Fenway In The 90's

Creighton Gubanich and The Marlboro Man

2010-11-01T16:35:00.000-07:00

By: Patrick Whittle

On a steamy summer night in 1999, the pride of Belleville, N.J., stepped to bat at McCoy Stadium for the Pawtucket Red Sox. A brawny catcher named Creighton Gubanich, his six-foot-three-inch, 200-hundred-pound frame inspired fear and respect throughout old McCoy – that gem of a ballpark where South Bend Street meets Division Street.

In Section 13 (cheap blue seats, obviously), a bricklayer from East Providence named Vasco Paiva screamed obscenities in Portuguese. (He might have actually just been talking pleasantly with his children).

Across the street in that school parking lot where everyone parks illegally, children put down their crackpipes just long enough to try to hear the crack of the bat.

Atop the outfield fence, that Marlboro Man cowboy sign quivered at the thought of Gubanich hitting a home run right off his face.

On the streets of Pawtucket, the Buzzy’s Peanuts cart guy paused and stopped thinking about whether his child support was late – it was Craighton’s time.

And in the red infield seats, I sat with my dad, brother and some kid from Fairhaven wondering what Creighton Gubanich would do. As it turned out, he grounded to short and dogged it up the first base line. I was bummed – this guy was a hero to me, and here he was ambling up the first base line like a Del’s Lemonade guy on a cold day.

“Leg it out, Creigh!” I yelled at a reasonable volume.

He was out, by probably 15 feet.

“You’re a homo,” my brother said.

“Why?” I replied.

“Because you just yelled ‘Leg it out McCray’ or some gay shit at this minor league game,” he said.

“Yeah Pat that was pretty gay,” said the kid from Fairhaven, who I think now has a Facebook page where he advertises that he’ll come over and clean your poolcage for a fee.

I tried to explain that I think Creighton Gubanich was a good player and could make a decent living in the majors if he hustled some more, but no one wanted to hear it.

And you know what? I still think Creighton Gubanich could have been a good player. He spent eight years in the minor leagues with different organizations before the Red Sox finally gave him a legitimate shot at a big league role, and he made the most of it. In Gubanich’s third major league appearance, the Sox started him at catcher against the Oakland A’s – the same franchise that drafted Gubanich in the sixth round of the 1990 amateur draft. Surely young Gubanich, then a boy of 18, had dreams of playing for the A’s in Skidz and shaving a picture of the A’s elephant into his flattop (it was 1990). But that never happened, and this was his chance to exact revenge.

And he did. In the top of the first inning he crushed a grand slam off of Jimmy Haynes. (It is worth noting that Brian Daubach – from Belleville, Il. – scored on the homer. This marked probably the only time in major league history where two guys whose hometowns have the same name, but are not in the same state, scored on a grand slam.) Donnie Sadler ran for Gubanich later in the game, and he was replaced at catcher by someone named Varitek (speaking of flattops). The Sox would lose the game in extra innings when Tim Harikkala walked John Jaha to force in Tim Raines (speaking of crackpipes) with the winning run.

That game wasn’t the end for Gubanich, who would hit a respectable .277 in 18 games for the ’99 Sox. But he never played in the majors again. His career ended in 2003 with the Double A Chattanooga Lookouts, who have the best hats of any minor league team.

When you think about it, Gubanich’s career is very similar to that of Crash Davis (Costner’s character in Bull Durhan, not the Western Mass. band). Both hit a ton of home runs in the minors (Gubanich hit 155). Both had very brief tenures in the major leagues that lead to great stories (Davis has his stories about being “in the show,” while Gubanich probably bores his family at Thanksgiving every year with the story of his one major league home run). Both made out with Susan Sarandon (I’m giving Creighton the benefit of the doubt here). The major differences are that Crash Davis is made up and that Davis had Nuke LaLoosh (portrayed by Tim Robbins, was way too old to play a young, up-and-coming pitcher in 1988). Gubanich never found his Nuke LaLoosh. Perhaps it could have been Bo Donaldson, who played with Gubanich on the 2002 Columbus Clippers. But it wasn’t.

I’ll never forget Creighton Gubanich, even though he has faded into baseball obscurity. He was the fourth player in MLB history to hit a grand slam in his first hit. Daniel Nava, who turned that trick this year, could be the next folkloric PawSox hero. Only time will tell.

Until then, leg it out, Creigh.

Snap your Fingers, Snap your neck

2009-08-30T09:53:00.000-07:00

The Boston Bruins have stared down many an enemy in their 85 years in the National Hockey League. The hated Montreal Canadiens, a team the Bruins failed to beat in a playoff series for 44 years ending in 1988. Jeff Beukeboom and the Edmonton Oilers, who took a duet of dumps on the Hub’s hockeymen in the 1988 and 1990 Stanley Cup Finals. Sharky McTootherson, the angry mako who preyed upon children in Buzzards Bay during every hockey season from 1955 to 1973.

And Chris Pronger.

“What, Chris Pronger? Surely you jest,” you say. No, sir-ee. Chris Pronger, that native son of Dryden, Ontario who most recently played for the Anaheim Ducks, terrorized the Bruins on many a weekend afternoon with crushing checks, sadistic slapshots and hateful hockeyhair.

In NHL ’94 for Super Nintendo (also SEGA Genesis, hoser), that is.

That’s right – take it from this typist, a veteran of many an NHL ’94 quadruple-header (accompanied with generous amounts of Cheetos and Bubba Cola). Chris Pronger was a straight-up fucker in that game, in which he played defense for the woebegotten Hartford Whalers. You’d play as Adam Oates and the Bruins, breeze through a few games against, say, the Blackhawks and Sabres, and then you’d see the Whale on your schedule. “No sweat,” you’d say. “Not only do they play in the crap-pit that is the Insurance Capital of the World, but they also blow at hockey.”

That’s just what Chris Pronger, or at least his video representative, wanted you to think. The 1993-1994 NHL season was actually Pronger’s rookie campaign, and the game was released in April 1994, meaning the programmers at EA Sports (it’s in the game) had no reason to suspect Pronger would be a bastard on the ice. He did perform admirably that year, playing in 81 games, scoring 30 points and logging 113 penalty minutes. But NHL ’94 treats him like he’s Gordie Howe, surgically attached to Wayne Gretzky, with a bazooka grafted onto his right arm (Pronger is a lefty, meaning he’d need the other arm to shoot and score 700 times on you each period).

In real life, Pronger scored five goals in 1993-1994. He scored five goals the next year, and he’s never scored more than 14 in a single season, which isn’t surprising given that he plays defense. But in NHL ’94 he’s likely to score five goals before you bat an eyelash (in that time he’ll also permanently injure Ray Bourque and earn a five minute major for crafting a nuclear bomb out of Igor Chibirev’s missing teeth).

Don’t get me wrong. NHL ’94 is a great game, Chris Pronger is a pretty decent player and I harbor no ill will against the mid-90s Whalers. But if you want evidence that a video game can make a humble hockey player into a superhuman Satanic cyborg killing machine, NHL ’94 is your game. And Chris Pronger is your guy.

2009-08-04T13:04:00.001-07:00

2009-08-03T10:28:00.001-07:00

THIS IS BOSTON, RESPECT L.A.

2009-07-31T17:21:00.000-07:00

By: Pat Whittle

Fenway Park served as the backdrop for a number of unforgettable baseball moments in the fall of 1975. Bernie Carbo’s game-tying homer. Carlton Fisk’s “wave-it-fair” game-winner. Stupid Joe Morgan’s cheap hit. Larry Andersen’s first appearance at Fenway.

That’s right, Larry Andersen. On the afternoon of Sept. 28, 1975, Andersen – then a rookie pitcher for Frank Robinson’s moribund Cleveland Indians – pitched for the first time at the Old Ball Yard. He pitched two scoreless innings, made Bob Montgomery pop up, and had a hand in an 11-3 Tribe win. But it would be 15 more years before Larry “Sweet Rocket Music” Andersen would cement his Fenway legacy.

It was Aug. 30, 1990, and the Red Sox were about to engage in one of the most lopsided trades in sports history – Larry “Big Unit Train” Andersen for Jeff Bagwell. For the measly price of a goateed first baseman with a taking-a-dump batting stance, the Sox solidified their bullpen with one of the all time Base-Dudes, Larry “Doctor K Cy Young Koufax” Andersen.

Andersen, possessor of a career 3.15 ERA and 758 strikeouts, joined a contending Sox club that had used some of the most miserable relievers in the history of baseball. We’re talking about a bullpen group for whom Dennis “I Struck Out My Grandmother Once Because She Spotted Me Two Strikes, And It Was Still A Foul Tip Into The Catchers Mitt Because I Blow At Pitching” Lamp was considered one of the more reliable options. Stud lefty Rob Murphy compiled an ERA of 6.32 in 68 agonizing appearances. Daryl Irvin, a product of the baseball powerhouse that is Ferrum College, only got into 21 games but still managed to lose four of them. Pawtucket lifer John “No, Not Jon Lester” Leister even got into a couple of games. It was ugly.

But Larry “Tom Terrific Ryan Express” Andersen rode into town like a white knight on his steed, and struck out batter after batter on his quest to lead the Red Sox to a pennant. Setting up for Jeff “Remember When I Robbed That Jewelry Store?” Reardon, Andersen posted a 1.23 ERA in 15 pressure-packed appearances. On Sept. 7 at Fenway, Andersen pitched three near-perfect innings in a game the Sox eventually won in 11 innings on a Carlos Quintana single. Our hero helped preserve a Sox win at Baltimore on Sept. 17, striking out sluggers Sam Horn, Mickey Tettleton and David Segui in one inning. The Man picked up a six-out save at Yankee Stadium on Sept. 21, whiffing Kevin “I Went To A Baseball Card Show In Fairhaven And No One Wanted My Autograph Because I Suck” Maas to end it.

Who knows if the Sox would’ve won the 1990 AL Eastern Division without Andersen, because they took the East by a mere two games. But revisionist historians downplay the contributions of Larry “Halladay Burnett Smoltz Glavine Maddux” Andersen and choose instead of focus on Jeff Bagwell’s later career in Houston.

Let’s not suggest that Larry Andersen never got his due. In 1990, Irish femme fatale Sinead O’Connor scored a major radio hit with “Nothing Compares 2 Larry Andersen.” A year later, Salt-N-Pepa would record a tribute of sorts, “Let’s Talk About Larry Andersen.” John McPhee’s essay “Encounters With the Archdruid, Larry Andersen” continues to be taught in college classrooms to this day, and the 1997 Victor Nunez film “Ulee’s Gold (Was Stolen By Larry Andersen)” drew praise from critics.

But as we approach the 2009 trade deadline, I think back to the 2005 Florida State League Single A All-Star Game, where I watched a tubby, tropical-shirt-wearing Larry Andersen throw out the first pitch. And it makes me weep, just a little.

In Rememberance of a legend

2009-07-31T07:32:00.000-07:00

By: Mike McCarthy

Well its that time of year again in the sports calendar. Training camp is starting for NFL teams everywhere and everyone is full of optimism. This statement is especially true for fans of the New England Patriots, who once again expect to compete for the NFL championship with one of the most explosive rosters in football. These past 8 years have been a charmed time for the Patriots, as the Bill Belichick/Tom Brady combo have led the team to 3 championships and 1 undefeated regular season. But what few people remember today are the true glory years for the franchise, 1999-2001, in which the team exposed to the football world the greatest athlete in the history of North American athletics; Michael Bishop.

The Michael Bishop story takes place in a time of racial upheaval in Boston sports scene. The perennially scrappy white Boston sports hegemony typified by the likes of Tom Yawkey, Peter McNeely, and the 86 Celtics was beginning to become integrated by the forces of progressive society. For the first time ever, non-caucasian citizens were coming to 12 Landsdowne St. to watch a Dominican fireballer named Pedro Martinez dominate the competition and making opposing batters look foolish. A polite young gentleman named Anson Carter was playing left wing on the 2^nd line for the Boston Bruins for god fucking knows what reason. There were even rumors in Peter Gammons’ Sunday Notes column that Red Sox were considering signing Terry Pendleton, the only black 3^rd baseman in major league baseball history, to a multi-year contract. The stage was finally set to break the final, most taboo barrier in sports integration; drafting a black quarterback. So in 1999, local nice guy Pete Carroll decided to select one Michael Bishop out of Kansas State in the 7^th round of the 1999 NFL Draft.

Michael’s path to sports immortality, however, would encounter several road bumps along the way, most notably that of the starting quarterback. Drew Bledsoe, local Everclear fan and Dunkin Donuts ice coffee spokesman, was firmly entrenched as the face of the New England Patriots franchise. Bledsoe’s “aw shucks” good looks and tall drink of waterness combined with a howitzer of a throwing arm were busy putting together hall of fame caliber statistics for a perennially competitive team. To the untrained eye there appeared to be no room for another quarterback on the team, which was perpetuated by the clueless coaching staff who left the greatest athlete of our time to rot on the bench. It would take the combined efforts of linebacker Mo Lewis and Tara Reid’s future boyfriend Tom Brady to finally end the Drew Bledsoe era. In the meantime Michael Bishop put up the following statistics for the Patriots;

Attempts 9

Completions 3

Completion % 33%

TD 1

Interceptions 1

Now I understand what you readers are thinking to yourselves “McCuddy, you cukoo head. Whats so special about that?” Well what the numbers can’t tell you is statistics don’t tell you everything. Statistics don’t tell you how a guy slept the night before. Statistics wont tell you what shirt I’m going to wear tomorrow. And statistics certainly can’t tell you the game to game brilliance that Michael Bishop was able to exhibit for those lucky Patriot fans. To get an understanding of the athletic brilliance of Michael Bishop you need to go no further than to interview callers of the local sportsradio station WEEI during the Bishop era. These blue collar gridiron academics represent the mountaintop of the hierarchy of sports discourse. A representative sample of discussions provoked by collars would include “Guys whats Varitek hittin these days?” , “How bout that Tom Brady, huh?” and “Dude why don’t they bring Trot Nixon back”. These WEEI callers are so integrated with the sports they love that they are unable to manipulate a computer, television, or newspaper to obtain readily available information that instead provokes a telephone call to a radio station responsible for entertaining listeners. Sample audio clips bear out the greatness of Michael Bishop such as Punchy McLaughlin from Charlestown who was quoted in 2000 as saying “Dude they should staht Bishop”. Liam Finnity “Finnah” from Subbury added “Fuckin Bledsoe, he just stands there like he’s in cement, they gotta start Bishop”. Even longtime crank Frank from Gloucester chimed in during the Bishop era in between burps and sneezing fits with “Your sawwwks are never catching the Yankees, Eddie!” You can’t comment on the beauty of the Sistine Chapel by looking at a picture, just like you can’t appreciate Michael Bishop by using statistics. Listening to the fans who were there to experience the magic of Bishop, is like taking a personal stroll the church in the Vatican.

So the end of the Michael Bishop saga comes to an end during training camp in 2001. After throwing a 44 yard touchdown on a hail mary in his first NFL pass attempt, Michael felt as though he had already accomplished everything he needed to accomplish on the gridiron. Much like Michael Jordan leaving basketball to play minor league baseball, Bishop felt he was out of challenges on the football field, and needed to pursue other endeavors to keep his competitive juices flowing. A quick glance at Wikipedia reveals Bishop went on to conquer the Arena and Canadian Football Leagues and happens to be a first cousin of comedian Jaimie Foxx. No doubt that Foxx’s academy award winning turn in Ray is no doubt attributable to the fortunate genetics of being related to America’s greatest living athlete. So although Michael Bishop’s tenure with the Patriots was brief his impact was immense. Since Bishop’s departure, the name Michael has become the most popular boys’ name in America in annual name rankings. Even myself, the author of this article, was fortunate enough to have parents who had the foresight to name him after what was sure to be America’s proudest accomplishment. Even at 6 years old it must have been evident that Michael Bishop was gonna be something special. And to everyone who has been watching since, we can attest that he has been exactly that. Take a bow Michael Bishop, you will never be forgotten.

Fun with Custom Jerseys

2009-07-26T10:17:00.000-07:00

By: Mike McCarthy & Jimmy Flynn

My Night at Fenway Park

2009-07-25T03:23:00.002-07:00

By: Jimmy Flynn

Above is a recent update of the wall at Kenmore Sq's "Mickey D's" bathroom. Don't worry, no one was in there ,so it wasn't gay when I took the pic. From 1999-Present ,this is where I start my night if I'm going to Fenway Park. I thought you were dead, oh well , I guess not. I hope you had a good time at the old ball yard.
Insert my reaction here.

HOLY SHIT

2009-07-25T03:19:00.001-07:00

Some of the Most Irrelevant Moments...

2009-07-22T17:48:00.000-07:00

By: Mike McCarthy

Doug Mirabelli eating Chicken Parm, getting police escorts, or going deep

Doug Mirabelli is the hero of the post 2003 college kid red sox scene, i.e. the mortal enemy of anybody who takes the orange line to fenway or thought Bob Zupcic was a good prospect because he was white and in Pawtucket. Doug Mirabelli jokes are the equivalent to guys who go to bars and quote “Jaggerbombs” from My Shitty Haircut or whatever youtube video everyone is quoting at the beer pong table these days that ruined comedy as we know it.

Drew Bledsoe and Max Lane stage diving at the Paradise to Everclear

Who in the name of God stagedives at an Everclear concert? Does that band even have guitars? Only Drew Bledsoe could up his “bad boy” credentials by acting up at a surf rock concert after splitting a 6 pack with his left guard. According to Wikipedia Max Lane named one his kids Alexis, who I believe is the name of Everclear guy

Bob Ryan threatening to smack TJ and Joumana Kidd

Look at this kids head! Get this kid on MTV after Aeon Flux and the Maxx

Zeke Mowatt showing his Ding-Dong to Lisa Ogden

Bonus points because Zeke looks like Tracy Morgan on steroids, and this was the only significant thing to happen to a team that went 1-15 and caused my mild mannered father to spout out “turn this shit off” by the second quarter 16 different times in 1991

The 1996 NHL all star game in Boston

Does anybody have any recollection of this thing even happening? Have you ever seen any piece of memorabilia signifying this actually in deed even took place? Did Ray Bourque win the accuracy competition? According to Wikipedia Ray Bourque won this game with a goal in the third period. Shouldn’t something like this have been a big deal around here? The only remnant of this event I’ve seen is Sully’s Tap hanging Bourque’s All Star jersey over the bar next to the bartender who drinks there on his off days and mean mugs everybody.

Fox Trax

This technically isn’t a Boston oddity, more of an NHL oddity, but why doesn’t anybody talk about laser beam slapsots and glowing pucks anymore? I remember the Fleetcenter was known to be the first to use the technology which tried to lure casual fans by using Super Nintendo graphics. Youd be sitting there, eating a Gobler from the Montclair Deli watching a great game between the Bruins and the Nordiques and Al Iafrate would take one of his patented slappers from the blue line and then out of nowhere youd see a huge red magic marker line instead of a shot leaving the viewer no idea whether the shot scored a goal, killed Rene Rancourt, or went into the stands. This pile of garbage would be the equivalent of NBA Jam taking over NBA programming and showing Dee Brown on a breakaway jump to the ceiling or explode into flames after shooting a 3. Foxtrax and Scooter the Baseball are two of the most mind numbing things that have happened in the world the last 2 decades in my opinion.

Scottie Pippen signs with the Celtics before 1997 NBA Draft

You forgot about this didn’t you? Pitino had signed on, the Celts (proud owner of a 15-67 the year before) controlled the ping pong balls to get Tim Duncan to go with young stud Antoine Walker, and looked like one veteran player away from being legit contenders. So then Scottie Pippen, runner up to George Muresan to the all-ugly team MVP, starts telling his agent that he’s coming to Boston to show he can win a championship without Jordan. Pippen at the time was criminally underpaid for being as good of a player as he was so the Bulls could afford to pay Jordan the GDP of Uraguay. Reports start surfacing in Boston that Pippen is in the bag and Michael Jordan is thinking about possibly playing here too. The Boston internet of 1997 must have been littered with Angelfire and Geocity sites dedicated to banner 17 coming to Boston. Of course the deals fell through, we lost out on Duncan, and the Marty Conlon era came to a bitter end. Speaking of which…

Ron Mercer

Lets go over what everyone knows about Ron Mercer. He’s black, good player at Kentucky, was drafted 6^th by the Celtics in 1997 Draft. Other than that can anybody state even one casual fact about this guy? From what I remember he was a decent scorer who did little else. There are absolutely no opinions about this guy. You bring up Dominique Wilkins, Dino Radja, or Acie Earl and people start laughing. You bring up Chauncy Billips and people say Pitino got rid of him too soon. With Antoine you say he wasted a lot of his potential. Ron Mercer might just go down in history as the most boring player in Boston Celtic history. He wasn’t the worst player, he wasn’t the best. Wasn’t a bad team player, didn’t get into trouble at the nightclubs, and didn’t do celebrity bowling tournaments. Apparently this was just a guy who showed up at the Fleetcenter at 7:00 PM 3 times a week, scored 15 points, and then went to High-Fi for a slice. Do a google search on this guy and all you will find is stats. No Angelfire pages, archived articles, or commentary. I guarantee this blog will make it into his top 100 google search within a week. What a guy

Robert Edwards breaking his ACL/SAT/Charles MGH/MBTA playing football during the Pro Bowl

Probably the only note worthy event ever to happen during the pro bowl. Young guy, coming off a 1000 yard rushing season, slips on a banana peel on the beach in Hawaii that the Metropolitan District Commision didn’t pick up with a litter stick and basically ends his career. I think we need to help the guy out, from here on out ever single year I will be hosting a pro bowl party at my apartment. People will gamble on things like what direction the QB will throw the ball in, and how many Powerman 5000 albums the white offensive lineman own. This completely irrelevant event will become the party of the winter every year

Mike Greenwell fighting Randy Johnson during Spring Training

The story begins during the summer of 1993, when a young flame throwing Randy Johnson comes to Fenway Park to play competitive baseball for monetary compensation against the local baseball team “The Boston Red Sox”. Mike Greenwell, a mini golf course owner/alligator wrestler with a beautiful swing has a hell of day against the young lefty, getting 4 hits and giving a good natured ribbing to the up and coming star from the dugout when he was pinch run for. Fast forward to Spring Training 1994 when Greenwell steps to the plate against Johnson for the first time since their encounter a year earlier. First pitch misses the Gator’s head by an inch and Greenwell proceeds to charge the mound and beat the ever living hell out of the 6’10 behemoth who would later star in Little Big League and Cy Young Award news conferences. Since this took place in Spring Training, the teams all star representative was Scott Cooper, and Bob Kurtz was announcing everyone forgets about this monumental incident. But believe me in the Tree Rollings vs. Danny Ainge / Ralph Sampson vs.Jerry Sichting / Terry O Reilly vs. Clark Gillis giant vs. little guy fight moments in Boston Sports history, this one tops them all.

Bob Rodgers getting fired from NESN sports desk to coach Silver Lake

Bob Rodgers, a local tub of guts from the South Shore, had what most people in this area consider a dream job, covering Boston sports for the local sports superstation NESN. Bob greeted sports fan every morning in the mid 90s sporting a fresh new suit from the Dedham outlets, a forehead that resembled a drive in movie theatre, and a stomach toned from Feast of the Saints in the North End. But what Bob lacked in the looks department, he made up for with his gregarious personality and playful banter with his revolving door of female cohosts. Although Sportsdesk was a sports show, nothing was off limits to good ol Bob. Bob would comment on his dismay over the rainy weather, the lovely new sweater his cohost was wearing, and often be seen laughing over one of his patented knee slappers when the camera faded to commercial. Now we would say Bob has the life right? So what does Bob do but start blowing off assignments to spend more time coaching Varsity athletics at Silver Lake High School, a south shore breeding ground for prom night rapists and 28 year olds doing keg stands with white hats on. So finally the higher ups at NESN decide “This silly goose can’t make a commitment, we’re gonna have to let him go.” So Bob gets fired and NESN moves forward, providing quality entertainment like Kid N Play tell standup comedy talking about Tom Brady having a Baby Momma and red headed cab drivers yelling at his customers

September 18^th 1993, Yankee Fan defeats Red Sox

1993 was not a good time for the Red Sox or Yankee fans. Red Sox fans were forced to watch a diminutive Spanish man nicknamed “El Gato” squat behind the plate and hit .150 over the course of 400 at bats. Yankee fans were forced to cheer for a 1 armed man and star of the Fugitive Jim Abbott celebrate a no-hitter when all they wanted to do was laugh at his disfigurement. Yes times were bleak. But a mid Septemeber game between the old rivals at least promised to get the old blood flowing again. The Red Sox appeared to have the game well in hand, leading 3-1 at Yankee Stadium with 2 outs in the 9^th inning. Mike Stanley comes to the plate and proceeds to fly out to Mike Greenwell in left field for the final out of the game. However, while the Gator is catching the ball some carpet layer who took the Van Wyk to the game comes out of the barrels of hell in the left field seats and runs onto the field. The man is quickly subdued but the umpires call the play dead, allowing Stanley to bat again. Well of course Stanley singles which leads to an 86 World Series rally which culminates with Don Mattingly getting the game winning hit. Oh yeah and Reggie Lewis died about a month before, fantastic time to be a Boston sports fan.

Patriots draft Eugene Chung

Things were bleak for the Patriots in the early 90s. They are coming off multiple losing seasons, have Hugh Millen as a quarterback, and have only made national media headlines since the 86 Super Bowl for having a chemically imbalanced tight end show his prick to a Herald reporter. Fast Forward to the 1992 NFL draft where the Patriots have an opportunity to upgrade positions of weakness on their roster which included all 55 positions. New Coach Dick McPherson, not to be confused with the porn star from Savin Hill, realizes his most important decision is whom to select with the teams only 1^st round draft pick, the 13^th overall. So who does he select, a southern gunslinger to play quarterback? An outside linebacker who made quarterbacks tremble with fear? No coach Mac decides to take some gigantic Mongolian of a man who looks like he should be eating sherpas in the Himalaya Mountains instead. Eugene Chung, Eugene to his friends, became the man chosen to save the moribund franchise and nurse it back to health. Amongst Chung’s vast array of talents were preparing Skatwan Chicken on the Wok, Origami decorations, and using his hundred hand slap and flying missle to combat Ken, Ryu, and Blanka. None of these skills however translated to the football field and Chungs career was over within 2 years where quit football to become fellow country mate’s Hideki Irabu’s nutritional advisor.

Children lose their innocence, Jack Clark hits the Moosehead sign

2009-07-20T22:36:00.000-07:00

By: Mike McCarthy in reference to July 31st, 1991
Children lose their innocence in unexpected ways. Some kids find their parents stuffing presents under the tree when they were expecting Santa Claus. Other kids lose it when the family cat dies. Quincy kids lost their innocence by watching members drink grain alcohol while watching the weather channel during Hurricane Bob. I lost my innocence the night of July 31st, 1991 when Jack Clark of the Boston Red Sox hit 3 home runs against the Oakland A's, one of which that hit the Moosehead beer sign roughtly 2000 feet away at the Hotel Buckminister in Kenmore Square.

July 31st was a beautiful summer evening in Boston, a great day to watch the local 9 and take in a ball game. The game was attended by 22,000 assorted cups of coffee from the south shore who got tickets as part of a Mr. Tux prom special and Little Caesars pizza raffles and 2 black guys (1 gentleman who went in the wrong door of the EPMD concert at Venus De Milo and Ellis Burks). Years later fans would reminise about guessing D during Guess the Attendance in the 8th inning, littering the ground with ice cream helmets and scratch tickets, and listening to sheetrockers belch while urinating in the community trough in the men's room. Others will be bouncing their grandchildren on their laps telling them they saw Jaimie Quirk throw out Mike Brumley stealing before they got sent back to the minor leagues for the rest of their lives. And still others will fondly remember the fight in the bleachers between two guys who wanted to start the wave and would later go home and hit their wives. What i remember is seeing the inigmatic Jack Clark hit a ball over the nets of the green monster instead of over the heads of the smiling faces of the Marshfield Hockey Team.

But the ball didn't stop there. It sailed over the heads of the 3 people who lifted weights in 1991 at Gold's Gym. It sailed over a chinese guy in a Herman's Sporting Goods shirt. The ball went so high and so far Sean McDonough had dropped a comb size. Now i know what everyone is thinking out there, "you silly goose, nobody could hit a ball that far." Well usually i'd agree with you, but i challenge you,watch the tape. This monumental game was replayed at Murphy's Twin Shamrock, a local pile of piss in North Quincy almost a year ago during a rain delay. The disinterested bar patrons were mostly oblivious to the game before them except for an elderly gentleman, who happened to be wearing a filthy shirt, watching a Red Sox rally in the 3rd end with a popout. "Fucking Greenwell" shouted the awful man, who had mistaken the game for the current one being rained out, as he returned to his apple pie.

Now i know there are theories that the ball didn't travel as far as i am claiming. Some say shitty TV-38 camera work is to blame for losing site of the ball. Others say Havileck stole the ball. And further few would blame the resolution of their televisions purchased at Apex for losing tack of the ball. But if your a dreamer like me, and you remember the Fenway Park where dreams came true and the games weren't about the baseball, they were about the fights, then you saw Jack Clark hit the Moosehead sign that fateful night.

2009-07-20T18:31:00.001-07:00

Cooch: i need to scan my Green Monster shirt
Cooch: and the underground sox zines they used to sell outside

In Schourek We Trust: A Retrospective on Greatness.

2009-07-20T17:28:00.000-07:00

By: Patrick Whittle
(photo credit: http://images.google.com)

From the first game of the 1901 baseball season to August 5, 1998, the Boston Red Sox were just a baseball club – a ragtaggle band of glove-toting misfits who lollygagged their way through many a sunny summer afternoon at Ye Olde Ballpark.

Then, on August 6 of that august August, the Olde Towne Team entered the SPS era. That’s right. Since Pete Schourek.

Aquired from the Houston Colt .45s for a bag of balls, two coupons for free Wendy’s Chili (the kind you get at Providence Bruins games when they score a goal before the other team) and Terry Shumpert’s phone number, Schourek immediately cemented himself as a fixture in the Boston rotation.

Schourek would post his first and last Boston win of 1998 on Sept. 22, a day New Englanders call Pete Schourek Day, a holiday third only to Patriots Day and Flag Day on the list of Important Fake Holidays that Massachusetts State Employees Get to Take Off. But Schourek, a crafty lefty to rival Tom Glavine, Jamie Moyer or Tom Colicchio, would cement his status as a Sox legend on Oct. 3, 1998.

While the world outside moshed to Floorpunch and bemoaned the comeback of Ricky Martin, Schourek sought to save the Boston season at Fenway Park. The surprising Sox faced Doc Gooden, Bob Feller, Craig Ehlo and the Cleveland Indians in game four of the American League Division Series. The Sox won game one behind Pedro Martinez, but the Indians cheated in games two and three, leaving it up to Schourek to even the series. It was impossible to start Martinez on short rest because he had hemorrhoids, the shits, and a hangnail.

Schourek, dealt, dueled, daddled and doodled. He fired, fretted, fiddled and foodled. He battled, beefed, bartered and biddled. He also pitched 5 1/3 shutout innings, giving up only two cheap, garbage hits. Despite his status as a finesse lefty not known for throwing heat, Schourek the Hero fanned righthanded slugger Ritchie Sexson, who is eight feet tall and hit .310 that year.

But in the top of the sixth, David Justice hit a chintzy double that Darren Lewis would have caught if he wasn’t such a stupid jerk, and Jimy Williams brought in Derek Lowe. That worked out OK, as Lowe picked up a Hold (a stat known only to bedwetting fantasy league sweathogs who stare at www.bb-ref.com all day) and pitched well.

Unfortunately Schourek’s effort was wasted, and the Sox season flushed down the crapper like so much deuce, when Tom Gordon coughed up the lead and Mike Jackson (no, not that one) closed the game out for the Tribe. But Schourek’s heroics endure in the mind’s eye, like a work of art or the first laugh of a newborn child.

Bravo, Pete Schourek. Bravo.

The national media "spectrum" is completely against Boston sports

2009-07-20T15:28:00.000-07:00

By: Jimmy Flynn: Is it me? or is the national media really against Boston sports? The picture above is the perfect example of it. A Red Sox fan named Allen is getting completely harassed by the media. Allen , a legendary point guard for Phila's 76ers became one of the most dominating offensive weapons in the NBA without one minute of practice. Not one minute! Instead of praising him for his accomplishments, they harass him. I'm convinced this all happened because he was wearing a Red Sox hat. Allen had to deal with this often. So after years of this constant harrasment, Allen finally got traded... Would you like an ironic twist? Well here you go. Ask any fair weather 76er's fan about the team and they still reference him.

here's a link to the press conference