First take on a tart named Tessie

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Tessie and Wally. (Boston Red Sox photo)

My resolution for 2016 was to adopt a positive approach to life, which included—but was not limited to—the way I think and write about the Red Sox. I started by commending the organization for having the wherewithal to bring in Dave Dombrowski from Detroit then complimented Dombrowski for signing David Price and Craig Kimbrel, upgrading the front and back of the pitching staff. I gave the team their due accolades for finally retiring Wade Boggs’ number.

Positivity, I had it in spades.

Then the Red Sox went ahead and introduced Tessie, Wally the Green Monster’s whore sister, and it all went to Hell.

Now, before pegging me as a psychopath who kicks puppies and steals from babies, let me explain my aversion to the Pink Hat pageantry that surrounds the Red Sox “family-friendly” public relations. From the singing of “Sweet Caroline” to the cutesy NESN creations, like the listing the player’s favorite movies, foods and brands of toilet paper when they’re about to bat—God forbid they list actual statistics relevant to the game—I can’t stand any of it.

Nothing, however, puts a hair across my ass like the Pink Hats who go to Fenway for “the experience,” taking selfies in the grandstands, squealing when Ortiz and Pedroia are announced and remain otherwise oblivious to the fact that there’s a baseball game being played. You know them, The Pink Hats who participate in The Wave in a 3-2 game in the bottom of the seventh inning; The Pink Hats who sing that crap-ass Neil Diamond song and then make haste to the exits before the first out in the bottom of the eighth.

I hate Pink Hats.

And nothing exemplifies the Pink Hat culture quite as much as that asshole Wally the Green Monster. When Wally was first introduced in 1997—before the Pink Hats arrived on the scene—fans rightfully rejected the idea. But somehow, maybe it was those vicariously embarrassing videos Don Orsillo made with Wally for NESN, Wally has been embraced by a subsection of the fan base.

Then The Wally Wave was introduced. Nevermind the fact that the Red Sox have been mainstays in the AL East’s cellar for three of the last four seasons, The Pink Hats found it appropriate to dance like a bunch of numb-nuts in their Monster Seats as the team languished.

But one green asshole puppet wasn’t enough so the PR people are bringing in his sister. First, let’s examine the plausibility of this narrative. Where the hell did she come from? Who is buying this story? My best guess is that Manny Ramirez was not urinating inside the Green Monster and this is his illegitimate child with the wall. If Tessie starts cutting off Jackie Bradley Jr.’s throws in left-center, we might have a match.

So positivity went the way of the VCR for me, and I’m back to being cynical and cantankerous—merely two weeks into 2016. At the very least, the Red Sox ownership can throw us a bone and bring down the price of their 12-ounce cups of watery Bud Light drafts. If we’re going to have to endure this strumpet puppet, we’re going to need beer and plenty of it.