This is why you should buy generic team jerseys

With great disappointment, my voice joins those of countless others who agree that Manny Ramirez should soon be labeled "Ex-Red Sox Outfielder".

One can crunch numbers and spout off about various SABRE-metric rankings of the best players in the league, but the bottom line is this: currently, Manny does more harm than good, and in the long run, his not being on the Red Sox roster will be a benefit.

The reasons, for anyone who follows baseball, are obvious and cliche: he's a distraction off the field, the media asks his teammates questions that only Ramirez can answer, he doesn't run out ground balls, he doesn't run hard out of the batters' box if he thinks he's hit a homerun, he grandstands, etc.

The "Manny Being Manny" stuff? That's actually not a problem. Talking on a cell phone between innings while hanging out in the Green Monster scoreboard is actually pretty funny. It doesn't affect the game or the play of the team, and it definitely counts toward having a "personality". And "personality" sells tickets and merchandise. Think about it: would Rich Garces have sold any t-shirts as a late inning reliever if he hadn't been a big fat guy nicknamed "El Guapo"? So personality is great, yes. I love it.

But Ramirez has taken his circus act in another direction altogether. If it is true that he intentionally took three straight pitches (all called strikes) in a late-inning pinch hit at-bat against the Yankees a couple of weeks ago in order to "get back" at the Red Sox and its owners, then he's clearly affecting his team's chances of winning. Twenty-three other players, plus coaches and trainers, dedicate their careers to one simple goal: winning ballgames. Ramirez, to prove some kind of point and take a measure of ill-advised "revenge" against the ownership, intentionally took action to hurt the team's chances to do so.

Along those lines, I read an article somewhere on Boston.com about the days off Ramirez has taken this season, whether via "faked injury" or otherwise. If I can dig up the link, I'll post it. The article said that Ramirez repeatedly took time out of the lineup on days when the opposing pitcher was a hard thrower. He skipped Edinson Volquez against the Reds, Justin Verlander against the Sox, Felix Hernandez against the Mariners (twice, if I remember correctly), and so on.

Again, when the Sox needed him most, he said "nope" and took a seat on the bench. Not helping his team win games.

That's not heart. That's not what the Red Sox is all about - at least, not the Sox I romanticize them being in my head.

I am not so naive to think that players aren't out there playing for their contracts. With free agency, every one of these guys is a mercenary. With rare exception, players are going to spend time in three or four different cities before their careers are over. The days of Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn spending their entire playing careers in one city are in the rearview mirror and getting further away with every passing second (shh! Nobody tell Jason Varitek I said that!). Fine, I get it.

But at least respect your teammates and your fans. Play hard and at least run hard down the baseline if you're getting paid more in one game than most people make in an entire year. We buy the tickets, we buy the t-shirts, we buy the overpriced concessions at the ball park to pay guys like Ramirez, and what does he do? Shows us contempt.

He's got to go.

Curt Schilling put his career on the line against the Yankees in the famous bloody sock game. He understood. Like him or not, Schilling "gets it".

If Mike Lowell somehow was shot in the shoulder half-way through the first game of a double header, he'd want to go out and still play the second game.

Jason Varitek catches an inhuman number of games every year, sacrificing his body by wearing out his knees and lower back before he even turns 40. Why? Because he loves the game and respects it.

Manny? He claims the Sox are trying to make him look like a "bad guy", like they did with Nomar Garciaparra and Pedro Martinez. He claims the Sox are trying to run him out of town.

No, Manny. Dan Duquette tried to make Mo Vaughn look bad when he hired a private investigator to follow Vaughn to strip clubs. But when you push the team's traveling secretary to the ground because you didn't get as many comp tickets to a game as you wanted, you make yourself look bad.

As far as Nomar and Pedro go, go back to the Yankee game when the team was on the top step breathlessly awaiting every pitch, and Nomar was by himself sulking on the bench. Go back to the 2004 off-season when the Sox said that they'd love to bring Pedro back, but not for four years, and not for the money he was asking for given his shoulder issues (the Mets made the mistake of falling for it - go look at how much time he's spent on the DL since he signed with them).

We all have different perspectives on these issues - Manny was friends with those guys, and I've never met them personally. We're bound to disagree on some of the causes. But I find it funny that guys like Ramirez who leave other clubs as free agents all sign contracts and say to former teams, sorry ... it wasn't personal. It's just business. But when the team trades or doesn't re-sign a player's friends, somehow it's not "just business" to the player - the teams are "out to get" them.


Whatever.

Manny: Maybe, as you say, the Red Sox "don't deserve players" like you. But you definitely deserve playing for 13,000 apathetic fans in Miami.

In all sincerity, thanks for the two World Series championships you helped bring to Boston. It was fun while it lasted.

But, just as the Patriots made it to the Superbowl after Adam Vinitieri left to join the Colts, I think we'll get along just fine and will enjoy our next World Series with or without you, this year or some other.

You'll be missed, but not as much as you might think.

Sharp Dressed Man / Heeere's JOEY!

Per popular demand (i.e., J.D. specifically, who forcefully demanded "And yes, post t-shirt photos"), I've posted a gallery of my two-plus drawers full of t-shirts, with liner notes.

Additionally, here are two videos of our dog Joey. These were taken last week.

Totally grungified

Genetics are a bitch.

Sometime during my senior year in high school, or maybe it was late in my junior year, I decided I wanted to grow my hair long. My parents didn't mind (at least, if they did they never told me; my brother came home with a nose ring after Lollapalooza '93, for instance, and that didn't last long ...), so I went for it.

Plus, it was the beginning of the grunge era. I'm not saying I was a sheep, but given my age at the time and my love for that style of music (which has lasted to this very day), it shouldn't have surprised anyone that my look stuck around for a while. I kept it longish until my senior year at B.U.

A quick aside: my biggest fashion regrets of that era are that, like almost every college-aged guy, I experimented with goofy facial hair. Inexcusable. Absolutely inexcusable. I cringe at some of the old photos I see. Goatees are nobody's friends.

My second regret is that I had a pretty cool collection of what would now be considered vintage concert tour shirts. The years reduced many to tatters, and some just disappeared (I suspect laundry room shenanigans from my grandmother). But man, I wish I still had my "Fables" era R.E.M. shirt, my "Facelift" Alice In Chains shirt, my "Pretty Hate Machine" NIN shirt, and my red "God Fodder" Ned's Atomic Dustbin shirt. NED'S ATOMIC DUSTBIN, PEOPLE! I HAD ONE!

I had so many. I really did. And I still do, just updated for a new era. I still have a few of the vintage ones, but they're dying away, too. In fact, just this week, I decided I had to put down my purple Dinosaur Jr shirt because the collar was stretched out and the stitching was all coming loose.

Actually, for my own archives, I think it might be fun to take pictures of all the t-shirts I currently own and post them as a gallery for all to see (and mock). Despite many of the photos I've posted here and there in the past, not all of my t-shirts have a Red Sox logo on them (though it sure does seem like it). I have a nerdy classic for almost every occasion.

Anyway, genetics. My brother got the physical characteristics of my mom's side of the family, but I definitely looked (and still do) a lot like my dad. I realize that the hair-loss gene is spread through the mother's side of the family, but I'm not convinced. Knowing what my dad's hair situation was, I was ready. Not looking forward to it, of course, but ready. Sure enough, after college, I found myself having a lot more in common with Wally Joyner than I had expected. (Ned's Atomic Dustbin and Wally Joyner? In one post? You know it!) During my senior year of college, I could tell that my hairline near my temples was working its way backwards. By my late 20s, it was in full retreat.

So, as most of you have known me in recent years, my hair is now short, if not occasionally completely shaved off. I'm not happy about it, but at least I own up to it. It's unavoidable, and as I used to joke, my last name is "Comeau", not "Comeau-ver" (say it out loud, and maybe it's funny. I don't know.)

Why do I mention all of this?

Because my good friend my arch-enemy Jessica had to go bring back all kinds of great memories ruin my life by digging up an old photo of me with my wonderful, glorious full head of hair.

So, second from the left, here's a little bit of proof that I did, in fact, have long hair. This is from June 1992, 16 years ago - literally almost to the day. I owe another post about June of '92, which I still consider to be one of the most fun months of my life, and the people who made it so special to me. And yes. My buddy Andy, in the back? He's actually 8'5" tall. Swear to god.





As a side note, man ... Now that I'm bald and hideous, I realize I looked pretty good at the time. Dammit all. Seriously, what the hell happened to me?

I'm flattered, but not actually eligible this time around ...

Batman and Me

This weekend can't get here fast enough.

I don't know if I qualify as anything more than your average "interested party", at this point, given how big this "Dark Knight" phenomenon has become. Certainly I understand the unfortunate morbid fascination that the media has with Heath Ledger's death, and I understand that this summer is the "Summer of the Comic Book Hero" in movie theaters. But there's more to it than just that for me.

I'm not what anyone would consider a "fan boy", at least I hope not. I don't read every graphic novel that's released, I don't know the storylines of any current comic books (not anymore, at least), and I wouldn't dare get into an argument about which second-tier villains are superior to others. I don't know, and I don't care.

But Batman has always been my favorite "superhero", and the Joker my favorite "super-villain".

Of the comic books I collected during that brief phase in high school, the great majority were Batman and Detective Comics. I started reading them a few months before the Joker killed Jason Todd (the second Robin, after Dick Grayson became Nightwing), and I started to realize at that point that "serious" stories told well on an illustrated page could be as spellbinding as any novel or film.

At the time my interest spiked, the Joker, with whom I had only a mental association with Cesar Romero on the old, goofy TV show, became a complete and total (and terrifying) psychopath. Or maybe he had become one well before I got interested, I don't know. But to me at the time, it was a revelation.

The Joker killed the Boy Wonder.

In "The Killing Joke", he put Jim Gordon's daughter in a wheelchair.

There was no good and no evil in the Joker's world. He was just insane in his desire for anarchy and destruction. And man, did he hate the Batman.

Then Tim Burton's movies came out, and they were a lot of fun. They were definitely darker than the show, and - while somewhat warped (Burton movies are Burton movies for a reason) - more along the lines of the gritty comic books. Nicholson as the Joker was fun casting, and the character officially became an icon.

I kept collecting the books for a while, had a couple of Batman logo t-shirts, got Prince's soundtrack, and even bought a cardboard standee of Michael Keaton as Batman - a prize that I believe still stands in the basement of my mom's house, just outside of what used to be my bedroom.

(Before you judge me harshly, please remember that I was just 15 at the time. Some kids experiment with drugs or sex at that age, but I was in my basement worrying about if I had enough cash to buy backing boards to put in my comic sleeves. That's just the way it was.)

I grew up and went to college, and became a girl-phobic, socially awkward creature of another kind (the kind that lived in a dorm, rather than his parents' basement). I "grew out" of comic books for many years (mostly because I had no money), and I don't even want to talk about George Clooney, Val Kilmer, Arnold Schwarzenegger, or Joel Shumacher.

In college, I became a film nerd. These were the pre-DVD days, and I was the guy with the collection of VHS movies that other people in the dorm would borrow. My good friend Jon worked in a video store and had access to a laserdisc player, so I became a fan of watching letterboxed movies at home and not just in the theater. I became aware not only of movies and the actors, but of the people who made them - the directors, producers, and movie studios. And at the time, a new generation of young filmmakers was establishing itself. Who was Kevin Smith, and what other movies did he make? (Oh, none before Clerks? Hmm ...) Did this Tarantino guy make anything prior to Reservoir Dogs? (What do you mean, no?)

And those who knew me at the time don't need to be reminded of my love at the time for the Evil Dead films (Sam Raimi, anyone?) and Dead Alive (Peter Jackson), as I forced them all to watch these gross, over-the-top semi-horror movies.

So fast forward to 2000, as a newly transplanted resident of Central Square in Cambridge. Within walking distance was the Kendall Square theater, which tended to play smaller, less well-known art-house films than the big chains. There was a weird, time-shifting movie that I'd read about in the Boston Phoenix that sounded unusually interesting called Memento, starring Guy Pearce, who had co-starred in one of my absolute favorite movies of all time, L.A. Confidential. Everyone knows about that movie now, of course, but at the time it was one of those lightning-in-a-bottle movies. Where did this come from? At the Kendall, I had to wait a couple of weeks to see it - it literally sold out showing after showing at this relatively smallish venue. And when I finally saw it, I was completely blown away. This was amazing!

And who was this Chris Nolan dude?

A few years later, it was announced that the Batman franchise was going to be re-launched, and Nolan was going to direct.

Everyone knows the rest.

So here we are, days from the release of The Dark Knight. A fantastic director, my favorite superhero, and my favorite super-villain.

Sure, Iron Man was fun, and I knew I'd see it eventually. Pixar can do no wrong, so I looked forward to checking out Wall-E. I'd seen a bunch of movies at the Morristown run of the "New York Film Critics Present ..." series a couple of months back. But they all lacked one key aspect, to me at least: anticipation.

I'd have waited in agonizing anticipation for this movie even if it didn't have such a tragic storyline underneath the actual film.

Batman and the Joker are going to go after each other this weekend.

I am 15 again.

I cannot wait.

Bush's banana

see Obama pictures

Let's Get Physical

So that was uneventful.

I got to the doctors' office at 8:45 yesterday morning for my 9:00 a.m. physical, and the door was locked. After paperwork and waiting, I finally got to see my new PCP a little after 9:30. I proceded to bore him to tears, I suspect.

My family history, as far as I know, consists primarily of my father and his father dying of heart attacks - a concern, true enough, but they were both smokers (my grandfather had quit by the time I was born, I think, but I'm sure some damage had been done; my father was a pack-a-day kind of guy, and I was never quiet about my disdain for his habit).

On the other hand, I've never directly smoked anything in my life (not out of experimentation, peer pressure, or anything else). I say "directly", because living in a house with smoking parents and having spent countless nights at various bars watching bands play before smoking bans were instituted couldn't have been too healthy. My doctor says that smoking can increase the rate of artery build-up of something or other as much as four times, so I figure I'm doing OK as far as all that goes. Plus, I go to the gym regularly, so I feel like my heart's in pretty good shape.

Any pains? Nope. Allergic to any medications? Not as far as I know, and I can't even remember the last time I was prescribed anything (it would have been by a pediatrician, it's been so long). Regular headaches? Nope. Drug use? Not a single bit. "Exposure" at a work environment? Only to papercuts and co-workers, for whom there was (sadly) no cure.

Nope, no, uh-uh, never, no.

I could stand to lose a few pounds, I said ("but who couldn't"), but I explained that I'm 25-30 lbs. lighter than I was at my worst period, in the couple of years right after college. I also asked him to check a strange little bump on the back of my head that I've had forever (it causes no pain and doesn't bleed, but I don't like the way it looks if I shave my head), but he said he didn't think it looked worrisome.

Then they took some blood and urine, the doctor checked my man-parts, and a nurse gave me a cardio electrograph or electrogram or something or other. They put a bunch of little pads on my chest and something started printing on the machine. It hardly seemed scientific, but what do I know. It, like my blood pressure, was "totally normal."

The only thing the doctor recommended was to undergo a "Cardiac Calcium Scoring" test, based on my family history and - believe it or not - the folds on my ear lobes. How researchers figure these things out is beyond me. Ear folds? Seriously?

So fine, I guess I have that to look forward to.

Just a few minutes ago, my bloodwork results came back and I got a call from one of the nurses, who said that my results were "absolutely normal". I saved the voice mail, so Nicole can hear it directly if she wants to, in the hopes that it'll put her mind at ease a bit. She's been (justifiably) on me to have a check-up, given how long it's been since my last physical.

So the bottom line is this: I may not be as cool as Lemmy Kilmeister (and, frankly, never will be), but I could beat him in a footrace. I'm as strong as an ox, but not quite as good looking. And given my current physicial condition, I should be around for a good long time so long as I keep up my good habits.

Which probably means I'll be killed by lightning this weekend.

It's been nice knowing everyone!

On becoming a grumpy old man

For the record, the following is being written while: 1> Nicole is out of town, so it's just me and my dog at home (and my boredom, which I think is taking tangible form); and 2> I haven't eaten anything for several hours, because I'm fasting prior to a physical that I have scheduled in the morning. They're taking blood, so I'm not allowed to eat. With the exception of a trip to urgent care to have an ear lavage, I have not seen a doctor - seriously - in at least 15 years. So that should be interesting.

Anyway, I want to think that eventually everything in New Jersey will even out, and I'll feel "at home" here, but it's not happening. Not yet.

I shouldn't complain too much, I suppose - when Aaron moved to Belgium, for instance. THAT's a move. Holy cow. New currency, crazy time zones, frites stands ... well, OK, he's got me on the frites stands. It's probably better off we don't have those here. But still, I can't imagine what that must be like. And to top it off, the poor guy doesn't get Sox games and didn't get to see the Celtics win the NBA Championship.

It's just frustrating knowing that, even though my friends are my friends and (with any luck) always will be, "giving them up" for any length of time never gets easier. I look at my "Friend Wheel" on Facebook and I'm overwhelmed at the quality of people on there, and it's neat to see how many different "circles" of friends I could claim to be a part of. But the thing I notice most of all is that, with one obvious major exception, none of them are in New Jersey.

I used to complain on my old Diaryland blog all those years ago about never feeling alone (given that I was always surrounded by my buddies), but of feeling lonely (in the sense that I was looking for that "special someone"). Now it's pretty much the exact opposite. I feel more and more alone out here.

And I know I haven't tried as hard as I have in the past to meet new people and get involved, but I always lived in the city, where there were events and activities. Not in the 'burbs. I always could find some little who-knows-what that I had in common to spark even the briefest of conversations in a coffee shop (of which there are two, usually filled with teenagers).

There's no such thing as a good "local band" here. The popular bars "downtown" seem to both be wanna-be Irish pubs (though I've never been to either, so that's perhaps unfair). There's one music shop, but the selection is limited at best (and the "sale" price is in the $14 range).

I feel like I'm surrounded by parents and their kids, assholes on bluetooth earpieces, and horrible/horribly aggressive drivers. I used to be surrounded by people my age who also loved the Red Sox, both in Boston (obviously) and in Portland. The things one takes for granted ...

It's funny, in a way. I was so sad to leave Boston, and I couldn't imagine Portland taking it's place, but I gave it a try and loved every second of it. Then I was sad to leave Portland, but I figured New Jersey would be another adventure, so why not try that out too. I'm sure my opinion will have changed by the time the next phase comes around, but for now, I can't imagine being sad to leave here. I know it's a short-term sacrifice for a long-term gain, but I'm really struggling with it these days. More than I expected I would.

What a Fourth of July!

It's too late in the day to write a full blog entry right now, but here's a teaser of what's to come:

For anyone who has ever watched the show, this is super cool. For those who haven't, what are you waiting for?

More on Monday - LOTS more. What a fun weekend!