Baseball on my Mind

I'm listening to Richard Thompson covering a Britney Spears song and contemplating the Red Sox in the World Series with a 3-0 lead.

Strange days, my friends, strange days. I'm having a wee bit of trouble concentrating; my thoughts ricochet from one subject to another like a stone skipping across water. My head's a zig zaggy muddle and likely this post will just as off kilter. But I don't care. I got my wish.

Speaking of music, ESPN.com's Page 3 has a listing of the at-bat songs for the Red Sox. Start your CD burners ladie and gents. Big Papi likes Jump Around. Dig it.

The Sons of Sam Horn Win It For thread continues to grow. It's garnered attention across the internet and even, I believe, in the main stream press. Take a look but beware - as I warned previously some of the posts are heart-wrenching:

Win it for my brother, Johnny, who left Boston in 1944 for the South Pacific, a Red Sox hat adorning his head. He was a nineteen year old kid who loved five things - his country, his family, the Red Sox, Fenway Park, and Ted Williams. He lost his life at a hellhole called Okinawa.

There hasn't been a single day that hasn't gone by when I don't think of him.

This one's for you, JB.

I have my own 'win it for' wishes. I'm just keeping them close. For now.

I really enjoyed this article in the Boston Globe which should've been titled The Education of Bronson Arroyo:

He is surrounded by veteran pitchers who have been here before, and he has tried to learn something from each of them. They have embraced him because he is young and eager and interested in the way they go about their job.

Curt Schilling is his conscience, reviewing each little slip-up, and offering solutions for the next time. Pedro, alternately brilliant and brooding, studies his lanky teammate, says nothing for days, then drops a pearl of wisdom in his cap. Tim Wakefield, everybody's friend, encourages Arroyo regardless of the outcome. Derek Lowe, who has become Arroyo's closest friend on the team, is the one who vents and allows Arroyo to vent in return.

The young pitcher marvels at them all. He is respectful of their space -- he rarely approaches Martinez, for instance -- but is also delighted when they release some of their stress behind the closed doors of the clubhouse.

"Pedro does so many crazy things," Arroyo said. "Some days, you don't even know he's there, but then the next day he's running around the clubhouse naked, screaming at everyone.

"Sometimes it's hard for me to believe that guy is the same guy who goes out on the mound and has a look in his eyes like a killer."

Curt Schilling bitchslapping the media isn't exactly news to anyone around here who's heard 'Curt in a Car' tearing a piece off of some talk show dolt. Boston Dirt Dogs has an interview in which Schill goes national and lays the smack down on the likes of Laura Vecsey (Baltimore Sun) and John Heyman (New York Newsday). Some choice quotes:

BDD:Any reply to Ms. Vecsey on the spirit of her piece?

CS: "Other than she's a bad person? No. There are a lot of her in that industry, Pedro Gomez, Joel Heyman, to name a few. People with so little skill in their profession that they need to speculate, make up, fabricate, to write something interesting enough to be printed. What makes them bad people? I am sure I cannot nail the exact reason, but I know some."

"Jealousy, bitterness, the need to be "different", I am sure there are others, but those are the ones I know off hand. There are so many ironies to these people and what they do. An athlete is quiet like Matt Williams, he's an SOB and a horrible guy (which he wasn't) for not talking to the press. An athlete answers the media's questions in yes/no format, he's dull, he's a cliche-spewing idiot. An athlete answers the media's questions with what he believes, right or wrong, he's a media whore. It's pretty much a no win, especially in markets like Boston and NY, where the sheer volume of media means there is gonna be some crap written every single day."

Check out Keys to the Game. It's funny and fun, and this should all be fun right? Even if some people feel the need to point out that I act a little 'on edge' during games, that I pace too much and my face changes color, I assure you I'm having fun.

Really. My definition of 'fun' has simply had to become a little more... elastic of late.

And now Richard Thompson is covering the Beatles' It Won't Be Long. Dig it.