Friday, May 20, 2005


I have been nursing a horrid head cold, and am drugged up on Contact, Dayquil, and all those lovely decongestant, expectorant, pain relievers that do absolutely nothing to make me feel like getting work done, so how I can I logically expect to write anything relevant, coherent, or logical in this state? What? I do not write anything logical, relevant or coherent to begin with? Well, that is a relief. I will now go back to listening to that little voice in my head that sounds like Denis Leary shouting out vulgar phrases about NyQuil.

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Fortunately, the Red Sox have an off day, which everyone needs to recover form the disaster that was the escape game from the West Coast. The good news is that the Sox are home for three games: the bad news is that they are against Atlanta, who historically beat the Sox to a pulp. My theory always was that Jimy Williams and Grady Little got so excited talking to a good old boy pal like Braves manager Bobby Cox that they reverted back to their drawl and for the next couple of games the team and coaches had no idea what they were talking about.

Or it could just be that the Braves are a consistently very good team.

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So the NBA is prepping for a big lockout. Oh no, no hockey, no basketball. Whatever shall we poor sports deprived fans do? Umm, right. As long as baseball and football keep chugging along, I could care less if the NBA players play or not. The Celtics did not capture our imagination that fully did they?

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It is interesting how Trot Nixon is hitting so well as soon as there is news about his knee being messed up and needing surgery. I know from my glorious Little League, Babe Ruth League, High School, and Softball career (want to hear the highlights of my great play? Come on, it will only take two seconds!), that some of my best games were when I was sick or injured. Not to compare Trot Nixon to Larry Bird or Michael Jordon, but I remember those guys having huge games while sick or injured. Sometimes the illness or injury may just make them focus that much more, or the opposite and make them relax and figure that anything they do is frosting on the cake since no one expects much, and it allows them to play loose and have a good game.

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6-0-1. Is it time to jump on the New England Revolution bandwagon yet? I am soooooooooo ready. Saturday morning soccer at 8AM with my three year old son just does wonders for the appreciation of soccer. Of course, with the fanatical soccer dads I see every weekend running their three-year-olds through drills like a general at reveille before practice, how is it that this target audience is not a season ticket holder for the Revs? I can just see them at the games shouting at their poor kids, Look at Clint Dempsey, do you see him crying when he does not get a goal?

God, smite me down the day I turn into one of those parents.

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