5.02.2006

Dear Doug Mirabelli: I'm not a True Red Sox Fan.

I'm not really a real, real Red Sox fan. I said it so you don't have to. At one time, I was. And it was before they won it all, when they weren't playoff contenders. But I've gotten sort of bored with them since then, bored with their ubiquitousness and overmarketed presence and Red Sox Nation and the unceasing flood of merch.

So, yeah, I'm not a True Red Sox Fan. I hear it all the time and I'm cool with it.

So why do I write about them so much? Because I can't ever truly extinguish the obsession. Because of my fierce, undying love for Trot Nixon and Mike Timlin and David Ortiz and Tim Wakefield. Because even though I KNEW it was for the best, I cried a little when I heard Shea was traded for BK Kim. Because I got my heart broken in '03 when in spite of shaving their heads, the Red Sox couldn't get past New York. Because of Pedro. Because of shitty beer in plastic bottles at City of Palms Park.

Because I get giddy when I hear THE FUCKING BACK-UP CATCHER IS RETURNING TO LAY THE SMACK DOWN ON THE KNUCKLEBALL.

Everyone knows that Dougie is secretly an asshole. Sean McAdam mentioned the other day that he was not one of Tito's favorites because he was kind of "too big for his britches". But this is a man who seizes the ash with his bare hands and hits bombs when the call arises.

Hell, yeah, I watched the game last night. I was couch-ridden and medicated and drifting in and out of consciousness and when the game was tied, I headed off for bed. But I came back. I couldn't miss it. And I'm so glad I didn't. This game's been coming in epochal increments since Opening Day. Like a luxury liner keeping its date with an iceberg, it came.

I wouldn't have booed John Damon, though. The Kinks say 'Give the people what they want'. The bible says "Thou Shalt Not Horn in on Thy Neighbor's Racket". JS and Baby say, "You were right, Johnny! You can't win no matter what you do!"

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