Weekly Recap

I thank you all for taking the time to provide me with some of your time. I hope I am able to entertain with my rapid take on the past week in the world of sports.       

Since the 2004 season, the Boston Red Sox have had the rare decided edge in their rivalry with the New York Yankees. Last year, a major piece to the Sox championship success was their late-innings relievers and their dynamic closer, Jonathan Papelbon. Because Papelbon, 27, has thrived in his first two All-Star-caliber seasons in the majors, he recently claimed that he is at the top of his profession and his contract should been indicative of his status as the game’s best out of the bullpen.

"I feel a certain obligation to not only myself and my family to make the money I deserve but for the game of baseball - I mean, Mariano Rivera has been doing it for the past 10 years," said Papelbon. "With me coming up behind him, I feel a certain obligation to do the same. And, yeah, I'm at the mercy of the club right now to a certain extent. But you know, it's just a matter of ironing out the numbers and we haven't ironed them out yet. Hopefully we can get a mutual agreement."

There is no argument that Papelbon is a great talent and he likely is in fact the best closer in the game at this particular juncture. But, make no mistake, he has some brass and audacity to even place his name next to the best closer in the history of the sport of baseball. When the Yankees whirlwind pitcher began dominating the sport in 1995, Papelbon was a 14 year old kid from Louisiana probably masturbating to the female cast (I hope) of Friends. Papelbon has been excellent since being called-up in 2005 and I am sure that he will excel in his profession for years to come. But, to date, his resume exhibits one good postseason and one homoerotic “riverdance” performance that New Englanders have come to cherish. Say what you will, but that pedigree sounds just a tad underwhelming in comparison to the Sandman's and Papelbon needs to stop going "off to never never land." ·        

Within the past week alone, New York Yankees owner Hank Steinbrenner has sparred verbally with persons within the Boston Red Sox and Tama Bay Rays organizations. Don't get me wrong, I am an enormous supporter of the brazen chain-smoker and his candid bluster. But, sometimes enough yammering is enough yammering. Hankenstein needs to become more selective when it comes to deciding what battles he wants to wage. As Proposition Joe Stewart once said on HBO's the Wire, "You stir up a bees nest, there ain't no tellin' who's gonna get stung." Pick and choose your battles with wise selection, Hank. Pick and choose.         

The New York Jets have spent like Eliot Spitzer on whores so far this off-season and their splurge has agitated a number of Jets veteran players who feel like they should be compensated before newcomers to the team are. Are the fumes and toxins from the Jersey swamps officially getting to the men from East Rutherford or what? The Jets went 4-12 last season and they have been among the worst teams in the NFL in two of the past three seasons. So, how can these traditional losers have the moxie to bellyache about anything? When your record stands at 18-30 since 2005, you should shut your mouth and express gratitude for even maintaining employment. Like usual, the Gang Green roster seems to be diseased.         

It was nice to see Boston Mayor Thomas Michael Menino attend the 107th annual St. Patrick's Day Parade in South Boston Sunday. After all, his premature parade arrangements for the New England Patriots Super Bowl championship did not exactly materialize seamlessly.         

Now that the Los Angeles Lakers are back among the NBA's elite, one needs to wonder if their whiny superstar, Kobe Bryant, still wants General Manager Mitch Kupchak's balls in a vice.  

Unknown professional golfer Tripp Isenhour was charged with cruelty to animals last week after killing a red-shouldered hawk because of noises the bird was making while he was filming his “Shoot like a Pro” instructional video. According to witnesses, Isenhour began driving balls towards the hawk in an attempt to get it to fly off into the sky. After firing off approximately nine-shots, Isenhour drove a ball that struck the hawk in the side of the head causing the bird to fall 75-feet to the ground. The hawk bled from both nostrils as it lay on the golf course dying. Granted, like Isenhour said, it was likely a “one-in-a-million” shot that he couldn’t replicate if he tried. Nevertheless, I kind of wish Alfred Hitchcock’s movie the Bird’s came to truth during that one moment. Now, that would be “one-in-a-million.” ·        

Thanks again for reading my work. Without your readership, I’d have zero reason to write.