In lieu of a real post, a list of things about this comedy of errors we're calling the 2009 baseball season.

1. Can we just say right here and for the record how much we love a J. Mast?

2. Fair warning: it's Stanley Cup Playoff time, so when there's a conflict between the Red Sox and the Bruins, this is the time of year we pick the Bruins. This is probably a good thing, since the upcoming epic Bruins/Habs showdown is helping us remain calm and quasi-sane through the rough patch the Red Sox are currently stumbling through.

3. You know what we don't love? The WBC. Sure, we were originally on board, if only so we could watch some Cuban ballplayers we might not otherwise see, but we were wrong. So wrong. Mere words can't express how very wrong we were. The WBC is evil.

4. Unpopular opinion time: we don't think the 6 game suspension MLB imposed on Josh Beckett is all that unfair. We're not thrilled with it, obviously, and we dislike the fact that MLB pretty much discounted what the umpiring crew--who were actually there, by the way--determined. But, still, intentionally or not, that ball sailed up toward Abreu's head, and Beckett sure as hell didn't help himself any by charging off the mound to confront him.*

5. Also, hilariously, Dave Magadan claims he found part of the offense's problem, i.e. that they're not taking as many pitches and are getting themselves out. We say "hilariously" because, well, it seems like twelve billion bloggers figured that one out before our illustrious hitting coach.


*No, JB, that does not mean you need to hug it out or anything. Just, you know, maybe--oh, who the hell are we kidding? He'll do it exactly the same way next time, and that is, in part, why we love him.

A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down

We've got two words for all of you out there: don't panic. We've taken care of it. We know, we know, you sat there Sunday too, watching as the Red Sox stranded runner after runner after runner after--well, you get the picture. You yelled at the TV. You slammed your head against things heads are not meant to be slammed against. You threw the remote. You crawled around on the floor looking for the battery that flew out of the back of the remote when it hit the floor. You replaced the battery in the remote. You turned the volume off. You turned the volume back on. All the little superstitions from last season came flying back, and by the time JD Drew struck out to the end the game you were in full post-season crazy mode.

Which is when we decided to take action. We got ice cream.

Okay, you might say, that all sounds well and good for you and your taste buds, but what's that got to do with baseball?

We're glad you asked. You see, we didn't get any old ice cream, we got magically delicious Red Sox ice cream.* Jennifer got a scoop of Rice DICE Kream, which will solve all of our pitching staff's woes: walk rates will plummet, HRA will cease and desist, WHIPs will be smaller than sprinkles. Everyone will strike out at least one batter per inning, and our entire staff will be in contention for the Cy Young. Caroline countered with some Very Berry Ellsbury in order to kick start the offense from the lead-off spot. Just because we're not going to give up anymore runs doesn't mean that we don't need to score any either, and everyone knows that the offense starts with getting the lead-off guy on base. So everyone's OPS is going to skyrocket; people are going to get on base, yes, but more importantly they're going to be driven home. No more trying to convince ourselves, "hey, at least they're getting on base." The Red Sox will score runs, their opponents won't, and we're going to win us some ballgames.

...of course, then the team announced that Jed Lowrie's going to the DL, and we have no real starting shortstop. So, you know, maybe we should panic a little? There's no ice cream for that.

This is gonna require cupcakes.


*There are obviously a lot of flavors they just haven't seen fit to release yet, like Drew's Bruised Georgia Peach. Call us, JP Licks! We will trade concepts for coupons!

MLB Network is ruining our lives.

Late last night or early this morning, in the middle of the ninth inning of a Padres-Brewers game*, the broadcast team started picking out shots of sleepy children clutching blankets in the crowd. The announcers cooed a little over the kids and their "woobies"--something they might snuggle to their chest and never put down for the first four years of their lives.

Then they said, unironically, that closer Heath Bell is the Padres' woobie.

This might be the best use of early childhood nonsense terminology since Bill Belichick's hoodie. Good call, Padres announcers.** However, since the inning was rife with defensive errors and Bell barely escaped blowing the save, we do have one caveat:

Dear Remy and Orsillo,

Raise the bar. Bring the cute. Tell us how John Smoltz is playing the proud parent in a pitching staff re-enactment of Make Way For Ducklings, with Clay Buchholz and Justin Masterson trailing merrily after him.

Just don't tell Jonathan Papelbon he's anyone's woobie. It's too dangerous.


*Yes, we do stay up late watching meaningless spring training jousts between teams that we don't even care about. Thank god there's less than a week to go before the real season starts and we can get our baseball fix in more sane and sanitary ways.

**At least, we think they were the Friars' guys. We could be wrong. It was late, and they kept talking about Tony Gwynn and Tony Gwynn, Jr. until it all sounded like "Malkovich Malkovich."