Fatty Sabathia wins Cy Young; Boston fans demand recount

Dustin Pedroia won the AL Rookie of the Year, so I suppose it was too much to hope for that one of Boston's own also bring home the Cy Young award. Sigh. Cleveland ace C.C. Sabathia edged out Boston's Josh Beckett, the ONLY pitcher in the majors to win 20 games this year, to win this year's AL Cy Young award. The logic, once I temporarily turn off the Masshole portion of my brain, is actually fairly straightforward: Sabathia pitched 40 more innings than Beckett and posted only one win fewer, all on significantly less run support. So, fine. I've said all season that there are plenty of pitchers in the AL with more raw talent than Beckett (Sabathia, Haren, Santana, Bedard, and even Wang before the post-season), and I guess the voting here bears me out. Given the fact that Ryan Braun won the NL Rookie of the Year over Troy Tulowitzski, Sabathia's win seems consistent with the theme of utterly disregarding the postseason in voting. Also, lefty aces are hot. So there you have it. Look how objective I am.


/slips back into Masshole mode
/reads last like 8 issues of Sports Illustrated
/is vindicated



Also, a fun fact: the last time an Indian won the Cy Young, the year was 1972, and his name was Gaylord Perry. Heh. Hehe.



The NL Cy Young winner will not be announced until Thursday, but I'm assuming it will be San Diego's vaguely potato-like Jake Peavy, who had an incredible season that included a 16-strikeout game and an arrest for disorderly conduct at the airport. Brandon Webb is another candidate, although his numbers (18-10, 3.01, 194 K's) simply don't compare to Peavy's (19-6, 2.54, 24o (!) K's). I guess Brad Penny could also be a contender, assuming that dating TV actresses and being less of a waste of space than Jason Schmidt are voting categories. In which case I should also be on the ballot.

In praise of meaty quarterbacks

I'll admit: I was prepared for a dull weekend of football as my beloved Patriots took a well-deserved bye from whomping on the entire rest of the NFL. But, lo and behold, the gridiron rose to the occasion and offered up enough excitement to carry me through, ensconced as I was on my couch underneath my comforter and a pile of used Kleenex. Colds suck. However, I will say that being sick this weekend and having to spend my entire Saturday indoors enabled me to justify watching something like 9 consecutive hours of college football on Saturday. Hooray!

First came the unbelievable Illinois upset of previously undefeated Ohio State. I love good underdog wins, so I'd be excited, except for the fact that the guy I went on the WORST DATE EVER with this spring went to Illinois and I am now permanently biased against anyone affiliated with said university. Yes, this is the guy who was rude to the waitress in front of me, then snuck away later to give her his number, then asked me to take off my hat "so he could see if I was actually cute or not." Oh, and then told me I had terrible taste in movies because I hadn't seen "The Grudge." Oh, and was responsible for the following exchange, which happened at the very beginning of the date and pretty much set the tone for the rest of the evening:

Him: (orders two beers)
Me: (reaches out to take one) Thanks.
Him: Oh, these are both for me.
Me: (laughs, assuming he's kidding)
Him: (looks at me meaningfully, then sips slowly and deliberately from each of the two beers he's holding)
Me: Uh. Right. I'll just go ahead and order my own, then.

Yikes. Painful memories. Sorry, Illinois... you're on my shit list. Permanently.

Afterwards, I watched Florida State blow it in the 4th to lose to Virginia Tech, 40-21, then switched to BC vs. Maryland, which turned into the Eagles giving up another super-disappointing loss and everybody in Boston remembering why we never bother giving a crap about college sports outside of the Beanpot. Sorry, Matt Ryan.

I have to admit, though, that my attention was not focused on the BC game: on another field, miles away, my beloved Tim Tebow was having a career game in what is already a career season for the U of F sophomore.



The Gators rolled over South Carolina 51-31 as Tebow scored 5 rushing touchdowns (nice themed color emphasis there, eh?) and passed for 2 more for a total of 424 offensive yards. Dear lord in heaven. This kid is a beast. I think there may have been a few other players on the field for Florida, but you wouldn't know it; every time the Gators got within the 10-yard line, they pretty much had only one play in mind: let Tim Tebow run it in. I love this kid. I love watching him play. I love watching him drink from those little Gatorade cups with his big, hammy hands on the sideline. I hope he wins the Heisman for this year and every subsequent year, in perpetuity.


Speaking of quarterbacks I love, and transitioning seamlessly to pro football, HOORAY FOR REX GROSSMAN! It pained me so much to see my favorite (despite the incessant mocking I get) QB benched earlier this season, and nothing was sweeter than his spectacular 59-yard pass to Bernard Berrian with 3:11 left in the 4th to lift the Bears over the Raiders; the Bears would go on to win 17-6. I'm so happy. And so is Rex. Look at him smiling up there. Look how cute he is. Doesn't that make you happy?

Ahem. In other NFL news: the Colts LOST AGAIN, which I'm pretty sure was in some way caused by Randy Moss; Matt Hasselbeck looked decent on MNF; Adrian Peterson got hurt but will probably only miss one game; everyone trying to convince you that Cowboys-Giants would somehow be an interesting contest was proven wrong; Brett Favre remained successful in his season quest to prove he can still be a dominant QB as Packers fans remained completely batshit. (Yes, the story is old, but they're still batshit over there.)

Oh, and the Celts are 5-0 as of Saturday. Does winning 82 games sound like an unreasonable goal to anyone? It shouldn't.

Wow... I got through an entire post without mentioning baseball... wait! Crap! Does that count? Does mentioning that I didn't mention something count as a mention? Does mentioning that I mentioned not mentioning something, but without specifically mentioning it, count as mentioning, or mentioning a non-mention?

If you can explain that last sentence to me, you win half of a curried tuna sandwich. Or a packet of Splenda.

Trade rumors: Fun for the whole family!

I've resorted to following the GM meetings and associated trade rumors obsessively this week, only because my love life is so very, very stagnant and devoid of activity. (Unless I sneak over to go make out with my neighbor again, which, let's not lie, I will most likely do, but I won't feel good about it.) But, hey, the exciting world of baseball trades is just as fun!


Lots of rumors flying around now that Theo has concluded his meetings, and, surprisingly, A-Rod has drifted to the back burner. There's still the big question of Lowell, of course, and his decision to take or leave what is reportedly a 4-year deal with Boston will affect whether or not Boston decides to go after Miguel Cabrera. Cabrera is a powerful hitter (.320, 34, 119) but drew lots of raised eyebrows when he returned from last year's offseason significantly fatter than before. Maybe he could explore the Curt Schilling route and work weight incentives into his contract? Heh. Hehe. Fat kids are funny. The other, more scintillating, rumor is that the Sox may be considering a trade for either Dan Haren or Johan Santana. Quite frankly, both of those rumors turn me on. Santana deserves to be on a team that will actually give him run support. Dan Haren is a badass. The current Sox rotation is exciting, yes, but very young, and while a trade for either Haren or Santana would surely mean giving up either Jon Lester or Clay Buchholz, the thought of following Beckett with a Haren or a Santana in the #2 is enough to get a girl pretty excited. Phew, is it hot in here?


Blah blah Brad Lidge blah blah. Yeah, the way to escape your demons is to move to the losing-est team in the history of baseball. Good luck with that. And, in other exciting news, rather than attempting to trade for some big names or explore new management possibilities, Tampa Bay has apparently decided to forgo off-season trade maneuvering altogether and simply change their name and brand identity as the surest route to improving their ballclub. They will no longer be called the Devil Rays, but simply the Rays, and will be sporting the spiffy new logo below:

Um, yay, I guess? I mean, clearly SOMETHING needs to change down there. [Note: That's what she said.] Maybe this is the magic bullet the hapless Devil Rays -- oh, excuse me, the RAYS -- need. I was going to suggest something like signing some damn pitching, or at least teaching your players how not to get thrown out of games, but what do I know? At least one Ray is excited about the change:

"It feels like a fresh start," left fielder Carl Crawford said. "It's like that feeling of going to school on the first day. You get to wear the new uniforms. It feels good. You know what they say, 'You play like you feel.' We feel good, we look good, so hopefully, we'll play good."

Crawford has seen his share of losing, but with the team the Rays had at the conclusion of the 2007 season, he has a renewed optimism about the direction of the franchise, and said that he felt the changes reflect that new direction.

"Most definitely, I'm the most optimistic I've been," he said. "I get to play beside B.J. Upton every day, hopefully hitting in front of him, and Delmon [Young], too. If you can't get excited about playing in that outfield every day, then you don't have a pulse. ... I think this is the best potential we've had since the club came into existence."

Bear in mind that this "potential" Crawford is referring to has nothing to do with any actual trades or changes in the front office. This is strictly based on the name and logo change. Maybe this will become like one of those heartwarming family movies, where the Rays will play really well and make it to the playoffs with their new uniforms, but then something terrible will happen to the new uniforms and they'll have to play in Game 7 of the World Series without them, and they'll be terrified that they can't win without the uniforms, but then Wade Boggs or someone will show up and reveal that IT WASN'T THE UNIFORMS, THEY HAD THE POWER INSIDE THEM ALL ALONG and they'll win the Series and everyone will learn a valuable lesson about life and love.


But probably not.

In bed with Scott Boras: Always use protection.

Yes, it's that time of year again: Theo Epstein and Scott Boras are starting negotiations and playing footsie under the table down in Orlando. The big story here, obviously, is the possibility that the Sox might sign A-Rod... they're one of only a handful of teams capable of picking up such a huge contract, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised to see Epstein make the deal. It's no secret that Epstein won't hold on to a championship team simply for the sake of keeping everybody together. The question is what will eventually trump what: Boras' insistence on getting his purple-lipped client a raise, or A-Rod's desire to play for a powerhouse team.



The other issues on the table are (a) Mike Lowell, whose coming or going is most likely dependent on the A-Rod deal (the Sox have reportedly expressed interest in a 3-year deal for Lowell); (b) Jason Varitek, another Boras client who may be looking for a contract extension; and (c) Eric Gagne, also a Boras client, who the Sox would have to be blind, deaf, and suffering from some sort of debilitating mental affliction to re-sign.

Epstein said in the afternoon that he was going to meet with Boras "to talk about [Eric] Gagné and his whole list of free agents. He's not a great fit for our bullpen right now, but I wouldn't rule anything out."

Not a great fit for our bullpen in the same way that chlamydia isn't a great fit for my lifestyle right now. Oh, Gagne, Gagne. I supported the Sox dealing for you over Jermaine Dye. I heralded your arrival in Boston. I even defended you when you immediately started eating it on the mound. You've just put me through too much. I can't do this anymore. Take your greasy hair and your stupid goggles and beat it.



Oh, and Scott Boras? You're still creepy.

Celts now 3-0, Boston fans still enjoy ridiculously inflated senses of self-worth

To be honest, I was kind of hoping the C's game against Denver last night would give me something interesting to comment on, but the Nuggets wound up getting absolutely thrashed and I am left with no choice but to perpetuate the never-ending douchebaggery that being a Boston fan entails these days. In case you missed the game (which you probably did because the only channel even showing it in Boston was Comcast Sports for some reason), here's a quick summary:

1. Boston scores.
2. Denver takes it down the court, shoots, misses.
3. Kevin Garnett rebounds, makes everyone around him look small and helpless.
4. Boston takes it back down, scores.
5. Carmelo Anthony fouls someone.
6. Celtics fans drink more, cheer for Kevin Youkilis.
7. Boston scores again.
8. Bob Cousy makes reference to Togo Palazzi. (Fun fact: Back in the day, when I was railroaded into playing basketball since I was one of those awkward chicks who hit 5'7" by 6th grade, I went to one of Togo's basketball clinics. I'm awesome!)
9. Boston scores again.
10. Eduardo Najera checks reflection in shiny surface of parquet floor to ensure that hair is still properly coiffed.
11. Boston scores.
12. Lather.
13. Rinse.
14. Repeat.

The final score was 119-93, and even that isn't really indicative of how much of an ass-whomping this game was. The Celts led 77-38 at the half and enjoyed a lead of 41 at one point. Whoo baby... BOSTON!

Incidentally, the Bruins lost to Buffalo in overtime last night, so there you go. We too suffer setbacks and face hardships.

Question of the day #1 -- Which is actually more asinine: to be a douchebaggy Boston fan, or to complain about how you really WANT not to be a douchebaggy Boston fan, but can't HELP it because your teams are all just so GOOD? (Obviously, I'm a fan of the latter.)

Question of the day #2 -- Should I buy this? (Correct answer: Yes.)

The passing of an icon

A moment of silence, if you will, for the passing of the great Lillian "The Fabulous Moolah" Ellison, a female wrestler who was the first woman ever to be inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame. Ellison, who passed away yesterday, was 84. She started wrestling at age 25 (this is during the 40's, now, so she was bucking more than a few gender stereotypes along the way) and won her most recent title at the age of 76. Originally billed in the ring as "Slave Girl Moolah," Ellison eventually rose above those humble beginnings and changed her name to "The Fabulous Moolah." Yes, she was a true pioneer who paved the way for today's superstar female wrestlers like Chyna and, um, Chyna.

Seriously though? This broad sounds like the coolest woman ever. I can only aspire to one day be cool enough to pull off the nickname "The Fabulous Moolah." Not even just "Fabulous Moolah." THE Fabulous Moolah, bitches. Now that's a woman I can look up to. Sorry, Hillary and Sandra Day... I've found my new role model.

God, I feel so inspired.

Time for something funny

I'm really struggling to come up with anything funny to say. Blame it on the rain.

This is... kind of ridiculous, if not ACTUALLY funny. Apparently the coach of some high school girls' soccer team go so pissed off at his opponents that he could think of no other way to express his rage than to moon them.

A youth soccer coach has been suspended for allegedly going to the middle of a sports field in Windsor after a contentious match, pulling down his pants and exposing his buttocks to his opponents - a team of 14- and 15-year-old girls, authorities said Sunday.

I appreciate the story simply because -- and I think I'm not alone in saying this -- I have always looked forward to the day when sports coaches seek to resolve their disputes not by throwing out the challenge flag or thoughtlessly chucking pieces of the field at officials, but rather by baring parts of their bodies for all to look upon. I'm sure the refs would have stopped making all those damn pass interference calls on Sunday if they had been subjected for even one moment to the sight of Belichick's sweating, linty backside.





And a CURT SCHILLING UPDATE: Schilling has been offered a 1-year, $8 million deal that includes $2 million in "weight incentives." In other words, he gets extra money for not being a fattie. Will the promise of all that extra money be enough to pry the Triple Dip Strips out of Schilling's hand and get him onto a treadmill? Only time will tell...