history made in st louis

i have tried to post on more than one occasion a few thoughts on the red sox history making performance in the last fortnight. to be down to 3 outs in game 4 of the alcs against mariano rivera and effectively raise two fingers to the curse of the bambino and 86 years of yankee dominance, is saying something about the character of those self proclaimed idiots. pure baseball,errors and all. couple this with fact not only do they take the yankees to school in grand old father effin fashion, they beat on the cardinals even more so. pujols and edmonds a combine 1 for 30, or was it rolen. sure makes beltre or bonds look good as the mvp in my mind. if the cardinals didn/t look like deer in the headlights(much like 80% of the yankee roster in game 7 of the alcs), they certainly didn/t look like a contending championship caliber ball club. honestly, manny ramirez throwing anyone out at the plate. kudos to those bean town dominicanos and the other 22 guys on the sox, they played ball the way it is supposed to be played-guts, determination, pitching, timely hitting, team work, and a $135 million plus payroll-the baseball equivalent of detroit v l.a. the only solace i get out of the whole bronx debacle is imagining a brand spanking new cardinal uniform emblazoned with the names 'brown' or 'vazquez' emblazoned across the back. hell, make it a trifecta, there may just be a 'loaiza' in there, too, free of charge, courtesy of the city that never sleeps for keeping us juiced on bud for all these years.

the death of peel

it was with a sense of sadness that i learned of the death of the great john peel. for many, the single greatest source of new muziek whilst growing up across the north atlantic. or in the case of this former septic ex pat, peel came on the radio about 18 minutes after i finished my short order cook shift at the dog and vomit or some such east london boite, if i concentrated , i was able to draw a bath and some smokeable matter in my dalston hovel and listen in on the first strains of pavement, bikini kill,mudhoney, et al crossing the atlantic for the first time(and of course the howls and scowls of a certain mark e smith perpetually permeating peels program)making me slightly home sick for american girls, Interstate 10, fish tacos, and real drinks. how ironic that 15 years later, the passing of peel leaves me wistful for bulgarian red, constant rain, the scala cinema, pg tips, broken windows, and free rent.
from a warm apartment in kings county with the sounds of peel sessions past blaring through too old speakers, in an age where downloadable mp3's and satellite radio have nearly made the maverick radio personalities of our past obsolete,peel managed to remain relevant and revered.