clam chowder?….Yeah…me neither.
That is my attempt at putting an original spin on the obligatory reaction to David Ortiz’ steroid scandal. No Spanish-speaking friends were contacted to verify the accuracy of this crappy blog title. Funny when these things happen how everybody tries to one-up each other’s clever facebook statii (or is it statuses?) Everyone does that “Oh, say it Ain’t So, Ortiz” line, or something kinda flat and generic like “Anyone who idolizes baseball players these days is setting themselves up for disappointment.” I gotta admit, these revelations just don’t phase me anymore. To be even more offensive, it’s kinda like how people reacted to Virgina Tech versus the hysteria after Columbine. We’ve just grown immune. And it’s NOT because I’m a Sox fan and in denial that it’s our turn to have our current and former stars martyred. Yeah, so more Yankees players got thrown under the bus a few years back than Red Sox affiliated players. Yankees players suffered the brunt of the steroid scandal before it became passe. So Yankees fans…..don’t bitch that we’re not catching enough heat over Manny and Ortiz. Bitch that the general public outside the New York market just isn’t phased by it anymore and you guys just look idiots harping over the fact it’s close to home for us now, too.
Yanks are very likely to lose shortly…..
but you never know considering the White Sox’ 6 run 2nd, and the Red Sox are warming up with a run in the 1st and Martinez making his big debut. Now I have to set about finding someone to watch the game with at a public venue, lest settle for my freeloaded MLB Gameday Audio subscription.
I miss NESN, but not a whole hell of a lot, to be honest. I only miss it because not nearly enough Red Sox games air on ESPN, TBS etc…. which is why I’m looking forward to our four game series versus the Yankees next week. I figure if we can roll over and die, or choke a fat one against mediocre teams like the A’s, the task of facing the Yanks for four full games is less daunting than exciting. Any L’s we drop will be justified, as we’ll be facing our most challenging opponent, although maintaining the streak in the rivalry for at least the first game or two wouldn’t kill me.
Other aspiring and more established writers won’t stop bugging me about how useful Twitter is. I can’t really say I agree. As far as I’m concerned, Twitter’s nothing more than a glorified RSS feed of shameless self-promotion and I’m not that eager to participate. I also admit I don’t like doing the whole 160 character play-by-play of my life, my reactions to the games, and so on. It’s a better platform for my purposes than facebook, but I still haven’t come around.
I always relish being that asshole at the bar who cheers when the Sox do something good. In fact, I prefer going to bars that don’t advertise themselves as “Boston bars.”
I have become a bar fly at a popular place down the street called Landsdowne Road (free advertising alert!) Not only are they one of the few go-to places that have NESN around here, but they have a good balance between offering cheap beer specials and typically bad-for-your-cholesterol-level pub food, while maintaining a clean environment that doesn’t smell like dead rats rotting behind nooks and crannies like certain Boston bars I used to work at…. I may have indulged in 25 cent wings (hot I might add) all by myself during Monday night Sox games (that’s the only night wings are THAT cheap). And I think I’ve developed a rep with the staff as “that random girl who comes in for Red Sox games and seems like kind of a loser, but tips well.” What I like most about the place aside from my sports and binge-eating/drinking needs is that they play old school music videos and have a cool, albeit slightly useless ice bar to rest your beers on. Unlike Joshua Tree in Murray Hill, who plays similar music videos to a packed-to-capacity crowd of Jersey toolbags, Landsdowne is never overrun with random amateurs. Just local sports fans and a decent chunk of Yuppies during Happy Hour, the only time I consider it too busy (but it usually winds down by first pitch).
All these trades are starting to make my head spin. Every time I stop channel surfing to briefly check out a random NL game, or even see previews for a matchup on ESPN, another player is on a new team. Like Derek Lowe, who is now a Brave. Adam Laroche is Gone in 60 Seconds (a day or two after MLB.com runs a fluffy story about how well he was adapting in Boston), Kotsay is suddenly a member of the Sox who benefit from bleach and most importantly, we landed Martinez in a promising last minute trade everyone was hoping for. And oh yeah, we held on to Bucholz in the process.
Yesterday, I was reminded of Alyssa Milano’s baseball blog, which I checked out ages ago, during the off-season. When she released her book about baseball, I received a mailing from my neighborhood bookstore about signings she had in Brooklyn and Downtown Manhattan. I can’t say I love the blog, but I can see why she keeps scoring all those ballplayers! She’s got just the right combination smoking hot yet girl-next-door-esque looks, combined with genuine enthusiasm for the game. She’s not a bottomless well of baseball knowledge, or an exceedingly strong writer (she could afford to speckle in a little humor), but I give her kudos for carving out another persona. Of course, she has to say flattering things about the guys, unless, like Manny, they are caught doping, whereas I, a still-nobody, feel more free to run my mouth on players. I can’t help wondering who her audience is. Fellow female baseball enthusiasts like myself? Men who would never read the blog if she weren’t eight times hotter than the hottest girl they’ve ever banged? Die-hard Charmed fans? I’m under no illusions that my baseball knowledge is only superior by female standards. I won’t pretend that the strength of my blog lies in staying on top of the minutiae and giving you hot tips on who you should trade in your fantasy league. I appeal to the human interest side, as one might expect from a broad. I’m a casual fan who doesn’t feel the need to analyze every little detail. But I’m gonna quickly toot my own horn. I think my blog’s a wee bit better than Milano’s. Rebuttals apprehensively welcomed.
One more thing, while I’m in this confident self-aggrandizing mood. As a follow up to my Fantasy entry the other day, where I expressed my realization that men’s obsession over fantasy teams has way more to do with pride than the financial wins and losses, a male friend explicitly admitted the pride is why he exerts so much time and energy on his team. We’re talking hours a day, and the best case scenario for him is walking with about $170 come season’s end. Break that down hourly, and it’s a hell of a lot below minimum wage. You could even call it slavery or indentured servitude. Or if my friend doesn’t place in the league, he’s out $25, meaning that he payed money to work a bunch of free hours. I definitely don’t see this as sufficient incentive to root for individual players over your team just cause they’re in your league.
Football always steals attention from baseball as it is, but I was sadenned to see multiple friends blatantly admit via their facebook feeds that they are giving up on the Sox and investing their hopes in Brady and the Pats. We have been the frontrunners almost all season and it’s hardly time to throw in the towel. Besides, we are still experiencing multiple thunderstorms and stifling humidity on a daily basis.Prime baseball weather. Til there’s a nip in the air and an 8 pound turkey in the oven, I refuse to think about football.Besides, certain Page 2 columnists have mentioned their doubts about Brady coming back in full form now that he’s a Deisel jean-wearing, fake tanning Eurotrash jet-setter/model.
One thing I’ve always given the DJ at Yankee Stadium credit for is playing more club bangin’ hits than Fenway, where white trash classic rock dominates. However, now that I’ve been to several consecutive Yankees home games and heard Pitbull’s latest every single Melky Cabrera at bat, I am officially sick of it.
