Sunday, September 13, 2009
Just some thoughts on the Lions' first game of the 2009 season:
--Chris Myers (announcer), on Larry Foote going from winning two Superbowl rings with the Steelers to playing for the Lions: “It’s like going from dating Beyoncé to Oprah.” What a statement with which to start the season. Really sets the tone.
--I hate the new helmet logo in action much less than I thought I would. I don't like the new stripes on the pants, though. The blue as the thickest element in the stripe is just too much. What I do actually hate is the new 'LIONS' font. I wasn’t in love with the old font either (which looked a little like what you’d see on the side of a circus carriage; doubly unfortunate since you WOULD expect to see the word “lions” on the side of such a vehicle), but this toothpaste-packaging-looking typeface is not the answer.
I quite liked the little fleur-de-lis on the hips of the Saints.
--Anyways, if there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that uniform changes don’t do a damn thing for the Lions. Black jerseys, anyone?
--Very appropriate that the first Lions points of the season were scored on a Jason Hanson field goal. Anything else would have seemed like false advertising.
--Last year the Lions' secondary had one interception, all year. They have one in the first half here, on an admittedly ill-advised flea flicker pass from Drew Brees. So that's goin' better, kind of, maybe.
--At the beginning of the game they said that the Lions felt one of their biggest areas of improvement had been the defensive linebackers. After the first half I feel that this was a lie; the defense as a whole looks terrible. The only area where they seem to have shown some improvement is special teams, and even that has been inconsistent at best.
Finding out that the team has lied to me this early in the season is not a good sign.
--I wish more people would take a swipe at Jeremy Shockey when he's celebrating a touchdown. I don't even care about that penalty, and the Big Cat hit the ball, not Shockey, anyways. Good job, Lions. The rest of the league should take note of how satisfying that is.
--The Lions taped the National Anthem and had the players look at it, so that they would stand correctly and present a respectful picture before the game. Let me repeat that: the coaches had the Lions study tape of the National Anthem. This is what team resources are going towards. IT ALL MAKES SENSE.
--This was the 18th consecutive loss for the Lions, going all the way back to 2007.Labels: Lions, terrible
10:26 PM
Monday, November 17, 2008
Oh man you guys things are so bad right now when it comes to Blue Cats. I can't even really call them 'Lions' anymore because that implies a certain amount of majesty and toothy power that would be the most obvious false advertising ever.
I mean you see this blue cat here; he is not swimming, he is slowly sinking beneath the logo'd waves. Straight up watery tragedy.
If you are wondering why there have not been very many posts about this potentially historic season so far, I can only tell you that every week I spend a few moments in quiet contemplation, trying to think of something to say other than 'EVERYONE IS SO BAD AT FOOTBALL'. I have a hard time thinking of anything. EVERYONE IS SO BAD AT FOOTBALL.
Occasionally the Blue Cats will play well for a series, or a quarter, or (more rarely), a half. But the opposing team then always remembers how to play football, and the Blue Cats always revert back to their bumbling ways.
If you have a quarterback with a big arm-- one of the few things Daunte Culpepper inarguably does still have-- why would you not throw down the field? You have not won a game yet. Why stick with runs and short, sometimes backwards passes? THERE IS ALMOST LITERALLY NOTHING TO LOSE. Take some bloody RISKS! This seems obvious, unmistakable, self-evident. Yet somehow, somewhy, the Blue Cats insist upon short runs and tiny passes.
I just... WHY?
And the tackling; holy cats, the tackling is still some of the worst I have seen at any level. You don't just try to BUMP INTO GUYS, you have to WRAP THEM UP and HOLD ONTO THEM and generally NOT TOUCH THEM ONCE, WEAKLY, AND THEN LIE DOWN ON THE TURF TO WATCH THEM CONTINUE ON DOWN THE FIELD.
This is obvious, yes??!? To you, this is obvious? To me, this obvious! To the Blue Cats, this is not at all obvious. It has been going on since Week One. You would think that perhaps they would have begun addressing it by now, but you would be thinking a wrong thing.
HOW IS THIS AT ALL POSSIBLE ON A PROFESSIONAL FOOTBALL TEAM? It boggles the mind so hard that mind-bits will leak out of your ears and nose, it truly does.
What more can I even say? These Cats are bad in a way that defies description. There are no words in the English language sufficient to describe the terriblocity of this 'football team' (and I use that phrase in the loosest possible sense).
0-and-10. Absurd, ghastly, sickening, farcical, lunatic, ridiculous. And, in all likelihood, it will only get more so.Labels: football, Lions, NFL, terrible
10:28 PM
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Mmmm, losing, how it has consumed my football.
I of course attended the Michigan/Ohio State game, which was a disaster. A total disaster. It was freezing cold out, but just warm enough to keep the rain rain and not snow. I don't know how it was possible for the air to be as cold as it was while we were still getting rained out, but apparently Ohio State bewitched the air to make us just that much more completely miserable. I was soaked through by the end of the game, and I had rain gear on. Some people were worse off. And of course there's no shelter in the Big House.
Part of the problem was that, while the game didn't ever really 'feel' close, and even though it definitely never seemed like Michigan (and more especially Chad Henne) was going to make a comeback, the score technically WAS close enough to keep most of us in our seats. Of course leaving a ballgame early is despicable behavior, but in this case it would have been perfectly justified by the soul-destroying nature of the loss and the potentially health-destroying nature of the weather, and if this had been a blowout I would've been out of there before you could say, "Jim Tressel eats babies."
ALAS, IT WAS NOT A BLOWOUT. The score at the end was only 14-3. That's a surmountable score even in the NFL, and it's easily surmountable by college football standards. Hell, I've seen Michigan overcome much bigger deficits in that very stadium. You can't leave a college game when the score's that close, you just CAN'T, because if the losing team makes a comeback and you aren't there for it you can NEVER FORGIVE YOURSELF.
I mean, look at that MSU game in 2004. We were down by 17 with 8-some-odd minutes to go in the 4th quarter. As the game wore on, the mid-70s temperature of the daytime gave way to the mid-30s temperature of the night, meaning that we had all showed up wearing tshirts and were literally freezing. It seemed like the perfect time to leave, and Michigan ended up coming back and winning in triple overtime. It's one of the most epic games in recent memory and a classic in the UM/MSU rivalry.
Can you imagine being at that game and leaving early? Lots of people did. (I almost did, but my seatmate said we should wait for at least the 5-minute mark, and Michigan started the comeback around the 6-minute mark). I know some people who left. THEY HAVE STILL NOT FORGIVEN THEMSELVES.
So, with Michigan only down by 11 at the most, I just couldn't leave. Not even with the pervading air of hopelessness, not even with the weather that threatened to end both me and my camera. This time around, Michigan did not reward me with a win. The defense played well (witness the fact that OSU was held to 14 points), but the offense doesn't even rate mention. Suffice it to say that the offense was Bad, and the capital B is intentional.
Photos from the game are here. I went early to take a bunch of stadium shots, as it's my last game as an undergrad. Thankfully the rain did not start until the game did. I got some nice player shots from warmups too. Not so many good shots during the game, due to the aforementioned and much belabored weather. YOU CANNOT UNDERSTAND HOW TRULY MISERABLE IT WAS UNLESS YOU WERE THERE. The weather for that game: also Bad.
In happier news, I was also at the Thanksgiving Day Lions game! Oh wait, did I say 'happier'? I meant 'equally sad but less overtly miserable because at least the Lions play indoors'.
This was, by far, the highlight of the game. Dippin' Dots. In a miniature Lions helmet. I think you will agree with me that this is awesomeness made solid and incarnate, yes? Yes.
As for the game itself, whatever. I literally spent parts of it thinking to myself, "Hey, this isn't half as bad as the Michigan game! I'm inside! It's climate-controlled! I have a real seat instead of a small section of bleacher! The Lions are playing with some hope here at the end! I have Dippin' Dots! Altogether a superior losing experience!" And all that was TRUE. It made the Lions game just seem so whatever-esque. Brett Favre and the Packers are on a streak of vicious football prowess. The Lions have been winning, with the exception of the Denver game, by the skin of their pointy feline teeth. Whatever! At least it wasn't an absurdly bad blowout like the past two Thanksgivings. This game was close! So, whatever! See?
Photos from that game are here, in addition to some shots from before and after, as we trotted around the city.
At least it looks like the Patriots are going to win this game. If you listen carefully, you can hear my feeble, beaten-down cheer as I muster the little enthusiasm I have left for football right now.
Oh, and PS, check out this downtown Detroit bar:
Yes, it is called "Jacoby's". I had to take a photo of that. Who wouldn't?Labels: Buckeyes, football, Jacoby Ellsbury, Lions, loss, NCAA, NFL, OSU, rivalry, terrible, Wolverines
10:48 PM
Friday, October 12, 2007
True story.
That's my living room wall: the little painting all the way on the left is Fenway Park, the big painting is old Tiger Stadium, and the flag, of course, is the Detroit Lion.
We were having some trouble with the electricity in my apartment (i.e. my roommate managed to trip one of the circuit breakers three times in a single morning), so I alerted the apartment manager and toddled off to class. I came back just as the maintenance guy was finishing up. He hadn't been able to replicate the problem, so it was all Very Mysterious and we were both at a bit of a loss to explain it.
As he was packing up his tools, his eyes alighted upon the Lions flag. Well. As you can see, it's hard to miss, especially since that's the wall that faces the front door.
Maintenance dude nodded at the flag. "Well, that's your problem right there. Suckin' all the energy right outta the place."
I laughed. In light of the Lions' most recent outing, this was a fair assessment.
"Really. That'll take all the energy right out." At this point I wasn't quite sure if he was joking or not. On the one hand, how could he NOT be joking? On the other hand, the Lions have been bad enough for long enough to do some serious damage to people's minds.
After another minute of conversation about the Army recruiters staked out in our parking lot, maintenance dude left, but not before casting a baleful glance over his shoulder at the Lions flag.
I'm a little worried now.Labels: football, Lions, NFL, terrible
2:34 PM
Sunday, September 02, 2007
I'm hoping that writing about this will be sort of therapeutic. Or something.
By now you're probably all well aware of the historically horrific Michigan football game that took place on Saturday, when Appalachian State became the first 1-AA team in the history of ever to defeat an AP-ranked team. It was every bit as bad in the stadium as you probably imagine.
Usually the first game of the season is a time for fun and happy good times. The opposing team is always some non-conference school with a definite fluff factor, and while of course there's the Any Given Saturday factor and all that, it's still THE MICHIGAN WOLVERINES playing against SOME LOW-DIVISION SCHOOL, so the odds are not exactly squared up. If you're a Michigan fan, it's stress-free. All you have to worry about is how hot it's going to be in the stadium at gametime, and if you're watching at home, well, no worries at all.
This year already got off to a bad start, because most people who wanted to watch at home couldn't-- thank you, Big 10 Network. Bad karma for sure.
It was pretty warm out, but I've experienced worse in the Big House before. We also weren't sitting in the student section for the first time in my life, which meant that instead of balancing precariously on a narrow bench with a bunch of drunken frat boys swaying dangerously into me, I actually got to sit down for much of the game. That and the fact that there was a seat or two vacant in my row (so we weren't packed in like sardines) makes the heat shockingly easier to bear. I still managed to get sunburnt, but that's par for the course.
Still, it was a pleasant sunny day, with one of those "high skies" you hear about sometimes in baseball. You know the kind: that endless vault of blue without a scrap of cloud in it, bright enough to look perfectly collegiate against anyone wearing maize. It was hard to imagine that the game was going to have any outcome other than the expected one.
When Michigan first drove down the field and scored on a Mike Hart touchdown run, it seemed even more like things were going to progress in the usual manner. Mike Hart looked great, a force of sheer unstoppable Mike Hart-ness. Who does not love Mike Hart? Is this a thing which is possible? I think not.
Appalachian State scored soon after that, though. It was a little deflating, especially because it came on a great big 68-yard pass, the kind of thing that it would later seem impossible for Henne to throw. Chad Henne apparently prefers little dumpy passes that may travel 30 yards sideways, but only ACTUALLY go 2 yards up the field. We know Henne has the arm; when he does go long, part of his problem is actually going TOO long and overthrowing his receivers. So I'm not sure why the coaching staff sticks with this wee-pass scheme when it has failed to work so many times.
But the point is that even though the game had been quickly tied up, we weren't too upset yet. A little pissed off at the defense, sure. Grumbling a little, sure. But no one in the stands ACTUALLY believed that we were looking at a straight-up defeat. This kind of stuff has happened to Michigan before. We've had a TON of trouble with mobile quarterbacks the past few years, and Armanti Edwards is very, very mobile (or at least we sure made him look that way).
(Why yes, that IS a hole the size of Alaska that has obligingly opened up in the Michigan defense for Mr. Edwards to saunter right through.)
I guess this is a kind of arrogance, but honestly? We win these kinds of games. We may do so annoyingly according to the fans, especially in the Lloyd Carr era, where the win would likely be just enough and not a whit more, but we win. This isn't an arrogant statement; it's a statement of FACT.
The whole game slowly became a series of unbelievable occurrences. Surely we wouldn't be down this much by halftime. Surely we wouldn't be down in the second half. Surely we wouldn't be down so close to the end of the game.
When we came back in the last minutes of the game to squeak ahead, it was like everyone in the crowd said, "Ah ha!, so THIS is how it will go!" We would sneak ahead of the Mountaineers and it would be an ugly, ugly game that would get the attention of the team, so they would hopefully be extremely motivated to learn from their mistakes... but we would still WIN. It seemed impossible that we wouldn't. And then when we came back AGAIN, with that great pass from Henne and the great catch from Mario Manningham... when we got into field goal range...
That was ugly. That was an ugly, ugly blocked kick, but holy freakin' cats, it should not have even come down to that. Is it inexcusable for Gingell to be kicking the ball that low? Yes. Of course. What the hell. But it is MORE inexcusable to be depending on a field goal with the clock ticking down to prevent a defeat at the hands of a 1-AA team, even if that 1-AA team is the best 1-AA team to ever put on its little 1-AA pants.
I am not sure that I can accurately describe the feeling in the stadium after the Mountaineers ran that blocked kick back and dogpiled on the Michigan sideline.
It may best be summed up by the older guy sitting in front of me, who, as soon as the game ended, sat down heavily on his bit of bleacher and immediately pulled out and lit up a cigarette. This is a clear violation of probably 50 different and equally strident Big House rules and regulations. You'll see people sneaking alcohol into Michigan games all the time, but I had never seen someone smoking; that always seemed to be a much worse offense.
This guy was so obviously stunned and traumatized that he did not, in that moment, care. At all. He stared into space, motionless except for the little motions needed to smoke his cigarette. He looked so utterly lost that people coming up the stairs past him kept patting him consolingly on the back. It's possible that he didn't decide to ignore the rules; it looked like he might have just forgot where he was altogether.
Were there any good moments? Sure. Of course.
One of the best moments was after the bands had come off the field at halftime and the kickers were warming up. Jason Vitaris, the Appalachian State place kicker, was kicking down at my end of the field. They had only managed/bothered to get the net about halfway up, so when he boomed a kick way high, it ended up in the crowd, maybe 10 or 15 rows up.
Vitaris gazed patiently into the crowd, waiting for the ball to get thrown back. The Michigan fans of course immediately started passing the ball backwards, farther and farther up into the stadium, yelling at people who didn't understand what was going on. This took a while, since the ball had a long way to go and its passage was pretty erratic. The whole time this was going on Vitaris was just staring at the crowd, like he couldn't quite believe that he wasn't getting the ball back.
This continued until the crowd collectively managed to get the ball all way to the top row, where it was ceremoniously hurled out of the stadium entire. Vitaris kind of looked around furtively, like he still could not believe that the whole thing wasn't some sort of colossal joke and he would be getting his ball back shortly, before he finally had to give up on it.
The other best moment was when we were walking back from the stadium and one of the kids hanging out of a window along the way was screaming to everyone, "Drink the loss away! Drink the loss away! It's the only way!" in a truly brave and heroic manner. That's the good ol' collegiate spirit right there, that is.
The rest of the photos from the game are right here, if for some sick masochist reason you want to look at them all.
(Watching Sportscenter. They're talking about BASEBALL. The Yankees/Devil Rays game, to be exact. The Sportscenter announcer says something along the lines of, "Nobody expected much out of the Devil Rays here, but they're at least as good as Appalachian State". Of course the D'Rays went on to win. Yuk yuk yuk. We're a catdamned joke now. People will for years talk about some rinkydink team upsetting a powerhouse and they'll use Michigan and Appalachian State as a metaphor. This may never die and I hate that fact just as much as I hate the game outcome itself.)Labels: Appalachian State, football, history, in attendance, loss, Michigan, NCAA, photoblog, record, terrible, Wolverines
5:39 PM
Monday, December 25, 2006
ran
This is truly disgusting.
The fact that, at the end of the game, I was sitting there saying things like, "But we COULD HAVE WON if only it had been Roy of the Williamses in that corner of the endzone, instead of Mike of the Williamses and his useless, useless hands," is a reflection on my own personal level of derangement, not on any actual skill on the part of the team. This is a terrible football team. A TERRIBLE FOOTBALL TEAM. This is not a point that can be emphasized enough. A bunch of dudes (even the word 'team' is giving them too much credit) who are INCREDIBLY TERRIBLE at playing the game of football.
Jon Kitna is a miserable human being. He perpetually looks like someone held his head to a giant grindstone, shearing all the flesh off of it, and it's only just finished growing back in a cruel, agonizing parody of humanity. He looks even more like this after he's had his face planted in the turf by the opposing team for the 8 THOUSANDTH TIME IN A GAME. Seriously, how horribly familiar are we all with the image of some fat blob of an opponent lumbering forward unchecked, grabbing Kitna around the ankles, causing him to pitch forward comically as though a giant zip-tie has just cinched his lower legs together? And then BAM, facemask filled with bits of grass and discarded dignity.
EVEN SO, things might be different if the Lions receivers were capable of catching any pass other than a perfect spiral delivered softly and directly into the palms of their waiting hands. THEY ARE NOT. And sometimes they even miss those! Do they ever sit in the lockerroom and wonder how other teams do it? How other groups of receivers manage to catch less-than-110%-perfectly-thrown footballs on a semi-regular basis? Does this not INTRIGUE them? Because I can't shake the feeling that they just shrug their shoulders and assume that the rest of the league is filled with strange, magical creatures that they, as mere mortals, cannot be expected to emulate. IT ISN'T TRUE, RECEIVERS. YOU TOO CAN BE PRECIOUS LITTLE PEGASUSES.
Why did I even watch this? Why do I continue to watch this trainwreck of a pisspoor excuse for a football team???
It's like an abusive relationship, and the Lions are the hideous, abusive boyfriend who beats you (the fan) up every Sunday without fail. But he doesn't even whisper misleading sweet nothings in your ear the rest of the week to make up for it and keep you chained to him by the cruel rope of undeserved love! No! You are so far gone that the cajoling words of love are ONLY IN YOUR OWN HEAD, and the abusive guy calls you a nasty slut and goes out to a strip club with his friends instead of returning your calls and you STILL STICK WITH HIM, why? Why???? IT'S NOT LOVE. You don't know! He never treats you right and he sleeps with other girls (and probably other guys too, we know about your sick "friendship" with Brett Favre, Lions!) and hits you about the face betweentimes, but you CAN'T TEAR YOURSELF AWAY, because THAT'S HOW IT IS IN AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP and THAT'S WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE A LIONS FAN RIGHT NOW.
What about the offensive line? WHAT OFFENSIVE LINE? Rick DeMulling makes me VOMIT UP MY SPLEEN. I need that spleen, DeMulling! Why do you do this? WHY??
Clint Stickdorn? WHAT THE HELL IS A CLINT STICKDORN????? Is this a real football player who is really on our real roster or is he A FIGMENT OF MY FEVERED, ABUSED IMAGINATION?
Why aren't we playing Dan Orlovsky???? Jon Kitna has nothing to offer us. We would need a quarterback who cries Grey Goose vodka tears and pisses liquified gold to make the kittenish paws of our receiving core receptive to the football; we need a quarterback who is half man, half MANTICORE; that isn't Jon Kitna. It isn't Orlovsky either but who cares?? WE HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE EXCEPT FOR OUR DIGNITY. OH WAIT.
At this point in the season people in other cities talk about running games, and I stare at them like they're claiming a goddamn Tyrannosaurus rex is running around their backyard eating complacent suburban squirrels. In Detroit this mystical creature is long since extinct. The University of Michigan is heading some really groundbreaking archaeological expeditions to exhume the fossilized bones of the running game. They've found petrified mud with cleat tracks in the banks of the Detroit River. There are rumors that such a creature once roamed the earth and breathed the air, but right now it's just academic speculation. I DON'T REMEMBER WHAT A RUNNING GAME LOOKS LIKE.
Also!
MIKE WILLIAMS IS TERRIBLE AT FOOTBALL AND AT LIFE.
MERRY FREAKIN' CHRISTMAS!Labels: Clint Stickdorn, football, Jon Kitna, Lions, loss, Mike Williams, NFL, rant, Rick DeMulling, terrible
12:16 AM
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
A sad and gory scene it was.
Beckett had stepped into the gladiator's ring expecting to have to face another human, equally matched in softness and might. Imagine then, if you will, his sheer horror upon viewing his true opponent.
For his opponent was massive in stature, with a long aristocratic nose, and feet shod in steel. He was broad in the chest and powerful in the legs. He had shaggy brown hair and a gleam in his eye... a gleam that promised DEATH.
For this was no man entering the ring, oh no.
It was A MOOSE.
A HORRIFYING MOOSE OF DESTRUCTION AND ALSO HORROR.
Beckett looked down at the weapons he had chosen. His baseball and glove seemed so puny and helpless before this ravening vegetarian beast. Trembling with fear he raised his eyes slowly to see the weapons of his enemy. And it was with good reason that he trembled. For THE MOOSE had no mere glove and ball. He had instead a FIERY BALL OF MAGMA, and a huge cruel glove, made from the TANNED HIDES OF HIS ENEMIES.
Frantic, with tears starting in his eyes, Beckett turned to the edges of the gladiator's ring, where the spectators were arrayed. He caught the eye of his mentor, the great old warrior, Schilling. Schilling merely bent his head, acknowledging the impossibility of the situation. It was unheard of, throwing A MOOSE from the depths of hell into the ring with a mere mortal, and yet here it had been done. There was no help for the kid.
"I'll help you, amigo!" cried a brave voice. Beckett looked around, suddenly brighter with optimism, to see David Ortiz charging into the ring, swinging a bat and making for THE MOOSE with riteous anger on his face, apalled at the unfairness of it all.
"Bitch, please. 0-for-3," THE MOOSE said, and with one kick of his steely hooves, Ortiz was sent flying right back out of the ring.
The spectators jeered, and Beckett felt sick. He hefted his glove and ball and turned 'round to face his destiny. He squared his shoulders and readied his eminently hittable fastball. He was going to go out like a MAN, dammit. He raised his chin proudly.
Looking for just such an opening, THE MOOSE took that opportunity to impale Beckett on his horrible hell-antlers. Lifting his monstrous head he separated Beckett's from its body, and raised the blood-stained bust high into the air of the gladiator's ring.
That is exactly how it happened, and don't let any NESN reruns tell you otherwise.Labels: baseball, Josh Beckett, loss, Mike Mussina, MLB, Red Sox, storytime, terrible, Yankees
4:00 AM
Monday, April 24, 2006
Not dead! Honest! It's just that move-out is scant few days away (not to mention the final, and my last outing to the prison), and I deal with almost nothing so poorly as I do move-out and move-in. The worst times of the year here in BCRS land are move-out and move-in. I am not good with transitory periods.
I also haven't been seeing much in the way of Red Sox lately. Indeed, the closest I came was that game on I think the 21st, where Papi, Manny (finally!), and Tek all homered, and we STILL CONSPIRED TO LOSE, because Mike Timlin COULDN'T HOLD ONTO HIS GODDAMN BALLS (he's got 3, you know) and he MADE LIKE A BOMB AND EXPLODED.
What happened was that I was watching the Cubs/Cardinals game, idly waiting for the first David Eckstein=scrappy reference of the day, when who should phone but Beth, rambling excitedly about Manny and Papi hugging, or something, and homeruns, or something, and she's at the house of someone named Julia, and they have TiVO which is like the shining Holy Grail of electronics, or something, and OH MY GOD WHAT IS MIKE TIMLIN DOING.
Oh look, I thought idly to myself. Michael Barrett is beating himself up over letting that ball get by him. Ho hum. Wait. Timlin? What?
I fired up Gameday, which is slow as the molasses that once consumed Boston (100% of FACT!) but still better than nothing, and I stared in horror at the little graphics as Mike Timlin slowly but surely imploded before our very eyes like a timelapse video of an apple rotting down to a wizened little brownish core.
"There's nobody warming," Beth hyperventilated. "WHY DON'T THEY HAVE ANYONE WARMING HE'S ALREADY GIVEN UP A HOMERUN."
"Um." I eloquently replied. There's nothing quite like knowing apocalyptic baseball is going on right down the phoneline from you, but you can't see it. I checked the boxscore of the previous game. Wake had gone 8 innings, Tavarez had sucked copious polluted wind for a whole 0 outs, and Foulke had come in to put a quick end to the misery. So the bullpen should have been, if not well-rested, at least not decimated. "I dunno" was about all I could offer Beth, who by now sounded as though she was thrashing about in an epic battle with the Giant Squid of Exquisite Agony, from what I could tell over the phone.
Eventually the phone got handed off to Julia Whose House They Were At, and I rambled incoherently at her for a bit (hi Julia! I had a crippling cold and hadn't slept in like 2 days!), and then Beth took the phone back and said I was not allowed to make fun of her for Keith Foulke anymore because of the "flipbook" of photos I had taken of Brandon Inge on Opening Day. To which I respond: whatever, madam. Our seats were situated so that we HAD to be looking at Mr. Inge all game long. And he's cuter than Foulke. And has knees. And actually likes baseball. ("Oh, so that's how it is!" Beth responded to that last) Plus he wears high socks. Are you all with me, people?
So I'm pleased to note that we won today (yesterday), that Papi is getting into full-on "fear my jovial wrath" mode, that Youks is still hitting pretty darn well, that Clement got a nice little ego-boosting win despite not pitching spectacularly, that Papelbon continues to Save, making the pressure on him to not blow one just that much more ridiculously strong.
And can we talk about his mohawk for just a second? As near as I can tell, he reached a certain number of saves, and this somehow meant he lost a bet with Youks, and thus had to have the mohawk, um, created. Does that not seem to fishy to anyone else? He WON the bet by performing up to a certain level, and his reward is letting Kevin Youkilis, who LOST the bet by not performing up to whatever level they had set for him (a certain number of homers etc. I think), do whatever he wishes to his (Papelbon's) hair. In what Bizarro universe does that make sense?
The moral of the story, I'm pretty certain, is just to not bet with Kevin Youkilis, ever.
So, the schedule as it stands right now. Wood studio, packing, studying, panicking, and last day of teaching at the prison on Monday. Lunch with next year's roommate, shipping of several boxes, packing, studying, and panicking Tuesday. Biospsych final and probably all-nighter of packing Wednesday. Move-out on Thursday. Chilling in Southfield and nighttime Tigers game on Friday. Drive back to MA on Saturday. Attain coma-like state on Sunday. And then I'm back in the land of WEEI and NESN, and you'll all have to suffer a more oft-updated blog.Labels: baseball, Mike Timlin, MLB, rant, terrible
4:34 AM
|
|
