*** Warning: this post contains an unusual--even for me--amount of strong language. Just so you're forewarned.***
ME: You can't possibly be watching the game where you are, can you?
SAM: loud background noise...No?
ME: OK, so let me tell you what just happened.
SAM: loud background noise...*garbled*
ME: So Ozzie Guillen was just screaming at Jose Contreras on the mound...he just totally fell apart and the Sox got the lead and--
SAM: BETH. BETH. HELLO.
ME: Uh. What?
SAM: IT'S KIND OF LIKE A CONCERT OUT HERE. I CAN'T REALLY HEAR YOU. THERE ARE THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE HERE AND THEY'RE ALL IN WIZARD GEAR. YOU CAN TELL ME IN THE CAR TOMORROW.
ME: Aw, but--
SAM: YOU CAN TELL ME IN THE CAR TOMORROW.
MY DAD: Christ, Papi.
ME: My God. He takes years off my life when he flings himself all over the basepaths like that.**
MY DAD: watching the replay Oh, my God, he didn't even make it to second!
ME: I know!
MY DAD: He went into the ground instead of over the ground. Jesus.
ME: Ugh. This game.
MY DAD: I know. It's like pullin' teeth, isn't it?
ME: Did you see Joshie just then?
MY MOM: No, I was in the bathroom and your father was upstairs.
ME: He missed it??
MY MOM: I don't know. Possibly. Why, what happened?
ME: AJ Pierzynski was thrown out trying to stretch a single into a double to get Joshie out of the inning and Joshie went screaming off the mound and yelled "FUCK YOU!" at the guy.
MY MOM: Wow.
ME: Did Dad see it?
MY MOM: Here, you can tell him.
ME: Dad, did you see Joshie just then?
MY DAD: No, what'd he do?
ME: [repeats the story again]
MY DAD: Oh, hang on, they 're replaying it!
Coco fields Pierzynski's hit and wings it back toward second base. Pedroia applies the tag liberally as Pierzynski slides in, out by easily three full feet.
The replay repeats. The throw comes in. The camera swings around to focus on Josh Beckett, turning calmly at first to watch the play, and then as the throw comes in, his face screws itself into a snarl, and then he bounds off the mound and toward the dugout, pointing a finger at Pierzynski and screaming, enunciating clearly for the benefit of the camera: Fuck Yeah! Fuck You! You Asshole!!
My father and I belly laugh together for about a full minute.
MY DAD: still giggling "Fuck you, you asshole!" Ha. Nobody likes Pierzynski.
*To get the full effect of this title, you should imagine it said in the thickest Texas accent possible.
** Please note: it has since been reported that Papi DID hurt himself*** on that play. Remy: "That's a lotta man, you know, to be hittin' the ground."
***Another replay shows Papi directly hitting the ground on his left shoulder AND his left knee. It remains undisclosed which one he hurt. It's impossible to tell from the video which one it was, or if it was (gulp) both. Talk about a total buzzkill.
Update: It's the shoulder. I hate life.
This post is becoming entirely too annotated, but I feel the need to continue updating. Watching Jason Varitek calmly field a muffed bunt for Okajima, watching Jonathan Papelbon beginning to warm up--in other words, watching the vicious machinery at the heart of the Red Sox bullpen go coolly to work on the White Sox, it occurred to me just how powerful this team can seem when things are going right. It feels, when things are going as they should, like a sleeping giant has been awakened. Dr. Jekyll, I presume.
I'm not going to look down my nose at a win, finally, but I wish for the sake of my blood pressure the Sox would pick a personality and stick with it (preferably this one, of course). My father was actually in the park, miserable in the rain last night, and when I saw him tonight he said--still groggy from a night that didn't end until 2 am--that it was some of the worst baseball he's seen played in quite some time. He said he came very close to totally washing his hands of the Red Sox this season, right there and then--it was that depressing.
At the time he was telling me this, we were watching Tito get ejected arguing that JD Drew's home run was in fact a home run, in what I thought was a reasonable way given the circumstances (which were that his team which had not managed to score more than two runs in a few days was owed three goddamn runs, thank you very much, and I was screaming at this point, even if only at the TV). At that point and through the next few innings with the Sox trailing...again...it seemed like that play would be pivotal. I was already composing a mournful essay in my head about bad luck and questioning the makeup of this team, and whether the magic was officially gone.
But then all of the above happened, and since then Ozzie Guillen, now just openly beating Jose Contreras like a rented mule, left him hung out to dry on the mound, storming out twice to scream at him in Spanish, only to return to the dugout without him. Contreras, looking sullen, proceeded to give up a sac fly to Youkilis and a grand slam to Julio Lugo (do not attempt to adjust your sets...) and now it's all smiling Manny-family on the Monster and a 10-3 laugher the way God intended. All of which is wonderful, but I have complete mental whiplash.
What a freakin' game. All of that is not even to mention the filthy fastball Josh put Ji-Jim Thome away on to open the sixth--two innings earlier Thome had spanked that same fastball into the bleachers, so this time Joshie made sure to put a little mustard on it...phew. I'm sure I'm skipping over plenty of other mini-dramas, too, even though this post is now approximately 52 pages long. What a game.
But of course...we've come to expect nothing less from Commander Kickass of the Fuck-Yeah (Fuck You! You Asshole!) Brigade.
Press Conference Report: Teets, when asked what Tim McClellan had said to him after throwing him out: "I don't know. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't in much of a listening mood."