Our little Mikey is all growns up.  He's growns up and he's growns up and he's growns up.  -Swingers 

Public Service Announcement:  Ok, here we go!  Woo doggie!  Here we are.  He we are in round two.  Round two, I'm down to, do, what it takes to make you understand I'm the Candyman and I melt in your mouth, not in your hands.  The Boston Red Sox don't melt in your hands.  Not by a longshot.  Good to the last drop.  Good to the last drop against the best record in baseball.  Good to the last drop as the Red Sox marched foward towards their third pennant in five years.  And they'll be good to last drop again against these upstart Tampa Bay Devil Rays.

Excuse me if I'm not ready to march in the Ray Pride Parade quite yet.  Excuse me for not going all in with the kids.  It hurts doesn't it?  Your hopes dashed, your dreams down the toilet.  And your fate is sitting right besides you.  Sitting right beside the Rays are the Boston Red Sox.  Sitting right beside the Rays are the reigning Champeens of the World.  Sitting right beside the Rays is experience.  Having been there.  Having done that.  Sitting right beside the Rays is one scary ball team.

Take the Captain.  Please.  Take Captain Fantastic.  Captain Dynamite.  You saw him.  No not the tag.  The tag was big.  No, I'm talking about the hit.  You saw the hit.  Saw it a little bit.  You saw Jason Varitek stroll to the plate with one out and Mark Kotsay at first.   Varitek fighting and fighting against Big John Lackey.  Fighting his way to a full count.  Fighting his way into a hit and run that put the runner on third.  As a result of that fighting and that hit, the Red Sox got to play from strength for most of that ballgame.  They never trailed.  That's experience.  That's big time at bats in big time moments.  That's what this Boston Red Sox baseball team is all about.

Need more?  Enter the new Sandman.  Enter Jonathon Papelbon.  Through four games of these here playoffs, Pap still hadn't allowed a postseason run.  Not one.  Not now.  Not in his career.  Not ever.  Not one run.  Yowza! 

What aabout the feelest goodest story of the year?  What about the new Ace?  Huh?  What about him?  Ace is the place with the helpful hardware.  No one's been more helpful than Jon Lester.  The winning pitcher in last year's final game of the World Series has been nothing short of lights-out in his first two starts of this year's postseason. 

Then there's Gold Glove everybaseman. Then there's Maude.  Then there's Kevin Youkilis.  The Greek God of Walks.  Youk has been piling up highlight reel after highlight reel.   Web Gem after Web Gem.   Hello, I glove you, won't you tell me your name.

And... And, and, and...    And, even though I didn't like the way Boom Boom Beckett looked in Game Three, I'll still take the biggest big game pitcher I've ever seen.  The biggest big game pitcher there's ever been.  Bigger than James Dean.

Lastest, and far from leastest, my two favorite words in the Spanish dictionary.  Papi Grande.   The biggest baddest postseason player in these playoffs.  When all has been said and done it's usually Papi done doing the saying and the doing.  Do the dew!  It's been Papi putting the fear of god into opposing pitchers.  Knox Washington style.  And don't bother me about his wrist.  'Cause it sure ain't bothering him.   During the AL Division Series vs. the Angels, his ability to turn on a pitch and pull it sharply was clearly evident.  You know what that spells?  Sure you do.  That spells bad news for the Rays.

So you can take your kids.  Your Evan Longoria.  Your lollygagging BJ Upton.  Your not as good as he used to be, Scott Kazmir.  You can pack them up in your old kit bag while I smile, smile, smile.  Roll Sox, roll!

Public Acknowledgements:  Jed Clampett, Candyman, Maxwell House, Henny Youngman, Bea Arthur, the Doors, Rounders and Spike Jones

Public Spectacle:

Peace out homies.  Six Two and Even!

Stat of the day, who will it be?  Your vote will hold the key. It's up to you.  Tell us who, will be stat of the day.  -Community Auditions

Stat of the Day:  The Energizer Bunny.  Tyler Kennedy.  Tyler Kennedy scored at the forty-second mark for the Penguins in their season-opening overtime win over the Senators in Stockholm, Sweden.  Big deal you say?  Who cares you say?  I say, it was the fastest goal from the start of a season in Penguins' history.  Faster than a speeding bullet.  Faster than Jaromir Jagr.  Faster than Kevin Stevens.  And yes, faster than Super Mario himself.  Previously, Mario was the only Penguins player to score a goal in the first minute of their season opener.

But hold on folks!  Don't touch that dial!  There's more.  Kennedy then scored the game-winner at 4:35 of overtime.  Big deal you say?  Who cares you say?  I say, since the NHL instituted the 5:00 overtime period in 1983-84, only two other players scored a goal in the first minute of the first period and the last minute of overtime in the same game.  Just the North Stars' Dino Ciccarelli and the Sabres' Ales Kotalik.  Pretty, pretty, pretty good. 

Public Spectacle:  I know this has nothing to do with the stat except that I mentioned Kevin Stevens' name.  I don't care.  It cracks me up every time I watch it. 

Peace out homies.  Six two and Even!

You'd better stop. Put on a kind face.  Between a rock and a hard place.  -Rolling Stones

Public Service Announcement:  Ok, here we go!  What's a Red Sox fan to do?  I have tickets for Game Four.  At Fenway.  The Sox are poised to sweep today.  Sweep the leg, Johnny.  The Angels are doing nothing to make me think they can prevent this.  You know what I mean.  They're gone, and we couldn't do nothing about it.  They have now lost nine consecutive postseason games, dating back to 2005.  That ties Texas for the longest current postseason losing streak for any major-league team.  So what do I do?  Do I do the unthinkable and root for my Game Four?  Do I root for the sweep, thus preventing me from seeing my team clinch; live up close and in technicolor?  99 problems and a bitch ain't one.  It could be worse, I suppose.  I could be a Yankees fan.  Ha ha ha!  Roll Sox, roll!

Public Spectacle:

Peace out homies.  Six two and even!

CC Sabathia Is No John Smoltz By: josh q. public on: Saturday, October 4, 2008

I can see whomever I choose.  I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant.  But nothing, I said nothing, can take away these blues.  'Cause nothing compares, nothing compares to you.  -Sinead O'Conner

Public Service Announcement:  Ok, here we go!  First thing's first.  I love CC Sabathia.  I would love to see him in a Red Sox uniform next year.  I saw saw what he had done.  I saw his heroics down the stretch.   I saw him breathe life into a breathless Brewers team.  'Cause when you call my name, you know I burn like a wooden flame.  You leave me ahhhhhh breathlessah!  Left Milwaukee fans ahhh breathlessah.  Left them breathlessah by single-handedly getting the Brewers into their first postseason in twenty-six years.  Left them breathlessah making four consecutive starts on short rest including one post-season appearance.  I saw all that.  I did.  But I've also seen John Smoltz.  Senator, I served with John Smoltz.  I knew John Smoltz.  John Smoltz was a friend of mine.  Senator, you're no John Smoltz. 

In the post-season, maybe no one's no John Smoltz.  Not Bob Gibson.  Not Curt Schilling.  Not nobody.  Not in 1992.  Sherman, set the way back machine.  In 1992, John Andrew Smoltz was everything an ace is supposed to be.  Maybe CC did make four consecutive starts on short rest including one post-season appearance.  Good for him.  MVP?  Cy Young?  President of the United States of America?  I could live with that.  But in 1992, John Smoltz did him better. 

In 1992, Smoltz made five consecutive post-season starts all on short rest.  Won three of them on short rest.  A 2.67 ERA on short rest.  NLCS MVP on short rest.  NLCS MVP despite being withered by the flu.  NLCS MVP by shutting down Pittsburgh's formidable left-handed lineup.  Down goes Bonds! Down goes Van Slyke!  No, the Bravos did not win the 1992 Word Series.  That distinction goes to the Toronto Blue Jays.  But don't blame Smoltzie.  In Game Two, he watched on after seven and one third innings of stellar work as his bullpen blew his lead.  In Game Five he faced Jack Morris.  His 1991 nemesis.  Stop calling me that, my name is Daphne!  This time, things were different.  This time, there would be no ten-inning shutout for Mount Morris.  No Most Valuable Player laurels.  This time it was John Smoltz doing the outlasting.  This time it was John Smoltz who went home a winner.   I'm gonna ask you a simple question and I want you to listen to me.  Who's the big winner here tonight at the casino?  Huh?  Smoltzie, that's who.  Smoltzie's the big winner.  Smoltzie wins.  Won in his fifth consecutive start on short rest.  Yowza!  Smoltz: "I've always felt I should be the one pitching in big games."   Me too Smoltzie.  Me too.

Public Acknowledgements:  Mitch Ryder, Jerry Lee Lewis, Lloyd Bentsen, Mr. Peabody, Heroes and Swingers

Public Spectacle:

Peace out homies.  Six two and Even!

They got the power, they got the speed to be the best in the National League.  Well this is the year and the Cubs are real, so come on down to Wrigley Field.  -Steve Goodman 

Public Service Announcement:  Friendly confines?  I'm not so sure.  The Cubs may have been the best team in the National League during the regular season, but they sure did look sloppy last night.  And the night before.  Lou Piniella:  The last two days, they've probably been the two worst games we've played all year."  The Cubs made four errors last night.  One from each infield position.  It's only the second time in major league history that a team had an error from each infield position in a postseason game.  The other time?  Game One of the 1934 World Series.  The Tigers had errors from Hank Greenberg (1B), Charlie Gehringer (2B), Billy Rogell (SS) and two from Marv Owen (3B).  Detroit lost the game, 8-3, to the Cardinals.  I ain't surprised.  How could I be?  The Cubs have a 7-20 postseason record at Wrigley Field.  Storied old Weeghman Park is the only venue in major-league history in which the home team has a record more than five games under .500 in the postseason.  Egads man!  You can't win a pennant like that.  You just can't.  Mr. Cub may call Wrigley the Friendly Confines.  I cannot.

Public Spectacle:

Peace out homies.  Six Two and Even!