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| Cowboy Up! Quotes, Etc |
| I dont pronounce my R's. I call a water fountain a bubbla, a milkshake a frappe, and a liquor store a packie. I know how to pahk the cah in Hahvad Yahd. I root for a team that hasnt won a World Series since 1918. I say Larry Bird IS the greatest basketball player. Ted Williams IS the greatest hitter. To me anything West of Rte. 128 is the boonies, and the Cape is a little piece of Heaven down here on Earth. I also know that 128 and 95 are basically the same thing, and that you can drive south on 31, north on 12 and east on 2A at the same time. T he best thing on summer nights is Fenway Franks off the grill. I know how to pronounce Worcester, Billerica, Woburn, and Barre. I learned about the Curse in gradeschool. I know that the Mass Pike is some kind of weather dividing line. I can swim in 63 degree ocean water. I don't go to Cape Cod, I go down the Cape, and Ptown is a town, not a new rap group. I pay a huge excise tax on my cars. I know the names of the six firefighters. (Brotherton, Lyons, McGuirk, Jackson, Spencer, Lucy...and I didn't look that up!) I can take the T. I know Wachusett isn't a real mountain. I know about the piano at the bottom of the pond. I yell YANKEES SUCK when the Red Sox are playing the Tigers. I am from Massachusetts and I am proud of it. |
| 'Twas the night to beat the Yankees and all through the nation Not a single sole was thinkin of 85 years damnation. 'Cause this is the year to end our bad luck, And even if it weren't the YANKEES STILL SUCK. On Damon, on Nixon, onManny, and Nomah On V-tek, on Walker, on Ortiz, and Millah! Carry this team and end this damned curse Don't blow this series, or you'll leave town in a hearse. To the true fans of Boston, Get a beer and a cup And say it together: "Cowboy Up!" |
| Nixon At The Bat The outlook could be better for the Beantown nine that day, The score stood tied at one, with extra innings to play. And then when Manny died at first, and Damon did the same, A disapointed silence fell upon the patrons of the game. A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest clung to that hope which springs eternal in the heart. They thought, "if only Nixon could but get a whack at that. We'd put up even money now, with Nixon at the bat." But Nomar preceded Nixon, as did also Todd Walker; and the former was a heartthrob, while the latter was a talker. So upon that stricken multitude, grim melancholy sat; for there seemed but little chance of Nixon getting to the bat. But Nomar let drive a single, to the wonderment of all. And Todd, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball. And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred, there was Nomar safe at second and Todd a-hugging third. Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a joyous glee; "Cowboy Up!" they shouted, as it rattled in the "T"; It pounded through the Common and recoiled in Fanuel Hall; for Nixon, mighty Nixon, was advancing after all. There was ease in Trot's manner as he stepped into his place, There was pride in Trot's bearing and a smile lit Trot's face. And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat, no stranger in the crowd could doubt t'was Nixon at the bat. Ten thousand eyes were on him as he quickly said a prayer. Five thousand tongues applauded when he glanced to God up there. Then, while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip, defiance flashed in Nixon's eye, a sneer curled Nixon's lip. And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, and Nixon stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there. Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped -- "That ain't my style," said Trot. "Strike one!" the umpire said. From the benches, black with people, there went up an engraged roar, like the beating of the storm waves on a stern and distant shore. "Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand, And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Trot raised his hand. With a smile of Christian charity, great Nixon said a prayer, he stilled the rising tumult, he bade the game go from there. He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew, but Trot still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two!" "You suck!" cried the maddened thousands, as they booed and hissed But one scornful look from the umpire and Red Sox Nation was pissed. They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, and they knew that Nixon wouldn't let that ball go by again. The sneer has fled from Nixon's lip, the teeth are clenched in hate. He pounds, with cruel violence, his bat upon the plate. And now as Lilly holds the ball, and now he lets it go, and now the air is shattered by the force of Nixon's blow. Here in Red Sox Nation the sun is shining bright. Bands are playing on the Common, a top the Monster hearts are light. Here at Fenway men are laughing, and children have much fun, There will be riots in Beantown tonight -- Boston's Boys have won |