Pitcher woes

It was either my sophomore of junior year of high school. Game day, and I was scheduled to take the mound that afternoon.

It was a big game for my little team. We were playing one of our rivals -- not The Rivals, but a team with which we had a decidedly competitive history. I was fired up and ready to go.

In science (it was either chem or bio, can't recall which), we were working on display boards outlining the projects on which we'd been laboring for the previous week and a half. I knelt on the ground, cutting cardboard with an Exactoknife, when the blade slipped.

I sliced my right middle finger. And while it hurt, and while I bled, my anger had nothing to do with the pain.

There was no way I could take the mound. Just like that. One quick little cut, and I wasn't getting the start.

According to reports, Josh Beckett is facing the same situation right now. Not that he had a mishap with a science project -- but there's a cut on his middle finger.

We hear about a lot of questionable injuries that land baseball players on the bench. So and So sprained his toe after running into a doorframe (oh wait. I've done that too). Another has a bruised muscle. Another hit his wrist against a kitchen counter and is out for eight days.

For many, a cut on a finger registers as just as silly. Wait. You got a papercut, and now you can't start a game. What the hell is that, Beckett? Wuss.

All I know is that when that afternoon arrived and I took my place at first base, whenever the opposing team reached base, the girls looked at me between pitches.

"I thought you were supposed to pitch today."

I'd extend my right hand, showing the bandage on my finger that rendered it impossible to grip the ball for a fastball, let alone a changeup or curve.

"Cut my finger today. Can't pitch for a few days."

Lame? Yes.

But much more valid than, say, a possible, sure-if-you-squint-your-eyes-and-turn-your-head hamstring injury...

Always look on the bright side of life

"Hey, let's look at the silver lining here." I leaned back, resting the back of my neck against the back of my chair. "Now we have, what, six weeks of enjoying baseball for the sheer love of the game."

Laughter and commiseration mingled in response. I spun the chair around.

"I mean, no need to worry about completely unnecessary things. Like, say, winning or even playing well. Who needs a high-fallutin' POSTSEASON, anyway? Ball going to get away from you? Dive! Somersault! Do a split! You've got nothin' to lose! There really is no tomorrow! You're gonna have months to recuperate!"

It hurts. The dull ache of the olden (read: pre-2004) days, mixed with a new fresh agony.

See, back then, we knew to expect something like this. It didn't matter how well the team was playing. They'd do something, and they'd make the breakdown something spectacular. One could make predictions during spring training as to what it was going to be. Offense? Defense? Bullpen? A complicated cocktail of all of the above?

But this team...as N and I lamented this weekend, this team was a well-oiled machine. Purring. And then? Implosion.

Now don't go saying it. I'm not one of those who got greedy after one little (glorious) victory parade. My hopes this season, same as any season, were simple. Postseason.

The shortlist. The invitation to keep on playing as the leaves fall and hats are pulled on above scarves. I often say my favorite season is autumn, but it's not entirely accurate: my favorite season is the Red Sox postseason.

Have I yet joined to Wilburs and Ryans and others who are saying that there is No Way In Hell that the Red Sox will make the postseason? It's the big question, the one everyone who wears a red B on their head has been asking themselves.

Not quite. I'm close, but still fighting it.

It's part of following the Red Sox to complain. You cry out and think occasionally of actually crying (and ometimes you can't help it. Yeah, that's right. I've cried over dem Sox and I ain't ashamed to admit it). You curse and then carry on insightful, informed, surprisingly statistics-driven conversations about the team, it's history and the decisions made over the course of the last season/decade/century.

(Sometimes, because you're a girl, your opinion is ignored and you're left with no choice but to school the people with whom you are speaking. AHEM.)

Even as I find myself accepting the fact that the season will most likely end on Oct. 1, I'm going to keep on watching, keep on cheering/yelling/sighing and see what happens. I have tickets to two more games this season. I might wind up with at least one more.

I intend to enjoy them.

Everyone knows that the Red Sox have a habit of surprising people. So if 99.99 percent of the fanbase expects the continuation of a meltdown...

Hey. Crazier things have happened.

That said, I found myself watching this on repeat a couple of times today. Memories...

So good, so good, so good

I've mentioned the "Sweet Caroline" thing, I'm sure. My brother or I, upon attending a Sox game, call my mother during the middle of eight for the singalong? Or the rare occasion that my mother attends a Sox game without me, during which she makes sure to return the favor? And the two occasions during which flatmates (therefore, live-in family) called to pipe some Diamond into my cell phone?

I have a number of friends who are Sox fans. I have a number of friends who attend games at Fenway.

I've never had a friend call in "Sweet Caroline" until tonight. During a YANKEES GAME, no less!

Which is why, after I laughingly sang my "Bah, bah, bah"s into the phone as the television showed commercials, I officially welcomed Nicole into the family.

Dear Mr. Sandman

Last night, I dreamt of good news.

I had settled into my desk chair to check in on my team. A quick jaunt to Boston.com to get the latest -- particualrly to see whether Eric Wilbur had yet to retract his Send In the Clowns column. A click on Sports, another on Red Sox.

The face jumped out at me, surrounded by the blonde curls. The headline was magic.

"Arroyo back home."

Bronson was back. A series of quick trades (I don't recall the other players or teams involved) that planted Arroyo back in the Boston lineup, just in time for the Nomar-spark Wilbur had written would never come this season.

Things were suddenly better. The Sox had defeated Detroit (my mother, father and uncle happily took in the game with the tickets I'd had to give up), Arroyo was to be back on the mound and the team was going to give it another shot.

I cheered out loud. Hallelujah. The fates have smiled again.

When I awoke, I settled into my desk chair to check in on my team. Boston.com. Click on Sports, click on Red Sox.

No Bronson. Instead, a photo of a monkey perched on Craig Hansen's shoulder.

I thought briefly of calling in Red Sox and returning to my dreams.

Updates.

Short sentences from a short temper. But at least it's information.

- I highly recommend checking out Intercept. California band. I like what I hear. Formerly known as Flathead, a band I've been hearing about for eons but hadn't had a chance to actually hear.

- Portions of five Averi songs were featured in the latest "Red Sox Rewind." Talk about a surprise, hearing almost half of "Drawn to Revolving Doors" while catching up on Sox news ("When You Gracefully Creep In," "Attention to Details," "Mouth Full of Sand," "Empty Pages" and "The Way We Go Out Tonight" were played). But I got to watch clips from Millar's two-homer effort (read: the one game I actually missed this season, dammit) and smile again at Sox wins while humming along with the songs. NESN managed to take two things I dig and bring 'em right together. Worked for me.

- The question posed to me numerous times today: "Catch the game last night?" Answer: "Of course I did. I'm surprised you didn't hear me cheering as soon as Ortiz made contact."

- I haven't been able to get "Stitched Up" out of my head the last two days.

- Finally saw the clip of Kanye West's anti-Bush rant. I applaud him for speaking from the heart - it was clear that he wasn't just trying to look cool with it; he was shaken and flying by the seat of his pants. Made Mike Myers look rather foolish and cold when he tried to stick to the script.

- I made banana bread last night. And yes, it is edible, thank you. Very tasty, actually. And I, er, THEY said I couldn't do anything but microwave. HA!

(Admittedly, I did have Beth in stitches as I brought my own special sense of style to it. A comedy of near-errors.)

- I'm just trying to get to Friday.

"It's like riding a bike."

I suddenly became more wary of trying things I hadn't done in a long time.

Perhaps inspired by the bicycle races whipping through the downtown today, perhaps prompted by the ever more absurd cost of gas, or perhaps because I finally realized I'm running out of time available to take advantage of it, I decided to dust off the old bike and take it for a short spin. Fill up the tires with air at the corner shop, cruise around a little bit before turning back in.

Oh my God.

I looked like I was drunk as I began. Swerve here, quick turn there - I suddenly felt too tall for a bicycle I'd purchased only two years ago. The cars passing me must have wondered what the hell my deal was as I kept putting my feet down on the ground and laughing at myself.

I made it to the store, filled up the tires and headed back, only slightly embarrassed that a car traveling behind me had to wait as I moved. I was going quickly enough - it's not my fault we're not allowed to bike on the sidewalks. Deal, brother car driver.

By the time I made it home (after a quick trip around the block to further acclimate myself), my legs were sore, my back felt strange and I remembered my adolescent fear of curbstones.

But it felt marvelous, all at the same time.

But that whole "riding a bike" analogy? Noooo siree. That doesn't work. 'Cause getting right back onto the bike to give it a ride?

It ain't that easy.
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In other news. I had traveled to a store to pick up a lock for my bike (see how it all comes together?) and was listening to the Red Sox game on the radio. As I pulled into the parking lot, I kept the radio on as I rolled up my windows. An older woman, almost certainly a grandmother, was loading purchases into the car next to me.

"Excuse me, what's the score?"

I was surprised. Pleasantly. Grandma follows her baseball! "I had just turned it on, and they hadn't announced the latest score. Last I knew, it was 3-0 Chicago."

She gave a smirk and I laughed. "I know, it's hurting me too."

The smirk got wider. "Oh no, that's not what that's for."

"Excuse me?" She stared to laugh as it dawned on me. "Please tell me you're a Chicago fan."

She let out a gleeful peal of laughter. "YAAAANKEEEES!"

I laughed. "OK, I'm going to walk away now." She grinned. "Good luck with the rest of the season and the playoffs."

"You too, dear."

The home stretch for the baseball season. Everyone hunkering in. The playful jabs among strangers who know only of each other's rival affiliations.

God, I love baseball in September.

Blondes do have more fun.

I would simply like to point out that it was my favorite Boston Red Sox player who hit not one, but two home runs to help the Sox defeat Tampa Bay tonight.

(I'll downplay the fact that I thought the game was cancelled due to rain and subsequently did not see any of it. Including the two home runs, one of which supposedly bounced off the Coke bottles ABOVE the Green Monster.)

My favorite player. Kevin Millar, ladies and gentlemen.

(Photo from ESPN.com)

while currently experiencing the fun exhausted/wired sensation derived from overall lack of sleep, i need to post about the events of yesterday and today, as they proved to be absolutely phenomenal ...

yesterday was the great boston road trip with miss elizabeth, as we were traveling to paradise to see averi - beth's introduction to the venue and my first trip there in just under a year, not to mention my first real experience with actually driving into the city (note: probably because i don't have to do it frequently, there is something i just love about driving in or around boston. probably also because i just love boston in general, but i digress). after making storrow drive my bitch (bwahahaha), we arrived at the upper end of commonwealth and made our way to t's pub, which brought back memories of paradise concerts of the past and overall warm fuzzy feelings about the city (not to mention my glee about having the red sox game projected onto a huge screen behind me, despite the fact that the sox were losing to the blue jays while we were there and, in fact, wound up losing 4-1 - boo ... ). since our timing was impeccable, we were in the club with plenty of time to spare (we actually wound up having more time than expected, as the schedule for the night was pushed back an hour - averi was originally to go on around 10:30, but when we arrived, we found that they were going to go on at 11:30 instead and, upon discovering that, we counted our lucky stars for deciding to drive into the city instead of taking the t, the last of which left north station at 12:10. it would have been "hi averi, bye averi" if we'd ridden in from beverly). after listening to missing joe, who were pretty good and were obviously having so much fun, which was great to see in an adorable they're-living-out-their-rock-star-dreams sort of way, we met up with miss michelle and waited through a set by another random band that i wasn't impressed with (the three of us agreed that attempting to channel bono is an impossible task that no one, no matter how talented, should attempt to do - covering a u2 song is one thing, but trying to BE u2 is something else entirely) before averi (which, for the record, i should make sure everyone is aware is pronounced a-ver-e, not ah-ver-e ... if you're going to try to come off like a huge fan, know the band's name, ok?) took the stage. the guys obviously were having a great time performing for the packed and highly energetic crowd - in fact, having a great time in more ways than one. not only were they incredibly excited about the crowd energy and devotion, they also were enjoying the libations provided ... a band that takes shots onstage together sticks together, right? ;-) chad proved particularly hilarious, providing a plethora of hilarious quotes for the night, including "if elivis was here, i'd tell him his daughter's a bitch!" and "mom, your son drinks like a champ!"

while the entire set was phenomenal, probably the best i've seen them play (save, of course, my show, as that will forever be my favorite averi experience - what can i say? i'm biased.), my favorite two songs were probably "flutter" and "this liminal life". while my favorite song off of "direction of motion", "flutter" was particularly amazing because i was able to participate in and experience one of my favorite types of concert moments - when a musician or band tells the audience to feel free to sing along and the audience winds up singing so loudly that the singer/singers stop singing and just accompanies instrumentally. i always love the expression on the particular musician/musicians face/faces ... the look on chad's face as the audience sang the first four lines was so full of joy - i can't even begin to imagine what an amazing sensation it must have been for him.

and then there was "this liminal life". i can't believe i didn't like the song when i first got the album - it's one of my favorites now and always a favorite when i see them live (largely because matt has the greatest facial expressions while he plays drums on that particular song). since it's the big averi "dance song", the band invited anyone interested up on stage to dance and i wound up heading up there with michelle to rock out (after being pushed towards the stage, i wound up getting her up there with me - someone who shall remain nameless - oops, i lied - BETH - chose to remain in front of the stage) with the crowd of others who wanted to move their bodies and spill their drinks on the stage while dancing around or with various members of the band (the gold star goes to the tall guy who was grinding with and pretending to spank the ass of chad). SO MUCH FUN.

anyway, the set was tight, the band was incredible and everyone seemed to have a great time. it was wonderful to hang out with beth and michelle and be the three silly, fun girls we've been known to be from time to time (hehehehehe ... debauchery). following the performance, everyone was crowding around the merch table to congratulate/request autographs from the band and i made my way over to say hi to chad and congratulate him on a great show. he was signing tons of cds, posters and whatnot and looked up to see who was next and did a major doubletake (not quite as huge as my howie doubletake back at the paradise pmb show, but a valiant effort) upon seeing me and, to my delight, recognized me in his tipsy state and gave me a huge hug and said he was happy to see me and that he'd thought he saw me earlier but didn't know if it was me and if i'd cut my hair or not. i congratulated him quickly and wished him well before letting the rest of the crowd talk to him, but it felt great to be able to get a big hug and smile and to be able to give him props for a job well done.

after a brief return to t's pub, taking on mapquest directions (honestly, who says to take a slight left when you really want to just go straight?), storrow drive, bumper-to-bumper traffic at 3 a.m. (let's give a big hand to the big dig for making it next to impossible to get to 93 north!) and a thunderstorm, we arrived in beverly safe, sound and exhausted. but because at that point we were so tired we were wired, sleep didn't occur until around 5 ... so while i woke up at 10:30 and immediately cursed myself for sleeping in too late, i quickly realized i'd only slept for five and a half hours.

after preparing for the day and thanking my grandmother and uncle for letting up crash at their house, beth and i headed to downtown beverly to meet up for lunch with andrew, a friend of mine from high school now living in the area. i hadn't seen him for about three years, so it was a fun trip down memory lane, laughing over names and faces we hadn't thought about in years and catching up on what we've all been up to. good times ...

following that, i introduced beth to richardson's dairy, my favorite ice cream place growing up, before heading back to vermont, making a quick driveby down central street in middleton to show her the first house i ever lived in. i hadn't seen the street in years - it's amazing how it looked the same yet so incredibly different ... while i have my memories of living there, it felt like a sort of twilight zone form of reality, actually seeing the house, seeing the house across the street where my friend meghan used to live painted a completely different color, seeing flowers where there was simply grass before, my red house now gray with white trim, the small bushes my parents planted now large and plush ... then realizing i haven't lived there for, what, almost eighteen years?

aaaah - and now i sit here, reflecting on the past two days, the memories birthed during the past 48 hours and the memories dug up from the past, looking at a small pile of mementos - a concert ticket, a flyer, a bumper sticker, averi's first EP (finally bought myself a copy - about time, right?) and a random cd by a female singer/songwriter they were handing out at the show. a smile on my face while "flutter" dances in my head and my bed begins to beckon to me, offering to sweep me away to the land of dreams ...

but, before i answer the call of my bed, this week's friday five, only a little late ...

1. when was the last time you cheated?
cheated at what? a game? a test? or just overall? probably a couple of days ago, when i skipped the last part of my kickboxing routine because i was tired.

2. when was the last time you stole?
i stole my brother's green day album a couple of weeks ago - he never listens to it anyway and i think it's classic. :-)

3. when was the last time you lied?
this evening, when i tried to come off like there was no twitterpation this weekend. "no, it was just good to see them - i'm not THAT silly." they called my bluff. damn my lack of ability to keep the s.k. expression off my face (of which i was reminded many, many times last night by elizabeth and michelle).

4. when was the last time you broke or vandalized another's property?
hmm ... does my brother's hair count? if so, i accidentally vandalized it a couple of weeks ago when i was trying to shave the non-mohawked parts of his hair and wound up taking off a chunk of one of his spikes ...

5. when was the last time you hurt a loved one?
last week, getting into a foolish little fight with my parents.

the whirlwind road trip adventure begins tomorrow! i'm psyched - the next few days should be great ... tomorrow afternoon, beth and i are heading to boston for averi, followed by a return to vermont saturday. perhaps a mini-roadtrip on sunday, followed by the just-offered opportunity to go back to boston on monday for the red sox/tigers game at fenway with my father and a couple of his coworkers ... whoo hoo!!!