Things are gonna get ugly for the next week. Boston is in the World Series, and High Above Courtside has shifted its' operations to the War Room. Guards are posted, battle stations manned, and rations have been distributed. I'm in it to win it, and have absolutely no problem at all with shedding someone's blood if Francona should require it of me.
Hopefully, the Sox can take it without my advice. Baseball has never been my thing, to be honest. I love to watch, but I rarely played- not even the more girl-ish softball.
I have a bit of a schhhhhhhnout on me, and my vision isn't the best...or the ball is too small, as I like to say. The end result is that I have difficulty seeing it until it is too late to get that stupid glove in front of my face. I go "eeeeek!!!!" a lot when I play. I could never swing one of those bats properly, either- although, at a sort-of exaggerated 5'1", I have a strike zone that Pokey Reese envies. You could completely defend my strike zone with a good-sized cutting board, if you had any talent at all. I don't.
These facts combine with my Darwinian aversion to being struck in the face to keep me on the safe side of the fence. That said, I don't think that a lack of talent should keep me from contributing to the cause. While playing is out of the question, and any technical advice I'd proffer would be flawed, I can get in where I fit in.
While Francona has his flaws, he's not an overeducated housewife with some time to kill. I have talents that can not only be exploited, but which- if properly utilized- could prove pivotal.
So, here's what I can come up with, off the top of my head:
- Stealing the Moon:
In 1504, Christopher Columbus fooled natives on the island of Jamaica into thinking that he had supernatural powers. While many "primitive" cultures were actually quite advanced as astronomers, these locals were not in that league. Once, when in some kind of jam, CC simply threatened to "steal the moon" if the natives got restless. CC knew an eclipse was coming, and he probably did some silly dance as it started. As his men struggled to restrain laughter, the natives fell before Columbus as if he were a God himself.
If things start 0-3 Ugly again, the Sox might be well-served to remember this story. They would also do well to plan what teachers call proper implementation. I would allow a FOX cameraman to "catch" Johnny Damon- dressed in full Aleister Crowley regalia- conducting a Black Mass.
As several hooded people who may or may not be Curt Schilling, David Ortiz, Jason Varitek, Manny Ramirez, Derek Lowe and others watch, Damon- speaking in a jumble of Latin- sacrifices the Rally Midget in a ceremony so bloody that Quentin Tarantino hurls.
Literature professor Elizabeth Miller, brought in by ESPN as an emergency analyst, translates Damon's ritual to a shocked audience. In short, Damon has threatened to "Steal the Moon" to break the Curse.
As Game 4 begins, the Moon slowly begins to turn blood red, then becomes partially obscured. Unless the St. Louis players are properly prepared, many will flee in abject terror. If Damon can sell well enough, he just may not only force a forfeit, he just may keep several of them from coming back for games 5-7.
Granted, this is what we call playing dirty, but you have to break a few eggs to make some Reverse the Curse Cookies, no? It would be especially hard on the Rally Midget, though I suppose Ben Affleck might know some FX guys who could stage an elaborate faking.
With the pivotal Game 7 taking place on a now-terrifying Halloween, the remaining Cardinal players would be ******* themselves like infants who somehow opened the Ex-Lax packaging.
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