Surviving Grady

Now How Much Would You Pay?

2009-11-20T06:40:00.003-05:00

Jason Bay has rejected the Sox' initial offer of four years at 60 million bucks. My question for you this morning is what's the highest amount you'd want to see the front office pay to keep his 36 home runs, 119 RBIs, 162 strikeouts and .384 OBP (all 2009 stats) in Boston?

NESN Presents The Adventures of Ellsbury 'n' Elf Episode 11-B5: When Remdawg Comes Callin'

2009-11-19T00:19:00.010-05:00

Anybody home?

If you're waiting for "Get Your Picture Taken With the 2008 MVP Day," that's only on Wednesdays.

We're actually lookin' for yer roommate. Is he around?

Probably upstairs tuggin' on his jay-jay. Want me to get him?

Indeed.

What's up?

That was fast.

Ah. Mornin', there, Jacoby.

Hi.

We understand that you'll be wearin' a new number next season.

That's right. Number two.

I see. Ya know, sometimes wearin' the number two can get you into all sorts of trouble.

Huh?

What my brother's tryin' to say is that some cultures consider the number two to be a little unlucky, heralding the arrival of all sorts of bad stuff. Like plague or pestilence or a new John Mayer album.

You're a pretty good lookin' guy. I mean, just imagine if you was running after a pop fly and fell and smashed your face into a pile of bricks or, say, the side of someone’s gun. I mean, that'd hurt, mate. You follow?

Uh...

Or let's just imagine, for a moment, that summa that bad luck followed you home. I mean, that's a nice lookin' award you got there for most stolen bases by a Red Sox player. But, y'know, things break.

Are... are you guys threatening me?

Threatenin's a strong word, mate. We're just makin' sure you've properly considered all the other numbers out there. Y'know, besides the number two.

Anyways, our boss is the only one who does the threatening. He'd like a word with you, too.

Your boss?

Hello, Jacoby.

Remy! I... I--

You what? You gonna tell me how you weren’t on the phone the minute Brad Mills left town so you could snag number two all for yourself? ::Casually tosses beer bottle to the side of the room and starts to roll up sleeves::

::moving back:: No, no. It's just... I've always wanted to wear number two, and--

And you think just like that we have to give it up?

No. I mean--

Look here, pretty boy. Number two ain't just something you inherit. It's something you earn. Something you fight for. Think you're man enough to wear it?

Well, I--

Back in the day, when I wanted to wear number two, think they just handed it over to my rookie ass? Feck, no! First I had to pay off Mikey Andrews and Doug Griffin, because that's just what you did. Are you ready to pay?

Pay?

Then Dewey and Butch Hobson put the number two jersey on a Bengal tiger and locked me in a cage with it, saying that whoever comes out wearing the jersey gets to keep it. And that’s why, to this day, I’m the only major leaguer with a pair of Bengal Tiger slacks. BECAUSE I WANTED IT MORE THAN THE TIGER.

You're frightening me.

Not to mention the game of “Find the key hidden somewhere on Bob Watson’s body” that I was subjected to if I wanted to get into my locker. I won’t sicken you with the details, but it was probably the most romantic night of Bob’s life.

::Covering his ears:: No more. Please.

Then, just when I thought the number two was finally mine, Yaz came up and kicked me square in the nuts. And when I asked him why, you know what he said?

No?

He said he did it BECAUSE HE WAS YAZ. And as I writhed on the floor, clasping my onions, he pointed and laughed before walking off in a cloud of cigar smoke and teenage girls. But the very next day, when I got to the park, that number two jersey was hanging in my locker. Because I earned it. So now it’s your turn to earn it. ::strips off his clothes:: You think you’re man enough for number two? Kick these nuts. Just you try to kick my nuts!

::Shielding his eyes:: Please, Remy, put your pants back on. I don’t want to see your nuts and I don’t want to kick them and I don’t want your number. You can have it.

Really?

Yes. Just take it.

Well that was easier than I thought. Come on, boys. Let’s roll.

Boss, don’t you want to put your pants back on first?

I’m Jerry Remy, motherf#$ker. I wear pants only when it’s convenient for me to do so.

::sidles over to Jacoby:: Dude, that was awesome.

Glad you were amused.

Also, you’re kind of a pussy.

:: The Next Day::

Well, since I couldn’t be number two, I just decided to take the two and add a one to it. So my new number is twenty-one.

Alls well that ends well. Time to call some hookers.

::knock at the door::

Why don’t you get that first. I’ve got to fill out my licensing paperwork.

It’s for you.

What's up, peckerhead?

* * * * * * * * * *

Interestingly, only three Red Sox players have worn the number two for more than one season since Remy left the Sox: Luis Rivera, Damon Buford and Carl Everett. Coach Millsy has worn it since 2004.

Oh, and if you didn't know this, the theme for today’s episode was shamelessly cribbed from this Monty Python classic:

This Was Supposed to Be the Summer of George

2009-11-18T22:43:00.002-05:00

Only, it won't be. Because George Kottaras, the light-hitting, fast-loving and oft-injured back-up catcher, has been waived by the Sox and picked up by the Brewers.

This move leaves us with two catchers, one Canadian (With Kottaras' departure, Bay is now the Sox' lone Canuck) and nobody named George. And that, as they say, is that.

Off-Season, Off-Topic: RIP, Ken Ober

2009-11-18T07:51:00.004-05:00

Stepping out of the fog of business travel for a few moments yesterday, I was saddened to hear about the passing of Ken Ober, former host of MTV’s game show Remote Control.

Honestly, I was never a big fan of Remote, and it’s hard to wax nostalgic for a show that pushed Adam Sandler, Colin Quinn and Kari Wuhrer on an unsuspecting world. But Ober always seemed to rise above it all, giving knowing glances to the camera as if to acknowledge to all of us watching at home that, yes, this sucks, but he really needs to eat.

That said, having consumed a night’s worth of Remote Control re-runs being shown on MTV2 to commemorate Ober, I gotta say the show holds up as a handy if wince-inducing Cliffs Notes version of growing up in the late '80s. And the “Beat the Bishop” segment, in which contestants have to answer questions before a guy dressed as a bishop completes a lap around the studio, is bloody genius.

Anyway, godspeed, Mr. Ober, to that podium in the sky.

The Truth Is Out There

2009-11-18T00:27:00.004-05:00

I'm back. Or did I really ever go away? Not for you to know. Just listen. Everything happens for a reason. Consider all the theories you've heard for the past 48 hours about the Patriots-Colts game, and let it go. Dust in the wind. Forget every mangled statistic you've heard defending how going for a 4th and 2 inside your own 30 gives you a better chance to win a football game than punting the ball away and making Mr. Manning work for his glory. What? You didn't know I was a sports fan? I'm not. I'm a fan of the truth and the deception that makes you believe that truth. Forget the Kool-Aid drinking media and their "In Bill We Trust" mantra. Forget the enraged fans that think Belichick has "lost it" - too consumed by his own ego and invincibility to make the right call. Yes, forget it all. Everything happens for a reason...just not the reason you might think. There is a greater power out there controlling the fate of men, moving even the great Bill Belichick like a pawn on a chessboard. No, no, don't look to the sky. The great puppetmaster walks among us, pulling strings, making us dance. Verbal Kint said it best: "The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist." While you were commiserating over what could have been, drowning the echoes of "4th and 2" with so much cheap booze and wanton sexual escapades, he struck again. Right under your noses. While you were caught up in the smokescreen he created with one quick phone call to The Coach, he had his hand in your pocket, pulling out just a few dollar bills, nothing you'd notice. Don't believe me? I didn't expect you too. But think about it. We'll talk again soon.

Give It Away Now

2009-11-17T07:11:00.004-05:00

A few years ago, I found myself in a heated argument about former Sox prospect Abe Alvarez.

After the second-round pick was named Pitcher of the Year for the Sea Dogs back in ’04, I figgered he’d eventually prove a useful left-handed cog in the machine, most likely at the back of the rotation. The other gentleman politely disagreed, claiming Honest Abe was a soft-tosser destined to unravel in the big show. Fueled by the demon alcohol, our disagreement quickly got out of hand.

Needless to say, I ended up killing the other guy with a crude weapon fashioned from a broken Schlitz bottle and plutonium. But I still carry the lesson of that day: Prospects are prospects, and no matter what the stat sheets and minor league reports tell you, you’re never quite sure what they’re going to give you on the main stage.

It’s a point that the great Chad Finn hammers home in his insightful piece on what it’s gonna take for the Sox to pry Adrian Gonzalez from San Diego.

Simply put, it’s gonna take prospects. Lots of them. And with Jed Hoyer’s intimate knowledge of our farm system, you can safely bet he’ll be weeding the contenders from the pretenders. As Chad notes:

If Theo has to part with Casey Kelly (is he closer to the next Frankie Rodriguez or closer to the next Zack Greinke?) or Ryan Westmoreland (are the injuries officially a concern?) or frankly, anyone in the organization with legitimate aspirations of playing in Fenway Park someday, he must do it, unless and only unless he's covertly hoarding his chips for a possible Felix Hernandez sweepstakes.

Otherwise, he's got to go get Gonzo. He won't be 28 until May, he's a terrific defender with a pair of Gold Gloves (for what those are worth), and he's coming off a monster season (40 homers, 119 walks, .958 OPS; 28 homers and 1.045 OPS away from the Petco Canyon) while anchoring a lineup that featured no one else more venerable than Will Venable.

I not only concur, I'll even bring the argument down a few notches by offering another, more sordid reason to deplete the farm for A-Gon. Have you seen his wife, Betsy?

Together, Mr. and Mrs. G front the Adrian and Betsy Gonzalez Foundation, which helps underprivileged youth. And I have to say, having another ~~hot~~ charitable wife in the stands never hurts.

In fact, it’ll almost be enough to help us overlook the unstoppable barrage of “Yo, Adrian” headlines.

Nothing To Say

2009-11-16T17:00:00.001-05:00

Baseball is in hibernation, we can no longer trust Bill, the Celts lost two in a row...tomorrow will be a better day.

November Pain

2009-11-15T10:08:00.002-05:00

Everytime I turned on a radio this week, all I heard was BradyManningBradyManningBradyManning. True, the Patriots and the Colts are playing Sunday night. But people, it's a regular season game in November. It's not the Superbowl, it's not the playoffs, and it certainly isn't going to determine which one of them is the greatest quarterback of all time. Someone will win and someone will lose. And if it's the Colts that win, you can be sure the Big Show clowns will be blaming the referees.

So to avoid the incessant babble, I flipped over to 103.3 to sweat to the oldies and they were playing Christmas songs. Ditto on 105.7.

What is going on with the world?

Rise of the Silver Slugger

2009-11-14T11:47:00.000-05:00

Belated congrats to future ex-Red Sox Jason Bay for winning his first Silver Slugger award.

Congrats, also, to The Great Untanned's agent, who will no doubt be able to spin this into a couple more zeros. Or a boat.

Marrying Up

2009-11-14T00:08:00.001-05:00

Congratulations to Clay Buchholz for pulling off the most mismatched marriage since Salman Rushdie scored Padma Lakshmi. Clay and "Deal Or No Deal" briefcase opener Lindsay Clubine (right) will tie the knot in California later today. The event will inspire millions of not-so-good-looking young boys across the nation to go out in their backyard and learn how to throw a curveball.

Oddly, while "researching" for this post, I couldn't find a single mention of Clay on Lindsay's website.

Fool's Gold

2009-11-13T00:01:00.000-05:00

How does this happen and not cause national outrage? Derek Jeter winning the AL Gold Glove at shortstop should have been welcomed with anger and vitriol usually reserved for mass murderers and Smashmouth reunion tours. Instead, most people wrinkled their noses like the guy in the next cube farted, and moved on. It's as if people are resigned to the fact that the Yankee Empire is entitled to take whatever they want: all the top free agents, the World Series, and now even the most undeserved individual awards.

The Gold Glove awards are voted by the Managers and coaches in each league for the best defensive player at each position. There's a guy named Elvis Andrus playing in Texas that should be sporting a Gold Glove right now. Jeter had the highest fielding percentage and fewest errors of all starting shortstops...but that really doesn't tell the story.

Andrus had 690 total chances to Jeter's 554, and Jeets even played about 20 more innings than Elvis. Put-outs: 261-206 in favor of Andrus. Assists: 407-340...Andrus. Range Factor: 4.86-3.90...do I even have to say it? What all this means is that Jeter makes the plays if the ball is hit right at him, but he just doesn't get to as many balls (insert "other than the ones bouncing off his chin" joke here) as Andrus, or several other AL shortstops.

In my opinion, this is another blemish on Major League Baseball. Whether Jeter won the award because he's a better hitter, because he's more popular or simply because he wears pinstripes really doesn't matter. What matters is a great young shortstop was screwed out of the award. The rich get richer and the Yankee entitlement continues.

Peace and Matsui Sell... But Who's Buying?

2009-11-12T11:15:00.000-05:00

My favorite Hideki Matsui story is from the 2004 ALCS. The guy had been killing us games one through four, going 11-for-20 and knocking in 11 runs. Godzilla was stomping all over my dreams, making 2003 look like a good time at Make-Out Lodge by comparison.

Then, in game five, Pedro said, "F#$k this noise" and came in high and tight, practically dropping the Deki on his arse. From that point on, in games five through seven, Matsui went 2-for-14. Mission accomplished.

My second favorite Matsui story is something I saw at Boston.com today about how his agent, Arn Tellem -- who, along with Bean Stringfellow, could break away and form the Nation of Agents with Awesome Names -- is using, of all things, the Huffington Post to play up his client:

Matsui combines the late-inning heroics of Yankees great Tommy (Old Reliable) Henrich and the superb professionalism of Paul O'Neill. He's a complete player who always has taken pride in contributing to all facets of the game.

Also, loves his porno.

Tek 2010

2009-11-11T17:00:00.007-05:00

I have nothing but respect for the man called Varitek, especially since he may be privvy to what Heidi Watney's arse looks like sans pants.

But that photo above of Tek with bat in hand inspires nothing but pure horror in me. Because there was no one who sunk our hearts when he stepped to the plate quite like the Cap'n of late. Need someone to kill a rally? Tek's your man, man, and it pained me to watch him drop further into oblivion with each at bat.

Regardless of what I thought of the man, he still has that certain je ne sais quoi. Maybe it's his presence in the clubhouse, his willingness to throwdown for the cause, or that voice which seems just a few octaves too high for his Brutus-like body. The front office certainly sees it, because they didn't have him whacked before he could exercise his option to return for another year. And not, like, to park cars and shit -- he'll actually be playing! Although in a decidedly limited role.

Whatever the reason, even though a good chunk of the guy's skill set seems to have left the building, I wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to the Captain. So I get to have him around another year but don't have to watch him pop out/strike out/GIDP as much. I guess that's a win-win.

UPDATE FROM THE "WE LOVE IRONY" DEPARTMENT: In the comments, Our Man Q noted that the screencap I posted is the at-bat in which Tek blasted a grand slam off AJ Burnett. So I do have to give JV his props for that.

Thank You

2009-11-11T10:44:00.002-05:00

To all who have served or are currently serving.

Conquest of the Planet of the Wakefields!

2009-11-10T05:26:00.008-05:00

Bow your heads! This tribunal is in session!

Thank you, General Aldo. We have a lot to cover today. First things first, this human. The one called Wakefield.

We found him loitering in our crops, Doctor!

Is this true, human?

I was having a catch. We lost the ball in the corn, I went looking for it. Next thing I know, this asshole's hitting me with a stick.

He was f@#king with our corn!

Let's keep calm heads, please. Wakefield, what is this thing called "catch," and, more importantly, what is a talking human in that obscene outfit doing in our city in the year 3975?

Playing baseball. What do you think?

In 3975? Preposterous!

Look, the Red Sox signed me to a 2-year deal back in 2009. Then I got another one in 2011. And in 2013. And 2015. Yadda, yadda, yadda, here I am, still pitching.

Heresay. Mister Cornelius, can you confirm this wild tale?

Well, Doctor, the scrolls do tell of a man named Wakefield who started over 25,000 games for the Boston Red Sox. And he accurately described the place called "Yawkey Way" which I've visited during several outings with the archeological club.

I can't explain it. I just... keep pitching. I've been through Mike MacFarlane, Scott Hatteberg, Tek for quite a long time, then V-Mart, Jarrod Saltalamacchia, Joey Cluggstein, Butch Fontes, Crazy Al Kitchen, Roger LaFrancois VII, Tallish Porter, X-15 B and, most recently, Robot Carlton Fisk. Catchers come and go, but I just keep rolling.

Preposterous. A man doesn't pitch for close to 2,000 years. Even the great Mariano Rivera was eventually chloroformed in 2099.

Then how do you explain me?

I don't. You're a freak. A mistake. A creature that needs to be banished. Back to the Forbidden Zone from where you came.

Whatevs. I got a game tonight, so if you'll excuse me.

Nonsense! Aldo! Restrain the human!

Uh. I don't think so, sir. He makes a good point. Plus, he signed all these baseballs for the kids' hospital.

F@#k me. We're just letting him walk away?

Sir, if it's any consolation, the conditions in the Forbidden Zone are such that his knuckleball can't keep working forever. The radiation alone will eventually have a negative impact on his VORP and WHIP.

Perhaps it's for the best. Wakefield is a Red Sox through and through, the embodiment of everything that's right and good with this game. Out there, he will find his destiny. We should allow him to pursue it peacefully.

I see.

Plus, once he sees the Statue of Liberty half-buried in the sand, he's gonna know we're all on Steinbrenner's payroll. That reminds me. Guards, how's the latest free agent signing coming?

He's ready to write his name on the line. Aren't you, motherf@#ker?

Rick Burleson: Greatest Reclamation Project Ever

2009-11-09T06:30:00.000-05:00

When I heard the Sox had declined Alex Gonzalez’ option for 2010, I’ll admit to being a little surprised. I figgered we’d do what we needed to do to keep the guy around another year, then let him slowly fade into the sunlight next autumn, like David Banner at the end of every episode of The Incredible Hulk. I was impressed with his 2009 glove work, though it may have just been the fact that he wasn’t Julio Lugo or Jed Lowrie. And for a guy who’s known to be “all glove, no offense love,” A-Gon always seemed to nail a hit when we needed one.

Of course, there’s still a chance that we can work something out with Gonzo at a little less than $6 million a year. Or maybe the front office is working on some ultra-secret long-term shortstop solution that none of us can see coming.

But if not, let me suggest another option: Rick Burleson.

Think about it; The Rooster could prove Theo’s greatest reclamation project ever. Sure, the guy’s 58 years old and hasn’t played pro ball since Manny Ramirez was born, but that’s part of the fun. America’s love of old people and our inherent desire to root for the underdog would make this the story of the season (and think of the potential revenue generation from a Tom Werner-produced reality series charting the Rooster’s return to the bigs).

Let’s also not forget that Burleson’s a four-time All Star and Gold Glover who threw leather like some of today’s shortstops can only dream about (“Rooster jumps for rope!” was a familiar cry during Sox radio broadcasts back in the day, or so my great uncle Pietro insists). He’s also a moustache-sportin’ tough guy who would give us a little bit of that thug cred we’ve been missing since Trot Nixon and Mike Timlin left town. More importantly, with his pension soon to kick in, we could certainly get him on the cheap; hell, if his only options at his age are starting shortstop for the Boston Red Sox or Wal-Mart greeter, what do you think he’d choose?

Last but not least, can we even begin to imagine what a boost it would give Tim Wakefield to throw someone roughly 18 years his senior on the roster?

Like I said, I’m sure Theo’s got something in the works. But if not, let’s get the Rooster on the horn.

Happy Birthday, Mr. President

2009-11-08T14:07:00.002-05:00

Today is Jerry Remy's birthday. Accordingly, we will don our celebratory Remy masks, drink only the finest of malt liquors, re-read our copies of the Dawg's "Watching Baseball," and sit alongside a lifesize cardboard cutout of Orsillo. Headphones, as always, are optional.

Also, happy birthday, Mom.

Your Daily A-Rod Hate

2009-11-08T12:55:00.001-05:00

Remembering the Important Stuff

2009-11-07T11:37:00.002-05:00

I'll never get tired of hating on the Yankees. But this story is a pretty poignant reminder that underneath the unis, we're all just people:

Hours after managing the Yankees to their first World Championship in nine years, Joe Girardi managed to become a hero to a Westchester County woman whose car struck a concrete barrier.

The Journal-News quoted Sgt. Thomas McGurn as saying Girardi put himself at risk in leaving his car to dash across a busy roadway near a "notorious" blind curve.

"He could’ve gotten killed," said McGurn, quoted from the report received by the newspaper. "Traffic goes by at 80 mph."

Girardi felt he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary.

"Obviously, there’s a lot of joy in what we do, but we can’t forget our obligation as human beings," he said.

Nuff said.

Top Five Things About The Yankees Winning The World Series

2009-11-07T10:13:00.000-05:00

5) We never have to hear "26 Rings" again

4) It's official: even with a World Series ring, A-Rod is a douche

3) Money still can buy championships

2) Joe Girardi can afford the fishfacectomy he has been saving for

1) Tim McCarver can end his 9-year celibacy and have sex with his blow-up Jeter doll

Listen, we all know there's nothing good that comes out of the Yankees winning the World Series, it's like rooting for the Germans to win WWII. So we officially turn our eyes toward the 2010 season and the Jeremy Hermida era.

A Little Traveling Music, Please?

2009-11-06T05:39:00.005-05:00

Yesterday, more than half of the eligible players jumped into the magic waters of free agency, like a horde of shoppers barreling down the halls of WalMart on Black Friday to grab the last Tickle Me Jim Croce.

Not surprising to anyone, Jason Bay was among the first into the pool, looking to improve on the four years and 60 million clams we offered him. Theo has characterized negotiations thus far with Bay as "weird", which is never a good sign. But when the player you covet admits to dressing up as a hula girl in college, well, that's what you're gonna get.

While I think offering Bay anything over four years would be crazy, letting him go creates a whole new slew of problems, especially if Ortiz v2009 was the harbinger of declines to come. Bay brings some intangibles along with his 36 home runs and 119 RBIs; he's a good clubhouse guy, reps himself well in the harsh glow of the spotlight, and has never--to the best of my knowledge--been caught pantsless outside Riley's Roast Beef. In the end, I'm guessing we overpay for four years of his services, but I've been drinking since Wednesday so take that as you will.

In other news, the Sox picked up Jeremy Hermida from the Marlins for Kraven the Hunter Jones and Jose Alvarez. Said Theo:

"Hermida is a player who hasn't fulfilled his potential yet and we acquired him today for a reasonable cost to see if he might be able to fulfill that potential with us. He's somebody who has positive indicators that future performance might be better than his past performance. His Minor League track record, his age, draft pedigree, our scouting reports over the years, indicate that there's a chance he can turn into the player that he was once thought to be."

Not sure whether Theo wants Hermida to spell or replace Rocco or plans on flipping him somewhere else, but the guy's best year at the plate was 2007 when he hit .296 with 18 home runs and 63 RBIs. Also, he's a nice guy, his mom loves him and he once co-signed an auto loan for a friend struggling to get back on his feet.

Joe Girardi, Space Monkey

2009-11-05T06:04:00.003-05:00

Just one World Series title in the twenty-first century? That's unfortunate because, y'know, we've got two.

But I can't give credit to Girardi for the Yanks' World Series win. I mean, when you put a monkey in a li'l spacesuit and send him to the moon in a fully-automated, fully-stocked rocket, you don't give the monkey credit for the spaceflight.

I can't give it to the players, either, since there really isn't a likable guy in the lot (although I still give Rivera props for his tip of the cap to the Fenway crowd during the 2005 Opening Day intros). How long, seriously, until the first off-season story in which Joba or AJ Burnett gets shivved in a barroom altercation?

I guess I have to credit this to the people behind the scenes. The folks who ponied up the 200+ million dollars to assemble this Legion of Super Whores, supplied the steroids, built the obscenely short porch at The Stadium to redefine "home field advantage," paid off the umps, helped the terrorists get the plutonium, made sure the aliens had earth's coordinates and financed the latest Adam Sandler film.

Still, where Yankees World Series wins used to send me down what I like to call "The Pabst Spiral," this one's just an annoyance (thanks again, 2004!). I wanted to see 'em lose just to see 'em lose. But they didn't, so we move on. That said, there's still part of me that hopes Godzilla steps on their worthless, soulless parade. I mean, that ugly f@#k Matsui's been abusing his good name for years. He owes them.

Last thoughts on the subject go to Youk:

Yup. That's just what I thought you'd say.

Nothing Is Over Until We Say It's Over

2009-11-04T19:57:00.002-05:00

Like Red, I am not ready for an off-season involving the number 27 and herds of bandwagon Yankee fans. So I cling to the faith that I generally save only for the Red Sox. And the blissful memories of the 2004 ALCS fuel that faith.

Some Pettitte stats that give us hope (from Newsday.com):

Pettitte is 37 now, and he hasn't pitched on short rest since 2006, when he was an Astro. His record on three days' rest is an uninspiring 4-6 with a 4.15 ERA.
And for all the well-deserved respect Pettitte gets for his postseason track record, the World Series has never really been his thing. As a Yankee, his playoff record is 12-4 with a 3.73 ERA. In the World Series, he is a .500 pitcher, 4-4, with a 4.00 ERA.

By the way, Tim McCarver: Suck it.

Please Save Us, Pedro, From the Most Insufferable Winter Ever

2009-11-04T06:15:00.004-05:00

It's tough to get all hot and bothered about the World Series when the Sox don't have a horse in the race. And, honestly, I don't care who wins it all. So long as it isn't the Yankees.

A Yankees win would really make this one of the most insufferable winters on record. Think about it. Teixeira and A-Rod cozying up to Conan O'Brien. The inevitable "Dynasty Reborn" documentary on ESPN. Joe Girardi peddling authentic game-worn nipple clamps on QVC. McCarver and Buck carrying Jeets up and down Madison on a sedan chair. AJ Burnett pimping Gatorade, Wheaties and "Balls Up" cologne. CC Sabathia guest-starring on a very special episode of "Cake Boss."

And then there'll be the fans. Reminding us daily about their 27 rings. Explaining how Nick Swisher ownz JD Drew. Chanting "2007." Devising some Rube Goldberg-esque argument involving PEDs and cash that somehow renders our 2004 and 2007 titles invalid, conveniently forgetting that their run of late 20th century championships were bought with steroids, bribe money and robot voodoo (hey, I can make shit up, too!).

They'll come out of the woodwork. Dusting off the caps they've hidden in shame for the past nine years. Bragging about how they're a lock for 2010 as they order their double-meat sandwiches at Subway. There'll be parades and keys to the city and "Cano for Mayor" signs and Roger Clemens dropping by to congratulate Andy and say how great it is to see the trophy back in New York where it belongs while he feels up college chicks behind the podium. It will be bragging rights and bullshit and a non-stop hail of "I told you so" calls to sports radio stations.

It won't be as bad as the seething pain I felt throughout the winter of 2003. But it'll be pretty damn close.

On the other hand...

If Pedro comes through tonight. If he shuts them down and shuts them up and forces a game seven. And if the Yankees drop that game seven in their new ballpark. In front of their hometown crowd. Now THAT would be a Christmas gift on par with a Sox Series victory.

If the Phillies win tonight, then all the pressure's on New York. The papers will talk of collapse. The 2004 ALCS clips will roll fast and furious. They'll shake their fists at the sky and ask how much money they have to spend to win one of these goddam things. I can't imagine anything humbling a Yankees fan. But this would come pretty damn close.

One of the problems with working for a company that's headquartered in New York City is that I spend a little too much time in the Apple. I was there on that fateful night in 2003 when Grady Little and Aaron Boone kicked us all in the jimmy. Tonight, ironically, I'll be back there again. With Pedro on the hill in Yankee Stadium and a couple hundred folks in our NY office ready to pounce on me come Thursday morning.

If the Yanks pull it off, Thursday will be the first day of the rest of my off-season. But if they lose, if Pedro comes up huge and the stage is set for another monumental Yankee collapse, I'll be the only guy smiling in the room. And I'll be one step closer to never realizing a winter in which my insufferable Yankees fan friends become even more insufferable.

I'm right behind you, Pedro. Make it so.

Prepare to Launch Yer Lunch

2009-11-03T03:04:00.004-05:00

From the latest US Weekly:

[Kate] Hudson -- who has been front and center at [A Rod's] baseball games since they began dating this past spring -- has been bragging to pals about what a good lover Rodriguez is.

"They love sex!" a pal tells Us Weekly of the pair who began dating in May. "They talk about it all day. Kate gets graphic talking about his body, even to her parents."

This must make breakfast at the Hudson house ultra-special.

Bill Hudson: Kate, will you pass the margarine?

Kate Hudson: Sure, Dad. By the way, you should totally see A-Rod's cock and balls.

Bill Hudson: Awesome.

Well, we'd expect nothing less from a woman dating a guy who has portraits of himself as a centaur. But what burns my ass is if A-Rod and Kate get married, El Toolio will have somehow inserted himself into the family responsible for The Hudson Brothers' Razzle Dazzle Show, sullying yet another one of my childhood memories.

Go Phillies.