The Last Hurrah?

 Nuh-uh. Do it again.

(Which appears to not be the actual lyric but it is the way I've always sung it. To be fair, stomping around like a maniac doesn't mix very well with close listening.)

So. Gentlemen. Who would have guessed that we'd end up here? When you start the season by dropping three in a row to Baltimore (Baltimore! Of all places!) it doesn't instill a whole lot of confidence. But you just put your collective heads down and played. As Kyle Schwarber said, "A bunch of grinders." (And I know he's not from here but it still made me giggle. And subsequently start assigning grinders to players: Bobby gets cold cut combo, Iggy--sleek, slim, efficient--gets turkey, Xander: roast beef, Devers: meatball, and to round out the infield and really just for old time's sake Christian Vazquez gets Chicken Parm). And then seemingly everybody got sick, things went to Hell, and visions of chicken and beer danced in our heads. But you white-knuckled it and held on. For a team that was supposed to lower third, eighty wins: it was impressive. I was impressed.

Now, kittens, come what may, we'll say thank you. It was a hell of a ride and a fun (at least the first half) summer. But wins are better, so let's go with those.  

And in aid of that, we turn to the most Boston-y, get-up-and-go song ever. (Which listening to it today makes me think that I may have been misinterpreting it for twenty-odd years.  But whatever. It's a song for jazzing yourself up and can't be changed at this late date.)

 

Waiting to Exhale.

 Brock Holt is an awful hypocrite but that was great fun. Just delightful.

Best game of the year? Possibly.

The Truth About Cats and Dogs.

Earlier today, a five pound bag of sugar fell on my face. That was a more pleasant experience than watching this team play baseball.

Clueless.

Well, kittens. It's not good.

This team is just not good at baseball. The pitching has been terrible. The hitting is atrocious. The defense is sloppy. And you've got this stupid trip to London coming up.

Worst of all, I don't think that I care. If you were trying, despite being bad at baseball, I would care. All you really need is heart but you don't even seem to have that.

In my head, they give a David a cane when he gets out of the hospital (and there's no doubt in my mind that he gets out of the hospital) but he is unable to use it because he's too strong; when he presses down on the cane it breaks. David, in my imagination, twenty months out from having played baseball and recovering from major surgery, is still strong enough to bend steel.

I can't imagine that there is anyone on this current team that I would picture in the same way.

Blech.

The American President.

That...seems about right. The White Sox (which is so damn clever I wish that I had thought of it) and a gun-crazed lunatic, who believes that he is being patriotic by advocating for the armed overthrow of any duly elected government that tries to take away his guns.

I'm disappointed in Slick. He seems so much more urbane than the rest of these chuckle-heads.

I'm truly disappointed in Matt Barnes. In interviews, he seems intelligent; like he might be capable of actual rational thought. Guess not. Anyway, he is currently sporting that ridiculous Hitler youth haircut so maybe he was in his element today.

But the one that's really killing me is Brock Holt. Brock Holt pretends to care about sick kids but stands grinning next to a man who dreams of taking away their access to care.

--And if we learned anything from Tim Thomas (and seriously I know nothing about Tim Thomas), it's that standing next to someone means a complete endorsement of their beliefs. It means fully embracing the lying, the cheating, the racism, the misogyny, the jingoism, the xenophobia, the cruelty. It's saying, "I got a couple more bucks in my pocket, I'm good man. Do what you want."-- 

The health care class system is A.O.K. in Brock Holt's view. You've got your haves: the folks who get to walk into a hospital and maybe walk out with a cure. And you've got your have-nots: the folks who can't afford treatment so they forgo it, or they go massively into debt, or beg strangers on the Internet for money. 

And while all those concussions that he's suffered are probably melting his brain and will lead to further mental deterioration down the road, Brock Holt's care is covered. Anybody else gets a concussion and can no longer get health care? Sucks to be you, says Brock Holt. You get to suffer.  The upside though is that everybody's stock portfolio is worth a little bit more so win...win?

I suppose it's good to know where folks stand.

The Pallbearer.

One doesn't like to be all doom and gloom. But maybe, it's time for the Red Sox twitter account to stop pretending like a game Chris Sale pitches is an event worth looking forward to.

Fools Rush In.

I don't know if they also head for the hills first.

This? This stinks.

Normally, I'm a cautious sort of person: gather the data, consider the options, make a fully-informed decision. Last year's team was so much fun, though, I just jumped in with this group. I believed.

Now, I'm starting to think: Alex Cora can't spin gold, you do need a competent bullpen, and this team has serious flaws that can't be papered over.

So. Do I bail? They're certainly not entertaining. At the same time, though, they can't be this bad for the next five and a half months. Right? They have to get better at some point. But is there any real reason to think that?

It's demoralizing.

Can't Hardly Wait.

There is a certain awkwardness to having an Opening Day! celebration almost two weeks into the season. (Not your fault, I know. But there it is.) And then there's the utter embarrassment one feels for having an Opening Day! celebration for a team that has not just stumbled but has, instead, belly-flopped flat onto its face and managed to chip a tooth on its way out of the box.

But then you go and post this video:

No one said it would be easy. #OpeningDay pic.twitter.com/qBvlq8zsJi

— Boston Red Sox (@RedSox) April 9, 2019

Fine. Have your party.

Out to Sea.

I like Eduardo. I do. He seems like a nice kid and he oozes personality. But he's so very frustrating. Very, it just occurs to me, Daisuke like.

He seems to insist on doing all the work in an at bat. Seeking the glamor of a strike out, he can't tempt batters into swinging and getting themselves out. So he runs the count full and can't last deep into the game. A good strategy for the opposing team would be to just stand there for the first five pitches of the at bat. He throws you two strikes? No problem. He's going to follow it up with three pitches outside the strike zone. And then you'll either walk or he'll have to throw something worth swinging at.

It's frustrating because there's real talent there. Or, at least it seems like there's real talent there. Maybe this is it for him. This is who he is: a kid who could be good, if he'd just get over himself.

Dream for an Insomniac.

Hooray! A win! (One has to take what one can get with this team.)

You, possums, you all can thank me. When I was getting dressed this morning (really yesterday morning), I saw a pair of socks (black with white polka dots) in my drawer and said to myself, "Well, they won the last time I wore these..." So I put them on and voila. You're welcome. Of course, they're socks so they are in the laundry basket and won't be available to work their magic again until next Tuesday. So you'd better figure out how to win without them. 

Joe Versus the Volcano.

Honestly? It's good of the pitching staff to make it clear exactly how they plan for the season to play out. No false hope. Just a team that is really really bad at baseball. As a spectator, one can choose to entertain oneself in a different way this summer.

For example, one can watch this video of Jackie Bradley Jr. taking a helicopter ride:

Reality Bites.

Maybe you woke up this morning and thought, "Woo Hoo! It's Opening Day! How exciting! Chris Sale!" (Me? Inexplicably, I woke up with Flagpole Sitta running through my head. Extra note: I just learned that they didn't put him in a hospital for nerds as I had assumed for the last twenty-ish years.)

That would have been misplaced enthusiasm. This sucks.

Maybe, Sale wasn't exaggerating when he repeatedly gave all the credit for his performance in Boston to Sandy. Let's hope he gets it together.

Come On, Dover!

Ace & Hype Man 🗣 pic.twitter.com/4GbVHavMFw

— Boston Red Sox (@RedSox) October 28, 2018

He's like a street corner preacher.

On He Plods, Against All Odds!

Welp my darlings. It is 3 a.m. 3! You should score some runs now. I think that that would be a fabulous idea. Really and truly. Thanks.

*UPDATE* 3:30 a.m. : This is Manea levels of ineptitude, isn't it? Except that Andy's already been played because the NL is stupid.

Second thought: Might we be seeing the chink in Cora's armor? This is not a good look for a team.

*UPDATE* 3:31 a.m. : Pfft.

Hey Martha!

The Boston Red Sox have won one hundred games. It's a hell of a thing. Sure, they've had their issues but it's quite the accomplishment. Well done, boyos. Now...onward.

When I Get My Name in Lights.

I'm not going to talk about the game that is going on right now. Whatever. Losers. (Seriously, all the winning makes the occasional loss annoying.)

Since the man is coming to town tomorrow (and I seem to be less annoyed with his telling tales out of school behavior) it seems noteworthy to point out that one Mr. Terry Francona has really and truly hit the big time.

His name appears, not in lights, but in little squares as 60 across in today's Tribune crossword.

Like I said, the big time.

It's a Hit!

Sondheim to the rescue! (And maybe a little credit to Andy.)

Old Friends.

I really like Hanley. So the news that he's donezo, makes me sad. And to do it for Pedroia? Blech.

A couple of years ago, Dustin Pedroia ceased to be amusing and a lot of the time he seemed like he would prefer to be somewhere, anywhere, else. And then he lost me completely last year by turning on his team to defend the King of All Jackasses.

Hanley, on the other hand, was great fun. He seemed to be enjoying himself. He seemed to want to be here.

And I know that that sort of thing shouldn't be a consideration but whatever.

If you must bring back Pedroia, there were plenty of other options. You could send Devers down to learn third base. You could LET SWIHART GO!

Maybe it makes the team better (I doubt it Dustin Pedroia is maybe serviceable. Maybe.) but it certainly makes the team less fun.

Oh, Me of Little Faith.

I thought somehow Alex Cora had still not realized that Joe Kelly is a terrible idea, that Joe Kelly sucks. Turns out: What do I know?

I Know Things Now.

You're never as good as you look on your good days and you're never as bad as you look on your bad days. But since this right here looks like a good day for Drew Pomeranz, the kid is in trouble.

Also, this team is going to lose a series to the Royals. At the end of the day the Royals are going to have nine wins and Boston is going to have been responsible for 22% of them. That is just tragic.