Sunday, May 06, 2007

Trapp Family Singers

Games 28 & 29 - Red Sox

Red Sox 2, Minnesota Twins 0
Twins 2, Red Sox 1

After a terrific pitching performance by Tim Wakefield and the Sox bullpen on Friday, the new-found magic of the Tivo allowed me to spend last night with a few of my favorite things: the Sox, Old 97's, and a brace of Mendocino Brewing Company's Red Tail Ale.

In a nod to my wife's summerlong baseball widow status, I acceded to watching The Break Up on HBO last night - a decision made much less painful because I was recording the Sox game and the Old 97's are featured in the movie. The movie's a relatively painless two hours of cinematic fare - it's never all that difficult to look at Jennifer Aniston, and I'm a fan of the Vince Vaughn experience. The aforementioned Texas rockers show up in a live concert scene towards the film's end, with Murry Hammond's "Hello everybody!" kicking off the always-rousing first few bars of "Timebomb". Snippets from "Salome" and "Melt Show" follow - enough to tease, but not quite a full meal.

The Sox' offense, viewed upon completion of the movie, followed the script implied in that last line above to a snug-fitting tee. 11 runners left on base, including 3 in the very first frame, spelled doom for the good guys, even as they made Johan Santana work for his supper. The Sox knocked the Twins' ace out of the game after 5 hard-fought innings and 99 pitches. Meantimes, the frequently cursed Julian Tavarez (and I mean cursed at, not metaphysically jinxed) gave up a mere 4 hits and 2 runs in 6 strong innings. I accept the fact that the Sox are most likely gonna lose when the managers inscribe Santana vs. Tavarez on their respective lineup cards; I just don't dig that the Sox offense seemed to do so, too.

I also don't dig programming that emanates from the Twins' regional network instead of my homies RemDawg and Orsillo. Fox Sports North's duo of Dick Bremer and Bert Blyleven have taken homerism to a new level of artistic expression. We're in Sonny, Sam, and Frank territory here. On Friday, the Twinkie booth went plaid, first clearly blowing a call at first when J.D. Drew was obviously safe, then excoriating the umpiring crew for missing the exact same call in exactly the same manner against the Twins. I watched a lot of last night's game with the sound off, cranking the iPod while playing with my kids to keep my blood pressure manageable.

Schilling against Ponson this afternoon along the Mississippi River, and I'll probably have to listen to the FSN North team yet again. Good thing I've got a few more of those Red Tails in the fridge. Mismatch on paper, but so was Santana/Tavarez, and that shoulda coulda woulda turned out in the Sox' favor.

Finally, lifting two wheels off the ground in a screeching segue, I find the burgeoning Whitney/mets grrl comment relationship too cute for words. Perhaps I'm just jealous that Sox fans seem to avoid this little corner of the blogosphere like the plague.

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