HE SAID: Case of the Mondays?

April 25, 2011

Is it blasphemous to refer to the Celtics, Bruins & Red Sox as the Holy Trinity, especially the day after Easter? Well those three are a combined 12-0 so trust me it is tempting. As a result, these links promise to be fun, and not all depressing.

So I could give a crap, but I’m pandering to the (female) masses here…a schedule for what to watch on this Royal Wedding Week.


Something tells me Ference didn’t mind opening his wallet for $2,500. Im sure he thinks it was worth….especially since he’ll get over $10,000 worth of alcohol bought for him in Boston bars.


Um, this is perfect. Probably not completely safe for work.


This movie looks kind of Catcher in the Rye-ish, kind of sweet, kind of predictable, but whatever.

HE SAID: Case of the Mondays?

June 21, 2010

I’ve had a case of the Mondays since Friday, thanks to the lack of offense the Celtics displayed in second half of game 7…but then this site about the oil spill kind of put into perspective how meaningless the game really was.  Of course, that didn’t stop me from staying up just about all night reliving the hell that was the loss.


Hey, at least he made an effort…I hope we still are trying to find Bin Laden as ferociously as this dude.


This is the best baseball manager tirade I have EVER seen. Promise…definitely NSFW.


I relish in the French (soccer team) sucking.

HE SAID: Case of the Mondays?

June 13, 2010

I think this is appropriate to lead off with, fun times!


My Dad forwarded this to me…a bit old, so you might have seen it but it’s also pretty effing hilarious, especially if you like religious zealots getting served.  Oh and if you are wondering about my Dad, and Mom, whom I’m currently living with…it’s going fine so far and my mother would like to report she has not been a nag AT ALL.


More World Cup fun, courtesy of collegehumor.


Shrek & Donkey, aka Nate Robinson and Big Baby Davis are highly entertaining…especially the second part of this.

HE SAID: Case of the Mondays?

May 3, 2010

So I’m going to annoy readers who don’t like sports, because they have consumed my life this past week (even moreso than normal), for better and worse.  Here are some highlights and lowlights in the world of sports this week:

This foul call, along with the whole Tim Donaghy gamlbing thing, are why the NBA struggles to get new fans.


Here is Marc Savard getting knocked out with a severe concussion a couple months back.  Here he is Saturday, scoring the game winning goal in Boston Bruins OT against the Philadelphia Flyers in game one…in his first game back.


The rebirth of the Boston Celtics happened during this fight.  Unfortunately, based on game 1 against Cleveland, the rebirth won’t last too long.


This guy is going to be a legit New England Patriot…if anything skip to the end when his family chants his name. Awesome stuff.


I was going to post something about the Red Sox, but it’s just too depressing at this point.  Instead, I’ll veer off my path and show you another highlight from Pearl Jam, Hartford 2008…since I’ll be seeing them again in 12 days.  Here is Eddie talking about the epa and global warming stuff…usually this annoys me at shows, but at least it gets conversation going. (beware some curse words)

HE SAID: The 1990s

April 22, 2010

I feel like lots of my time on this blog has been devoted casual references to the epic 1980s.  And besides a few mentions of shows like Beverly Hills, 90210 and Saved by the Bell, we really haven’t given enough credence to the 1990s.  Lots of cool shit went down in the 90s, and I’d like to tell you about some of them

1. The first thing that stands out is 1990s movies that tried so desperately to pretend they were still in the 80s.  Side Out, Days of Thunder, Point Break, Aspen Extreme…all movies made in the 90s.  Hell, Aspen Extreme was made in 1993! Oh and sidenote – if you haven’t seen Side Out, the beach volleyball movie starring C. Thomas Howell and Courtney Throne Smith, netflix the shit out of it.  These movies, from the cheesy soundtracks to the wardrobes scream 1980s, and its sweet.

2. Remember when you could wear a flannel shirt because Eddie Vedder rocked one? Or a cardigan because Kurt Cobain made them popular (I refuse to mention Mr. Rogers, who still gives me nightmares)? Perhaps you forgot, which is easy to do because of all the indie hipsters out there who have made these articles of clothing impossible to wear without the requisite skinny jeans (luckily, we are somewhat safe in Vermont).

3. Speaking of Eddie and Kurt, on the whole the music produced in the 1990s was WAY more memorable than what we get these days.  40 years later and we still talk about the Beatles/Floyd/Zeppelin etc, and in 20 years bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam will still be known to all (and yes, U effing 2 – though they are an 80s and 90s band).  Hell even Britney Spears will probably be talked about, if only because she’ll be making her 17th comeback.  But music the past 10 years or so, while I’ve enjoyed it, has produced very few, if any bands or artists that have a good chance of making it well into our future. Lady Gaga included.

4. While the 1990s was a decade of futility for teams (Patriots made one super bowl, sucked the rest of the decade; Celtics had their second player in 7 years die of cocaine issues and were a joke; the Red Sox spawned teams that featured names like Damon Buford; and the Bruins weren’t even on anyone’s radar), they were in a sense more enjoyable to watch.  I didn’t know every single thing about every single player – from what PED they were taking to what nightclub they were at trying to have sex with a young coed.  I don’t condone this action, but sometimes ignorance is bliss.

5. I really feel like bad, yet incredibly watchable TV was paramount in the 90s (90210 will not be listed here, it is not a bad show) – Party of Five, Walker Texas Ranger, Melrose Place, Califronia Dreams, Saved the Bell: The College Years, Friends…yup, I said Friends, that show sucked.  Why? Cause Ross is a huge tool. He Said, OUT!

HE SAID: Do I Care Too Much about Sports?

July 1, 2009

Last night the Red Sox were leading in a somewhat meaningless regular season game 10-1 in the 7th inning.  They lost the game 11-10.  Kept me up about an extra hour figuring out the different plays that could have kept the game in the Sox favor.

Six weeks ago the Bruins lost Game 7 in overtime, ending their season in traumatic fashion.  Watched the replays until about 2am.  Truth be told, I don’t even like hockey that much.

The Celtics won their first NBA Title a little over a year ago, causing me to giggle like a school girl for about the next week.  The same week that I sported my Kevin Garnett  T shirt every day.

February 14th, 2008 – The Giants shocked the Patriots in the Super Bowl, ending their perfect season and a chance to be known as the greatest team of all time.  I drank myself into oblivion to drown away my sorrows, and puked 4 times at work the next day.  My boss understood, he is a Pats fan too…guess he just handled his liquor better.


Autumn, 2004 – Red Sox win their first World Series in 86 years, I buy $500 worth of Sox memorabilia online.  I was making $500 a month as a Minor League Baseball Intern.  Oh, yeah, also blew about $200 at a strip club the night they won because I had just moved to Mobile, Alabama and had no friends to celebrate with.

October 17th, 2003 – Aaron Boone sends a shot of Tim Wakefield for a walk off homerun to end Game 7 in somewhat dramatic fashion.  I turn the TV off before the ball lands and fall right asleep.  Surprising, right? I guess I was mentally drained.  Oh, I guess I should also mention I did not leave my shithole of a college apartment for the next 48 hours.

These are just a few of countless examples of the ups and downs of my life in relation to sports.  So I guess I answered my own question, I probably do care too much about sports.  I guess the follow up would be, is that such a bad thing?

Sure I was about as depressed as Owen Wilson when he was reading suicide books in Wedding Crashers after Boone hit that shot, but I was also probably happier than that same movie character when he was banging hot chicks left and right at the beginning of the movie when the Sox won a year later (hmm, maybe the bigger issue I have is constantly comparing my life to movies, but that’s a separate post altogether).

Some people question the passion I have for sports, or how I can watch game 37 of a 162 game baseball season all the way through.  Fuck it, I enjoy it that’s why.  Go watch your cooking shows or American Idol and leave me be.  I don’t judge.

Basically, I needed to write this post because I freaked myself out a bit at how pissed I was at last nights epic collapse by the Sox.  So I used my readers as my therapists.  Thanks for listening.

SHE SAID: Do I Care Too Much about Sports?

July 1, 2009

Do you care too much about sports … I might be the wrong person to ask.

Red Sox games in my house as a child were referred to as church, much to the chagrin of my religious mother.  I thought my parents were going to get a divorce when my mother entered the living room during the world series in 1986 and announced she was rooting for the Mets since they were the underdog.  My father, sitting maybe seven inches from the TV, gave her a look that could have started spontaneous fire were it directed upon something that wasn’t comprised of 70% water.

My younger brother learned to read not by stumbling over repetitive sentences about Spot, but by memorizing the sports section every morning.  He retained an impressive amount of information, and knew the fluctuating day to day stats on almost all baseball players.

Sports, when adored and scrutinized to this depth, becomes more than a game.  True fandom encompasses and realizes mathematics, sociology, psychology, art, philosophy, religion, economics … everything.

However, there is a fine line, pointed out to me recently.  It all started with the Bruins.  Game Seven.  2009 playoffs.

I’m going to blame my difficulty in swallowing this loss on my 4 year-old son.  He adores hockey and those of you who don’t know him, might think, oh cute.  But you don’t know my son.  When I say adores, I mean, he went to bed with all 300 of his hockey cards tonight.  Organized by team.  He also sleeps with his hockey sticks, plays hockey games with his lego men, his marbles, and his baseball cards, is constantly, and I mean constantly, quizzing me about which team I would root for in any theoretical match up on the ice, invites anyone who walks in the door to play floor hockey with him, has memorized almost the entire script of Miracle, will only wear shirts with numbers in case an impromptu game should arise, makes me announce hockey games while I’m brushing his teeth, pretend I’m Savard shooting at his mouth when I help him finish his dinner, and these things all happen many times a day every day.  Yes, it’s still cute, but it’s intense.

When I told him he could stay up to watch a play off game if he took a nap he dropped directly to the floor and was asleep within 5 seconds.  I thought he was faking, but he was still asleep on the floor three hours later.  And he stayed up to watch the whole game, the overtime, and ultimately, the losing goal.  I tucked him in and listened to him moaning for 45 minutes.  I felt responsible.  I had introduced him to fandom, Boston fandom, and I had broken his heart for the first time at four and a half.

crying fan

But don’t buy my story that the game was tough to watch because of his emotional investment in the Bruins.  The passion starts with me.  I took him to the games this winter, I set the Tivo to record every game, I personalized his jersey, taught him which player wore which number, the toe drag, the five hole …

And therein lies the fine line.  Caring, becoming attached, adoring – all fine.  Being upset after a loss – understandable. Being four and going to bed moaning after your gods get beaten in overtime – heart-wrenching to witness, but acceptable.  Drinking a handle of B&B and throwing up in your friend’s kitchen sink and at work all the following morning – funny as hell for your co-workers, and tolerable.  Not being able to talk on the phone, as I might have been after game seven of this year’s playoff series, starting a fight with another fan, crying in public (I didn’t do either of those) – not acceptable.

Considerable passion is not understood by all, not even by those who can appreciate athletics.  If you’re thinking you might care too much, that might be an indication that you’re flirting with disaster … but if you’re still able to enjoy the game, I have no answer.