Quick story here before we get to the Red Sox: waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back in 2004 when the Red Sox were in the ALDS versus the California/Anaheim/Los Angeles Angels, one has to remember that this was still the era of the Rally Monkey in Cali. Yes, that idiotic monkey flashing on the screen and everyone in Southern Cal all giddy over a flipping monkey hopping up and down (seriously, give me "Sweet Caroline" anyday!). So, determined to crush this rally monkey and allow the Sox a way to move past this modern-day Bonzo-led squad, I pondered the eternal question: what the heck eats monkeys anyway?
Certainly, Bucky Katt from Get Fuzzy qualified, but with five cats at the time, none of them were quite "monkey killers". Therefore, I decided it had to be a weasel that would kill and eat a monkey (whether this is true or not, I have no idea nor the inclination to Google it, but it would be one hell of fight as I imagine it!). So, watching the Sox on the telly while sitting in the old condo (where we were back in the days--oh, how I miss not having to mow the lawn--but I digress) I turned to the wifey and said: "we need a rally weasel to combat this idiotic rally monkey against the Angels."
Immediately after, she turns to Hal IV (then about 3 years old) and says: "Bear, we need a rally weasel about right now!" Immedidately, he starts running around in a circle as fast as he can and shouting at the top of his lungs: "RAL-LY WEAS-EL, RAL-LY WEAS-EL, RAL-LY WEAS-EL, RAL-LY WEAS-EL, RAL-LY WEAS-EL, RAL-LY WEAS-EL!"
After that, well, it was obvious that the Angels and their hideous, filthy monkey were history.
* * *
OK, onto game three, which will probably start around 7:30/8pm since it is at Fenway and may end before midnight so there remains a chance I can stay awake for it. I was fading in and out of game two, and barely remembered what I saw. By the time I woke-up, I had no memory of whether they had won or not, and strangely remembered Jonathan Papelbon turning into a Volkswagon Bug, which I was pretty sure was a dream. Finally, checking ESPN the next morning, I was pleasantly pleased to see that whatever I had dreamt was fantasy and the Sox had won (I was convinced the J.D. Drew homer was something a J.D. Drew homer like me could only dream-up).
Now, waiting for game three has me feeling that twinge in my stomach (oh wait, that is from watching Matt Cassel quarterback the Patriots). I love having Josh Beckett pitching game three, but I worry about a strained oblique muscle hampering his power on the mound. Mike Lowell's and J.D. Drew's health are serious issues also. With Youkilis and Pedrioa slumping, can the rest of the line-up continue to produce for the Sox? Will the two-out magic continue in game three?
One thing I know for sure, the Rally Weasel will be on hand with me to cheer on the Sox.
Certainly, Bucky Katt from Get Fuzzy qualified, but with five cats at the time, none of them were quite "monkey killers". Therefore, I decided it had to be a weasel that would kill and eat a monkey (whether this is true or not, I have no idea nor the inclination to Google it, but it would be one hell of fight as I imagine it!). So, watching the Sox on the telly while sitting in the old condo (where we were back in the days--oh, how I miss not having to mow the lawn--but I digress) I turned to the wifey and said: "we need a rally weasel to combat this idiotic rally monkey against the Angels."
Immediately after, she turns to Hal IV (then about 3 years old) and says: "Bear, we need a rally weasel about right now!" Immedidately, he starts running around in a circle as fast as he can and shouting at the top of his lungs: "RAL-LY WEAS-EL, RAL-LY WEAS-EL, RAL-LY WEAS-EL, RAL-LY WEAS-EL, RAL-LY WEAS-EL, RAL-LY WEAS-EL!"
After that, well, it was obvious that the Angels and their hideous, filthy monkey were history.
* * *
OK, onto game three, which will probably start around 7:30/8pm since it is at Fenway and may end before midnight so there remains a chance I can stay awake for it. I was fading in and out of game two, and barely remembered what I saw. By the time I woke-up, I had no memory of whether they had won or not, and strangely remembered Jonathan Papelbon turning into a Volkswagon Bug, which I was pretty sure was a dream. Finally, checking ESPN the next morning, I was pleasantly pleased to see that whatever I had dreamt was fantasy and the Sox had won (I was convinced the J.D. Drew homer was something a J.D. Drew homer like me could only dream-up).
Now, waiting for game three has me feeling that twinge in my stomach (oh wait, that is from watching Matt Cassel quarterback the Patriots). I love having Josh Beckett pitching game three, but I worry about a strained oblique muscle hampering his power on the mound. Mike Lowell's and J.D. Drew's health are serious issues also. With Youkilis and Pedrioa slumping, can the rest of the line-up continue to produce for the Sox? Will the two-out magic continue in game three?
One thing I know for sure, the Rally Weasel will be on hand with me to cheer on the Sox.
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