Goose Eggs.

I have this story in my head that Adrian Johnson developed a deep love of baseball when he a little kid, like maybe three years old. At the same time, he developed the strange habit of calling strikes strikeys. But nobody bothered to correct him because everybody thought that "Look, Daddy! He got a strikey!" was too cute for words. So eventually he grew up and went off to umpire school.  While he was there, everyone was aghast (at least I hope that they were) but they were all to embarrassed to say, "What the hell are you doing? You sound like a constipated goose." And so he unleashed unto the world.

That is why I had no sound for today's game. No TV. No radio. I can't hear him without seeing that goose. It's also why I had to provide my own running commentary (because sitting in silence is weird and talking to the people on the TV is not) which vacillated between being oddly proud of Franklin Morales for holding his own while going to toe-to-toe with Felix Hernandez and mumbling about how they're the Mariners and really, how much harm could they do? Then they lost; which, it turns out, is probably my fault (or really Adrian Johnson's.)

Blech.

Not too long ago, this wasn't a bad team. Adrian Gonzalez couldn't hit a lick but overall they were playing well. Then they sent Bard down and things didn't look so hot. The bats and the pitching both decided to go south at the same time and  that's no way to win a baseball game. Yes, they ran into some good pitching and some bad umpiring. But it's not like they were conditions that a good team couldn't overcome. It's all very glum.

Free to a Good Home.

Another day, another crappy baseball game.

So maybe I said that if they were going to be bad then they should be spectacularly bad. Turns out that I didn't really mean it because this is hideous to watch. Really really uncool.

You start thinking that it might be time to sell. But here's the thing: It's difficult to sell anything when there's nothing that anyone would want to buy. Maybe some GM could be fooled into taking Saltalamacchia or, strangely enough, Podsednik or I suppose something from the bullpen but there aren't any very useful players on this team.

Adrian hasn't exactly been productive. Dustin is broken. If Aviles could get back on a hot streak, maybe you could spin him into something useful but right now nobody would want him. Youkilis is both broken and unproductive. Can't trade David. Beckett is not good and Lester seems to be on the downside of his career. Maybe somebody takes a chance on Clay but he probably wouldn't be worth much. I think Doubront might be the only one you wouldn't consider trading.

Hurry Up.

Dearest chickadees,

To be filed under: You Learn Something New Everyday.
It turns out that time flies not just when you're having fun (at least I assume that you're not having fun and if I'm wrong please feel free to correct me) but also when you are miserable. Who knew? And I'm sorry to say that it's getting awfully late for this .500 mediocre crap, my lovelies.

I realize that this is what happens when you run a maybe-okay team against a very good team. The good team will win and the not so good team will look ridiculous. Pascal declared it to be so. It's just annoying because you weren't supposed to be a maybe-okay team. You were supposed to be better than that.

So here's the thing gentlemen: If you're going to flame out, then you should do it spectacularly. Try to be the worst team that ever played major league baseball. Who knows, it  might be fun? If you're going to be serious about playing baseball, then you really need to hurry up. Tempus fugit.

Even Steven.

Do you know my lovelies that even Orioles fans are laughing at you? They know that their team is not what you would call talented but at least they have the best of Boston. Kind of sad really.

And Another Thing.

NESN sucks.

Trying to watch a baseball game around Don, Jerry, and Booberella is extraordinarily difficult. But heaven forefend if said baseball game should get in the way of the discussion of Don Orsillo's desire to go to a Dave Matthews Band concert (of course he likes that crappy music) or his most favorite-est month of the year. I wish, just once, someone would tell him to shut up and cover the game.

Maybe my patience is short because the team's been so awful but when you find yourself wishing that the game was a national broadcast so that you could turn the sound on, you know that they've gone off the deep end.

Nuts.

Well that sucked.

You know what would have been super nice boys? If Adrian Gonzalez wasn't in some sort of awful funk and had been able to get on base (you know, like he's supposed to do) and was standing there in front of Ortiz (admittedly this only works out when Bogar isn't coaching third because he probably would have sent him on Ortiz' single and Gonzalez would have been out at the plate before he even got to third) and then Saltalamacchia drives them both in and we all go home happy. But nope. Adrian has forgotten how to hit or even take a walk (impossible to do when you make an out on the first or second pitch of an at bat.) He needs a day off.

Bird Hunting.

Maybe Daniel Bard needs a vacation. Might I suggest Pawtucket? It's no Capri but it does have it's charms.  It's a wonderful place, for example, to remember how to throw a fastball for a strike or to figure out how to repeat your delivery or to discover exactly where your release point ought to be. Just a thought.