It’s honesty time, folks: sometimes Denton and I get drunk. And when we do, we usually hop in his car to find us a couple underage hookers or some oily senior citizens to beat down. But other times, we simply sit around the house arguing about all things Red Sox. Today, rather than keep these ridiculous arguments to ourselves, and inspired by Entertainment Weekly’s pop culture throwdown, we figured we’d share some of our most recent with you. Feel free to join in via the comments section.
The 1986 Red Sox were a better team top to bottom than the 2004 Red Sox!
Red: The ‘86 Sox had a rotation featuring a prime, pre-Vitamin B-12 Roger Clemens, Bruce Hurst, and Oil Can Boyd, plus Calvin Schiraldi in the bullpen and Tom Seaver as a late summer pick-up. They had Wade Boggs and his .357 average at third, Bill “laugh all you want about Game Six, I had over 100 RBIs and 18 home runs” Buckner at first, and an outfield featuring Tony Armas, Jim Rice and Dewey Evans. I’d say the 86 team beats the ‘04 team seven days a week and twice on Sunday.
Denton: I was baptized into Red Sox Nation with the 1986 team. They were great and special, yes, but remind me, what did they win? 2004 was the perfect storm of baseball players who made good on a promise that the 1986 team couldn’t fulfill. It was unlikeliest comeback in sporting history. What they did in the ALCS after being taken behind the woodshed in game three will never be matched. The 1986 team couldn’t man-up after an error, never mind a 19-8 beatdown.
Red: Good points, but are you gonna tell me that Spike Owen and Dave Henderson weren’t two of the best additions ever made to a Red Sox team at the trade deadline?
Denton: Spike Owen or O-Cab? Roger and Hurst or Pedro and Schill? Armas and Rice or Manny and Papi? See where I’m going with this?
Who wins an ultimate fighting cage match: Mike Timlin or Julian Tavarez?
Red: If anyone scares me more than Timlin, it’s Tavarez. Never mind the fact that he’s into punching phones and Joey Gaithright with equal aplomb. He’s also got that kinda evil edge to him. Like he’d try to shiv someone over the last piece of cheesecake on the post game spread.
Denton: All that is true about J-Tav, but I’ll take Mike Timlin any time the proverbial shit really hits the fan. The only reason you haven’t seen Mike rip someone’s head off and strike out the next batter with it is because he doesn’t have to. One look in his eyes and any would-be opponents are steady-booking it to the clubhouse for a fresh pair of undies.
Red: Either way, Cy Young could beat both their asses simultaneously with one hand in the cookie jar. Then force them to cook him a steak, fetch him some beers, and watch while he banged their sisters.
What’s the better song: “Sweet Caroline” or “Dirty Water”?
Red: Hey, I like “Dirty Water” as much as the next guy. But it’s played after the Sox win and, let’s face it, they could play “Careful With That Axe, Eugene” and the crowds would groove to it. It takes that Neil Diamond magic to get everyone up and dancing on a two-hundred degree August night.
Denton: “Sweet Caroline” can’t carry “Dirty Water”’s jock. It was written about a 12-year-old girl for Christ sake. It’s like the pedophile national anthem. By a guy who now dyes his friggin’ chest hair.
Red: Maybe so, but “Sweet Caroline” gets about 15,000 college chicks up and shaking their asses every home game. Anything with that kinda power is down with me.
Denton: “Dirty Water” is a signature song. It means “we won, bitches, please exit our house quietly and respectfully while we proceed to party our winning asses off.” Do you want to hear Neil Diamond when some shitbum team is shutting us out 6-0 in the eighth? Didn’t think so.
Shea Hillenbrand was the biggest douchebag to wear a Boston uniform!
Red: Shea’s a good call. But in terms of all-out douchebaggery, I think I’d go with either Rick Cerrone or Jim Leyritz. Although there’s gotta be a few guys from Cy Young’s era who were working on the side as pirates or government assassins.
Denton: All good candidates, Red, but how can you leave Jose Canseco off the list?
Red: Nah, I think I gotta go with Shea. I mean, Jose Offerman was something of a twit as well, but Shea just always looked so smug. The sort of face you’d want to slap, even if you were his mother. I also love the fact that he felt compelled to call Theo a “fag” on his way out the door. I was always hoping that after the 2004 World Series ended, Theo would show up drunk on some post-game show to hoist the trophy and yell, “Hey, Hillenbrand… bite my tweeter.”
Denton: Canseco. Nuff said.
Red: Actually, Leyritz’s douchebaggery stretches to manslaughter, so he wins.
Wakefield or Ortiz: Who’s the face of the Red Sox franchise?
Red: I’ve said it before, I say it again: Wakefield is the face of the Nation. He’s the most selfless player of this generation, a guy who gives his all on the field, bends to every whim of the team and upper management, and never hides from the media when he’s given the goat horns. Then there’s the charity work. Some players show up at the Jimmy Fund with their own camera crews. I’ve got relatives who work there who will attest to Tim’s frequent drop-ins, unannounced, with nothing but a smile on his face and a pen in his hand.
Denton: Don’t get me wrong, I love Wake. I love everything he’s done for the team and the community. And that would make him the face of the franchise…if we were talking about the Red Cross. This is major league friggin’ baseball, not tiddlywinks. The face of this franchise has to be someone that can grab the rest of the team, throw them on his back, and carry them to the Promised Land. Today, that man is David Ortiz. Big Papi has stepped up in the ninth and single-handedly put a game away more times than I care to count. In the very near future, I think we’re going to have a serious debate on our hands as to whether the face of the franchise is Beckett, Paps, or maybe someday Ellsbury.
Red: When my daughters grow up, I want them to marry a guy like Tim Wakefield. Hell, when I grow up, I wanna marry a guy like Tim Wakefield.
More throwdown tomorrow.