Friday, August 31, 2001
Wounded Dogs limp home.
...after being lost for days on the road. Sit on bases to the bitter end.
Now the last stand begins. Can they rise against Roger?
Thursday, August 30, 2001
This Is The End?
The Dirt Dogs only friend, the end. Getting eerie feelings from Lake Erie.
Wednesday, August 29, 2001
Dogs lie down, roll over for Tribe.
Left for dead in the Flats of Cleveland. No Nomar, No chance.
Tuesday, August 28, 2001
Manny (Happy?) Returns.
33 games left to play. Plenty of time, but no time to lose.
Jacobs ...Field of Dreams?
Monday, August 27, 2001
Arlington road is a dead end.
Still dog-tired from all-nighter, Sox stumble out of Dodge.
Oh and The Mound Dog returned (sort of).
Need Daug-back now! So Manny questions...
Sunday, August 26, 2001
the TExas Mess
Achy Breaky Heartbreaker ends as Sox can't get to 19, 18 ends it. Big Hassle, but Sun also rises.
O Nomar, Manny, wherefore art thou? Deny thy Nation and refuse thy game?
Saturday, August 25, 2001
How you feelin'? TROT! trot! trot!
How you feelin'? Trot! Trot! Trot! Olé Olé, OléOléOlé... Olé Olé, OléOléOlé...
Friday, August 24, 2001
DOGS RUN WILD!
Ugueth it! Sox rally to beat bad Rapp, Angels. Troy, K-9, Belli Huge.
Thursday, August 23, 2001
Sweep Dreams Interrupted
...by recurring ugh-ly nightmare.
Wednesday, August 22, 2001
dogs BACK IN THE HUNT!
Miribelli was full (after dinner). And so were the bases when he crushed it.
Sweep the Angels right back. What the hell.
Tuesday, August 21, 2001
dogs still have some bite left.
won't roll over, play dead.
Sweep the Angels right back. What the hell.
Monday, August 20, 2001
dogs leg left (COAST). tAIL BETWEEN lEGS.
Is this the end for Manny's Best Friends?
Sunday, August 19, 2001
ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD.
And make it a double... triple... home run. These birds are pigeons.
The bats will come alive during the day.
Saturday, August 18, 2001
MIGHTY CASEY WILL JUST STRIKE THEM OUT.
Best of luck to the Fos Hound today. Hunt down those birds like a cat.
And click here to read Ernest Lawrence Thayer's Casey at the Bat.
Friday, August 17, 2001
EVERY DOG HAS HIS DAY. cONGRATULATIONS jOE k.
We're with you all the way... to October. Dogs get off on the right paw.
Bichette Happens! Sox win!
Thursday August 16, 2001
DON'T LET ALICE SELE BEAT YOU LIKE A DOG.
Salvage the last game. Send gutless Alice, Seattle a message.
Bottle it for October.
Wednesday, August 15th
IF THEY'VE GOT AN ICHIRO...
Scratch him! Bite him if you have to!
Let's go Fenway Frank. The Nation turns its lonely eyes to you.
Tuesday, August 14th
can dogs paddle mariners?
Nomo gettin' lucky for M's, Moyer. Sox Southpaw Slump ends.
Seattle slew of losses begins.
Sunday/Monday August 12th/13th
Good news: The Mound Dog looked strong in his 60-pitch workout Saturday.
Very bad news: TekDog, who embodies the spirit of the Dirt Dogs like no other, is lost.
Saturday, August 11th
DOGS IN THE CAT BIRD SEAT?
Let's see if they can control Towers today.
Friday, August. 10th
SOUTHPAW SLUMP CONTINUES.
And so does the back-and-forth sweep streak. Here's hoping there's one more sweep in our favor. Let the Dogs out in the Yards this weekend (but can't send them out on a night like this).
Thursday, Aug. 9th
BALL IN A CUP? time for a cone.
The A's have it, while the Dogs (jet) lag behind. And old Sabes new tricks were just smoke and mirrors.
Another must win this afternoon for the new old dog... the unstoppable, unflappable David Cone.
Wednesday, Aug. 8th
Dogs still can't get lefties right.
But SouthPaw Pulse was crafty, nasty; Spike filled in nice; and Trot was tops again.
And I relish the thought of Fenway Frank pouring on the mustard tonight.
Tuesday, Aug. 7th
Life is Grand. Let's take the East before coming back from the West.
Monday, Aug. 6th
SWEEP THROUGH THE HEART OF TEXAS.
Nomo wild card talk. Let's focus on first!
Sunday, Aug. 5th
SPIKE AND TROY TAKE A BOW...WOW.
Sox take two! Rolandog does bite today. And let the winning streak continue.
Saturday, Aug. 4th
It WAS Raining Cats and Dirt Dogs.
So "let's win two" today. And let the winning streak continue.
Friday, Aug. 3rd
Wake Don’t LET THESE SLEEPING DOGS LIE.
Let’s mess with Texas on Friday. And let the winning streak begin.
Thursday, Aug. 2nd
Let's go sabes. Old Dog, New Tricks.
They have to win tonight. I'm going to the game with my dad.
Wednesday, August 1st
UGUETH IT! sOX GET uRBINA.
But are bedeviled by Angels. Fear not, the Dog Days of Summer are upon us today.
Sunday, September 30, 2001
Will Brady's Bunch show some punch?
Or will Pats mail it in like the Kerrigan clan? News flash: Sox lose to Detroit again,
having pre-game meeting today. Look out Tigers.
Saturday, September 29, 2001
Just playing out the string. And stringing us along.
Sox finally fall to .500 on the season. But spring training, new faces, fresh start
is only five months away.
Friday, September 28, 2001
Was that Jimy talking? Something's rotten in Denmark... and at Fenway. Not-such-an-Iron-Manny misses Cal's last stand and the final home game. That's the thanks we get for showing up in record numbers. Nice farewell.
Dan's Marionette PinocciJoe said: "...these fans are really proud of their team." Huh?
Thursday, September 27, 2001
Talk about your Day of Atonement. The clan perched up on Yawkey Way
needs at least a High Holy Month to reflect on their sins.
I Trust they won't be back at Fenway after tonight.
Wednesday, September 26, 2001
Wait 'till next year's litter.
It's official (but well known since The Texas Mess on August 25th).
For the 83rd straight year (and those aren't dog years mind you),
they've been barking up the wrong tree.
Tuesday, September 25, 2001
Kerrigan blames 'eavesdropping' (Edesdropping?) media for Sox woes.
Promises to keep all of us less informed next year. Thankfully we can get all the news we need from redsox.com... no thanks.
You go Gordon.
Monday, September 24, 2001
Sunday Bloody Sunday.
You too Drew? O'Leary and Bledsoe drew blood, sweat. Tears for the rest of us.
Do we now look to the hapless Bruins or Celtics to get us to Spring Training?
Or only focus on the real heroes heading to war?
Sunday, September 23, 2001
'The Truth' was stranger than fiction.
But it's the end of the line for Everett. The chapter on Carl is closed.
And even though the Sox have $16 million reasons to keep him around next year,
they must find him a new place to dwell. We won't be fooled,
and Carl can't come home, again.
Saturday, September 22, 2001
I read the news today.
What Carl said about Joe... just say it ain't so.
And Martinez was mad and had to go. Manny is sad... wants to bail out as well.
The train wreck of a season continues, and we're stuck in Dysfunction Junction for 2002
if John-Gone doesn't sell.
Friday, September 21, 2001
Pick of the Litter?
Cal rips one out. But is he Mo Vaughn or Sam Horn? Carl on the way out. Kick him to the curb if you have to.
Thursday, September 20, 2001
El Guapo Flips, Flops. Reality Bites.
Time to put Dogs to sleep until next year. And here's hoping Carl's time is up.
The real Truth: Oakland 30 games over .500, Sox are only three over... and out.
Wednesday, September 19, 2001
Baseball is back,
as we must go forth.
Dirt Dogs roll up sleeves, socks. Show true colors: red, white, and blue. John-Gone Harrington stops being yellow
and makes an appearance. Will he speak soon?
Tuesday, September 18, 2001
But hate Carl "The Truth Hurts" Everett. And where-oh-where is John-Gone Harrington? Where-oh-where can he be?
Monday, September 17, 2001
Shut Carl Up, Down.
And ship him out of town with Duquette. No excuse acceptable for the latest Mt. Everett eruption.
Thursday, September 13th - Sunday, September 16, 2001
Our National Symbol
Fly your flag high until justice has been served. We will resume baseball-related activity on Monday.
Tuesday, September 11 - Wednesday, September 12, 2001
Moment of silence.
Please conduct a personal moment of silence for the innocent victims lost in this tragedy.
Monday, September 10, 2001
"Slip sliding away,
slip sliding away, you know the nearer your destination, the more you slip sliding away... we're workin' our jobs, collect our pay. Believe we're gliding down the highway, when in fact we're slip sliding away"
— 2001 Boston Red Sox
Sunday, September 9, 2001
Like the old 'new economy', Dogs may not have hit rock bottom yet. Let's just call it Fall Spring Training for 2002.
And let's Go Pats.
We need something to cheer about today.
Saturday, September 8, 2001
"Shut it Down"
...is the new battle-cry for September after Bronx tale turns into same old story at the plate.
The Mound Dog is sick. The Old Dog retires. The Dirt Dogs are mad.
Friday, September 7, 2001
Indians collar Dogs again.
a.k.a., football season, is here.
Stifled by another old southpaw, late rally falls short.
Short-sighted Duquette, still hanging on by a thread.
Thursday September 06, 2001
Trot comes through. Bad stretch over. Are Dogs finished? Is Duke done?
Sleeping bats finally wake up. Nation no longer taxed by losing streak. Signs, signs, everywhere signs...
but does Duke get the message? Harrington remains hidden.
Wednesday, September 05, 2001
Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine...
and counting. And The Nation is also counting on a Duke resignation by the end of the week. Give it up Dan, the double-talk days are over. Time to move on. Mike Port, your ship has come in.
John Harrington: sell, sell, sell.
Tuesday September 04, 2001
Duke chases his own tail.
But can't cover it any longer. Dogs need a new owner and a fresh start in April.
Let's pick up after this pack... then put them to sleep.
Monday, September 03, 2001
Driving us to drink after sobering weekend.
Duke, the straw that stirs this sour cocktail, has no one left to blame.
John Harrington, last seen at the BC 40-yard-line, remains on the sideline.
Last call John. Game's over. Sell the team. Go home.
Sunday September 02, 2001
"...we'll see if there's any fight left in the Dirt Dogs,
and if the Dirt Dogs are left in the fight."
Well Bob Lobel, the answer my friend isn't blowin' in the wind anymore.
Put away the 'Panic Button', bring out the zipper...
and close up the body bag.
Saturday September 01, 2001
Say it ain't so Joe!
Fenway Frank was not done, still had plenty of mustard on the ball.
But Dogs cooked in 8th as Yanks catch-up.
Stick a fork in 'em, they're done now.