Should the Hefty Lefty David Wells head southwest by sundown today, the Red Sox will need a pitching replacement, especially since rosters expand wider than Wells' waistline tomorrow.
So BLOHARDS, what has Jose Canseco been doing since the Long Beach Armada shut down their season last Sunday? A la the immortal Dave McCarty, former Sox Slugger Canseco can do it all. Just not very well. But that shouldn't be an issue at this point really, right?
Continue reading "Jose Can You Pitch?" »
How about these plot elements?
- A manager spitting up blood.
- A beloved icon stricken with anxiety so fierce he is hospitalized with heart episodes.
- A future Hall-Of-Famer with mysterious, debilitating joint ailments and all-to-frequent brain lapses. (Early Alzheimer's?)
- An injured Captain catcher unable to help; and a back-up catcher batting .185.
- Various and sundry broken bones, unexplained illnesses, blistering cuts, and inexplicable poor performances.
Somewhere, Dan Shaughnessy sits...
Continue reading "Curses, Foiled Again!" »
Keep-the-Faith Friday
September 15, 2006
Festivities - High Noon
High Balls - 11:30
The Yale Club
50 Vanderbilt Avenue, 20th Floor
To: BLOHARDS Members
From: VP - Luncheon Operations
Re: Luncheon Still On!
Had we mailed the luncheon announcement at the end of July as scheduled, this memo would be touting Beckett's pinpoint control, Manny's durability, the poise of the young set-up relievers, and Jon Lester's fine driving record. Things had been chugging along so efficiently that Dan Shaughnessy even opted to cover the Tour de France in late July rather than serve up Puff Piece #15 about Big Papi and another improbable, walk-off win.
The shifting landscape, however, has forced the BLOHARDS' Dept. of Homeland Security and Patellar Tendinitis to work overtime to offer up rays of sunshine at a dreary time for those of us who live and die with the Olde Towne Team. Here goes:
Continue reading "No Strangers To Adversity, BLOHARDS To Meet" »
Other than the all too obvious and sudden splintering of a once delightful world, here is what we know for sure.
That like Jim Lonborg’s downhill run on Christmas Eve, 1967, it all fell apart on Monday, July 31….the day the front office failed to make a deal for Dontrelle Willis or Barry Zito.
And we know that facing reporters during the Yankee massacre, Theo Epstein, sleep deprived and suffering from an uncommonly severe flare-up of his Bright’s Disease, staggered into an ill-advised tirade against the Yankee’s payroll.
We can now pinpoint with precision the exact moment our darkest suspicions were confirmed.
Continue reading "Viva Lost Wages" »
The Postscript
It's funny, I won't know where I was for this one.
The Boston Massacre of 1978, I was in Montreal. I was working at a club in Franconia, New Hampshire, that summer, and the short-order cook and myself decided on a road trip. We threw our gym bags and a six-pack in the car, and headed north to enjoy our days off in what was, then, a magical, partying city. We camped open-air in our sleeping bags on top of Mont Royale, and basically roamed during the day. I had been following the Sox' spectacular fade on various feeble White Mountains airwaves already, and now I was buying French language newspapers and getting day-old or two-day-old box scores that looked more foreign than the language: numbers like 14, and 15, and 2, and 3. Geezuz, what's happening down in Fenway? Holy God.
Continue reading "And So It Begins, Again (Part 2)" »