Red Sox DNA Redeemed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Moment

Yesterday I wrote about the old getting up and going to work with a hangover muscles that hadn’t been exercised in a while.  They’ve apparently atrophied a lot more than I thought but as I made my way through the fog shrouded roads (mirroring my consciousness levels) to work today I could not stop smiling.  THEY DID IT!!!!

Those scraggly faced bearded wonders are world champions!  More than anything they re-forged a bond with their fans that was sadly missing for the last few years.  Anyone growing up in New England is exposed to Red Sox nation and most succumb to the siren song of life long, bone deep fandom.  It’s really ingrained into the sinews of the region.  My father, who died in 1977, has retreated further into my memory with the passing years but I always feel incrementally closer to him whenever I watch the Sox snatching wisps of memories of his inducting me into Red Sox lore.  Last night that wind was blowing at gale force strength.

That’s why there are so many Red Sox fans around the country and the world.  Subsequent generations may move out of New England but they rarely deny their birthright and transfer their loyalties to another team.  That’s why it’s called Red Sox nation.



Watching the Game Last Night

Sox fans felt that bond wasn’t respected the last few years culminating in last year’s bloated collection of underachievers masquerading as our beloved Sox.  Last night culminated the season long march to recapture that connection.

I stopped on my way home from work yesterday to buy some beer and champagne – something I never would have dared to do prior to 2004.  This generation of Red Sox fans is different – we expect to win. Of course, the first beer didn’t appear until the sixth inning (I’m not without some pre-2004 residual fears) with the Red Sox comfortably ahead. 

In a season of redemption it was completely appropriate that John Lackey pitched the Sox to the title.  Fairly or unfairly he was one of the lightning rods for the unlikable Sox of the past.  He pitched his ass off last night and finally acknowledged the fans as he left the game last night by tipping his cap.  The place exploded in appreciation.

Love you Man!

My wife and I watched the game together along with the Wonder Pooch.  He had to abandon the lap dog mentality since I was jumping up and cheering so much.  He took this a license to demand empty soda bottle chases between innings.  As the empty beer bottles accumulated I was wearing out the Lord’s Prayer for each Cardinal batter. 

My Wife's First Move - The Clippers

The game ended with the wife and I jumping around and dancing in a manner that was completely inappropriate for our age.  Screw it – we’re Sox fans.  We were soon joined by our daughter via Skype who had watched the game from enemy territory in New York with a like minded group of fans.  I was semi-delirious at that moment and kind of remember talking with her.  My son in law and I compared doomed playoff beards and I so enjoyed sharing this special moment with them.  My big sister also called and we shared a fun conversation.  Her husband, biggest Sox fan I know, was covering the game at Fenway and spoke about the difficulty of overcoming fan status to professionally execute his duties.  After the last out I think he let that façade fade for a few seconds to savor the moment.  

Daughter (bottom right) and Son In Law (top right)
Celebrating in the Heart Of the Evil Empire - SWEEEET!!!!!!

We’re planning a Saturday gathering in Rhode Island to celebrate the title.  Finally my poor son was cut off from the region wide celebration on a business trip down in Virginia so we made repeated Skype calls to his hotel room until he finally sleepily and good naturedly answered. This was something that had to be shared – he’s got the Red Sox DNA as well.  I’m sure this was going on all over the country last night as families reached out to their loved ones and shared the euphoria.

A Sleep Deprived Son Tolerating his Very Excited Parents

Last night as I headed to bed I glanced upwards and mouthed a silent thank you to my Dad for endowing me with the gift that is the love of the Red Sox.

Thanks Dad

The Wife Wouldn't Go For The Civil War Era Look
I Think I could Have Pulled it Off

 

Back to Normal - I'll Stop Shocking Myself Every Time I Walk by a Mirror

Counseling Gone Amuck

Okay, last night was a night without baseball, hopefully something I can count on after tonight (GO SOX!).  Since this diamond vacation fell on date night I thought it was a win – win situation.  Then I made the mistake of going to see the Counselor.

Best Counsel I can Give - Don't See This

I thought this would be a slam dunk. Ridley Scott directing a collection of A-List stars with a Cormac McCarthy script.  How wrong I was.  This movie gets hoisted by its own petard by deliberately being obscure to the point of utter irrelevance.  I mean, I get it, drugs and the people who deal in them are bad, but this mess of a movie almost has you rooting for the cartel to wipe out the “heroes” because they’ve been spouting such nonsense on screen.

The blame here lies directly with McCarthy who as a screenwriter is a great novelist.  Obviously, because of his literary stature, no one had the cojones to tell him how bad his script was.  The superb actors try to lift the material but even they are incapable of making this watchable.  While one character is supposedly being tortured to death we have ten minutes of Ruben Blades as a drug lord spouting Kierkegaardisms about the transitory nature of life – Huh?

Maybe someone a lot smarter than me can make some sense out of this murky drama but that’s not a person I want to hang out with.  This is a case of a movie that aims to try something new but in doing so crashes and burns rather spectacularly.  There is no value at being vague simply to be vague.

Guest Bathroom Prep

My wife shared my lofty opinion of the movie.  I think she would even take in another showing of Machete Kills before seeing this again (well maybe not).  She had a very busy day yesterday starting her guest bathroom painting project.  She had the bathroom stripped out and began applying tape before I came home to remove the mirror as well as various other surfaces we don’t want paint on.  There'll be a lot less yellow in the very near future.

One of the coolest things about the information age is when someone sees something amazing it’s become increasingly easy to share that experience with friends via the internet.  I was running the traps through Facebook yesterday when I saw a video posted by one of my high school classmates (none other than Ms. KHS herself).  It was a real sock dropper.  A Dutch girl on one of those inexorable talent shows provides a brief glimpse of heaven.

The wife is sharpening her clippers for the playoff beard which will hopefully meet its fate tonight as the Sox close in on the World Series title they’ve earned.  The beard may survive another day because it would not be intelligent to shave after indulging in demon alcohol.  Let me be very clear (Yikes, an Obama-ism) – if the Sox win tonight there will be a celebration at the house involving beer.  I know it’s a school night but come on – a Sox title?!!!!  Luckily I spent a great deal of a misspent youth learning how to get up for work with a hangover.  It’s been a few years but the muscles are still there.

GO SOX!!!!!! Tonight’s the Night!

Playoff Beard - Doomed Tonight!!!!

Downhill Construction Nearing Finish Line

Bleary Eyed Bliss

I’m joining the rest of bearded New England showing up for work a little bleary eyed as we watch the Red Sox’ magnificent late night march through St Louis.  Last night was a signature win and the handwriting was supplied by a tall left hander.  John Lester established a niche for himself in the pantheon of World Series heroes with another dominant performance.  He’ll occupy the niche right next Ortiz who is playing on an otherworldly level and is hustling more than I’ve ever seen – 2 infield hits in one series! 

One More time!

Thank God Farrell left Lester in long enough to bridge to Uehara and there was nary a Breslow sighting.  Take notes for Wednesday’s game with Lackey, wash, repeat.  The Sox head back to Boston needing only 1 win and then some of us can get some sleep and cease the relentless bombardment of Viagra and Cialis ads.  Four hours!  Really?!

Job Well Done as Lester Exits

My wife and I have been firmly ensconced in Couch Potato positions 1 and 2 for all of the games.  We’ve even established a routine for all positive plays which involves defensive moves to protect against Buddy’s attempt to join the high fiving.  Buddy once again thinks he’s a lap dog, all 85 pounds of him, which leaves my legs asleep at some inopportune times. 

Buddy in Couch Potato Position 1A Last Night - Thinks He's A Beagle
That Could Explain the Cowardice

Yesterday was my annual physical and attendant probing of nether regions.  I am sworn by a certain sister to accurately report all medical findings upon pain of requiring medical attention.  The doctor was psyched by the weight loss and attendant feelings of well being.  He said my blood pressure showed dramatic improvement.  Since I didn’t know that had been an area of concern I decided not to ask a question I didn’t need the answer for.  He did draw some blood so I’ll be hearing shortly about what the diet has done for the cholesterol level and the obligatory lecture from certain spousal units.

Return of the Beautiful PanaGals
My Sister in Law in all of her Scholarly Splendor

The gorgeous Panagals from the January 2013 posts in this blog are getting into the celebratory act for the Red Sox.  One of them sent photos of another, who just happens to be my famous sister in law, garbed in her teacher uniform and specifically requested I post them to the blog.  I’m hoping this is just for Halloween but knowing my beloved sister in law (queridissima hermanita!), anything is possible.  I may never return to Panama.

Yep, Going to Have Hit Teams Waiting on Me

As stated in the opening line, all of New England, bearded and otherwise, is staying up late with the Red Sox.  During my drive to work yesterday I was waiting at a light when I was rear ended, semi-gently.  I looked up and there was another middle aged guy with a scraggly beard driving the car that hit me.  I didn’t even pull over as there wasn’t any damage; we’re all a little tired right now. 

Go Sox!  One more win!

Playoff Beard Entering it's Final Two Days of Existence
Your Work is Almost Done!

Cosmic Doorways

New England sports entered some kind of bizarre cosmic doorway on Saturday night that took some time to escape.  First the Bruins blew a lead and gave up two goals in the last minute to lose to a terrible New Jersey team.  I won’t bore you with another rendition of the travesty that was the end of the Red Sox game later that night.  The trend continued yesterday with the Patriots looking overmatched against those perennial doormats – the Miami Dolphins.  Something was definitely askew with the universe and we had another World Series game coming up!  However the beard abides.

The Patriots discovered they were the Patriots playing the Dolphins and laid them out.  While this team is definitely not the flashy offensive juggernaut of prior years they are solid and the defense finally has some attitude, except when it’s third and long (when is that going to stop?).  Brady still has a few bullets in the magazine and he employed what little he did have to lead the Pats back to an important win.

Now that the cosmos had somehow righted itself I felt a little better going into the baseball game.  Then Buchholz started throwing 88 mile fast balls (Uhh Ohhh!)  Mysteriously the Cardinals still couldn’t seem to hit what he was throwing.  The leader of the bearded ones who shall hereafter be referred to as “Mr. Gomes” completely ruined the night for the heretofore vaunted rookie Cardinal relief corps by launching a three run homer that ultimately proved enough to win despite Breslow’s latest effort to thwart.  He needs to take a seat next to Franklin Morales – he’s not fooling a single Cardinal. 

Mr Gomes Admired Last Night's Handiwork Leave the Field

When Mr. Gomes homered, Buddy was awoken from a deep sleep which seemed to involve dreams of chasing something (squirrels would be my guess) based on his rapid paw movement.  He immediately launched himself into the post homer celebration, wreaking some havoc, and then made off with one of my wife’s shoes.  We all celebrate in our own fashion.

And all of New England Screams With You

Speaking of doorways on a more mundane level I had a handyman (Panamanian mafia certified) in yesterday to look at the rapidly deteriorating base of the side door of the house.  He said the original builders must have failed to properly seal it and water was getting inside – a very bad thing.  He said that I should replace the whole thing so he can find where the problem is and seal it up right. 

I specifically wanted to buy a new house when I retired so I wouldn’t have to deal with the problems of older houses (been there – done that).  I guess houses get to be older by being well built or fixing all the initial problems the builders messed up.  I’m going through the process of trying to see that happens now. The joy of home ownership is so multi-faceted.  

Damaged Door

Two more games of life for the playoff beard with my wife poised with clippers for the final out.  It survives at least until Wednesday – GO SOX GO!!!!!

Playoff Beard - Two More Red Sox Wins of Life Remain

You Have Got to be Kidding Me!!!

For the second time in less than a week a Boston sports team has been victimized by officials making a technically correct but terribly timed call.  The Patriots were the victim last week but last night an umpire ruled obstruction when a fat ass Cardinal player tripped over a prone Sox player.  Common sense would say you don’t let a play such as this decide a game, much less a World Series game but then you look at the umpire involved.

And this Decides a Game?!

He’s the same bozo who blew a call to prevent a young pitcher from achieving a perfect game a couple years ago and now has found a way to interject himself again.  Then just to rub a little salt into the wound we got to see ex(?)-Yankee Joe Torre sit with the umpires to justify their idiocy. 

I’m sure Cardinals fans would be up in arms if the call had not been made but this was too good a game to let it end the way it did.  Something I’ve noticed during the series is that several of the umps seem swayed by the home crowd.  Cardinal pitchers were getting the low strike consistently last night while the Sox were not.  Same ump that almost blew the call in the first game.  Where do they get these guys?

During the baseball prep phase of the day I made a cardinal mistake myself.  I allowed myself to go shopping with my wife.  This is never a good idea as she is decision-challenged, something I find hard to tolerate in silence.  Like I said, it’s not a good mix.  She decreed it’s time to paint a couple rooms and she had to select the paint color.  Warning bells were going off all over.

The "Process" Underway

I was good for the first 45 minutes but nature took its course and we eventually reached the melting point.  She had semi-made a decision when all of a sudden she hadn’t.  She responds to my impatience about as well as I do to her indecisiveness.  It galls me that she’s usually absolutely correct when she eventually does make a decision.  After an hour and a half of touching virtually every color palette available we had a decision on two of the three rooms.  Again she was right on with the selections.  She mentioned something about not hurrying an artist at work.

I cut my losses and returned home for some contemplative time on the riding lawn mower.  I should have been paying better attention near the wood line where I learned the origin and the validity of the old saying – “It’s better than a sharp stick in the eye”.  There’s one less tree in the wood line today.

Buddy's New Move

Buddy joined me in front of the television for the required couch potato time.  He’s developed a new talent.  He’ll jump up on the couch, sit down next to me and then lean back until he’s lying on his back next to me.  What dog does that?  It turns out his belly ends up in prime rubbing position so I think there’s a method to his madness.

Finally Found the Lowering Components

Technology isn’t always a time saver.  On our way home from Keene last week the warning light for low tire pressure went on in the car my wife usually drives.  She immediately entered the panic zone and disregarded my findings that all the tires were fully inflated and seemed fine.  Yesterday I finally read the owner’s manual who said the system also warns about spare tire inflation problems.  I then had to find my way through the maze of compartments and assembled three different components – just to lower the spare tire, which was underinflated.  The lights off.  Thanks technology.

The Assembled Tools Inside the Third Compartment

Go Sox!


Playoff Beard Ends Final Week of Existence - One Way or Another

Heated Debate and Master Read

I’m lucky enough to be married to an extremely tropical young lady.  Since she has the misfortunate to be married to a rock hearted (headed?) New Englander we have the great annual debate – When does the heat get turned on?  Some years her campaign begins in early September.  When her family visited one year in August they were pulling out blankets and quilts. 

I resist and not for just the economic reasons – I kind like a brisk morning with the windows open.  Over her forced residency in New England she’s toughened up.  Last winter we got her out into the snow a couple times – completely unheard of in prior years when she disappeared from external environments from November to March.  This year as the temperatures headed south I kept expecting to hear a demand for heat but none was forthcoming.  Male pride, being what it is, prevented me for suggesting it when the frigid morning floors started to exceed the “brisk” zone.  This week the overnight temps were in the low 30’s and yesterday saw the first frost.  Thankfully she finally made the request and the heat is on.  When I asked her about the extended wait – she simply stated – “I’m not a wimp!”  Truer words were never spoken.

My Date Last Night - The Snow Bunny

Since this is more of a routine weekend we were able to return to our normal Friday night haunt – Zorba’s.  I’ve synchronized my one day a week keto vacation with Fridays (no fool, am I) so I can sample the mystically imbued pizza.  We had the platonically worshipped, hot waitress who said the entire staff was happy we had returned to our pizza ordering ways.  They felt something was wrong with the cosmos during the six months of prime rib.

Dessert Last Night - Definitely Keto Vacation Day - So Goooooood!

These Friday night dates have become something we both look forward to because it gives us a chance to sit across the table from each other and catch up.  Although this happens repeatedly during the week at home there’s always something distracting going on – a television, Buddy’s latest faux pas, or the ever present telephone calls.  We end up spending an hour an a half just talking (I’ve been trained to avoid looking at the ever present, huge Zorba’s TV’s laden with sports programming) and we’ve kind of discovered we enjoy each other’s company.  Who saw that coming?

I just finished reading the master Stephen King’s latest offering Doctor Sleep.  It was the usual immersion with characters so real and well written but facing the supernatural creeping in when least expected.  He’s done a very interesting thing in taking the characters from his earlier novel, The Shining, and letting us know what happened to them.

Great Read

The little boy, Danny, is now a 40 year old recovering alcoholic.  He’s called upon to save a young girl, also blessed with the shining talent, from a roving group of creatures who feed on the shining by torturing the children possessing the talent.  In typical King fashion he makes these supremely evil folk seem mundane by having them cruise around the country posing as senior citizens driving huge RVs.  He taps into the frustration we all feel when we get stuck behind one of these monsters going up a hill and then imbuing them insidiously evil power.  Be careful the next time you curse at one of them seems to be the message.

I call King the master because he has the ability to transport you with words, a rare talent.  He’s chosen a genre the more snooty literary elements look down upon but his talent is relentless and at least to me, irresistible.  Add to that, I’m sure he has some serious psychic ability (just read last year’s blog entry when I was reading Under the Dome).  Doctor Sleep is a great read, but since it’s King – that’s a given.

Last night ended up back in the family room where the wife and I watched a movie – appropriately – The Heat. 

Playoff Beard - Vigrous Exercise Tonight

Go Red Sox, tonight!!!

Disappointment Reigns

Last night was proceeding according to script.  The Red Sox finally touched up the impressive Cardinals’ rookie pitcher and entered the seventh inning with a 2-1 lead.  Lackey was cruising and had that bulldog look that made him such an implacable foe when he used to pitch against us.

Then it all went wrong.  Lackey allowed two base runners with one out and I was praying Farrell would leave him in to firmly establish his legend.  Unfortunately on came Breslow whose unbelievable run of success was overdue to end and did in spectacular fashion when he walked the #9 hitter and then threw the ball into the stands to allow the winning run across.

Breslow Staring at his Goat Status

So now we have a series, which was expected but not welcome.  The prophet of doom sits firmly on the shoulders of every Red Sox fan over the age of 50.  It happens in the regular season as well when we feel the season is imploding after every loss.  The very cool thing about this team though is that they are the anti-Sox. Even a will crushing loss like this has only seemed to galvanize them.  I expect a bounce back win Saturday night. 

At least this means the Sox will finally win the World Series back at Fenway Park which would be immensely memorable.

I was so pissed by the end of the game I refused to surrender to sleep.  I stayed up well after midnight watching an episode from the 5^th season of Breaking Bad.  My daughter was right – this is truly compelling television.  The final episode of the 4^th season was mind blowing in the typical understated yet jaw dropping moments I’ve come to expect from the show.  When Gus walks out of the retirement home explosion and then slowly turns – YIKES!

This Scene Will Go Down as One of Greatest Reveals in Television History

It’s been fascinating to watch the evolution of Walter White from a meek high school chemistry teacher to an anti-hero of truly gargantuan stature.  Just when you think you know him – they peel back another layer.  I finally understand the fascination with this show.  I cannot believe they somehow made the initially despicable Jesse a sympathetic character. 

Playoff Beard Doesn't Do It's Job Last Night

Well, That Went Well

Yesterday certainly drove a stake the heart of any lingering Monday blues.  I still had to spend an inordinate amount of time resetting all the various passwords from the crashed computer – when did life become so password dependant?

The day took the expected upturn at my weekly hump day lunch with my favorite son who works a few miles down the road from Worcester.  We were able to share opinions on the past weekend, his upcoming marriage to the fabulous MEF, and most importantly the Sox’ chances last night against the Cardinals.  These lunches have become a staple for my continued sanity.  After having to spend so much time away from my kids during my military career I consider it a boon of not inconsiderable value to sit down across the table from this guy every week.  True wealth doesn’t have a dollar amount – it’s the quality of people you get to spend your life with – something you can never put a price tag on.

Lunch Date Yesterday

Everybody in New England was gearing up for the baseball game against the formidable Cardinals last night.  Buddy the Wonder Pooch even brought his collection of bones out of hiding and distributed them around the family room floor so leaving the couch while the game was on was fraught with danger.  The dog understands the superstitions of baseball so well.

Buddy - Doing His Part

The game itself was an exercise of incredulity as the supposedly fundamentally sound Cardinals wilted almost immediately in the spotlight of the World Series, making a series of blunders before finding themselves.  By that time they were behind 5-0 and the Sox were rolling.  In a move that never (and I mean never) happens, the umpires actually got together and overturned an obviously blown call in favor of the Red Sox.  Can you say, “destiny”, this Sox team has it written all over themselves.  Of course this is baseball and momentum is only as good as the next night’s starting pitcher but this is certainly a better start than imagined even in dreams of the wildest persuasion.

Easy to See Why the Ump Blew the Call - He Couldn't See The Play
Where did They Find This Bozo?

One of the nicest moments of the night was during the pre-game introductions when three recent winners of the Congressional Medal of Honor came on to the field to be honored.  I was hoping the Fenway crowd would realize how rare and special a gathering this was.  As with everything last night the crowd roared their approval to properly honor these heroes.

My wife spent the night firmly ensconced next to me at Couch Potato Station #2.  She’s a violently emotional supporter of the Sox and when the Sox were comfortably ahead she drew out her I-Pad and spent the rest of the game commencing the months long search for the proper dress to wear to next August’s wedding ceremony.  This is not a small thing (I’m told).  She only looked up when I yelled in approval/ displeasure of what was going on or when Buddy periodically stole one of her shoes.

Sweet Ending

An electric night; the beard abides for at least one more night.

Beard's Life Extended at Least One More Night

 

Front Yard Foliage I was Writing About Yesterday