The much-anticipated launch of the online literary magazine Please Don’t is upon us. Run by masterminds Scott Stealey and Pete Coco, the mag’s first issue is looking good. Pat Somerville has a great story on there, and I’m looking forward to reading Kevin Clouther’s essay on why Boston loves Kevin Youkilis.
It also marks the debut of my “I Could Punch a Wolf” essay, which should hereby puts to rest the ongoing debate of whether I could ever punch a wolf in the face. It’s all there in black and white. I could.
Congrats to Pete and Scott. The mag looks great.
Being on the road for the last couple of weeks made it difficult to plant myself and watch some Red Sox playoff games. The snippets I did catch, though, were often in bars, so I didn’t have to listen to Tim McCarver and Joe Buck.
Tomorrow night, the Sox and Indians take it back to Fenway, and I have to say, this series has suddenly become a classic. There’s all the intrigue surrounding Manny, which I always love. First it was the Manny arm-raise, that he celebrated after hitting a solo shot to put his team down by four. I’m cool with that. I do the exact same thing when Manny hits a solo shot to put his team down by four. Then there’s his quote, about the Sox potentially losing the series: “There’s always next year. It’s not like it’s the end of the world.” As Soxaholix said, it’s a healthy attitude for athletes. Let the fans wallow in do-or-die-ism. But I think more than that, Manny is acknowledging that the Sox are now a dynasty. They’ve only won one championship, sure, but with Beckett the second coming and a healthy mix of young and old guys, the Sox should be the team to beat for the next few years. I like that kind of confidence.
On top of that, Kenny Lofton is now in full-on veteran prick mode, flipping his bat before he even walked, then flipping it when he did walk, and trying to instigate a brawl with Beckett. On top of that, the Indians had some country singer I’d never heard of ruin the anthem, and it turned out she was Josh Beckett’s ex. Coincidence! They swear!
The Sox need a new rival. Sox v. Yankees is played out. The Yanks are crumbling, A-Rod has sucked them of any postseason animus and his villain status has been reduced to a single, flailing glove slap in 2004. I like these Indians, with their young’uns playing above themselves and their ace in Sabathia suddenly turning into a tragic figure next to the untouchable Beckett. I like that they got irked by Manny. I like that Kenny Lofton is 75 and still can’t control himself. That Hafner is the anti-Ortiz. That Paul Byrd and Tim Wakefield are in a salt-and-pepper beard-off. Let’s bring back some Sox v. Indians antipathy. As all of the pundits like to say, it’ll be good for the game.
