August 2008
Rally Mohawk
I’m feeling a little better about how the Sox are playing lately. But with a lot of injuries, new faces, and 6 games left against the Rays (who seem to never lose), the Sox still have a lot of work ahead of them. That’s why I’ve put on my rally mohawk. I’m not going to cut my rally mohawk until the Sox clinch a post-season berth. I’ll keep you guys updated on my rally hawk which grows fast!
Feast hard,
Big Pupi
R.I.P. Yankees
It’s time for the Red Sox to go on a little winning streak and put a nail in the closing coffin of the Yanks. With 35 games left and the Rays, White Sox, and Twins to worry about, we can’t let the Yanks back in this thing. Here comes the Reaper:
Get Well, Yaz!
Carl Yastrzemski was great before my time (I’m 5), but my human told me that when he was a kid, his dad (my grandhuman) took him to the game the Sox retired Yaz’s 8 in 1989. Yaz is my grandhuman’s favorite player. He told me that Yaz was a hoss, stronger than Mariusz Pudzianowski and faster than Brad Keselowski. Apparently, when Yaz won the Triple Crown, all of America had a huge celebration and feasted hard on Yaz bread, Polish sausages, and pierogies for 8 days straight. A feast this large was not seen since the colonies found out that Pulaski was coming over to fight in the Revolution. All I know is that Yaz sounds awesome and I wish I had the chance to see him play. I hope he gets better fast. We could really use him in the race for the Playoffs!
-Big Pupi
A Profile in Feasting: Michael Phelps
I have a ton of respect for some of the greatest human feasters of all time, such as hot-dog eating champion Joey Chestnut and clutch-hitting champion David Ortiz. Today, I’d like to profile another great feaster, Michael Phelps. How do you think he won all those gold medals? Hardcore feasting, of course.
First of all, Phelps wakes up earlier at 4:30 AM to make sure he has enough time in his day to consume 12,000 calories. Plus, early morning is the best time to throw down an enormous feast. Phelps’ breakfast consists of 3 sandwiches, 5 omelets, some grits, 3 pieces of French toast, and 3 pancakes. Tasty. Lunch is a little on the light side, featuring 1 pound of pasta and 2 sandwiches. Phelps’ later eats another pound of pasta and a whole pizza before bed time. Some people say Phelps is like a fish. But he eats like a whale.
I figure I could eat that much, but my humans never let me. How am I supposed to win a gold in the doggie-paddle if I don’t start eating like Phelps, you stupid humans! 5 omelets, please. Stay-tuned next time when I profile the next great American feaster.
-Big Pupi
Lowrie Passes Lugo in RBIs, but not Errors
Jed Lowrie is really starting to hit his stride now that he’s settled in playing everyday since Lugo has been on the DL:
Jed Lowrie: 122 at-bats, 28 RBIs (6 in the last 3 games), 0 Errors
Julio Lugo: 261 at-bats, 22 RBIs, 16 Errors
So Lugo can play third on days that Casey sits (that sounds dangerous) or maybe fill in at SS once in a while for Lowrie (but we have Cora to do that) or come in as a defensive replacement (only if we have a 10 run-lead). There is really no other way to slice it, Tito can’t go back to Lugo until we clinch a Playoff berth. The numbers don’t lie.
Red Sox Poems
By popular demand, all of Big Pupi’s best Red Sox Poems in one post:
Ode to Manny
by: Big Pupi
Manny, oh Manny, you’re a real bad man-
You jumped in the stands and high-fived a fan
After making a catch with your back to the plate
Then threw the ball in at an astonishing rate
And turned a double-play with Dustin Pedroia-
You never talk to any reporters
Except Jose Mota after that game-ender
That landed on the Pike off some guy’s fender.
You stood like a statue just watching it sail
In the Angel’s coffin you pounded a nail.
You bat over .300 like every year straight
Some pitchers you face just accept their fate
And intentionally walk you or throw inside
Like Kyle Farnsworth, but he can’t hide
From your devastating stare and loaded-up bat,
How do you fit all that hair under your hat?
You go in the Monster to take a leak,
When August comes you’ll hurt your oblique.
But that’s okay because you deserve the rest
Come Playoff time to be at your best
And show everyone that the Playoffs are here
By blasting homeruns with your arms in the air.
Ode to Jacoby Ellsbury
by: Big Pupi
It’s time for an ode to the man named Jacoby
Who runs faster than Flash, which is made by Adobe
He should be an All-Star, just like Fukudome
He won me a taco, that’s why he’s my homey.
He steals bases like a thief in a bandana,
Faster than a gazelle from the African savanna
Robbing the Rays down at Tropicana-
I’m glad we didn’t trade him for Johan Santana.
Part Native-American from the Pacific Northwest
Since coming to the Bigs he’s really progressed.
And in the 2007 Playoffs he passed the test-
Now all the ladies want to show him their chests.
He worked hard all winter and put on some weight
Spending some time in the Beaver State
I want to put “JACOBY” on my license plate,
Man do I savor that taco I ate.
So here’s to Jacoby, the future of the Sox
He’s faster and sleeker than an Arctic fox
Stronger and works harder than a farming ox,
And one day we’ll see him on a Wheaties’ box.
Ode to Kevin Youkilis
by: Big Pupi
Kevin Youkilis, you’re a pretty good guy
Trying to stay in when hit in the eye
In between innings while warming up;
At least you didn’t get hit in the cup.
And the day before you had a walk-off blast
That in 13 innings moved the Red Sox past
The Cardinals who we smoked in ’04
When you were just getting you foot in the door.
You moved to first base and you really perspire
You play every day, but never seem to tire,
And for 238 games you didn’t have an error-
Can Lugo say that? The answer is never.
Once in a while, you’ll get really mad
And throw stuff around the dugout a tad,
But that’s because you play so intense
Ripping line-drives over the fence,
Walking so much you’re like always on base,
Growing a small rodent on your face.
Getting all dirty and not taking a bath,
Using Gatorade coolers to take out your wrath.
Youk, you wear emotion all over your sleeve-
Helmets and shin-guards you love to heave.
Thanks Kevin for playing so hard-
You’re dirty before stepping onto the yard.
And we count on you to handle that throw
That’s sailing off-target from Julio Lugo.
Ode to Mike Lowell
by: Big Pupi
Here’s to the World Series MVP
Some call him ‘Mike’, some ‘Grizzly’
Know who he really looks like to me?
That guy from ER- George Clooney!
The Sox took him on as an add-in for Beckett
And ever since he’s been great with the mitt.
These guys always think that they’ve got a hit
Then Lowell steps in and makes them sit.
Not just a glove, but a force at the plate-
I gotta get me some of what Mike Lowell ate
Last year when the season was getting late
And since he’s been off the DL in ’08.
And people forget he brings the Sox together,
Looking like a fisherman hit by bad weather
And growing on his face some sort of heather;
Blasting home runs and flashing the leather.
Did you know that Lowell’s from San Juan?
And looks like he’s related to Genghis Kahn.
Baseballs aren’t the only thing he’s beat on-
He crushed cancer like it was a Bon-Bon.
Mike Lowell is a beast and no one can deny
And shaving cream he will never buy-
You won’t ever see him wearing a tie.
Here’s to Mike Lowell, a stand-up guy!
Ode to Dustin Pedroia
by: Big Pupi
But you lick your lips when you see that high-heat
And turn it around back into the seats.
You suck up ground balls as if you’re a Dyson,
Good thing that you’re bald ‘cuz you’d surely get lice in
Your hair from rolling around in that dirt,
Too bad for the guy who must clean your shirt.
And out in the field you wear lots of necklaces
And dive for ground balls with remarkable recklessness.
You play cribbage with Francona but he always defeats you-
You run so hard, a fielder’s throw rarely beats you.
And in 2007, you were Rookie of the Year,
But accolades like this are not what you care.
You care about winning and swinging so hard
And helping RemDawg sell his no-hitter scorecard-
Like that game when the O’s got no hits off Clay
And your grab at second was the play of the day.
When Pedroia is up, there’s about to be a rally
‘Cuz this kid from ASU don’t play like no Sally.
by: Big Pupi
Arlen Specter, I hate you so-
The Pats are cleared, just let it go.
Still you sit in DC and complain,
The Rams lost ‘cuz Warner was lame.
And how will you prove the Eagles were taped too?
If you thought they could win, you’re missing a screw.
In Super Bowl 39 with your buddy T.O.
And Donovan McNabb who can’t even throw.
You wanna play a game, well Bill is prepared
And if I were you, I’d be pretty scared.
‘Cuz he’s been taping you for the last 4 years
To expose your weaknesses and your fears.
He’ll beat you bad just like all the others,
Except for those pesky Manning brothers.
Bring it, Specter.
by: Big Pupi
Oh, Julian it’s so sad to see you go,
Designated for assignment by Tito.
Your antics are what we’ll miss the most
So this is why I raise a toast!
To the man who let Manny rub his head-
Your sinker looks like it’s filled with lead.
You point at infielders as they’re making plays,
You punched Joey Gathright of the Rays.
A true team leader in the dugout,
You come and pitch when the game’s a rout.
You broke your hand on a bullpen phone,
Were sent to anger management all alone.
Now you’re gone, maybe back to the DR
Perhaps to become an adult film star.
So angry and so happy all together
You came on the scene like tornado weather.
Now as you leave, you seem so calm
The Red Sox will truly miss your arm.
Ode to Kevin Millar
By: Big Pupi
Back in the day you said “Cowboy, Up”
You caught my eye when I was a pup.
Then you ate wings from KFC
And I almost jumped right through the TV.
And people forget on the brink of defeat
When Dave Roberts saved the Sox with his feet
That you were the one for whom he pinch ran
And that was when the comeback began.
And then you were gone way down the coast,
But miss the days you loved baseball most.
Blasting home runs and raining down hits
You led a band that they called idiots.
A Texan who was Born in the USA
The faithful hope there will come a day
When Number 15 hangs up there with 8
And generations will know that Millar was great.
Red Sox Acquire My Long-Time Nemesis, Paul Byrd
I was having a great day today feasting on raw meat and playing at the Bark Park. Then I checked my email and, to my amazement, saw that the Sox had acquired my long-time nemesis Paul Byrd. Now I have hated Paul Byrd ever since the first day I saw him, perched on a branch in my backyard, nibbling on some sort of seed. He flew away, but being a birddog and able hunter, I vowed to someday catch this creature. And then I saw him pitch in the ’07 Playoffs and realized that he throws like a turkey, even though he is actually some sort of large water fowl. Soon after, word came out that he got caught taking HgH. No wonder he was too fast for me to catch!
And now he’s on the Red Sox. Being a Sox fan, I guess I have to welcome him to our team. In fact, I’d like to invite him over for dinner if he’s interested. And I’d like to offer him some advice as he joins our team. Lay low, Paul Byrd. The Red Sox are like a bird-hunting All-Star team. Timlin, Beckett, Papelbon. It’s like birds have no chance. One thing is for sure, I’ll be intently watching every single pitch Paul Byrd throws the rest of the season, occasionally licking my TV. Paul Byrd in a Red Sox uniform, feathers and all. I never thought I would see the day.
Byrd-Hunting
-Big Pupi
Red Sox Aquire Paul Byrd
Paul Byrd is tasty. Hopefully Mike Timlin won’t accidently shoot him while hunting.
-Big Pupi
Sox Come to Town for My Birthday
Yup, today I am 5 years-old! That’s 35 in dog years, which means I can run for President. Of the United States. The Red Sox decided to come to Chicago to visit me for my birthday. Mike Timlin is taking me out for a hunt after Sunday’s game. As for presents, I saw some Red Sox-White Sox tickets on the counter that I am expecting my human to give to me when he gets home for work. Unlike Fenway, I am allowed into US Cellular Field.
Red Sox and feasting. That’s what birthdays are all about!
-Big Pupi
What’s Julio Lugo Been Up To?
So I gave my buddy Lugo a call the other day to see what he’s been doing in his spare time on the DL. Unfortunately, he didn’t answer my call, perhaps because he saw “Big Pupi” on his caller ID and thought I was going to heckle him. Or maybe my call didn’t go through because I was trying to call him from a stuffed dog toy. Either way, I think I have a pretty good idea of what Lugo’s been up to:
1. Furiously sticking pins in a Jed Lowrie voodoo doll (it’s not working, Lugo)
2. Trying to get a spot on the Dominican Republic women’s gymnastics team (although the right weight, Lugo is not flexible enough)
3. Consistently blowing it in clutch situations around the house, such as failing to make it to the stove before the water boils over
4. Bobbling his breakfast, resulting in broken eggs all over the floor
5. Collecting his $9 million dollar paycheck
6. Letting Manny fly off the handle and get traded because he wasn’t around to keep Manny in line
7. Searching for his long lost little brother Ruddy Lugo- Julio finds Ruddy pitching for Triple-A New Orleans and goes down to see him, but like a routine grounder, Julio just misses Ruddy as he is called up to the Mets because Billy Wagner is injured
8. Throwing a Frisbee to his dog, not reaching his dog with Frisbee
9. Going to counseling for anorexia
10. Watching “So You Think You Can Dance?”
-Big Pupi
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