Yankees Dominate -- Lousy Teams, Come Up Short Against Quality

Curse of the Giambino: Throwing error allows run to score

Boomer: Rough Start, but Settles Down for 7 innings

TEK: Long Ball Returns

Just Chewey Bein' Chewey

September Song

Written by Maxwell Anderson and Kurt Weill

Well, it's a long, long time
From May to December
But the days grow short
When you reach September
And the autumn weather
Turns the leaves to gray
And I haven't got time
For the waiting game

And the days dwindle down
To a precious few
September, November...
And these few precious days
I spend with you

These precious days
I spend with you
And the days dwindle down
To a precious few
September, November...
And these few precious days
I spend with you
These precious days
I spend with you

Papelbon: Stud

Sox Magic Number: 34

Manny: Money

Too Little, Too Late

Red Sox acquire P Stanton for final run toward playoffs


Sep. 29, 2005CBS SportsLine.com wire reports


BOSTON -- The Red Sox acquired left-hander Mike Stanton from the Washington Nationals on Thursday for right-handers Rhys Taylor and Yader Peralta.

Boston's trade means Stanton could wind up pitching this weekend against his former team, the New York Yankees. If the Red Sox advance to the playoffs, Stanton would not be eligible for the postseason roster.

I had this bad dream where Big Pappi bunted with men on base. Weird, huh?

Population: 4 (Sox, Sox, Skanks and Tribe)

Sox Heavyweight Strategy

Pitch Like a Butterfly; Hit Like the B's.
Sox 3; Jays 1.

Rain: Man!

Just wouldn't be the playoffs (de facto) without rain in Boston. The Sox and the wet stuff have a long history. Good omen or bad, you just gotta Love That Dirty Water.

We Happy Few

St. Fenway's Day Speech

William Shakespeare, 2005

Enter BIG PAPPI

FRANCONA. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in Pawtucket
That do no work to-day!

BIG PAPPI. What's he that wishes so?
My manager Francona? No, my fair manager;
If we are mark'd to lose, we are enow
To do our Nation loss; and if to win,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.

God's will! I pray thee, wish not one September call-up more.

By Yaz, I am not covetous for a performance bonus,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my MVP trophy;
It yearns me not if men my MLB licensed gear wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.

But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.

No, faith, my manager, wish not a man from Pawtucket.

God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!

Rather proclaim it, Francona, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not lose in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to lose with us.

This day is call'd the Feast of Fenway.

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Fenway.

He that shall win this week, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Fenway.'

Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Fenway's day.'

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Big Pappi, Tek and Trot,
Schilling and Edgar, Johnny and Manny -
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.

This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Fenway Park shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we Band of Idiots;
For he to-day that sheds his sweat with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in New England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Fenway's day.

Must be the Stones - Cause We're Rolling

The Band of Idiots puts the O's Under Their Thumb. A lot of Satisfaction in Baltimore.

Need to win. Yanks and Tribe Refuse to Lose.

Back to the Fens for semi-finals of the AL East Playoffs.

Baltimore: Intense City

This one had that playoff feel. Cool and cloudy day in Baltimore. Sox get 2 in the first and then the O's come back to tie. Sox get 2 in the ninth and Timmy closes the door. Sat there all game looking at the Yankees 7-4 loss. Sox threw some good leather too, a couple of nice deux plays and Meuller with a couple of nice plays at the hot corner. Lousy seats, but fun time with the Nation.

Need Boomer to be Boomer tomorrow.

One Game at a Time

Personal appearance at the Yards (Section 340, Row BB, Seat 3). Called Manny's shot (dude, don't ever go 3-2 on Manny when it counts). Thx to Miggy for the error (must be the B-12 shots). My line: "Raffi would have had it!" Got a chuckle from the assembled Nation ex-Patriots.

Round 2 today. This time we're in left field. See you there.

P.S. Yankees suck.

Sox on Route to Classic Choke

The White Sox, silly!!

Delta Blues

D-Day: Season's over, man. Torre dropped the big one.
Bluto: Over? Did you say "over"? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!
Otter: Germans?
Boon: Forget it, he's rolling.
Bluto: And it ain't over now. 'Cause when the goin' gets tough...the tough get goin'! Who's with me? Let's go!
[Runs out, alone, then returns.]
Bluto: What the [heck] happened to the Nation I used to know? Where's the spirit? Where's the guts, huh? "Ooh, we're afraid to go with you , we might get in trouble." Well just kiss my [butt] from now on! Not me! I'm not gonna take this. Torre , he's a dead man! Jeter , dead! A-Rod...
Otter: Dead! Bluto's right. Psychotic, but absolutely right. We gotta take these bastards. Now we could do it with conventional weapons that could take years and cost millions of lives. No, I think we have to go all out. I think that this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody's part.
Bluto: We're just the guys to do it.
D-Day: Let's do it.
Bluto: LET'S DO IT!

SEE YOU AT CAMDEN YARDS THIS WEEKEND.

We're Number 2!! (with a bullet)

But don't worry, if the season ended today, the Sox would be out of the playoffs.

Order Restored (For Now)

Ortizzle, Yazizle, Fashizzle

MVP

Nation Turns Its Lonley Eyes to You (Woo, Woo, Woo)

Let's hope, Curt has not left and gone away (hey, hey, hey).

Time to Concentrate

3 from the Rays Would Be Nice.

Sox Get Good Old Fashioned A-Whippin'

But Alan Embree Comes Through Again and allows winning run to score for Blue Jays. Yankees Fail to pick up ground.

Put Up or Shut Up Time

Arroyo Up to the Test, Sox Win 2-1.

A for Effort

Manny Walks Offs After [Being] Hit in the 10th.

Wake and Big Pappi Rise to the Occasion [Did you expect any less from these two?]

Era of Good Feelings Officially OVER

Maybe like me, up until now you have been basking in the glow of the New World Order. No more curse, no more second-class citizenship, no more Bill Buckner, Bucky Dent, Calvin Schiraldi (this list is just too long).

Well, FORGET IT! As of last night, you are officially back to being a Red Sox fan. Yes, you are. I know that you're thinking about 1978. Don't deny it.

Face it, you're an addict, and some part of you likes being back to the nailing-biting, stress of watching the Sox's lead melt away to the Evil Empire.

I just wanted to let you know this, because you think it's just you. Well it's not.

Climb on his back fellas. Big Pappi goes yard again to give Sox the Win.

Sign of the Times

Big Pappi homers in the 11th to give Sox the Win

And the Pocket Rocket throws 3 innings of shut-out relief and gets the win. Sox get the win, but giving up 5 run leads in the 7th? - not a good thing.

Rays and A's Hold The Keys

20 Games to Go. Sox have more games at home, but Yankees appear to have the easier schedule. Sox and Yankees play the same teams except the Sox have to play 4 games agasint Oakland at home while the Yankees get 3 games against the D-Rays in Tampa.

Let's hope Sweet Lou can take 2 of 3 from Lord Steinbrenner.

Wake Matches Unit Pitch for Pitch; But Giambi Proves that HGH Works

Return of the Jedi

Schill Takes Down the Empire.

Act 3. Scene I

SCENE I. New York. The Bronx.
Alarum. Enter BIG PAPPI, MANNY, TEK, TROT, and Soldiers, with scaling-ladders

BIG PAPPI

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our New England dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let pry through the portage of the headLike the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English. Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof! Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,Have in these parts from morn till even foughtAnd sheathed their swords for lack of argument:Dishonour not your mothers; now attest That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit, and upon this chargeCry 'God for Theo, New England, and Saint George!'Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off

Fenway Memories to Last Forever

Remind You of Anything!

Boston Red Sox' David Ortiz leaps onto home plate with his teammates waiting after hitting a walk-off home run during the ninth inning of the Red Sox' 3-2 win over the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim at Fenway Park in Boston Tuesday, Sept. 6, 2005

Laboring Day

Hard Days Night for Schill. Pale Hose drop Carmines 5-3.

Johnny Comes Marching Home Again, Hurrah, Hurrah

Johnny O, Knocks O's; Boomer's apology ACCEPTED . . . completely.

Peetching? We don't need no stinkin' peetching.

Sox have18 wins in the last 19 in the Fens, despite a 4.92 team ERA in that span. Of course, they've hit .327, clubbed 28 home runs, and averaged 8.4 runs in those 19 games.