Sloopy45
Pimp Minister Sinister
Ah yes. October baseball once again, and the broken record is skipping: "This is Our Year" is the Boston slogan. "Bring 'Em On!" is the headline on the Boston Globe. (Stop me if you've heard this one before). The leaves are turning color, and there's a slight chill in the Autumn air. The long-suffering New England liberals, poets, intellectuals, and scribes all come back from a balmy summer on the beaches of Cape Cod, put away their swimming trunks, shorts, and sandals for the winter, proudly don their fleece pull-overs & beaten up baseball caps, and look forward with bated breath in anticipation of "the moment." The moment where the dumbest trade in the history of pro sports is wiped away. The moment that their great grandfather Red Sox fan wasn't old enough to be born for yet. The moment that has never been broadcast on even radio because, well, it was so damn long ago that games weren't even broadcast on the radio back then. There's no video, audio, and only grainy black and white pictures of it remain.
In fact, its so damn long ago, that I imagine Tonto the Indian rolled out his tee-pee, mounted his horse, rode down to Causeway Street, and sold his ticket for the 1918 World Series to one of the Pilgrims for a ruble and a pebble.
The moment that I'm referring to is this: the Boston Red Sox win the Woooooooo. Win the Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. The Wooooooooooo. (Sorry, I'm trying to type it, but for some reason, my keyboard won't let me get the sentence out). Let me try another inconceivable sentence and see if it works: The Sun Rises in the West. Pi = 4.77. An Isoceles Triangle has three equal angles. The Los Angeles Clippers are the World Champions of Basketball!! Rutgers University has just won the College Football National Championship!! Hmmm: strange how it works there, but anyway, I digress:
Those bleeding heart fans descend upon Fenway Park knowing that this is "their year." They've been teased many times before. Unlike the Cubs who lose painlessly, the Red Sox always take it to Game 7, get a big lead, and allow the dreamers to dream: its 5-2 in the 8th Inning. Five more outs, and maybe my mother wasn't lying: there is a Santa Claus. Maybe there could be World Peace. Maybe the Red Sox could win the Woooooooooo.
Maybe, just maybe: what could be if Jim Rice didn't get hurt before the '75 Playoffs? What if Teddy Ballgame hadn't slumped in the '46 Series? What if that ball hadn't rolled through Buckner's legs? How would my life be different if Tony C. hadn't got beaned in '67? What if Grady had gone to the Bullpen? What if Bucky hadn't gone yard? Would we win the Championship if we could've beaten the hated Yankees in one of the last two games in '49?
In American pop-culture, there are many quests that're documented: Captain Ahab's quest of Moby Dick, and Wild E. Coyote's unending hunger for the Road Runner, to name two.
Upon looking at the ALCS, my analysis is this: "Mystique" and "Aura" sure are night club dancers. If you'd like to see them perform, they'll be at 161st Street and River Avenue in the Bronx all October. And Captain Ahab will be eating Whale Chops, Whale Burgers, Whale Chips, and Whale Dip alongside Wild E. Coyote enjoying his Road Runner stew at Stan's Sports Bar across the street with the sun about to rise in the West behind them before the Red Sox take us down on a path to the World Series!!
EMPIRE IN FREEKING SEVEN!! SCREW THE ANGELS, NOW ITS TIME TO PLAY THE VARSITY!!!
In fact, its so damn long ago, that I imagine Tonto the Indian rolled out his tee-pee, mounted his horse, rode down to Causeway Street, and sold his ticket for the 1918 World Series to one of the Pilgrims for a ruble and a pebble.
The moment that I'm referring to is this: the Boston Red Sox win the Woooooooo. Win the Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. The Wooooooooooo. (Sorry, I'm trying to type it, but for some reason, my keyboard won't let me get the sentence out). Let me try another inconceivable sentence and see if it works: The Sun Rises in the West. Pi = 4.77. An Isoceles Triangle has three equal angles. The Los Angeles Clippers are the World Champions of Basketball!! Rutgers University has just won the College Football National Championship!! Hmmm: strange how it works there, but anyway, I digress:
Those bleeding heart fans descend upon Fenway Park knowing that this is "their year." They've been teased many times before. Unlike the Cubs who lose painlessly, the Red Sox always take it to Game 7, get a big lead, and allow the dreamers to dream: its 5-2 in the 8th Inning. Five more outs, and maybe my mother wasn't lying: there is a Santa Claus. Maybe there could be World Peace. Maybe the Red Sox could win the Woooooooooo.
Maybe, just maybe: what could be if Jim Rice didn't get hurt before the '75 Playoffs? What if Teddy Ballgame hadn't slumped in the '46 Series? What if that ball hadn't rolled through Buckner's legs? How would my life be different if Tony C. hadn't got beaned in '67? What if Grady had gone to the Bullpen? What if Bucky hadn't gone yard? Would we win the Championship if we could've beaten the hated Yankees in one of the last two games in '49?
In American pop-culture, there are many quests that're documented: Captain Ahab's quest of Moby Dick, and Wild E. Coyote's unending hunger for the Road Runner, to name two.
Upon looking at the ALCS, my analysis is this: "Mystique" and "Aura" sure are night club dancers. If you'd like to see them perform, they'll be at 161st Street and River Avenue in the Bronx all October. And Captain Ahab will be eating Whale Chops, Whale Burgers, Whale Chips, and Whale Dip alongside Wild E. Coyote enjoying his Road Runner stew at Stan's Sports Bar across the street with the sun about to rise in the West behind them before the Red Sox take us down on a path to the World Series!!
EMPIRE IN FREEKING SEVEN!! SCREW THE ANGELS, NOW ITS TIME TO PLAY THE VARSITY!!!
