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Don't Like It? Go Root for the Cubs.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do with this blog after Sox Appeal ended. The point of it had been to bitch about the Red Sox and let's face it, there hasn't been much to bitch about these past few weeks. But on the morning of the first game of the World Series, leave it to one of the Knights of the Keyboard (hat tip Teddy Ballgame) to come up with something.

The Boston Globe's Brian McGrory wrote an article about 2004 changing everything.

For the worse.

Here's a sample:

As it was, we claimed all the angst for ourselves, though the good people of Chicago seemed to have their own supply. Red Sox fans could always blame our misfortunes on New York's payroll, Boston's mismanagement, free agents' unwillingness to come here. It gave us our status as perennial underdogs, the lovable spectacle. We wore that suit, frayed as it sometimes seemed, very comfortably.

Without it, what have we become?

And here's the answer we know but dread: Another free-spending, big market team that buys its way into the postseason with every expectation that it will win.

He continues:

But here's the problem with the 2007 edition of the Boston Red Sox: There is no narrative arc. They started the season as playoff favorites. They finished the season as playoff favorites. There will be a whole lot of stunned people if they don't win.

They don't, in short, have a story. Maybe that's how the Yankees do it, or the Dallas Cowboys, or the old Montreal Canadiens, but it's not generally how we do things on Yawkey Way - at least not in 1967 or 1975 or 1986 or 2004.

Which doesn't necessarily make it bad. And having Fenway as the epicenter of the entire baseball world this week is nothing short of thrilling. But it's different this time from any other time, and it's really and truly not us.

Can you believe it?

No, seriously, can you believe it? It's the morning of Game 1 and this bastard is whining that things aren't dramatic enough.

Here's what I think:

Brian McGrory can take his "narrative arc" and shove it up his ass. Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with people?? Why does everything need a god damned storyline? Why does it have to be about everything other than what's taking place on the field. You know, THE GAME? 2004 was an incredible, amazing, exhilarating experience. But does it diminish what will happen on the field tonight and what might happen four or five or six or seven games from now? Hell no. If 2004 makes you less enthusiastic about winning this year or makes you feel like this is just another team then shame on you. I actually feel sorry for you because you've apparently decided that unbridled joy can only happen once in a lifetime and that's a bunch of bullshit. Is it different? Of course it's different. And thank God it is because as good as 2004 was, having it happen year after year after year would get boring after a while. It's a different team with different players and a different style that makes them no less than the 2004 team. It just makes them different. And if you're someone that needed the 86 years of fucking misery to define your experience as a fan, go root for the Cubs. McGrory acts like there's something wrong with being like the Yankees or the Cowboys or the Canadiens. Isn't that the entire f'ing point of watching sports? To hope that your team wins every single game? When did that become some kind of sin? Why, because it breeds contempt in some jackasses like Easterbrook and Peter King and other internet and newspaper tough guys? Eff them. Let them hate us. They can lament the lack of storylines all they want because God knows they'll just create some where they don't exist in an effort to try and justify their sorry lives. And that's exactly what McGrory did. He created a storyline about not having a storyline to fulfill some ridiculous need to have a curse or a sob story in play in order to enjoy the game. How incredibly pathetic and sad. I'll take being hated any day over that.

The only storyline I care about between now and November 1st is the Red Sox winning the World Series. That's it. If that's not interesting or entertaining enough for you, go watch Still, We Believe.

Trust Me, Kid

You'll get over it.

And what the hell are you crying about anyway? How old are you? Five? Six? If you're crying like this now, you're going to be institutionalized by the time you're a teenager.

Bart Giamatti, who was the boss of baseball long before Bud Selig, said that baseball is designed to break your heart. But it does more than that. It steals your girlfriend, wrecks your car, sets your house on fire and drinks your beer like a bad country music song.

You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?

How about this? It steals your bike, burns down your playground and breaks your Wii.

But you know what? You'll keep coming back to it. No matter how awful it makes you feel, as soon as February rolls around, you'll feel that little tug inside your heart. You'll try and fight it, of course, because that's what we do. We try and stay away from things that could hurt us. I swore to myself that I would never watch another baseball game again after the Red Sox lost Game 7 of the 2003 American League Championship. I was just like you. I cried for hours and barely spoke for days. I wanted nothing to do with the team, nothing to do with the sport. They were dead to me. Even when they signed Curt Schilling in the off-season, they were dead to me.

I don't think I made it through the first week of spring training before I started watching again. And at the end of that season, I was in the same room, in the same spot, crying for hours. Only this time, I was crying because they had won the World Series.

This game, this crazy, frustrating, maddening, heartbreaking, beautiful game becomes a part of you that you just can't shut off. So keep your head up, kid. It'll get better. And worse. And better again.

Just like life.

Now THIS is Reality TV

The Red Sox Nation Presidential Debate was supposed to air on NESN Friday night but was postponed for something slightly more important.

You know, the Sox winning the AL East for the first time since 1995.

It may have aired on Saturday night or Sunday. Who knows? Or, more importantly, who cares? And if you do care, what the hell is wrong with you?

None of this bullshit is necessary. Not Sox Appeal. Not this contrived fiasco of an election. Not whatever Dr. Charles creates to torture us with next season. It's not necessary. The team doesn't need it and the fans don't need it.

Look at the thousands of fans that stuck around after the game ended on Friday night to see if the Orioles would beat the Yankees. That game could have gone 20 innings and six hours long and those fans would have stayed.

Why? That's easy.

Because this is what matters. This is what's important.

Other than the people who were actually on it, no one will remember Sox Appeal when they talk about the 2007 season. When was the last time you heard someone talk about the Boston vs NY Poker Challenge? Exactly.

what they will remember is the debut of Dice-K. Mike Lowell being the team's quiet leader. Dustin Pedroia's huge, bulging biceps. JD Drew's...never mind. Manny, Big Papi, Varitek, Youk. Josh Beckett's twenty wins. A rookie pitcher throwing a no-hitter in his second major league start.

They'll remember this:






And you know what?

If we're lucky, we might just remember this:



Call me crazy but I'll take that over hearing some creepy old guy asking ladies to pull his string.

THIS is the good stuff. It doesn't get better than this. And it all starts on Wednesday.

11 wins.

Are you ready?

Turning Red Sox Nation Into a Banana Republic

Tonight's Sox Appeal is a recrap of the mercifully concluded season. There's no word yet as to whether NESN will bring it back for a second season but given what an awful show it was, it's a virtual guarantee.

Wednesday night, NBC's Tim Russert, host of Meet the Press, will moderate a Democratic presidential debate at Dartmouth College in New Hampshire. He'll ask senators, congressmen and governors their thoughts on war, poverty, health care and terrorism. One of those people may (will) become the leader of the free world next year.

On Thurday, Tim will travel to Boston University to moderate the Red Sox Nation presidential debate. He'll ask two plagiarists, a 300 pound relief pitcher, a Hall of Fame baseball writer who completely missed the whole steroid thing, and a dog, among others, their thoughts on ticket prices, seat width and Wally.

The "debate" will air on NESN after Friday night's game. And you can bet your ass we'll be here.

Sox Appeal Episode 8: The One That Might Be the Last

I don't want to get your hopes up but it looks like this experiment in terror is coming to an end. And no, I don't mean this blog. Next week's episode of Sox Appeal is a recap episode. And it's no coincidence that the season ends next week.

Tonight's episode was a little different. One woman, six men and no, Courtney Love wasn't involved. Instead of the usual two innings, each date was only an inning long so first impressions would be really important. And that means we're in for a whole lot of fail.

Before we get started, does that Chicken McNuggets commercial make anyone else feel stabby? And speaking of stabby, I found myself humming the Sox Appeal theme song a couple of days ago. I may need O.J. to put me out of my misery.

This is Kendra Curtis.




She's the 32yr old flight attendant for the Boston Bruins and still lives at home with her parents because she "enjoys being with family". It's ok, Kendra. I tell myself the same thing every day. And as long as you're not living in the basement, it's all good. She seems like a cool broad. Down to earth, isn't in a big rush to find a husband. I hope NESN is paying her well to deal with the parade of (mostly) losers she's about to meet.

Loser #1 is Ritchie Gotell, a 30yr old pipefitter from Weymouth.



Did you see his worst date? Dude, unless you meant a JEFF Beck concert, you deserved to be punched.

Ritchie looks like he just rolled out of sewer. His clothes are dirty and his Sox hat could be declared a Superfund site. Kendra asks him about it and he says "this has been around since the Sox won it all."

Three years ago. It's not exactly vintage. I have empty Dunks cups in the backseat of my car that are older than that hat.

Ritchie ends up being a big oaf who spends most of the date heckling the eight year old sitting in the Crow and Servo seats. Hey! Something else that's older than that hat!

It was a mercifully quick inning and Ritchie heads up to the roof bar and meets up with the other five dates. All I'm saying is poor Kendra.

Next up is Allan Rafael. He's 29, Brazilian, and works in the "film industry".



OK, whoever just said "fluffer" should be ashamed of themselves.

Their date is pretty dull. They talk about traveling and that's about it.

You know what's strange about these dates? They're only an inning but the show feels twice as long.

Jason Chin is our next date. A thirty year old optometrist from Boston.



Want to know how boring the date with Jason was?

They fast forwarded through it. NESN, you heartless bitch! That's just mean.

Number four is Mike DeMello. And Mike is one seriously jacked cement finisher from Westport.



Mike, if you happen to be reading this, I notice that you're secretly attracted to dark haired, thick hipped women.

My email address is on the left.

Kendra's caught a little off guard because she thought she was only meeting three guys but recovers when she finds out they have something in common.

They've both been sprayed with Mace.

Who says romance is dead?

And just like that, Colossus is heading back to the bleachers.

In the five hole is Andy Connors, a teacher from Easton.



I already like Andy because he reminds me of my friend Tracy's husband, Mike. Mike thinks I don't give the Not Lenny Clarke announcer guy enough shit but I'm afraid to mention him because as you may have noticed by the comments, someone takes their Lenny Clarke a little too seriously.

Poor Andy has been sweating up a storm and NESN decides to focus on his underarms. You know what NESN is?



Kendra and Andy have something in common that's even better than being Maced. They both still live at home with their parents!

I think we might have a match!!

The last date is Mark Zimmerman, a musician from Attleboro.



Yeah, I can just see Kendra bringing him back to Mom & Dad's.

Zimmah's just on there to promote his band and his smoking is a deal-breaker so thankfully it's a fast inning.

It's time for Kendra to make her decision. And it's Andy! And anti-climactic!


I've emailed NESN to find out if this is indeed the last episode of the season or series so please come back on Sunday to read our analysis of the Red Sox Nation election and, hopefully, our goodbye to Sox Appeal.

Sox Appeal Episode 7: AARP Edition

We're at a serious disadvantage tonight, kids. Just in time for Rosh Hashanah, NESN has decided to atone for their sins by featuring a cancer surviving military vet who's just looking for love.

Meet Bob Stegmaier.



He's a 62 year old photographer from Chelmsford and is celebrating his ninth cancer-free year after receiving a bone marrow transplant for leukemia. Nothing snarky about that.

His first date is Jann Grutchfield, a 62 year old retired phys-ed teacher from Swansea.



Now, if Jann's last name sounds familiar, it should. One of the dates on the first episode was Hannah Grutchfield. I don't know for certain if the two are related but come on, what are the odds?

Jann thinks there's no possible way that this won't be fun, making it painfully obvious that she's never seen the show.

Bob and Jann exchange greetings and talk about the weather. You know, like people of a certain age are wont to do. Bob tells her how he hasn't been to Fenway in twenty or thirty years because he's a New Yorker (again with the outsourcing!) but he's a recovering Yankees fan that's slowly growing to love the Sox.

Oh, praise Jesus! Things just got a little weird. After Jann tells him that she's been divorced for twenty years, Bob says "In our teens and our twenties, the big question was what are we doing about birth control. Then in the thirties and forties, the big thing, unfortunately, was what about diseases. Now in the fifties and sixties, it's are you certified in CPR."

The good news is that she's certified. Whether she would actually perform it on Bob remains to be seen.

Jann is a "bikeist" who just returned from a bicycle trip through France.

"Do you have buns of steel with all that bicycle riding?"

I'd like to congratulate NESN for their casting of the only war veteran, cancer surviving, recovering Yankees fans dirty old bastard in New England. Well done!

And just as they start talking about bunions, Manny grounds to second to end the 1st.

The second inning starts and Bob and Jann are getting along well, sharing a lobster roll and making plans for a second date.

And then...

"If we happen to hit it off two or three months from now or something, are you still interested in intimacy?"

I....

...I mean...

OK, you know how people always say they just spit whatever they're drinking all over their monitor but they really didn't? I absolutely just did.

I have to give Bob credit, though. It's a much classier way of asking if she'll put out after the early bird special at Anthony's Pier 4.

Jann didn't answer but she doesn't seem bothered by the question either. In fact, as the second inning comes to a close, Jann seems kinda smitten with the dirty lech.

Our next date is 60yr old Jean Madden from Cheshire, CT.




She's a health care professional and also a member of MENSA, which makes you wonder who they're turning down these days.

Bob asks Jean about her life and takes notes on a little pad of paper. Are you getting the same mental image that I am? Bob, sitting in a dark room in his boxers, his face awash in the gray light from the computer monitor, entering his notes into a database. "Mary...65...widowed...likes dancing...hates classical music...won't go down unless you buy her dinner first..."

He's very methodical in his questioning and it feels more like a job interview than a date. Turns out they're both cancer survivors. I wonder if that warrants an asterisk in Bob's database.

Things get a little better in the 4th when Bob shows that there's a lot of old school charm underneath that pharmaceutically assisted erection.. He gives Jean his jacket when she says she's a bit cold and the two of them hold hands across the table. Bob was married once but only for three years. He was a Lt. Colonel in the Air Force and has a master's degree in Physics. Jean loves that kind of stuff so she's thrilled. They're really a cute couple.

Then...

"If, perchance, we date for two or three months, are you still interested in intimacy?"

And Jean can't answer "yes" fast enough as the fourth inning ends.

Dude.

Not Lenny Clarke brings up a good point, which makes that two weeks in a row. And let me just state for the record that I know the narrator is not actually Lenny Clarke. Lenny is off somewhere in Hollywood, filming his next canceled TV show. Anyway, NLC says that maybe after almost fifty years of dating, Bob knows something we don't. It's possible.

Bad news. The preview for next week's episode didn't involve the words "series finale".

Our last date is Barbara Cummings, a nurse from Lawrence, MA. Oh good! She'll be certified in CPR!

I'm going to resist the easy joke about the last name.




Barbara's a little minx. She sits down next to Bob and before he can get halfway through his list of questions, she has him up dancing. When they sit back down, they talk about their educations and when he mentions his physics degree, she asks him about the string theory.

"Oh, I love it! Pull my string, lady! Pull my string!"

I'm officially uncomfortable.

Barbara has a tiny little diamond stud in her nose.

"Where else do you have piercings?"

I'm officially nauseous.

"Would you like to do this again?"

Oh dear...here we go...

"I'm not pushing something on you. Just for fun's sake, if we do spend some time together, a month or two or three from now, are you still interested in intimacy?"

"Oh yes!!"

Mental.Image.Hell.

The 6th is over, Bob helps Barbara with her jacket, and as she's leaving, she tells the crew that she's thinks she'll be the one.


It's time for Bob to make his decision. Tell me the truth. Would you be at all surprised if he held up this poster?




He picks Barbara and she races back to the right field roof to pull Bob's string. Jann doesn't seem too disappointed and Jean gets over her heartache by sucking face with a guy in the bleachers.

I shit you not.


*****

Check back over the weekend for our analysis of the final ten Red Sox Nation presidential candidates.