didnt plan it that way but there were these australian hitchhikers that i met at the vons. three of them got their paths crossed with some dirty acid.

i have a soft spot for travelers since ive travelled here and there on occasion and i know how vulnerable you can be.

took them to the castle, sat em on the couch, turned on the slow jams, talked about elvis.

doesnt matter what country youre from, your age, your political disposition, race, height, youre going to have an opinion about the king of rock and roll, especially if im leading the proceedings.

the girls thought that elvis was just ok but me and the fella were on the side of theres only one king, and there will only be one.

then we flipped on the tv looking for elvis movies but instead we stopped at the womens college softball world series.

now, i have a big tv.

thirty five inch (diagonal) picture tube made in japan by the mitsubishi company. sold to me by two gay guys who complained that it was too big.

and i had successfully mellowed out these four attractive australian girls by talking about elvis presley and allowing them the freedom to smoke their marijuana. yes i know it is illegal, but i thought i would turn a blind eye since they are foreigners and in very bad shape.

and then we saw berkeley bear first baseman veronica nelson on my glorious television.

and then we saw veronica nelson smack a home run

in the college world series

live from oklahoma city, where i am sure mad pony kristin was in attendance cuz she is perfect in nearly every other way.

and i turned to my guests and they were in tears.

it was a beautiful site. these people didnt really even know the rules of baseball, but they understood the triumph of the moment.

or they were laughing at her.

it was hard to tell.

it appeared that i had gotten a contact high.

so with my mind racing i made a big ass photo essay, for your asses.

city rag + leah +

when we have the ultimate grudge match

Yanks vs Sox, game seven, tonight, 5pm pst

from Bill Simmons today on ESPN.com:

Wait a second … I’m supposed to write about this???

I don’t have a central nervous system left. My head weighs more than Verne Troyer. My heart feels like somebody tried to make meatballs out of it. I can’t think straight. I’m a corpse. I’m a walking corpse.

If the Sox take this thing, they’ll rename the state Papichusetts.

For two straight days, I watched my beloved Red Sox stave off elimination against the Yanks, needing 26 innings over 27 hours to stay alive for Game 6 in New York. These weren’t just baseball games. They were life experiences. They broke you down in sections. They made you question God, the meaning of life, whether sports should possibly mean this much. On Sunday night, I stewed in my seat vowing never to raise my kids as Sox fans.

On Monday night, I skipped out of Fenway wondering if any other team could possibly mean this much to a group of people.

The Sox should have lost about 25 different times. The Sox should have won about 25 different times. They rallied to tie consecutive games against the seemingly invincible Yankees bullpen. They kept the games tied in extra innings with a never-ending stream of fringe starters and worn-out relievers. Their closer recorded 12 outs on 70-plus pitches in the span of 24 hours. They stranded the winning run on second or third base nearly 200 times. Including Saturday night’s game, their three starters recorded 40 outs, leaving another 65 for the bullpen guys. Somehow none of this was a problem.

from ObeyPedro.com:

Rarely in life does one get the chance to right a wrong. The Red Sox have improbably put themselves in position to do just that. Namely: avenge last year’s ALCS game 7 loss while advancing to the big show for a chance to win their first title in 86 years.

I was curious to see what I wrote before the 2003 Game 7 and here’s a snippet from the post:

So now the Red Sox face the improbable task of beating their most storied rival, the team with the highest payroll in the history of MLB, the New York Yankees, on their home field for the opportunity to play in their first World Series since 1986.

86 years — 1986. Coincidence? Of course.

Before the Angels series I felt strangely serene. After the Sox had finished them off in 3-games, I attributed my calmness to “knowing deep down all along” that they were going to win. I felt the same way before the Yanks series began but after NY took a 3-0 lead, I just figured that deep down I knew all along they were going to lose. But now I believe it was a positive vibe afterall.

Believe.

from Edw Cossette from Fox Sports New England:

Talk about Red Sox!

When I saw Schilling take the mound without the high top cleat but instead the low cleat and that blood soaked sock I teared up. I’m tearing up now again as I write about it.

Schilling’s performance last night was the greatest sports event I’ve witnessed. So we are told “it’s just a game.” Yeah, it is.

But in the same way that Beowulf is just a short story and Beethoven’s Ode to Joy chorale is just people singing.

all i know is karisa refuses to talk to me about it because we when we were on the phone last night the yankees scored a run, so apparently im bad luck for her team.

and you know what, i totally understand her paranoia.

go sox.

boston dirt dogs