Rapid Reaction.

It seems that the rumors of a total breakdown in communication are true. The pitchers got the message that the team is now going for worst of the worst in order to improve their draft position but the hitters clearly did not.

Pretending This Season Isn't Happening.

Since we'll all be looking for something better to do on September 18, why not catch (get it?) Wakey's movie.

Congratulations.

Well, sweet peas, congratulations are in order. You now have a worse record than the Seattle Mariners. It won't be easy but there are only four more teams that you have to pass before you can be last in the American League. Woo hoo!

The Players Are Revolting.

So they really are a insufferable bunch of whiners. (I'm really struggling not to swear a blue streak.)

And when did Dustin Pedroia become a total jackass. Has he always been this way? I used to find him charming but lately he's been really hard to take.

You don't like not being treated like a pampered little Prince? Someone had the audacity to think that you were the adult that you look like and hadn't stopped maturing at high school freshman? They took your Boo-Boo away? Awww, poor baby. Who's fault is that?

Newsflash: Lots of people work for bosses that they hate. Normal people, however, don't go all Abu Ghraib on their superiors. Normal people put their heads down, do their work, and complain to whoever greets them when they walk in the front door at night. Grow up.

They deserve to be miserable for the rest of the season.

The Point of No Return.

Not a whit, we defy augury. There is special provi-

dence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come. If

it be not to come, it will be now. If it be not now, yet it will come.

The readiness is all. Since no man has aught of what he

leaves, what is't to leave betimes?

--Hamlet V, ii, 157-61

 You know things have gotten really bad when I, super-duper control freak that I am, give up on believing that through little charms and superstitions I can effect the outcome of the game. When the outcome is beyond me, they really are pathetic.

What a waste of talent and money this sorry lot has turned out to be.

Here's Our Will.

(Ignore the video. One might think that Glee would be right up my alley but I never warmed to the show. It was the clearest version of the song that I could find, though.)

Preview: Josh Beckett's Press Conference.

One of two things will happen after this game is over:

1.) Josh Beckett will refuse to talk to the media and Peter Abraham will be overjoyed because he gets to be his nasty self and make snide comments.

or

2.) Josh Beckett will give some version of his "Sometimes I'm really terrible at pitching" expletive-ridden speech.

David used to talk (before it was so close at hand) about one day knowing that the jig was up; about leaving the game with dignity and with his head held high. Maybe, kitten, it's time for you to start thinking along those lines.

Hi Ma!

You may be the son of a major league baseball player. You may lead an extraordinarily privileged life. But, in the end, who doesn't just want to be on TV?

And So it Goes...And Goes....And Goes.

 (Getty Images)

No. Actually, that seemed about right. I'm about to write that maybe they're throwing a party every time they get to .500 and that's why they keep going back there and then Fredo does not make his pitch and does not make his pitch and does not make his pitch and then very much does not make his pitch.


The real problem, of course, was that they might as well have been hitting with toothpicks. They've forgotten how to walk, how to grind out at bats, how to make a pitcher work. They have too many first pitch ground into double play (which team do you play for Adrian?), too much wild flailing away and too little going into an at bat with any sort of idea in your head whatsoever, and if they do manage to take a pitch, too much moaning when a border line pitch is called a strike.

You could say that with David back they are a different lineup. And it would be true: David, bless his heart, still plays Boston Red Sox baseball. David, for the most part, still makes a pitcher throw his pitch and refuses to swing at crap. But who knows when he'll be back and you can't hope that he comes back quickly because you need your legs to hit.

Brawn Wins.

Being able to write mathematical proofs may be toe-curlingly sexy but, as any mathlete/quiz bowl participant/ junior chess club champion, can tell you: when it comes down to brains versus brawn, brawn wins. (Of course, Yale or no, having a philosophy degree probably means that Ryan Lavarnway's mathematics education is lacking.) Having come up in bunches of situations where he could help his team, the brains just didn't help him out.

But former best beloved (It's undecided whether one can just jump from former best beloved back to current best beloved) Craig Breslow, who does have a thorough math education, pitched well. So score one for brains anyway.

Meanwhile, the team is back under .500. But I've decided to not care about that anymore.

Fire in His Belly.

If it's the sort of thing that matters, Dustin Pedroia is none too pleased with losing to the Twins. Good for him, I guess.

Two Stars and A Wish.

Star #1: If you just look at his line, Jon Lester didn't pitch all that poorly. It wasn't fabulous by any means but when you're throwing a little party anytime Lester gets through an inning with minimal difficulty it's a step in the right direction.

Star #2: Adrian Gonzalez got a pair of hits. He's been coming around a little bit so that's always nice to see. At least it seems like he's hitting fewer first-pitch rollers to second, than he was before.

My wish: I wish that they could have scored some runs. Scoring more runs than your opponent is integral to winning a baseball game and I would really like for you to win more baseball games than you lose.