Maybe Not So Much?

* Also -- "Newbury Street's Frozen Yogurt Wars"? Ha ha ha ha ha. Good city. Good newspaper.

** Also -- congratulations to the 2011 A.L. Eastern Division Champion New York Yankees. I've said it before, and I hope to say it again, but this never gets old.

Thank You

This totally makes up for that time you guys killed Steve Irwin.

A Plea to Yankees' Fans

As we prepare for our first Yankees/Red Sox apocalypse of the year, I have a request for Yankees fans. Please, please, please do not chant "18-1" at Red Sox fans. Ever.

If you do, you'll be no better than the Bostonians who chant "Yankees suck" at Patriots' Super Bowl parades.

Scenes From a Parade

EXT. - BOSTON - DAY
The Red Sox victory parade crawls down Boylston Street. Three Red Sox fans stand on the sidewalk pounding Sam Adams Lights as the floats pass them by. It's 11 a.m.

Sully: YANKEES SUCK!!!

Smitty: Fuck yeah they do! YANKEES MUTHAFUCKING SUCK!!!

Sully: Holy mother of fuck do the Yankees fucking suck!

Fitzie: Dude, check it the fuck out: It's Youk! On that float!

Smitty: YOOOOOUUUKKKKKKK!!!!!!!

Sully: YANKEES SUCK!!!

Fitzie: (pulls off his "Derek Jeter is a Gay" T-shirt; pours beer down his chest) Is it just me, boys, or does the Samuel Motherfucking Adams taste a little bit sweeter today?

Smitty: Fuck yeah it does (smashes his beer bottle at the feet of two high school girls standing nearby) What? What the fuck you looking at? You gotta fucking problem?

Fitzie: (grabs genitalia) You want some of this, ladies? Huh? Yeah, that's right, run away. Fucking bitches.

Sully: I think right now the Yankees suck harder than they ever sucked, kid.

Fitzie: YANKEES SUCK!!! How's ya big payroll now, Yankees?

Smitty: Dude, there goes Coco Crisp. Look at that cocksucker, smiling like he fucking did something. What did you do, Crisp?? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?

Sully: I swear to God, that guy might as well be a fucking Yankee.

Smitty: Holy fuck, there's Jacoby. Jacoby! Ovah here! Ovah here! I fucking love you!

Fitzie: Goddamnit, he won't even fucking look at us. Jacoby! Bastard thinks he's too good to have a drink with some regular Boston boys.

Smitty: Fuck you, Jacoby, you fucking stuck-up piece of shit! We're trading you to the Yankees!

Sully: YANKEES SUCK!!! (punches random black person who happens to be walking by)

Fitzie: FUCK YEAH!! YANKEES SUCK!!!

Sully: Dude, do you know what is so fucking sweet?

Smitty: That fucking ball girl on the right field line's ass?

Sully: That too. But I mean how we were able to win this fucking thing even though we're not some gay-ass big market team like the fucking Yankees.

Fitzie: For real, kid.

Sully: We won this thing cause Theo's a fucking genius, and Dustin Pedroia has the heart of Stone Cold Steve Austin and the Heartbreak Kid Shawn Michaels combined.

Smitty: (singing) I'm just a sexy boy!

Fitzie: The fucking Yankees can spend all their money all they want. All it buys them is Gay-Rod (five minute break while he laughs hysterically at the nickname, then composes himself) who goes like one for a million in the playoffs.

Smitty: But wait a second. Gay-Rod (more giggling) ain't a Yankee no more, so maybe we can't hate him. What if Theo signs him?

Sully: DO NOT WANT! That kid is fucking gay. And he has purple lips! That's gay!

Fitzie: We fucking hate gays! YANKEES SUCK!!!

Smitty: Hey guys, this parade looks wicked sweet. Do you think we should pay attention instead of spending one of the only good moments we'll ever have in our lives talking about the Yankees? Should we let our hatred go?

Sully: ...

Fitzie: ...

Sully: Why are you talking like a fucking fag?

Smitty: Fuck, kid, you're right. (smashes Sam Adams bottle) YANKEES SUCK!!!

Fitzie: Hey, what do you want to do after this? Besides drinking more sweet fucking Sam Adams of course.

Sully: I heard Gone Baby Gone's playing at Kendall Square.

Smitty: Sweet. Let's hit that, then the strip club, then we'll go back to Fitzie's place and draw some sweet fucking pictures of Andy Pettitte making out with Mike Mussina.

An Ode to Dustin Pedroia's Grit

O! Wee second baseman, you've made a city fall in love
Despite your non-existent power and mediocre glove
Your eye black shines just so in the sacred Fenway lights
A testament to hustle, to playing the game right

You've a heart the size of Eckstein
Leadership like Lo Duc
A gutsy mentality, a gritty vitality
And the feisty toughness of the Youk

But still, young Dustin, one puzzlement remains
One befuddlement that lingers in my brain
Yon Coco Crisp has your same set of skills
The steely eyes, the love of bunting drills
Yet young Mr. Crisp will soon be run out of town
For, alas! Alack! His skin is brown

Congratulations to the Boston Red Sox

I hope you enjoy the 1.5 million fans from around the country you won over last night, who will all be wearing those awesome green St. Patrick's Day Red Sox shirts in a few months.

That's a Wonderful Operation You've Got Up There

1) What are the chances that a fan running onto the field would have been allowed to make it all the way to second base if the Red Sox were in the field, rather than the Yankees?

2) What sort of bullshit is this? Are the Red Sox so desperate now against the Yankees that they're resorting to Gilloolian tactics? I guess Gagne's not good for much else.

Dear Fatty McRepublican:

Suck it.

Love,

Captain Intangibles

The New England Patriots are Still Cheaters (And Their Fans are Juvenile Whiners)

Of the many entertaining subplots to come out of the revelation that Bill Belichick is a lying cheater in addition to being a douche, the most preposterous is the round of playground attacks by Pats-backers on Eric Mangini, claiming that he's a "tattletale."

Jigga what?

So let me get this straight: Mangini is supposed to notice the Patriots blatantly cheating in a game against his team and allow it to continue happening? Does that really make sense in your baked-beans-addled brains?

When Mike Tyson bit Evander Holyfield's ear off, was Holyfield supposed to smile politely and shake it off, so as not to break any sort of unwritten code?

When George Bush stole Florida from Al Gore, was Gore supposed to happily accept the biased Supreme Court's decision....oh wait...

I'm Going to Hell! Who's Coming With Me?

The Yankees begin a three-game series tonight in the darkest regions of Mordor Fenway Park that will go a long way to determining their playoff standing.

If the Yankees sweep Boston, they will be two games out in the loss column with two weeks remaining in the season, and a legitimate chance to win the A.L. East.

If they get swept, they risk letting Detroit move to within a half-game of the Wild Card lead and potentially missing the post-season altogether.

Both teams have their pitching lined up the way they want, with Andy Pettitte, Chien-Ming Wang and Roger Clemens lining up against Douche-K, Josh Beckett and Curt Schilling. The Yankees' edge in starting pitching is probably offset by Boston's home-field advantage. And Joba Chamberlain probably can only pitch one in the series, thanks to the brilliant machinations of Genius Joe.

The Red Sox will also likely be looking for revenge after Joba threw up-and-in twice against Kevin Youkilis two weeks ago in the Bronx. Someone's getting drilled this series, and things could escalate quickly. Brawls, suspensions and injuries would not surprise me.

Odds on the first Yankee to get drilled:

ARod - 2:1 — A third baseman for a third baseman.
Jeter - 3:1 — Always a target, and he stays close to the plate.
Johnny Damon - 6:1 — Would certainly get the crowd going, and he's the leadoff hitter. Why waste time?
Bobby Abreu - 7:1 — Seems most comparable to Youkilis in terms of overall value.
Jorge Posada - 9:1 — So valuable to the Yankees that injuring him "accidentally" would be of tremendous benefit to the Sox.
Hideki Matsui - 10:1 — Seems like a nice guy so nobody usually fucks with him.

The New England Patriots are Cheaters

Well, well, well. Looks like the Patriots used some illegal cameras (and possibly radio frequencies) to spy on the Jets coaches' signals during yesterday's game at the Meadowlands.

Where is Joba Chamberlain when you need him to throw a high fastball a couple feet over Bill Belichick's head?

A Few Words About Clay Buchholz's No-Hitter

My inbred, asthmatic cousin could pitch a no-hitter against Baltimore.

Also, stop stealing Phil Hughes's ideas.

I'm Talkin' Willie, Joba and the Youk

For the record, I was incredibly close on the Post headline. They went with "Yankees Hit Sweep Spot." Right pun, wrong usage. Oh well, get 'em next time, champ.

Again for the record, I can't profess to know whether or not Joba Chamberlain was throwing at Kevin Youkilis. Given the control he's exhibited thus far, it seems extremely unlikely that two consecutive pitches would "slip" and end up a foot over Redbeard's head. But Joba did act shocked that he was being thrown out, and I doubt he's that good an actor.

Someone seems to have given Joba a checklist of ways to ingratiate himself with Yankees fans. Fix a decaying bullpen? Check. Dominate the American League with ridiculous sliders? Check. Reignite the Yanks/Sox rivalry by throwing at the head of one of Boston's most despicable players? Double check.

Whatever Joba's intent, the Yankees/Red Sox series in Fenway in a couple weeks now promises to be a circus of Clemens/Piazza proportions, especially if the Yankees can manage to gain a couple more games on them by then.

For their part, the Red Sox reacted like a bunch of juvenile hypocrites, conveniently forgetting how many Yankees have drilled by Boston's thugs over the past few years. They are shocked and outraged that someone would dare throw up and in in a game of baseball! Kevin Youkilis continued to play the part of a bad guy wrestler perfectly, giving his big, angry, post-match speech in the ring. He and Francona gave quotes that can only be described as vaguely threatening:

"If that young man is trying to get our attention, he did a very good job," Francona said.

"It will be interesting to see how that series plays out," Youkilis said.

It's better than even money that Josh Beckett will drill someone in Fenway in September. And if Roger Clemens pitches in that series, things will almost certainly escalate.

Honestly, I think this is a distraction the Yankees don't need right now. The Red Sox were on their heels; there was no reason to poke them with a stick. If Joba threw at Youkilis, I wish he would have thought twice before taking on that responsibility in his 12th big-league inning.

Yanks Have a Sweep Tooth!*

* Prediction for tomorrow's Post headline

The Yankees finished off a very satisfying sweep of Boston, beating them 5-0 behind a great outing from Chien-Ming Wang, Robinson Cano's bat and more Joba. Same as it ever was.

The Yankees pull to within five of the Red Sox, but the A.L. East race is still over for all intents and purposes. These three games should put some doubts in their heads come October, though, if things break right.

Line of the week goes to Peter Abraham at LoHud, referring to Kevin Franchise being called out for running outside the baselines, then arguing up a storm: "Youkilis will have a nice career as a wrestling bad guy when he retires from baseball." So true, but not the kind of bad guy you love to root against, and secretly enjoy watching, like "Stone Cold" Steve Austin before he turned good. More like the kind of bad guy who you think is retarded, and makes you want to change the channel, like Doink the clown.

The fallout from Joba's ejection, and Torre's silly decision to bring him in for the ninth, will be interesting to watch unfold.

But for the rest of the day, let's just enjoy ourselves. The Yankees are in a pennant race, they swept Boston, fall's coming, and "Radio Nowhere" is available for free on iTunes. Good fucking times.

Monsieur Gagne Meets Mr. Schilling

Psycho Fan Inc. has obtained an exclusive transcript of Eric Gagne's first visit to the Boston clubhouse, after the Red Sox acquired him from Texas at the trading deadline. Here's what transpired:

INT. - CLUBHOUSE - DAY
CURT SCHILLING has set up his customary podium in the center of the Red Sox clubhouse, and is orating with great force, might and bluster. Several players listen attentively. Others wander around the clubhouse wearing headphones.

CURT

...and THAT'S WHY we need a Constitutional Amendment banning poor people from public parks and federal buildings, AND why we need a new, more special Hall of Fame for when I get elected on the first ballot. God bless you.

DUSTIN PEDROIA, sitting cross-legged in front of the podium with COCO CRISP and KYLE SNIDER, puts down his pen and notepad and applauds rapturously.

DUSTIN

Bravo, Mr. Schilling, sir. Bravo!

CURT

Thank you, Dustin. I hope we've all learned a little something here today. What's this?

ERIC GAGNE strolls in the clubhouse, whistling a merry tune, carrying an equipment bag.

ERIC

Hello everyone. I am Monsieur Gagne, I am...how you say?...pleased to meet you. I come from the great land of Quebec, via the barren desert of Arlington, Texas. I am tres happy to be here in your fine city of Bos-ton.

CURT

Who is this clown and what's wrong with his voice?

TIM WAKEFIELD

That's Eric Gagne, Curt. He's our new stud relief pitcher, and that's a French accent. Eric's French-Canadian.

ERIC

C'est vrai.

Curt knocks his podium to the ground with loud clatter, and races across the clubhouse. He grabs Gagne by the shirt collar and pins him up against the clubhouse wall.

CURT

Listen, Frenchy, we don't need your kind here.

ERIC

Mais monsieur, I am not French. I am a proud French-Canadian. Allez les Nordiques! Oui?

CURT

I don't care what you are, Pepe Le Peu. Get your cowardly, art-loving derriere out of our American locker room!

TIM

Curt...Curt...let him go. He's going to be helping our team a lot.

CURT

Shut up, you pinko knuckleballer. Try throwing a God-fearing American fastball, then get back to me.

ERIC

Please, let me go.

CURT

(fake sobs)

Oh...boo hoo...please...please let me go. TYPICAL FUCKING FRENCHMAN. You pussy...is that what you guys said during World War II to the Nazis? Please, sirs, let us go?

ERIC

Actually, I am from Canada, I must point out again...

CURT

And is that what you said when we asked you to help get that evildoer Saddam Hussein out of power? Thanks for your help fighting terrorism, Jacques Cousteau.

ERIC

I must admit, I do not agree with your American crusade in Iraq. Ze cost in human life is not worth...

CURT

THAT'S WHAT I FUCKING THOUGHT.

Curt punches Eric in the stomach, and Eric doubles over in pain. Tim and MIKE LOWELL try to restrain Curt, but he breaks free of their grasp, runs to his locker and grabs his large American flag. He runs back to Eric, still doubled over, and bashes the flag over his head, breaking the wooden pole in half. DAISUKE MATSUZAKA tries to pull Curt away, but Curt turns and stabs him in the arm with the shard of the flagpole.

CURT

That's for Pearl Harbor, asshole.

Curt kicks Daisuke in the balls.

DAISUKE

性交

CURT

And that's for not accepting the Lord Jesus Christ as your personal savior, like I asked you to in spring training.

TIM

Please Curt, this has to stop. You're decimating our pitching staff for the stretch run.

CURT

Well, I guess there is one thing that could calm me down.

TIM

Oh, no. Right here, in front of everyone?

Curt gives Daisuke an Indian burn.

TIM

OK, OK!!

Tim races to the clubhouse phone and calls THEO EPSTEIN.

TIM

Theo, you better get down here. Schilling needs some...uh...attention.

Theo sprints from his office upstairs to the clubhouse. He surveys the damage.

THEO

I'm here, everything's going to be OK. Calm down everybody.

Theo walks up to Curt and gently caresses his cheek.

THEO

Curt, remember how I convinced you to come to Boston in the first place? That one special Thanksgiving? AMERICAN Thanksgiving, that is, not that jacked up Canadian version.

CURT

I remember, T.

Theo drops to his knees in front of Curt, and slowly unzips his pants.

CURT

God bless America.

FADE OUT

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad French-Canadian?

Eric Gagne was not worth Phil Hughes or Joba Chamberlain. That much we can all agree upon. He was not worth Ian Kennedy or Melky Cabrera. I think most of us can agree on that too.

Sure, it's bad news that the Red Sox got him, and he does bolster their overrated bullpen. But there are too reasons the Gagne trade won't hurt the Yankees:

1) The Yankees are not going to catch Boston. According to Baseball Prospectus, the Yankees have just a 5 percent chance of winning the A.L. East. They should be focused on the Wild Card. So Gagne shouldn't affect the Yankees unless New York ends up facing Boston in the ALCS, something which has about a 10 percent chance of happening, at this point. Cleveland didn't improve at the deadline, and that's more important.

2) Frenchy ain't what he used to be. Leaving aside for the moment the obvious injury risks, Gagne's K/9 rate is down to 7.84, off from his career mark of 10.23. His WHIP is 1.05, still quite good. But while dominating the National League from 2002-2004, he posted a 0.83 WHIP. (Strangely, Gagne pitched exactly 82.1 innings in each of those seasons.) Eric Gagne's still a very good pitcher, albeit fragile, he's simply not the monster he used to be.

My Application to Become President of Red Sox Nation

The douchiest franchise in all of sports is running some ridiculous contest to elect an honorary president of "Red Sox Nation." (And by the way, "Red Sox Nation" is a moronic, self-bestowed nickname. I think we should start calling ourselves "The YankHeads" or "The Yankees Traveling Circus" or "La Cosa Yankees" or "The Pinstriped Gang of Doom" or "The Four-Million Man March" or MAYBE WE SHOULD JUST CALL OURSELVES YANKEES FANS AND NOT GIVE OURSELVES A GAY-ASS, SELF-CONGRATULATORY NICKNAME. Either way.)

After much deliberation and soul-searching, I've decided to throw my hat in the ring. Forthwith, my application:

I humbly ask you, kind citizens of Red Sox Nation, to elect me, The Psycho Fan, as your president.

My qualifications are myriad and irreproachable:

1) I lived in Boston for six of the most miserable months of my life.
2) I have been to Fenway Park on several occasions.
3) I have watched numerous Red Sox games on television, and listened to more on the radio.
4) I know who all their current players are.
5) I can name all the great Red Sox who have ever played: Ted Williams when he had a head, Roger Clemens, Wade Boggs. See? That was easy.

As if you needed more reasons to give me your vote after seeing that resume, allow me to delineate how I will fulfill my duties if elected. I call this my Hundred Day Plan.

First order of business: Prettier ball girls. I know there's not much to choose from in the greater Boston area, but come on. You've gotta be able to do better than that.

Second order of business: NESN revamp. No more Remdawg. Sorry, guys, that accent is killing me. Also...again with the ugly.

Third order of business: Move Fenway Park to Brooklyn. I am pretty sure this can be done with enforced cables and helicopters. The Cyclones could use a new (old) ballpark, and frankly, the last hundred years or so of Red Sox history does little to convince me they can sustain a winning tradition long enough to deserve such a fine old stadium.

Fourth order of business: Re-name Red Sox Nation. New moniker: Douchefuckers Incorporated. As president, I will have absolute power and you will be unable to stop me.

Fifth order of business: Evict all racists from Douchefuckers Incorporated. Hey, wait...where's everybody going?

Sixth order of business: Make sure that no fans are killed by Big Dig debris collapses on the way to games. HA HA HA HA...you have all been punk'd. Everyone knows that could never be accomplished, even by a president as omnipotent as me.

Seventh order of business: Ensure that Manny is never allowed to be Manny again.

Eighth order of business: Use my position of influence and power to strong-arm Red Sox ownership to trade Curt Schilling to the Florida Marlins, where there is no media, and every word he utters will disappear into a vacuum devoid of light and sound.

Ninth order of business: Bury the rotting, rancid carcass of Douchefuckers Incorporated somewhere in The Combat Zone.

I know it sounds like a lot of work, but I am confident that together, Red Sox fans, we can accomplish anything. How do you like them apples?

I am counting on your vote. If nominated, I will run. If elected, I will serve.

Some Pictures of Jonny Papelbon Looking and Acting Like a Douche

Because I feel like it.


















And I'm not even including his ridiculous "intimidating glare," as he looks in for the signs, in which he strongly resembles a 5-year-old boy who's really mad that you took away his Teddy Ruxpin.

Or the mohawk.

He Must Have Pissed Off Jesus

I still don't think the Yankees can catch the Red Sox, but this was glorious.

His Highness Curt Schilling got slapped around by the woeful Rockies last night. Between losing the no-hitter in heartbreaking fashion and now this 5 IP, 5 ER, 9H performance, Schilling must not be glorifying God nearly enough. Get on the pulpit and preach it, Brother Schill!

In related news, when are we having Shannon Stewart Day at the Stadium?

The Classiest Fans in the World

So, in the early innings of this weekend's Yankees/Red Sox series, a high pop fly was hit in ARod's direction. When the ball was in mid-air, you could feel a light bulb go off above the crowd's collective head, and thousands of voices screamed "Mine!" and "Hah!" at once. I chuckled, and for the briefest of moments, considered the possibility that Red Sox fans aren't the single worst group of people in the world.

FALSE.

Over the course of the rest of the series, the Fenway faithful proceeded to:

-Cheer wildly when Derek Jeter fouled a pitch off his foot and hopped around in obvious pain. (I thought only Philly fans cheered injuries.)
-Hold up paper cut-out masks in front of their faces of the woman with whom ARod was recently photographed.
-Give Blistery Josh Beckett a standing ovation as he left Sunday night's game, after he gave up 4 ER, 8 H and 3 BB in 6.1 IP, a performance which included putting his team in a 4-0 hole. Wow, those Boston fans really know their baseball.

Red Sox fans are philistines unfit to worship in the temple where they congregate. They are crude, ignorant, vicious, hypocritical, foul-smelling, bigoted, ugly motherfuckers who don't deserve to breathe the polluted air that infests their ugly, traffic-ridden hole of a city.

And Peter Gammons needs to stop jerking off during his sideline reports about the wonders of Beckett and Kevin Franchise. "Why, I remember seeing Youkilis play in the Cape Cod League, and he's completely transformed himself as a hitter through hard work and dedication, and..."

Go back to what you're good at, Pete: giving shitty music recommendations. (The statute of limitations has passed for mocking someone who's recently suffered a near-fatal brain aneurysm, right? Right??)