Laaaaame

Red Sox vs. Yankees = Lame? According to Spike TV it is. Spike TV produces such amazing shows as 1000 Ways to Die, Horsepower TV and Manswers, so you be the judge. I'll admit that sometimes the media coverage and the "do or die" attitude facing every April game between the two can get old, but to call the clashing of the titans lame? Oh Spike TV, you silly, silly tv network. Crap, it's 12:30, Fast Machines with Funk Master Flex is on!!!

Tim Wakefield has something to tell you

Tim Wakefield wants to start. Tim Wakefield thinks he deserves it because he's put in the man hours beyond anyone else in the entire universe. Are you going to tell a guy that most likely has a dozen of those killing things hanging up in his "game room" that he is the odd man out? That he has yet again been given the short stick? That he's too old/weak/injury prone/full of bloodlust to be given the ball every 5 days? I'm not going to tell him. Feel free though. I heard he's at home... cleaning some sharp things in his game room.

Will Forte + Peyton Manning = Comedy Gold

Peyton Manning isn't my most favorite person in the world. But I'll be damned if this isn't one of the funnier SNL sketches ever. The cast members trying to stop laughing in the background is almost as funny as the dancing.

Which sounds worse?

When people try to sing along to AC/DC and hit those Bon Scott/Brian Johnson growling notes, or the high pitched scream of Axl Rose of Guns N' Roses that turns a good hearted karaoke session into an earmuff event?

I'm going to go with AC/DC because Bon/Brian blow Axl out of the water, tight biker shorts or not.

No baseball today. My apologies.

More McGwire

Ugh, another long drive to Pittsburgh. At least I got my tunes. Yeaaahaaa-ahyeaahhhaaahh, it's a party in the U-S-A. Hands up... crap, I'm almost out of gas. Guess I'll turn off here in ::squints:: Transylvannia, Pennsylvania? Whatever, I just hope they have full serve.












'Ello Meester Mark McGwire. 'Ow are you tonight?










I'm good captain cape. Fill'er up, I got some young impressionable minds I need to go flood with my extensive knowledge on how to stay healthy for extended periods of time when others can not.











Of course Meester Mark McGwire. I shall, as you say, "top eet off."










That's great slick. Quicker the better, like I said I'm in a hurry.











It's been a long time since we've had a customer around here, we're all so. hungry.










Yup, money makes a man hungry. Even a pale man like yourself. Yup. Hungry money alright.











That is eenough small talk Meester Mark McGwire, it is time.










Good, this thing is taking forever to fill... what the hell are you doing? Get off me you sicko.











Oh, I will Meester Mark McGwire, once I take a bite out of... what's this sh*t? Where's your neck. This looks like a cross between a pastrami sandwich and a bulldogs a**hole. Ugh, yuck, and it tastes like the bulldog and I don't think I even have taste buds. You have to be kidding, I can't find one good spot, there's flaps of skin cascading down from your jaw like a waterfall.










It's natural, happens to a lot of ex-home run stars.











Look, few years ago we got a hold of Bonds for a half hour and his head had enough blood in it to last my whole family for 2 months. This sh*t ain't right. Get the hell out of here.










Umm, did you at least put any gas in the car?











No, you jerkass. Go down the street, maybe the werewolf will sell you some although I doubt it because he's not going to want to have that neck flap stuck in his teeth either.

Name the Baby

No, not an actual baby, but that guy. Big Baby Davis wants to shed his baby image so we need some ideas for a new nickname. Since my creative juices aren't exactly flowing this morning, leave your idea in the comment section.

Slightly above average sized for a basketball player and childlike Davis?

Rotund Glen?

Pants on the Ground Davis?

Pudgy KG Davis?

By the way is it just me, or is that picture creepy as hell?

Glen: Sure, I'll lay down for you photo taking man. Let me just kick my heels up annnnnnd here's my smile!

Photographer: Wow, we just wanted a picture of you with the trophy. I'm not going to be able to sleep for weeks now.

A common mistake

Yo, Mikey, where's your sister? The chick with glasses?

Who the hell are you?











It's me, Boner!











What the? I don't know anyone named "Boner".











Mikey, it's me?!?! Remember? We grew up together. You're a smooth talking curly haired teen that can just flash his smile and get away with burning down the town library.











I think you mean this guy.











Hey Bone!












Ohhhhhh. Kirk. My bad.











Yeah. This makes no sense.











You're telling me.

Big day for football

Of course not around here, because no one in their right mind in New England is a Jets or Colts fan. However, the rest of the country is probably pretty excited about the touchdowns and field goals that go down today. The one thing that does interest me in the AFC game is the fact that those stupid Jets backed into the playoffs when the Colts laid down for them a few weeks ago and now they meet again. Speaking in terms of revenge and irony, the Colts are doomed. They let these jerkasses into the playoffs and now they have to deal with them and fatty Rex Ryan and I don't see it being pretty for the Colts.

On the other side of the league, Saints vs Vikes, who gives a sh*t. Favrererevre being old is no longer a story line and I don't see the Saints as a threat to win it all.

I know I've said a million times, I'm not a football guy, and I'm not, I am however a fantasy football guy which roughly translates into me being able to make some blind predictions like those above. Baseball, where are you???

January blues

Yup, we're knee deep in January, aka the most boring baseball month of the year. A lot of deals were done back before the holidays and most moves made between then and spring training are just purely for roster depth and for more boring baseball terms like that. Oh yes, that's January for you. Don't worry everyone, only 73 more days til opening day and next month the truck leaves, pitchers and catchers report for some pre-season grabass and then the awesomely meaningless spring training games start. Hey, it's baseball so I'll take it. So just hold one everybody, we're getting there. It's a slow, painful, snowy road but we're getting there.

Dance party Senator-style

I give you, Scott Brown, the new Massachusetts State Senator. I feel like he'll bring something to Washington, even if that something is horrible techno music.

My own little Fenway

It was bad enough as a kid that we totally wrecked my mother's lawn with our wiffle ball antics by laying down sand for our foul lines and batters boxes by scooping out the neighbors sandbox, but I think I pushed her too far when I went and bought a gallon of green paint and offered to paint her garage "Fenway Green" so we'd have our own little Green Monster in the front yard. Needless to say, a single green wall on a white garage wasn't my dear old Mom's idea of bumping up the re-sale value.

Now that I'm a little older and slightly wiser (debatable) I was thinking of approaching her with the idea of re-seeding her lawn with this sweet Fenway Grass seed to again make the front yard seem more Yawkey-ish. Of course over the last 20 years some trees have grown, the house and garage have been painted (not green) and there's a flower bed where first base used to be so it won't have the same feel like it once did but you can't ignore the fact that there's still no grass where the right handed batter's box was. That's a sign that this needs to happen. That or my mom still takes fools out in wiffle ball in the front yard. Who knows?

Alert, all math nerds!

Remember that show Square One? It was an 80's kids' TV show that put a clever, comical spin on math with skits and such. Anyways, if I learned anything from that show, it was how to apply math to normal everyday situations in totally ludicrous fashion. So, as an example, lets take that whacky Jonathan Papelbon and his fancy new contract...

Last year, Papelbon made $6.25 million. This year, thanks to a hefty raise, he will make $9.35 million. Dust off the calculator...
$9.35mil - $6.25mil = $3.10mil.
Therefore, a raise of $3.10 million.


Now, summing the population totals of the New England states, here, here, here, here, here and here, which assumes that everybody in that region is a Red Sox fan, and for those commi bastards that aren't, we can stupidly assume that there is a Red Sox fan elsewhere in the country to take their place. And of course, we can only take 1/3 of Connecticut's numbers, because, as we all know, people from Connecticut are only a third of a regular person. So...
6,593,587 + 1,324,575 + 621,760 + 1,318,301 + 1,053,209 + 1/3(3,518,288)=
12,084,194.6666667
So, there are 12,084,194 2/3 Red Sox fans. And to get rid of that pesky repeating .667 decimal, I'll make up a person, Eduardo Cheese, who lives in Connecticut...
12,084,194 2/3 + 1/3 person = 12,084,195 Red Sox fans.


Now, since Papelbon is a guy who only pitches one inning per game, he clearly doesn't deserve any of that extra money he got in his raise. I propose that he distribute the extra money to Red Sox fans as reparations for past and future damages. More math...
$3,100,000 raise / 12,084,195 Red Sox fans = $0.25653343.
So every Red Sox fan gets a quarter.


Now, these days, even in a recession, a quarter won't buy you much. Not even a try at getting a stuffed animal for the lady friend at a carnival. However, go down to your local pharmacy, and charm your way into buying just 25 cents worth of aspirin. A box of 200-count Advil costs $15.49...
15.49 / 200 tablets = $0.07745 / tablet
$0.07745 x 3 = $0.23235
So with about 2 cents left to spare, you can buy 3 aspirin.


Papelbon will blow at least 3 saves next season. Use your aspirin wisely.

Why Hello Mr. Papelbon

Love him, hate him, dance with him, black out after bar hopping with him, whatever you think of Paps, he's back for another year. The dancing machine and the Sox didn't even go to arbitration. In case you have any questions about what arbitration really is, check out my explanation the other day. Like a rich athlete accused of some crime in which a normal person would do serious time, the two sides settled the matter "out of court". So, welcome back Paps.

My prediction for Paps in 2010: 42 saves, 1.49 ERA, 20 stupid comments, 2 beer boxes worn on his head, 9 references to his contract next year and 14 fist pumps. The fist pumps are going to be tough to keep track of.

How the Jason Bay deal DIDN'T go down

So, P-Gam is reporting that The Sox and Jason Bay were in agreement mid-season last year for a 4-year, $80M deal but then things went south when a physical regarding his bum knees came up and as we all know, Bay is now a Met. For those of you not in the loop as much as I am privileged to be, here is how it went down.

Theo: Jason, this is great. We're really happy we can get this thing worked out now in July rather than waiting til this winter.
Jason: Me too. It will be nice to spend the next 4 years here in Boston.
Theo: Sweet. Now we'll just finish up the physical and we're good to go.
Jason: Oh. Ok. Well, why don't I finish signing the contract first, then we can do the physical.
Theo: Hmm. I won't try to read too deep into that. Why don't you just hop up here on the table and we'll check out your HOLY F*CKING CHRIST YOU ONLY HAVE ONE LEG!!
Jason: What are you talking about?
Theo: Your leg? Like, not plural, I mean, as in one, because you only have one. Well, like one and a quarter with that stub thing. When did this happen?
Jason: Well, you've all just been so darn kind to me since last year, remember the whole "Bay State" thing and people really liked me sooooo no one really double checked the physical annnnnd I've always been missing a leg. The Pirates kind of embraced it.
Theo: Well f*ck me this changes things.
Jason: Oh. How so?
Theo: Well, for one it explains the poor defense thing, and there's no way we offer you 4 years if you only have one leg.
Jason: I see.
Theo: Two years max.
Jason: HA! No way. I'm a top tier free agent. This is my pay day. How is the Met's outfield looking these days anyways?

So it was more of a leg thing than a knee thing, but Gammy didn't have the inside scoop quite like we did.

My Coakley observation

Besides that whole "Schilling is a Yankee fan" thing that I'm sure she regrets, she should also regret not listening to me. Not to mention I'm a NH resident.

::phone rings::
Me: (after seeing Martha Coakley on the caller ID) MARTHA!!! Is that you?
Martha Coakley: Hello. This is Martha Coakley.
Me: YES! I knew you'd call. Look, Martha that Schilling thing...
MC: I know you're probably very busy but I'd like a minute of your time.
Me: I know, and I'd like a minute of yours. See, when you said Schilling was a ...
MC: I'd like to talk to you about the upcoming election.
Me: And I'd like to talk to you about Curt Schill...
MC: Please, vote for me.
Me: Martha, I feel this conversation is a little one sid...
MC: Tuesday, January 19th.
Me: God damnit, Martha!!! Listen to me...
MC: Again, thank you for your time and I know I can count on you tomorrow.
Me: Oh, you can count on me alright you old windbag.

My conclusion, Martha Coakley is a very pushy person who doesn't even listen to you when you're trying to tell her how she alienated hundreds of thousands of Red Sox fans.

Wintry Mix: What a way to start a week

For those of you in the general Boston/New Hampshire area, there is freezing diarrhea coming down from the sky right now. That's the best way to explain this "wintry mix" stuff. Is it just me, or did the meteorologists in the North East make up the term "wintry mix" 2 years ago or so? I never remember anyone referencing it prior to last year when we got hit with that icy wintry mix crap that knocked my power out for 6 days, but now every storm has the chance to turn into a "wintry mix". What happened to snow? Just snow. No rain before that freezes and cakes or no solid layer of ice on top of the snow, just God damn snow.

Ok, let's try and find some positives here. Hmmm. I'm out of ideas. I'll think of something later today.

More like a phantom punch

This article can explain it and you can see it here (around 0:48), but Jose Offerman has again attempted to turn baseball into a full contact sport and this time he wasn't even technically supposed to be on the field.

Offerman, the manager of the Licey Tigers, appeared to punch first base umpire Daniel Rayburn with a right hook during an argument in a contest against the Cibao Giants.

Now if you watch the video it looks like a "Phantom Punch". Oh, the punch was there, but it appears to kind of swoosh past the ump and then he fakes it like a soccer player.

My guess is that Offerman has some unresolved issues with that call back in '99 and they're resurfacing every 5 years or so. If I was Chuck Knoblauch I'd probably make sure my front door is securely locked and my daughter knows how to use a stun gun.

Hello, Boss? I'd like more money

Me: Hey boss, I'd like more money.
Boss: I guess knocking is a thing of the past? Anyways, come in. Now what are you saying, you want a raise?
Me: Sorry... and I wouldn't call it a "raise". See, I think last year when I really engineered the sh*t out of that big project and we finished so far under budget, well I think I deserve a little somethin-somethin.
Boss: So, a raise? And put your pants back on.
Me: Sorry. I've got this guy. Let's call him, for lack of a better term, my agent. He's going to come in with me tomorrow and we'll just name what we think my salary should be next year.
Boss: So you and your agent, you're going to tell me what your raise should be?
Me: Eh, pretty much. You should have a company representative present too, so you can propose what you think I should be making.
Boss: This seems like a lot of work.
Me: Well, this is how it works in the majors. It's called Salary Arbitration.
Boss: Look, I know you have this whole "Educated Cheese" blog thing going on...
Me: ...crap...
Boss: ... and you think you're hot sh*t, but this is kind of ridiculous. How about this: I'll go back to work, you'll keep doing your "Cheese" thing and we'll just kind of forget any of this happened.
Me: So, no agent?
Boss: No agents. See you Monday.

That folks, is how arbitration works... in my mind at least. Speaking of it, there's a few Sox players that are up for it this year. Not that I'd mind having Tim Lincecum on our side, but let's just say he really engineered the sh*t out of stuff last year and he's up for a BIG raise.

I have been invited to Spring Training

I think it's called a "non-roster invitee". This, from an official press release (email), from the Boston Red Sox:

Hello Boston Red Sox.com subscriber, you are officially invited to Spring Training with the Boston Red Sox! Play in the sun with the team and experience what spring training is really like down in Ft. Myers. For a nominal fee of (Let's call it a half year of mortgage payments) you can be at the games just like the pros.

We hope to see you down in sunny Florida when the Red Sox take the field for the first time in 2010.

See, told you. It's always been a dream of mine to play for the Boston Red Sox, but I thought they were supposed to pay me, not the other way around. I think this engineering gig has kind of run it's course. It's time for something new.

I've taken the liberty of creating my own baseball card. It's a 1987 Topps in case you didn't recognize the sweet wooden border.

Well Oki then

The Okster is coming back for another year of no-looking deliveries and maybe even another year of showing up Dice-K. Not that Dice has been a total disappointment, he did that have 18 win season, but for the most part Oki has been a lot more dependable than the guy that came packaged with. My baseball sources tell me having a lefty in the 'pen is a good thing and my baseball salary sources tell me that paying less then $3M for a guy like Oki is "good value".

All "value" aside I've always liked Oki. Starters have a few innings to prove themselves and work out of jams but relievers have to perform right away usually in tight spots and I've never had that nervous "hurl everything I ate today" feeling when he comes trotting in. As a tribute to the Ok, tomorrow I'm going to do everything in a "no-look" fashion. We'll have to wait and see how getting to work goes.

The Late Nite Wars

Notice the spelling on "nite". That's what the kids call "being with it". Just so you know.

I'm not going to pretend (That's a lie, we all know pretending is what I do at least 80% of the time to make up for stuff I don't know) to know what I'm talking about when it comes to the late nite wars between Leno and Conan because truth be told I'm passed out most nights by 10 anyways. However, back in my youth when the chicken finger devouring machine I call a body only required 15-20 minutes of sleep every night I would always stay up for Conan, and based on my previous knowledge (and his Boston roots) it's pretty obvious that Leno is being a chooch about this whole thing.

In general the only positive thing that Leno even brings to the table is the fact that anyone who chooses to do an impression of his high pitched balls-not-dropped-yet voice is usually able to hit it dead on by simply pushing on one testicle just hard enough, therefore inducing laughter in the room. Jay, I credit you with that humor. While a good ball push always brings out a strong larf among fellow party goers, trying to sound like any other late night host doesn't require someone to put their reproductive organs (checking to make sure that's atomically correct, ok we're good) at risk. Jay, I dis-credit that same humor previously handed out.

I am biased towards Conan? Hell yes. Are my reasons just? Eh, they don't really have to be, and I'm ok with that.

And please, please, be careful with the ball push. Don't let Leno ruin your night even when he's not on TV.

Get FIRED UP!!!

The only thing it's missing is Patches O'Houlahan saying "We're going to pecker slap those Globo-Gym Bastards" or the entire Lance Armstrong cameo.

And yes, this is what Red Sox baseball has come to now.

A few countdowns to keep you occupied

Ok people, I think we've seen all there is for moves this off-season. Not that it was slow by any means, but it didn't exactly produce "the" big bat like we thought was coming down the pipe. We have to remember though that preventing runs is just as important as scoring them... although it's far less exciting. Shame, because that's what we're looking for: Excitement. We want a team that is fun to get drunk and yell for, not get drunk and yell at. There's a big difference.

To keep everyone busy though here are some dates that we can look forward to:

• Friday, February 12th - Truck day. That's the first biggie and it's less than a month away. Does any other city in the country really gather around their home park to watch the trucks head south? For some reason I doubt it.
• Thursday, February 18th - Pitchers and catchers report. Will Josh Beckett show up looking like a Biggest Loser contestant again? Will both Dice-K's legs be working properly? And most importantly, what are the chances we will be able to catch a glimpse of Heidi in a bikini down in Ft. Myers? I'd like to say: No, yes and yes if there's a God.
• March 1st - The college games. While there really isn't any excitement for a lot of fans on this one it has to be pretty awesome to be a BC or NEU player that will probably never make it to the majors get a shot to hit off the likes of Beckett, Lester, etc.
• Sunday, April 4th - Opening Day. And so it begins, and against The Yankees of all teams. By my rough count it's about 80 days away still. Hmm, why does that sound so much longer than just saying 2 1/2 months.

Yup, so there it is. Damn, I'm going to need a lot of "Always Sunny" re-runs to make it through February.

This is not wiffle ball.

While searching for more baseball than a weak Mark McGwire confession can offer me, I turned my lonely eyes to NESN where I found some people playing some serious wiffle ball. I've caught bits and pieces of The Yard before but tonight I got to see pretty much the whole thing and it was disturbing on a bunch of levels.

Saying this as a straight guy, they do some crazy sh*t with those balls. Back in the day in my front yard you could throw a curve, a slider and some variation of a combination we commonly called "The Diesel". Maybe now there are more holes in the ball or half these guys are double jointed because they throw some rising, dropping, bending, double curve, split finger somethings. It's crazy. It looks like the mound is about 12 feet away from the plate and they play on these mini fields, sometimes replicas of larger ones. One of the parts of the documentary that bothered me was what is commonly referred to as the "frat boy" anger that these guys play with which kind of made me hope I didn't play wiffle ball like that 20 years ago. Chances are since I had no clue what a "frat" was at 8 years old I'm guessing I didn't act quite like that.

Also, I couldn't even dream of hitting one of their crazy pitches.

I'm not here to talk about the past... Ah what the hell.

Odd that the day I decide to mention The Simpson's version of Mark McGwire, the real one comes out and admits to using steroids for ohhhh a decade. I know, give me your surprised face on that one. Remember when he originally tried to fool everyone by leaving empty Creatine and Andro containers hanging around his locker and blaming his massive forearms simply on a little extra powder in his post-workout protein shake? That was cool. It never really worked though. Then remember when he ran away from the game, only showing up "not to talk about the past" when Congress started taking a first class interest in baseball instead of the state of the economy? More coolness.

Two guesses as to why he finally admits to this now: 1) When he got his new gig in St. Louis as the hitting coach he also got this weird twitch in his head. Turns out it was his conscious and he realized he shouldn't be putting all those innocent Cardinals players through the constant pounding of steroid questions that the media would inevitably reign down upon them come spring training. And B) He's still hanging on in the Hall of Fame voting and now with the admission out for all to see, and the realization that even more roid ragers will be coming up on the ballot soon, he probably assumes this can only help him out into being enshrined into the Coop.

Oh well, yet another tainted player/season/Bash Brother. Oh Mac, what are we going to do with you?

*** Oh sweet Jesus it is painful to watch McGwire's interview with Costas right now on MLB TV. Amazingly he's more or less still denying that he took steroids for performance reasons and that he did it just for his "health". Why come all this way and STILL deny it? Giggle, McGwire just said "I prefer the oral" when asked about which steroids he took.***

The Simpsons are 20 years old

Incase you weren't knee deep in vomit last night after the Pats got their arses kicked, Fox had some legit programming on when they honored The Simpsons for being on the air for 20 years. I've been a huge Simpsons nerd for years and the fact that a cartoon on in prime time about a family that never ages a single day can last for 20 years is just insane. I'll admit over the last few years that the show isn't what it was during the late 90s and early 2000s, but it's one of the only shows I can still watch just about any re-run of even though I know 90% of the episodes line for line.

I realize The Simspons don't directly relate to sports, but I'll do my best to tie in my top five Simpsons sports moments off the top of my head.

#5 - Bart and Krusty win the Super Bowl - From one of early "TreeHouse of Horror" episodes Bart is in mid dream of him and Krusty in the Super Bowl. "It's your basic Statue of Liberty play with one twist: you throw it to me! Knute Rockne called it the forward pass."

#4 - In one of the best episodes of all time when Homer goes to work for Hank Scorpio (Hammock district, pure gold), at the end Hank gets Homer a gift for all his help. Rather than get the Dallas Cowboys, like Homer wanted, Hank gives him the Broncos.

Marge: I think owning the Denver Broncos is pretty good.
Homer: (disheartened) Yeah, yeah.
Marge: Well, explain to me why it isn't.
Homer: (sighs) You just don't understand football, Marge.

#3 - When Homer becomes the coach of Bart's pop-warner football team and makes Bart the star QB and cuts just about everyone else. The best part of the episode is the closing credits when he reads off the people on the credits telling them they are cut.

#2 - DINGERS!!! Bart was diagnosed with ADD and is prescribed "Focusin", a drug to remedy his problems. At the end Mark McGwire makes a cameo.

Big Mac: Do you want to know the terrifying truth, or do you want to see me sock a few dingers?
Crowd: Dingers! Dingers!

#1 - Homer at the Bat. This one goes way back, it aired 18 years ago. Wow we're all getting old. With an All-Star (literally) baseball cast it was probably one of the coolest things for a then 10 year old kid to see on TV. Then add in the fact that Wade Boggs and Roger Clemens were on it and this episode will always go down as one of my all time favorites. Mattingly shaving most of his head to get rid of this sideburns. Ken Griffey Jr "There's a party in my mouth and everyone's invited." Just awesome stuff.

20 years. How many more can they possibly do?

What was that?

Bill? Tom? Randy? Anyone? That was a good old fashioned taint-handing, except this time the Patriots weren't doing the handing. Or maybe they were? Not sure which way the taint gets passed in this case. Anyways, the Pats got their butts kicked. Big time. In every way possible. For example, the first play from scrimmage. For more examples, all those crappy passes that Brady threw... to the other team. Or how about the fact that Joe Flacco only threw the ball 10 times??!?! TEN! The run was coming, the Pats just couldn't stop it to save their lives.

So, it's an early exit for the Pats which means after 2 or 3 days of pure Pat-bashing on the radio and everywhere else we can all move directly into full on Red Sox action. Patriots = winter and Red Sox = summer, and I'm all about the summer getting here ASAP, so everything is working itself out just fine in my book.

So, Bill Hall

Besides having the most boring name in the entire world, what else is there to say about Bill Hall? Well, I'm not really sure. That's him up there. Not the guy on the left, or the blonde, but the guy on the right ferociously gripping the shoulder of the blonde. That's Bill Hall, and that's just about all I know about him.

On to more important things. I heard "Love Isn't Always on Time" today on the radio and was then forced (by myself) to listen to said song many, MANY times while sitting at home today. Sadly, my horrible taste in music is more interesting than anything else I can come up with about Bill Hall. No good Hall/Foreigner connection. Sorry. Umm, Go Pats!!!? Sure.

Did you know?

For God knows how long now I've started every morning with Sportscenter. I've been with it through the good years; aka the Kilborn, Patrick and Olberman era. The bad years with Stewart "Boo-ya" Scott and now into this era that is void of any distinct personalities except the occasional Chris Berman segment. Not that we need any more "Swami" in our lives, but at least he's got his own shtick. Anyways, what ever happened to the ending of the show? The good ol "Did You Know?". Those odd days in February and March when all there is talk about is boring NHL and NBA games the "DYK?" was the best part of the show. Oh man, then if you knew the answer or if it was about your home team, well that was just the bees knees. Now what do we get? A funny little "adios"? No, we get a smooth pan out from the camera that shows us a little more of the set where all we can do is check to see if anyone is really wearing pants. Thanks ESPN. We go from knowledgeable sports trivia to pant checking. Dan Patrick really did take the best part of ESPN with him.

What me and my brain are thinking.

We (my brain and I) always have a hard time getting along and doing even the most menial daily tasks are quite the chore. I want to brush my teeth, but my brain is all about combing my hair first. My brain wants eggs in the morning but I want oatmeal. We just can not find common ground on anything. So this makes these comments by Jonathan Papelbon even more surprising, and to be honest makes me a little jealous. When asked (we can only assume he was asked and didn't call ESPN directly) about his upcoming arbitration and what he should be paid:

"Heck yeah, as far as what me and my brain are thinking,'' Papelbon said, "but I haven't even sat down with my agents [Seth and Sam Levinson] yet. We don't even have a number in place. There haven't been any discussions between me and the Red Sox and my agents at all.''

From there Paps uses the phrase "cat and mouse" about 11 times when referencing himself and the Sox, himself and Bard, his agents and the Sox, and anyone else him and his brain could agree on talking about at that moment.

I'm going to spin the positive on this one like this: You know what it means when you start reading quotes about Papelbon bitching about his contract? That means baseball is coming soon. Truck day next month, spring training soon after that. Come on baseball. Come on back.

Matt Holliday more or less won the lottery

Being the average working man that I am, I take my honest wage as it comes and try not to think about what would have happened if my parents sent me to Mike Greenwell's summer baseball camp back in 4th grade or the amazing things that could have came from taking ground balls with Jody Reed at his baseball extravaganza get-away. Pretty much I've come to terms that pro athletes make insane amounts of money and I don't. It's ok, I'm over it. So when the Cardinals signed Matt Holliday to a $120 Million dollar contract I figured that's just baseball being baseball. Then SI said something along the lines of:

The St. Louis Cardinals will be paying Matt Holliday through 2029 under the $120 million, seven-year contract that is likely to be finalized Thursday. Holliday will get $17 million a season in salary, but $2 million a year will be deferred without interest... Holliday's contract includes a $17 million team option for 2017 with a $1 million buyout, and the Cardinals must decide whether to exercise it within five days of the end of the 2016 World Series. The option would become guaranteed if Holliday finishes among the top 10 in 2016 NL MVP voting. Depending on whether the option is exercised, Holliday will receive $1.4 million or $1.6 million each July 15 from 2020 until 2029.

So, trusty calculator by my side, if Holliday is 30 now (in a week) that means that he will be able to celebrate his 49th birthday knowing that 6 months later he may get a big fat check for over $1 Million. Remember how I just said I'm no longer bitter than I'm not a professional athlete making millions of dollars a year? I take that back. I am very bitter. On July 15th 2029 I'll be 48. You know what that means? That means St. Louis missed out on me because I'll be one year younger. Take that jerks.

I hate stats

More specifically, I hate stat "people". Those people who push their stats on others. Those people that think good old stats like RBIs, ERA and fielding percentage are no longer valid because we have things like WAR, UZR, OPS and CHONE. Every time you open your mouth with a clearly ungrounded statement like "I like Jacoby Ellsbury" someone has to come back with how his WAR is far below the league average, his OPS is lackluster at best and his UZR fielding rating lists him just above Wily Mo Pena and just below a three legged dog. This then makes your innocent "I like Jacoby Ellsbury" comment come off as "I lick windows" because some stat guy wants to flex his numerical stat muscles and questions your "fan-dom".

I'll tell you one thing: stats are flawed. All of them. The more flawed they are, the more interpolating them effs things up even more. To think you can divide a field up into sections and determine who can get to what ball and who does it better is founded on the same principles as the ones that brought us every Hugh Grant movie ever made, and that is not a world I want to live in. It makes every Joe Shmo out there think they are Bill James. Sorry for the name drop. It's kind of how starting a lame Red Sox blog makes you think that people want to hear what you think.... ohhhh, self burn.

I'll tell you another thing: I like Jacoby Ellsbury.

The ole Switcheroo

It's been made official. Well as official as the internet can be. Jacoby Ellsbury will be sliding over to left field and Mike Cameron will be the new center fielder. That's according to multiple reports, and if there's been multiple, it must be true.

Time for my "baseball fan vs baseball stat guy" debate that I tend to always bring up. A stat guy is going to tell you Cameron is the better fielder with the better arm and the better UZR fielding rating. All this is true as far as I can tell from multiple clicks to various sites with "graph" and "stat" in their titles'. It's what people in the biz (or so I'm told) call "research". The way I see it, you're taking a guy, Ellsbury, that is fast as sh*t and can cover tons of ground and moving him to a part of the field with no ground to cover (in Fenway at least). I don't buy into the UZR rating that says Ells is a poor fielder. Point blank, no matter what kind of break or how bad he supposedly is at reading the ball off the bat, the dude can cover some serious ground and get to balls that the 37 year old Cameron will not be able to get to. Also, with that huge Green wall out in left, it helps to have someone with a strong arm so when those slackers rounding first think they have an easy double you get the LF throwing a strike to 2B to cut him down. So the poorly formed conclusion I'm coming to here is that I value Jacoby's speed over Cameron's overall ability. Like most things baseball, the majority of the Red Sox upper management and I see this issue in different ways, hence the moving of Jacoby. I miss the days that stats were just kind of scoffed at and we all just went by gut feelings, "vibes" and if those couldn't settle the issue then contests of who could eat the most tacos.

You go there! You, over there! Yes, right there!!

We (The Cheese) have been screaming for trades and action and movement all winter and now all of a sudden it's dropped on us like a Prince Fielder Bomb. First there were all these rumors ::gasp:: that Adrian ::double gasp:: Beltre ::ungasp:: was making his way to Boston. All which appear to be true now. Then today there are more rumors (rumor-gasm) that Casey Kotchman is heading to Seattle for a prospect to come back this way. So many moves, so little time. So much awesomeness.

Lately the theme around Yawkey Way has been "How to F*ck over Mike Lowell" and while the Beltre move follows the theme like a well written Back to the Future musical (if there isn't one there should be) the Kotchman ditch doesn't. Assuming they get a prospect that goes to the minors, Lowell becomes the back up 1B/3B/DH who could definitely see a fair share ABs assuming his hip/thumb/murderous rage doesn't get in the way. Usually you don't want to pay $12 Million for a utility/backup guy though, sooooo I'm guessing there's still something else in the works that may have us saying our final good-byes to Mikey.

Adrian Beltre is a Go-Bot

Adrian Beltre is a Go-Bot.

Let me explain...

Its 1986. You've flipped through every toy catalog in detail and compiled the ultimate Christmas List; a list that began back in February. Being the spoiled brat that you are, you're already picturing every item on the list underneath the tree. The weeks whittle away, and before you know it, its Christmas morning. You run downstairs, start ripping apart the tacky wrapping paper your parents picked out and passed it off as Santa's handiwork. Socks. Underwear. A hand-sewn sweater from Aunt Susan. Stuff upon stuff, none of which you need. And with each violent attack on a wrapped present you hope that the #1 item on your wish list will be inside... an authentic Optimus Prime Transformer, complete with the 18-wheel trailer and decals. Oh yeah, the holy grail of toys. The type of toy that turned kids into kleptomaniacs at Child World. But alas, all but one present has been unwrapped, no Optimus Prime yet. And in discouraged fashion, you tear through the final batch of ugly green paper with mistletoe patterns. Whats inside? A Go-Bot... the retarded cousin to the Transformer line. You give a fake smile and thank Santa, but really you just want to fling that ugly rip-off Go-Bot into the snow and convert to Judaism in hopes that the 8 nights of Hanukkah might bring better luck on the Transformer front. Your parents had cheaped out with the Go-Bot instead of splurging for what... $10, $15 more for the kickass Transformer version? Yeah that $15 went towards your college fund, but you probably forgot that $15 of college knowledge anyways... and, most importantly...
OPTIMUS PRIME IS NOW $300 ON EBAY!!!

Anyways, my point?...

Adrian Beltre is the Go-Bot.
Prince Fielder is the Transformer.
Theo and John Henry are your parents.
The $15 difference is the $9 million of dead money going to Julio Lugo next season.
The disappointing Christmas is the 2010 baseball season.
You, the Red Sox fan, are the spoiled kid.
and Marco Scutaro is the ugly hand-sewn sweater from Aunt Susan.