Current mood:

more sleep plz?

Knee-jerk negativity just never got me through
I went all but dormant online yesterday--seemed like all of my usual haunts were focused on the negative on multiple fronts, and it's taken me a while, but I've finally grasped the concept that what I need to do at that point usually is go away. Not that criticism can't be called for, or that folks can't vent, but I guess the backdrop of Sox/Yankee tension* makes everything in the foreground more overwhelming. (* One example of what I mean--it drives me nuts when Sox fans criticize Yankee fans but then use disparaging terms for their stadium, players, etc. Can't have it both ways. I prefer not to act that way, while realizing I'm perhaps in a minority. See "go away," above.)

That said: booing Sox players in the introductions? All well and good. Harassing Papelbon because you fell for the spin put on his comments by a tabloid rag? Pretty pathetic. (Is there a closer in the league who wouldn't have said "I want to be on the mound in the ninth"? Honestly?)

But anyway--sittingstill staying off message boards while staying up for THE GAME THAT WAS NEVER GOING TO END = sittingstill editing!


Saturday:


Your at-bat music is terrible, Brian Roberts, but I still can't resist snapping away.


I couldn't get Kevin Millar's hair and his shoelaces in the same photo, sadly.


Manny Ramirez; that one, as they say, is not coming back.


Smiling Mikey Lowell!


I was chatting with the folks sitting next to me while Youk was at bat and then thought, "I should really shoot a few." First pitch I had the camera on him was the grand slam! Note in this series that strained feelings are still very much in evidence between Manny and Youk... ^_^












(This was the same night as Timlin and the gum. Sometimes I go through photos after a game and just laugh myself silly.)


Pedroia and Ellsbury gossip about Jed Lowrie.



On to Sunday...


It should have been Wake's turn to man the bucket of balls, but he's got Clay Buchholz as his personal servant, apparently.


Not that Clay's knocking himself out or anything.


Hansen and Delcarmen get some practice in pitching a water bottle cap.


After a nice throw-in from Jacoby.


Jed!


Does Papelbon need a hand or two? Wake is bemused.


The rookies gaze in awe at the BP homers, but Pedie? He's past all that. There's work to do.


Nick Markakis.


"BOR-ING!"


Alex Cora begins his coaching career. "Casey... there's a reason they don't call you 'Seanny Doubles,' okay?"


The gracefulness of Pedroia at the plate is only exceeded by the wonder of that smooth first step on the basepaths.


B-Rob and his glasses.


Tek looks skinny as a rail. I really wonder if he's been sick all year.


J.D. Drew (or Yay D. Woooooo! if you prefer.)


Jed Lowrie. I wish I could save that light and use it again.


Meanwhile, over at SoSH there's an auction to benefit the fight against ALS, and I've donated two prints to the auction (Paps and the champagne, and Wake and Pesky on ring day) as well as one to the raffle (Pedroia). Take a look if you're interested!