The one thing that has troubled me with this Blog is that I have not written more, due in part to school, a hectic schedule, and some social drama issues.

Well, School is over, I’ve got nothing to do, and the aforementioned Social Drama Issue is moving back out to Colorado, so now I’ve got no excuse.

This was an amazing week in sports: The ‘Canes capping their run at Lord Stanley’s Cup, coming back from 3-1 in the series to win in dramatic fashion. Although I’m sure this could have been one of the stories of the year, the strike created a lot of ill will towards Hockey. Yes, Hockey Players don’t get paid NEAR enough for the punishment they take, but they tend to have longer careers than other professional athletes, and Americans just don’t have that kind of patience for what’s optimistically the 5th most popular Professional Sport in the United States.
The Miami Heat finished their own comeback, beating the Mavs in four straight, after dropping the first two. I really like the Heat, I mean, how can you not root for Shaq, an Ex-Celtic, and the Heir Apparent to Jordan.

The United States World Cup Soccer Team ate the big one, losing to Ghana 2-1. As John Stewart put it, they’re certainly one of the LESS impoverished African 3rd World Nations. I know America isn’t exactly a hot-bed of soccer talent, and that our country doesn’t have the widespread adoration for The Beautiful Game that others do, but it might help if the Soccer version of the most powerful country in the world won a game here and there, especially against a country with a Per Capita GDP of $2,500 dollars.

Former Boston Bruins Captain Joe Thornton was named the NHL MVP. Now, why can’t we get players like…. Oh wait. We DID have him, and we traded him for 3 almost-there, borderline, fringe-guys (well, I DO like Marco Sturm, but come on, him, Wayne Primeau, and Brad Stuart put together don’t add up to Thornton).

Oh yeah, some guy named Roger came up from the Minor Leagues and pitched pretty well, giving up just 2 runs to the Red Hot Twins (not as dirty as it sounds).

Well, all of that is great, but me, I have bigger concerns. No, not which colleges I’m going to beg to let me in. No, not impressing girls and boys alike with my razor sharp wit, biting sense of humor, and undeniable charm. No, I’m all about Arena Football.

Arena Football 2 to be exact; specifically, The Manchester Wolves.

Now, before I went to this game, I had some preconceived notions about Arena Football. I thought it was where NFL Burnouts, Wanna-Bes, and Never-Weres congregated to live out some false dream of Football Stardom. And in a way, I was right. These ARE guys who couldn’t cut it in the NFL, but it’s mostly due to size. These guys are DEFINETLY athletes; it’s just that they’re not the freakishly muscled, absurdly fast, genetically gifted NFL stars. I’m willing to bet a bunch of these guys are Ex-High School and College Studs who just couldn’t take the physical demands of the NFL, and there is absolutely NO shame in that.

That said, the GAME of Arena Football is much different than the game of the NFL. In the Arena Leagues, you have 8 players on a 50 yard field, and you can have motion during the snap, making for some exciting plays. Imagine a Wide Receiver running straight at the Cornerback, with the Center snapping the ball right as the Receiver reaches the line of scrimmage at full speed. That’s pretty damn cool. Even the kicking game is different. The Field Goal Posts are a part of this metal frame, so any ball that bounces off of the large areas to the right and left of the goal are still considered live.
And to the owner’s credit, they realize they’re dealing with a sort of cheesy, fringe sport. They’ve marketed this just right, with slogans such as “Manchester Wolves: WE PLAY FOOTBALL.” There are endless promotions, and of course, scantily-clad women dancing suggestively at every opportunity.

I ended up getting 2 free tickets to the game about a week ago. I tried to invite a number of friends to attend, and many seemed interested up until the last minute. Then, the day of, I just couldn’t seem to get anyone. Here is sampling of the responses I got from people, people’s mothers, and people’s Away Messages.

“I’m sorry; she’s at a party at the Foreign Exchange Student’s House.”

“Hey man, I’m leaving to work at a Summer Camp; I won’t be back for a month.”

“Eating at Shorty’s, be back later.”

“Dan, you KNOW I’m Boston for a Saxophone Symposium. Do you REALLY think it’s feasible for me to leave this expensive seminar, drive an hour and a half north, and then pay to park, JUST to see an Arena Football game with YOU?”

So I ended up going on my own, and loving it. Before the game, I met the Principal of my High School outside the Verizon Wireless Arena, and he gave me ANOTHER free ticket. I passed both extra tickets off to a family of four, and even donated a couple of bucks to the Manchester West Raiders youth football program. I ate fried chicken, french fries, and soft-serve ice-cream, and enjoyed an hour of football with none of the emotional investment of an NFL Game.

Overall, a feel good experience.

I’ll probably Blog about the Red Sox game later, so be sure to check back.

Today was in equal turns uplifting and depressing. My High School held it’s Comencement today, so I had to attend as a part of the band which meant I had to see a ton of friends graduate and take one more step away from my little world here in Goffstown. On the other hand, I’m a Senior now, and 525,600 minutes away from being thrust into the scary world of adulthood. Oh yeah, all of that came in between about 20 minutes of the most repetitive, overplayed song in the universe.
But it could be worse, I could be a Red Sox fan… Oh wait…

This series in Minnesota has been an exercise in frustration. After the Sox opened up with the Almost-Epic Schilling/Santana extra-innings heartbreaker, they got roughed up the next day 8-1, although the game was basically over after That Kubel Guy hit his second game-clinching home-run in 2 days off of Matt Clement in the 2nd inning.

I came into tonights game in the 8th inning, just in time to see the Red Sox load the bases, and come away with just 2 runs. After The New Guy gave one back, the Red Sox teased me by bringing the tying run up in the form of Manny Ramirez (right up there with Youk as my favorite player). So what does a Future Hall-Of-Famer who’s possibly the best RBI Man of a Generation do? He strikes out of course. Our Boys get swept by the 30-34 Twins and slink out of town with their ego’s bruised and their weaknesses exposed. The light at the end of the tunnel? We re-open interleague play down in Atlanta. This is good for two reasons: A.) This years Braves eat more nuts than a squirrel in a Planters Factory, and B.) We get to see the hilarity of David Ortiz playing First Base.
So how about that New Guy? The Sox had him way back when, in 2002, and then traded him in ‘03 to the Rockies for Ryan Cameron (read, minor league nobody). Then, 3 years later, we trade a proven major league pitcher so we can have a Lefty Specialist. Riske never got his shot in Boston, and with all the mayhem out there, I can’t see trading him for a Triple-A Lefty. I mean, haven’t we been through a couple of those already this season? Was Mike Myers THAT bad? Short of Papelbon, the bullpen has been a train-wreck this season, and the starting has been spotty.

The Fisher Cats open up a home series against the Portland Sea Dogs on Friday, highlighted by an A.J. Burnett rehab start on Saturday. I’ll be at all 3 games, trying to figure out who the Red Soxes next quick-fix will be.

By the way, if you’re actually reading this, please E-Mail me and let me know that you are in fact checking it out, and give me some feedback.

If the lack of updates disturbed you, I’m sorry. I’ve spent the last week helping one of my closest friends move in with me. In the time since my last post, the Red Sox have gone 3-3, including a suburb (and wasted) start by Dave Pauley, Schilling’s 9th Win of the season, a Trot Nixon slugfest, John Lester’s first Major League start, and, of course, another chapter for the “Epic David Ortiz Walk-Off Hit’s” 3 Disc DVD set.

I’ve watched plenty of David Ortiz Walk-Offs. ALDS Game 3, ALCS Games 4 and 5, and his June 2 2005 shot off of then Oriole B.J. Ryan, but Sunday’s was different. He’s not the Papi he was then. Back then, it was shocking, and amazing, and thrilling. Now, we expect it, and when it comes, we give him his due, louder and louder each time.

I was working the Fisher Cats game, covering New Hampshire’s 11-5 drubbing of the Altoona Curve. I’d been watching the Sox game on and off all day, checking the TVs set up in the Upper Deck Saloon on the backside of the stadium. Finally, with the day wearing on, I settled into watching the game on MLB Gamecast, which is kind of like having a robot read you poetry. It’ll be all there, technically, but it’s missing exactly what makes it so great, the emotion. After Willie Harris grounded out, I turned away, only to miss the report of Trot Nixon’s single. When he went to 3rd on Coco’s single, I started to get up, but then I sat down, realizing that Mark Loretta was up, and I had a game to cover.

This is what separates David Ortiz from other hitters. No one in the press box budged with Loretta up with 1 down trailing by 2. Sure, Marky-Mark could have hit a double, and tied the game, or even hit a home-run of his own, and he might have, but it never struck any of us to go watch it. Loretta flew out right about the time the Cats got out of an inning, and all of a sudden, there it was. David Ortiz due up with 2 out and 2 on, trailing by 2. The official scorer asked me if the Sox game was over, and I told him what was going on. We both looked at each other, and IMMEDIATLY dashed out the back door of the press box and over to the closest television just in time to see Big Papi take strike one. There we stood, a collection of about 7 guys, of all ages, shapes, sizes, and levels of sobriety, huddled around a television, oblivious everything else. None of us spoke. We grunted when he took strike one and sighed when he bit on strike two. With almost anyone else at the plate, we would have just waked away at this point. Down 0-2 to a proven Major League pitcher, ugh, spare me. But not David. After working the count to 2-2 by taking some heart-stoppingly close pitches, swung at a pitch right in his wheelhouse. All around me, I heard the sharp gasps of hopeful fans, but it was just a foul. More silence. Finally, the 6th pitch, that fateful 6th pitch. Immediately after it came off his bat, we all knew where it was going, but none of us could say anything.

One man, over a hundred miles away, silenced 7 New England Sports Fans for a spilt second. If there’s a more powerful feat, I’d like to know about it.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity, someone, I don’t know who (hell it could have been me), uttered one phrase, almost a whisper, that summed up the whole thing.

“Son-Of-A-Bitch…”

That, my friends, is why we watch Baseball.

But of course, being the Red Sox, they got blown to pieces in the second game of the double-header.

Which brings us to today.

Santana vs. Schilling. A match-up made in script-writers heaven.

The game? Oh yes, it delivered.

Santana came right out of the gate, all business, setting down 13 out of 24 Red Sox on strikes. Schilling… Well… He got the job done, with a little help from his friends. Some heroics from El Capitan were cancelled out by a MONSTER Michael Cuddyer home run.

After the Sox cruelly failed to score for Schilling, it was down to Papelbon to keep us in it, and let me tell you, after he gave up the lead-off double, I was scared. Then I saw what the people over at Cursed And First and Surviving Grady have been talking about. You could practically see the whole infield pin their ears back and grit their teeth. On the very next pitch, the Sox showed us EXACTLY why we don’t miss Kevin Millar. Lew Ford tried to lay a bunt down, and get the winning run on 3rd with 1 out. Youk (my favorite Red Sox) then proceeded to make him look silly by gunning down Luis Castillo at 3rd. Then, John-Boy, as if to say “Thanks But No Thanks,” struck out the next two men to end the inning, including the Current AL Batting Leader.

On to extras, where the Sox tickled and teased. Putting men on with two outs, letting men on with 2 outs. Long fly balls, silly looking strikeouts, an amazing catch on the part of Torii Hunter, and a crazy-insane diving stop by Twins Shortstop Nick Punto to turn an Alex Gonzalez 2 RBI Single into an Alex Gonzalez Run Scoring Fielder’s Choice.

So there they are, up 2-1 in the Bottom of the 12th and who do we pitch? That’s right, he of the 4.60 ERA, he of the Slap-Punch, The Phone Destroyer Himself, Julian Tavarez.

The son-of-a-gun baited me by striking out the aforementioned Current AL Batting Leader. He subsequently killed my spirit by hitting Michael Cuddyer, and giving up a double to Justin Morneau with Torii Hunter on deck. Luckily, the double was of the “ground-rule” sort, so Cuddyer was stopped at 3rd, and Terry Francona made the decision to walk Hunter.

What happened next was not unexpected, but still painful.

Tavarez gave up a soul-crushing blast to a 24 year-old nobody named Jason Kubel, and I promptly switched the channel.

Meanwhile, the Yanks won 1-0.

Unless I wake up to several scantily-clad women offering me bacon and eggs, followed by MacGyver dropping me off at school in a helicopter, tomorrow’s gonna suck.

Tonight’s Red Sox game was painful. Downright gutwrenching. It’s that kind of hurt that doesn’t make you angry, it just makes you sad.

Josh Beckett’s ERA coming in? 4.46. Coming out? A nice even 6. Manny? Done by the 4th inning. David Ortiz? An embarassing 0-Fer.

Weren’t these guys supposed to be Yankee Killers?

Oh well, there are a couple of games like this every season. Of course, we’ve already had 2, and they’ve both come at Josh Beckett’s Expense.

My Father has this saying he throws out every time the shit hits the fan.

Somedays you eat the bear, and some days the bear eats you.

Today, we were DAMN tasty.

But fear not, there are some positives we can take from this game:

Doug Mirabelli hit his first home-run of the season off of one of the AL’s best pitchers (Mussina).

David Riske pitched pretty well in relief, tossing 2.1 innings of 2 hit, no run ball; Although he allowed 3 of Jermain Van Buren’s inherited runners to score.

Mike Timlin did NOT snap and wade into the crowd at Yankee Stadium wearing nothing but a loincloth and a buck knife, earning himself a lifetime ban from Baseball, just when we need him most.

And finally, Dave Pauley pitches tomorrow, so Josh Beckett should look Cy Young Worthy in comparison. I can feel my stomach lining decaying already.

I suppose everybody’s gotta start somewhere. This is Stadium Rat, my own little corner of the Internet where I can ramble on about New England Sports. Patriots? Sure. Red Sox, of course. Celtics/Bruins… Well, I’m not making any promises.

Me? I’m a 17 year old kid living in Southern New Hampshire, going into my Senior year of High School, and working on a Career in Broadcast Journalism, perferably in the field of sports. I Intern for The Russ Francis Show on 107.7 WTPL The Pulse, on Saturday mornings from 9-12, and I’ve got my own T.V. show, Bases Loaded.

Bases Loaded is a Half-Hour program that focuses on the New Hampshire Fisher Cats, the Double-A Affiliate of the Toronto Blue Jays. It’s syndicated to various local access channels around Southern New Hampshire, and we’ve even made the show available for download.

Hopefully, this Blog will be a fun way for me to share and disscuss my personal experiances, and maybe even develop a following along the way. I appreciate your feedback, as this is a work-in-progress and any suggestions and plain old conversations would be great. Thanks a lot for reading, and be sure to check back often.