You know, there are worse problems than figuring out exactly how I will be able to make it to playoff games for three different teams. And I don't even want to think about the possible conundrums should any of them meet down the road- that's a problem for Future Texas Gal. For now, I just want to BASK.
Are We Not Generous?
OK, fine, Twins- you can have this home plate on which to score. Just this once. But only because we've already sewn everything up. Otherwise, we totally own this- and all your base are belong to us. Oh, and Dougie Fresh has a gift for you as well- he doesn't use it much anyway.
Fashion Police - Part The Second
Josh Beckett, we have to talk.
We let it go when you groomed your facial hair like a weird topiary- because we certainly can't get on to you for that with Papi and Delcarmen and Youkilis running around the clubhouse. We didn't say anything about the proliferation of random necklaces you pile around your neck- even though one of them is most certainly made of hemp, and therefore just a half step up the lame ladder from a puka shell necklace. We even learned to embrace those silver sunglasses you sport, day and night, because we figured they must be like a security blanket for you (why else would you have them clipped to the front of your shirt for every single postgame press conference... which all take place after dark?).
But so help me god, Joshua Patrick- if this is some kind of SLAP BRACELET you are wearing now, even if the salesguy at Armani told you it was a "cuff bracelet" and "all the rage" and "super hip"... we are going to have to stage a fashion intervention.
Don't try and distract me with your broad chest and massive guns, Josh. Don't try to woo me with that "What Would Waylon Do?" shirt (you know I am a sucker for classic outlaw country, as all good Texans are). If that is indeed a slap bracelet, you have gone TOO FAR.
Rally-licious
So yesterday was RALLY MONDAY in Boston, and several Sox players turned out at the RALLY at City Hall Plaza to fire the crowd up. I call it RALLY MONDAY because it was an MLB-mandated event in certain of the cities of the playoff teams (we had one here in Chicago, they also had them in Cleveland, Philadelphia and, surprisingly, Denver- even though the Rocks had not yet clinched their playoff spot), and they called it RALLY MONDAY every place, so RALLY MONDAY it shall be.
Lameness of the MLB edicts aside, it looks like there was a bunch of fun to be had. Mike Timlin, Jacoby Ellsbury, Kyle Snyder, Javier Lopez and Clay Buchholz all were spiffed out in their finest button downs for the occasions (OK, Kyle is in a polo, but still), and of course Cinco Ocho made an appearance and did a little dance- clothed and sans Bud Light headwear unfortunately.
Victoria Welch (of The Bostonist) was on hand for the festivities and took some lovely photos which she has so kindly allowed me to post here -- so I've got a whole bunch of photos PLUS video of Javier, Clay, Jacoby, Mike & Jonathan fulfilling their PR duties and speaking to the crowd. (You can also read what Victoria wrote about her day.)
First up: Cinco Ocho riles up the "party people" of Boston, and promises that if the Sox win the World Series, he'll "dance all night long". I cannot imagine how he will improve on the AL East celebrations and the jig and dance show.
I'm headed out the door again to do some playoff traveling. I'm in Philly for the Wednesday and Thursday Phillies games, then I'll be in Boston for the Friday Sox game, and then back here to Chicago for the Saturday Cubs game. I'm taking my trust Mac along with me, so if I have the chance I'll definitely post from the road. I also promise to bring back plenty of photos from Fenway.
What are everyone's playoff plans? Anyone else going to be at Fenway for the Wednesday or Friday games? Anyone thinking about heading to L.A.?
Executing Pitches: The Josh Beckett Mantra
Gather round, boys and girls- it's time for Josh Beckett's favorite part of the week... the press conference! Lucky Josh-- since it's playoff time, he'll not only get to do the post-game press conference after Wednesday's Game 1, he also had the pleasure of doing a pre-game press conference today. And boy was he thrilled!
Just look at how excited he is to answer all the reporter's questions! He's so very enthusiastic. I love how he can barely contain his boredom at having to sit through all that- and when he deems a question too moronic to answer, his eyes practically roll out of their sockets, he makes a face like he just ate a lemon, and he gives a cursory two or three word answer. Awesome.
Best part isn't him talking about the ALDS or the Angels or Vlad Guerrero- or even when he talks about "executing pitches" for the 5 bajillionth time this season- it's when someone asks him to name some of the people he said helped him behind-the-scenes to get his 20 wins, and he responds with, "You know what, if I got into naming people, then I'd probably forget somebody and I'd feel like an asshole." Straight faced. Awesome.
Here's unedited video of the whole conference- hey look! the silver sunglasses! what a shocker!:
video courtesy of WBZ
I Am The Phillies' Black Cat
Even though I saw them play 8 times in spring training and 16 times during the regular season with no disastrous results (the team's winning percentage was close to .700 for the games I attended), after going to the Phils-Rocks games yesterday and today at the CBP in Philly, I have come to realization that I am apparently unlucky and/or toxic to the Phillies' postseason.
Either that, or the Phillies pitching sucks. One of the two.
On the plus side, I do have two Phightin Phils rally towels, a sunburn from the ungodly hot sun beating down for two days straight, my scorecard from today's game (where I made increasingly angry side notations in the margins as the game wore on) and a 3/4 empty bottle of Jameson. And a Yankees loss. A Yankees loss always makes things better.
Unfortunately, she can't write right now because she's dead from the awesomeness of tonight's playoff game in Boston. I think she got lost in the beer-drenched, screaming and hollering, hugging with random strangers melee in Fenway after Manny hit a walk-off three-run homer (!!!!) to beat the Angels. All eyewitness reports are that no one made it out of the Park sober tonight, we have to assume she was one of the casualties.
We did receive a random cryptic text message that said:
SQUEEEEPAPYBOOMANNYOMGOMGOMG
I think that means she at least died happy. Very, very happy.
[more tomorrow when I'm sobered up and calmed down a bit- but HOLY COW WHAT A GAME- worth the price of admission for sure]
One For The Ages
Every baseball fan has a special part of their memory bank set aside to remember all their gameday experiences- the places you go, the people you meet, the teams you see duke it out, the great plays you witness on the field. The thrilling victories, the horrendous defeats- it's all part of your history with the game. It's like having your own personal baseball scrapbook- one that's usually opened to the first brand new page for you by a loved one (in my case, my dad) who gives you the gift of love for the game. You add page after page over the years, and build up a hefty tome full of fuzzy memories.
But on occasion, when you're very lucky, you have a chance to be a part of a game experience that is so special, you don't just file it away in your memory bank- it's as though every at-bat, every out, every catch, every pitch is tattooed in sharp relief on that corner of your soul reserved for baseball.
Last night was one of those occasions.
I was fortunate enough to see a lot of great baseball this year, but last night at Fenway, as one of the lucky 37,706 to be a part of that walk-off win... I was able to be a part of something amazing. I was there for the Mother's Day Miracle back in May, and that perhaps is the only other game this year I can possibly compare it to-- except that this was the PLAYOFFS. And that adds a special additional shine to the victory- the need is more urgent, the victory is sweeter.
There were a lot of "moments" last night: J.D. Drew punching out a double to drive in two runs at just the right moment. The Manny pop-up that caused a collective sharp intake of breath from the crowd, "that's got to be an out, it has to be an out, oh wait, thanks for catching that ball kid" that turned into him drawing a walk. Papelbon (who had the Faithful on their feet from the moment the first notes of "Wild Thing" played on the PA) and the defense rallying to shut down the Angels in the eighth after Mike Lowell's error could have derailed the mojo (that Figgins freeze-out was particularly masterful).
But the ninth inning rally was poetry. Lugo's leadoff single was like a shot of adrenaline to a Fenway crowd that was already bouncing on their feet in anticipation. Pedroia's sacrifice grounder to move Lugo around turned the dial up just a touch further. Youkilis's K would normally have been the pinprick that deflated the balloon... but that second out lighting up red on the Green Monster scoreboard just seemed to stoke the fire even more. And when Napoli held out his glove to signal the intentional walk for Papi, that building tension exploded into a giant cascade of boos- which then transformed into a rousing and Park-uniting cheer of "MAN-NY! MAN-NY! MAN-NY!"... all before Papi ever stepped out of the batter's box to trot towards first. Everyone knew we were on the precipice of something big, and watching Manny amble towards home plate, he seemed to be the only person who wasn't affected by the big-ness of it all.
And the homerun. My god, the homerun. From the crack of the ball off the bat, it seemed every single person in attendance immediately knew that it was long gone. You've seen the pictures- Manny and the team in the dugout and the stands behind them full of fans, all with our arms raised together. If I can be sappy (even moreso than I've been already), watching it unfold before me was like connecting with the ball and Manny and the team and every single Sox fan there together as we simultaneously realized that victory had been snatched away for Boston. The opening notes of "Dirty Water" blared out of the PA speakers before the ball had ever finished its flight over the Monster. And that tension that had exploded a few moments before in frustration at K-Rod pitching out to Papi then imploded into mass hysteria-- on the field AND in the stands. When Papelbon vaulted over the dugout fence to rush towards Manny as he trotted to first, I thought for sure Papelbon would rip Manny's limbs off in a giant mauling of joy. And in the stands, everyone was bear-hugging and high-fiving random strangers around them, who had all suddenly become compatriots in a once-in-a-lifetime memory.
Sure, there have been bigger comebacks. There have been more miraculous endings. There have been more important games. But I'll be damned if it felt that way last night- walking out of the stands and into the cool air of a beautiful Boston night, it felt like we had just won it all.
