Don’t give up ‘cos you have friends.  Don’t give up, you’re not beaten yet.  Don’t give up, I know you can make it good.  -Peter Gabriel

Public Service Announcement:  Ok, here we go!  That one hurt.  That one was an attention grabber.  That one was a statement maker.  Back to back bombs in the first inning will do that to you.  Not just any back to back bombs, but Carlos Pena and Evan Longoria now join Hall of Famers Tony Perez and Johnny Bench as the only players to hit back-to-back home runs in the first inning of a League Championship Series.  Yowza!  That’s saying something.  That’s saying a lot. 

These young Rays have had a lot to say this series.  Nine days after his 23rd birthday, Evan Longoria became the youngest player in major-league history to hit five career home runs in the postseason.  Teammate BJ Upton became the 4th youngest to do the same thing.  With three bombs in Game two, four in Game four and another three last night, the Rays became the first team ever to hit at least three bombs in each of three consecutive postseason games.  Ever.  Holy Cow!  So as much yipping and yapping I’ve been doing; saying history favors the Sox, these Rays have been making history of their own.  Like the second-longest errorless streak for any team during one postseason.  Just three games shy of the record set by the Cardinals in 2004.  That’s how you win championships.  I’m not going all Roberto Duran yet, but the Sox have their work cut out for them.

Just so you know, in major-league history, there have been sixty-six previous instances of teams taking a three-games-to-one lead in a postseason series.  Eleven of those teams came back to win the series.  Last year it was the beloved Dustin Pedroia who brought the adoring Fenway Faithful to its feet in Game Seven with a seventh-inning two-run jack off Cleveland Indians reliever Rafael Betancourt, who had been magnificent in the regular season and absolutely invincible in the playoffs. During the 2004 ALCS, Bob Ryan wrote, “They are down, 3-0, after last night’s 19-8 rout, and, in this sport, that is an official death sentence.  Soon it will be over, and we will spend another dreary winter lamenting this and lamenting that.”  That was before Joe Buck said; “Damon hits it in the air to right field.  Sheffield back, in the corner, AT THE WALL, A GRAND SLAM!  Johnny Damon and the Red Sox have blown it open early!”

I know things look grim Sox Fans, but if anybody can overcome, all the way to a World Series championship, it’s these Boston Red Sox.   It all starts with Daisuke Matsuzaka Thursday.   He’s delightful, he’s delicious, he’s delectable, he’s delirious, he’s de limit, he’s deluxe, he’s de-lovely, he’s D-Nice although he hates to admit it, he’s taking out you suckers and you don’t know how he did it.  Roll Sox, roll!

Peace out homies.  Six Two and Even!

I’ve been beat up.  I’ve been thrown out; but I’m not down.  I’m not down.  I’ve been shown up; but I’ve grown up.  And I’m not down.  I’m not down.  -Clash

Public Service Announcement:  ok, here we go!  I know.  I know what I said.  I said, “There aren’t a lot of sure bets in baseball, but you can bet your bippy Jon Lester at Fenway Park is one of them.”  Can you blame me?  Taking the loss last night, Jon Lester ended the Red Sox starting pitchers’ nine-game winning streak.  Jon Lester ended the fifth-longest winning streak by a team’s starters in postseason history.  I was just going with history.

And history is why I’m still not worried.  I haven’t heard no fat lady singing yet.  This thing is far from over.  Nothing is over until we decide it is!  Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?  Hell no!  Was it over when the Yankees’ offense erupted in the highest-scoring game in League Championship Series history to take a commanding 3-0 lead back in ‘04?  Hell no!  Was it over when veteran Sox starter Tim Wakefield was routed in a seven-run fifth inning to allow the Cleveland Indians to take a commanding 3-1 lead in the ALCS last year?  Hell no!

So why do folks think it’s over now?  To these guys?  To this team who is one of only four active teams never to have even sniffed a World Series.  That’s why I’m going with my guys.  That’s why I’m going with the reigning Champeens of the World.  That’s why I’m going with having been there.  Having done that.  That’s why I’m going with one very scary baseball team in the postseason.  The never say die Red Sox.  The punch you in your eye Red Sox.  The when pigs fly Red Sox.  That’s why I’m still not worried.

Public Spectacle:

Peace out homies.  Six two and Even!

They call me Mr. Dynamite.  I blow things up in black and white.  Do you remember Mr. Dynamite?  He blew things up in black and white.  -Iggy Pop

Public Service Announcement:  Ok, here we go!  Little Reggie Golden Shoes.  He’s all growns up and he’s all growns up and he’s growns up.  You can say he’s not a feature back.  You can say you don’t think he was worthy to be a top pick in the NFL Draft.  You can do whatever you want.  But know this.  Reggie Bush is a football player.  A very special football player.

When Bear Bryant was coaching the Alabama Crimson Tide, good ‘ole Bear brought a young USC fullback, Sam Bam Cunningham, into the Tide locker room.  Bear Bryant brought Sam into the lily-white Alabama locker room after he ran roughshod all up and down Denny Field.  Legend has it, Sam Cunningham did more to integrate Alabama in sixty minutes that day, than Martin Luther King was able to do in twenty years.  Legend has it, in that locker room, Coach Bear Bryant said to his team of Mr. Cunningham, “This is what a football player looks like.”  Reggie Bush may not have done much for civil rights in this country, but he is indeed what a football player looks like.   

Reggie Bush looked like football player yesterday.  Has all year.  Caught his 200th pass yesterday.  No other running back has ever had 200 career catches in his first thirty-four games.  Not Keith Byars.  Not Larry Centers.  Not Marshall Faulk.  Not anyone.  Not ever.  Reggie Bush caught his 200th career pass in what has become for him, just another day at the rock quarry.  Just another seventy-five all-purpose yard day, bringing two to the hizzy, as the New Orleans Saints hammered the Oakland Raiders in the Superdome.  Bush:  “I expect to make plays when I get a chance.  So, as long as those opportunities keep coming, I’m going to continue to make plays.”  That’s what a football looks like.  Yabba Dabba Doo!  

Public Spectacle:

Peace out homies.  Six Two and Even!

Well, its been building up inside of me for oh I don’t know how long.  I don’t know why, but I keep thinking something’s bound to go wrong.  But she looks in my eyes and makes me realize and she says, don’t worry baby.  Don’t worry baby.  -Beach Boys

Public Service Announcement:  Ok, here we go!  And here they come.  Here come all the Tampa Bay fans.  Or should I say, here come all the fans of teams who don’t have a horse in this race.  All the fans of teams who don’t have a horse in this race are marching in the Ray Parade Pride.  I don’t care.  Let ‘em march.  Let ‘em march the Bataan Death March.  It’s their own damn funeral.

I know what happened last night.  I saw what happened last night.  Saw what happened to this generation’s Bob Gibson.  All I know is, Boom Boom Beckett won all four of his playoff starts to lead the Red Sox to the World Series title last season.  All I know is, Boom Boom Beckett entered this October with a 6-2 record and 1.73 earned run average in ten career postseason games.  All I know is, Boom Boom Beckett still gets to toe the rubber.  Bad oblique or no bad oblique, I still take my chances with Beckett.  Give him another injection of painkiller.  Give him some more of that anti-inflammatory medication.  Put the rock in his hand and trot him out there.  And ye without sin cast the first stone.  Evan Longoria:  “He’s tough.  He battles.  Whether he has his best stuff or not, he goes out and gives a solid effort.  You could just see it in his eyes: He didn’t want to come out; he’s such a competitor.”

Even with Beckett’s sub-par performance, the Sox took this game to extras.  On the road.  They smashed four bombs deep into the St. Petersburg night.  Three bombs in one inning.  Yowza!  Two bombs by Dustin Pedroia.  Get the papers, get the papers.  Todd Walker who?  The Rays should consider themselves lucky Boom Boom didn’t have his good kung-fu.  Very lucky indeed. 

So now the Rays come to Boston.  Now the Rays come to Fenway.  Now the Rays come to Fenway Park in Boston to face the best pitcher in this here postseason.  There aren’t a lot of sure bets in baseball, but you can bet your bippy Jon Lester at Fenway Park is one of them.  Jon Lester, the very bester.  The pound your chester.  The bulletproof vester.  Bulletproof at Fenway Park.  11-1 with a 2.49 ERA in seventeen starts at Fenway Park this year.  Against the Angels, Lester did not allow an earned run in fourteen innings.  Not one.  The most innings for any pitcher in any Division Series.  Goodness!  You know what that spells?  Sure you do.  Bad news for the Rays.

Then it’s Dice-K.  He’s delightful, he’s delicious, he’s delectable, he’s delirious, he’s de limit, he’s deluxe, he’s de-lovely, he’s D-Nice although he hates to admit it, he’s taking out you suckers and you don’t know how he did it.  And after he does it, the Rays are down 3-1.  So yes, Boom Boom Beckett lost a bad one, but I’ll take 3-1.  Wouldn’t you?  What, me worry?  Roll Sox roll!

Peace out homies.  Six Two and Even!

We interrupt this Red Sox broadcast to bring you a little Boston Celtics basketball. A very little. Just enough so you know that I’m paying attention. I know it’s early. I know we’re only three games into this preseason. I know. I don’t care. I’m really starting to like this Big Bill Walker character:

But what makes me like him even more, is this:

Peace out homies. Six two and Even!

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 #### 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!

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!

Ace in the hole, lean on me.  Don’t you know me?  I’m your guarantee.  -Paul Simon

Public Service Announcement:  Ok, here we go!  Woo doggie!  Just a quick one today.  Gotta speak loudly and smash you with a big stick one today.  Jason Bay smashed John Lackey and the Angels with a big stick.  Manny who?  But as big as that bomb was last night, that wasn’t the story.

This was the story.  Boom Boom Beckett pushed back to Game Three.  Turn back Gulliver, we’ll never make it.  Thing is, no one told Jon Lester.  No one told last year’s World Series-clinching pitcher.  No one told last month’s Pitcher of the Month.  No one told the best left-handed pitcher we’ve seen in these parts since Bruce Hurst.  Just so you know, this year, Lester became the first Red Sox lefty to win at least sixteen games since Bruce Hurst accomplished the feat in 1988.  He also became the first Sox lefty to top 200 innings pitched since Frankie Viola in 1992.  Pretty, pretty, pretty good.

So, Jon Lester now has won a regular-season no-hitter.  Jon Lester now has won the final game of a World Series.  Jon Lester now has won the opening game of a postseason series.  Big deal you say?  Who cares you say?  I say, only one other pitcher in major-league history has done all of that before the age of twenty-five.  Just one.  Just Smoky Joe Wood.  And that was nearly 100 years ago.  Yowza! 

With seven innings of work last night, Jon Lester showed the world what Red Sox fans have been whispering for a while now.   With seven innings of work last night in which he allowed just one meager unearned run, Lester showed the world that he is the ace of the Boston Red Sox.  Has been all year.  Lester only seemed to get stronger as last night’s game wore on.  He was still hitting 95-97 mph on the gun in the seventh.  His nasty Uncle Charlie was utterly disgusting.  Terry Francona:  “He came with a vengeance.”  Yes he did, Tony.  Yes he did.  But isn’t that what you expect out of your ace?

Public Spectacle:

Peace out homies.  Six two and even!

Stay away from my window.  Stay away from my back door too.  Disconnect the telephone line.  Relax baby and draw that blind.  Tonight’s the night.  -Rod Stewart

Public Service Announcements:  Ok, here we go!  You want answers?  You think you’re entitled?  You want answers?  Like my main man Carnac the Magnificent always says, “May a nearsighted sand flea suck syrup off your short stack.”  I’m not usually one for predictions.  I’m no Usutu, but all the cool kids are doing it. 

Will the Cubbies really choke the goat and win a World Series for the first time in 100 years?  Or, will Joe Torre give the Yankees the ultimate kick in the head and take the ultimate prize?  We all know how big one ex-Red Sox has been for Dem Bums, but know this sports fans, Game One starter Derek Lowe has been lights out.  A 0.94 ERA in his last nine starts.  A proven big game pitcher.  Pitching wins championships!  Chad Billingsley has become one of the most underrated pitchers in the game one strikeout at a time.  So, you can go with the feel good Cubs, I’m going with Torre and the Dodgers.

Will my beloved Red Sox repeat without my boy Man-Ram?  Or, after steamrolling to the best record in the majors, will the Angels steamroll their way through the post season?  You say the Angels were 8-1 against the Red Sox this season.  I say, the Red Sox have won nine straight playoff games against the Angels dating back to 1986.  I say Red Sox in four.  And not for nothing, I have tickets for that game.  Roll Sox, roll!

Can the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, one of four active teams to never have played in a World Series really take the holiest of holies?  Or, after winning an unprecedented three games in three days against three different teams, can the Go-Go Sox really win three more series for the ring?  The White Sox have eight players with thirteen or more bombs and six with twenty or more.  The White Sox have been there.  The White Sox have done that.  The White Sox have two of the all-time greats in Ken Griffey Jr. and Jim Thome.  The White Sox take this thing.  Experience or change?  You decide.

Is CC Sabathia really enough?  Or, can Ryan Howard, Chase Utley and Brad Lidge really do only what Pete Rose, Mike Schmidt and Tug McGraw done did for the City of Brotherly Love?  Really?  Brewers don’t stand a chance.  Not a chance.

Public Spectacle:

Peace out homies.  Six two and Even!

The tip’s get clocked, baby.  The bond’s get stocked.  My style gets rocked.  Just like doors get knocked  with legendary status like my name’s Lou Brock.  -Everlast

Public Service Announcement:  Ok, here we go!  What’s crack-a-lacking sports fans?  Another regular season in the books, another shot at the title for my beloved Red Sox.  Top ‘o the world!  Big Ticket style. I live for this.  Wooo doggie!  Like my main man Joey D always says:  “You look forward to it like a birthday party when you’re a kid.  You think something wonderful is going to happen.”  Jacoby Ellsbury is making it happen.

I love the base stealers.   I loved Lou Brock.  Put you in shock.  Stealing bases around the clock.  A virtuoso like my main man Johann Sebastian Bach.  I loved Rock Raines.  I loved Willie Wilson.  Looking good in those baby blues.  Faster than Deja Vu.  I loved Firecracker Vince Coleman.  I loved Rickey Henderson.  Probably the best lead-off hitter I’ve ever seen.  The best base stealer there’s ever been.  And I love Jacoby Ellsbury.  Jacoby Ellsbury, the American League stolen base king.  Long live the king!

Attention please, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to Fenway Park.  Now leading off, Ellsbury, center field, Ellsbury.  There hasn’t been this much excitement on the basepaths around here since 1973.  Since Tommy Harper.  Tommy Harper may never have been allowed to join the Elks, but in 1973, he led the American League and set the Red Sox single season stolen base record with fifty-four.  Jacoby Ellsbury didn’t break Tommy’s record but he came close.  Real close.  The first Red Sox stolen base leader in twenty-five years ain’t too shabby.  Neither is being one of only three Red Sox to record 50 steals.  Tommy Harper (54 in 1973) and Tris the Grey Eagle Speaker (52 in 1912).  Otis Nixon never did it.  Harry Hooper never did it.  And neither did good ole fightin’ Patsy Dougherty.  Not bad ‘tall. 

Woody Allen:  “When we played softball, I’d steal second base, feel guilty and go back.”  That ain’t Jacoby’s problem.  Jacoby is stealing his way toward the World Series.  Stealing his way into our hearts.  His fifty steals far surpassed the Sox’ 100-year-old rookie single-season record.  Far surpassed.  He didn’t break Kenny Lofton’s American League single-season rookie record of sixty-six he set with the Tribe back in 1992 but he sure made it fun. 

Joe Morgan once said:  “A good base stealer should make the whole infield jumpy.”   Ellsbury is making infields jumpy.  When Ellsbury scores a run, Boston is 51-17.  Yowza!  Elllsbury is turning Boston into the new Go-Go Sox.  The Go-Go Red Sox.  Go-Go Gophers.  Watch’em go go go.  Watch the Red Sox go.  The Red Sox are going like they’ve never gone before.  This season they tied a club record with six steals in one game.  Their total of 119 steals pits them in third place in the AL.  When was the last time a Red Sox team could say that?  But, make no mistakes about it, Ellsbury has been the straw stirring that drink. 

Jacoby Ellsbury leads all rookies in runs scored, hits, stolen bases and triples and has a pretty, pretty good average.  He’s played all three outfield positions and played them well.  Rookie of the Year?  I’m just saying.

Public Spectacle:

Peace out Mets.  Six Two and even!

 

I am, I am Superman, and I can do anything.  -REM

Public Service Announcement:  Ok, here we go!  It’s back.  Heroes is back.  I know the Round Mound said athletes aren’t role models, but he never said anything about being heroes. I  had to do this one.  Like I always knew this one.  I  had to pay homage to one of my favorite TV shows not called Dexter or the Shield.  So, awaaaaaay we go: If Athletes Were Heroes:

1.  Hiro Nakamura:  Able to bend space and time.  Has to be The Great One.  Blessed be he.  Wayne Gretzky.   How else can you explain what this guy’s done did?  Again and again and again.  He must have stopped the old clock.  I mean how’s this little dude skating by, around and through folks.  Just deeking dudes like Tom Brady to Brian Urlacher.  His name is in the record books sixty-one times.  Sixty-one!  No one could stop him.  Ever.  Like they were standing still.  Like they were stopped in time.

2.  Claire Bennet:  The cutest little cheerleader you ever did see.  Save the cheerleader.  Save the world!  My boy Chompers is in love.  Is that wrong?  Claire Bear has the ability to regenerate.  Any wound, any injury, she recuperates.  Has to be Ted Stroehmann’s boy Brett Favre.  Takes a licking and just keeps on ticking.  The Packers starting QB since 1992 and now with the J-E-T-S, Bretts, Bretts, Bretts.   He has not missed one game.  Not one, I tell you.  Holds the NFL quarterback record for consecutive starts with 256 (278 total starts including playoffs).  Yowza!  Makes Cal look like a slacker.  I mean football’s a man’s game.  Takes a hero to start 278 straight games at QB.  Or a lot of pain killers.  But who am I to judge?

3.  Sylar:  Sylar has the ability to do it all.  You guessed it.  Vincent Edward Jackson.  Huh?  Who?  Bo knows heroes.  That’s who.  All-Star in football.  All-Star in baseball.  The best Tecmo player ever created.  Is there nothing this cat couldn’t do?  Homerun in the MLB All-Star game.  The only football player with two touchdown runs over 90 yards.  Bo Jackson had more abolities than anyone I ever saw.  Anyone.

4.  Nathan Petrelli:  Flyboy.  Who else?  His Airness.  Michael Jeffery Jordan.  Need I say more?  I thought not.

5.  Peter Petrelli:  The leech.  Will style.  Sucking powers off of those around him.  MJ’s boy.  Scottie Pippen.  He only had powers when Jump Man was near.  His powerless appearances in Houston and Portland proved as much.

6.  Tracy Strauss:  Is it Jessica?  Is is Niki Sanders.  For now, we do not now.  For now, she’s Mrs. White Christmas, She’s Mrs Snow.  She’s Mrs. Icicle, she’s Mrs. Ten Below.  Friends call her Snow Miser, whatever she touches turns to snow in her clutches…She’s too muches!  Johan Santana.  Just leaving batters frozen.

7.  Nuclear Ted:  He’s radioactive.  The Firm style.  Super duper power.  Has no idea how to control it.  Leaving body bag after body bag in his wake.  Michael Tyson.  The original Dynamite Kid.  If that cat could have contained his super power, he would have been the Heavyweight Champion of the World for a very long time.  He could not.  He became a pariah.  Much like our boy Nuclear Ted.

8.  Matt Parkman.  The mind reading cop.  Did you think this guy wasn’t making it?  C’mon.  Larry Legend.  He knew what you were going to do before you did it.  Every single time.  He knew what you were going to do, and he exploited you.  Made you feel all broke like. 

9.  Isaac Mendez:  The kooky artist who paints the future.  But only when he’s all hepped on smack.  Easy, right?  No brainer, right?  Dock Ellis, right?  The only time he was any good, he was all hepped up on LSD.  Pitched a no-hitter on acid.  Dock:  “The ball was small sometimes, the ball was large sometimes, sometimes I saw the catcher, sometimes I didn’t.  Sometimes I tried to stare the hitter down and throw while I was looking at him.  I remember diving out of the way of a ball I thought was a line drive.  I jumped, but the ball wasn’t hit hard and never reached me.” A true visionary.

10.  Elle:  Don’t touch me, ’cause I’m electric.  And if you touch me, you’ll get shocked.  Shocked.  Shocked.  Nobody’s more electric in the NFL right now than Brandon Marshall.  Nobody.

Peace out homies.  Six Two and Even!

 

‘Cause I, gonna make you see.  There’s nobody else here.  No one like me.  I’m special so special.  I gotta have some of your attention, give it to me.  -Pretenders

Public Service Announcement:  Ok, here we go!  Got a sad one today.  Troy Brown announced his retirement yesterday during a press conference at Gillette Stadium.  Troy Brown ended a 15-year career with the New England Patriots.  Troy Brown is my favorite football player of all time.  All time.

I just loved this cat.  Troy Fitzgerald Brown.  Loved him.  What can Brown do for you?  A whole lot.  That’s what.  Win you some football games.  That’s what.  Football players play football.  Players make plays.  Troy Brown plays football.  Troy Brown makes plays.  Troy Brown had been making plays for the New England Patriots for fifteen seasons.  Making plays like the gamebreaking punt he returned in the AFC Championship game against the Steelers.  Making plays like when as a DB, he shut down a 230-pound quarterback with a laser rocket arm in the 2004 playoffs.  Making plays like he did in Super Bowl XXXVI.  Game tied.  Pats driving.  2nd and ten.  Brown catches a Brady pass over the middle to go twenty-three yards in traffic to the Rams thirty-six and out of bounds.  You know the rest.  Making plays like when he lined up as emergency quarterback to further develop his legend.  Making plays like when he instinctively ripped the ball out of the Chargers’ Marlon McCree’s greasy little fingers to ensure victory.  That’s all this cat ever did.  Make plays.

He made plays in twenty playoff appearances.  He is the Patriot’s all-time leading receiver with 557 receptions.  He has spent his entire career with the Patriots since being drafted in the eighth round in 1993.  Drafted in the eighth round out of Marshall.  We are Marshall!  At Marshall, Brown led the NCAA Division 1-AA in both kickoff and punt return average in 1991.  His career kickoff return average still stands as an NCAA record.  So do his four kickoff returns for touchdowns.  He scored a touchdown every eight times he touched the football.  Every eight times.  Hear that Ted Sarandis?  Yowza!  At Marshall, Brown claimed the Thundering Herd its first National Championship with him as its primary wide receiver and returner.  From the ashes we rose!  Troy Brown rose.  He rose in the championship game.  Playing both sides of the ball.  Gordie Lockbaum style.  In the championship game, Brown sealed the deal by intercepting a Hail Mary pass in the waning seconds of the game against a Jim Tressel coached Youngstown State team. 

This measly little piece does not do Troy Brown justice.  It does not, cannot, display what Troy Brown has meant to the Patriots and a generation of Patriots fans and most of all, to me.  How truly special he really was.  What he represented.  Charles Barkley may not want to be your role model, but Troy Brown was a role model to us all.

Peace out homies.  Six two and Even!