Out(s)! What a Nice Word.

Alright Andrew Miller. It would appear that you are the last great hope. But these aren't the Padres you're facing, these are the mighty Pirates. And so as we do in all times of great distress here at The View From 312 Feet (I really don't like my title), we turn to the world of musical theater for advice and inspiration. Today we learn from Sweet Charity that you need to "Get up, get out(s), and do it!"

Something Better.

Saturday night monster movies are a tradition in my house. It's impressive how many movies I've seen about giant spiders or dinosaurs crossed with crocodiles or radioactive bats. Generally, the creatures are the product of irresponsible, greedy scientists (it's almost enough to make you distrust the scientific community) and almost always come with the moral to not be irresponsible or greedy, don't genetically modify or radiate or cross-breed animals in the hopes of creating super creatures, and, for goodness sake, leave the weather alone.

Last night's premier was called Swamp Shark. And much like the title indicates, it was about a particularly nasty shark that got into a swamp--I believe as the result of greed, although I'm not entirely sure what the sheriff was up to. The basic premise is that the shark starts eating people and then they have to kill it to keep it from eating more people.

Normally, I keep my love of cheesy creature features locked up tight, out of public view. Tonight's movie, however, featured something that required outing myself. Playing the role of Deputy Stanley was Mr. Wade Boggs. I wouldn't begrudge the man a job but it just seemed like it ought to be mentioned.


Now, it's not Boggs' first dramatic turn: he did have very strong feelings about Pitt the Elder on The Simpsons. Clearly the man is a star because despite having only two and a half scenes, he gets a credit in the titles.




His role consists almost entirely of first arresting the big dude and then guarding him while he's in the cell. And how's this for dedication to the role? Despite the movie being set in Louisiana (or somewhere very close to Louisiana with all the talk of bayous) Wade is the only actor who attempts any sort of an awkward southern accent. The conversation he has with the big dude when he's in the jail cell is clever though: it turns out that the big dude (I don't even know if he had a name and I stopped watching it ten minutes ago) used to be a professional football player. So Deputy Stanley tells him that he used to play football too, only it turns out that it was high school football, his team nearly went to the State competition, and he was only a backup.

For this role, Wade shows a wide range of emotions:


Confusion


Wariness


Concentration


Panic at being choked (And who hasn't wanted to, if not choke Wade Boggs, at least inflict some sort of pain on him? Big dude got to punch him too.)

Swamp Shark. Check it out. But if you're only watching it to see Wade Boggs, you could skip the first hour and a half.

Short Reactionary Post.

What a stupidly annoyingly frustrating horrible team. Seriously boys? That's the best you can do? They're the freaking Pirates! That was just terrible. Blech.

Rain.

(Getty Images)

I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

--Shel Silverstein.

Everytime I Got Up to Pitch I Said A Hail Mary.

I had thought that if I slept on it, I wouldn't feel like posting this. But since I'm still bummed about last night and nicknames are slippery things, it's best to do it before I start calling him Freddy more permanently. Plus who knows *knock wood*, maybe he won't screw up again for the rest of the season and it would be an opportunity lost.

So the World May Hear.

(AP Photo)

Jed may be headed out to California to have his shoulder examined but first he took some time today to help with the Starkey Hearing Foundation Boston Red Sox Hearing Mission at Fenway Park. The mission passed out more than sixty hearing aids to patients.

Home Coming.

Tonight, in his capacity of first base coach for the Padres, Dave Roberts returns to Fenway. It might not have been his home for long but it certainly was an important stop along the road for him. Welcome back.

Also, coaching tonight for the Padres is former Sox shortstop Glenn Hoffman. So welcome back to him too.

Behind the Lens.

I imagine myself to be pretty good with a camera. I can reliably properly expose a photograph. I know the lingo: ISO, f-stop, shutter speed, blown spots, stopping up or down. I've got a rocket and have used it to clean the camera. If I found $1000 on the side of the road, I would buy myself the Nikon 105mm f/2.8G ED-IF AF-S VR Micro lens, just because I really want one. All of that said, my pictures are generally really boring.

Someone who does not take boring photographs is Mike Ivins, manager of photography for the Red Sox. There was an interesting little write up about him today from the BU Communications department.

As a side note, because my camera has a cropped sensor, my long glass is effectively longer than his long glass. So take that professional photographer man.

Congrats.

No matter how much NESN tries to convince me that hockey is awesome and that I'm missing out and that I should care about hockey. I don't. I am not a hockey fan and will not be a hockey fan. But congratulations to the Bruins. My brother, possibly the biggest hockey fan this side of Canada, tells me that the Vancouver goalie is a jackass and so, even though he's not really a Bruins fan--by some weird turning of fate, he started out his hockey fandom as a supporter of the Whalers--he was willing to root for Boston.

Also, I hope that my boys get to wear some slick black and gold uniform tops.

And the Walls Came Tumblin' Down.

(Getty Images)

After last night's sad affair, Joshua comes out and is almost nearly perfect; throws only ninety-seven pitches and makes really quick work of the Rays. Then Youkilis, who I might have called useless a couple of times in the last day or so (What can I say? I'm fickle), comes up and brings home three. Nicely done boys.

Never A Doubt.

I can admit when I've made a mistake. I may have jumped the gun when I wrote of the possibility that this team might lose every game this season. I may have expressed doubt when they repeatedly bumped against the .500 mark but couldn't break through. In the beginning, there was room for doubt.

Sixty-two games in, however, they're on top of the world. They're ten games over .500, in sole possession of first place, and have the best record in the American League. They lead the American League in runs scored. They lead all of baseball in doubles. The pitching staff also leads all of baseball in hit-by-pitches but I choose to believe that this is strategy.

If over the one hundred remaining games they can play .600 ball, they'd finish with a record of 96-66. Winning the one hundred games that some pundits thought that they would win is within the realm of possibility. Of course *anti-jinx*, they could revert back to that horrible start and finish under .500 but hopefully, that isn't the case.

Go team! Go!

Justice for All.

(Getty Images)

When I was in elementary school, you could tell who the Catholic kids were because after mindlessly intoning the pledge of allegiance every one of us would drop an 'amen' at the end of it. Not that I pledge allegiance to the flag very often any more but I still have a difficult time not letting an 'amen' slip out.

Anyway.

Team! Look at you! It may not have started that way but how much fun did that turn out to be?

Lesson learned, if you're the Yankees: You might plunk Papi because the media pressured you into doing it (Which shows a really impressive lack of character; if the media told you to jump off a bridge, would you do it?) but you're not going to be able to beat him this year. I hope, dear Yankees, that you feel avenged for the flipped bat because I certainly feel good about the outcome of the game and the series.

There really were so many lovely things in this game: Beckett pitched wonderfully, David, Jed and Nick Swisher, Cam (Yay, Cam!), Ellsbury. All in all, it was a really great win.

Freddy My Love.

(Getty Images)

Go team, go!

I certainly wouldn't have called it but the Timmy-Fredo combination seems to work out well. Timmy gets the win, Fredo gets the save, and the offense and defense bail them out of trouble. And we all go home happy.

A couple of days ago, I would have been perfectly content with two out of three; it really is a wonderful outcome. Today I want all three. And really, at this point, it would be unfair to Joshua to not score any runs for him.

Have at it boys, no mercy.

Just Because It's June.

If life were really like a musical and I could break out into song and dance whenever I had the compulsion, then I would be a happy camper. Since it's not and singing in the streets is generally frowned upon, I will do my best to refrain.

The similarities between this baseball season and 'June is Bustin' Out All Over' from Carousel are, however, too plentiful to not comment on.

April cried and stepped aside: That seems like an absolutely appropriate reaction to the way they played in April.

May was full of promises: Like clawing your way from last to first.

But she couldn't keep 'em quick enough for some: Like, in all likelihood, falling out of first on the last day of the month.

A crowd of doubtin' Thomases was predictin' that the summer'd never come: It has been cold and rainy and horrible.

But it's coming by gum: We can only hope.

June is for busting out. The song says so. So have at it boys.