A Good, Good Day

So today, despite my exhaustion from the amazing weekend, I trudged my way into work in the attempts to show the exuberance that should've been glowing from my skin. Unfortunately on Saturday night, I had the stupidity to mix my regular wine with shots at a Halloween party we attended. I lost all conscious thought when I took a jager shot and almost puked everywhere. Then I woke up. Sunday was bittersweet. Thankfully, no GOOD NFL games were on because I was too busy recuperating so I would be ready for the Sox/Rox finale.

I decked myself out in my Sox gear and headed to Nick and Di's for the Red Sox official claim as the 2007 WORLD CHAMPS! Whooooooop! I would post pics but our computer has been under repair for two freaking days and I'm not sure of its capabilities.

However, this morning, I walked into work and hugged my fellow Sox fans. No words needed to be spoken. Yet when someone asked me how I was today, I just smiled tiredly and uttered, "It's a good, good day."

How can I not be elated? How can I not be smiling to myself? Not only did the Sox rip the Rox to shreds but in the same freaking day that they took the championship, the Pats kicked the living shit out of the 'Skins (who by the way, talked some nasty trash last week and are now forced to eat their own stink) AND then we hear that A-Rod opted out of his contract. Can we all hear the sweet sound of the Evil Empire crumbling around Steinbrenner, his check book and his sadistic spawn? Yep. Sounds really fucking good, doesn't it?

Rodriguez's filthy cheating ass better not be thinking of our team. Lowell, our MVP, is not only more than enough but he's a bit more ... ahem ... moral for my tastes. Who the fuck cares how many HR's he hits per year? I'd rather have a good group of guys band together and play honestly and then take the whole she-bang. Exactly like it happened this year.

Let's Do This!

My prediction: Sox take it in 6.

JD's predicting a Sox sweep.

We're safe

Hi All,

I know that Scott posted our safety (and his selflessness) on his blog but I wanted to post some pics from around our house to show you that we are currently in no danger.

This is our street, facing east:

Our street facing west:

Marlborough Avenue, facing north. If you look in the distance you can see the haziness of smoke in this one, but notice that it is a bit away from us.

World Series Bound

Before I begin my World Series post (this will NOT be an angry diatribe), I wanted to first let everyone know that despite the many brush fires in the SoCal area, Scott and I are currently not near them. However, because of the high winds, we are getting a bit of smoke blown through the neighborhood, but currenly nothing to be of concern.

I also wanted to congratulate Brian and Brendan for being at a very exciting game last night! I bet you guys had a blast!

That being said, I'm breaking down my thoughts last night as the game was on. All posted times are Pacific time. Beware, this post will be long!

5:07 pm
The butterflies have been in my stomach all day but they've suddenly fluttered into my throat and I'm choking on them. The mere mention of Westbrook's name in the pregame almost makes me vomit in my mouth. Almost.

5:23 pm
Kevin Millar rocks! I think I'm in love.

5:24 pm
Game starts and I'm overwhelmed with hatred for Grady Sizemore even though he only pops out with a broken bat blooper.

5:42 pm
1-0 Sox. 1st inning. Me in heaven.

5:51 pm
Does anyone else think that Dice-K's moustache and beard looks like it's been glued on? Mike Lowell just nailed a line drive, then stole Lugo's ball AND snagged a routine grounder for the third out. He's such a fucking stud. Did anyone know that Lowell speaks Japanese? STUD.

6:00 pm
I love Jacoby Ellsbury too. I don't care if he looks like a 12-year-old boy. I can be his Sugar Momma.

6:18 pm
Sizemore strikes out after Blake's basehit and stolen base. Again, over the moon.

6:36 pm
Random 4th inning thought: does anyone actually think Casey Blake has the "best beard in baseball"? Whatever. Dice-K just made a great play at first - ball trounced off the top of his glove - he stays with it and still gets Martinez at first. Another random thought - the ump, when announcing a strike, actually sounds like he speaks Japanese. Coincidence? I think not.

6:43 pm
The ball left Garko's bat and I thought it was out of here. Thank whoever for the Green Monstah.

7:11 pm
Sizemore hit a sac fly. 3-2 Boston. The fucking butterflies are choking me again.

7:36 pm
One run game and Okajima just shut down the Tribe. At first I was really apprehensive but the camera just panned to Beckett warming in the bullpen and a warm oozie feeling overtook me. Current mood: anxiously calm.

7:49 pm
Lugo calls for Manny's ball and misses it. I again feel the vomit rise in my throat, overtaking the stupid butterflies. Even that simple fly ball was something Manny could've handled.

8:02 pm
Pedroia jacks a 2-run homer over the Monstah and I think I cheered so loud I woke my deaf neighbor up. Over the fucking moon. 5-2 Boston.

8:16 pm
Jonny Papelbon's stare - the one with the eyes glaring from beneath the brim of his hat - is debilitatingly hot!

8:27 pm
Lowell doubles. STUD. Drew singles and I'm beside myself. Holy shit, where did he come from? Worthy of 15 mil? Not yet, but I'll take it.

8:46 pm
Youk and Scott bear an unsettling resemblance. Youk just homered and yes, the hubby got some lovins last night.

8:54 pm
Ellsbury has floated to left, Crispie in center. Leadoff hit to left but the next hitter lines a drop ball into left to Jacoby who dives and shows us why he's here. Crispie tracks one down in center....AND WE'RE WORLD SERIES BOUND!!!!!!! Final score 11-2. Whoooooooooooooooooo! Whooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!! And Brendan, we really were looking for you in the crowd!!!!

I took pics of last night as well. I'll post those at some point in time today!!!!

Night of Answered Prayers

Alas, some of the miracles I was requesting from the Sox came true last night. JD Drew stepped up and actually earned some of his paycheck. Francona kept Crispie warming the bench and Ellsbury had a nice ribbie. Yet the big story of the night, with the giant exception of Drew's first inning grand slam, was Schilling. Not to mention Gag-Me, who actually managed a 3-out inning. Unbelievable. Unfortunately, that still doesn't make me like him.

Game 7 and I'm focused not to mention highly anxious. I don't have any fingernails left to chew and I've already munched my cuticles off. Can our boys pull it off? Only time, and solid playing, will tell.

Breakdown of Time

Inspired by espn.com's Sports Guy, I thought I'd breakdown my time. So here goes!

Thursday, Oct 18

5:31 pm PST
Youkilis homers. I'm over the moon and bomb over to my fellow Sox fan's cube, while wearing my shitkicker boots (which by the way make a fabulous stomping noise while running with purpose) only to find that said fan has already left for the bar. Boo on him, YAY on Youk!

1-0 Sox.

5:41 pm PST
Grady Sizemore scores and it pisses me off. Tie game.

5:46 pm-6:10 pm
Driving home and I'm pissed because I cannot get the game on radio. I keep trying as if one of the stations will miraculously pick up the game. Once it finally dawns on me that I'm out of luck, I play one of Evanescence's more hard-core songs and rock out while driving to the local Von's for some vino.

6:15-6:30 pm
I rush home, change quickly for kickball and pour some wine in a plastic bottle. My heart is at home though. I want to be watching this freaking game, despite my confidence in Becks, and it shows. I sucked at kickball tonight and I had no qualms with pulling a Manny and asking "Who really gives a fuck?" Sad but true.

6:45-7:30 pm
Kickball. The ump is a Yankee fan but with the loss of Torre, he and I are oddly bonding. Weird.

7:35 pm
Scott's friend Ed suggests that the game is over when I say I want to go home to watch the end. I scoff and wisely declare that the game has at least another hour. I am very, very wise. We arrive home at 7:50pm, I walk the dogs and the game isn't over until after 9 PST. I call Ed and rub it in.

8:32 pm
Still up on the Indians but the cameraman flashes to Gagne sitting in the pen and I have an epileptic seizure.

9 something PM
I dance around like a little kid. And then I ask myself if I should take my anxiety pills now, or just wait until Game 6...two more days.....Schill.......

10:45 pm
And 10 glasses of wine later. Still not calm. Still not confident, but I do like that this is going to Fenway. Currently focused on Game 6. One game at a time. If only Beckett was Superman. If only Manny would run when he should. If only JD Drew actually earned his 15 million per year. If only Coco Crisp had something unique, with the exception of his name.....if only Francona would play the very-hungry Ellsbury.....and if he doesn't, perhaps Epstein will consider Torre for our future.

The Uphill Climb

We pretty much had a feeling that Becks wouldn't fail us. Thus why I was so adamant that he should've played on 3 days rest. Solid performance by Becks...but we won't mention Manny's aloofness. I just can't handle it right now. One game at a time.

So now my hopes are on Schill. Let's see if the Sox blood that stained his sock in 2004 also stains his soul.

Old Faithful

Before I enter into one of my diatribes, and trust me, that's where this post is headed, I first wanted to wish my little sis a very happy birthday. So Critty, on this 17th day of October 2007, I hope that everyone caters to your wishes and of course, I hope that you have mind-blowing sex later. Happy birthday!

Now that the pleasantries are over, let's discuss what I'm now referring to as Black Tuesday. Black, black Tuesday. And Black Monday. And Black Saturday. I think I'm swimming in an abyss of blackness. I really, really want to dig down deep into the ever-widening pit in my stomach and pull out some faith. Yet what I want and what I can do are two different things.

In the same spirit of my earlier post that resulted in a comment war, have we fallen back into the Sox of old, the Sox who always failed us when we needed it most, the Sox that would find ways to blow a 10 run lead in the ninth, those same Sox who evaded the glory of being World Champs for 86 years? Why would you play Wakefield when your ace pitch has a history of pitching well off of a few days rest? Why wouldn't you want your ace to pitch 3 out of the 7 games? I understand that you'd want to use him against the Rockies but the here's the schtick: YOU HAVE TO GET TO THE SERIES FIRST. I don't care if his back hurts. I don't care if he has a few blisters. I don't care if he has an ass cramp.

Let's talk about another issue I'm having: the disappearance of our bats. It appears that the only people capable of putting up some runs are the usual bash boys, Ortiz and Ramirez. Yes, last night (BLACK BLACK NIGHT) Youkilis contributed and prior to that on BLACK MONDAY Varitek knocked one out, but where is the offense from Pedroia, Crisp and Drew? Why, oh why, would anyone think it's a good idea to put Ellsbury on the bench when Crisp and Drew's bats have been deafeningly quiet?

I've spent a majority of the day focusing on the fact that Beckett is on the mound tomorrow and thus, hoping....no praying...that Thursday will not be painted black as well. I'm focusing on returning to Fenway. I'm focusing on Schill pulling out his renown competitive nature and shutting down the Tribe on his turf. I'm focusing on Francona making a few good decisions: sitting Dice-K, playing Ellsbury and using Beckett in Game 7 to take us to the Promised Land.

I cannot find it in me yet to think about a series with the Rockies. I cannot allow myself to even hope that we somehow pull off a miracle. Twice.

Cousin It

BUGGY

So we're headed to Cleveland with a clean slate. Poor Josh Beckett...such a solid performance, only to be let down AGAIN by the less-than-stellar performance of Gagne in G2. WTF?

OK, be warned a stinking nasty Robincita tirade is lingering in the air. On Friday night - the very night where Beckett dominated to the extent of pure bliss - Gagne came out of the bullpen and despite our considerable lead, I groaned. The others, all Sox fans, at our table tried to come to his defense claiming his talent as a pitch and saying that he's having an off year. That's OK with me. Sometimes that happens. But why, OH FUCKING WHY, does Francona feel the need to hand this boy the ball? We managed to pull it off for G1, but why did they pull him in again for G2? WHY? WHYYYYYYYY?????

Gagne has not proven himself. Gagne is not showing himself a worthy pitch. Why the fuck would you put him in when we're in a tie situation? A 6-6 game and you think it's wise to hand the ball to someone that has only proved he knows how to blow a game? WHYYYYYYY????????? I'm bothered. Very, very bothered.

Let's talk bugs. I'm actually hoping that the evil Cleveland gnats make an appearance. I think we're a bit stronger than our Yankee adversaries and I think it would be a bit fun to win despite the pestilence. Bring on the plague! Locusts for breakfast, anyone?

GO SOX!

Copycat

Sorry, guys, my friend Seth posted this first but it was so brilliant that I need to repost on mine. For the original, sign onto sethmarko.blogspot.com.

Headline was:

God Hates The Yankees

Looking Forward

When I realize that I'm going to travel somewhere, I'm one of those stupidly goofy-happy people that cannot wait to go. I shift my weight from foot to foot, I jump up and down shamelessly and I look forward to the adventure. To me, there is nothing like the unknown. I'm really, really pretty freaking good at the unknown.

Tonight, I'm ridiculously happy. There's no point to the happiness other than in the next three months I will be in Boston and then in Bolivia to have more adventures, to add more chapters to my life. To add more direction to the train named ME.

In the spirit of adventure and life, and recognizing that history is not only going to repeat itself but also pave the way for the future, I post this pic of me on Poas Volcano in Costa Rica.

Kicking Me Down

For the last week, I've been sick and out of touch. I apologize.


However, I do need to go off on a bitty tangent because work has installed new computers...which is normally quite a GOOD thing, but the software that they installed is all 2007, which means that the regular meticulous way of doing things has been quite irritating. Nothing works correctly, everything is freaking failing us and when we call IT, they usually just say "we're working on it." We're all trying to figure out the basics all over again...and again... and again....it's horrifying and absolutely frustrating. Try to picture using Word or Excel but not with the functions you're used to...OK, I'm done sulking. It still sucks ass.

The whole point of the tangent is that for some reason, my internet connection at work will not let me sign into blogger. This pisses me off to no end because I have SO MUCH FREE TIME AT WORK. Which means all my posts are now restricted to home until I figure out what the fuck is going on. Bygones. Bygones. I'm breathing freely now. OK, I'm lying. Whatever.


Since I've been ill for the past week, and wanting to catch you up to date, I thought I would post some pics from our kickball league. We actually WON our first game this past Thursday where Scott led off the game with an unprecedented (for us anyway) homerun....and I followed with a solid single and some great snags at short. Dad would be so proud!!! Like our Irish green shirts? Yes, that is wine in my "water" bottle. Got to keep it in plastics, y'know.