I haven't been here in a while.

Hello again

Mon, 21 Nov 2005 02:28:08 GMT

Anyone even remember me? Eh? Huh? Ah, just stopping by. Don't know how long I'll stay.

Cowboys? Idoits? CHAMPIONS! (it was requested that I post this here..hope you like it, Jenny)

Sun, 31 Oct 2004 14:03:32 GMT

Every generation of Red Sox fans has their moment. For the older folks among us there is '46, when Pesky held the ball. For the baby-boomers there is '67, when Lonborg and the Impossible Dream Sox just didn't have enough in the tank to get by Bob Gibson and the Cardinals. The mid-life crisis set has 2 entries in the heartbreak lottery, both '75, when Fisk's home run forced a game 7 which the Sox were destined to drop to the Big Red Machine, and '78, when Bucky Dent's homer over the Green Monster put the final touch on what was then the greatest collapse in baseball history. The folks who are just now coming to grips with their adulthood will never forget '86, about which all I need say is "Buckner."

Last October I realized I was destined to join the fellowship of the miserable, for my generation's story would always be '03...game 7. As depressing as that was, it was somehow comfortable. It was as if my initiation was complete. I was 7 years old in '86, so I was too young to fully understand what was really going on and thus couldn't experience the full heartache. But with '03 under my belt I could take my place in the pantheon of let-down history. My bitchings and grumblings would be valid. I wouldn't be too young. I'd just be one of the guys; one of the guys who's had his heart broken by this fucking baseball team.

'04 came in with big expectations for the Sox. They had made some big additions to the pitching staff, and had kept together that potent lineup that had set so many records the year before. Everyone was excited about their chances. They were now the trendy pick to win the World Series. It seemed like experts and analysts were lining up on Yawkey Way to pay homage to the newly crowned royalty of baseball. But '03 was too fresh in my mind. To me, the Sox could have signed every player in major league baseball and played against beer league softball teams all year and I still wouldn't have believed that they had a shot. I realized that the additions of Curt Schilling and Keith Foulke would be enough to put any team over the hump. I even argued with a friend who didn't think these were good acquisitions (he thought Schill was too old and we didn't need Foulke because we had Scott Williamson), but not the Red Sox. I was officially jaded, and no amount of optimism would bring me back.

But like a true Red Sox fan, the season started and by the 5th inning of the first game I was completely wrapped up again. And like a true Red Sox fan I ran the entire gamete of emotions. When they got off to the hot start, including winning 6 out of the first 7 games against the Yankees (remember the sweep in the Bronx?) I started blowing the trumpets and declaring them the team of destiny. When they hit the skids not long after and spent 3 months in a .500 malaise I found myself openly declaring my hope that the suddenly (and shortly) red-hot Devil Rays passed the Sox and finished second in the division.

But this is where the regime change at the top showed it's true value. In the old days the team would have added some aging veteran in July and fizzled out down the stretch. But what we have here in Boston now are men with balls the size of Volkswagens, and The Epstein pulled the trigger on a trade that the likes of Dan Duquette never would have made. In dealing the face (or nose, at least) of the franchise in Nomar Garciaparra the Sox proved once and for all that the culture of losing was over, and what ensued was nothing short of miraculous.

With Orlando Cabrerra now in the fold at shortstop the Sox went on a run in August and September the likes of which I've never seen in baseball. I can't remember the exact number, but I believe they won 12 in a row at one point and 18 our of 21, including 8 our of 9 against the teams that the experts (the same ones that couldn't stop drooling all over the Sox in the preseason) said would bring the run to a screeching halt, Anaheim, Oakland and Texas. Bu the time they locked up the wild card that old feeling was back (the one I swore I would never let myself feel again). This was the year. This was the team. Who the hell could beat this team? NO ONE!

After a tidy sweep over the speed-bump-like Angels they REAL playoffs were ready to begin. Then, as quickly as it the series started, 3 games later it looked ready to end with the usual whimper. I'm not going to get into the details of the first 3 games, but I was distraught. I had such a headache for game 4 that I couldn't watch it. I went to bed in the 2nd inning. I did, however, leave the radio on and I awoke at some ungodly hour to hear Joe Castiglione yelling about the Red Sox pulling off a come-from-behind victory and David Ortiz being the hero. I smiled. I rolled over and slept a little easier.

All day before game 5 I had one though running through my head. "We win tonight, we're in the same exact position we were in last year." I called my friends and repeated this line a hundred times. How the fuck could I be excited about this game? God damn, it's fun being a masochistic Red Sox fan. So I sat on the couch at 5:00pm, knowing full well I'd be better off beating my head against a wall for 3 hours, and got ready to pray for Pedro. Then the 6th inning came around and Derek Jeter did what Derek Jeter does...drove in 3 runs with a bases-clearing triple to put the Yankees up 4-2. I stood up from the couch, looked and my roommate and said "It worked last night, I'm gonna try it again tonight" and marched straight into my room, put on the radio and went ot bed. At 11:00pm I woke up and had this strange sense of deja vu. Joe Castiglione was yelling about a Red Sox come-from-behind victory and David Ortiz being the hero. This time I got up at checked the TV. It wasn't deja vu. It was deja PAPI! He really did it again. We were really going back to NY. Oh god, it was '03 all over again.

The next 2 games can be summed up by one word that Chris Carraba (Dashboard Confessional...yeah, I"m a pussy) sings with such perfect severity...VINDICATED! It was all such a blur, but when Pokey Reese fielded the ground ball and recorded the final out and it was all over I let out a scream that had been sitting in the pit of my stomach since last October, and I can guarantee I wasn't the only one. This year was different. This team was different. Game 7 '04 had made game 7 '03 a mere footnote. There wouldn't be 25 years of dwelling on what could have been. This was going to get done NOW!

There was still the matter of the Finland (St. Louis) Cardinals, but who among us didn't know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we had the Cards in our back pockets? And as Jason Varitek was jumping into Keith Foulke's arms and it was finally over in ever sense of the word, I wasn't able to exhale an emotional reaction as I did after the ALCS. I was just left to stare in the TV in stunned silence with my hands over my mouth and my eyes wide like a kid at Christmas.

It took me a long time to be able to put this experience into words, but why not? The experience was a long time coming. Hell, I'm still not sure I really believe it. But I'm sure a lot of people felt the same way in the fall of 1946, or 1967, or 1975, or 1978, or 1986 or 2003. Disbelief is a lot easier to take when it's served with a smile.

My Last Post Ever

Sun, 09 Nov 2003 13:27:08 GMT

My name is Tom Griffiths.
My cell phone number is 617-821-8566.
My e-mail address is TomAceVTC@hotmail.com.
These are the ways you can all get in touch with me because I am done with Livejournal.
Au Revoir.

Sat, 08 Nov 2003 15:38:41 GMT

Wow, Martin Scorcese wants to fuck Leonardo Dicaprio, doesn't he?

spiked million

Sat, 08 Nov 2003 03:25:32 GMT

I'd be happy to never hear the word "amazing" again. Also, someone think for me. I'm sick of it.

Thu, 06 Nov 2003 22:48:05 GMT

I am Ash, from the "Evil Dead" trilogy.
I'm the guy with the...chainsaw.

Which Random Cult Movie Character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Man Of The People

Wed, 05 Nov 2003 02:41:26 GMT

The results of the election are in, and your new city coundilman in ward 2, Everett, MA is...

STEVE "SIMMIE" SIMONELLI

Memories

Tue, 04 Nov 2003 22:46:14 GMT

I randomly thought of an old substitute teacher, Mr. Vanderbeck, today. Here are two conversations I've had with him.

Me: "You look like Bill Walton."
Mr. V: "Don't say that, man. He's about the ugliest mother fucker I've ever seen."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. V: "You know why god invented time, man?"
Me: "Why?"
Mr. V: "So that everything doesn't happen at once. DOESN'T THAT JUST BLOW YOUR MIND, MAN?"

2 things

Tue, 04 Nov 2003 02:06:05 GMT

1) Why are The Offspring still around? Seriously, who's still buying their shit?

2) Joe Perry might be the prettiest woman ever.

Sun, 02 Nov 2003 22:40:25 GMT

I don't care
whatever
bye

I swear, I don't do coke.

Sun, 02 Nov 2003 04:49:12 GMT

My nose has been bleeding all fucking day. Seriously, all fucking day.

Sat, 01 Nov 2003 13:35:42 GMT

I don't like parties anymore.

Celtics season opener tonight vs. Miami...

Wed, 29 Oct 2003 10:53:59 GMT

...AND I'M GOING!!! GET OUT THE HEADBAND AND THE GREEN KNEE-HIGHS, IT'S CELTICS SEASON AGAIN!!!

Best conversation I've ever had

Mon, 27 Oct 2003 01:15:46 GMT

Paul: "The world's a big scary place."
Me: "Fuck the world. I'm a big scary place."

Go Celtics

Sun, 26 Oct 2003 05:59:23 GMT

So the Yankees lost. Yee-fucking-HA! I don't really fucking care. I'm sick of rooting against the Yankees.

My new best friend...

Sat, 25 Oct 2003 20:47:06 GMT

Straightening iron, where have you been all my life?

Wednesday night with dad...

Thu, 23 Oct 2003 21:02:41 GMT

"I was suppposed to get my bum done, then I found the thing in my dick."

Thanks, dad. You just won quote of the year.

Tears...

Thu, 23 Oct 2003 02:10:36 GMT

I can't believe this. My head is spinning. I refuse to believe it. How could it be? Rerun? Dead? He's been such an inspiration in my life. I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight. I know I won't be able to concentrate on anything tomorrow. I just feel like I've been robbed of my soul. The morning will bring no sun, the evening will bring no rest, without Rerur, sweet Rerun.

Elliot Smith

Wed, 22 Oct 2003 16:26:00 GMT

The man wanted to be dead. Now he is dead. He got his last wish. Be happy for him. We should all be so lucky.

Are you gonna be my girl?

Tue, 21 Oct 2003 22:19:26 GMT

4-5-6, come on and get your kicks.
Now, you don't need money when you look like that, do you, honey?

It is hard fucking work being a Boston sports fan.

Mon, 20 Oct 2003 22:26:45 GMT

I'll do this one Vietnam Le style.

(+) Red Sox get to game 7 against the Yankees

(-) Red Sox blow game 7 against the Yankees

(+) Patriots win in Miami in September/October for the first time ever

(+) Bruins win 3 straight

(-) CELTICS FUCKING TRADE ANTWOINE WALKER!?!?!?!?!? WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?!?

Into the Neverwhere

Sun, 19 Oct 2003 23:53:07 GMT

Jackie, I can unequivically say that the Neverwhere DVD is damn near unwatchable. he only thing they did right was to stick so close to the book. The casting director should be shot (De Carabas and Hunter are black. Now, I have no problem with black people, but you read the descriptions of those characters. They are not black.), It would have been nice if they spent more that $4 on effects, and I fail to believe that the folks of London below got their hands on so much technological advance. Of course, I've only watched the first disc. I'm not too excited to throw in the second one.

best

Sat, 18 Oct 2003 16:29:19 GMT

Tom Ace VTC: Some Norweigan band slept at my house last night.
Tom Ace VTC: good times
The1TheyCallSim: fuckin' neutral fucks
The1TheyCallSim: oh, and thanks for thr herpes by the way

Look on the bright side

Sat, 18 Oct 2003 06:41:37 GMT

Boston Red Sox
1918 World Champions
GO SOX!!!

I've been stuck in the 8th inning since 12:15 am

Fri, 17 Oct 2003 19:29:20 GMT

Somebody once asked me why Boston is so emo.
YOU TRY BEING A FUCKING RED SOX FAN! WE'LL SEE IF YOU DON'T FUCKING START CRYING!

I'll let Chris Carrabba of Dashboard Confessional sum it up. (He has a claim here. He's from Connecticut.)

"I guess that all you've got
Is all you're gonna get.
So much for 'so much more'."