Tagged: Dustin Pedroia

Those Red Sox People Are So Amusing

Here’s the headline that generated my laughter today.

2011 Red Sox Will Challenge 1927 Yankees for Title of Greatest Team in Major League History

It was from a blog on NESN that was brought to my attention by Paul Lebowitz’s blog earlier. Now don’t get me wrong; the Red Sox made terrific deals to upgrade their team this off-season, and my Red Sox fan friends (yes, I do have a few) are rightfully delirious with their shiny new acquisitions, just as we were when CC, AJ and Tex landed in our laps. But “the greatest team in major league history?”


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That’s just plain hilarious. For starters, I wouldn’t be caught dead writing a headline like that, given how superstitious I am. (Talk about a jinx.) For another thing, isn’t it a little nutty to make such a grandiose prediction this early, particularly after 2010 when the Red Sox were supposed to be locked and loaded and instead ended up sending everybody to the DL? And finally, the author of this masterpiece decided to compare the 2011 Red Sox with the 1927 Yankees? 
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There’s a reason the ’27 Yanks were called “Murderers’ Row.” (And it wasn’t because they had a bunch of murderers on the team, which reminds me: Did everyone read about O’s pitcher Simon? Allegedly, he shot and killed a guy in the Dominican over the weekend and wounded another. I hate when that happens.) Babe Ruth hit 60 homers that year and Gehrig 47, and the others in the lineup were no slouches either. The team dominated, absolutely dominated. So my question is this…Will the 2011 Red Sox dominate in the same way? Can any team dominate in the same way, given the competition these days? And who would comprise Boston’s Murderers’ Row? Crawford and Gonzalez are really good but are they Ruth and Gehrig? Are Pedroia and Youkilis? No doubt they’ll all score a ton of runs, but I’m just not ready to anoint them as the “greatest team in major league history.” That’s like saying the chicken and barley stew I made last night was the “greatest comfort food in culinary history.” I mean, it was excellent, if I do say so myself, but….Well, you get my drift.
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Trying To Stay Calm

I got home late from my Thursday night writer’s workshop, and immediately starting thinking about Yankees-Red Sox. Will the Yankees break their 2009 losing streak at Fenway? Will they continue their winning ways? Or will the suddenly hot Sox reassert themselves in The Rivalry and succeed in inching closer to first place?
I decided to put my musings here. Let’s go to the videotape.
What’s your prediction for Game 1?

Yanks/Sox Game 2: Looking On The Bright Side

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I’m not saying that losing the second of two back-to-back marathons against the Red Sox is easy. I mean, the Yanks scored nearly a dozen runs without our best hitter (A-Rod) and another big bat (Nady) and yet we didn’t win the game? That’s just grotesque.
But before I throw myself off the ledge following the 16-11 defeat, let me at least shoot for a little perspective.
Here are a ten fun things to take away from the game. Yes, fun!
#1) It was a good old-fashioned slugfest.
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#2) The Yankees hitters made Josh Beckett work.
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#3) We found out that AJ Burnett has the ability to go all Jekyll and Hyde on us at any moment.
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#4) The ancient Angel Berroa was in the lineup and succeeded in not making a single error.
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#5) We got to watch Dustin Pedroia do his best Bill Buckner imitation.
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#6) Tex walked five times.
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#7) Jose Veras had the delivery of a break dancer.
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#8) Pitchers on both teams were bad.
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#9) Joe Girardi and Terry Francona channeled Grady Little by leaving their starters in too long.
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#10) Nobody came down with swine flu during the nearly five-hour game.
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There. Feel better? I do.

Yankees-Red Sox Discussion Leads To Marital Discord!

So there I was, sitting across the dinner table from my husband Michael, when I mentioned that the Yankees were playing the Red Sox in Ft. Myers tomorrow night. He didn’t twitch or grimace or even roll his eyes; he kept right on eating his grilled chicken.
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She-Fan: “You don’t hate the Red Sox?”
Michael: “No.”
She-Fan: “Come on.”
Michael: “I don’t hate any team.”
She-Fan: “Then how about their players?”
Michael: “I don’t hate them, either. There are players that get under my skin though.”
She-Fan: “Like who?”
Michael: “Pedroia and Youkilis. But I don’t hate them. I don’t hate anyone or anything.”
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She-Fan (skeptical): “What are you, Gandhi? How about Schilling? You always call him a blowhard.”
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Michael: “If I were a hating type of person, he’s someone I would hate. But I’m not.”
She-Fan: “Fine. What about Travis Hafner? He made you crazy during the ’07 playoffs.”
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Michael: “Yeah. He went, like, 0-for-98 against us in the regular season and then murdered us in the ALDS. He really annoyed me, but I don’t hate him.”
She-Fan: “John Lackey?”
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Michael: “He seems arrogant and not that good. Very annoying.”
She-Fan: “But not hate-worthy.”
Michael: “Right.”
She-Fan (frustrated): “Let’s move off the subject of baseball. You hate your cousin Skip, don’t you?”
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Michael: “He’s a user. Never picks up a check.”
She-Fan: “So you hate him. Admit it.”
Michael: “I do.”
She-Fan: “Bingo. Anyone else?”
Michael (pushing his chair back from the table and nodding): “Al Pacino. He used to be such a good actor. Now he’s a big windbag. Hate him.”
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She-Fan: “O.K. We’re getting somewhere. Who else?”
Michael: “Ann Coulter. Morally and politically bankrupt.”
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She-Fan: “Not surprising.”
Michael: “And disco. I really hate disco.”
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She-Fan: “Well, we hardly ever -“
Michael: “Curry. I hate the smell of it, the taste of it, everything about it.”
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Michael (getting riled up): “And I despise all vegetables except carrots.”
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She-Fan: “I know, but it would be good for you if -“
Michael: “The color pink. It reminds me of bubble gum that gets stuck in your sneaker treads.”
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She-Fan (soothingly, as if speaking to a mental patient): “Why don’t we forget all this harsh talk and watch some TV.”
Michael: “Anderson Cooper.”
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Michael: “He’s a complete fool. I hate the way he says ‘Nawlins’ instead of ‘New Orleans.’ Like he’s from the Ninth Ward instead of the Upper East Side. Give me a break. And he plays the serious news anchor one minute, then turns around and co-hosts Regis & Kelly. I hate them all. They’re liars and phonies and -“
She-Fan: “YOU NEED TO STOP THIS!”
Michael: “The thing I really hate is when you yell at me.”
I apologized. We made up. And then we went back to talking about baseball.

Like CC Sabathia, I Lack “Feel”

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In the Yankees’ 7-4 loss to the Tigers today, CC had a five-run meltdown in the second inning and was pulled. After the game, he said he lacked feel but was confident he’d find it. He looks confident, doesn’t he? He’ll be fine. Better than fine.
But what about me? I lack feel as a fan, and I don’t know if I’ll ever find it. I’m speaking of my feel, not for the Yankees, but for the WBC, the tournament I’m supposed to care passionately about but do not. Right this minute, for instance, I’m watching Team USA against Venezuela and I can’t keep my eyes open. In other words, I should be exhibiting the enthusiasm of this fan.
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And instead, I’m exhibiting the stupor of this woman.
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Perhaps it’s the announcers, who are congenial enough but don’t convey a sense of urgency about the proceedings. Maybe it’s the fact that the Rogers Centre is practically empty and you can hear every whistle and catcall. Or maybe it’s simply that the game has all the thrills of an All-Star event – i.e. I’m not invested in the outcome.
Of course, I love seeing Jeter.
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But that’s because he’s a Yankee. The truth is I’d rather be watching him at spring training in Tampa with other Yankees, not galavanting around North America with Dustin Pedroia. I mean, it’s very sweet that they’re bonding, but the person he should be bonding with is this guy.
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Tex has been with the team for two minutes. It would be nice if the Captain got to know him before the season starts.
I know what you’re thinking: I’m a complete whiner.
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I just want to see the Yankees. That’s all. I think it’s great that the team from the Netherlands has advanced, and other heartwarming stories abound. But I have a one-track mind. I do. It’s the Yankees or nothing for me.

Big Floppy? Dustin Who?

Thanks to tonight’s 12-inning nail biter at Fenway, the Angels live another day. I didn’t expect it, did you? Not after the Angels only scratched out one run in the first. Not after Hunter and Kendrick let that blooper drop between them. Not after K-Rod loaded the bases. Such drama. But Napoli was stellar at the plate and Weaver, not one of the most intimidating pitchers around, somehow managed to shut the Sox down.

But then maybe it’s not so hard to shut them down. Not when two of their best hitters have been (well, there’s no kind way to say it) useless. I’m not talking about Lowell, poor guy. He looks like he should just check himself into the hospital already and let a surgeon sew him back together like the scarecrow in “The Wizard of Oz.” No, I’m talking about this man. 
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Big Papi was a big floppy tonight, not counting those walks. Come to think of it, he just hasn’t been the hulking presence that used to strike fear in the hearts of Yankee fans everywhere. Is it his wrist that’s bothering him? Is it not having Manny behind him in the lineup? Is it – oh, no! – that his skills are declining? 
And what about this guy, the one who’s supposed to be the AL MVP?
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Dusty hasn’t had a hit in this series. Imagine that. Maybe baseball is a tough game after all, even for scrappy little guys with lots and lots of cockiness confidence.
Clearly, these two need to start hitting if the Sox plan on getting to the WS and winning it.
In the meantime, I hope this series ends soon so I don’t have to listen to Buck Martinez’s fingernail-on-a-blackboard voice or watch every time the camera at Fenway finds this man.
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Stephen King is a diehard Sox fan. We all know that. But he’s also a lifelong Yankees hater, and that is a cardinal sin. Recently, my publisher suggested we send him an advance copy of “Confessions of a She-Fan,” thinking he might read my book and give us a blurb for the cover. It wasn’t a totally ridiculous idea. Years ago, I was King’s publicist on his novel “Carrie” and we had what I remember as a brief but cordial relationship. So what happens after we sent him my book? We got an email from his editors saying, “Stephen King is too rabid a Red Sox fan to be able to stomach even a funny book praising the Yanks.” Fine. Whatever. Just know that I hold grudges.