4/25/25: The Red Sox Pitcher's Meeting
Working our sources to bring you exclusive behind the scenes information.
Happy Friday, fellow Light Bat-ians. As a reward for enduring yet another week of drudgery and toil I got you a special gift:
The Mariners have overcome a miserable 3-7 start, won five series in a row, and sit in a tie for first place in the AL West. While I feel that many of the things currently driving their success are temporal, they feel neither more nor less fraudulent than the Rangers or Astros. Pre-season projections called for a microscopically close race in the division, and thus far here we are. We have so, so long to go but at this point anything feels possible.
The division is bad. The entire American League is bad. The Seattle Mariners are not necessarily good. But they aren’t bad. Is that enough to win the division? It just might be. Is that enough to justify enduring their whole deal? That’s a personal choice! Anyhoo, let’s Friday.
Behind the Scenes of Red Sox Pitcher Meetings (Light Bat EXCLUSIVE)
SCENE: Fenway’s antiquated, cramped locker room. The Red Sox pitchers have gathered to go over their plans for the upcoming series against the Mariners. WALKER BUEHLER sits in the corner researching duck blinds on his phone.
GARRETT CROCHET opens the proceedings.
CROCHET: “Ok guys. Glad we could all make it. This should be a quick one today. We just have to go over how to pitch to literally the Seattle Mariners.”
/light guffawing. BUEHLER does not look up from his phone
“So let’s get at it. Who’s first?”
DYLAN MOORE
“Phew he’s been hot. Disciplined hitter, makes you throw strikes, and has pop. Lots of swing and miss though, especially if you spin it. Stay on the corners and don’t throw it straight.
Next!”
JULIO RODRIGUEZ
“Slider away, fastball on the hands. If he doesn’t swing, let him take a walk. He’s doing that more but still wants to swing. Easy to get out if you execute, terrifying if you miss.”
JORGE POLANCO
“Learn to throw with your left hand. Next!”
CAL RALEIGH
/Buehler - who until this point has been vaguely staring upward holding an imaginary shotgun - looks up
BUEHLER: “Man pitching to Cal SUCKS! I swear that dude hits foul balls on purpose just to be a jerk. Also he’ll lull you to sleep doing that for 4-5 pitches in a row and you’ll try to waste one and he’ll go down and swat it into the seats! I hate it like I hate gas-efficient vehicles! Throw him bendy stuff and hope he misses I guess.”
RANDY AROZARENA
“He’s in Kill Mode right now. Won’t chase a thing and is ripping the ball. Key is getting ahead but it’s got to be on the corner because he’s not missing stuff over the plate. He’ll expand if you get ahead in the count but it’s a fine line. He’ll probably have cooled off by the time we get to Seattle. God, I love pitching in that park.”
LUKE RALEY
“Learn to throw with your left hand. Next!”
ROWDY TELLEZ
“I dunno man, maybe don’t get behind 3-1 and have to chuck a fastball over the plate? Just keep him in the yard.”
DONOVAN SOLANO
“Lol. Lmao.”
BEN WILLIAMSON
/lights of the locker room flicker
BRANDON BELLO: “Did……what……is that sound?”
SEAN NEWCOMB: “What sound?”
BELLO: “It was………like…..singing but also…..snarling. It felt…….like it….it sounded hungry…..like it had been looking for something and it found me……it seemed…..happy”
CROCHET: “Brandon, dude, chill man. What are we gonna do with this Williamson guy? Minor league report says basically no power at all, average hit tool. Worst he can do is probably slap a single somewhere. Sound right?
GARRETT WHITLOCK: “Yeah so probably walk him I guess? Just to be safe?
CROCHET: “Absolutely. Walk him and get the next guy.”
LEO RIVAS
/A loud crash in the next room, the lights flicker on and off in rapid succession. TANNER HOUCK screams off frame. The lights go completely out for approximately three seconds. When the emergency lighting kicks on the pale glow reveals a ghoulish nightmare, face nearly all scar tissue, hair matted and dripping with viscous, translucent fluid.
It smiles menacingly, not six inches from LIAM HENRDICKS’ face
HENDRICKS: “CRIKEY ON A CRACKER!”
/Lights turn back off. HOUCK screams again. Normal light come back on. HENDRICKS is standing, holding a large machete. BUEHLER is now holding a very real shotgun. It’s unclear where it came from
GREG WEISSERT: “What in the HELL is going on?! What’s wrong with Tanner?!”
/TANNER HOUCK is in the corner, arms wrapped around his legs as he rocks back and forth on the floor. A baleful, wheezing moan the only sound escaping his lips
CROCHET: “He’s fine! He’s just stretching! Look you guys I don’t know what’s going on either, but we need to get through this. We’re almost done with the lineup and then we can get out of here. What’s the deal with Rivas?”
ZACK KELLY: “Like…..he’s one of the least powerful hitters I’ve ever faced. No real bat-to-ball skills. If you let him reach base it probably means you should just quit pitching. I really cannot express how thoroughly punchless and non-threatening this guy is at the plate. It’s kind of cute, really.”
CROCHET: “Ok. So……….walk him then?”
KELLY: “Yep you said it man. Don’t need to take any risks.”
CROCHET: “Great. Last one and then we’re out of here.”
J.P. CRAWFORD
/O FORTUNA begins blaring at ear-splitting volume! Gloves, bats, and BUEHLER’s iPhone begin flying around the locker room.
The lights flicker on and off rapidly and unceasingly. TANNER HOUCK crouches on all fours, the whites of his eyes turned solid, cobalt gray.
He is on the ceiling.
He opens his mouth, jaw dislocating in an oddly and disgustingly serpentine manner, as a ragged sound scrapes from his throat; the bellows of some devilish, damaged bagpipe:
“.......HHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWWWWHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSKLSKSGFI”
CROCHET: “OH MY GOD TANNER WHAT IS GOING ON!?!?”
“HWWWWWWWWWWWALLLLLLLLLLKKKKKKKKKHIIIIIIMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMSSSSHSHHHHHFKFKFKF”
CROCHET: “I think it….he….is saying we have to walk J.P. Crawford!!!”
NEWCOMB:
/shouting over the still-blaring Carl Orff
“LIKE HELL I WILL!. J.P. CRAWFORD HASN’T HOMERED SINCE LAST JULY! WHAT’S HE GONNA DO, STAND AT ME!?”
HOUCK: /various clicks and chitters
“WHALKHIMWALKHIMWALKHIMWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLKKKKKKKKKKKHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPLOTRISHHHHHHHHH”
CROCHET: “SEAN JUST DO WHAT HE SAYS! YOU HAVE TO WALK J..P. CRAWFORD! IT’S THE ONLY WAY!!!”
/background shotgun blast, O FORTUNA volume increases, lockers begin rattling off the wall, LIAM HENDRICKS screams in ecstatic joy
NEWCOMB: “I’M NOT GONNA DO IT! I’M GONNA THROW HIM A FASTBALL AND DARE HIM TO HIT IT!! I’M NOT GIVING IN TO THIS……ABOMINATION!”
/clicking and chittering intensifies
CROCHET: “YOU’RE GONNA KILL US ALL, SEAN! WORSE YET WE’RE GONNA LOSE THE BASEBALL GAME! TO LITERALLY THE SEATTLE MARINERS!!!”
NEWCOMB: /sets jaw
“If that’s what it takes, that’s what it takes. I don’t take orders from anyone or anything, not even demonic forces that may or may not be inhabiting a good friend and teammate, granting him unholy powers from the beyond. I’m going to throw J.P. Crawford strikes, because it’s the right thing to do.”
/sets jaw, stares into Crochet’s eyes
“It’s the right. Thing. To do.”
/they embrace
CROCHET: “THAT’S THE MEETING GUYS LET’S GET OUT OF HERE!!!!!”
BUEHLER:
/trying to break away from his teammates who are desperately fleeing the locker room
“Wait! I didn’t complete my duck blind purchase!!”
/click, chitter
***
Thanks again for another week of reading and supporting The Light Bat. We’ll be back next week to see if the Mariners can capture the momentum of the road, or if LollaBlueza 11.0 crashes us back to reality. Also, a fun podcast guest. You all are the best, enjoy the weekend!
I would have listened to the ghouls, I can tell you that much.