Monday, July 27, 2015

Shank's Victory Lap

After Boston mayor Marty Walsh nuked the 2024 Boston Summer Olympics, Shank does his end-zone dance, and rightly so.
Mercifully, our short regional nightmare is over.

Kaput. Done. Ov-ah.

The ridiculous notion that we might play host to the 2024 Olympics officially died Monday afternoon when the United States Olympic Committee and Boston 2024 announced they’d mutually agreed to withdraw the Boston bid. Thank goodness. Free at last. This was one of the worst ideas since Bob Kraft told us he was moving the Patriots to Hartford. It was obvious from Day One that Boston 2024 was doomed.

Better sooner than later. Mayor of Boston Marty Walsh cut his losses early Monday when he informed the world that our city was not willing to give the USOC the financial guarantees it would need to present Boston as a bid city for 2024. A few hours later, the death of Boston’s bid was official.
In a rare departure from our masthead, go forth and read this entire column, for a rare moment or two of insight and eloquence from Shank is revealed:
We don’t need this. We never needed this. The Olympics have become the province of autocratic societies. That is not us. We are a free people.
The death of Boston 2024 is a victory for the Hub of the Universe. It’s a triumph for rational thought. It’s a statement that we are not stupid.

Faster, Higher, Stronger. That’s the Olympic motto.

Smarter. That’s the Boston motto. Good luck to the host city of the 2024 Games. It’s not our problem anymore.
Sadly, from here he will digress from this statesmanship into petty hatred of the New England Patriots once a) the NFL decision on Tom Brady is handed down and / or b) training camp opens up.

It was nice while it lasted...

What A Difference Three Hours Makes

Shank's tweet on Boston Mayor Marty Walsh, discussing opposition to the Boston bid for the 2024 Olympic Games:

Boston Herald's headline, three hours later:

Boston Bid for Olympics is over after Walsh Speech

I can't wait to hear why Walsh had an apparent and sudden change of heart. Until then, RIP, Boston 2024!

Sunday, July 26, 2015

Hall of Shame

The CHB's column on Pedro Martinez's induction today to the Baseball Hall of Fame is sterile in its mindless recitation of Pedro's stats and moronic for calling him, yet again, a diva. Classy.

If there were a Boston Racist Hall of Fame, The CHB would get my vote.

Friday, July 24, 2015

No To Boston 2024

Shank watched last night's debate between the big guns of the pro and con Boston 2024 camps and devotes his latest column to it.

This blog agrees with the No to Boston 2024 side, and Shank continues to take this same stance. Hell has just opened a new gate!
Memorable debates.

There was Lincoln-Douglas. Kennedy-Nixon. Will Ferrell’s “Frank the Tank” vs. James Carville in “Old School.”

And now Steve Pagliuca and Daniel Doctoroff vs. Chris Dempsey and Andrew Zimbalist in the Boston 2024 Olympic debate, which aired Thursday night on Fox 25.

We tuned in hoping for one of those famous debate moments — something like Gerald Ford claiming there was no Soviet domination of Eastern Europe, or Ronald Reagan stating, “I am paying for this microphone.’’ We would have even settled for Pags spanking Dempsey with, “I knew Red Auerbach. Red Auerbach was a friend of mine. You, sir, are no Red Auerbach.’’

The best we got was Zimbalist saying, “Most of the numbers I look at reflect drunken optimism.’’

Ouch. That one hurt
Good column by Shank... look - another gate just opened!

Thursday, July 23, 2015

The Concept Is Called 'Negotiation'

Not knowing the details of a particular matter has never prevented Shank from throwing out a half-assed opinion about it:

You Mad, Bro?

Shank continues to leverage Twitter as a prime trolling application:

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Satire is Reflexive

Satire is reflexive.

As we have routinely called attention to The CHB's flip-flopping and used quotes from his own columns to mock him when events turned out differently than he predicted -- which is almost always -- The CHB is now borrowing from our technique to take aim at Red Sox management.

Unfortunately, just as John Henry and Co. believe(d) mightily in the team -- and at least said so, and to be honest, what else are they supposed to do? -- so too did The CHB.

So there's that.

What's weird is how he continually refers to the 2013 World Series championship as a "fluke." So if winning 95 games plus three playoff series is a fluke, then what were the crash of 2012, the World Series losses in 1967, 1975 and 1986, etc. -- anomalies?

Advice: Don't bother reading the column. Shank jumps back and forth so much among topics, you'll be convinced he didn't take his dementia meds before writing it.

Afterthought: What the hell is with Nick Cafardo? He writes for the umpteenth time that the Red Sox have to start their youth movement, then in the same column says none of the AAA players the Sox have are major league caliber. Note to Nick: Stop sharing a row with The CHB. It's rubbing off.

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Another Dumb Red Sox Tweet, By Dan Shaughnessy

Yeah, I'm just as shocked as the rest of you:

Eight days that included the All-Star break (four days) and Sunday's rainout at Anaheim, and throw in the fact that the Sox did score runs on July 12th and July 20th (he tweeted out this beauty before the Sox took the field for their Monday doubleheader), which then can be better described as 'no runs scored in the two games the Red Sox played since July 12.'

Other than that, his tweet was accurate...

Another Slow News Week - DHL Dan XLIV

We should rejoice, as at least he won't be commenting on the Tour de France!

We are 'treated' to an official Picked Up Pieces column, where the usual targets are aimed at - Red Sox, Patriots, David Ortiz, useless trivia, assorted miscellaneous musings, and a new one - Shank's no longer entertained by this year's installment of the Summer of Gronk.

One big problem with this column - I'm aware of cooked numbers when I see them:
If you take away the blessed outlier season of 2013, the Sox are 66 games under .500 since September 2011. Wonder what Bill James and the analytics folks are telling their boss about the hideous pitching staff and failed projections for the 2015 Red Sox? The Sox have to realize that last place has become the norm, not the exception.
Shank keeps feeling the need to bring up this completely misleading 'games under .500' statistic by removing a) the stretch between April 2011 and August 2011 and the entire 2013 season for one reason - to make this team look as bad as he possibly can. With the two links above, we can add the records from April to August 2011 (83 - 52, +31) and the 2013 season (97 - 65, +32) to get to a whopping three fucking games under .500 since the beginning of the 2011 season.

What other important fact is missing from Shank's column? Boston Red Sox - 2013 World Series Champions! That's not worth mentioning when your busy trashing the Old Towne Team.

As always, read this occasionally deceptive columnist with a huge grain of salt.

Possible new subhed for the site - Dan Shaughnessy Watch: It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it!

Thursday, July 16, 2015

Slow News Week - DHL Dan XLIII

When we're in the middle of summer and it's baseball's All-Star week, and Shank doesn't feel like writing about that particular game, he'll mail something in instead.
Used a Rolodex lately?

Didn’t think so. For the benefit of young folks, a Rolodex is a plastic wheel loaded with alphabetized cards that store phone numbers of people you may need to contact. Watch “Mad Men.’’ Don Draper’s secretary always flips through her Rolodex after Don asks her to reach a client.

I’m not a Rolodex guy, but I still travel with a black leather “At-A-Glance” address and telephone book that I pull out of my work bag every time I need to call Curt Schilling or Jonathan Kraft. It is at this moment that some wiseguy usually asks me if I’m about to dial Austin Powers or Marty McFly. We know that everybody now stores contact information in their phones. Almost everybody, that is.

I was clutching my beloved address book while sitting in the palatial offices of the Globe sports department recently when one of my bosses trumped me in a big way.

“Wait until you get a load of this,’’ he said, as he pivoted in his chair, reached to a shelf behind where he was sitting, and hoisted a metal cabinet drawer that was stocked with about 500 weathered index cards. “This is the old Globe sports directory,’’ he said. “One of the secretaries gave it to me when she retired and I’ve never been able to throw it away.’’