After the boys of summer have gone

So, apparently, I miss baseball. This shouldn't surprise anyone, even though my Sox love will never be as strong and ever-present as in 2003-2004. Bygones. The point is this: Last night, I dreamed that the Sox needed me. They needed me to play. Apparently, in my fantastical dreamland, I am a catcher, but when they told me I was getting in the game, I panicked. Because I had forgotten all the signs. So I had to talk frantically with the pitcher, trying to decide if one finger down means the fastball or two fingers. And then I woke up, because that was some stressful shit.

Yoooooooooouk

I feel like I hardly know the Red Sox anymore. One more member of the 2004 championship team is gone, this time via trade to the White Sox. It's no question that Youk is getting older, but I always loved his scrappy and emotional style of play, determination, and of course, his beard variations. I know it's time to get to know the new players (this Middelbrooks kid looks pretty good), but some part of me knows that it will never be the same. I'll miss you, Kevin Youkilis. May you continue to leg out triples, draw walks and the ire of opposing pitchers, and do well against every team in the league (except the Red Sox).

At a loss

It feels like I don't really have anything to say anymore (though that never stopped me before). Maybe I'm just in a funk because I've been sick so long. Or perhaps because the Red Sox didn't get the "spring training is over" memo. Whatever it is, I have the April blahs. I read the latest Kate Atkinson with a quickness, and I liked it, but it's pretty much more of the same, so nothing newsworthy there. I don't know what to read next. J.R. and I have actually managed to almost completely empty the DVR (just a few more episodes of The Good Wife to go, plus my extremely old Lost episodes). I don't feel like watching any of the movies I've got queued up at Netflix. I'm at a loss here, people.

They don't call it madness for nothing

Ah, the thick of March Madness, when my blood runs orange and ESPN rules my television. I have discovered that my magical Xbox is even more magical than previously thought (achievements! President Bartlett as a character on my favorite game! Streaming Netflix movies!): It now brings me women's basketball games in their entirety. For any of you not familiar with the coverage of the Big Dance, during the NCAA tournament, many games happen at once. ESPN handles this craziness by utilizing something it calls "whiparound coverage," which means they're going to show you little bits of a bunch of games you don't care about -- unless you reside in the home state of your favorite team, and thusly you are "protected." As we all know, I do not live in Tennessee. Nor do I want to, except for the remote possibility of running into Pat Summit at the grocery store. Bygones. The point is this: There is no way ESPN is showing the Lady Vols kill Stetson if you don't live in Tennessee. Unless you have an Xbox!

While this was a delightful feature previously, it totally saved my bacon yesterday when I somehow completely forgot that the Vols were playing Ohio State at 9 a.m. (It may have had something to do with the fact that basketball was being played at 9 fucking a.m. I'm just saying.) When I realized in the middle of the afternoon that I'd totally forgotten to watch my favorite team, I was terrified. ESPN on demand on my Xbox to the rescue! It was awesome. Also awesome? Beating Ohio State.

Not awesome? My dogs cowering in fear when I yell at the TV during the games. You'd think they'd be used to that shit after football season.

Lord, Boston you're my home

Maybe you have to be from Boston to appreciate it, but this is f-ing hilarious.

First guy: Don't forget where you came from: Red Sox. Celtics. Bruins. Patriots.
Second guy: Maybe there's more to life than sports.
First guy: Take it back.

In what seems oddly appropriate, my dad (in Ohio) sent me the link.

Also? I cannot wait for the Sox season to start. Well, I can kind of wait, because March Madness is nigh!

Overtime is not good for my health

Jesus. By the time Gostkowski finally kicked it through the uprights, my heart was racing and I was rocking on the sofa. Then, when the win was secured, I clapped my hands together so hard, I still have red marks. (I'd say I don't know my own strength, but I've been noted for being freakishly strong for awhile now, so that would be a total lie.) The point is this: Patriots win! F-ing Ravens can suck it.

No. 25 in your program, number 1 in your hearts

I know Mike Lowell hasn't been at top form for awhile and I knew it was time for him to retire, but I'm still sad to see him go. Reading Beth's tribute to him made it all sink in. There will be no more heroics from Scenic Lowell for the Sox.

So I did a little digital searching of my own. He grabbed my heart pretty early on, despite replacing my beloved Billy Mueller. When he and Youkilis anchored first and third, it was pure poetry. The man could turn a mean double play. He also knows the hidden-ball trick. Three letters: MVP. I just wish he could have really played third base forever.

Our teams are very special

That was a fan-fucking-tastic football game, and yes, I am totally saying that because the Patriots won it, 41-14. It's also a significant moment in my life, because tonight is the night I say goodbye to fantasy football. Sure, it's only four games into the season, but I've lost every week. And this week? This week I lost by .5 points. That's right: 0.5 fucking points. And when I realized that (moments after an awesometastic beatdown by my boys), I was pissed. Why couldn't Tommy have thrown for 10 more yards? Welker caught two more passes? Well, no more. That's bullshit. I'm sure fantasy must be fun for some crazy bitches out there, but not for me. I'm not letting some made-up team ruin the joy of an ass-kicking in Miami -- because, let's face it, they don't come along that often. Plus, I totally need to savor this for two whole weeks -- perhaps three, as after next week's bye, they face the f-ing Ravens. Ugh.

We are the champions

The Storm win it! They swept the Atlanta Dream to take the WNBA title, and they went undefeated during the playoffs. So. Fucking. Utterly. Fantastic. Sure, I would have loved to see it in person, but I have it on good authority that there's going to be some celebrating tomorrow night, and I cannot wait.

My fabulous friend on the East Coast saw the news on ESPN, and called to congratulate me, which was awesome. While the Storm may not know it, I totally helped seal the win by wearing my lucky shirt during every playoff game. Victory is so very, very sweet, my friends.

I drink from the keg of glory! We won!!

Stormy weather

I swear I won't only blog about the Storm, though I have been somewhat single-minded lately. I can't help it! You know I'm a crazy sports fan, and I get very superstitious. I've been wearing the same shirt (no washing!) to every playoff game. I try to get J.R. to park in the same place. I won't Twitter until after the game is over. I'm basically a lunatic at this point.

It's paying off so far. The Storm won today, though it was down to the wire, and a Sue Bird jumper did it again. I'll be back at the Key for game 2, and you can tell that your team has really arrived when they get their flag up on the Space Needle -- and when someone steals your license plate bracket.

Go Storm!

Winning is soo much better than losing

I'm still a little stunned, but the Storm came back from -- what? 19 points at one time? -- to beat the Phoenix Mercury, 91-88, and win the Western Conference championship. So. Fucking. Awesome. I admit, there were times when I doubted we'd be able to pull out this win. I figured I could finally wash the grey "Bring it" t-shirt I've worn during all the Storm playoff games. I rationalized about coming back to Seattle, and how this team wouldn't lose two in a row. Turns out? Not necessary. A Bird 3-point dagger with 2.8 seconds left clinched the win. And now the Storm rest until next Sunday, when we start the WNBA Finals. Bring it!

We are home court advantage

Nothing like a playoff win against L.A. to get you all hyped up. Thanks, no doubt, to all my screaming and clapping, the Storm beat the Sparks, 79-66, tonight at the Key. And it was awesome.

A whole 'nother ball game

Last night, we went to see the Storm play the Phoenix Mercury. On the line? Clinching the number 1 seed in the Western Conference. I have to admit, in the first half, the Storm didn't look like they wanted to win. They looked confused and overmatched. But then -- I don't know if it was extra-special Gatorade or whatever Agler said at halftime, but the second half was an entirely different story. They were focused, tough on defense, and I swear, I screamed and clapped more than I have in a long, long time. I hope there were a few people watching on ESPN, because that was a damn good game. I'm actually kind of bummed I didn't tape it myself, because I'd love to hear the commentary. Also, I wouldn't mind reliving it without all the anxiety of 'Will the Storm pull this off?' I love this team.

A game and a half

Okay, that did not go exactly as I planned it. Well, to be fair, it was going fairly well until the bottom of the ninth. The Sox were up, 6-1, and all we needed was three measly outs to be singing "Dirty Water" softly to ourselves as we walked back to the parking garage. However, Manny Delcarmen had other ideas. Tito had other ideas. Scutaro and Bill Hall? Other ideas. Ideas that included not throwing strikes, giving up a two-run blast, not having someone warming up so you could yank Delcarmen (freshly off the DL) at a moment's notice, and then, why not? Infield errors. Paps finally came in, but he was off his game, too, and fuck it all to hell and back, we're tied, 6-6, at the end of 9. It was awful. I felt like someone kicked me in the gut. I was sure there was no way were were going to win -- I mean, John Lackey was throwing a no-hitter into the 8th! We were up by 5! To the Mariners! I'm pretty sure if NESN was still airing this debacle they showed my "WTF!?!" face multiple times. And as extra innings went on to extra innings, they surely got a glimpse of my "Please god, just let this end" face.

Inexplicably (after Okajima miraculously worked out of a bases-loaded, 1 out situation), the Sox won. Some guy named Patterson hit a 2-run double in the 13th. Ramon Ramirez managed not to suck and got three outs. And it was over. And I still felt sick, because that was some ugly fucking baseball right there. I can forgive bad pitching. Hey, it happens. I'm not as happy about the errors (you heard me, Bill Hall and Marco Scutaro -- no, your homeruns won't save you). And I'm not as happy about Tito putting too much faith in Delcarmen, and not having back-up at the ready. But we won. And we need to do it again. Today.

Happy days are here again

Today, I am happier than I have been in a long, long time. Because today, I will see my beloved Red Sox live and in person. Sure, it'll be at Safeco, a poor substitute for Fenway. Sure, I'll mostly be seeing AAA Pawtucket out there. But they wear the Red Sox uniform, and for that, they are my boys. We're hurting (literally). We're down. But we are not out. Oh, no, we are not out. The season starts now! We win tonight! (Please?)

Same shit, different year

Wow. Seven years later, and the same shit is still pissing me off. You'd think sports columnists would get sick of spouting the same drivel over and over, but no. Don't like the WNBA? Don't watch, dumbass, and for fuck's sake, please don't write about it. Although, in a way, I guess it continues to generate publicity for the league, and it proves that people do, in fact, know that the WNBA exists. Even if they don't know the top draft pick. (Tina Charles, if you're interested. And just as a sidenote, I love sports. Nearly all of them. And Tina is the only #1 draft pick that I can name -- don't know who it was for the NBA, NFL, or MLB this year.)

Update: Awesome response to the article from the guy over at 13 Teams, 1 Journey. And he did it all with way less swearing than me. Just a snippet:

"To compare apples to oranges (WNBA to NBA) is to say that men and women exist in a homogeneous grouping, genetically, physically, and cognitively. We know this not to be true. Does this make one better than the other? Absolutely not. Even though the argument between the genders has raged on for centuries, and I doubt it will stop any time soon. However, for Mr. Pearlman’s point, and his use of it, proves little, and validates less."

Storm warning

Sunday, J.R., Sam, and I went to the Storm season opener against the dreaded L.A. Sparks. Now, when she wore the orange, I loved me some Candace Parker. I truly did. Now, I get to dislike her intensely as a member of one of the few teams in the WNBA that I just cannot stand. I thought it might get better with the retirement of Lisa Leslie, but no. Perhaps it's the continued presence of D-Nasty. Perhaps it's just the ingrained "Beat L.A." mentality that I also heard much of in Boston. Maybe I just don't like purple and gold as a combo. I can't really say.

But I can say, we had a great time at the game. It was tight pretty much until the last few minutes of the fourth quarter, when the Storm were finally able to pull away and secure the win. I'd forgotten how much energy goes into attending a Storm game -- the standing up, the cheering, the clapping, all the criticizing of the bad officiating. It's rough. And I have to admit, I wasn't in shape for the start of the season as a STH. But I'm getting there. And I can't wait for the next game.

Going for the gold

I love the Olympics. I really do. It's one of the few times that I am blatantly and over-the-top nationalistic, plus I get to watch random sports that I would never see normally. Luge? Love it, though the track this year is scary. Skeleton? Just like luge, but face-first. Curling? Bizarre and fascinating in a slow way. Plus, I am all over Apolo Anton Ohno like you wouldn't believe. Dude has six medals (as of tonight!) and the mirrorball trophy. Also, Apolo was all fist-pumping glory even though he got the silver (of course, he was thisclose to getting nothing, so there is a reasonable cause for celebration there).

My problem is this: I can fricking spit at Canada from here. I can practically see the Olympic torch from my backyard. And yet -- and yet -- fucking NBC is airing shit on time delay. On the West Coast. It's in our time zone! Why am I not watching dramatic speed skating finishes fucking live?!? Why do I have to stay up until 1 a.m. trying to see the medal ceremonies for Apolo and the cutest little mogul skier you've ever seen, Hannah Kearney? And while I'm on that subject, why the hell didn't NBC air the medal ceremonies for Apolo and Hannah?

Hell. I'm already cranky, and it's only the first night of competition, for chrissakes. Just imagine how I'll feel once figure skating gets going.

Sweet, sweet victory

Super Bowl Sunday was, in fact, super for many reasons. I finally got to the post office and mailed a few items that I purchased, like, forever ago. Then Deonn and Mark hosted an awesome party (with significant food contributions from Kurt and Marie). And the Saints! The Saints were best of all, beating Manning & co., with that especially sweet-ass interception. If it couldn't be the Pats, I'll take the Saints. As for the ads, wow, did they blow. None really stick out -- good or bad. I remember the Google ad because the room full of Microsofties talked about it. And what I remember was this: What a waste of money! A bunch of screen shots -- c'mon, Google, you can do better than that.

Triple the fun

Last night, J.R. and I went to the Storm game with a bunch of friends to watch the face-off with L.A. (always an entertaining, if often frustrating game). And man, did we get our money's worth. Tied in regulation. Tied after the first overtime. Tied after the second overtime. That's right: Triple overtime! Two Storm players fouled out, one Sparks player fouled out (D-Nasty, who should have fouled out much earlier). Incredible. The Storm finally pulled away behind a trio of sweet three-pointers from Sue Bird and won, 98-87. J.R. and I were both hoarse from all the screaming (only some of it at the refs), and my hands hurt from all the clapping. Awesome game. Though I would have preferred to win in regulation by a comfortable margin, this worked as well.