ELRR Graveyard

This blog is no longer active. It's pretty much just a bunch of drunken idiocy mixed with senseless ramblings. A more refined blog can be viewed at riraho.blogspot.com.

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Bob Nystrom scores the goal! The Islanders win The Stanley Cup!

Tonight was horrid. Woke up at 2:30 in the afternoon, and got a call from Braud asking me to work for him. I denied him. Then at 3:10, he calls back again and offers 20$ and tells me im first out. I figure Tuesday wouldnt be too busy, so i agree. Then i realize that i would not be first out, but LAST out. That wouldnt be too bad as long as it wasn't busy. But since its me, and in my life, anything bad that can happen will happen. Sorry to everyone for me being there. It was just hectic and we had to go on list. Turns out Brad hornswaggled Steph and me, so he can die the deaths of ten men for that one. Well, not before he gets me the 20$. Now i get to train Keri how to close tomorrow night, which wont be bad, because shes nice and will be there all night, so i dont get blasted by my lonesome. So goes my pitifull life.

The Red Sox traded Nomar Garciaparra the other day. He was THE fan favorite in Boston since 1999 or so. Before last year, i would never have thought they would trade their playoff megastar from 1998 and 1999. Then i watched him hit for shit in the playoffs last year, and i got real tired of him. I was all for them getting rid of his ass after the ALCS. Earlier in 2o03, Nomar rejected a 15$ million per year contract. The Red Sox management decided that he wasnt coming back, and saw how he went so far downhill batting and fielding, and decided that they should try to go after Alex Rodriguez. Needless to say that didnt pan out and it hurt poor Nomar's feelings. He started being an outcast and moping around, being a general poor sport loser crybaby. So it wasnt only neccessary to trade the big vagina. So good that hes gone. The Sox are better off without him, chemistry, defensively, and morale wise.

Since its 2am, and speaking of sports, i felt like writing out my definative sports fanatic stories. I'll start off with Baseball and do hockey and football in the coming posts.

I guess my peak fanaticism towards the Boston Red Sox was in 1995-1996. I listened to every game those summers out on my dads van radio. Nothing like being out in the van with a glass of tea and some pretzels until 2am while the Red Sox made their west coast swings. I kind of got away from Baseball, until the 2003 season. The Sox won the Wild Card, and beat Oakland in a classic series. Then they moved onto an even more classic Series against the Yankees in the ALCS. Here it was...the Red Sox and the Yanks in the playoffs again. The Red Sox had one of the best offenses in MLB history. They won game 1 and i was sure this was the series they could finally beat the curse. The series went back and forth and before i knew it, the Red Sox and Yankees would play Game 7 for the right to play in the World Series. It would be Pedro Martinez and Roger Clemens, arguably 2 of the best pitchers of the generation and my life time. Maybe the most anticipated Baseball game ever played. If Boston could win, they would finally get the Yankees after the Yankees getting them for 80+ years, finally get Roger Clemens back, and maybe get to finally win the World Series against the very beatable Marlins. The Red Sox took an early 4-0 lead, chased Clemens from the game and really really looked like they could pull it off. I was gleefull. More than the Game 7, i wanted them to stick it to Clemens, Steinbrenner, and New York city. The Yankees pulled within 4-2, then they brought in David Wells to pitch to David Ortiz. Wells first pitch was belted by Ortiz into the black stands in dead center. It was 5-2, and i was absolutely positive they were going to do it, Pedro was still cruising. Get the Yankees! Revenge! 1918, Babe Ruth, Bucky Dent...all would be alright after that night. Flash forward to the 8th. Red Sox still up 5-2, Pedro still pitching. Pedro lets up some hits and its 5-3. 2 men on, 1 out. Still the Red Sox have the 2 run lead and are 5 outs away. Grady Little comes out to check on Pedro. At home, i yell at the screen: "Its Pedro, hes the best, he's going to reach back and pull the best pitches of his career out of that glove and we are going to the World Series!" Little checks, asks Pedro, leaves him in, heads to the dug out. I feel fine, the right decision has been made. One broken bat single from Jorge Posada later, all of New England, Red Sox nation, and 1 fan in Lancaster Pennsylvania, are awestruck. Deflated, i see the Yankees tie the game. I cannot get over it. They had it and blew it. Its 1978 and the Boston Masacre all over again. Its 4 game sweeps to Oakland in 1988 and 1990 all over again. Its Bill Bucker Game 6 10th inning all over again. Boston was in control, and they blew it. I never believed there was a curse on Boston, but now it was apparent. Destined to get to the brink, only to blow it in the worst imaginable way. Sure it was still a tie game. They could have technically won the game. But i knew better. After Martinez gave up the 2 runs in the 8th to tie it, there was no chance in hell of the Red Sox winning that game. The 9th went by, along with the 10th. I don't think the Red Sox made solid contact off Mariano Rivera, let alone a hit. After the Red Sox half of the 11th, i got in bed and tried to fall asleep before the Yankees won. Before the commercial break, they showed the Yankees due up in the bottom of the 11th. I saw Aaron Boone was up first. Instantly, i knew Boone, who couldnt hit the broad side of a barn since the Yankees traded for him months earlier, like any other schmuck New York gets and turns into a playoff and World Series hero does, would hit a homer to win it. I just knew it. So i flip thru the channels during the break. Lets see what happens, i think to myself as i change it back to the game. When i get back to FOX, i am greeted with the Yankees dancing around home plate. I bounce out of bed. What happened i scream. After a minute of seeing the Yankees parade around, American League Champions, i found out. Sure enough, Aaron Boone hit Tim Wakefields first pitch into the left field stands. That son of a bitch, who hit like Bob Ueker the entire time he was with the Yankees, hit a home run to become the hero. I wasn't dismal because Boston had lost. It was like i was hurt that i would actually believe Boston could beat New York. I felt so gullible. The Red Sox had made it so far...5 outs from the World Series, and they blew it. Getting to that point alone was so hard, getting back might take another 85 years. So after i was clued into how they lost it, i was off like a race car to the Fairview to meet up with Kyle to bitch and complain.

Current TV: Quantum Leap


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