Sex & Sox

My passions: Sex and the Boston Red Sox!


Sunday, October 17, 2004

Game 3 Log

Simmons-esque (but neither as funny nor as coherent), I kept a log last night while watching the game. Since I can't sleep and I smell like rum, I had the time to type it out at an hour that I haven't been awake for in QUITE awhile. Here it is, for your perusal.

8:15 -
Immediately preceeding Jeter's walk-off walk, the FOX announcers remind us that the Yankees are up 2-0 in the series. Thanks. I didn't know that. Assholes.

8:16 -
Manny is slow. I hate the run-Jeter, who was "sensing it, sniffing it" (man, these guys are poetic). Ass-road is on 2nd. I wish him death -- what's up with unlucky #13?!

8:17 -
Sheffield fouls off the 0-2 pitch and I wish it'd conked him on the nose. I'm feeling violent. As we were walking back from picking up Pepsi (I don't do Coke with my rum), my man started to talk about how I, and all Red Sox fans, have an inferiority complex. Despite the fact that he's joking, he should know better than that, tonight. I called him "an asshole" and let him know that "we're not friends anymore".

8:22 -
I just threw up in my mouth. Seven times -- once for every time I screamed FUCK! watching Matsui's ball fly.

8:25 -
What they do to us, we can do to them. I HAVE to keep the faith.
*I HAVE to keep drinking.
*Double play -- but I still hate them all.

8:29 -
Kevin Brown had an "intestinal parasite"... teehee!

8:31 -
As has been said elsewhere... don't worry, Tito. You can watch Wapner after the game.

8:32 -
Mark Bellhorn strikes out. There's no noise from the crowd. It's funereeal. Manny comes up -- I hear a few shouts.
*More rum goes in my drink.
*FOX: Really? You want to get batters out, as a pitcher? AMAZING!

8:34 -
I can't believe Manny got on base.

8:37 -
As I'm shouting, "YOU ARE NOT FAST, MANNY!", he gets tagged out.

8:41 -
Leadoff double for the Yankees.
*Replay shows SVEUM WAVING Manny to third. Someone make him an amputee. Please.

8:53 -
Oh, thank God!! Nixon's home run just lifted the weight that's been on my heart since the first loss. He's a God. Someone put him in a toga and laurel crown.

8:55 -
"If you don't think you can lift a ball that's low..." YOU'VE NEVER WATCHED BASEBALL!

8:58 -
I have no idea what the Fenway Faithful are chanting, but I love them for it.
*A-Rod is an ass monkey.

9:01 -
Jesus is in the house. Keep the faith.
*My boyfriend tells me I sound like I'm having an orgasm. Why, yes! Yes, I do. And isn't it fucking lovely?!

9:05 -
Full count to Bellhorn. I would give my left tit to be at Fenway.

9:08 -
Yup. I'd definitely have given my tit for that. Maybe all of our blowjob mojo works?

9:10 -
Jesus was clipping his toenails. The hell?

9:14 -
This is a Major League breaking ball? Really? I thought it was Little League -- I was wondering why the kids were so tall!

9:28 -
I don't understand a "balk" but I intensely dislike it. A ton.
*Francona arguing is... futile. And disturbing.
*I'm tired of chasing the Yankees.

9:41 -
The phrase "streaking Patriots" makes me giggle the way the thought of Lowe does not.

9:44 -
Tek's gyrations to stay on third are oddly arousing. I am THRILLED that they switched Billy and Lando in the lineup.
*I don't dare to hope, but I keep the faith.

9:53 -
Billy out at the plate. Man says, "Some weird fucking plays in this game, I have to admit." I smile and continue drinking my rum & coke & rum.
*I hope that Jesus's newly-clipped toenails help him hit better, cause that's what I care about.
*They don't.

10:01 -
Boyfriend's response to me saying, "How can you not hate Jeter, I mean, just look at him!" is a stunning "I dunno, I think he's kinda cute."

10:07 -
Sheffield's home tun. I ask my man if he will kill me. He launches into a diatribe on how "it's just a game" and how I "take it too seriously". Needless to say, I write this off as him not understanding and start plotting a glorious death that implicates all the Yankees.

10:15 -
"This game may never end" -- yeah, that's exactly what I feel like. This is like an eternal, never-ending nightmare.
*Not nightmarishly at all, my mother is on the phone with me -- she's hilarious, bitching not only about the FOX announcers but the ESPN ones as well.

10:30 -
Big Papi gets tagged out on Tek's broken bat. I tell my mother, "I hate the Yankees with a passion that burns hotter than the fires of Mount Doom." She agrees: "Me hates the Yankees!"

10:34 -
Top of the 5th, Lando's "brilliant play" is reminiscent of Nomar only in a "that's more beautiful than anything Nomar would do" kind of way. I realize this is the first time I have thought such a thing about him, and smile.

10:38 -
"Fantasy Player": Clemens. I can't control my gag reflex and I'm sure Mike Piazza, if he's watching, feels the same. These FOX announcers so fucking love Yankees and ex-Yankees cock.

10:42 -
13-6: Why does God hate us? We are not a bad team. There is a divine hand at play here. I am not a "serious" Curse believer; that is, I jokingly refer to it, but I do not believe it.

I'm literally in pain. I can't comprehend this endless chase; my love for the Red Sox is as deep as my fury at their betrayal of that love. I TRUST them to win. I LONG for them to win. When they lose, I bleed for them; when they win, I breathe for them. I know they want to win -- after all, who would want to lose? I can't cant understand why it is that we forever succumb to this team.

I wonder if the Yankees delight is in defeating us, or simply in winning. After seeing their lacklustre (in comparison to the Sox reaction) "celebrations" when they won the ALDS this year, I'm uncertain that it's either.

10:52 -
Still 13-6. What the heck, we challenged this deficit in Game One. We can do it again!

10:58 -
I tell my boyfriend, "I'm trying to get drunk, but it's just not working. All I want is to drink away the pain." I realize I sound like an alcoholic, and don't even care.
*They praise Clemens. I feel like tarring and feathering someone.

11:02 -
Between the top and bottom of this inning, I go to the lav. I think deep thoughts. I come out and stick my picture up against the corner of the TV, using the static to keep it there. I'm refreshed, eager, and confident.
*"C'mon baby, you can do it," I keep repeating.
*Stephen King's response to "How horrifying is this for a Red Sox fan?" rocks. All of his responses are awesome and the FOX reporter is a moron. He's quite silenced and I am ferociously proud of Kin. I've never read one of his books, but I will have a copy of 'Faithful'.
*I immediately wonder if my support of him is a bad thing. And remind myself I don't believe in the Curse.

11:14 -
D. Lowe has a chip on his shoulder, they say. I'd like to see him prove us wrong.
*Also, I LOVE JESUS!!
*Oh, and I am definitely drunk. Gloriously drunk.
*I would like to point out that Bellhorn's error would not have been Pokey's.
*Tim Wakefield's gaze is wounded. But utterly captivating.

11:18 -
Hey! A Maple Leafs team has come back from an 0-3 deficit in a best of 7 series! My man loves the Leafs! If... IF... we get down 0-3, we could win. Karma rocks!

11:22 -
I bet Jeter and A-Rod enjoy anal sex with one another. I enjoy anal sex.
*I bet Matsui does not get any sex. That's why he hits. He has a lot of sexual frustration.
*I love sushi. I hate Japan for loving him.
*When my mom suggested that we pursue him, I nearly hung up on her.

11:25 -
16-6. My heart aches. I want to commit seppuku. I don't blame Jesus. I just ache for him.
*Fenway. Please. Cheer on our boys. My god. Give them hope. Please.

11:28 -
17-6. I can't even describe it. I don't need to. You know. And you know what else? I STILL BELIEVE in our boys.

11:32 -
In my drunken stumbling, I lose my purple pen, god fucking dammit. I am positive that this is a very bad omen. I scream at Sgt. Dan Clark as he sings "God Bless America" to just yell "Go Red Sox!" when he's done.
*I can't see straight. Hell, I can't see crooked. I'm delirious and completely still optimistic. Every Red Sox hit is greeted with a childishly-voice "Yay!" and every Yankee hit with an emphatic, un-lady-like "FUCK!"
*I want to marry Captain Morgan.

11:36 -
Home run Tek! 17-8! There is hope! He is such a beautigul man. Fenway, cheer like they're only one run behind.
*FOX, don't talk about Ortiz being hurt. It is so not funny.
*My toes are so cold.

11:39 -
I can hear a child yelling "Let's go Red Sox!" That is what we all need: that youthful exuberance and faith. Believe. If not today, tomorrow. If not tomorrow, next year. "These boots were made for walkin', and that's just what they'll do, and one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you!"

11:47 -
Tek and Lando, on 2nd and 1st. I delightedly inform my man, "If Jesus hits a home run, we'll only be 6 runs back!" He replies, "Cool!" and I think he pities me. I'm going to get "I'm sorry you were stressed tonight sex!" (Author's note: I didn't; I ended up passing out.)
*"7th inning of a 17 day game." That was actually kinda clever!
*I telepathically communicate to Matsui that he doesn't want to catch Damon's fly ball. He does not comply. I hex all of the Yankees fans that sent him the opposite message.

11:51 -
I'm watching the game on a Canadian station, so during breaks in the game, there are commercials about hockey. Man. They miss their hockey up here.

11:53 -
The Belli? I love the Belli! He has the most beautiful eyes, so soulful. And hey, I'm a woman, I can talk about a man's eyes without it sounding homoerotic, obviously.
*Myers's pitching was sublime. Literally sweet. I'd so fuck him.
*Saying "Byung-Hyun Kim" when you're drunk can be a really fun experience.
*And, FOX, my glass is half-full.
*Lowe's smile actually comforts me. Comforts! Lowe! Amen. I hope he does well tomorrow. And if he does, I hope he gets a big fat contract (elsewhere) next season.

11:57 -
"Never been done. Why not?" Why not, indeed. I smile, but the man laughs. "We can still win," I let him know. I believe it. Being pickled is awesome for a game like this.
*He asks me if I'm going crazy when I flip out at him for changing the channel to SNL. I tell him we can still win. He says I'm delusional (but I win anyways). We make an out on Jeter. I stick my tongue out at him (my man), which my chihuahua apparently takes as an invitation as he immediately hops into my lap and starts licking my face off.

12:04 -
This is awesome. I don't care for the circumstances, but I'm thrilled to have watched my boys for this long. I also found my purple pen. I had stuck it in my ponytail, so it was with me the whole time.
*I hate FOX. Why had they not shown any celebratory fans during their shitty montage? Because they are Yankee cock-suckers, that's why. Fuckers.

12:07 -
We can still win. I am insisting on this, lest I lose my sanity.

12:09 -
The Toronto sportscasters have no faith. Unrelated, they talk about St. Louis and Houston and say "Pujols". I giggle and chirp, "Poo Holes!" My boyfriend doesn't get it, but I find it to be an unguent. Something. Tomorrow. Four in a row. Believe it.

12:11 -
Despite how numb my head is, I say, "Words cannot even encompass how I feel about him." (Matsui)

12:18 -
I recommend drunkenness as the ideal state in which to watch a game. This is the only post-season Sox game for which I will be in such a way. It sure is like wearing rose-coloured glasses, ones that make you laugh! (Author's note: And rather wryly, I must admit that it is NOT the ideal state in which to write something that you later intend to read. Good grief!)

12:24 -
Bottom of the 9th. One out. Nixon up. I know my faith is unfounded. Pitch #400.
*"We can change history. Believe it." I don't. But we can create the future. We can own tomorrow. The day is ours. Let's hold it, and savour it. In the end, after all, the good guys always win.
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