Category Archives: Red Sox

Local man begins following NESN’s Heidi Watney on Twitter

CARVER, Mass.—Francis Flynn never bothered opening the owner’s manual that came with his new iPhone. As the owner and primary caretaker of nearly 10 acres of cranberry bogs, Flynn says he doesn’t have the time to learn too many of the smart phone’s bells and whistles.

Just having access to the inner thoughts of his favorite NESN television personality, Heidi Watney, is plenty stimulation enough for Flynn, who let his beard grow scraggly thick during a particularly desolate, snowy winter that left his fields in a depressing, dire condition.

“I stumbled on Heidi’s Twitter account one day while I was trying to order a couple of replacement parts for my tractor—it took a pretty good beating during all the storms in January,” Flynn explains.

“I was on the phone with the supplier and all of a sudden I heard a strange ping noise and there was a message congratulating me on setting up an account. Turns out I had accidentally tapped some shortcut button while I was trying to talk and wipe fresh bog soil off my nose at the same time. I’m still waiting for that fuel hose for my engine…But obviously God planned for my tractor to stall out so that I’d find Heidi on Twitter.”

And so it began for Flynn (or @2y4hr?h0ijh$F, as he is known on Twitter).

Up to this point, NESN’s Number One Blond Bombshell—(“You better get off my goddamned bog if you think Kathryn Tappen is better,” Flynn says, unsolicited)—has primarily used her account to notify fans of daily lineups, to relay tidbits picked up in her interviews and to wish her many followers ‘Happy Birthday.’

But Flynn believes @HeidiWatney will evolve into so much more and he intends “to be there when she slips up and posts some kind of inappropriate photo of herself in front of her bathroom mirror or something.”

In the meantime, Flynn says knowing the Red Sox batting order in advance of the game broadcast—well before he’s even close to done for the day working in his bog—is a pretty nice perk.

“Heidi has the lineup posted a few hours before the first pitch,” Flynn says. “I’m out there in my tractor around quarter of four already asking myself if Francona’s doing the right thing hitting Jarrod Saltalamacchia fourth. I love it.”

Flynn, who has experienced his fair share of Heidi obsession and fatigue over the years, is downright giddy at the prospect of being connected to her 24 hours a day throughout the upcoming regular season.

However, he has taken note of some significant drawbacks.

“Certain news, I’d rather hear straight from Heidi’s face on a television screen,” he says.

Flynn was devastated when he heard news of Daniel Nava’s demotion to the minors while trying to call the Plymouth County Animal Control office to report a dead coyote that was rotting in one of the far reaches of his bog.

“It was really tough to have to hear about Danny that way…on a damn phone. I knew it was coming, but I really thought Heidi and I would share that moment together on TV…not on some social networking site. It felt so impersonal.”

Asked if he planned to follow Red Sox stars such as Jacoby Ellsbury and Saltalamacchia, who also recently joined Twitter, Flynn didn’t have to think long for his reply.

“Ballplayers never say anything interesting…unless they’re talking to Heidi.”

Peter Gammons tweets ‘P’: WHAT DOES IT MEAN??

During supper time on the east coast Tuesday night, NESN baseball insider Peter Gammons posted on his @PGammo Twitter feed, in his usual sage yet cryptic style, ‘P’.

That’s it. P.

Thinking on this whole thing rationally after a tortured, sleepless night, there are really only a handful of explanations for the message, which will now be presented forth in a classic “polyletter,” “multiword” (if you will) written technique that we employ not to rival, but only to attempt to explain the meaning of Gammons’ post-postmodern, uber-brevity.

P Theory #1: Gammons was beginning to speculate on a possible landing spot for (P)ujols, Albert, baseball’s best player who also happens to be on a collision course with free agency and a $300 million contract this fall. However, his inside source got cold feet as he began clicking away on his Blackberry.

Back in the old days with the Boston Globe–when people read the paper’s Sunday Baseball Notes column unironically– Gammons had a knack for tossing conjecture out into the open for public consumption. If Twitter existed back when Peter was on the phone 20 hours each day during baseball season, talking to executives and insiders nonstop, just sending out the first letter of a last name would have been a pretty major deal.

P Theory #2: Peter is employing the Little Orphan Annie Decoder Ring methodology: Each day, baseball fans need to visit @PGammo on Twitter in order to obtain the next letter in the long, elaborate message. Who knows, tomorrow’s letter might be an ‘E’ and the day after could be a ‘D’, then an ‘R’, then an ‘O’……and then Peter would probably get sick of stringing everyone along like a goddamn maniac and just finish on Sunday with “will sign with the Red Sox and be ready to take over the No. 5 spot in the pitching rotation by mid-June.” Note: For the WEEI listeners trying to read this blog, that first word fully spelled out is “Curt Schilling.”

P Theory #3: Peter flew back to Boston from Florida because he had front row seats for the Lady Gaga concert at the Garden Tuesday night and began describing something he saw as she strolled toward the edge of the stage: ‘P’… Then he thought better of it.

P Theory #4: The last theory is also the most far-fetched of all the P Thoeries set forth in this space. In some miraculous convergence of universal improbability, Peter did not lock his smart phone and, as it jostled around haphazardly in his suit jacket, the proper combination of buttons was somehow pressed, not only opening the Twitter application and signing into the @PGammo account, but also typing the capital letter ‘P’–which just so happens to be the first letter in either the first or last names of numerous prominent baseball stars who may or may not be rumored to be on the move this season, according to top baseball executives and industry insiders.

Now, you tell us who’s crazy…

Hefty Yankees hurlers to star in remake of ‘80s Fat Boys classic ‘The Disorderlies’

The original Disorderlies film garnered rave reviews when it was released nearly 25 years ago.

Advancing Hollywood’s undying mission to remake and ruin every classic movie made during the 1980s, three New York Yankees pitchers will reportedly star in a remake of the 1987 film The Disorderlies, starring the lovable, overweight rap-singing trio The Fat Boys.

According to one executive producer, who requested anonymity, CC Sabathia, Bartolo Colon and Joba Chamberlain are expected to be awarded the leading roles. However, some say casting directors believe they have some decisions to make regarding Phil Hughes and Freddy Garcia.

“These guys were all pretty hilarious during auditions,” said the source. “We put Derek Jeter in a wheelchair to mimic Ralph Bellamy’s role as the old man and they were just having an absolute ball rolling him around the field. That team is loaded with talent.”

The script is expected to closely honor the movie’s original premise in which an over-privileged, nepotistic heir to a billionaire’s fortune aims to speed up the process of an old man’s advancing death by hiring three overweight, incompetent orderlies with a penchant for rapping.

Like the original Fat Boys trio of Markie*, Buffy and Kool, the Yankees’ Sabathia, Colon and Chamberlain will engage haplessly in considerable fish-out-of-water hijinks and presumably a considerable amount of sweaty, Dominoes pizza-fueled hilarity.

*NOTE: Markie passed away in 1995, when Sabathia was just a svelte 230-pound sophomore in high school.

Yankees team owner Hank Steinbrenner has not officially approved the deal that would make the three Yankees immediate stars of the silver screen.

However, producers are not worried.

“This is still America, isn’t it? I don’t see how Hank Steinbrenner could legally justify blocking any of his players from capitalizing on their obvious stardom.”

Both Sabathia and Colon are reportedly working hard to perfect their “beat-boxing” technique: creating percussion sounds and rhythmic beats using only their mouths.

The catchy mouth-turned-drum machine chorus to the Fat Boys’ rendition of the Beatles hit “Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Baby You’re a Rich Man” could be clearly heard from outside a closed door near the Yankees’ clubhouse earlier this week.

Because most of the picture takes place in southern Florida, the movie could begin filming as soon as next month, with a summer release date and uncut DVD/Blu-ray editions in retail stores for the 2011 holiday season.

The Youker Files: Dinner with the guys at Applebee’s

Written exclusively for Fenway Pastoral by Red Sox first baseman/third baseman Kevin Youkilis.

FORT MYERS, Fla.–Spring training isn’t all base-running drills and ground balls. Players have to eat, too.

There are 50 Applebee’s locations within a 20-mile radius of our Fort Myers facility, so it was only a matter of time before us corner infielders (myself, Adrian Gonzalez, Lars Anderson, Jed Lowrie) made it out for some good eating.

I know a lot of reporters like to make a huge deal about team camaraderie and all that stuff, so yes, we did all cram into one taxicab even though it meant leaving Hector Luna behind and riding with my cheekbone pressed up against the back window for 10 minutes.

Still, everything was going pretty smoothly until the hostess showed us to our table. As I was hanging my sports jacket on the hook next to the booth like a civilized human being, Adrian brushed me aside and stole my usual seat facing out toward the bar.

You see, Applebee’s are laid out the same, with the bar area offset to either the left or the right of the dining room. There are usually several booths adjacent to the front end, where all the bar goers mingle—most importantly, prowling cougars, who tirelessly fend off the skeevy male clientele of failed real estate moguls, displaced sex offenders and retired-at-45 portfolio managers until professional baseball players arrive for spring training. I’m not sure what these people even do the other 10-plus months of the year…

I know they must have Applebee’s in San Diego too, so I wasn’t cool with Adrian just taking my usual spot like it was nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, dude, seriously? I bit my tongue and tried to move on because I didn’t want to spoil the vibe and make people decide to skip appetizers.

Already pretty steamed, I was downright pissed when Jed ordered himself an entrée at the same time I was trying to order onion rings and spicy chili nachos for the table.

When I called him out on the faux pas, he was unapologetic. He says, What’s the difference if I want to eat a main dish before picking at the appetizers? Either way, the food winds up in my stomach.

Well, this whole mindset really infuriates me. There is a reason why appetizers are listed first on a menu, followed by entrees and desserts. If the waitress brings out a brownie sundae before the main course, everything gets thrown off kilter and the whole meal is ruined.

Jed is a young guy and just trying to be edgy and different for the sake of being different. So, again, I bit my lip and let it slide.

But things just got worse from there. As we were waiting for the main course to arrive, Lars decided he wanted to send a couple mudslides over to two well-endowed ladies sitting at the corner of the bar.

Now, one of these two chicks had been eyeing me most of the night and I planned on going over to them after we had polished off dessert to see if they wanted to share a plate of sliders and talk some baseball. I was going to play the Ed Harris to her Melanie Griffith.

But I’ll be damned, Lars showed the patience and resolve of a 16-year-old on prom night and couldn’t wait until after the meal to send over a couple of super-alcoholic drinks. (Yeah, I know, real subtle.) He was in over his head right from the start.

What happened next was all too predictable. The drinks arrived while I was just absolutely crushing a Triple Chocolate Meltdown and Lars smiles over and gives them the stupid Your Welcome thumbs up. I’m just helpless, wrist deep in ice cream and chocolate sauce smeared on my face.

Well, I had had enough by this point. Between Adrian taking my seat in the booth, Jed trying to “teach” me about meal courses being “interchangeable” and Lars showing his age by being overeager, I was ready to head home. Alone.

I think it was probably for the best. I ran up a hell of a bill smashing various furnishings in my hotel room and punching the fitness room’s drink machine out of working order, but sometimes it’s good to vent. I’ll autograph the bat I broke over my knee this morning in the batting cage and give it to the hotel manager.

As for Applebee’s, I’m sure I’ll be back there again. Spring training is less than a week old and being in Florida for six weeks without eating at Applebee’s a few times is kind of like going to Chicago and shunning Pizzeria Uno.

NESN’s Orsillo shows up at camp in the worst shape of his career

NESN play-by-play man Don Orsillo politely refuses to step out of his car in the City of Palms Park parking lot until he’s finished all six of his Boston crème donuts—or, as he likes to call it, “breakfast.”

“Every last crumb. It’s a labor of love. Some days, I like to wash the donuts down with a couple of those Jolt colas,” Orsillo admits with a grin. “On those days, I’d say it’s more like a brunch. Hee hee…”

Once out of his car, Orsillo enlists one of the team’s on-field assistants to pick him up in a golf cart to carry him the remaining 50 yards between the parking lot and the entrance to the press box elevator—lest he risk burning precious calories by walking.

After disembarking from the beleaguered vehicle, several team employees coax Orsillo into flashing the newly acquired gut he worked so hard at achieving during the cold winter months.

Sheepishly, Orsillo obliges, lifting his golf polo up to his chest, revealing his massive abdomen.

Giggling, poking, slapping, tickling and general rough-housing ensue. Orsillo and his NESN teammates clearly enjoy a special camaraderie that defies tangibility or even any description coming close to having a semblance of coherent analysis.

Even at first glance, it is obvious to casual observers that Orsillo did not just stand pat this offseason. Red Sox coaches have already taken notice.

“He clearly rested on his laurels this offseason,” said general manager Theo Epstein. “You have to respect that. He knew he had a job locked up and he didn’t just go about it preparing the same way he always did during the past. He went out there and worked at carving out a new niche for himself this winter. In this game, you have to do that, otherwise you become replaceable.”

“I can’t even imagine he even looked at a treadmill this offseason,” said one hitting instructor. “I hope lethargy isn’t contagious…If it is, keep him away from my players.”

Orsillo, breathing heavily through his mouth, explains why he made changes to his conditioning routine this offseason.

“There’re always younger broadcasters coming up, giving your job the eye, gunning for your livelihood,” he says. “I want to make sure I stand out and I’m pretty sure no one is going to be able to ignore me like this.”

Sponsors have already taken notice. While Orsillo and partner Jerry Remy typically enjoy free Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and donuts during Red Sox home games, other local businesses hope to enter the fray in 2011.

“Papa Gino’s called me this morning,” Orsillo says. “They want me to eat a whole pepperoni pizza every night during the fifth inning. I immediately said ‘yes,’ obviously.”

Meanwhile, Orsillo will eat an entire crock pot of Legal Seafoods clam chowder twice per week during the 7th inning stretch.

Privately, NESN executives couldn’t be more excited or more optimistic about the upcoming 2011 campaign.

“Buckle up, if you can get the seatbelt around your torso,” said one NESN programming director. “This season is going to be one helluva ride.”

No Pedro no Pedro no Pedro no Pedro no Pedro no!!!

Photo from NY Daily News

Laughing our asses off at the Yankees’ Bartolo Colon signing was fun while it lasted (several side-splitting hours). But what if they get really slap-happy with former aces from the early 2000s and sign Pedro Martinez?

Why even bring it up this early? Because perhaps the more it is talked about now, the lesser the chance it actually happens later.

Martinez signing with those rat bastard Yankees at some point this season just seems to make too much sense as of this moment. Pedro hasn’t decided if he’ll pitch in 2011 yet. But he loves attention and New York loves fawning over its over-the-hill athletes. The Yankees will need another starter, perhaps not right away, but sometime in June, right when Martinez would likely join a team.

Meanwhile, Brian Cashman isn’t exactly the only one with his hands on the purse strings. (Yes, the Yankees carry their money in a very large purse. It’s not even European…)

It is highly unlikely that Pedro would sign with a team unwilling to both guarantee him a starting rotation slot and pay him the guaranteed money for a few months of his service. The Phillies paid him a base salary of $1 million in 2009 for 61 2/3 innings, including the 17 he pitched in the postseason.

After their embattled offseason, the Yankees may be the only team that can both extend him the “respect” of a seven-figure guarantee and a surefire spot in a contending team’s rotation. Last season, it was fun for Sox fans to imagine Pedro coming back to pitch effectively for some random NL contender. Seeing the legend get by on wile, guile and style alone for Philly in 2009 was oddly intriguing. Any Sox “fan” still begrudging him four years later for his departure in 2005 was, well, probably complaining how “boring” the team was last season anyway.

This season? John Henry and Theo Epstein might just have to bite the bullet and make sure if Pedro does indeed want to pitch again for a team in the Northeast, the Red Sox are the first and only team Martinez calls. Because Pedro in Pinstripes may be the only Fenway sight more perverse than the New Kids on the Block defiling the outfield later this summer.

Wally the Green Monster sends lewd text message to NESN’s Jade McCarthy

Boston clearly has a case of team mascot depravity on its hands.

In an unwelcome attempt to lure NESN Daily co-anchor Jade McCarthy into a behind-the-scoreboard rendezvous earlier this week, Red Sox fan favorite Wally the Green Monster has reportedly sent a nude photograph of his green-haired body, sporting nothing but his trademark Red Sox hat and a smile.

McCarthy wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking at Monday morning, when she first opened the text message on her iPhone. Team officials are unsure if Wally acted alone in the impromptu photo shoot while sitting inside Fenway Park’s famous left-field wall.

Insiders say it wasn’t the first time McCarthy had received a correspondence from the cell phone number she recognized to be that of Wally the Green Monster. But past messages were typically friendly, albeit indecipherable—letters, numbers or symbols jumbled together nonsensically. The fat-fingered Wally’s inability to properly type on his mobile phone was generally dismissed as a funny quirk amongst team employees.

But evidently, Wally’s frustrations were not limited to just the functionality of his mobile device. Things finally reached boiling point earlier this week.

The Wally sexting news comes just days after professional lacrosse’s Boston Blazers mascot, Scorch, was taken to task for receiving multiple lap dances during an ill-conceived halftime show at the TD Banknorth Garden this past weekend.

Harvard psychology professor Jennifer Houston was not surprised by the mascots-behaving-badly story angle that has peaked on the local radar during the past week.

“Most of the time, these mascots are deeply troubled individuals because so much of their lives is spent rooting for causes other than their own,” she said. “How can Wally respect himself as a member of society? He represents an inanimate object constantly being peppered by hard-hit line drives. It’s really no surprise he would so callously treat women with such insensitivity.”

Meanwhile, Houston sounded only vaguely hopeful the incident wouldn’t scar the talented McCarthy.

“I’m sure what Jade saw was nothing she couldn’t have found on the Internet using basic Boolean search logic,” she said. “Heck, maybe she’s into it. But I think more likely she will look like a deer in the headlights on camera for a little while after dealing with this whole perverse ordeal.”

One Red Sox official says the team is still trying to confirm that the flowing green fur that is so abundant in the photograph is indeed Wally’s.

“We have no further comment on the issue at this time. In the meantime, we’d like to remind fans that Wally the Green Monster and the 2004 and 2007 World Series trophies will be parading through Nashua, Portland and Woonsocket this weekend. Come join in on the fun!”

Lucky the Leprechaun, who left the Celtics organization in 2009, was unavailable for comment on this story. When visited at his home unannounced, a distraught Pat the Patriot could be seen snorting angel dust off the bare stomach of a Boston Bruins Ice Girl.

Papelbon Switches to Sanka

So much for January being a slow news month.

A source close to Fenway Pastoral confirmed today that Red Sox reliever and longtime Dunkin’ Donuts coffee pitchman Jonathan Papelbon has unofficially switched to the instant decaf alternative, Sanka.

Known to go entire relief appearances without blinking his eyes even once, Pap’s close friends cited health reasons for the change. Papelbon, who suffers from occasional migraine headaches, would like to cut his caffeine intake as part of his New Year’s resolution—the other parts presumably being an $11 million salary and some improvement in his ever-diminishing K/BB rate.

The news had executives at Boston ad agency Hill Holiday scrambling as it likely jeopardizes the firm’s much anticipated 2011 campaign, “Drink Dunkin’ Iced Coffee or else Jonathan Papelbon Will Sit On Your Face and Fart.”

Said one key employee working the account, “We’re not too worried yet, but ‘Drink Dunkin’ Iced Coffee or else Bobby Jenks Will Sit On Your Face and Fart’ doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.”

Red Sox executives sounded equally surprised and frustrated by Pap’s change of heart.

“One of the reasons we upgraded the bullpen bathroom facilities this offseason is because of all the coffee Jonathan was making his teammates drink out there,” said one front office source. “Caffeine is a natural diuretic.”

Closer-in-waiting Daniel Bard, meanwhile, spat out his Folgers upon hearing the news.

Fenway Pastoral will have more on this story as it develops.

Time to wrap a bow around this near perfect offseason, John Henry

That’s great work, John Henry. Bravo. Speedy and Gonzalez in Sox uniforms. This has been like Christmas in December.

Your boy Theo has truly come into his own. He resisted the urge to get in a bidding war with the Yankees for Mark Teixeira two years ago, thus opening the door for the Adrian Gonzalez deal and the Carl Crawford signing. The planned improvements to Fenway Park for 2011 look solid and even Jason Varitek’s one-year deal is difficult to argue against given the existing depth at the position.

Yup, all around, this offseason is about as close to perfect as rational fans could possibly expect of their baseball team. There are only a handful of opportunities for further improvement, John.

Grease Mayor Menino’s palms: Look, this is embarrassing. Boston is a world-class city of culture, renowned artists, top-notch hospitals, esteemed universities and restaurants owned by Nick Varano. There is no good reason why fans in the “budget” grandstand, loge and bleacher sections shouldn’t have the option of purchasing beer without leaving their seat. People like to drink beer. People like to act rowdy and fight. Both are going to happen regardless of how inconvenient the organization makes it for middle class people to purchase alcohol. Business owners with a fraction of your wealth manipulate the city ordinance system all the time obtaining licenses to get their loyal patrons drunk. We’ll even set up the breakfast on Beacon Hill and buy the unmarked security envelope for you if you’d like. How about a nice brunch somewhere near the park? You can bring home the sliced cantaloupe and surprise Linda. She’ll love it.

Stay away from Liverpool for a little while: It’s not that Sox fans are jealous. But you should give those Reds fans some time to cool off. They seem pretty pissed. Apparently, they already had their grape smugglers in a twist last week over the sum of money given to Crawford and Gonzalez. Just wait until they hear about Bobby Jenks…

Establish a “Mustaches Only” facial hair ordinance: Kevin Youkilis. Tim Wakefield. Adrian Gonzalez. Dustin Pedroia. Jed Lowrie. None of these guys wouldn’t look hilarious in a mustache. And if nothing else, it beats Josh Beckett and Jenks sporting matching flavor savers.

Re-sign Manny for right-hand outfield depth: You do want television ratings to be better in 2011 than 2010, no? Ramirez isn’t going anywhere for big money this year and he’s likely to be available at a relative discount sometime before spring training. Seriously, signing Manny actually makes enough sense that if can’t be dismissed outright. We’d be willing to bet Epstein has broached the subject with you already. The lineup is lefty-heavy and the outfield needs a right-handed bat. Darnell McDonald will understand; Gerry Callahan won’t. But really, nine out of 10 scouts are bearish on Danny Woodhead’s chances of improving his outside-zone swing rates and becoming the next Bo Jackson.

Fix the bullet holes and busted concrete on the lower concourse: Chuckie and Don Draper both have wicked bad aim.

Double burgers at the Fenway Grill will only set fans back $10.50 next season.

Clay Buchholz’s Love Doctor Mailbag: Turkey Day Edition

The 2010 season will go down as the Year of Buchholz. Our boy Clay was able to hold his libido in check and finally harness his abilities and fulfill his immense potential as a front-line pitcher. Relatively new to married life, Clay is busy raising his three-month-old baby girl with his model wife, Lindsay Clubbine. Meanwhile, he is poised to become a perennial Cy Young contender and one of the aces of the Red Sox pitching staff for years to come.


A thankful Clay Buchholz hams it up for a photo while ensconced in a cornucopia of broads.

The 26-year-old righthander recently took a few minutes out of his offseason conditioning regimen to answer loyal Fenway Pastoral readers’ questions regarding everything from romance to child rearing to Turducken.

Clay,
All those dirty diapers and drool and baby formula must really slow down your roll with the ladies, huh?

-Andrew from North Reading

Are you kidding me, dude? I could show up in full uniform at Boston Beer Works and I still wouldn’t be accosted by as many broads as when I walk down the street nowadays. It takes me about two hours to stroll even half a block through the park near my house. The cheek pinching, the tender caresses, the goo-goo-gaa-gaa talk—these dames just DO NOT seem to ever get enough of it. And it’s twice as bad if I have my daughter with me.

Clay,
I’m 35 years old and married to who I thought was a great guy. But one of my single friends recently called my attention to a profile on Ashley Madison (the website that helps married men cheat on their wives anonymously) that looks an awful lot like it’s my husband. There is no way it is a coincidence. I’m not thinking divorce just yet, but what can I do to burn him back?

– Wendy from Chelsea

The subtle, mature thing to do is grab his credit card, hop online and buy yourself a J.D. Drew No. 7 jersey. Make sure to get the hand-stitched replica with the 2007 World Series champs patch on it. It costs like $500 bucks and it will absolutely infuriate him every time you wear it.

Clay,
Is this Turducken craze for real? The whole concept seems kind of ridiculous.

– Mary from Winchester

I’m with you on this one, Mary. Wake me up when someone figures out how to incorporate some real game bird: road beef.

Clay,
Does it make me less of a man if I don’t like eating the dark meat on a turkey?

-Keith from Billerica

Yes, Keith. Yes it does. You’re one of those people who busts out his golf umbrella the second after a couple of raindrops fall on you in the Fenway Park box seats, aren’t you?

Clay,
Some people argue that basting a turkey isn’t completely necessary. Where do you stand in this debate?

-Troy from Weymouth

Are you serious, Troy? I’m not showing up at your house on Thanksgiving. Nobody wants to mess around with some tasteless, dried up bird. Basting is essential if you want to ensure that the turkey remains moist throughout the roasting process. After initially basting the raw bird during pre-oven prep, you have to continue applying flavor every 15 to 20 minutes so that it doesn’t dry out.

Clay,
In your opinion, how long should foreplay last?

-Terry from Danvers

It should take the exact same amount of time to fully explain the infield fly rule to Jade McCarthy. No more, no less.

If you’re married, you can easily fit it all in between two of Daisuke’s pitches.

Clay,
My girlfriend swears you pitch better when Jason Varitek is behind the plate than when Victor catches you. She says you look “more confident out there.” What should I do?

-Ben from Peabody

Break up with her and date a stripper.

Clay,
Better Boston gentleman’s club: Centerfolds or The Glass Slipper?

-Joey from Plympton

That’s kid’s stuff, Joey. You might as well ask me who I like better: Derek Jeter or A-Rod. They’re both overpriced, overrated and tear through a bunch of women who look good from far but are far from good. Check out Vegas or Reno sometime…

Clay,
When “making it rain” on stage at the gentleman’s club, what is the minimum acceptable denomination for currency?

-Albert from Topsfield

Al, you can’t make it rain with anything less than 100 individual bills, so you should make sure you can afford to withdraw that quantity from your bank account. One dollar bills are OK, but I would definitely mix in at least a few fives and tens in there if you ever plan on going back to that same establishment. Also, DO NOT pick up the cash once it’s hit the ground to try to prolong the confetti effect.

That’s all for now, everyone. Happy Thanksgiving.

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 last October’s edition of the Love Doctor Mailbag