Good music. Ample booze on tap. The chance to see Peter Gammons and Theo Epstein sling an axe and local music gods like Kay Hanley, Bill Janovitz and Stacy Jones get down to bi'ness. Also, a fantastic cause. And the possibility of a Bud-fueled Jonathan Papelbon tearing through some of your favorite rock standards.

Seriously, does anyone need another reason to try to grab some tickets to Saturday's Hot Stove Cool Music at the 'dise?

Me neither.

In just under an hour, the BBC will be announcing the actor who will be playing the next incarnation of Doctor Who, succeeding the great David Tennant.

For nerds such as myself, this is akin to white smoke pouring from the Vatican.



Of course, I've already cast my vote of preference.

So far, 2009 has been a blur of Excedrin, Red Bull, bagels and a few glimmering bits of awesome as my memory slowly returns. But even in this subpar state, it seemed appropriate that the first video posting of the new year should be the final out of Jon Lester's 2008 no hitter, to remind us that nothing's impossible and that sometimes--sometimes--nice guys finish first.



I still can't make it past the Terry Francona hug without getting all misty-eyed. Neither should you.

I hope everyone had a happy and safe New Year's Eve. As Red mentioned, we've got some pretty cool plans for 2009. Stick around for our 6th year of blogging.

One of the coolest Christmas gifts I received this year--besides the Wii, Guitar Hero World Tour and pair of Heidi Watney's pants filched borrowed through some connections my cousin has with her laundry service--was the DVD set of every episode of Monty Python's Flying Circus. You seriously can't go wrong with this stuff, and the best thing about absorbing it all in one or two sittings is being reminded of the more obscure sketches that are every bit as funny as the world-renown bits like the dead parrot and the lumberjack song. Here's just one example:



The way Eric Idle walks through the window into John Cleese's office is easily the best "entrance" since Idle and Graham Chapman were lowered on cables into the Spam sketch.

Anyway, this is likely the last Surviving Grady post of 2008, unless Denton comes out of his gin- and strippers-induced stupor to throw up anything besides his last cheeseburger. Or the Sox make a pre-holiday move for Jarrod Saltalamacchia. Or Manny finds a job. So I wanted to take a moment to once again give a laurel and hearty thank you to our readers across the world, our glorious and impossibly sexy commenters, the 2008 Boston Red Sox and, as always, the holy trinity of Watney, Remy and Orsillo.

Denton and I have some pretty cool stuff planned for 2009 (even cooler than this, if you can imagine.) We hope you'll join us. You can also get your daily dose of SG on our Facebook page.

And remember, if you must drink to excess this New Year's Eve, be safe. Let the hooker drive.

Congratulations to Jon and Ashley Papelbon on the birth of their daughter. Parker Alice Papelbon entered Red Sox Nation yesterday at 8 pounds, 4 ounces.

*tip of the cap to Alexis for the yearbook pic

...Hanley Ramirez, that is. The Red Sox made a play to re-acquire Marlins superstar Hanley Ramirez after losing out to the rival Yankees for star free agent Mark Teixeira, league sources tell SI.com. But while the Marlins listened to Boston's overtures, Florida isn't anxious to trade its best player, and talks apparently have been aborted after no agreement could be reached.

The Marlins were said to be most interested in a center fielder, and discussions apparently centered on Boston's promising youngster Jacoby Ellsbury, talented pitching prospect Clay Buchholz and others in a package for Ramirez, who began in Boston's organization.

Since Boston is said to be happy with Jed Lowrie at shortstop, it's possible the Red Sox might have considered using Ramirez in center field. A Bay-Ramirez-Drew outfield? As much as I loves me some Ellsbury, I'd have offered to personally push him down to Florida in a shopping cart to make this deal happen. And it would have been pretty interesting had they pulled it off. But at the very least it's further evidence that The Brad Penny Initiative wasn't the only thing Theo's got up his sleeve. After the high profile drama of L'Affaire de Teixeira, it's nice to see some wheeling and dealing at the lower frequencies--even when it doesn't work out.

Via ProJo.

As you know, we usually spend our time around here talking about the Red Sox, bashing the Yankees, or just shooting the baseball shit in general. Occaisionally...OK...frequently, we mix in a Star Wars post, a Kiss tribute, a Jennifer Love-Hewitt picture, or some other random pop-culture distraction. As far as other sports, we usually leave them alone. Especially football, Red's not too keen on the game played with the oddly-shaped ball, and quite frankly, all the talk of "tight ends" and "wide receivers" in reference to a bunch of big guys running around in tight pants make him a little nervous. But until something more newsworthy than a Josh Bard signing pops up, let's talk some pigskin.

Bill Belichick has brought three Superbowl championships to New England, along with a shit-storm of controversy, hours of meaningless interviews where he talks a lot while saying nothing, and a very hot girlfriend. This year, perhaps his finest season of coaching, leaves him and the Pats left out of the playoffs despite an 11-5 record. Throughout his tenure, several of Belichick's disciples have gone on to head coaching careers of their own, most rather unsuccessfully.

Eric Mangini - Fired by the New York Jets today after missing the playoffs at the hands of the Miami Dolphins and former Jet QB Chad Pennington. "Mangenius" was 23-26 in his three seasons with the Jets.

Romeo Crennel - Also fired today, the Browns canned him with three years left on a contract extension he signed in January. Crennel was 24-40 in his four years as Browns' head coach.

Charlie Weiss - After a 5-2 start in his first year at Notre Dame, Weiss inked a 10-year deal worth somewhere before 30 and 40 million. He finished his first season 9-2, and followed that up with a 10-2 record in 2006. But his last two seasons have been disasters; 3-9 in 2007 and 6-6 this year.

Whatever Belichick's secret to winning is, he's not sharing it with his assistant coaches and coordinators. But his girlfriend is pretty hot.

While I was expecting D-Lowe to come walking through that door, the Sox up and signed Brad Penny as a back-of-the-rotation fortifier. Yes, the same Brad Penny who spent most of 2008 on the disabled list, but also the dude who won 16 games in 2007. At $5 mil for the season, Penny's a low-risk investment that could--could--pay greater dividends down the road than A.J. Burnett. And let us not forget that the guy has also seen both Watertown's own Eliza Dushku and Alyssa Milano sans pants, making him something of a deity in my book before he's even pitched a game for us.

I'd also like to take this opportunity to remind Eliza and Alyssa that Fenway Park is a lovely place to take in a ballgame, and if stalking ex-boyfriends is your thing, there are plenty of cool blogger's apartments hotels in the area that would be more than willing to accommodate you.

Also, those of us longing for a return to the Josh Bard era have reason to rejoice.

Meanwhile, if this update on J.D. Drew's son doesn't get you all misty-eyed, then check yourself for a pulse. I know all too well what Drew went through in 2007, and I wish nothing but positive vibes and happiness to him and his family.

Rookie of the Year, MVP...and salsa connoisseur? I thought Big Papi was the salsa spokesman for the team? I guess if Manny and Wake can pimp wine, anything is fair game. Is there a hidden joke that it's "medium?"

From the rubble of game seven of the 2003 ALCS, there rose a phoenix. And that phoenix was... the potential signing of A-Rod. It was all we talked about that winter. Every twist, every turn, every time John Henry excused himself from his favorite corner table at Chilis to use the can, we got the updates. It was gonna happen. Any minute. The local media stationed reporters in pup tents up and down Yawkey Way. Peter Gammons was on 24/7 alert, prepared to make the call from his secret moonbase. It was everything we needed to wash away the misery of that f@#king Aaron Boone homerun, and that feeling of being kicked square in the pills, clutching a "Cowboy Up" placard to your chest like a goddam life preserver. Manny + Papi + Schilling + Nomar + A-Rod? Who the f@#k could stop us?

But it didn't happen. Those dipshits from the Bronx got us again, stealing away with the prize and positioning us for further torment. And for all their bluster and bravado and cash handouts and secret handshakes and winking nods to the cute waitress at the back of the club they got... nothing. We delivered a beatdown of epic proportions and picked up a cool World Series trophy. The same one ol' Steinbrenner put on layaway before the season even started.

So now here we are again. Just like 2003, we're still smarting from an ALCS game seven loss (albeit the type of "smarting" that is easily remedied by a few viewings of Bring It On: All Or Nothing). Just like that fateful off-season, the Yanks have stuck it to us again, taking a free-agent we had designs on, and becoming the clear-cut favorite to win the AL East.

So, by my calculations, that means we're gonna win the World Series. Write that down.

Seriously, though, there's good news for us here. With their Legion of Superheroes line-up, every Yankees loss becomes magnified ten-fold. Every time we knock C.C. or A.J. to an early shower, it's like we're stealing money out of the Steinbrenner coffers. Each Teixeira strike-out at Fenway becomes a religious experience--a $350,000 home run that didn't happen.

Theo has something up his sleeve. There's a catcher, I assume (and I pray), in his sights. And at least one deal that will remind us that the guy didn't win two World Series in four years by sleeping at the wheel. Of this, I am absolutely convinced.

So I dive into 2009 a happy man. Ready and hoping to watch another alleged championship team in the Bronx come crashing down like that big-ass Lawgiver statue in Beneath the Planet of the Apes.

I love Christmas, but when it's over, it's over. There are a couple of radio stations in Boston that have been playing Christmas music since November 1st. For those of you keeping score at home, that's the day after Halloween. One night you're trick-or-treating, the next day you're decking the halls? Enough.

Starting today, I don't care about magic snowmen or a bunch of anti-red-nose, prejudiced reindeer. I don't care about boughs of holly or roasting chestnuts or what kind of shenanigans mommy and Santa are up to. I'm tired of wondering if "they" know it's Christmas or if the little kid gets the shoes home before his mom kicks.

The house looks like a war zone and the bank accounts are over-drawn. And watching the Celts get jobbed in LA last night was enough to make a Scrooge out of anyone. Time to start counting down the days until pitchers and catchers report. If we had a catcher, that is.

The usual stuff: World peace. Health and happiness for my loved ones. For C.C. Sabathia and Mark Teixeira to be kidnapped by robot Nazis. And to find myself locked in the trunk of a '74 Buick with Freema Agyeman.

The very best holiday wishes to our readers. Barring hangover or death by "The Christmas Shoes," we'll be back tomorrow.

If you were one of the ones that wanted to crack open the piggy bank and empty it into Mark Teixeira's lap, you probably didn't have a good day yesterday. It's like seeing that great parking spot at the mall on the Saturday before Christmas, blinker on, and some cock-knocker in a Lexus SVU swerves out of nowhere right into your spot. It's like Lucy holding the football for Charlie Brown, only to snatch it away at the last minute, leaving Chuck ass-over-handlebars once again. It must suck.

But if you're like me, and you saw an 8-year deal as a poster child for bad decisions, rejoice. Because it's the Yankees that will be carting Teixeira onto the field in 2014, 2015 and 2016 writing checks for 23 million bucks, and wishing they hadn't added that no-trade clause into the deal. 26 rings indeed.

Meanwhile, back at the Fens, we've got Mike Lowell, Josh Beckett and Big Papi healing up for 2009. We've got Pedroia, Papelbon, Delcarmen and Youk. We've got Bowden and Lars Anderson waiting in the wings. And as Red mentioned, we've got a new enemy in pinstripes. It's good to be a Sox fan.

The happiest guy in the world right now has gotta be A-Rod. Finally, there's someone who'll be booed more mercilessly than him at Fenway Park.

This is beginning to rival the Epic Brett Favre Retirement Party and Farewell Tour as the most annoying sports non-story to make headlines on a daily basis.

Breaking news: an announcement is coming soon! Yawn.

Personally, I'm rooting for the Nats to score him. I don't like the thought of an 8-year deal to anyone, much less a mercenary like Teixeira. Wherever he lands, it will be his 4th team in just his 7th big-league season, not to mention the non-signing with the Red Sox back in the 1998 draft. I don't know how he's done it, but Teixeira has avoided any and all criticism for doing exactly what guys like A-Rod, Pedro and Clemens have done: pimping themselves out to the highest bidder.

I want to see the 2009 Red Sox with a healthy Mike Lowell at third and Youk at first where he plays error-free, hits like a fool and gives young and old alike nightmares about his beard.

Come on, Nats, you need Tex more than the Sox, make it happen.

Jealousy: Watching the press conference, seeing Manny playing grabass with Jeets and A-Rod, reading the quotes about how he's so happy to be playing in New York and "it's just so relaxed here, man"... it would push me dangerously close to nun-punching extremes.

Resentment: Even as he played whack-a-mole with Jack McCormack's noggin, even as the stories bubbled up about him shutting down on his teammates, I still couldn't get my hate on for Manny. I do, however, suspect that would change once he donned the pinstripes.

Despondency: You know it'll be coming... the inevitable Manny walk-off during a Sox-Yankees mash-up. And I can already envision myself, curled up in the fetal position in a pool of stale Coors, scrawling "do not resuscitate" on my ass with a Sharpie.

Rapture: Being in New York means Manny's just one June swoon away from a Post and Daily News savaging. I can almost see the "Ramiwreck" headlines now...

Indifference: The somber realization, sometime after August, that I was actually more upset when Mark Bellhorn signed with New York.

But as Cashman tells us, we probably won't have to worry about it anyway.

I love Christmas music like it took a bullet for me in the war. But the glut of stations pushing non-stop Andy Williams from Halloween to New Year's Day has washed away some of the magic. Look, I dig "Happy X-Mas (War Is Over)" as much as the next guy, but at this point in the season, the very sound of John Lennon's voice warbling through the song's opening line pushes me dangerously close to driving through the guardrails on route 128.

So this year, rather than regurgitate some of my favorite Christmas tunes from lists past--the tunes you've likely heard a bazillion times in the past week alone--I wanted to throw out five songs that might not get the heavy rotation of a Dean, Frank or Dominic the Donkey, yet are definitely deserving of a place among them.

"Valley Winter Song" by Fountains of Wayne. You know that blissful feeling of stringing lights, writing out cards, getting looped on hot cocoa and staring through the window as the snow slowly buries your car, trees and the mailman? This song will take you there.

"Mistletoe" by Colbie Caillat. I first heard this song when it appeared in the background of a scene in, of all places, Baby Mama. I tracked it down and literally haven't stopped listening to it since. It's a bummer of a tune, all about and end-of-year break-up, but wrapped in Callait's soulful voice it reminds us that things always get better.

"Christmastime is Here Again" by Ringo Starr. This song is basically the title, repeated over and over and over and over. There may be a few other words here and there, but not many. But the thing is, in the avalanche of McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime" and the aforementioned Lennon track, everyone's other favorite Beatle gets no love. I'm doing my part to reverse the trend by keeping this track in heavy rotation.

"Frosty the Snowman" by Leon Redbone and Dr. John. It disturbs me that they hand out Nobel prizes to folks who split atoms and clone sheep, yet the geniuses who decided to combine the awesomeness of Redbone and John are resigned to anonymity.

"Merry X-Mas (I Don't Want to Fight Tonight)" by the Ramones. I've said it before, I'll say it again. Christmas without the Ramones? What the f@#k are you thinking?

If you dig baseball cards, then you owe it to yourself to check out this epic post from our pals at the Baseball Card Blog. It's "Casey at the Bat" in convenient baseball card form. And it's bloody fabulous.

Here's a preview:

Now get your ass over there.