Category Archives: Sports

Five years later, Boston Globe proudly remembers insufferability

Posted on October 27, 2009 | Leave a comment

Hemorrhaging readers by the day, The Boston Globe employed a curious new strategy toward regaining popularity today by reminding its dwindling audience of the mainstream media’s relentlessly negative, monotone coverage of the Boston Red Sox.

Five years after the Red Sox won their first World Series in 86 years, the Globe looked back at the tone of local media coverage (themselves included) with the same sort of fondness a jailed pedophile may have when remembering his glory days as a Cub Scout den leader:

The Sox, their fans, and the city’s sports media were a different people then. Fenway Park was a monument to postseason misery, a place where dreams soared in summer and died in October. Globe lightning rod Dan Shaughnessy popularized the theory that the team’s 86-year legacy of futility was tied to a curse, and a tenacious Boston broadcast correspondent went out of his way to perpetuate the myth among a generation of Sox players.

Rather than sourcing former players or members of the organization, the story focuses on three of the more despicable members from the gaggle of annoying local media personalities: Dan Shaughnessy, Jon Miller and Bob Lobel.

Readers in the Boston area seemed puzzled when goaded into reading past the first paragraph of the article, which center-pieced the paper’s Sports section despite the fact that the Celtics begin the regular season tonight on national television.

“This story is kind of like the IRS mailing a summary to every American citizen detailing how much money they paid the government in taxes over the last five years,” said an irritated businessman on his lunch break in Post Office Square. “I’m sorry you made me read that.”

Mary Ursuline, 45 of Reading, said she did not need to be reminded that Dan Shaughnessy constantly inserted ‘curse’ references into his columns. “He’s the guy who writes a bunch of Twitter updates and pastes them together into a column, right?”

Business analyst Doug Tillings was fascinated by the originality employed by the Globe. “In terms of pure business practices, this is really unheard of in most circles. Antagonizing your customer base and opening old wounds isn’t considered a mindful approach to retaining business in just about any marketplace. Talk about cursing yourself…”

Regina Werth, 56, of Danvers, summed up the overall dismay voiced by many Red Sox fans over the course of the day. “It’s too bad they still think people are interested in these negative storylines. I vaguely recall a group of 30 or so guys who did their job on the field well enough over the course of seven months that they’ll always be fondly remembered around here. That 2004 team wasn’t too bad either…”

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Clay Buchholz’s Love Doctor Mailbag

Posted on October 21, 2009 | 2 comments

Boston‘s young pitching phenom Clay Buchholz will officially be off the dating market next month after he marries Deal or No Deal model Lindsay Clubine. The Red Sox star’s proclivity for dating smoking hot models has at times evoked feelings of disbelief, bewilderment and envy. Now that he’s off the prowl, Clay was nice enough to take some time out of his offseason to answer some Fenway Pastoral reader’s questions about the dating scene.

Clay,
I recently visited a strip club in Toronto and purchased an hour in the champagne room. The stripper who wound up taking care of me seemed like a nice lady and I asked her for her phone number after my hour was up, figuring it would be nice to take her out for a nice dinner somewhere in the outside world. Unfortunately, she declined and now I have a weird rash to go along with the embarrassment of rejection. What did I do wrong?

–Daniel from Everett

Rookie mistake, Dan! You can’t just show up at the strip club and expect the chick’s gonna be all about you after one freaking hour. Courting strippers takes patience and persistence. Your first time with a dancer in the champagne room should be about putting your vibe out there. Play it close to the vest and be nonchalant while she does her thing. If they sense you’re too enamored, it’s all over. Act uninterested and like you’ve been there before. Strippers hate this, but they’ll remember you the next time when you show up with enough cash to buy a bottle of Patron and her exclusive company for the rest of the night. As for the extra pine tar on your barrel, a scalding hot bath and a ton of Icy/Hot on the affected area is the best remedy for erasing a regrettable evening.

Clay,
I recently became intimate with a woman with a large tattoo of the Aerosmith logo on the small of her back that spans over the better part of her hips. I’ve heard of women with smaller, elegant tattoo designs on their ankles or shoulders, but I’m having trouble getting past the size of this thing. Is it out of line to ask her if she’d ever consider getting it removed?

–Brian from Athol

Brian, Brian, Brian…You’re kidding me, right? A broad without any tattoos on her lower back cannot be considered a true woman. This one sounds like a keeper. You should be out buying her tiny tank tops that ride up on her midsection so everyone can see her ink when she leans forward to grab her Budweiser tall-boy can from the bartender.

Clay,
What kind of music is best to play to help get a girl in the mood?

–Pete from Somerville

Thanks for writing, Pete. I’m actually engaged to be married to a Deal or No Deal model next month, but back when I was on the singles scene, it depended on the type of magazines my date had modeled for. If she was a little freaky and had some experience posing for hard core pictorials, I liked to start out with heavier cuts from bands like Pantera or Sevendust and eventually segue into some Marilyn Manson or Rob Zombie. The more vanilla, wholesome models (Victoria’s Secret, JC Penney) generally listen to tamer buttrock bands like Staind and Nickelback. These chicks aren’t usually much fun and I’ve always tried to stay away from these girls unless I’m lonely and just looking for the company of some easy road beef.

Clay,
Is it OK to slip some Ecstasy into a girl’s drink at the club even if she’s already turned it down?

–Bill from Middleboro

I like where your head’s at, Bill. The reverse of this scenario actually happened to Brandon Walsh on one of my favorite episodes of Beverly Hills, 90210. He and his girlfriend Emily Valentine wound up having the time of their lives, partying until sunrise at an awesome underground rave. I haven’t pulled the E-slip on a girl in a while, but sometimes I’ll crush up a couple Ambien pills and sprinkle them in Dustin Pedroia’s Jagerbombs. That guy takes it to the limit every time we go to the club and, frankly, it’s difficult to keep up sometimes.

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The Youker Files: My visit to Disneyland

Posted on October 7, 2009 | 1 comment

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

For starters, let me just say that I’m not much of a theme park guy. But we had a couple of days to kill in Anaheim before Thursday’s opening game of the ALDS against the Angels. The baseball playoffs are always nerve-wracking and as a player you’ll do anything to keep yourself on an even keel.

Under normal circumstances, I’d just blow off some steam and hit a few buckets of balls at a local driving range. But a couple weeks ago, someone lost grip of their driver and the club boomeranged out and flew into my post, striking me in the side and bruising my ribs. Ever since then, I’ve been reluctant to return to the links.

At any rate, October isn’t one of Disneyland’s peak seasons, but for whatever reason the park was packed the day I decided to visit. Little, punk kids were running around everywhere and I had to swat them away like gnats buzzing around my head during a humid summer night in the Fens.

The entryways to all the popular rides (Matterhorn Bobsleds, Big Thunder, Pirates of the Caribbean) were more crowded than South Station on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. It was horrible.

At one particularly vexing point as I first entered the gates, a herd of truant second graders damn near trampled me to the ground as I tried to make my way toward a concession stand to purchase a sno cone. The stream of bodies collided with me with such force that I was pinned back against a brick wall and the ham sandwich in the front pouch of my Camelhump backpack was irreparably destroyed, crushed.

Already hungry and distraught, I was able to summon the patience to line up for the Space Mountain roller coaster. I waited about an hour and ten minutes only to be disappointed by the ride’s relative lack of speed and imagination as compared to Disney World’s version.

Making matters worse, I was forced to sit next to a heavy-set woman who repeatedly hit me in the face with her chunky left elbow as she raised and lowered her arms in delight. As I exited the ride, I hit my forehead on the restraint bar that did not rise to the proper height to let me safely get out of my seat.

Determined to salvage the afternoon, I bought an ice cream sandwich to hold to my head to reduce any swelling and ate some fried dough and a jambalaya chicken sandwich. Feeling better, I decided to wait in a short line for the tea cups.

I learned the hard way why the line was so short for the tea cups. After exiting the heinous five-minute spinfest, I threw up the entire contents of my stomach all over a nice family of Canadian tourists. It was truly awful and I promised to mail Jason Bay autographed jerseys to all six members of the family.

After the puking incident, I decided it would probably be best to stay off roller coasters for the rest of the day. I found what appeared to be a lovely garden-themed retreat that was reasonably empty and free of long lines and screaming children.

I sat myself down on a bench and enjoyed a brief moment of relaxation before feeling a sharp, stinging pain at the back of my neck. A bumblebee had apparently flown out of a nearby flower bud and caught me at a moment of vulnerability. Irritated, I swatted at the bee, which was a mistake. The vengeful bee circled around and gave me a second sting on the inside of my elbow.

Suppressing groans of agony, I kicked at a nearby trash can in frustration at the immense feeling of pain. Still flailing around, I somehow managed to slam my funny bone into the wooden corner of the bench and a numb shot of pain reverberated up and then down my arm.

At this point, I was in an excruciating amount of distress and decided it would be best to leave Disneyland. I was able to make my way back to the team hotel with minimal additional damage. (I rolled my ankle getting out of the cab and my pant leg briefly got caught in the hotel’s automatic doors, but I took full BP the next morning and felt good as new.)

Frankly, I’m not sure if I’ll be going back to Disneyland any time soon. The rides are outdated, the food was subpar and the facility’s infrastructure does not seem to be able to accommodate the high volume of visitors. Needless to say, Disneyland certainly proved a righteous test of patience and self-restraint.

As for this playoff series against the Angels, everyone in the league knows I don’t hit sliders too well. But John Lackey and Jered Weaver are loathe to throw theirs for strikes consistently and I plan to inflict enough damage on offense over the next couple of games to assure we don’t have to come back to this godforsaken hellhole again until next season.

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A decade later, 1999 Pedro is taking his dominance worldwide

Posted on September 29, 2009 | Leave a comment

Anyone alive to witness the brilliance of 1999 Pedro knew the success of that season would have consequences that would reverberate for years to follow. True to form over the last decade, 1999 Pedro has become one of the world’s most powerful governing forces, surpassing once-impenetrable public and private institutions alike.

1999 Pedro’s relative statistical value has compounded itself exponentially in recent years to surpass the combined net worth of all 30 companies on the Dow Jones composite index.

“1999 Pedro really took advantage of the bear market bloodbath over the last two years,” said one market analyst declining to give a name or company for fear of obliteration. “All the value his FIP brought the Red Sox in 1999 was re-invested at bottom-market prices in distressed funds and struggling companies desperate to stay afloat. Now that those assets are rebounding, 1999 Pedro is a bonafide superpower.”

In an apt twist of fate, 1999 Pedro recently purchased a minority stake in John Henry’s investment business using an unreleased version of the iPhone while he was waiting for a table at the Cheesecake Factory. (He did not have time for dessert.)

Another industry analyst was impressed by 1999 Pedro’s conviction in overloading his portfolio with investments in foreign stocks and junk bonds rather than safer municipal bonds and stable commodities such as precious metals.

“Guys like 1996 Hentgen and 2003 Gagne pussyfooted around and got themselves bogged down in stagnant money markets and gold futures,” observed another marketplace analyst. “1999 Pedro went for the jugular when the economy was already barely able to gasp for air. He is just as shrewd as he ever was.”

1999 Pedro has also taken an increasing interest in utilizing his incredible resources to become involved in international politics. Earlier this year, 1999 Pedro provided $100 million in private aid to the African Union to fund security forces formed to thwart pirate hijackings in waterways adjacent to the Horn of Africa. Sources close to the pitcher say he also has funds tabbed to expedite the release of Aung San Suu Kyi, who has been under military junta house arrest in Myanmar since 1990. He is a routine contributor to charitable causes such as the United States Peace Corps, Doctors Without Borders and Amnesty International.

It is difficult to quantify how much 1999 Pedro would be worth if he were a free agent pitcher on the open market today. Ten years, after all, is a long time. The world is a different place. The dot-com bubble has long-since burst and El Nino proved itself as nothing more than Generation X’s version of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Meanwhile, economic globalization continues to present fresh new challenges to both well-established and burgeoning markets.

One professional agent claimed he would open negotiations by asking for a 25-year contract with annual salaries calculated as a variable percentage of the combined gross domestic products of all countries in North America with the national budget deficit of France as a signing bonus. A baseline for 1999 Pedro’s annual roster bonuses, says the agent, would be set at no lower than 5% of all net earnings from oil exported from Middle Eastern countries.

“I’m sure, even then, 1999 Pedro would take a few days to mull over his other options,” said the agent. “He’s that prolific. I mean, really incredible. If Bruce Wayne’s Bat Cave really exists, I’m convinced he’s sitting down there right now eating mangos with Morgan Freeman and 2005 David Ortiz.”

Another agent says, “I just hope 1999 Pedro and 2005 Bartolo are never in the same room together, because that poor guy would get annihilated.”

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Release of Heidi Watney peephole video stalled by post-production hurdles

Posted on September 23, 2009 | Leave a comment

BOSTON–In an attempt to combat newly hired on-air talent and possibly parlay her local fame into a more fulfilling national gig, NESN on-field reporter Heidi Watney hopes to soon release a professionally produced voyeur-style video clip of herself undressing in a hotel room. Filming concluded several weeks ago and the video could make quite a media splash if, as planned, it is released just before the Red Sox begin playoff action early next month.

However, after hundreds of hours of excruciating post-production work, the timeline for the release of the viral video on the Interweb is in jeopardy due to a dispute between Watney and the film’s contracted distributor, Mortimer VonHoffstreuzen, say several members of the film’s production staff.

The major point of contention is VonHoffstreuzen’s insistence that Web sites hosting the four-minute video clip be required to pay a $10,000 fee for the rights to stream the file.

Watney believes that viewers should be able to access the file for free–especially because it was deliberately filmed with a low-quality web-cam in order to give the impression that it was made surreptitiously.

“Heidi is right,” says an industry analyst. “It’s folly to expect people would be willing to pay to watch this video when better-quality videos can be found everyday in every corner of the Internet absolutely free of charge. Viewers will simply go elsewhere to watch women undress, which would make it hard for any Web site to justify buying rights to this relatively soft-core entertainment.”

VonHoffstreuzen’s counterpoint is that Watney’s celebrity status makes the video premium, elite content that should merit payment for full access.

“This isn’t just any blond woman taking her clothes off,” says the distributor. “This is someone who is on the television, on the radio and who even writes her own blog for NESN.com. She is a star and it is insulting to compare her work in my film to that of any filthy skank with a web-cam.”

With NESN’s recent hiring of Newton native Jade McCarthy, an anchor/reporter cut very much from the same cloth as other female talent appearing on the station (Watney, Kathryn Tappen), Watney is said to be increasingly worried about the possibility that her colleagues may divert attention from her work.

“NESN is accumulating voluptuous blond bombshells faster than Clay Buchholz tears through trashy playmate girlfriends,” says someone close to Watney’s camp. “Competition for viewer affection could get pretty ugly once this new girl starts in January.”

Indeed, McCarthy won two Emmys last year for her sports coverage for NBC’s Philadelphia affiliate. The achievements could overshadow Watney’s work unless the incumbent on-field reporter manages to make a splash of her own.

A member of the film crew told Fenway Pastoral, “From a creative standpoint, I’m still trying to figure out how Heidi distinguishes herself from the millions of other clips that are posted on the Internet every day. I’m sure there’s a following for her work that will help sell the product if the film distributor has his way…But there’s a huge risk that people will feel alienated if it isn’t free.”

Francis Flynn, once believed to be Watney’s most devoted fan, was noncommital when asked if he would pay to watch a peephole video starring the NESN reporter.

Reached via CB radio while harvesting his cranberry bog in Carver, Flynn reasoned, “I already have hundreds of pictures of nude models in various poses with Heidi’s face photoshopped over the originals. For me, it seems like I’d be paying for recycled, repackaged content. Maybe they should come up with a better business plan.”

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At least make an effort to hide your chubbies beneath those laptops, Boston sports media

Posted on September 2, 2009 | 1 comment

Curt Schilling possibly vying for the late Edward Kennedy’s empty seat in the Senate? Yeah, this story could have legs. A veritable Big-Show blowhard bonanza delivered right to your newsroom desks and radio booths. Somebody called him on the phone!!…He’s been contacted!! He’s not denying it!…He’s being coy now, but just wait a couple days…

Tell us what you think, Bob Ryan. Your head must be spinning with the possibilities, Gerry Callahan. (You may be able to top 500 words with this column…) Don’t straddle the fence on this one, Dan Shaughnessy. Start drinking a couple extra hours before airtime, John Dennis. Guzzle some Listerine and fix your tie, Bob Lobel – someone might call you.

The stronger your opinion, the better. We need to know what you think and we need to know now because in a couple days, this potential goldmine could go away. Big Schill didn’t slam the door on running for Ted Kennedy’s seat and, therefore, he’s keeping that door ajar like a leadoff walk in the ninth inning. Surely, January’s election would rival The Dave Roberts Steal in sheer excitement were Schilling to enter the mix.

Are these pseudo-politico-baseball puns working for you guys? We know you can do better. Just do it fast. In a couple days, there is a strong possibility Schilling will grow tired of seeing his name in the headlines for such a ludicrous idea and abandon it in favor of something a bit less…involved. Wait too long, and your thoughts on the story will seem more awkward and out of place than when Gary Tanguay pretends he likes sports.

Perhaps you can play a role in scaring No. 38 away from doing something regrettable.

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On Baseball: Francona off base in mocking Papelbon for lacking Rhodes Scholarship

Posted on August 26, 2009 | 1 comment

Red Sox manager Terry Francona crossed the lines of decency earlier this week by offhandedly and irresponsibly characterizing Jonathan Papelbon’s comments about the Billy Wagner acquisition as misunderstood by the media partly because he is “not a Rhodes Scholar to begin with.”

Let us disregard for a moment the damning fact that the 28-year-old Papelbon is no longer eligible to obtain the prestigious scholarship, which is awarded to students between the ages of 18 and 24. Leaving aside this key rule, the preparation and application process alone for becoming a Rhodes Scholar is tedious, time-consuming and uber-competitive. It is next to impossible to expect that a top-tier high school athlete, as Papelbon was at Bishop Kenny High School in Jacksonville, Fla., could have set aside the time required to apply for such an elite academic scholarship.

Worldwide, there have only been roughly 7,000 Rhodes Scholarships doled out over the 100-plus years since the award was established in 1904 after the death of Oxford visionary Cecil Rhodes. By contrast, there are only a few hundred baseball players on planet Earth with the skill set and mental makeup of Jonathan Papelbon.

Sure, out of the 4,000 or so Rhodes Scholars still alive today, there may be a handful who could rear back and throw a fastball in the mid-90s MPH range. But how many of them have the ability to mix in breaking pitches and come into Major League Baseball games to record outs in save situations?

The fact of the matter is that very few Rhodes Scholars would be able to both locate high-velocity fastballs–and throw plus-sliders with the requisite controlled movement–to present a serious challenge to professional hitters because they would have dedicated their formative years to intense intellectual development in pursuit of degree courses at Oxford University.

Moreover, Rhodes studies may not officially begin until after an undergraduate degree is completed. In Papelbon’s case, this means he would not have been eligible to begin his education at Oxford until spring 2003, when he officially matriculated from Mississippi State College (an institution that boasts just one Rhodes Scholarship winner, awarded in 1911). By that time, Pap would have had just about 17 months to complete a Rhodes application before turning 24 years old and losing eligibility. As it were, that year and a half was spent fine-tuning his fastball and developing a slider and change-up while playing for the Red Sox’ Class-A affiliates in Lowell and Sarasota.

Between mandatory team workouts, spring training, the regular season, offseason conditioning, in-season weight work, side sessions, long tossing and maintaining a healthy athlete’s diet, Papelbon would have been lucky to simply read the text of the Rhodes Scholar application, let alone actually fill the thing out and begin studies under the Oxford University degree program–the rigors and geographical limitations of which would have undoubtedly stunted his rapid development into a top pitcher in the Red Sox farm system.

Theoretically, even if Papelbon were to consider playing a sport while studying in Cambridge, England’s baseball equivalent (cricket) could never be seriously viewed as a viable alternative to playing the American past-time. Single at bats in cricket have been known to last several hours and would severely limit Papelbon’s availability to pitch in following matches due to his prior shoulder problems and innings restrictions that have since been imposed on the All-Star closer.

Red Sox players face enough unrealistic pressure from the media and fan base without Francona tightening the vice of scrutiny a few extra notches. OK, so Jonathan Papelbon ain’t no Rhodes Scholar. And he never will be unless Oxford University were to suddenly relax its stringent guidelines for admission. But surely he need not be belittled with these facts any more than Francona need be harassed for never becoming an astronaut.

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Sources: Varitek injured neck attempting Jerry Seinfeld’s fabled ‘move’

Posted on August 20, 2009 | 1 comment

Red Sox catcher Jason Varitek has been sidelined this week with a neck strain that was purportedly caused by an ill-fated attempt to master a bedroom ‘move’ first outlined in a 1995 episode of the popular sitcom Seinfeld.

According to clubhouse sources, Varitek (affectionately referred to by fans as “V-Tek”) failed a crucial prerequisite for performing Seinfeld’s ‘move’ sometime during the team’s road trip to Texas. In the episode, the exchange between the comedian and his best friend, George Costanza, described the maneuver as follows:

Jerry: All right. On your bed. You got a headboard? You’ll need a
headboard.
George: I got a headboard.
Jerry: Is it padded?
George: No.
Jerry: Good. How tall is she?
George: Five-foot four. Why?
Jerry: You can’t have more than a one-foot differential in your heights…Otherwise, you could really hurt your neck.

“Jason evidently didn’t take Jerry’s advice about the height differential…the woman apparently would have made Dustin Pedroia look like Manute Bol,” said the source. “Most of the guys think he also had a padded headboard, but there isn’t a lot of soft cushioning in it. The feeling is that it was similar to the padding at the base of the Green Monster or along the right-field wall.”

According to the source, the club is rationalizing the injury as a simple case of collateral damage resulting from his divorce last year. The Victor Martinez trade was completed, in part, to insure the team in the event of this type of injury to Varitek.

“V-Tek’s gotta play the field and prove his worth in certain arenas,” said a member of the catcher’s inner circle. “He can’t be a one-trick pony at his age. If he doesn’t prove his versatility, a younger guy is going to step in and take control. Nobody can really blame him for trying to add a new routine to his repertoire.”

Another clubhouse source concurred. “As a baseball player, V-Tek has always done those little, immeasurable things that don’t necessarily show up in the box score. Off the field, he’s the same way.”

Details on whether Varitek closed with a clockwise or counter-clockwise swirl were unavailable as of this writing.

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Sox owner John Henry feeling duped after learning of Paul McCartney’s past drug use

Posted on August 5, 2009 | Leave a comment

BOSTON–Red Sox owner John Henry is boycotting tonight’s Paul McCartney concert at Fenway Park after learning for the first time that the former Beatle used performance-enhancing drugs during the 1960s and 1970s.

The owner was spotted burning several vintage LPs, including limited editions of the Beatles’ renowned White Album, in a large trash barrel on the Budweiser roof deck. According to a club official, Henry has also forbidden all Beatles and Wings songs from being played during future Red Sox games.

Speaking on the condition of anonymity, the club employee who “broke” the news to Henry reported that the owner is “devastated over this. I feel really bad that I told him about it…I thought everyone knew…”

In various interviews over the last 30-plus years, McCartney has admitted to using marijuana, cocaine and LSD–all of which are widely believed to provide musicians with a certain level of creative inspiration otherwise inaccessible to sober artists.

While McCartney has presumably curbed his PED use over the last couple of decades, Henry similarly destroyed more recent albums such as 1997’s Flaming Pie and 2007’s Memory Almost Full out of fear that residual effects from his past drug use lingered during the creation of his more recent cuts.

In addition, James Taylor, a long-time Red Sox fan and legendary songwriter, has been banned from Fenway Park because McCartney played bass on Taylor’s 1968 hit single “Carolina on My Mind.” Henry was overheard saying he can “only assume James Taylor was using drugs at the time as well,” according to the club official.

Responding to a query, the front office’s crack public relations staff issued the following statement:

“John Henry and the Boston Red Sox have no comment on Paul McCartney’s apparent use of PEDs. We will only confirm that Mr. James Taylor has been asked to remove several acoustic guitars he had been storing in the owner’s suite.”

Meanwhile, ESPN’s Peter Gammons has been notified he is no longer welcome in the Fenway Park press box. A guitar player in his spare time, Gammons has been known to quote Beatles songs in his baseball columns and on his ESPN blog.

Club insiders told Fenway Pastoral that Henry planned to skip Thursday night’s concert as well in order to complete formal petitions to the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences and the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences requesting the immediate revocation of the many Grammys and Oscars awarded to McCartney throughout the years.

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Retire to the nerdery with your calculator, Curt Schilling

Posted on July 29, 2009 | Leave a comment

What’s the problem? It isn’t enough for you to embarrass us by contributing blog postings to the Web site for WEEI, a sports radio station whose callers routinely lend evidence to the notion that the general population is getting dumber? Are you not sated by your uncanny ability to offer up your opinion (often on said radio station as a ‘caller’) on hot-button topics having nothing to do with you? Are you bored with your trite, exclamation point-riddled Twitter updates that make teenage girls’ Facebook status updates sound like verses of T.S. Eliot by comparison?

Your name means something to fans in this town. You symbolize a refusal to go down quietly in the disgrace of seemingly certain defeat. Simply put, you were a warrior who pitched hurt and won under extreme pressure back in October of 2004. Your Curt’s Pitch for ALS charity work is applauded, admired and worthy of the utmost respect. Hell, you wrote the damn letters on your bloody cleats…we get it.

But there’s nothing heroic or admirable about a retired athlete spending his post-ballplaying days developing a video game centered around slaying fictional creatures in fantastical lands of make-believe. Sure, you won’t be doing much of the actual “creating.” But recent news stories have you playing an integral role in your start-up company 38 Studios‘ development of a fantasy video-gaming franchise, code-named Project Copernicus.

Code-named Copernicus? Is this being developed in your treehouse? Will Shonda be serving you and your colleagues Ecto Cooler juice boxes and Teddy Grahams while you sit on beanbag chairs?

Now, this is not an indictment on video games, video game makers or video game players. This is a criticism of your assumption that your investment in the next World of Warcraft-esque cult/franchise/religion/phenomenon is a perfectly suitable career move for a retired baseball player.

Why can’t you take up fishing like the late Ted Williams and Bobby Doerr? Become a dentist like Jim Longborg. Or go golfing with Fred Lynn? Or become a pitching advisor like Luis Tiant? Or race stock cars and wrestle alligators like Mike Greenwell?

We have tried mightily to keep you in the small fraternity of former Red Sox players with total immunity from any objection or ridicule. But this is the last straw. You’re officially out of the club. Johnny Pesky may have held the ball back in the day, but he spent the next 60 years working for the team, doing manly things like hitting fungoes to rookies learning the ins and outs of the Fenway Park outfield.

You’re just always going to be that member of the family that everybody tolerates but rolls their eyes at as you walk away. You want to become a beta-tester for a video game that will further decrease the already long odds that the more socially awkward members of society ever have sex (with a person). What next?

This is not the way we wanted to remember you. But, frankly, you’re not leaving Red Sox fans much choice. Your awesome 2004 season seems like a long time ago.

Next time you’re invited to Fenway for some old-timer’s reunion or legends appreciation night, have the decency not to stand too close to guys like Rice, Evans, Yaz, Pesky, Ortiz, Wakefield and Lynn. Those guys invoke various feelings of pride and dignity. Lately, all we can manage to do when we look or listen to you is snicker.

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