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Thread: Red Sox fans crack me up...
10-10-03 03:22 PM #1
Red Sox fans crack me up...
"Twas the night to beat yankees
and all through the nation
not a single soul was thinkin'
of 85 years of damnation
Cuz this is the year
to end our bad luck
and even if it weren't,
the Yankees still s***,
On Damon, on Nixon, Manny and Nomah,
on V-tek, on Walker, Ortiz and Millah,
carry this team to end this damned curse,
don't blow the game or you'll leave town in a hearse,
to the true fans of Boston grab a beer and a cup,
and say it together..."COWBOY THE F*** UP!!!!!!!"
NYYFans Fantasy Baseball
CBS: Evil Empire
Yahoo: Special OPS
10-10-03 03:24 PM #2
10-10-03 07:12 PM #3
- Join Date
- Jul 2001
- NEW YORK
10-10-03 07:18 PM #4
Not an original thought!
You can figure out how old this one is.....
‘Twas a night in October, and all through the town,
Not a Mets fan was smiling, they all wore a frown.
When up through the Bronx rose a terrible cheer,
And the Yankees were winning just like every year.
On Derek, on Tino, on Bernie and Paul,
As each game unfolded, the Mets had to fall.
Poor Leiter, poor Timo, we know how you feel,
You just keep on losing though you play with such Zeile.
Mets fans watch in horror, men they thought were kings,
So just let the dogs out, as the fat lady sings.
And game 5 soon ended, to the Yank’s fans’ delight,
26 for the Yankees---for the Mets fans, GOOD NIGHT!
10-10-03 07:26 PM #5
- Join Date
- Jul 2001
- NEW YORK
Yeah--but--it didn't have that cowboy up crap!!!!
10-10-03 07:47 PM #6
both of those crack me up. That damn red sux one will be my away message wtih a cowboy the fluck up yours at teh endwww.myspace.com/tabbycat31
10-10-03 08:20 PM #7
This is from the 2000 WS:
Piazza at the bat
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Metville nine that night
The Yankees had them 3 to 1, the end was now in sight
And then when Payton died on base, and Leiter did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
As innings flew, a faithless few left baseball to the rest,
Who clung to hope eternal, deep within the Metville breast.
They thought if Mike Piazza got a final whack at that,
Why, we’d be even money, with Piazza at the bat.
The Yankees pulled ahead at last, as the Yankees always do.
The Metville nine had three outs left, before their year was through.
They needed just to get on base, to rally all their pride,
And hope the great Piazza could give a ball a ride.
But before we reached Piazza, a pinch hitter went to bat,
And swung and missed and walked away, and made us all go flat.
In deepest melancholy, 50,000 fans just sat,
For there seemed no chance whatever to get Piazza up to bat.
Then Benny Agbayani, to the wonderment of all,
Faced the great Rivera, and worked a base on balls.
He made it down to second, and the fans cheered what occurred,
For Benny Agbayani was now gazing down at third.
Rivera got a second out, but there arose a lusty yell,
It rumbled through the city, they could hear it down in Hell.
It drowned the nearby airport, and rattled each Queens flat,
For mighty Mike Piazza was advancing to the bat.
Fifty thousands eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt
And all the fans applauded as he wiped them on his shirt.
And while the great Rivera ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance lit Piazza’s eyes, and he tightened up his lips.
Grim was the catcher’s manner as he stepped into his place
Pride changed Piazza’s bearing, no smile flickered on his face.
Ignoring all the Met fan cheers, he fiddled with his hat.
No Met fan in the throng dared doubt -- Piazza at the bat.
And now the great Rivera fired a baseball through the air.
Piazza stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Just past the sturdy batter, the ball unheeded sped.
“That’s not my pitch,” Piazza said. “Strike one,” the umpire said.
From all of vast Shea Stadium, there came an angry roar
Like the voice of some great hurricane a-pounding on a shore.
“The umpire’s blind!” a loud voice said, and all began to stand,
They really could have hanged the ump -- but Piazza raised a hand.
Rivera gazed without a smile from his kingdom on the mound
Piazza dug in at the plate, indifferent to the sound.
His face was now so stern and cold -- for he was the tying run-
He had to make a perfect hit, to prove he was no Bum.
And Benny Agbayani took a lead down from third base,
And he like everybody else watched Mike Piazza’s face.
And now the great Rivera with the ball tight in his glove,
Faced off with Mike Piazza in the way the Yankees love.
The ball came fast and straight and hard, direct to that home plate
And the mighty Mike Piazza prepared to meet his fate.
He swung and he connected! He would make the Yankees yield!
And the ball flew high and long and deep, to distant center field!
But it did not travel far enough, into the distant stands.
The ball came down too quickly -- into Bernie Williams’ hands.
The Yankees were delirious, the victory was theirs.
They’d won the Subway Series, with their swaggering Bronx airs.
Oh, somewhere in this favored town, the sun is shining bright;
A band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light.
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout.
But there is no joy in Metville –since Piazza, he flied out.
10-10-03 08:55 PM #8
Thanks! I had never seen that one!!!! I'm saving it for posterity!!!
10-10-03 10:43 PM #9
10-11-03 01:24 AM #10Originally posted by 26X4US
Yeah--but--it didn't have that cowboy up crap!!!!
In Boston, It's Become a Nation of Hope
Sox Fans Eye 1st Title Since 1918
By Jonathan Finer
Washington Post Staff Writer
Saturday, October 11, 2003; Page A01
BOSTON, Oct. 10 -- Homeless for nearly three years, George Crouse was handed the equivalent of two weeks' worth of hot meals, a wardrobe of new clothes, or a night at the Ritz-Carlton recently when someone stuffed a ticket to a Red Sox game into his coffee can instead of spare change.
He could have walked to Fenway Park and scalped the grandstand seat for $250 or more. But Crouse went to the game. "Sell it? No way," he said from his perch atop a milk crate on a subway platform outside Massachusetts General Hospital.
As a die-hard fan in a city gone baseball crazy, Crouse is far from alone in Boston this week.
The Red Sox' quixotic 85-year quest for a World Series championship -- which they haven't won since selling Babe Ruth to the Yankees at the end of World War I -- has etched itself indelibly, and painfully, on the local psyche. It is as much a part of Boston as Puritanism and baked beans.
But this year, optimism, even in the face of all that history, runs deep. Their team is tied with New York at one game a piece, the best-of-seven American League Championship Series is moving to Boston on Saturday afternoon and Red Sox fans sense deliverance may finally be at hand. And that it could come at the expense of the hated Yankees is only adding to the excitement.
It would not take a visitor long to recognize that something unusual is going on around town. Massive Red Sox banners drape the Statehouse and City Hall. Office lights on the Prudential building, second tallest on Boston's skyline, are arranged most nights to read "Go Sox." Every restaurant and bar seems to be plastered with Red Sox-themed slogans like "This is the year," or simply "believe."
Then there are the Wild West outfits. Normally preppy Boston is experiencing a dramatic increase in high leather boots and ten-gallon haberdashery, a response to the team's rallying cry of "Cowboy Up," coined by Texan first baseman Kevin Millar.
And the city has been awash in buzz cuts since last week, when most Red Sox players, their manager and their general manager, shaved their heads for solidarity. One shop in Chestnut Hill offered free trims to the first 100 kids in Red Sox gear. And a downtown billiards hall, will have an in-house barber during Saturday's game, providing free food and drinks to fans willing to be shorn.
Three wins away from the World Series, the ranks of Red Sox Nation -- as the devout legion of fans across New England united mostly by their years of shared misery call themselves -- swell by the day.
"I got here at the end of August and didn't know the first thing about baseball, and now I am hooked," said Ruth Hill, a graduate student from Scotland who recently scoured local souvenir shops for her first Red Sox hat.
More experienced Red Sox watchers are eager to offer theories to explain what ties this team to its city. "They have not had the ultimate success, but the fans stay totally emotionally involved," said Andrew Zimbalist, an economics professor at Smith College, who writes often about baseball. "In spite of everything, the team has been a pillar of the Boston culture for decades and decades."
As Zimbalist sees it, much of this is due to the uniqueness of the Sox' home field, Fenway Park, a throwback park in the heart of downtown that was built in 1912. The Sox routinely sell each of its 33,871 seats. For the playoffs, tickets are nearly impossible to find. Bidding on eBay and other online sales sights has approached $1,000 per seat.
"Part of it is the baseball culture here," Zimbalist said. "Part of it, frankly, is the charm of Fenway Park. Getting a ticket to a game is always a special thing because it's so small. The seats are all good and it almost always sells out. So a lot of the mystique has been sustained by the fact that they have this great ballpark and you don't see empty seats."
"The fan base here is different from most places," said Alicia Cabrera, 23, of Lexington, watching a game this week at the Boston Beerworks, across the street from Fenway. "We have a park right inside the city, so it feels like we're more connected. And people know baseball, they've suffered through the losses and they know the curse of Babe Ruth and all that garbage. We set ourselves up to be disappointed, but this year, things feel different."
Some fans are getting creative. Jill Smagula, 26, a bartender in Cambridge, placed a classified ad on an Internet marketplace , offering the pleasure of her company for a man with a ticket to spare. "Cute girl seeks sox ticket," it read in part. She got six responses within two hours. "I'll keep my fingers crossed," Smagula said. "I don't really care who I go with, I just want to be there."
John Witte has a simpler, if perhaps more arduous plan. Hoping for one of a handful of tickets made available on the day of each game, he perched outside the Fenway box office at midnight Thursday, more than 36 hours before the first pitch. Friday morning he was still there, resting in a lawn chair alongside some 50 other devotees. "I'm not going anywhere until I walk through the gates [of the park]," said Witte, who said he has spent at least 30 nights outside Fenway this season and has not been denied a ticket yet.
No aspect of culture here seems to have escaped the reach of baseball. The Red Sox have been the subject of recent Sunday church sermons and were mentioned during recent high holidays services in at least one local synagogue. Many fans say they wear the same clothes, sit in the same spot on their sofas or frequent the same bars on the day of games, to help spread luck.
After all of this build-up what if they lose, again? "Unimaginably painful," said Smagula. "I don't want to think about it."
And what if they make it to the World Series? "Oh my God, all of New England will be here," said Sgt. Brian Latson of the Boston Police Department, standing on patrol outside of Fenway Park where several thousand fans rioted after a recent win, tipping over cars and throwing bottles. "It would be the biggest party the city has ever had."
With all the fervor, the only people who aren't having much fun in Boston in recent weeks are Yankees fans.
Dania Ramos, 22, who moved here from Manhattan in late September, tried to stifle her cheers in the Boston Beerworks on Thursday night, while watching her team score the go-ahead run in the Yankees' 6-2 victory at Yankee Stadium. "Is it hostile? Oh yes, it's like a cult," she said. "Everyone jumps down your throat. And then they all try to convert you."
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