Saturday, October 31, 2009

Halloween with the Heathens

Following the last 8 hours of a 48 hour work week, I flew the 10 miles across town to get to the church in time to help Ciera run the Dragon Slide ride for the Fall Carnival we always put on. While I was in my customary blue jeans and Sox cap, Sissy was rocking her Twister costume this year. She's 11 going on 35 so there probably won't be too many more Halloweens with her dressing up so I'm gonna enjoy them while I can.

Got a quick, long distance shot with my phone of Ang and The Terrible Two on the Ferris Wheel. Naturally, Trot tried to climb out while it was stopped at the top; Ang looked like a pig wrangler trying to keep him from jumping out.

Finally, the Dark Lord of the Sith and his loyal Storm Trooper; Rakes is pretending to cut Trot's head off while Trot cheerily yells "CHEESE" at the top of his lungs.

Actual conversation from earlier in the week with Rakes:

Me: "Why don't you guys want to be Han Solo and Luke Skywalker?"

Rakes: "Those are the good guys, Dad. We want to be the BAD guys."

Yep. That's my boys.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Cliff Lee is Neo.

Favorite image from the World Series so far?

Cliff Lee picking this line drive, BEHIND HIS BACK, mind you.

1-1 headed to Philly tomorrow.

Hopefully Cole Hamels remembers he's pretty flipping good.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

That is one magic Mango Tree.

Whether he's sitting under a mango tree or throwing 117 year old Don Zimmer to the mound in some weird sort of bull fighting move, Pedro Martinez has never been boring. From talking about drilling the Babe in the posterior to calling the Yankees "His Daddy" Petey has been the proverbial thorn in the Yankees side.

Tonight? We got 6+ innings, 2 home runs allowed, 8 K's and the Yankees leading 2-1 when he left which has turned into 3-1 Yankees in the bottom of the 7th inning.

Which sort of blows my dream of the Phillies up 2 games to none heading home, but there's more baseball to be played.

Ya' did good, Petey.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

I've Never Been Much Good At Goodbye

I first met my friend Andy in Baltimore in 2007, where a handful of us met up before a game against the Orioles. I liked him on the spot.

So did Rakes.

Even though he's only 6, Rakes has this inner radar/BS detector that I've never seen in someone so young. He can instantly decide whether he thinks someone is real or if they are putting him on, from co-workers to people at church to some random kid he meets at the park.

He took to "Mr. Andy" from the get go.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about Andy. How the love of the Red Sox started a friendship between a rugged carpenter from Maine with worn callouses on his hands and an aversion to air conditioning and a southern boy who can't screw in a lightbulb and is all about climate control. Two men from two totally different parts of the country with two totally different backgrounds became friends thanks to the Internet and the Red Sox.

And a little boy named Rakes.

Believe me when I tell you, Rakes LOVED "Mr. Andy." Loved his long hair, big mustache and "funny voice." After each game with Andy that we saw Rakes would talk the whole way home about when he could see him again, when would he come stay with us and could he go and visit Andy sometime. Rakes never met anyone he didn't know but he's met a bunch he didn't like so this wasn't ordinary behavior from him; he genuinely loved Andy.

Andy died a week ago today at 7:38 a.m.

He was 61 years old.

I'm going to miss my friend. I'll miss talking to him and watching games with him and it's pretty hard to believe I won't see him again. But I'll be forever grateful I got the chance to get to know him and that Rakes did as well.Safe travels, Andy.

And thanks.


Monday, October 26, 2009

I've Lost Him. Again.

Another Monday home alone with Trot.

All the usual stuff; mopping the floors, doing the laundry, picking up toys as fast as he can throw them around, turning around for 2 seconds and suddenly he's gone, off to parts unknown.

Knowing that I've got every possible door locked with a chain at the top does give me at least some semblance of peace, but not being able to find him coupled with his previous history usually makes this a race against time.

Do I find him BEFORE or AFTER the impending havoc?

Today was a new one. I could hear him thumping around but couldn't pinpoint the exact spot due to the washing machine, dish washer, and the television all performing a symphony of unflipping believable annoying background music.

Finally, I opened the door to the closet under the stairs and found this image looking back at me.
Notice the beady little eyes staring out the handle on the right; if he hadn't had his hand sticking out the other side I probably would have missed him. After convincing him that no, he wasn't Batman and no, that wasn't the Bat cave, and yes I really DID know the actual Batman, he climbed out.

Tuesdays with Morrie doesn't come close to Mondays with Trot.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

And I want the rest of you cowboys to know something, there's a new sheriff in town. And his name is Reggie Hammond. So y’all be cool. Right on.

Tonight was movie night and we watched an Eddie Murphy movie.

If you'd told me 20 years ago that I would sit down with my wife and 3 kids to watch a Eddie Murphy movie together I'd have looked at you like you were from Mars.

"Raw", "48 Hours", "Beverly Hills Cop Part 1 & 2" (Part 3 never happened. You hear me? It NEVER happened.) That Eddie Murphy? He wouldn't have gotten within 3 counties of my kids; now? He's Daddy Day Care, Donkey from Shrek, and he's doing kids movies for petes sake.

"Imagine That" was what we watched tonight, and Ange, Ciera, and Rakes loved it.


I kept thinking about Reggie Hammond and wondering when it was Eddie and I actually got old.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Somewhere the Florida Sun is waiting.

If Halloween coming up in a week and the World Series right around the corner wasn't enough of a sign, this picture was taken by me, in my driveway, at 6:30 tonight.

The Red Maple in my front yard has turned, well, red and just a month ago where all those clouds are would have been the sun setting in the West.

Before Trot can pee in something other than the toilet it'll be pitch dark at 5 p.m., I'll be scouring the Internets looking for Hot Stove rumors and dreaming of Truck Day.

It's the tail end of another baseball year and I'm looking ahead. Again.

Simba and Pumba can go pound sand; the circle of life isn't some quote from "The Lion King".

It's the passing of another year of baseball.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

I need to make a confession

I like Mike Scioscia. Always have; ever since he was catching for Tommy Lasorda and the LA Dodgers he's been one of those guys that as a baseball fan you can't help but like.

Talented and smart, he's gone from being one of the best catchers in the game to one of the best managers. Granted, as a Red Sox fan I've always hated having to watch my team play his; dude steals, bunts, hits and runs, and generally pisses you off more than anyone this side of Billy Martin.

But a guy who will go toe to toe with a legend like Frank Robinson, suspend one of his best hitters for insubordination RIGHT BEFORE the playoffs, and still looks like he could go out and catch 3 innings when you absolutely, positively HAD to have it?

Dude is OK in my book.

Hopefully some enterprising Angel employee has already contacted Kevin Millar and has hired him to travel with the team for the next 2 games for the sole purpose to holler out "Don't let us win tonight!" every 15 minutes for the next two weeks, 'cause I've got a feeling the Angels, currently winning 4-0 in the top of the 7th in Game 5 are gonna make this thing interesting.

EDITORS NOTE: Scioscia just lifted Lackey for Oliver and it's now 4-4. I take back my previous post; he's a dink.

EDITORS NOTE PART 2: Angels back in front, 7-6 in the bottom of the 7th. Dinkage level of Scioscia now in question.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Foiled Again

I'd like to go on the record and say that if I ever run into Richard and Falcon Henne, Rakes and I will distribute a kick to the gibleys the likes of which they have never seen.

Why you ask? It's not our fault his kid isn't creative enough to come up with this idea on his own and the Dad is so starved for publicity that he has to fake a balloon ride across Colorado that destroyed crops and cost law enforcement hundreds of thousands of dollars all because he wants to get his own reality show.

Just yesterday I found Rakes in his room with a hammer, a Bozo the Clown bop it toy, and instructions to build a hydrogen bomb.

Now, because of this self serving dink, REAL psychos like my boys are going to be discredited at every turn.

What really hurts?

He had the names "Chip Carey" and "Tim McCarver" written down on a piece of paper right next to Bozo.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Curt in the Car

Yes, I know every Red Sox fan who has a blog has posted about this today, but after 86 years of futility and heart break I think it'll be OK if I weigh in with my two cents.

5 years ago today, the Red Sox did the impossible. Down 0-3 to their most hated rival, they came back and did what no team has EVER done. 5 years ago the Sox beat the MFY, threw 86 years of black cats and bad luck and bad books by the CHB in the gutter and sent the Yankees into a tail spin they just now are seemingly coming out of.

And in my opinion? It never happens without Theo and company flying to Arizona and having Thanksgiving dinner with a certain loud mouthed Republican who welcomed the challenge of winning it all in Boston. He talked the talk and he walked the walk and him and his flipping bloody sock and cocky attitude helped this team turn the corner from perinnial also-ran to one of the top 6 favorites every year to win it all.

Whether you love him or hate him, the Big Schill helped changed the face of the franchise forever.

You threw it Wicked Hahd when it counted, Curt.


Monday, October 19, 2009

Would the Real Slim Shady Please Stand Up?

He looks like Eminem.

Only 3 feet tall.

Even soccer games take on a new twist when Rakes is involved. 1 goal, 3 break aways that would have resulted in points if Rakes hadn't got over excited and kicked the ball left of the goal each time.

1 knocked over water bottle, 2 instances of trying to line up in the circle when he was supposed to be on the bench, and 1 pack of goldfish crackers consumed in the back seat of the car on the way home.

Hey; nobody left the field bleeding so it all turned out OK.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Sounds Like Life To Me Too

But please God?

Don't let her be two months late.


Saturday, October 17, 2009

I Should Have Bought Stock In Rolaids

As a parent, there is nothing that makes your gibleys lodge in your throat more than not being able to find one of your children. It's like riding a roller coaster, getting to the top of the hill, and then stopping.

Tonight, Ange and Ciera went to a wedding at church, which led to me picking up Frank and Jesse at our friend Cathy's house. (Somehow Angie convinced her to keep the two heathens until I got off work) Since she'd taken them to the park, first thing I did once we got home was introduce the two of them to a tub of hot water and a bar of soap, which led to 37 arguments over how long Trot could stay in the tub and play.

Turns out it was 7 minutes, 'cause the next thing I knew he was standing next to me with a towel over his head, dripping water and mumbling his Sponge Bob bath toy was on the ceiling. Don't ask me how these things just tend to happen.

After getting them in their pajamas and starting the macaroni and cheese for dinner, I made the mistake of deciding to trim my goatee, thinking the dual threat of Max and Ruby on tv plus they both skipped a nap would keep things safe.

3 minutes later I exit my bedroom and see Rakes sitting calmly on the couch doodling on his dry erase board.

Me: Where's Trot, son?

Rakes: Idon'tknow.

Me: Is he in your room?

Rakes: Idon'tknow.

Me: What's your name?

Rakes: Idon'tknow.

He's a huge helper, that first son of mine.

First thing I did was check the door leading to the garage, which led to a brief moment of panic when I realized I hadn't locked the chain at the top. Fortunately, the garage door was still down which meant I at least had him in a contained area. However, 30 minutes later after I'd searched every square inch of the house, including the attic and I STILL couldn't find him and I was wondering if the little sucker had gotten the garage door remote out of my car and headed to parts unknown.

After yelling myself hoarse, checking and re-checking every closet and laundry basket in the house I was THIS close to breathing into a paper bag when I came down the stairs and for the first time, looked to my right under the table we've got behind the sofa.

There he sat. In his Cars pajamas, hair standing straight up while calmly eating his brothers lolly pop. He'd been there the WHOLE time while I minute by minute lost my nerves, cool, and patience.


Trot: Tause I was eating Rakes sucker.


Trot: Is the mac and cheese done, Dad? Me hungry.


Trot: Tause I was eating Rakes sucker. Can I have my mac and cheese now?

Obviously this could have gone on all night. So I did what any self-respecting Dad would do; I threatened him within an inch of his life, got the lolly pop away from him and gave him his mac and cheese.

I'd like to find Dr. Spock and introduce him to Trot.

Friday, October 16, 2009

A Welcome Surprise

Considering I view this blog as a form of therapy combining my obsession with the Red Sox with trying to raise a family and maintain my sanity, it never fails to amaze me that people actually, you know, read it.

Usually it's my family, friends, and some really nice random strangers that have somehow stumbled across this little piece of the Internets and decided to stay for awhile.

Which makes me even more amazed when it comes to my attention (thanks to a link on FB by my buddy Josh and a sarcastic phone call from my boy Jr) that even someone in the media has read it, by accident or not.

The website Boston Sports Media Watch , written by Bruce Allen, actually linked my blog, along I have to add with my good friend Cyn's Toeing the Rubber, in the early part of his 10-15-09 post.

Which is both awesome and slightly scary at the same time. He's got 722 followers, which is about 715 more than me. Considering most of my posts are rambling tangents totally devoid of facts and statistics or raving about my kids latest bathroom habits, and it's even more amazing.

So thanks Bruce, for giving my ego a boost and thanks to you, illegitimate son of Sam Jackson, for the link.

I gotta go now. Trot just got up for the 3rd time since I put him to bed and I heard the words "I need to poop" mixed in.

Note to self: You REALLY have to look into that whole full time Nanny thing a little more closely.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Think I'll Let Them Do The Thinking For Me

My normal workday usually consists of the following things.

1. Me shucking and jiving and trying to convince someone they absolutely, positively NEED a new sofa, bedroom suite, mattress set, or kitchen table. Shoot, I'm not proud; I'll sell a $59 dollar bed frame on credit if I have to.

2. Trying, and usually failing, to complete the USA Today crossword without having to get on the Internet for help. Seriously, I'm supposed to know who the King of England in 1359 was?

3. Worrying about Ciera at Middle School, Rakes terrorizing his kindergarten class, and Trot slipping unknown out of the neighbors house where she's keeping him to "explore" the run off pond at the end of the street.

4. Thinking of various ways to torture Chip Carey. Today I came up with making him listen to calls of his own broadcasts while tied to an ant hill lathered in butter while I yell "FISTED!" into his ears with a megaphone for assistance.

5. Wondering what Theo and Tito have up their sleeve. This past year brought us Rocco Baldelli, John Smoltz, Brad Penny, and mercifully, Victor Martinez. They are the manager and GM of a team with the most insane, illogical fan base in all of sports, have somehow managed to win 2 World Titles in the last 7 years, made the playoffs 6 out of those 7, and STILL people get on the phone, computer, and most likely Western Union to express the desire they both be fired and run out of town.

I had a lot of lucid, well thought out opinions on all this while I was at work, but as per usual, as soon as I arrived home to the sights and sounds of my children destroying tonight's Chinese take out and after baths, books, 4 times getting out of bed, and Ciera freaking out about her math homework those somewhat intelligent thoughts have gone the way of the record player, 8 track, and leisure suits.

All I'm left with is this.

In Tito and Theo I Trust.

Is it really just day 4 of the off season?

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Day 3 of the Red Sox Off Season

I've been thinking.

I think I want to be one of these.

You get to wear a cowboy hat, paint your face like the Road Warriors, and slap bulls in the face.

As a bonus? You get paid for it!

There is no way I'm gonna make it until pitchers and catchers report.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things

Now that the season is officially over and I've ran through all stages of grief in about 48 hours, I thought I'd post some of the images that I'll remember about the 2009 Red Sox season.

Almost nothing beats Spring Training. Brand new start, hope is in the air, and millions of us live and die by what the Class A squad does against the Yankees on March 7th. Yes, I need help.
Opening Day. NOTHING beats Opening Day in baseball except for winning the World Series. Factor in Papi giving Pedie crap about something and everyone else cracking up?


Josh Beckett meeting the leader of the Free World. The look on Youk's face combined with Beckett's liberal use of the F Bomb makes me wonder if we narrowly avoided an international incident.

Rakes doing his best Babe Ruth and calling his shot in a whiffle ball game at my Mom's around the 4th of July. Good Lord; he's the spitting image of me at that age. I hope he inherits my love of the Red Sox and somehow manages to avoid reform school. And I'll take one out of two.

In May I got to make my 3rd pilgrimage to New England with a stop in Vermont to stay with Rob and Jane. I couldn't have drawn up two better people or two better friends if I'd tried.

Once I arrived in Boston the SG crew hooked up where I was reunited with my long lost brother Josh and finally met Jr. Let's just say he lived up to the hype and leave it at that. Plus, he's shorter than me so I naturally want him around for my ego. The Three Amigos, only the slightly demented version.

Finally, what would a baseball season be without a Palooza? About 40 of us converged on Au Tua Nua and Paloozed a Saturday away. To each and every one of you that were there, I love ya'll.

'Course you already knew that.

Here's to 2010, another great year for the Red Sox, and another epic Palooza.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Just another thing they neglect to mention in all those "What to expect when you're expecting" books.

When I first opened Rakes closet doors my first thought was "He's finally done it. He's killed something." After I ran yelling from his room and Ange, doing her best "CSI: DALTON HOUSE" impression took over, it was determined it was urine, and not a dead animal stinkifying the closet.

Once the rubber hoses, bright lights, and threats of military school were used to their full effect, turns out Rakes, miffed he had to go to timeout LAST THURSDAY, decided to treat the place where we keep all his clothes as his own personal lavatory.

If you've never smelled 4 day old pee you won't understand any of this; if you have? You're currently asking yourself how I kept from killing him.

Trying to figure out why he did this ranks up there with the following 3 great unanswered questions.

1. Why do they call it a driveway where you park you car and a parkway where you actually drive?

2. Who exactly is the person(s) who decided Joe Morgan, Chip Carey, and Tim McCarver were who the rabid baseball fan wanted to listen to during the playoffs where they HAVE NO CHOICE?

3. Why is Ryan Seacrest on EVERY FREAKING CHANNEL on tv all of a sudden?

At least Trot peed in a vase where you could see it, or just opened the door to the van and went in the garage. I thought they wouldn't ever go where they slept? Rakes just blew 100 years of animal behavioral theory right out the window and into the next county.

I still say there is a sitcom waiting to happen going on here.

I just don't know where to start.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

I had the time of my life.

When the 2009 season ended today, I didn't throw my television out the back door, or go outside and kick the neighbors dog or even stick my head in the oven and turn it to broil like I sort of thought I would.

I watched the Angels make the last out at Fenway, calmly walked down stairs, and played a few games of Hi Ho! Cherry-O with Rakes while Trot and Ange continued their Sunday afternoon nap.

Yeah, it was kind of anti-climatic considering I'm sure most people had visions of Tony Montana at the end of "Scarface" flashing through their heads upon learning the season was indeed over. Yes, I wish they'd have won. And yes, I wish they would still be playing instead of me having to contemplate exactly what I'm going to do with myself every night for the next 6 months.

Somehow two World Championships and 6 playoff visits over the last 7 years take some of the sting away. Besides, anyone who'd watched this team over the past 3 months realized they weren't hitting on all cylinders and there way more questions than answers.

Theo and co. have 6 months to try and figure out who to plug where and who to re-sign and I've got the next month to root against the Yankees and cheer for whoever is playing them so all isn't lost.

Congrats to Tito, Mills, Farrell and the entire team for getting this far. We may be saying goodbye to a few like Tek and Billy Wagner and possibly Ortiz and Bay but the exciting thing is who we may be saying hello to come next February in Florida.

Meanwhile, my wife, daughter, and two sons are gonna be pretty thrilled they get Dad back, at least for a little while.

I leave you with this; sometimes it's just gotta be enough.

Another Side Effect of the Playoffs

A trained professional would say the migraine I developed yesterday morning at work around 9:45 that got progressively worse until I found myself in the upstairs off lying on the floor and begging for a bullet, to the ill-conceived decision to drive myself the 8 mile, pot hole filled route home where I barely managed to make it to the bathroom before losing everything in my system but the kitchen sink a sign.

A sign that I'm too old to stay up 'til 1 in the morning on back to back nights during the work week, especially a work week when it's my job to get Ciera and her cousin to Middle School on time. A sign that maybe I'm not cut out for a 6 pack of Mt. Dew before 11 am. Proof that the gray hair in my hair and beard isn't just pre-mature gray but that I am, in fact, old.

Balderdash. Yes, it was hands down the worst headache I've ever had, finally tapering off around midnight while I lay in the bed thanking God that at least I didn't feel like laying down on the highway and letting an 18 wheeler make it feel better. I did manage to keep the tv on in the background where I watched the Dodgers sweep the Cardinals and listened to 3 hours of The Departed on ION tv, which was about 78 kinds of funny; you've never heard the word "fricking" used so much in your life.

After 8 hours of "sleep 15, wake up for 10, fall back asleep" I managed to grab a shower, eat a granola bar in about 30 minutes, sip some Gatorade and miraculously not throw any of it back up. The headache has reduced itself to a small throb and I can look at the tv for about a minute before my eyes hurt. Hey, it's progress.

So I sit here and wait for 12 o'clock. Due or die time at Fenway with Buchholz on the hill and it's win or go home. Good thing is it's not like they haven't been here before, and if they win you may just here the hollering from NC, migraine be damned.

If they don't? I'll be disappointed but I won't tear my clothes and wear ashes on my head for a month. My team made the playoffs again, I made it back to Boston and Fenway and my friends, and after another 6 months my kids still love me and my wife didn't leave me.

So in the end, no matter what, I win.


Friday, October 9, 2009

Raging Against The Machine

Beckett is on the hill and it's 0-0 in the Third.

Yankees/Twins are tied up 3-3 in the top of the 11th with Chip Caray doing his best impression of a blithering idiot with Tourettes Syndrome on TBS.

I have eight 11 year old girls having a sleepover with Ciera and I think I've found a more annoying sound than the one Jim Carey and Jeff Bridges used in "Dumb and Dumber". God help me for saying this, but I think I miss Rakes and Trot.

Me? I'm calm, cool, and collected.

It's the playoffs, baby.

See you on the other side.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

It's Go Time

In roughly 40 minutes Jon Lester will take the mound in Anaheim, CA to start Game 1 of the ALDS and a Nation will be cheering him on.

It takes 162 games to get here and only 11 wins to win it all and for the 6th time in 7 years my team has a shot. As a fan? It doesn't get a whole lot better than that.

I'll spend the game alternating between upstairs on the computer, downstairs on the couch, and standing out of eyesight from the tv in the foyer during critical moments, listening to the commentary while I alternate between prayer and trying not to hyperventilate.

I've got my faded Sox cap on, the playoff beard is rocking with more gray hairs than I remember from last year, and I've got enough Mt Dew in the fridge to keep me awake until 2013.

Get 'er done, Crabby.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Am I Worried?

*Image courtesy of*

Tomorrow night at 9:37 pm marks the start of the 2009 playoffs for the Red Sox.

In times like this I look to Tito to gauge my level of stress; by the looks of this picture it's all in the bag and the biggest thing I should be concerned about is whether I want corned beef or ham on my sammich tomorrow for lunch.

Reason 5,894 I love that man.

Late starts, rally monkeys, thundersticks, and getting by on 4 hours sleep per night for the next month.




Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Yep. It's October.

My stomach hurts, my nerves are fried, and 15 minutes ago I found myself in the foyer muttering under my breath and holding a vacuum cleaner bag in case I started hyper ventilating.

And the Red Sox don't play until Thursday.

The Twins just beat the Tigers in Extra Innings and are gonna be getting on a plane and heading to New York in a few short hours to start the ALDS against the Yankees. In biblical terms, this is the equivalent of a kid with a slingshot and 5 smooth stones facing off against a giant with a big spear and no fear.

And we all know how THAT story played out so keep hope alive.

I've got the playoff beard growing, the Tums in the medicine cabinet, and the psychic hotline on speed dial. Ang has promised to help me get the boys in bed by nine every night, I've pulled out the Trot Nixon jersey and lucky 2004 socks just in case, and our code word this year is "Moonbeam".

If Ang hears this through the door to our bedroom as she catches up on "John and Kate Plus 8" over the next month she knows to 1. Call the Authorities and 2. No matter what; don't open the door.

It's October. It's the playoffs.

It's on like Donkey Kong.

Monday, October 5, 2009

The Other Side of Parenthood

With the Red Sox off until Thursday I was sort of stumped for what to write about today. Then, smack in the middle of reading Rakes his customary 3 books before bedtime, the little sucker went and gave me my topic when he fell fast asleep on the couch.

I realize reading "Giant John" for the 2 millionth time isn't the most exciting thing in the world, but usually getting him to sleep is a tad bit more difficult than getting an actual human being on the line when you call customer service for DirecTV.

But there it is in photographic evidence for all to see.

And since I'm usually writing about someone peeing in something other than the toilet or somebody writing on the wall with lipstick or somebody building a Doomsday Device out of toilet paper and a SpongeBob doll in their bedroom, tonight, thanks to Rakes falling asleep right next to me, I give you the following Top Ten.

Ted's Top Ten Things That Make Being A Dad The Best Job On Earth.

10. Images like the one I posted here tonight.

9. Trot walking into the kitchen, hopped up on gummy bears and apple juice and asking me to "hold me".

8. Ciera, in a room full of her peers, giving me a hug AND a kiss AND saying "I love you, Daddy."

7. Rakes telling me about the toy available with the latest Happy Meal at McDonalds in the same voice Jim Ross used to use when "Stone Cold" Steve Austin was hitting the ring.

6. Watching them walk into church with their heads held high and looking everyone who speaks to them in the eye and not afraid to answer whatever question they are being asked.

5. Rakes singing "I am a friend of God" when he doesn't know I'm listening and me thinking, just for a brief moment, that maybe he'll avoid reform school after all.

4. Me asking Ciera if she's met any boys at Middle School and still getting the sarcastic "Daaaaad". It won't be much longer so I'm gonna enjoy it while I can.

3. Trot and Rakes watching the Sox with me and when someone hits a home run all three of us shouting "YES!" and pumping our fists at the same time. Almost makes a tear come to my eye.

2. The absolute joy in their voices when Ang hits the door after being gone. Could have been all day or could have been 5 minutes, it doesn't matter. And when I hear that sound? It makes me love my wife even more than I already did. 'Cause anyone who can get THAT reaction from MY kids? That is a pretty special person.

1. Checking in on them at night after they've gone to sleep. There isn't a thing on this world, including an ocean sunset, Fenway Park at night, or Derek Jeter dejectedly looking on from the dugout while the Red Sox celebrate, any more beautiful than that.

3 more days. 3 more days.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

It's not how you drive. It's how you arrive.

*Image courtesy of*

95 wins.

A rotating turnstile on the pitching mound with some misses (Smoltz, Penny) and some hits (Wagner, Saito), the proud veterans who are headed into the sunset (Wake, Tek) the young guys with a rocket strapped on their back (Bard, and the two guys in the picture) and the guys rising like the Phoenix from what many assumed was the ashes of their career (Papi, A Gone).

Like Jerry and the fellas used to sing, What a Long Strange Trip it's Been.

After 162 games the year ended like 6 out of the last 7; the Boston Red Sox are in the playoffs and are squaring off against the Angels in round one while the Yankees play whoever wins the Steel Cage Playoff Tuesday night in Minnesota between the Twins and the Tigers.

Come Wednesday, 8 teams will all be 0-0. And in one month's time the World Series Champion will be crowned.

Playoff baseball is here.

And I can't wait to see what happens.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Steve the Ferret. The Rodent version of Mick Jagger.

As you can see by my header, Papi met Steve.

And if you don't know about Steve, he's the Surviving Grady official mascot and he belongs to Kelly at

And short of the Red Sox winning the World Series?

This is the most awesome baseball moment I could ever come up with for the 2009 season.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Just in the Nick of Time

*Image courtesy of*

Welcome back, Daisuke.

You've been missed.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

I See the Future. Sort of.

Ang and the kids are all asleep, it's the witching hour of 9:17 p.m. and I'm watching a baseball game that means absolutely nothing like it's Game 7 of the World Series, so I figured I might as well make my picks for the upcoming MLB playoffs.

Mind you, these are all based on nothing resembling facts, statistics, or common sense but just my gut instincts and all the baseball knowledge I've soaked in over the past 39 years. I should also mention I once thought Gorman Thomas and Greg Luginski were the next "Big Things" so don't bet the mortgage payment anytime soon.

NLDS: Cardinals vs Rockies.

Mind you, this is all based on the Dodgers not gacking up the weekend series against the Rockies but Kanye West is a gazillionaire so weirder things have happened. That said, it's hard to bet against Pujols and Larussa, plus they've got Smoltz and Lugo looking like world beaters so I'm going with the Cardinals in 4. Also, that whole "Rocktober" thing is quite lame.

NLDS: Dodgers vs the Phillies.

Rollins, Howard, Hamels, Manuel, Utley, etc.. vs Manny. Phillies in 5, although part of me is hoping for a Sox/Dodgers World Series and the glass around the press box at Fenway breaks due to the decibel level coming from the Fenway Faithful as they boo Manny out of the park.

ALDS: Yankees/Twins or Tigers.

My heart says Tigers, my head says Yankees. Or maybe that's my stomach revolting against another ulcer if the Sox and Yankees meet again in the playoffs.

ALDS: Sox/Angels.

It's called "Red Sox Dad".

'Nuff said.

NLCS: Cardinals/Phillies.

Phillies. 'Cause when you can rake like that, even Albert Pujols isn't enough.

ALCS: Sox/Tigers.

I can't pick the Yankees. It's just not in me. Although that little voice inside my head is telling me to rent a set of heart paddles, buy a bunch of paper bags to breathe in, and to count on three hours of sleep per night as I sit through a 7 game nut buster of a series with New York.

I hate that little voice.

World Series: Sox/Phillies.

7 games.

4,387 Budweiser commercials.

9,789 times I want to drop kick Buck and McCarver in the gibleys.

47 near heart attacks.

3 Papi home runs and the series winning blast from pinch hitter Jason Varitek.

Sox win their 3 World Series in 6 years.

I'm calling my shot.