*Image courtesy of Kelly and www.sittingstill.net*
Lost amid Jacoby Ellsbury doing his best Brady Anderson impression and hitting his 24th home run of the year tonight will be the Captain's a/b earlier in the 6th inning.
Looking like Vlad Guerrero he took a breaking ball that was about 2 inches off the ground, slapped it into right field and somehow ended up at third with the tying run scoring. I've watched the replay about 6 times and I STILL have no idea how he made contact, much less drive it all the way to the Monster.
Beckett, even while giving up 5 runs, is in line for his 12th win and my bet with Jr, although still in the "probably not gonna happen" category is still alive and well, Sox have a two run lead going into the eighth inning, and there is still the possibility someone will plant one between the 7th and 8th rib of Fransico Cervelli for his spaz attack last night.
Throw in the fact it's a Sox/Yankees game that just might end before midnight, therefore throwing the world off it's axis, and it's been a good night.
Due to the vagaries of the MLB blackout rule along with the general Dinkishness of Bud Selig and the fact that Rupert Murdoch is a stone-cold horses rear, I was blacked out for the second game of the Sox/A's doubleheader today.
Throw in the fact that I was at work for all but the ninth inning of the first game combined with no games tomorrow OR Monday and I'm pretty well torked off and not looking forward to the baseball withdrawl yet to come.
However, two things are keeping me from going Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon 2 at the present time. The first is the Sox swept the double-header and now have two days off to dodge Hurricane Irene AND get some much needed rest.
Secondly, when Trot becomes President someday and Rakes is Secretary of Defense and I'm doing my best Joe Kennedy/Puppetmaster over the whole thing, right before those two yahoos send the world off into the sunset of a nuclear winter I'm getting Trot to have all those stupid, mind boggling, need a degree in advanced calculus black out rules completely abolished and decreeing free baseball for everyone in the free world a natural, birth given right.
And if he's still alive, a permanent banishment of Bud Selig to Siberia, with only some food, clothes, and Celine Dion's greatest hits for company.
Rakes and Trot, in their last day of "freedom" before school started, spent the day yesterday with my Saint of a Mother. She was working in the yard when we got there, so both the boys got to spend the better part of the morning outside with Nanny, raking and sweeping and picking up sticks.
Mind you, if I asked them to do this they would look at me like I had 3 heads and immediately head off looking for ice pops and juice boxes. Nanny asks them? All of a sudden they can't WAIT to do a little manual labor.
Anyways, in the middle of all this Rakes and Mom had the following conversation.
Rakes: "Nanny, I love raking. Did my Dad name me after a rake?"
Mom: "No, Rakes. That was MY Dad's last name."
Rakes: "Oh. Anyway, this is fun!"
A few minutes later.......
Rakes: "Nanny. I know what I want to be when I grow up!"
Mom: "What's that?"
Rakes: "A Janitor!"
Mom: "Well, that would be good. But you could go to school like your Mom and get your degree, be a teacher like your Mom, and work at the same place as a Janitor but make more money if you wanted."
Rakes: (After a few silent seconds of pondering this new idea) "Nah. Being a Janitor is A LOT more fun!"
Angsays he's just like me. Content to go through life just being happy with what he's doing and no real ambition to strive higher.
There are a lot of things I can think of that would be worse than that.
He just had a Home Run and 5 RBI in a 13-2 win over the Rangers.
If you see him out and about in Arlington tonight, it may not be a bad idea to get his picks for the lottery, see if he'll leave a personalized greeting on your voice mail, and buy that man an adult beverage.
On the flip side, he's decimated the Rangers the last two nights, so if you've got a wife or a girlfriend, you may want to lock them up for the night.
Tomorrow afternoon Ang and I are going to the school to meet the poor soul who drew Trot in the lottery to be his Kindergarten teacher.
These are supposed to be the sort of meetings where you introduce yourself, see his room, where his desk will be, etc.. and all the while I'm gonna be looking around for what that little maniac is going decide to jump off of, throw at, pee on, and potentially destroy.
I'm also gonna be debating internally whether to warn this poor woman of the havoc that is coming or just let her find out all on her own. The Assistant Principal goes to church with us, and seeing Trot grow up the last 5 years I'm pretty sure he either picked the teacher with the most patience or the one who's on his hit list; it could go either way.
Meanwhile, Rakes hits second grade and Ciera, God help me, is an 8th grader. 2nd grade is about as far back as I can remember, so hopefully the Mel Tillis impression he did the past two years is behind him. Both claim they want me to still come eat lunch with them on my day off, but so far only Rakes has sounded convincing. We'll see come next week.
Hard to believe that all 3 are gonna be in school and are considered "big kids" now.
Sorta makes me a little sad.
On the other hand, that 7 hour day by myself on Mondays isn't exactly gonna suck.
I have no idea how my parents raised 5 kids and none of us turned out to be serial killers.
In fact, other than me we're all a pretty well adjusted lot. Maybe it's because when we were little there weren't so many distractions. No cell phones, computers, texting, and Skyping. If we wanted to do something, we went outside and played and didn't come in until Mom called us for dinner.
Rakes and Trot have somehow taken it into their heads that the high form of entertainment is to bash each other in the gibleys as hard and often as possible; I remember my brother and I fighting but that area was always one of those unspoken rules that you just didn't go.
Maybe it's the video games. Maybe it's a total lack of parenting. Or maybe, JUST maybe my premonition about the two of them is starting to take hold.
I figure in 15 years or so Johnny Knoxville will be at the point where he realizes that taking shopping carts to his manhood or stuffing M-80's down his pants or whatever else idiotic thing he does for a cheap laugh is for the younger generation.
And those two lunatics standing behind Senor Frog will be ready to take the mantle.
At this point it's about the only thing keeping my thin shred of sanity from snapping in a thousand little pieces.
*Image courtesy of Kelly O and www.sittingstill.net*
Who, in the name of all that is holy, does Wake have to kill/bribe to get that increasingly elusive 2ooth win?
This is a guy who does more for charity than any other player in Boston, had done everything from start to mop up to relieve over the years, had to suffer the indignity of Aaron Effing Boone hitting that home run off of him in '03 and handled it with more class than your average student body President, and would probably do your paper route for you if you asked him nicely.
He's 430 years old and he's still the guy I wanna be when I finally grow up, and he can't buy that win if he had Donald Trump and Warren Buffett bankrolling him. He had a 4-1 lead and before you could un-cork the celebratory bottle of Dom it was 9-4 and he was sitting on the bench with a Thousand Yard Stare on his face, wondering how in the world it came to this.
Next shot is in Texas next week, and while I want him to get that 200th win more than I want Trot to stop peeing the bed at night?
My version of Clark, Ellen, Russ, Audrey, and Cousin Eddie hit the road last Saturday for a vacation at the Las Vegas of the Deep South, Myrtle Beach. After a 5 hour drive in which we stopped 6 times to go to the bathroom (my brother and I once went 18 hours to Oklahoma City stopping only for gas/bathroom breaks. I think we stopped 3 times.) and 4,599 instances of Trot asking "How much LONGER?" we arrived at the Yachtsman resort around 5 p.m.
After a few fitful hours of sleep on a Murphy bed (Yes, they still exist and yes they are still as uncomfortable as ever) we were up early to hit the beach and do some body surfing. Which we did for a few hours, then hit the pool. Not 20 minutes after that some yahoo came running in yelling about a shark in the water. Naturally, Rakes and Trot HAD to see so we headed to the pier to check it out. Sure enough, there was about a 5 foot shark swimming RIGHT WHERE WE HAD JUST BEEN.
Ciera was freaking, Rakes wanted to know if it could bite his arm off and Trot wanted to go pet it.
Not only did we have predator fish to deal with, we had Trot combined with his "No Fear" motto ALMOST do me in. In every room at the resort there is an Ocean front balcony with a rail about 3 feet high. For some reason we asked for an upper floor room, which if you're keeping score at home tops out at 11 floors.
Guess which floor we got?
We're all sitting there watching tv and Trot meanders over to the deck, opens the door, and proceeds to jump up on the rail, lean WAY over and is basically dangling 11 floors up from a very bad landing.
That's the Yachtsman, just to the right of that tall glass building. Our room was top floor, just about dead center. I'm pretty sure I lost 3 years off the end of my life and Ang turned a shade of white not seen since Powder.
The rest of the week was relatively calm. We hit the beach and saw no more sharks (Much to the chagrin of Heckle and Jeckle), ate out and some nice places, and spent the evenings watching movies, where I'm proud to say my kids watched "The Goonies" and "Kindergarten Cop" for the very first time, although I'm a TAD worried Rakes or Trot will introduce a brand new, fun to pronounce word at some point in the year. Why didn't I remember all the cursing?
We all got burned, ended up with sand in places God never intended it to be, and in general had a nice, relaxing vacation.
I'm not sure what it is about the furniture business but there are daily instances when my patience is stretched to it's very limit.
9 times out of 10 it's due to people wanting my "best price". Apparently, most of the world is convinced there is a 1000% mark-up on furniture and I'm trying to screw them out of house, home, and inheritance.
Fact of the matter is this; furniture is no more marked up than a McDonald's Quarter Pounder with Cheese. In the price of that furniture is rent, fuel, utilities, payroll, insurance, advertising, taxes, and last but not least, commission. Whether you believe it or not, it is NOT overpriced. At least where I work.
So I hope the guy who finally tripped my wires tonight took the fact that the following conversation took place.
Me: "Sir, have you ever bought an appliance from Lowes or Home Depot?"
Me: "When you saw that $1,200 dollar refrigerator did you tell them you'd give them $800?"
Sir: "Well, no."
Me: (addressing his wife) "Ma'am, when you bought groceries the other day did you offer to pay $2 instead of $4 for that box of Captain Crunch and tell them if they didn't let you have it for that you wouldn't buy it?"
Ma'am: "Well, no."
Me: "Then why in the world would you expect me to sell you that bedroom set for $400 LESS than I've got it priced?"
I watched a documentary on the hill people of West Virginia once and I could SWEAR these two knuckleheads appeared in part of it. Barefoot, with bad Mohawk haircuts and attitude to burn.
Rakes looks demented and Trot looks like he's ready to challenge you to a game of craps AND steal your milk money.
Somehow my prim and proper wife has let these two walking disaster's convince her that they both needed a new haircut.
Right before we go on vacation.
Between me and my slightly decaying Red Sox cap combined with these two looking like Travis Bickle in his Elementary School years I'm pretty sure Ciera is going to pretend she doesn't know any of us and tell anyone who asks that she's adopted.
All I keep thinking is wait until Trot's Kindergarten teacher gets a load of HIM.
*Image courtesy of Kelly and www.sittingstill.net*
I gotta admit; after the first season of Saltalamacchia and Tek last year after V Mart was traded, I wasn't exactly sold we were set at the position.
And after watching Salty start off slow, his complete non-ability to throw out a Wildebeast stealing 2nd, and seemingly not able to hit his way out of a paper bag I wasn't exactly feeling warm and fuzzy about this year.
He's proven me wrong.
He's up to close to 30 percent of throwing out runners, hit his 11th home run tonight, and he's got a Trot Nixon/Rooster vibe about him. Tough as a brick, perpetually dirty, and he's got that whole "I could go all Travis Bickle" thing going on that may come in handy down the stretch.
He's already got caught apparently trying to bite a finger off in the bottom of a pile and that was pre-All Star Break. Imagine this guy at Yankee Stadium in September and Beckett decides it's time to bring the pain?
Things go south and I'm guaranteeing he's the first guy looking to de-cleat Arod.
In fact, with all credit to Bill Cosby for the idea, nothing would make me happier than seeing Salty charging a weeping Slappy while Pedroia sits on his shoulders, shouting "Faster! Faster! You fool! You fool!"
*Image courtesy of Kelly and www.sittingstill.net*
I gotta admit. After watching last nights gut busting 3-2 loss with Jon Lester on the mound I wasn't exactly feeling confident with the Lackey vs. Sabbathia match up.
Yeah, we've sort of owned C.C. going back to his Cleveland days and yeah Lackey has been on somewhat of a roll, but if you'd have given me odds before the game on whether Trot would run into his brother at full speed, causing Rakes to bite a hole in his tongue, shed about 3 liters of blood, and cause him to talk like a combination of Mel Tillis and Boston Mayor Mennino or Lackey besting Sabbathia and the Sox putting a 10 spot up I'd have STILL taken Trot as the over.
Turns out they BOTH happened just mere hours apart.
Trot, well, he was Trot and JacobyEllsbury's Magical Scott Boras Has Dollar Signs Dancing In His Head Mystery Tour continues with another spectacular game, Crawford goes 4-4 and Lackey goes 6 and gives up 3 and all of a sudden it's all tied up at the top of the AL East with the rubber game tomorrow night.
More than likely the Red Sox and the Yankees will start a 3 game series tomorrow night in a dead heat for first place in the AL East.
While I'd have loved for the Sox to have had a 5 or 6 game lead instead, let me pose a question.
Back in April, after the 0-6 then 2-10 start, if someone had told you then that the Red Sox would go on a run normally only seen while playing a Playstation and end up with the second best record in the game come August 5th, would you or would you not have thought they were completely, totally nuts?
On the flip side, what do I know? Trot peed the bed again last night, my Mom found him dancing in the window at McDonalds today, and he asked me tonight if a bear bit my arm off how long would it take to grow back.
Ang has come down with either what Rakes had last week or the Black Plague so while I was at work today I was moderately worried about what was going on at home.
I called a couple of times and all was well but around 4:45 Ciera called to tell me "Mom has been in the bed ALL day, Rakes and Trot keep coming in my room, and Trot is eating blueberries all over the house."
I responded with the always lame and typical male comment of "What am I supposed to do about it?"
"Talk to them, Dad!"
So I did. With threats of bodily harm, spankings, military school, and making them sleep outside for the next two weeks.
Amazingly when I got home? They were as quiet as church mice. Now, I'm not so vain that I thought my talk hit home. More like the Wendy's cheeseburgers, fries, and the fact some new, unseen Spongebob episode was on made the difference, but for the next 3 hours they were about as calm and quiet as one could expect.
It did take me about 30 minutes to clean up the house but it's summer, they are 7 and 5, and for once didn't get to go to the pool so I really can't complain.
Although if Ang doesn't feel better soon I don't know how far this Father Knows Best/ Leave it to Beaver crap is gonna last.
Trot had a weird look in his eyes when I put him to bed.