Jason Varitek broke his elbow diving for a pop foul in an 8-1 game vs. Detroit. Once again, the fullback mentality gets the best of the Red Sox.
I think I’m understanding the Sox better after the events of this week. They seem to think that by emptying the tank in June, be it milking another inning out of Pedro or going full-bore for a pop foul with the game already in hand, they can right 83 years of bad luck. In short, the Sox always seem to be pressing.
Insert your favorite quote here:
A. This ain’t football, we do this every day.
B. Pennants aren’t won in June. But they’re often lost there.
C. If every game is life and death, you’re gonna end up dead a lot of the time.
Now, permit me to enter the 7 1/2th Floor of Fenway Park…
BEING DAN DUQUETTE
“To hell with Jimy Williams. He hasn’t taken our team to the playoffs in… let’s see… twenty goddamned months! Holy shit. I’ve got to fire this guy soon. Fuck. I’ve got to show that drunk Bob Ryan I’m the boss around here.
“To hell with Felipe Alou. Just because he’s free to manage again doesn’t mean I have to hire him. Even with our Montreal connection. Even with everything those writers are saying.
“What this team needs is a manager who will come in and establish some intensity, damn it. No one will be caught not hustling. We must not let up for a minute if we’re going to beat the pinstriped scourge. We need a few more ballplayers like Jason Varitek. Guys willing to risk everything for a single play. Pitchers who’ll take the ball whenever they’re asked to do so, no matter how bad their arm’s hurt. Rod Beck types, damn it! That’s the kind of intensity I need.
“Boy, I sure wish we had a guy like Butch Hobson around. That guy would run through a wall for the Boston fans. I think he did, actually. It’s always third-and-long with him. Da-da-da-DA-da-DA! CHARGE!!!!
“Let’s see… where’s my Rolodex? Hmmmmm…. managers, managers. Billy Martin? He’d never leave the Yankees. And besides, he’s dead. Fuck. Dick Williams? Last seen with his dick hanging out, and on the Yankee payroll no less. No, no, no. Earl Weaver? Too old. Too drunk. Sure would get Bob Ryan off my ass, though. Let’s see… Gene Mauch? Holy shit, that’s IT!!!! He’s got to be due for a pennant some time…”