Ouch.

I'm still not 100% decided on a topic for my blog, so I'm going to flop around a little bit until I find something I enjoy writing about. When I need to think of things I would enjoy writing about, I need to think of things that I enjoy in general, and, from there, I start with sports. In this case, baseball and, specifically, the Red Sox season this year. It was and has been, in a word, painful. This applies both literally and emotionally, for many reasons.
This 2010 group of Sox has been absolutely decimated by injuries, almost to the point of being funny. They have had to deal with everything from fractured feet to mononucleosis. And these injuries aren't to random bench players. The Sox haven't played their opening day lineup since April 11, when Jacoby Ellsbury went down with broken ribs after colliding with Adrian Beltre, his own teammate. That was just the beginning. 3 of the 5 starting pitchers have been on the disabled list at some point this year as well as 1/2 of the infield, 2 catchers, 2/3 of the original outfield, and more non-everyday players.

The above is only the half of it. Along with all the injuries, this season has been painful emotionally. Going into the year, we didn't have very high hopes for the guys on Yawkey Way, as we were lead to believe that 2010 would be a "bridge year" to the future. Our entire offseason was based on the idea of "run prevention," we wanted good pitching and good defense, with an okay offense. The season started and we were a pretty good ball club. Contradicting the preseason rumblings, we scored as many runs as anyone, while getting by on iffy pitching and inconsistent defense. We stayed in the playoff races until the injuries came. One after the other after the other. We still managed to stick around even with the likes of Darnell Mcdonald and Ryan Kalish in our everyday outfield, guys no one had ever heard of. We were never going to play deep into October with those young guys starting daily, but what makes it worse is that we showed how good we could be. Without the injuries, the Sox could've made the playoffs and been much better. But hey, that's what life is sometimes. Painful.

R.P.S.

You probably use it as a way to settle something with a friend. A small game to see who gets the last chicken wing or who gets the ball first in a game of touch football. I am talking, of course, about rock paper scissors, or RPS, as experts call it. While you might use it as a decision-maker, there are tournaments to crown the best of the best. Yes, I'm serious, RPS even has it's own "official" website (USARPS League) and is sponsored by Amp, the energy drink. There is also an international site, separate from the USARPS one.

While, among most people, it is a random game of 90% luck, there are actually many strategies and combinations of rocks, paper, and scissors with unique names. These include "the Avalanche" (rock, rock, rock), "the Crescendo" (paper, scissors, rock) and "the Toolbox" (scissors, scissors, scissors). Along with strategies, there are, of course "experts" and top RPS strategists. There are even national and international tournaments where the best of the best gather to face off. For instance, Baconshark recently beat his teammate Zombie Llama in what worldrps.com calls "a battle of RPS titans," to win a tournament in Philadelphia and a $1000 check (no, really. I'm serious).

So, next time there is one more wing or you need to decide who gets the ball first in a game of football, RPS for it, with good "strategy," and you'll be sure to end up on the winning end.

Of course, if your opponent's choice is completely random, all that strategy goes out the window. Then what?