Tim McCarver Has A Tired Groin

Tim McCarver has a tired groin. More to follow...

It's been a while. I'd like to apologize to our loyal readers for our long absence. Andrew is living it up over in Israel right now. His girlfriend was worried that he'd meet a nice Jewish girl. I'm more worried he'll meet an angry Palestinian.

Today, Tarc and I went on our First Official Golf Outing of the Summer. The first three holes were fantastic. We felt on top of the world. The match was shaping up to be a close battle between two evenly matched foes. And then number four came along. Number four: the bane of my existence. This hole single handedly destroyed our confidence as golfers just like Wily Mo Pena destroys any chance at a base on balls. (Everytime an announcer says "and Wily Mo strikes out swinging" somebody donates a dollar to something. We could cure diabetes people!) After this hole Tarc and I were merely trying to finish the round and make it to Wing Street. Thrown clubs, lost balls, and the enforcement of the "Ladies Tee" rule was witnessed on this woe some excuse of a golf outing. For the sake of our pride I will not report the exact score of this outing, but suffice it to say we both had real integers between 0 and 47 trillion.

And so two tired, sweaty, defeated golfers sullenly strode into Wing Street. This was the second time I've been there, and both times I've acted like a total deer in headlights when the cute hostess asked if we were dining in. I think this time I awkwardly held up a reversed peace sign that was supposed to indicate there were two of us, but more than likely indicated my complete dorky-ness. After waiting an interminable amount of time to be waited on, we came to the conclusion that our waitress either hates her job with a passion or was having the worst day ever. The Red Sox were being shown on ESPN as the game was coming back from a rain delay. Just as it came back on the Sox got the bases loaded, and Mike Lowell gave a nice, clean elbow to Robbie Cano knocking Cano to the ground. A few innings later (and me resting comfortably on the living room couch of the Mayor's Mansion) Mike Lowell inadvertently collided with Doug Mientkiewicz's head. It was downright bad. Dougie M. lay on the ground for a while with the Yankees clustering around him and Fox disgracefully replaying the shot a thousand different times from a thousand different angles. Disgusting. I hate to take the lead like this. Thankfully, the Yankees bullpen remembered it was time to start imploding. This was combined with the Yankees infield regressing to Little League and forgetting where to stand and Bobby "I'm-afraid-of-a-wall" Abreu living up to his not-so-creative nickname.

During this time the announcers, Joe Buck and the Human Mute Button (Tim McCarver) brought up everyone's favorite topic: Roger Clemens. It seems the old fart has, as Tim McCarver described, a tired groin. In the words of McCarver, "a lot of pitchers pitch with a tired groin everyday. I don't see what kind of problem a tired groin poses." Please, America, tell me you laughed at this as hard as I did. Red Sox fans, please also rejoice that the Yankees have, indeed, thrown even more money down the toilet by paying for the tired groin to come back to New York in the first ever recorded instance of a rat jumping ON to a sinking ship.

And so as the "Yankees Suck!" cheer erupts around Fenway the Red Sox roll to their 37th win. I hope Dougie M. is ok, and I hope none of you out there are bothered by a tired groin.

-Flig