Prognosis: Dislocated Suck

Admittedly, when you're throwing 82 mph fastballs down the middle to the dreadlocked wonder, there fuckin' better be something wrong with you physically, but isn't the timing on this more than a bit delicious? Mmm, mmm, sweet, sweet tears.

Not a game the Sox were supposed to win last night, which made it all the sweeter. And the savior was ol' pizza face, nemesis of the dream warriors (legitimately good sequel, this one, much some people fetishize the gay one), and, for a night, strikeout machine. 2.2 IP, 4 K, including 2 with the bases loaded of Lester's mess, and all hope of victory in the balance.



The starting pitching hasn't been sharp, but three in a row by any means is an opportunity to get the ship moving. As for Cleveland, it's been time for Betancourt to close for some time now, even if he hasn't been himself so far this year. Goodbye, Joe Borowski. The next close game we actually lose to Cleveland, I'm gonna miss you.

Now That is a fun, fun fact.

From today's Herald...

"...The slugger’s .333 average would be the highest for a left-handed Sox hitter since Mo Vaughn finished at .337 in 1998..."



If you don't know which present-day slugger we're talking about here, but are still a Red Sox fan, I recommend reading a site closer to your intellectual speed. I love David Ortiz and Mo Vaughn for different reasons...and the same reasons. I can only hope that in 2015 I've got another big, slow, powerful quasi-first baseman with bat control to root for. Strongly agnostic as I am, that would be what I call a holy trinity.

Since 2004, I've shed a lot of superstition. I don't deeply believe in signs (or at least don't think we realize how many of these "signs" are actually Yield and Stop signs). I do believe that there is such thing as pure coincidence. But I also remember seeing Johnny Damon hit two home runs off Javy Vazquez in a June 2004 game at the Stadium, otherwise a miserable Derek Lowe experience, especially every time Javy struck a Sox out and the scoreboard flashed "Javy Nice Day." Complete with stupid 60s tie-dyed swirls and, you know, the Wal-Mart mascot. I wanted deeply to stab myself with my scorecard pencil; I settled for breaking it in six and burning the half-finished scorecard later. Goddamn it, Derek.

(I don't wear t-shirts like this anymore, but my is it brilliant.)



The point is game 7 of the 2004 ALCS. Johnny Damon and his two home runs. And, oh, the grand slam that basically shut the door until the Pedro Martinez Experience brought slight unfounded flashbacks of 2003.

You know damn well who threw that fat pitch that still hasn't landed (and never really will) in the happiest corner of my mind's eye. Yeah. Javy nice day to you too. Enjoy your 70s hangover while you're at it.

Is David Ortiz's amazing transformation into a genuine Triple Crown threat a sign? And the 12 years since 1995 thing?

Did this blog's creation make this happen? Does this mean that like 1995, we might (gulp) catch a bit of a whompin' from the Injuns in the ALCS if, new Mo willing, we get there?

No, not really.

But it's still giving me a grin as big as The Ritz.

GAME SIXTY NINE: Cowboy and Indians.

The Texan with the big curveball was doing his thing, and probably coulda kept doing it for another couple innings when the rain came down, the rain came down-down, and when it stopped, the bullpen held the zero in place. Never trust a cowboy amongst [Indian Team Name Franchises]. Beckett even smacked an RBI double to finish his veritable Custer's Revenge on they asses. It wasn't on TBS for some reason, but I GameCast my way through it, and it was fun.



Coco Crisp made the greatest catch ever again, according to Beckett. (My call: not as good as this one.) I shoulda mentioned his weird power surge yesterday, especially since I still want Crisp to thrive as a Sox, and as one of the best defensive centerfielders in baseball, he has a lot more value than people think even when he's struggling. I heard he's batting .350 over his last few games, though. That's also worthwhile.



After tonight's rubber match, it's off to where the pets go for a series with the San Diego Celibates; the West Coast trip concludes in Seattle, where Beckett will be back to take down the Seattle Poseidons. When hopefully I'll have recovered from the spell of Gregg Easterbrook-like team renaming syndrome I'm suffering. No word yet on if the team will continue to the Dulles afterwards.

GAME FIFTY TWO: All Things Must Pass

Restocking the bar and working on some new entrees for our June menu, so we're gonna make this a quick one.

So.

Fun little winning streak while it lasted; actually, I'm just as crestfallen over the end of Youk's multihit streak as the game's results, since sweeping a team like the Injuns just doesn't happen often. Daisuke was amazingly hittable (12 hits in 5.2 innings...yipe), Paul "Cy" Byrd (love that old school windup) was working his game, striking out and walking no one as usual but getting the outs all the same. If Byrd meets the Sox in a playoff series, I'm predicting it's gonna be a little like Jon Lieber in Game 6 of the 2004 ALCS; let's call it one to grow on. Oh, and the slide Mike Lowell pulled off to get second on Barfield (inside of the bag...didn't see that coming, did you, Junior?) was three times dope.

Day off before we start a (yawn) series with a struggling team with no chance at the AL East pennant. You may have heard of them. They used to be called the New York Highlanders. Think they won some championships or something.

And if you must shed a tear, shed it with the natives, for the ecology. They don't make ads like this no more:

GAME FIFTY: Chief Knockainsidetheparkhoma.

After a pleasant Memorial Day weekend vacation whupping the Rangers, the Sox are embroiled in a real matchup and possible ALCS preview with the Cleveland Unspecified Native American Tribe, my favorite fictional ballclub. This one got a little more exciting than was desirable as Papelbon was more Papelmédiocre, and it nearly got Papelmauvais. No need to focus on the negative though. Here's the good stuff.



1) Kevin Youkilis is more than just the (Jewish) Greek God of Walks; he's a Manny Ramirez-esque gangsta (near a 1.000 OPS!) and today he is the Greek God of Inside-The-Park Home Run.



2) Curt Schilling got his splitter back. In a way he hasn't since 2002, he claims. Let's party like it's November 2001.



3) Beckett's back, going for 8-0. Oh, you didn't notice he was gone? Fair enough; it hasn't exactly been a struggle without him. As things are, this is not a .700 team; if Lugo and Drew come around (Crisp would be a mere bonus) + Beckett (+Lester?), this very well may be a .700 club with the resistance the AL East is putting up.



4) Brian Cashman is on the hot seat. I can't say how stupid it would be to fire him now, in the middle of replenishing/rebuilding the Yankees. You don't change horses midstream.



The Indians might have to conjure the ghost of Chief Nokahoma to get out of Boston with a win or two. Whomp 'em, Sox.