The Boston Red Sox: Defenders of the 2004 World Championship!! "Whoever plunges into his experiences with the momentum of hope, will remember so that he cannot forget." - Soren Kierkegaard.

Saturday, April 23, 2005

First off, let me just say that I have nothing but disdain for the Devil Rays as a team, as a fanbase, as a franchise and as individual people, down to a man. Except for Sweet Lou.

Second: I hate, hate, hate Scott Kazmir. I want to stuff his little bitch ass into a tire and roll him down Vine St. wearing a swastika t-shirt with a bag of crack pinned to the front. I would love to run into this guy at that Golden Moment of Drunkeness when you're so fucked up but you feel so good that you'll try anything, cause I bet I could whip his ass. Seriously. I'm about six feet tall, I weigh like 200 lbs, and I don't fight fair. Hmmm...the Tampa Bay Devil Rays are coming to Cincinnati in July to play the Reds...

Third: I cannot stand to listen to overly self-congratulatory announcers, especially when they are announcing for really mediocre/piss-poor teams like the Rockies or, say, the Devil Rays. I mean, Michael Kay is bad enough, but at least the Yankees have like, a winning history and the ever-present threat of being sent to the gulag by Czar Steinbrenner to back up his shameless dick suckery. But the Devil Rays? Did anyone get to see those guys? They have two of the worst toupees in the history of mankind, and if I have to hear anything else about how "electric" Scott Kazmir's stuff is or how great that wife-beating mongoloid Julio Lugo is I'm going to break something. You announce for the fucking DEVIL RAYS. Didn't you guys just have your first season not in last place or something? Or maybe it was your first season playing .300+ baseball, I can't remember. In any case, go fuck yourselves.

Fourth: What is up with the homeplate umpires the Sox have been getting lately? Last night the strike zone was apparently about the same size and shape as the outline of a Cadillac Catera if one were to park it a shade to the left of home plate. Not to mention that every close call was pretty much going to the D-Bags.

Fifth: "Boots" Bellhorn is trying my patience.

Sixth: Matt I can say is that I hope he caught Varitek's cold from one of the mound visits his shoddy pitching necessitated.

Seventh: The Sox battled back against the D-Bags' "bullpen" to tie the score at 4 in the ninth inning, only to have Alan Embree come out in the bottom of the ninth and give up a walk-off home run on like the first pitch he threw, which is also known as "Pulling a Vazquez." Last night's game was like having your girlfriend over after school while your parents aren't home, but by the time you get her to make out with you it's like 5:00 and your dad is due home at any time and you end up getting half a handjob because right when shit is starting to get good you hear the car door slam in the driveway.