If Dorian allows, the teams will play Friday. But judging by the storm's glacial movement, a fun and frolic weekend in Durham looks rather tenuous.
This, of course, is wonderful news. (Sorry, Outer Banks.) Any cosmic event that pushes Scranton's season deeper into September is another sign that the Fates this year are betting on the Death Star. (Note: Do not confuse the Fates with the juju gods - who are odorous, overworked middle managers with no control over natural disasters. The juju gods work nights in dingy cubicles, wearing wrist guards and green visors, and are relegated to fixing sports events. They never get to play with wars, elections, pestilence and celebrity hook-ups. That's why they drink.)
Short of toggling the hurricane to crawl up the coast and pulverize Fenway, the Fates have already done their share to Boston this year, in support of the Yankee cause. (Monday's mystical one-game playoff - when Scranton scored eight in the eighth to beat the Syracuse Mets - was beyond the pay-grade of the regular juju slobs. That one came from the top brass.)
Something's happening. In another September, the Yankees by now would have called up Kyle Higashioka. On a limitless roster, a third catcher is almost a requirement. Clearly, the front office is stashing Higgy at Triple A to beat Durham. If Scranton can win this five-game series, they'll play another fiver. They could stretch this season to Sept. 14.
That would give Giancarlo Ellsbury, Aaron Hicks, Jordan Montgomery, Luis Severino, Dellin Betances - and whoever tweaks something this weekend - full Triple A rehab assignments. Then, each could play in NYC the final two weeks, letting the Yankees decide who stays and goes.
Anything that stretches our minor league seasons - floods, earthquakes, riots, asteroids - is a godsend. Keep your fingers crossed for that supervolcano in the Grand Canyon, or an alien attack on Washington. Either would give Giancarlo more time to heal whatever it is that's hurting.
Interestingly, the Death Star this week traded two Scranton lug nuts - Ryan McBroom and JP Feyerisen - for international pool money. You'd think they'd keep them to help the Railriders advance. Still, I'm not bashing Cooperstown Cashman. Yesterday, we signed a 16-year-old Latino, a power-hitting 3B with our new money. He's thinking of 2525, if man is still alive.
And then there is Boston. Tonight, the Redsocks will yank out the kitchen sink to beat Mighty Minny. But time is running out. Nothing less than a four-game sweep of the Yankees can save them. Even then, it's probably over. (And when I say "over," I mean it: David Price is a contractual anvil, they'll have wasted pivotal seasons from Betts and Martinez, and Chris Sale may never be the same.)
In many ways, all we have to do is win Friday night. (Note to juju gods: I'm not suggesting the Yanks go 1-3, just that we definitely want Friday.) The lights are dimming in Boston. If we win Friday, they'll be hoping for a visit from Dorian.
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31 comments:
"(Note to juju gods: I'm not suggesting the Yanks go 1-3, just that we definitely want Friday.)"
Duque,
We definitely want Friday and Sunday. I will be in attendance at both games. Behind the Yankees dugout. 10th row Friday. 2nd row Sunday. Look for me in between the annoying ESPN graphics. It will be hard to pick me out of the crowd. It will all be Yankees fans (OK, mostly), since this game coincides some football teams opening game. Most of the racist townie asshole fans have already forgotten the Carmine hose for the year and are concentrating on football.
NOBODY here is going to get a positive word from me until after the last out of the final World Series game AND there is no guarantee will advance anywhere beyond the first round.
One way the gods will fuck with mere mortals is to set them up and then chop them off at the knees. We need to hunker down, double down on whatever we're doing, and pray we have some kind of decent pitching and reliable hitting - not just homers - when we go against teams with real rotations. We need to be grateful for our strengths, but aware of our weaknesses and to take appropriate steps to counteract them.
Anything less than than that plan is pure folly.
Don't fuck with the Juju gods. They are listening. I learned that from Duque's book. I also learned it from my own experience in the 20th Century.
Instant classic, Duque! I love your description of the Juju gods work environment. I picture as well a big, uncleaned refrigerator, from which they regularly steal each others' lunches.
One of them regularly warms his fish-based lunch in the microwave. If I ever catch that lunatic, so help me
Old Labatt and even older Old Milwaukee beer posters in the break room. One of the Juju Gods has a collection of bobble heads in his cubicle. At first he thought that it was a perk of being involved in SPORTS. But lately they've become a burden. In fact, he's thinking of applying for a transfer to Lottery.
Doug K.
-- a Chinese food carton from Wong-Wu's
A big, slow fan that only moves the stale air around...
Like the Zager & Evans reference.
I really hope they are not taking offense here...
I also wonder what their restroom is like. I see a grimy, swinging half door, bare bulb, filthy light switch, roll of TP on a rope that's nailed to the wall horizontally, some old magazines by the side of the cracked porcelain throne, along with some betting forms and MLB talent binders...yes, you heard me....binders...
mwhahahahhahahaha....
The TP roll is of course, empty.
No, no, 13bit: we are empathizing with their lot in life.
Soap dispenser is always empty, there are never any paper towels, just those horrible air machines that make your aging flesh roll grotesquely back and forth...
There is a dart board hanging near the utility closet with a picture of Tom Brady on it. It has no holes. The darts have fallen, tips bent, onto the sticky floor. Some sports figures, it seems, are impervious to their craft.
Doug K.
Aging flesh rolls grotesquely back and forth... frequently in time with the roll of the tides ...
Yeah, there was a memo from upstairs, saying 'Hands off Boston this century.'
But still, to their credit, the guys like to violate it when nobody's looking: those Super Bowl losses to the Giants and the Eagles (the EAGLES! Good one!), the Bruins losing in the seventh game, Kyrie Irving, the Sox still falling flat on their faces every other year or so.
But then a threatening follow-up memo comes down, and it's back to disconsolately kicking the big Jets dummy in the backroom, or chasing Mr. Met around with tasers.
The Knicks, they don't have to do a thing to. Just monitor in awe the work Jimmy Dolan is doing, and wonder how long it will be before he joins the team.
Hoss,
If you don't want to use the air machine, there's always the endless (stained) cloth roll that is labeled as "sanitized".
Boston is crazy like a fox and they have a good front office and talent evaluation squad - for the most part. Would you take this deal: every decade, you can win three world series rings if you tank three alternate times? I know it doesn't work that way, but it's not the worst conspiracy theory, is it?
Meanwhile, in the galley of the juju gods' tramp steamer, an old swabbie tugboat captain is whipping up some stew from leftovers.
In the office, there's a mountain of empty pizza boxes.
And, for those unlucky ones who are out doing field work tonight, there is a fight over chicken sandwiches at the local fast food outlet.
Yep, Boston has figured out one way to do it. Yet I refuse to believe a way can't be found without the constant tanking.
Meanwhile, others have taken their loaner back to the seedy garage on the other side of town, only to find that all the dents have yet to be pounded out of the company car. Looks like another week chugging along with a carburetor that sounds like a freight train.
A noisy loaner they have taken to calling "the Juju Express." Nobody bothers to pick up the food droppings any more. Old french fries are scattered on the floor and it has gotten so filthy that some of them have started hitching rides on the AAA buses, unbeknownst to the ball players who sit in their seats and talk shit. These Juju gods get an early jump on who's who and they report back to the main office on the fuck-ups and the potential future heroes.
Wow, arriving here late.
What an enjoyable comments thread this is! Kudos to all.
Freud would have a field day with this thread. Thank god, my real name -- Hugh Jadonis hasn't been mentioned here.
And hey, those Juju dudes did a number on the BoSox tonight.
Two out, bottom of the ninth, Devers on first, J.D. Martinez doubles off the wall...and Devers is thrown out at home, on a beautiful throw. End of ballgame. Fenway goes from roaring to silent as if someone flipped a switch.
Awww.
Couldn't happen to a better franchise Hoss....
Hoss,
Let's hope it's not that close tomorrow night...
Magic number for Red Sox division elimination is 5.
Cross your fingers. I'll be there Sunday night.
"He said I'm goin' on down to Fenway Park
Gonna root for that New York band
Gotta get back to the land
And get my soul free..."
Also, El Duque, may I congratulate you on your CORRECT spelling of "judgement"?
I've always believed it should be spelled this way. But when you look it up in the dictionary, it is described as "archaic."
ARCHAIC???
Is common sense "archaic"? Is basic good judgEment now "archaic"?
Cut out the middle "e"? Well, why don't we just call him "Aaron Judg"?
It's a thin blue, pinstriped line holding the world back from madness. I'm privileged to be on that line with you, Peerless Leader.
I'm a little giddy about the Red Sox loss. Can you tell?
I'm sure that the huge exhale from RedSox Nation from the loss contributed to the greenhouse effect...the EPA should be notified of this...
The current EPA would look for a way to increase exhaling.
Doug K.
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