Pale Fire-Based Hypertext

[joeallonby]

on 7/27/03 11:05 PM, s~Z at keithsz at concentric.net wrote:

>>>> Unless there actually was a sox name Chapman we are led through Keats
> and Endymion to the Moon Goddess herself.<<<
> 
> On Sunday May 2, 1937 Ben Chapman played for the Red Sox and they beat the
> Yankees 5-4. Can't find a box score or description and account of the game.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
Ben Chapman played for two seasons with the Sox. Ironically, he spent most
of his career with the MFY's. At the risk of being Monroesque, here are his
career stats.

<http://boston.redsox.mlb.com/NASApp/mlb/bos/stats_historical/bos_individual
_stats_player.jsp?playerID=112205>

I'll try to dig up the actual game in question but....

When Keith posted the link to N hypertext the Red Sox had in fact beaten the
MFYs by a score of 5-4 the previous evening. "Must have been written last
night." At the time that I responded, they were losing to the Evil Empire by
a score of 2-0. Chapman's homer is as much ancient history as Homer himself,
and this evening it pales in comparison to the homers of Varitek and Damon.

 <http://boston.redsox.mlb.com/NASApp/mlb/bos/team/bos_player_bio.jsp?club_c
ontext=bos&playerid=123660>

 <http://boston.redsox.mlb.com/NASApp/mlb/bos/team/bos_player_bio.jsp?club_c
ontext=bos&playerid=113028>
 
I will defy Delillo and say that the greatest homer since the Greek Bard was
not Bobby Thompson's "Shot Heard Round the World" in Gotham glory, but that
of Carlton Fisk in an epic but ultimately tragic struggle.



 The Death Star is damaged and the Emperor wails in his mansion. All of his
ships cannot carry a cargo of victory to him. The ancient rebels are
victorious and proudly wear helmets embossed with the great red capital "B".


All along the great river 95, the populace murmurs the rumor. "The Empire
shall fall." We have bided our time since the betrayal of the dastardly
traitor Frazee. Cy Young wept, and Lefty Grove tore at his hair when the
apostate dismantled our great army, and our noblest warrior was sold down
the river to that Gomorrah the Bronx. It was all to finance cheap diversions
and circuses for the deluded citizens of that Metropolis. "No, No Nannette"
indeed.

The noble Spaniards have joined us. Shout their names.

Martinez!

Ramirez!

Ortiz!

We have the wily veteran of past conflict. His name is Burkett.

We have the stalwarts Nixon and Varitek.

The fleet Damon and Jackson have joined our cause.

The scars of the castoff warriors Millar, Mueller, and Walker ache for
victory.

The darts of Embree and Kim burn for targets.

The great Garciaparra shall lead us.

The blood of Williams cries out for revenge.

The soldiers of the Evil Empire are reeling. We shall dash their spirit with
our mighty bats of good American ash.

There is no poetry in the New York Yankees.

There is no soul in that concrete monolith on Route 87.