Sometimes, Twitter lets you follow dramatic news or intricate political stories as they break. Sometimes, you just get bored sportswriters during rain delays. Obviously, we prefer the latter.
And so it was that Joe Haggerty brought this to our attention:
It's time to think about how to store Red Sox players safely over the offseason.
Haggs suggests bubblewrap, a classic choice. We're sure that armed guards and giant cotton balls have also been considered. But by investing literally minutes of deep thought in this, we've come up with an even better plan: Comas.
Not just any comas, protective comas! You know, the kind that doctors on medical TV shows put patients into while they're busy with A) their romantic entanglements, B) their daddy issues, or C) their thoroughly unbelievable hair? Well, we're not sure they're real, but then we never thought Adrian Beltre could break a man's bones with an I-Dream-of-Jeannie-esque blink. And with Dustin "I'm Not A Midget, I Just Play One On TV" Pedroia back in the boot, well, it's time for a surreal conclusion to a surreal season.
Of course, once we came up with this idea, our minds went immediately to Dr. Gregory House, MD. TV's least ethical doctor is an excellent candidate for practicing nonconsensual sports medicine. Just picture House administering a "routine check-up" to one player at a time, slipping 'em a "B-12 shot"* and then tucking them in for a long winter's nap. Sure, some players might put up more of a fight than others--
PAPELBON: I can't be in no coma, man, I got ducks to shoot!
HOUSE: Hold still, I'm pretty sure you have vasculitis!
PAPELBON: Get that needle away from my booty!
[Cue chase scene set to the tune of Yackety Sax]
--But in the end, we think Theo Epstein would agree: nobody puts patients in comas like House, and comas are definitely the way to go. That way, nobody strains a muscle in the winter while golfing or inhaling a pumpkin pie. Everyone will show up healthy to spring training!
And if anyone sues for malpractice, our lawyer, Bob Loblaw, is on retainer. And he's got a blog, so he must be smart.
*Not one of Roger Clemens's B-12s, and we swear that's all we have to say on that subject.
Showing posts with label injuries. Show all posts
Showing posts with label injuries. Show all posts
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Friday, April 11, 2008
We do not pay royalties to sing Happy Birthday in this house
36 candles on a chocolate cake for our favorite catcher and superhero, Jason Varitek! What does one get for the Cap'n who has everything, if one can't afford to buy him a sixth starter? We hope that the festivities included funny hats, handmade cards from the kids that left Tek covered in glitter all day, and a serenade from Manny Delcarmen's Bullpen Band. And that he came out the other side of all that in good fighting form.
Of course, we all know about the shiny new diamond ring he got this week. That's a hard act to follow.
We watched the opening ceremonies live, watched it on tape again, and might not be done yet. See, we're suckers for all things involving Mr. Johnny Pesky, the score from Jurassic Park, and/or Lord Stanley's Cup**, and we don't understand how anybody could face all three at once without shedding at least one single, perfect tear. Manny kissing Pesky on the cheek was the highlight in terms of unforgettable moments, but almost as sweet was the big smile on Okajima's face as he tried his ring on for the first time. And then of course there was Buckner's triumphant entrance (beautifully described at Cursed to First; if you haven't read that, go now and choke up all over again). We don't see the world through Cardinal-colored glasses, so we really don't get where Deadspin's coming from when they called it awkward. While we agree that most fans didn't have any grudge left against the B-man (see also: our secret Mets fandom), it was obvious that he was really moved by the reception, and it gave fans an opportunity to shower him with love and force the media to bury the hatchet as well.
Though we suppose it was a tiny bit awkward when the red-tailed hawk got an even bigger ovation. But funny-awkward, like The Office was before we stopped ever watching scripted television. Damn you, MLB.TV!
It's been nice to see the bats wake up a little tiny bit against El Tigres; very not nice to see Mike Lowell wounded in battle--now, were we just not paying enough attention in previous Aprils? Is it normal for every team to have at least three people on the disabled list, or is this year special?--and very strange, given the extremely gradual unfolding of this season, to have the first Sox-Yankees series suddenly upon us.***
It seems like only yesterday we were finagling our rotation so that Beckett was guaranteed to pitch against Roger Clemens, a torch-passing moment that's sort of lost its jazz since we learned way too much about Clemens' medical history and his nanny's swimwear. They're pretty much the same teams, though, minus a few pounds and plus a few extra hemp necklaces, and we can't help but wonder what it would be like if Epstein and Cashman were a little crazier and we were watching a Beckett-Santana duel (or a Santana-Wang duel) tonight. There would be blood, and not just on Roger's pants.
Our biggest wish for this particular series, honestly, is that there aren't any rainouts****. We'd prefer to avoid the Morgantastic, McCarverrific hype of a Yankees-Sox doubleheader late in the season. We won't be able to stand it. Our insurance doesn't cover the necessary medication, and they know us at the bars and won't let us run a tab.
*Featuring a new arrangement of the alt-classic "(He Gloved A-Rod In The Face) For Me", comp. B. Arroyo.
**Since we're on the subject, go Bruins (and, Jennifer would like to add, Devils).
***The last time we saw them, it was still called Legends Field, nobody had yet made Jonathan Papelbon try sushi, and we didn't realize that the Orioles were going to take a running leap at leading the division. Abner Doubleday, we're pretty sure, was still alive. And a new invention called "the wheel" was all the rage with the kids...
****The Sox have been lucky thus far with weather, while the Yankees have had drizzle following them around. Is it because Jeter lied when he was seventeen?
Of course, we all know about the shiny new diamond ring he got this week. That's a hard act to follow.
We watched the opening ceremonies live, watched it on tape again, and might not be done yet. See, we're suckers for all things involving Mr. Johnny Pesky, the score from Jurassic Park, and/or Lord Stanley's Cup**, and we don't understand how anybody could face all three at once without shedding at least one single, perfect tear. Manny kissing Pesky on the cheek was the highlight in terms of unforgettable moments, but almost as sweet was the big smile on Okajima's face as he tried his ring on for the first time. And then of course there was Buckner's triumphant entrance (beautifully described at Cursed to First; if you haven't read that, go now and choke up all over again). We don't see the world through Cardinal-colored glasses, so we really don't get where Deadspin's coming from when they called it awkward. While we agree that most fans didn't have any grudge left against the B-man (see also: our secret Mets fandom), it was obvious that he was really moved by the reception, and it gave fans an opportunity to shower him with love and force the media to bury the hatchet as well.
Though we suppose it was a tiny bit awkward when the red-tailed hawk got an even bigger ovation. But funny-awkward, like The Office was before we stopped ever watching scripted television. Damn you, MLB.TV!
It's been nice to see the bats wake up a little tiny bit against El Tigres; very not nice to see Mike Lowell wounded in battle--now, were we just not paying enough attention in previous Aprils? Is it normal for every team to have at least three people on the disabled list, or is this year special?--and very strange, given the extremely gradual unfolding of this season, to have the first Sox-Yankees series suddenly upon us.***
It seems like only yesterday we were finagling our rotation so that Beckett was guaranteed to pitch against Roger Clemens, a torch-passing moment that's sort of lost its jazz since we learned way too much about Clemens' medical history and his nanny's swimwear. They're pretty much the same teams, though, minus a few pounds and plus a few extra hemp necklaces, and we can't help but wonder what it would be like if Epstein and Cashman were a little crazier and we were watching a Beckett-Santana duel (or a Santana-Wang duel) tonight. There would be blood, and not just on Roger's pants.
Our biggest wish for this particular series, honestly, is that there aren't any rainouts****. We'd prefer to avoid the Morgantastic, McCarverrific hype of a Yankees-Sox doubleheader late in the season. We won't be able to stand it. Our insurance doesn't cover the necessary medication, and they know us at the bars and won't let us run a tab.
*Featuring a new arrangement of the alt-classic "(He Gloved A-Rod In The Face) For Me", comp. B. Arroyo.
**Since we're on the subject, go Bruins (and, Jennifer would like to add, Devils).
***The last time we saw them, it was still called Legends Field, nobody had yet made Jonathan Papelbon try sushi, and we didn't realize that the Orioles were going to take a running leap at leading the division. Abner Doubleday, we're pretty sure, was still alive. And a new invention called "the wheel" was all the rage with the kids...
****The Sox have been lucky thus far with weather, while the Yankees have had drizzle following them around. Is it because Jeter lied when he was seventeen?
Sunday, March 9, 2008
We do not spring forward in this house
Be very very quiet. Josh Beckett's back muscles are sleeping.
As bad as it sounds (and the pessimist in us is thinking a month or six weeks), at least it's something we caught now rather than in the middle of the season. Everything's going to be fine, right? Our ace will recover, Dan Shaughnessy's hair will retain its natural curl, and the world will stay on its axis?
We wish we had someone to pat us on the shoulder and tell us it would be okay. We also wish we could just call off National Lampoon's Japanese Vacation. Really, since Beckett shouldn't go and Matsuzaka doesn't want to, can't we just send the PawSox and call it a day? We'd bet they could still thrash Oakland. And Mothra.
Nerves aside, we've been enjoying spring training so far, not necessarily because of the games themselves* as for the sudden flood of pictures and anecdotes, new things to argue about, and little nuggets of comedy gold. It's like running into an old friend for the first time in a year, and finding out that Manny Ramirez bought him a Rolex. Magic! Although honestly, our favorite part of that story isn't the Rolex but the fact that the Manny Being is buying Petey's suits. This is the greatest piece of haberdashery news ever. We can only imagine what it would be like to have his sense of style and his financial carelessness on our side. Maybe something like a combination of What Not To Wear and Snoop Dogg's Father Hood.
Dear Manny, while you're playing fashionista, can you get us a couple of Sox player shirts in feminine cuts that are not covered in pink, glitter, or the sticky fingerprints of Alyssa Milano? Because apparently those are impossible for us mere mortals to find, anywhere, at any price.**
Another thing about Manny, though, he played hooky on Photo Day for the third straight year, so he'll still be rocking the same old photo. If you haven't found time to page through all the pictures (or the new roster photos), let us sum it up quickly for you: Weird nose, serious business face, El Coco Salon and Day Spa, obviously stoned, missing a bottom lip, Captain, just needs to be stopped.
Our fear of Devern Hansack notwithstanding, we're off on our own Spring Training jaunt next week, catching the games on the 16th, 17th and 19th. There we will undertake some very important scouting, like whether Jon Lester can get his pitch counts down, whether Lowell and Youkilis figure to match their 2007 performances, and whether Tek actually has 9.7 body fat. You know, getting to the bottom of the real issues. We're going to attempt to take pictures and blog and all that useful stuff, but as you can tell by this crazy catch-all post, we may just flail around in indecision and love.
*It is wonderful to have baseball back on TV (or MLBTV, also known as the new crack cocaine), absent offense and Mirabelli baserunning blunders*** and all. But having victory back on the TV would not be an unwelcome development.
**Unless one makes one's own.
***Shortstop is not a base, Dougie.
As bad as it sounds (and the pessimist in us is thinking a month or six weeks), at least it's something we caught now rather than in the middle of the season. Everything's going to be fine, right? Our ace will recover, Dan Shaughnessy's hair will retain its natural curl, and the world will stay on its axis?
We wish we had someone to pat us on the shoulder and tell us it would be okay. We also wish we could just call off National Lampoon's Japanese Vacation. Really, since Beckett shouldn't go and Matsuzaka doesn't want to, can't we just send the PawSox and call it a day? We'd bet they could still thrash Oakland. And Mothra.
Nerves aside, we've been enjoying spring training so far, not necessarily because of the games themselves* as for the sudden flood of pictures and anecdotes, new things to argue about, and little nuggets of comedy gold. It's like running into an old friend for the first time in a year, and finding out that Manny Ramirez bought him a Rolex. Magic! Although honestly, our favorite part of that story isn't the Rolex but the fact that the Manny Being is buying Petey's suits. This is the greatest piece of haberdashery news ever. We can only imagine what it would be like to have his sense of style and his financial carelessness on our side. Maybe something like a combination of What Not To Wear and Snoop Dogg's Father Hood.
Dear Manny, while you're playing fashionista, can you get us a couple of Sox player shirts in feminine cuts that are not covered in pink, glitter, or the sticky fingerprints of Alyssa Milano? Because apparently those are impossible for us mere mortals to find, anywhere, at any price.**
Another thing about Manny, though, he played hooky on Photo Day for the third straight year, so he'll still be rocking the same old photo. If you haven't found time to page through all the pictures (or the new roster photos), let us sum it up quickly for you: Weird nose, serious business face, El Coco Salon and Day Spa, obviously stoned, missing a bottom lip, Captain, just needs to be stopped.
Our fear of Devern Hansack notwithstanding, we're off on our own Spring Training jaunt next week, catching the games on the 16th, 17th and 19th. There we will undertake some very important scouting, like whether Jon Lester can get his pitch counts down, whether Lowell and Youkilis figure to match their 2007 performances, and whether Tek actually has 9.7 body fat. You know, getting to the bottom of the real issues. We're going to attempt to take pictures and blog and all that useful stuff, but as you can tell by this crazy catch-all post, we may just flail around in indecision and love.
*It is wonderful to have baseball back on TV (or MLBTV, also known as the new crack cocaine), absent offense and Mirabelli baserunning blunders*** and all. But having victory back on the TV would not be an unwelcome development.
**Unless one makes one's own.
***Shortstop is not a base, Dougie.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
We do not want to have to say, "we told you so" in this house
9/17/07: Red Sox 1, Blue Jays 6
9/18/07: Red Sox 3, Blue Jays 4
What did we say about Eric Gagné?
Okay, fine, Jason Varitek tells us "we need him," and normally that'd be enough for us. Normally, we'd say, "fine, let's stop calling J.D. Drew 'Nancy' and start trying to cheer him on." Normally, we'd say, "well, Tek says some of those balls were borderline and with another umpire might've been called strikes, so obviously Eric Gagné is not a ticking time bomb on the mound." But "normally" flew out the window a few losses back, and we are reeling. Of course, judging from the video footage, so is our captain.
In other news, we may not have mentioned it, but in our spare time we also root for the Mets. It's been a long stretch, is what we're saying. A painful stretch. A stretch in which we've watched our beloved pirate gang falter and our captain struggle at the plate, a stretch in which Pedro Martinez* pitched a commanding six innings only to have it tossed aside by a continually shaky Mets bullpen. A stretch that makes us way too excited about tonight's season opener of America's Next Top Model, we tell you what.
Look, we get that Manny's Being Injured and that, without him, the team is not at full offensive strength. We get that Joe Torre's Operation: Take Out the Youk finally came to fruition with one pitch from Chien-Ming Wang, thus leaving us with Eric Hinske** at first. We get that everyone's tired, we get that the Blue Jays are much better than you'd think from looking at their record, we get that the Canadian National Anthem has some sort of hypnotic suggestion in it that makes our guys unable to win ballgames. That said, raid Tavvy's cooler of Red Bulls, guys, and put some earplugs in whenever someone starts to sing, "O Canada! Our home and native land!." Get out there and play. Get out there and win.
*Stay tuned for our Guide to People You Meet at Fenway, featuring Angry Dude Who Can't Forgive Pedro Martinez for Giving Up that Homer to Aaron Boone in 2003 Because Pedro Destroyed Said Angry Dude's Hopes and Dreams and Possibly Even His Ability to Have Children and Cool Woman Who Said, "Um, Wasn't That Wakefield?" and Agreed With Us That Wake Is Totally The Man.
**We actually love Eric Hinske, but we'd rather Youkilis at first than anyone else at this point.
9/18/07: Red Sox 3, Blue Jays 4
What did we say about Eric Gagné?
Okay, fine, Jason Varitek tells us "we need him," and normally that'd be enough for us. Normally, we'd say, "fine, let's stop calling J.D. Drew 'Nancy' and start trying to cheer him on." Normally, we'd say, "well, Tek says some of those balls were borderline and with another umpire might've been called strikes, so obviously Eric Gagné is not a ticking time bomb on the mound." But "normally" flew out the window a few losses back, and we are reeling. Of course, judging from the video footage, so is our captain.
In other news, we may not have mentioned it, but in our spare time we also root for the Mets. It's been a long stretch, is what we're saying. A painful stretch. A stretch in which we've watched our beloved pirate gang falter and our captain struggle at the plate, a stretch in which Pedro Martinez* pitched a commanding six innings only to have it tossed aside by a continually shaky Mets bullpen. A stretch that makes us way too excited about tonight's season opener of America's Next Top Model, we tell you what.
Look, we get that Manny's Being Injured and that, without him, the team is not at full offensive strength. We get that Joe Torre's Operation: Take Out the Youk finally came to fruition with one pitch from Chien-Ming Wang, thus leaving us with Eric Hinske** at first. We get that everyone's tired, we get that the Blue Jays are much better than you'd think from looking at their record, we get that the Canadian National Anthem has some sort of hypnotic suggestion in it that makes our guys unable to win ballgames. That said, raid Tavvy's cooler of Red Bulls, guys, and put some earplugs in whenever someone starts to sing, "O Canada! Our home and native land!." Get out there and play. Get out there and win.
*Stay tuned for our Guide to People You Meet at Fenway, featuring Angry Dude Who Can't Forgive Pedro Martinez for Giving Up that Homer to Aaron Boone in 2003 Because Pedro Destroyed Said Angry Dude's Hopes and Dreams and Possibly Even His Ability to Have Children and Cool Woman Who Said, "Um, Wasn't That Wakefield?" and Agreed With Us That Wake Is Totally The Man.
**We actually love Eric Hinske, but we'd rather Youkilis at first than anyone else at this point.
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