Yes, I know I should be talking about Kyle Snyder; the guy who wasn’t good enough to pitch for last place Kansas City, but could start for the 1st place Boston Red Sox and go 5 innings, 3 ER with a W. Or I should be talking about Manny’s inexplicable daydreaming on deck when he should have been screaming at Loretta to slide into home rather than do some weird pirouette to get tagged out. Or I could make the 75th “Welcome Back Kotter” reference about Kapler.

No, none of that was nearly as interesting to me as Rudy Seanez going a full inning without giving up a run. According to him, he “[doesn't] give a shit” about getting booed. “It [doesn't] bother [him] at all.” I’d like to believe that getting kicked in the crotch gives every man a new outlook on life, and maybe he finally realized that sucking just doesn’t cut it in this town. Or maybe he just got lucky. I’d like to believe it’s the former.

So congrats Kyle, let’s hope this is the first of many. And welcome back Kap, you will probably get booed at some point this season when you get into a slump. But it’s great to have you back.

Happy Father’s Day to all the Dads out there. And especially to mine. I joke that when I was growing up there were two religions in my house: my Mom taught us Judaism, and my Dad taught us baseball. I’m glad I have both.

To commemorate yet another Hallmark holiday, Major League Baseball put light blue ribbons on the bases to help raise prostate cancer awareness. It would have been more effective for them to enlarge the bases for the day.

Thank you to Trot, Tek, Coco, Lowell, Cora and of course Youk for saving Father’s day in the 8th. They’re kind of like Santa Claus, but instead of red and white, they had to wear the road greys.

With the wonderful win today, I would like to give out a special father’s day gift. Rudy Seanez, where are you? Come on up here! You see, Rudy came into today’s game in the bottom of the 7th with two on and two out. It only took him one 86mph fastball with zero movement that according to him “wasn’t a bad pitch” to give up a 3-run bomb and the lead. Rudy has been giving Red Sox fans wonderful moments like these all season long, and so, I think his kids should have the opportunity to give the Ultimate Fighter a swift kick in the crotch. Maybe then he can understand the feeling of Sox fans whenever he takes the hill.

Dear Josh,

Every relationship has it’s ups and its downs. Ours is no different. You may have been able to get me drunk and play around with me today for the win, but it doesn’t mean that you’ve learned anything. You still don’t know how to satisfy me by throwing me for strikes. Learn to play with the curveball and the change, and to throw them for strikes. I’m not going to take you back until that happens. Otherwise this whole thing just isn’t going to last.

Love,
Your screaming two-seamer

In 1997 I was on the Minnesota Twins t-ball team. I can remember watching the World Series with my Dad in the den, and rooting my heart out for Kirby Puckett. Up until a few years ago, he was one of the great guys in the game. Played his heart out and never was a bad word said about him. Even when the controversial stories came out I tried to ignore them because he was one of my heros growing up. But this week he crossed the line.

After that atrocious sweep in the dump of a baseball stadium that they call the Metrodome (their outfield wall is a glorified Hefty trash bag!), I have no doubt that we were hurt by the curse of Kirby. You see, when David Ortiz became Big Papi he had no problem lashing out on the Minnesota Twins. He also quickly took Kirby’s number 34. I don’t think Kirby liked either of these acts.

On Tuesday, Papi crushed what would have been a go-ahead 2-run home run in most places in the top of the 9th, only to have it be a very long out. But yesterday was the most obvious work of Kirby. In a 4-0 game Papi hit a ball that according to Torii Hunter would have gone 450 feet. Instead, it “magically” hits a speaker and falls for the longest single this side of Robin Ventura’s grand slam single in the 1999 NLCS.

I’m sorry Kirby, that was the last straw. You’ve forced me to only idolize only one number 34 and, speaker or not, Big Papi is my man. So please, let’s not make this any more difficult than it has to be. I don’t want to come back to that terrible home of yours until next year. Deal?

That pretty much sums up my feelings from last night’s game. Remember guys, with our bullpen 3 runs in 21 innings aint going to get the job done.

I once had a friend who I’d go bar hopping with. I saw a cute girl, so I asked him to be my wingman. As soon as we got over there, rather than being my wingman, he turned the tables and left me with a 250lb girl with acne who wouldn’t shut up about how she was going to be a TV writer and was only being a waitress to pay the bills. When I caught up with him the next day he apologized, and promised he’d do better next time.

Well the next time came. The only difference was that he expected me to buy the rounds. Needless to say, I stopped hanging out with the guy.

Julian Tavarez is the pitcher version of this guy. Says he’s your friend, screws up. Says he’ll do better, screws up even worse. Julian, please get off of my team.

That’s got to be one of the coolest pictures of a walk-off mob I’ve ever seen.

I’ve been trying to think for the past day and a half about what I should say about Papi’s latest heroics. Was it amazing? Of course. Was it a surprise? Not to Papi. Was I pumping my fist like a madman and cheering like crazy alone in my apartment while Orsillo screamed “There’s a drive deep to right…how many times can he go to the well?” Hells yeah.

It sounds like Manny Delcarmen was about as excited as I was though:

“I jumped over the [dugout] fence and fell flat on my face.”

Rather than come up with something witty about the home run, I thought I’d just point this little statistic:

Number of Walk-off Home Runs (since 1996)
David Ortiz: 6 regular season + 2 post-season
Captain Intangibles: 1 regular season + 1 post-season

Oh yeah, and Big Papi has only been playing in the majors since 1997, full-time since 2000, and wasn’t in a playoff game until 2003.

I really wanted to talk about Lester today. If all had gone well I’d be discussing how well he did against a very tough Texas lineup and how he’ll be making a fool out of himself in a Hooters outfit later this season. Instead I’ve got to talk about Tito.

I know all radio and TV broadcasts are on a 7-second delay. It seems more and more that Tito is on a 7-minute delay. By the time he comes to the mound to take out a reliever in a close game, the pitcher has already either a) loaded the bases with less than two outs and put the tying run at third or b) already given up the lead. On Tuesday night in New York he did this with Seanez. Friday night he let Hansen get runners at the corners with 1 out in a 3-2 game resulting in Paps’ first blown save. Maybe he just wanted to give everyone in the bullpen a shot at screwing up a game, so he leaves Tavarez in after 2.1+ innings tonight when he clearly has lost his command and results in getting the loss.

Please Tito, don’t be Grady.

It had to end sometime. We knew he wasn’t going to challenge Gagne’s streak. While part of me wishes that Tito didn’t bring Paps in with runners on the corners to get 4 outs, the other part is glad that we still got the win after he blew his first save. At least he made the Rangers hitters look silly in the 9th by striking out the side…swinging.

Here’s your disgusting statistic of the game: in EVERY inning last night the Sox got at least one hit, but they only scored in two innings (1st and 8th). And Wake has still got to be wondering what he has to do to get a win. 7 innings, 2 runs apparently isn’t good enough. Even though the rest of the offense still has something against Wake, I guess he made up with Trot cause his 4-4 performance basically accounted for all 4 runs. Right now Wake may have to throw a no-no to get the W.

Tomorrow it’s two for the price of one. Time for Paps to begin a new streak.

JASON VARITEK WALKS INTO THE RED SOX DUGOUT AFTER GROUNDING INTO A FIELDERS CHOICE. HE PUTS HIS HELMET BACK AND STARTS TO PUT ON HIS PADS. CURT SCHILLING WALKS UP TO HIM.

Curt: Hey, Tek, can I talk to you about something?

Tek: Yeah, I’m sorry, that was the wrong pitch to throw to Bernie.

Curt: No, it’s not that. How do I put this lightly…

CURT LOOKS OFF TO THE SIDE AS HE THINKS, AND THEN LOOKS BACK WITH FRUSTRATION

Curt: you’re fucking killing our offense out there. Inning ending double plays, grounding out with a runner on first and no outs, what’s the deal??

Tek: (Defensively) Look, I’m really sorry, but you know I can’t hit against Mussina! The guy just owns me.

Curt: Uhhh, you’ve been facing Jared Wright.

Tek: Huh?

Curt: Did you not notice that (makes quote marks with his fingers) “Mussina” gained about 40 pounds?

TEK LOOKS OUT TO THE MOUND, LOOKS BACK AT SCHILLING CONFUSED, LOOKS BACK TO THE MOUND, AND LOOKS BACK TO SCHILLING.

Tek: Holy shit, you’re right!

CURT NODS.

Tek: OK, game’s in the bag.