Category Archives: Red Sox

Ill-conceived pun on Boston.com leaves a bad taste in everyone’s mouth

Posted on July 12, 2011 | Leave a comment

This is what happens when headline writers cram poorly constructed puns down readers’ throats.

In Kyle Weiland’s major league debut on Sunday, he was tossed from the ballgame in the fourth inning. Other strange things happened as well – a veritable salad of events, including a home run from Marco Scutaro. The whole of the game itself could be considered the lettuce while numerous ejections of players and managers on both sides served as the proverbial tomatoes, onions, cucumbers and sliced carrot.

Thus, the Boston Globe’s online story two days later headlined A Tossed salad for Weiland, was hastily changed to the less suggestive – albeit as perverse on a grammatical level – Lot’s going on in Kyle Weiland’s debut.

There is probably a pretty good joke that could be made here, especially in light of the fact that the gaffe came on the same day the site devoted an entire article to an interview with a Fenway Park hot dog vendor. But unplanting our tongues from our cheeks for a little while suddenly doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

To be completely Ernest, the whole thing has left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth.

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Fans in box seats who don’t fist-roll are self-centered jerks

Posted on June 22, 2011 | Leave a comment

Back before the Red Sox won the World Series for the first time in 86 years, practically no one important wanted anything to do with the team. In fact, as recently the late 1980s, Jerry Remy’s Bar & Grill on Boylston St. looked nothing like it does today as it was nothing but a modest industrial mill employing roughly 50 day laborers.

After work, those same blue-collar millworkers got soused on cheap, locally brewed lager and sat behind home plate for a price equivalent to a few hours’ wages. They yelled and cheered for guys like Ellis Burks, Jody Reed and Mike Greenwell; they stood for two-strike counts; and they fist-rolled.

Oh, did they ever fist-roll.

That jarring motion of rolling forearms just inside the pitcher’s peripheral vision resulted in uncharacteristic loss of strike-zone command, disorientation and, in many cases, projectile vomiting due to nausea.

Think Alfredo Aceves’ five consecutive walks in Tuesday night’s loss to the Padres was a bizarre display of pitching yips? Well, Fenway fans rolled their fists so furiously during one game in 1990 that a confounded Chuck Finley threw an entire inning with his right arm even though he was predominantly left-handed. The Red Sox scored 11 runs on only two hits.

But that was back when Bostonians used to make things. Back before Everything Went Corporate.

The Red Sox won it all in 2004 and businesses cashed in. Shortly thereafter, perhaps only coincidentally but most likely not at all, fans’ gamesmanship officially died—grown men were suddenly deeply offended by mostly meaningless hand gestures; passive aggressive T-shirts professing various degrees of suckitude replaced half-joking (but mostly good-natured) death threats aimed at rat-bastard Yankees players and coaches; parents stopped buying their kids multiple bags of Cool Ranch Doritos and jars of peanut butter to snack on during doubleheaders.

In a few blinks of the eye, the Red Sox fan base has gone soft. The fire is officially gone. The old-tymey tenacity has been replaced by lukewarm ‘Let’s Go Red Sox’ chants.

It doesn’t have to be like this, of course. In a cruel twist of irony, the last glimmer of hope resides in the people that sit in the box seats behind home plate.

If Fenway’s well-to-do fans can routinely go to the trouble to pull out their cell phones to make sure their best friend from the third grade knows they have seats in the fifth row, there’s no reason why they can’t go the extra mile and churn their fists at a rapid rate of speed while the opposing team’s pitcher is on the mound trying to hone in on home plate.

As denizens of the field box level, these fans enjoy the convenience of never having to leave their seats to purchase beer and concessions. Aramark servers cater to their growingly sophisticated needs throughout the game, affording their full attention to the baseball game and leaving their forearms in perfect position for rolling their fists in an obnoxiously fast circular motion.

Sure, this fist-rolling tactic may sound childish and embarrassingly stupid. But anyone who claims they aren’t interested in the Red Sox winning a ballgame because Justin Verlander got a serious case of vertigo after staring at a bunch of spinning forearms in the box seats isn’t being honest to themselves. As fans of a team that has lost hundreds of at-bats over the last four-plus years from J.D. Drew as a direct result of vertigo, can’t we honestly say we have it coming to us? It’s about time opposing pitchers from around the league start to once again fear pitching in Fenway Park.

There’s no reason why the back of the pitcher’s mound shouldn’t look like some puke-laden L Street sidewalk the day after St. Patrick’s Day.

Of course, results may be mixed. For example, fist-rolling could prove counter-intuitive against pitchers such as Kansas City Royals ace Jeff Francis, who sucks enough in his own right. But generally speaking, it is not unreasonable to expect that nearly every visiting pitcher who takes to the mound will be visibly and hilariously affected.

The time has come to return Fenway Park to its glory days. After some lean, dark days following Boston’s two World Series wins in 2004 and 2007, the fans have finally returned—interested, engaged, “All In!!” at long last. The climb back to .500 after a 2-10 start was long and arduous. Now that the Sox have fulfilled their preseason billing, We Won’t Rest…nay, We Shan’t Rest…until the fist-rolling returns.

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MLB to fine Matsuzaka for threatening to return in 2012

Posted on June 6, 2011 | Leave a comment

Commissioner Bud Selig runs a tight ship when it comes to ballplayers and silly proclamations.

It is, therefore, no surprise that his ears perked up when injured Red Sox pitcher Daisuke Matsuzaka told Boston media on Sunday morning that he is aiming to return to the team in 2012—after he is finished recovering from Tommy John surgery.

The offending remarks from the Japanese right-hander (“I’m sure I will come back to the Red Sox…”) were met with immediate alarm.

“We cannot allow active or former players to terrorize fans and jeopardize the popularity and integrity of our on-field product in any way,” said a spokesperson for the commissioner’s office. “We want to reassure our fans that, under various statutes in the sport’s rulebook (both written and unwritten), as well as relevant modifications to the Geneva Convention and our liberal interpretation of the New Testament, Daisuke Matsuzaka will not be permitted to pitch anywhere in North America ever again.”

Matsuzaka, who has indeed tortured Red Sox fans for years with his deliberate pace and varying degree of effectiveness, returned to Japan last week to finalize plans for reconstructive surgery.

Fans and media alike had presumed the end had mercilessly arrived until the pitcher returned to Boston and expressed optimism at a possible return.

“The very idea that fans could be subjected to not only minor league rehabilitation starts, but also late-season, drama-filled games at the major league level is really pretty upsetting,” Selig said in a statement Monday afternoon. “Four-plus seasons of his work have indeed been plenty. Enough is enough.”

The commissioner’s office expects to finish gathering information about the interview session and finalize Daisuke’s punishment later this week. The team-employed translator on hand at the time of the remarks will also be disciplined for his role.

A portion of the monetary fine that is collected will be donated to government agencies dedicated to ending Attention Deficit Disorder.

Boston fans were understandably distressed as the news spread throughout various news outlets.

“It’s obviously an idle threat, but you have to draw the line somewhere,” said Christopher Mayhew from Brewster. “I feel sorry that Daisuke is hurt and has to go under the knife, but I’m also ecstatic that he’ll be out of my life and that I won’t have to worry about buying tickets to a game he winds up starting.”

Nancy Thwylynski from Uxbridge agreed. “Just more pain for us New England sports fans, I guess. We really have to just continue to endure and pray for closure.”

Amazingly, even Matsuzaka’s agent Scott Boras is on board with what is expected to be a sizable fine for the remarks.

“They have to do something,” Boras said. “I am not prepared to compromise my integrity as an agent by having to put together a free agency proposal for this man. It would simply require too much manpower to attempt to construct a binder of metrics trumpeting him as a viable free agent. Even I know when to call off the dogs.”

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Feeling Bruins Fans’ Pain: A Bostonian’s Guide to Proper Fan Righteousness

Posted on June 1, 2011 | Leave a comment

With the Bruins set to participate in the 2011 Stanton’s Cup Finale tonight, it seems like an appropriate time to extol the virtues of effectively admonishing idiotic bandwagon fans who are watching the team for the first time…as opposed to people like us, who began watching the B’s like two months earlier.

Geez, this kid gets AROUND...

As was the case with our mid-2000s Red Sox fan brethren, the resentment is justifiable and well-founded. Use these helpful tips to foil any party-crashers who are clearly at your local pub solely because they believe being shitfaced before the conclusion of the second quarter of a hockey match won’t be frowned upon like it is in the middle of January—a time when you and I can proudly say the team was already “firmly on our radar.”

-Memorize the roster from the relevant team’s previous flirtation with a championship…or buy a smartphone in which you can look up these facts on Wikipedia at a moment’s notice while pretending to urinate in the bathroom. When you are exiting the pisser, make sure it is not obvious you have been consulting your mobile device as your buddies will be highly suspicious of your sudden revelation that you were Reggie Lemelin’s biggest fan. If you sense your cover may be blown, quickly call attention to the fact that one of your pals never even bothered to check out the rack on that 40-year-old broad in the makeshift low-cut Andy Moog jersey.

-Go on the offensive. Like baseball, hockey is filled with a bunch of obscure, confusing rules that can quickly separate the hardcore fans from the latch-ons. A preemptive strike by which you challenge others’ understanding of key concepts such as “four checking” (an attack formation named after Bobby Orr) and “more men than is legally allowable on the ice at one time” (a rule the NHL just added two years ago) will help silence the true imposters before they can even think of questioning your commitment and understanding of the sport.

-Question others’ level of heartbreak following a crushing postseason collapse. Back before the Sox won it all, the gold standard for misery was either 1986 or 2003, depending on one’s age. Boston baseball fans who can’t work themselves up into a lather of tears over the discussion of those fateful collapses quickly prove themselves unworthy. For the Bruins, last year’s epic playoff failure against the Philadelphia Flyers provides a relevant litmus test for hardcore fans trying to weed out fair-weather fans. Make sure you never sway in your position that, although you were crushed, you always Believed with a capital Bruins logo “B” even after the team blew both a 3-0 series lead…and a 3-0 Game 7 lead. Remind people that you had your own “Believe” towels printed last summer well after everyone had already moved on to soccer.

-When necessary, bring into question the offending party’s sexual orientation in analyzing why they had not become fans sooner than last week. This tactic will wound the ego deeply and your position will be immediately bolstered by their unplanned defense of their manhood or womanhood. He (or she, as it were) will likely forget there is even a game going on altogether and you can be sure other patrons will take note of their misguided attention. Note that this technique can be transferred into any number of different situations in life in which you seek a quick resolution to an argument.

-Reference random games from the regular season. For example, if the Bruins fall behind despite outplaying the Canucks in the early going, have a list of games from the regular season in which the flow was frustratingly similar. This signals your clear devotion to the team from the very beginning of it all. No, the games referenced do not have to actually resemble the current game. But the newcomers won’t have the conviction to call you out on it. If they do, just point at the back of your jersey and tell them Ray Bourque wants you to “suck it.”

-Long outwardly for the good old days. Don’t be shy about vocalizing your displeasure at having to bump elbows with “fans” who don’t exhibit the proper level of hate for French Canadians. Adopt the stance that your deceased relatives would have never tolerated the level of sportsmanship that rules the sport of hockey these days and that all Canadian hockey players, other than the Canadian hockey players presently on the Bruins, are a bunch of fairies.

Our Stanford Cup Prediction: Bruins in 7…in a shootout.

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Caught Looking: The J.D. Drew Fantasy Pitch Forum

Posted on May 11, 2011 | 1 comment

Hi everybody, I’m J.D. Drew of the Boston Red Sox. I don’t care how old you are, how advanced your skill level is or whether you’re a man or a woman. We all dream about a pitcher tossing us that perfect pitch when the bat is in our hands. Sure, maybe it’s a naïve pipedream in our modern world, but I don’t think we should let the fantasy die.

I love hearing stories about other conquests at the plate. It’s heartening to hear from all my fans out there who, like me, appreciate plate discipline, even if it means watching flat sliders and grooved fastballs pass over home plate while standing in the batter’s box.

After all, our ability as human beings to exercise restraint is what separates us from the animals…or at least the Baltimore Orioles. They swing at everything.

J.D.,
I thought you might like to know that I filled in for a friend in an adult coed softball league a few weeks ago. I got five plate appearances in three innings (the game was called on account of darkness), drew five walks and scored five runs. I made sure the bat never left my side by using it as a makeshift cane to prop myself up like the Planters Peanut guy.

-Mary from Peabody

Wow, Mary, that’s pretty impressive. That story reminds me of something: in 2010, I actually took over 200 pitches in a row over the span of several weeks without swinging the bat once. Luckily, it was sometime in late April when Boston fans were pretty wrapped up with the Celtics and the Bruins. Otherwise, I’m sure there would have been a good deal of heckling and jeering. Of course, Jason Varitek hasn’t been able to look me in the face since.

J.D.,
My four-year-old just started playing tee-ball last month and I told him I’d buy him a Dairy Queen Blizzard if he didn’t swing the bat at all when it was his turn at the plate. After the first two or three minutes of gentle prodding and encouragement, all the parents got annoyed and started screaming and yelling at him to swing the bat, but he just kept his eye trained on me the whole time as I nodded my approval from the first-base line. Eventually the coach had to drag my son out of the batter’s box and sit him on the bench for the rest of the game. I let the air out of the guy’s tires on the way through the parking lot on our way home and my wife doesn’t give his wife the time of day when they run into each other at Hannaford.

-Tom from West Bridgewater

Tom, you did the right thing. I wish more parents had your courage. Just because a baseball is sitting fat on a tee at home plate doesn’t necessarily mean the batter should just take some haphazard swing—particularly if there is something like eight kids manning the infield like most tee-ball games I’ve seen. Rate stats like on-base percentage and slugging percentage have a way of regulating themselves to the player’s skill level over the course of a full season. Even in tee-ball. Especially in tee-ball.

J.D.,
My friends and I recently went to some batting cages off Route 1 for a bachelor party celebration and I saw this unbelievably fat pitch that immediately made me think of you. This thing came out of the machine so flat yet not too fast and not too slow. It was a perfect meatball. I lifted the bat slightly off my shoulder but I checked myself and let it pass unharmed.

-Brian from Malden

That’s the difference between you and me, Brian. You lifted your bat off your shoulder momentarily and thought about swinging. I would never show even the smallest level of interest in some medium-speed pitch coming out of a poorly calibrated machine at some amusement park. Awkward check swings are exponentially worse in batting cages. I wouldn’t touch one of those pitches if I was up there with Jarrod Saltalamacchia’s bat.

J.D.,
I played backyard wiffleball during a neighbor’s barbecue last weekend. The pitch movement on those things is crazy. Either the pitcher’s arm slot is some sort of strange sidearm motion that makes the ball dive unpredictably or the wind disturbs the path of the pitch, effectively ruining any chance of a fastball dividing the plate into two neat halves. I wasn’t about to take my chances looking foolish swinging one of those cheap, yellow plastic fungo-bat shaped contraptions they pass off as lumber in a game of wiffleball, so I told everybody I was too dizzy to play from all the beers that I had drank throughout the morning and early afternoon.

-Judy from Plympton

Actually, Judy, I really enjoy wiffleball because the bat is so light you can easily stand up there with the thing on your shoulder for hours on end without even breaking a sweat. Of course, the pitches you see probably wouldn’t be anything worth swinging at, anyway, but at least symbolically wiffleball can help promote good plate discipline.

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Catcher Saltalamacchia’s life is an ugly mess

Posted on May 4, 2011 | Leave a comment

Back in February, Jarrod Saltalamacchia was receiving a lot more than just pitches on some backfield of the Fort Myers spring training facility. He was also receiving* praise from club officials and coaches, who anointed him as their No. 1 guy. Salty was, literally, sipping champagne and enjoying the thought of the prospective limelight.

*’Receiving,’ in this particular instance, is synonymous with ‘catching.’ Jarrod Saltalamacchia is a catcher for the Boston Red Sox.

“The guy looked like a power forward in the NBA,” remembers one scout. “You know, some height but also some bulk. No one really knows how hard he really worked, but we all kind of think he must have worked pretty hard. I mean, we assume he did…based on what his friends and family told us.”

But, then April rolled around, and that same limelight that came along with all that once-welcomed attention began burning Jarrod’s retinas. They destroyed him like a poorly positioned light tower shining in his eyes while he attempted to throw out base-runners swiping second.

“I can see something’s changed in his eyes,” one player confides. “He is obviously pressing way too hard.”

Stuff About His Personal Life

While no one expected the process of becoming an everyday catcher to be without complication, the 26-year-old Saltalamacchia is off to a bad start of epic proportion—even by Boston Red Sox standards.

Suddenly, people are avoiding Jarrod like he is an adulterer living in Puritan New England. His teammates have distanced themselves from him, manager Terry Francona is no longer writing him into the lineup as frequently and, perhaps worst of all, women refuse to talk to him in social situations—even when he uses fellow teammates as wingmen.

To put it plainly and simply, Saltalamacchia commands zero respect.

The results have not been pretty. A backup catcher at the beginning of the season, Jason Varitek could soon surpass Salty in plate appearances as their roles have seemingly been reversed.

To his credit, V-Tek has fulfilled his part as team captain admirably by supporting Salty in the media, working with him on improving his confidence and providing him with helpful hints on how to score ready and willing women.

“Unfortunately, Jarrod already fumbled away his chance at Heidi Watney well before Jason could offer him any, um, ‘insider’ advice,” laments one club source.

The source would not reveal exactly what transpired other than saying, “Look, I don’t want to turn this into some puff piece about an athlete’s personal life…But let’s just say Saltalamacchia might have been a little too blunt about his expectations of how far exactly being anointed Boston’s starting catcher would get him with Heidi.”

And, so, Jarrod Saltalamacchia continues his embarrassing tailspin.

Some Anecdotal Evidence

“I can’t say it’s very inspiring for any of us to see him like this,” says one teammate who wished to remain anonymous. “In fact, it can be pretty depressing. Our pitchers argue over who gets Varitek as their ‘personal catcher’ because, frankly, nobody wants to be tossing pitches to the other dude.”

Another clubhouse insider relates similarly emotional scenes.

“Jarrod was in one of the batting cages underneath the stadium a couple weeks ago trying to work on hitting breaking balls. Just swinging and missing at everything. All of a sudden, one of V-tek’s daughters shows up and just takes the bat out of his hands, literally. He relinquishes it and Varitek’s kid chokes up on the bat a bit and starts knocking liners right back at the machine like it was nothing. Incredible.”

And incredibly embarrassing for Saltalamacchia, who was later seen trying to conceal a good deal of weeping while at his locker.

Trite Statements about the Future

Nobody wants to hazard a guess as to where Salty goes from here. While some may be quick to point out that Varitek’s production (.128 AVG / .227 OBP / .154 SLG) at the plate is even more anemic than Salty’s (.207/.258/.276), club officials believe the captain is simply trying to minimize the pressure on the “starter” by declining to overshadow him.

Says a scout: “In the past, Jason probably would have at least started, you know, slugging higher than his playing weight by now. But, he’s at a place in his career where putting up numbers at the plate isn’t a priority. Sure, some extra base hits would be nice. But he’s got a bunch of other stuff going for him right now. Too bad we can’t say the same for Jarrod. He’s just bumming everybody out.”

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Fenway grounds crew works overtime after spunky Pedroia leaves a mess all over the field

Posted on May 3, 2011 | Leave a comment

They were everywhere. At first, the Fenway Park grounds crew didn’t know what to do with all of them. Donate them to charity? Take photographs of the ones that had their seams split open from being squared up so perfectly? Try to salvage the ones that weren’t warped from being laced down the left-field line? Hire Curt Schilling as a consultant to ensure a proper burial?

Dustin! Pedroia’s 13-pitch virtuoso performance in the fifth inning Monday night against Anaheim’s Jered Weaver that resulted in a two-RBI single was only the beginning, according to witnesses.

After Boston’s 9-5 victory over the Angels, the Red Sox second baseman convinced NESN analyst Dennis Eckersley to throw him “some cool-down” batting practice on the diamond.

What resulted over the next several hours was an absolute explosion of baseballs all over the outfield (BAM!), the infield (POW!), in the grandstands (SPARK!), ricocheting off the dugout protective fences (HEART!) and chopped down the third-baseline (SOUL!).

The frenzied riot of projectiles blanketing the field in the wee hours of the morning provided yet more confirmation of Dustin!’s epic resolve…and also six hours of overtime work for three grounds crew members asked to clean up the mess.

Media members at Fenway were too busy thinking up new adjectives to describe Dustin!’s latest performance and thus missed the—ok, fine—laser show. However, various club officials witnessed the show with awe.

“That was amazing,” said one front-office executive. “Pedey is really unique—and I’m not saying that because he’s not as tall as some other guys on the team. But, I’ve gotta admit, it just comes off as annoying when guys like Carl Crawford ask us if he can do the same thing.”

Eckersley, meanwhile, will be evaluated later this afternoon to determine the extent of damage to his shoulder inflicted by the three-hour BP session.

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Red Sox hire around-the-clock protection for Jed Lowrie

Posted on April 17, 2011 | 1 comment

The Boston Red Sox first realized they could have a problem on their hands during spring training, when Jed Lowrie had to be disciplined for being late for a team bus after temporarily losing his custom-fit, double-earflap batting helmet.

His torrid start may help the Red Sox climb out of the cellar, but could Jed Lowrie wind up being locked in there instead by some deranged fan? (Photo courtesy of NBC Sports)

“Turned out,” says a front-office source speaking on condition of anonymity, “Jed was letting people wear his helmet as they posed for photos and some overzealous fan made off with it. We got it back, eventually, but the damage was done…”

Indeed, that day set a tone that has resonated like a six-game losing streak.

Twitter hashtagging weirdos and traditional plant-crouching stalkers alike have taken to Lowrie Mania over the first two weeks of the season, prompting the team to hire a team of private security guards to monitor his well-being around the clock.

Team officials believe his torrid start to the 2011 season has effectively fanned what were once mere embers of admiration from a small subset of fans to the present forest fire of obsession that is tearing its way through Red Sox Nation.

While numerous Red Sox have stumbled out of the gate, Lowrie’s batting average is nearly 250 percentage points higher than his career rate. Meanwhile, his slugging percentage is similarly through the roof, particularly for a utility infielder.

Add it all up and the recipe is set for disaster.

The team had initially dealt with the crisis by forbidding Terry Francona from starting Lowrie more than twice per week. But with the team reeling out of the gate, it needs Jed Lowrie more than ever.

“It’s such a large fanbase so the odds are against collective sanity,” said the front-office source. “I know this sounds terrible, but we always root against a guy getting off to a start like this because it really can be pretty dangerous.”

Meanwhile, even the small-time, proverbial “fanboy” blogs seem to be inexplicably entranced by Lowrie’s gravitational pull, employing even the minutest development in the man’s life as occasion to write about their hero.

“You know, there’s such a thing as being too polite,” says one club source. “Jed needs to learn how to say no to people…or to at least stop giving out his home address and phone number just because some drunk guy in the third row asks him for it. He thinks everyone wants to be his friend, but some of them just want to say they were the one who locked Jed Lowrie in their wine cellar for a week during his breakout 2011 season.”

As the Red Sox prepare for their second road trip of the season, security officials plan on providing Jed with what they describe as “early 90s New Kids on the Block-level protection.”

Defined, the “New Kids” protection plan includes a special helmet similar to the one Lowrie uses at the plate, only reinforced with barbed wire to protect his scalp from being ripped by fawning hands. (Unlike Adrian Beltre, Lowrie shows no aversion to being patted on the head.)

“Jed Lowrie’s safety is currently our number one priority,” said one security spokesperson. “We are on triple scarlet alert…We’ve stopped wasting our time checking fanny packs on 50-year-old women. We’re just giving them security clearance bracelets and moving on.”

The road trip begins Tuesday in Oakland before moving to Anaheim over the weekend and closing in Baltimore early next week. Red Sox officials are working tirelessly to notify the thousands of fans who had been promised time with Lowrie that their plans cannot be accommodated.

Local artists who are painting portraits of Jed Lowrie, sculpting models of Jed Lowrie, constructing life-size papier-mâché statues of Jed Lowrie or creating so-called “sound wave art” by shouting Jed Lowrie’s name out their windows repeatedly are being asked kindly to cease and desist.

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Clay Buchholz’s Love Doctor Mailbag: Opening Day Edition

Posted on April 8, 2011 | Leave a comment

During spring training, a seemingly bored Clay multitasks, catching the baseball while also checking the stands for broads in halter tops. (Photo from CBS)

One-time prolific ladies’ man Clay Buchholz may have given up a jaw-dropping four home runs in his first start of the season, but the 26-year-old remains a frontline starter and key member of the Boston Red Sox. A few days before his second start of the season, the happily married father of a six-month old daughter was nice enough to take some time to impart some of his sage wisdom to a few readers while holed up in his hotel room during the final night of Boston’s first road trip of the 2011 season.

Clay,
The City of Boston’s licensing board recently green-lighted the widespread sale of mixed drinks at Fenway Park. Any thoughts?

Rebecca from Jamaica Plain

Becky, I’m all for it. But I’m happy they’re not going to let the ruffians in the bleachers anywhere near the sauce, because having a bunch of drunk broads flashing their breasts at me as I’m warming up in the bullpen can get kind of distracting. I would ask that ladies refrain from that kind of behavior until after the game, when I’m driving out of the parking lot on Van Ness St.

Clay,
This is difficult for me to discuss, but here goes: My daughter wants you to autograph one of her butt cheeks as her Sweet 16 birthday present. At first I told her ‘absolutely not,’ but the more I think about it, the better the idea sounds. It beats trying to impress the neighbors by buying her a new car and it’s definitely better than paying for her to get her belly button pierced or a trip to Cancun. Can you give me a ballpark estimate on how much dough your autograph on my daughter’s buttocks might set me back?

Roger from Natick

Roger, you sound like a good guy and it’s perfectly natural for you to be a little hesitant, but I’m glad you came around. I’m offering a number of different pricing tiers for the 2011 campaign:

The 2-Seamer Package ($29.95): A 30-second conversation (I don’t have to act interested) followed by a lightly pressed Body Autograph written with a medium ballpoint pen.

The 4-Seamer Package ($49.95): A two-minute Q&A session (I come up with the questions) and a Body Autograph written with a thin Sharpie.

The Slider ($69.95): A hands-on demonstration of various pitching grips, a two-minute conversation (I feign mild amusement) and a Body Autograph written in permanent marker.

The Curveball ($99.95): All of the above, only the Body Autograph is written in scented permanent marker. Oh yeah…and Jim Rice gets to watch while you give me a backrub.

And Roger, the prices are doubled if you insist on hovering over us to supervise.

Clay,
Do you have any fears that there are women out there who have incriminating text messages from you filed away that they might sell off for some quick money in a pinch?

Terry from Worcester

No, I don’t, Terry. I’ve always found that tactic a bit too blunt for my tastes. I’ll admit that back in my single days a few years ago I satisfied the occasional urge to send something a little risqué to some random dame. But I guess I was a lot smarter about it than Tiger Woods or Brett Favre—I’d wait until guys like Craig Hansen or Takashi Saito got into games in the later innings and use their phones in the clubhouse. I tried using Youkilis’ phone a few times, but the chicks always seemed to know it wasn’t Kevin.

Clay,
A friend of mine told me you used to date some ladies who worked in various capacities within the magazine industry and I’m wondering if you might help me make some connections in the field. I’m a married, stay-at-home mother of three children (ages 4, 7 and 9) and I sit around bored all day while my kids are at school. I figure a freelance gig might help me stay occupied during the day.

Marie from Reading

I’d be happy to help out, Marie. Just send me your resume and portfolio. Be sure to include standard information like your favorite song, secret talents, political views and the date of your most recent breast augmentation.

Click here to read the Thanksgiving edition of the Love Doctor Mailbag

Click here to read the Red Hot Summer edition of the Love Doctor Mailbag

Click here to read the Valentine’s Day edition of the Love Doctor Mailbag

Click here to read the October 2009 edition of the Love Doctor Mailbag

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Governor Patrick infuriated nobody told him about the Adrian Gonzalez trade

Posted on March 24, 2011 | Leave a comment

The blockbuster deal that sent Adrian Gonzalez from San Diego to Boston in exchange for three Red Sox prospects had the region buzzing at a feverish pitch back in early December.

Unfortunately, somebody—or everybody—forgot to alert The Governor.

As the nominative head honcho of a state that hemorrhaged jobs over the past two years, Massachusetts Governor Deval Patrick says he would have done everything in his power to block the “3-for-1” deal between the Red Sox and Padres.

“This deal, which I cannot believe I am just hearing about now nearly four months later, is a symbolic disaster for our state’s psyche,” Patrick told Fenway Pastoral earlier this week from a jet flying over the Atlantic Ocean. “If we continue to lose three jobs for every one we gain, the entire state of Massachusetts will be on welfare by…Well, I’m not sure how soon, but probably pretty darn soon.”

Patrick apparently first learned of the blockbuster deal late last week, just days after Gonzalez played in his first spring training game due to an extended recovery process stemming from offseason shoulder surgery.

Now, he’s demanding some answers from Red Sox owner John Henry.

“I’d like Mr. Henry to explain to the good people of Massachusetts how he can justify shipping three fine, hard-working blue collar workers (Casey Kelly, Anthony Rizzo and Reymond Fuentes) out to San Diego for but one, already handsomely paid employee from California.”

Patrick scoffed when told all three prospects played out-of-state in 2010 as part of the Red Sox organization’s minor league affiliates in Greenville, S.C. (in Rizzo’s case) and Portland, Maine.

“I’ve glanced over the projections. The fact is all three of those guys would have likely been tax-paying workers residing in Massachusetts within the next three years,” says Patrick. “Theo Epstein should be fired for orchestrating such a crooked deal and the ownership group should be levied a heavy fine for this heist.”

The Governor was not finished.

“Curt Schilling should be punished as well. I’m positive he had something to do with this,” he fumed. “He should be ashamed of himself.”

Told of Gonzalez’s beautiful, inside-out batting stroke from the left side of the plate that should nicely complement right-handed Kevin Youkilis, Patrick only sounded more infuriated.

“Well that’s great, but who the heck are they going to get to play left field now that Jason Bay is gone?”

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