Insert Inane Rant Here
First, a personal gripe. I’ve always been a fan of the Sam Adams TV ads, in which our favorite “Brewer and Patriot” appears in a darkened corner of a bar, dispensing sage advice and commending those patrons who make the “good decision” to order a Sammy, savor every last drop, and not vomit in front of the hot chicks. The newest incarnation of these ads, however, plucks Mr. Adams from the barstool and deposits him in some twit’s apartment, where, as a poker game “rages” in the next room, he’s seen rummaging through a pizza box and mugging for the camera. Yes, it’s our man Sam, reduced to a bit player in a thirty-second sitcom. This means the inevitable “Sam Adams raps!” commercial can’t be far behind. When that happens, head to the lead-lined shelter, because the apocalypse is at hand.
Also, there was a game last night. It was a good game, because the Sox won, and from here until the end this type of game must occur with greater frequency.
It was a good game, because in the bottom of the first, after Wakefield gave up a two-run homer to Tino Martinez, Red Sox Nation threw up its collective arms and shouted, “What in good Christ’s name is wrong with Timmy?” only to see the Sox respond with three runs of their own in the top of the second. Also, Timmy settled down quite nicely, thank you, retiring the next 10 batters and helping his team secure a much needed win.
Orlando Cabrera, while collecting the wooden spoon with an 0-for-5 showing at the plate, flashed some impressive leather, turning a couple nice plays and making us all salivate for the moment when Pokey is playing at his side, creating a formidable infield combo.
I will confess to wondering aloud why Tito, for the second straight game, decided against playing Mientkiewicz — I mean, we just got this guy by sending away our single most recognizable player… don’t you have to play him? Then I saw Dave McCarty bust a three-run job, and gave Tito the mulligan.
Okay, I’ll accept the “1918” signs in New York. Maybe even in LA during interleague play. But in Tampa Bay? C’mon, people. When your team accomplishes something other than a pulled-straight-from-God’s-arse winning streak or having a mascot that can ride a scooter, give us a call. Until then, put the signs away, cheer for Zambrano, and await your bench coach’s next Preparation H ad. I will add this, though… I finally got a glimpse of how our “Yankees Suck” chant must look to the rest of MLB fandom.
Nomar: The Last Word
Lots of folks are apparently concerned as to how the children are going to take Nomar’s departure. Myself, I’m worried as to how my 31-year-old sister will react. She’s been a Nomar obsessive ever since his crooked beak first walked onto Fenway grass, and at times her enthusiasm for Number 5 has bordered on what the law would define as “stalking.” She hasn’t announced any plans to move to Chicago yet. But stay tuned.
All in all, last night’s win was a win that ended a two-game skid, so it was a very good win. But we’re still waiting for the win that sparks some sense of momentum. These are two series, against the Rays and Tigers, that the Sox have to take, no questions asked. And tonight, we pin our hopes for a victory on Curt Schilling. Now that’s always a good decision.