Alright, let’s be frank. Listening to a game on EEI is just a superior f–king thing. Because I like to get all amped up when I watch and/or listen to a ballgame. And nothing against the Rem Dawg and “Chaps” Orsillo, but they just don’t get amped like Joe & Jerry. In fact, you could give yourself coffee and Red Bull enemas from now until next Christmas, and you’ll never attain the level of ampitude that Joe & Jerry have ascended to. How the f–k can you sit still when Trupiano busts with a “There’s a drive… way back.. WAY BACK”?? The answer is you CANNOT. You need to get up and throw your chair and punch the wall and kiss the lifeguard because shit is happening, man, and you can’t see it, but Castiglione and Trup are screaming their nuts off, so it’s gotta be something pretty sweet.
Yesterday, I’m in the office, doing the song and dance thing, when Tek comes up with the bases loaded. And Trup mentions that he’s never hit a grand slam. And seconds later, he’s calling it. AND HE’S CALLING IT LIKE THIS. Loud and in your face and across your back like an electrical current, so that you know, MUTHA, that it’s all going down at the ballpark, and you’d better take a memo.
Of course, the only downside to Joe & Jerry is that, sometimes, even when it turns out to be nothing more than a long fly out, THEY STILL CALL IT LIKE IT’S MASS PIKE BOUND, NUMBNUTS, SO GET OUT YO’ CHAIR AND WAVE A TOWEL. Then they tell you that, yeah, actually, it just landed in the centerfielder’s glove. So you pick up your trousers and head back home.
NESN has the good sense to repeat these afternoon games in the evening, so us corporate cave dwellers can actually watch the game we’ve already listened to as we tear into our Swanson Hungry F–ker Extra Meat Dinners. And watching a game that I already know the Sox have won? That’s the best kind of game to watch. And yesterday’s game was a good, good thing.
Where do we begin? The winning streak extending to eight games? The Emancipator getting back on the hill, mere days after almost having his beard knocked off? Edgah going 3-for-4 including a three-run double and a gorgeous bunt single [Yes, a bunt single can be gorgeous, provided the ball’s never been licked by Bert Blyleven.]? Tek’s aforementioned grannie? Sure, the game turned out to be a slugfest, with Honest Matt giving up six runs over 5 innings, but it was a slugfest that we ended up winning. And that makes it all worthwile.
It also sets my head reeling. Over the course of this winning streak, I’ve been getting the vibe again. That “could we do it again?” vibe. And I say why the hell not? Why the hell not, indeed.
Also, screw you, Bob Wickman.
[Regarding the UL Washington photo… when I was growing up and collecting baseball cards, UL was THE MAN. I’d never seen him play, nor did I give a shit to, but his baseball cards were like myrrh. First off, dude had the game’s most superior afro, and a look that wouldn’t have seemed out of place mixing it up onstage with Earth Wind and Fire. More significantly, on a couple of his baseball cards, he had a toothpick hanging on his lip. A toothpick. How friggin’ hardcore is that? To a young, impressionable kid, the toothpick spoke volumes.]
