Boston, MA - I’m not sure if this is a sad day in Red Sox history (it isn’t) or if it’s cause for celebration (that’s more like it.) Over the summers, Red and I have gone back and forth making small wagers at the Sand Dollar in Dennisport, and it was always the same bet: “Will Tek ground into an inning-ending double play and immediately peel off from the first base line and sprint to the dugout to put his shit back on?” (Spoiler alert: Yes)
He called some good games, but anyone can put on an oversized glove and catch a ball thrown at it with precision. To be honest, I’m just grateful that he didn’t put Little Tek into my wife after the 2004 or 2007 seasons. I’m sure there was an occasion or two during those Championship years where a Sox fan went down on his wife or girlfriend to perform cunni and was overwhelmed by the unmistakable scent of Tek’s Wilson mitt. Not me. She’s not into jocks or guys who like to get freaky, and I heard a weird rumor that he shaves his pubes to look just like his goatee. With that being said, congratulations to Jason Varitek on his retirement. Always wear a condom Jason, and even if a chick promises to swallow, use one hand to trap her jaw closed and the other to pinch her nose just to be sure. You don’t want her spitting the leftovers of a million microscopic Tek’s onto her nightstand and then dilling herself with it after you split. DNA tests and the positive results that eventually breed paternity suits aren’t sophisticated enough to know if you just got a blajoejay or if you went for full mount and insert.
Have a good summer.