Look, maybe she said yes. Maybe she said no. Nobody really knows. But, shit, it didn’t look great for the fella. It didn’t. I’m just saying — if your boyfriend proposes to you on the Fenway Park Jumbotron in front of 38,000 people, can you at least TRY to look happy for five seconds rather than staring into space like you’re Smitty when his Bud Heavy keg goes dry down at the Top Hat?

This poor bastard’s down on one knee risking it all in public, and she looks like he just told her his mother is moving in with them. At least throw the guy a smile while the camera’s on you. Flash those pearly whites, babe. You can always pull him aside off camera and drop a, “Listen, you fuckin chud, this thing’s got no future,” once Sweet Caroline’s over.

Again, maybe she said yes. Maybe she was just shocked. But my dude looked like he was fighting for his life up there while Fenway turned into couples therapy night. Tough scene. Help the guy out, hun.

Frozen Fenway Pending Fiancee, make your way to the stage.

Here’s your Asshat.

Wear it proud.

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I walked into the Top Hat and slid onto my usual stool. Smitty was standing behind the bar staring into space like a guy who’d just gotten devastating news from a fortune cookie.

“What the hell is wrong with you, dipshit?” I asked.

Smitty slowly looked over at me and sighed.

“I caught my reflection in the beer cooler,” he said.

“Tough scene.”

“Brutal,” Smitty said. “I look like a guy who sells propane and owes three ex-wives money.”

“You always looked like that,” I said.

“Yeah, well now gravity’s gettin involved.”

“Everything hurts after sixty,” Smitty muttered.

“That’s dehydration,” Willie said from two stools down without even looking up from his beer. “Most men are bone dry by Thursday.”

Smitty immediately pointed at him.

“Willie-O, you’ve had six Coors Lights and a Slim Jim for dinner. Shut the fuck up.”

Willie nodded slowly like he’d just been proven right.

Smitty wiped down the bar for a minute before looking over at me.

“How’s the Dream Team doin?” he asked.

“7-0,” I said. “Girls are playin great.”

“That little leadoff hitter of yours still causin problems?”

“Actually, yeah,” I said. “But different problems now.”

Smitty leaned against the bar.

“How so?”

“For years Sophie was the little speedy kid everybody crashed the corners on because they knew she liked to bunt,” I said. “So I told her, this year, if they’re gonna disrespect you like that, start hittin balls by em.”

“There ya go,” Smitty said.

“And she has,” I said. “She’s already driven like six balls into the outfield this season.”

“That’s a good feeling.”

“It is,” I said quietly. We talked about it. We worked on it. I’m proud of her.”

Smitty nodded.

“And that’s the weird part, Smitty,” I said. “We’re 7-0. The girls are playing great. Sophie’s playing great. Everything SHOULD feel awesome. And it does. But after that Franklin game last week, talkin with their coach afterward, it just kinda hit me all at once.”

“What did?”

“That this thing’s almost over.”

Smitty got quiet for a second, which for him is basically a spiritual retreat.

“This is my last year doin this,” I said. “Eight years. Almost a decade.”

“That’s a long run.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And some of these girls I’ve had since first grade. That’s a long time. It’s just special to me.”

Smitty just listened.

“And honestly, what’s gonna hurt the most isn’t even the coaching itself,” I said. “It’s this chapter with Sophie ending.”

Smitty nodded slowly again.

“There’s somethin hard to explain about coaching your own kid that long,” I said. “You spend thousands of hours together chasin the same thing. Practices, big games, rides home, inside jokes, frustrating moments, all of it.”

“No kidding.”

“It just becomes a huge part of our life together.”

Smitty wiped down the bar quietly while I stared down at my beer.

“And now I’m watchin this little leadoff hitter who used to try to beat everybody with bunts start drivin balls into the outfield because she’s growing up right in front of me,” I said. “That realization hits a little harder than I expected.”

Smitty looked over at me.

“You know what your problem is?” he asked.

“What?”

“You already miss it and it ain’t even over yet.”

That one landed.

Because he was right.

Maybe that’s what happens when something’s been such a big part of your life for so long.

“I know bud, we have a little more work to do. Trust me, I’m aware! Love ya. Throw those brewskis on the tab for ya boy!”

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• This is what Crazy Coach Joey Mazzulla has to learn… Like I mentioned in my car rant over the weekend— this is NOT the regular season. All your Good Will Hunting math equations are cutesy and cool and work out fine during a long regular season against a different team every game. Defense isn’t exactly a priority for a lot of teams during the regular season. However, during the playoffs, it is. Teams dig in. And you need to counter with something. The whole “we play our way— come and beat us” theory, doesn’t always fly in the post-season. Adapt or die, Joe (I tried to use a quote there that I could hear Joey saying in a post game presser). “There’s no such thing as a foul, either you die or you don’t. Pressure doesn’t exist because we are all going to be dead soon. That said, sometimes I need to realize, I need to adapt or die.”— Coach Crazy Joe

• Speaking of the C’s, I still can’t get over the fact that they were down by two with like three minutes to go in Game 7 and took SEVEN three pointers and bricked all seven.

• Now, Kendrick Perkins will never be confused with a Mensa member, but with that being said— I LOVED his rant on Jaylen Brown. Gold. Watch HERE. (First 3 minutes or so of video)

• Jaylen Brown said on his Twitch channel that this was his favorite season ever. Keep in mind, he’s won a championship in Boston. Keep in mind his running mate, Jayson Tatum, was out for most of the year. Keep in mind, he and his team just blew a 3-1 series lead to Philly. This cat says some wild shit.

• This is usually the time of year when I tire of listening to Felger and Mazz on 98.5 if the Sox are going bad. When they are going bad these chuds just start making shit up and getting ridiculous. This week’s dose of high-end intelligence was, “why are these young guys like Roman Anthony getting hurt so much? Is it because they got their money already?” Yes, you nailed it Mike. Roman Anthony hurt his wrist swinging because he re-upped early with the team and signed a long term deal. Well done.

• Props to Tony Mazz for showing up to the Brad Stevens end of season presser yesterday and asking the question about the volume of three-point shots this team takes as well as decent follow up. Mazz doesn’t have to go to these pressers anymore. He could just sit on his perch at 98.5 and spew away. That’s his job. Was cool to see.

• I love watching Payton Tolle pitch.

• Stef Diggs is a dawg’s dawg, babe. Did you see the clip of him giving the chef the up and down treatment as she walked out of the courtroom in Dedham after she testified against him? He definitely misses that crazy lovin’. Stay away from her Stefon! Self control, my guy. (I have no doubt that they went to Tahiti’s in Dedham, split a pu-pu for two and hooked up Tuesday night)

• I am officially worn out on the Mike Vrabel/Diana Russini topic. Cold product. (Hold up- breaking tonight- Diana and Mike rented a boat in ‘21 when she was pregnant with her son MICHAEL. Holy shit, it never ends.)

• Can’t wait to watch the Patriots running game this season with Reggie Gilliam at fullback. Wait til you see this guy block. I’ve missed the fullback position being utilized and it’s definitely back in Foxboro this fall. Offense should be extremely versatile.

• Bruins had the Leaf’s first round pick as long as it fell to worse than top five in the lottery. I mean with the way things have been going in Boston sports lately, what did you think would happen? YUP, Leafs #1 pick!

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• What is it with this Tatum/Brown iteration of the Celtics? Why can’t they cut the throat of the opponent in a playoff series when they have them on the ropes? Nah, let’s let them hang around and make things interesting when we absolutely don’t have to do so. Maddening to me.

• Speaking of the Celtics and Game 5— when the game was getting tight in the fourth, Crazy Joe went back to the starters who basically stunk all night as a unit. Hauser and White were awful. Why wasn’t Pritchard used more?

• With the Sox playing such thrilling ball here in ‘26, forget about heading to Fenway and take a trip down to Maine and check out Sox top prospect, 20 year old shortstop, Franklin Arias. Kid is crushing. Arias is hitting .420, slugging .920 with a 1.412 OPS. Seven home runs in his first 15 games. And he doesn’t hit left-handed! Yay!!! Finally!!!

• Gronk, congrats on getting inducted into the Patriots HOF. Well deserved. Adam Vinatieri should be in before you, but as a loyal fan of CTC said yesterday on social media, it shouldn’t be an either/or situation on one ballot with those two names on it.

• While we are on the subject of Gronk— I heard an ex-Patriot talking about Gronk’s early years with the Patriots and how he would go out on the town with his boys and as they would be on their way home, Gronk would get dropped off at the stadium at like 3am and go into the locker room and hop up on a trainers table to sleep it off. The trainers would get in a couple/three hours later and find him there. Then they would roll up his sleeve and stick an IV in him so when he woke up he’d be fresh as a daisy and ready to hit the practice field. Legend.

• Welcome to the land of TMZ, Mike Vrabel. Being followed and harassed through airports as you buy the wife a hoodie etc. I mean, to a degree, you reap what you sow. As I’ve stated, I LOVE this guy as a coach, and I hope this all hasn’t become too much of a distraction. He belongs on the field coaching football.

• Now a report has come out that Diana Russini slept with Rams HC Sean McVay back when she was covering the Redskins in Washington back in 2015 and fellow ESPN reporter at the time, Britt McHenry, also slept with him and they had a drunken fight over Coach McVay. McVay was a coach with Washington at the time. Once a story like Vrabel/Russini hits, the TMZ’s of the world just run absolutely wild to dig up other shit. It’s incredible. Never-ending.

• Yesterday was the 40th anniversary of Roger Clemens’ record setting 20-strikeout game at Fenway against the Mariners. Few fun facts about that game. He was stuck in traffic with his wife driving and he decided to jump out of the car, chuck his cowboy boots in the trunk and throw on running shoes and run to the park. A cop happened to see him and instead split the seas for him and the wife to drive and get to Fenway. He showed up 30 minutes before the game. Got called into manager’s office and told he wasn’t starting. He demanded the ball and got his way. Rest is history. 20 K’s and NO walks. White House called his apartment when he got home and invited him to visit. That was also the night he was nicknamed “The Rocket”, by fellow starting pitcher, Bruce Hurst.

• If you haven’t checked out the Hulk Hogan documentary on Netflix— do so. It was three parts. Well done. Now people like his daughter Brooke and other wrestlers have come out to dispute parts of it and wonder why other things weren’t included, but it’s still a well done doc.

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• Happy Marathon Monday! Never forget 2013, when two cowards tried to break this city. They failed. Not because of luck — because of the people who were standing right there when it happened. The spectators who didn’t run away, they ran toward. The paramedics and doctors who’d been treating sore knees and blisters all morning and suddenly found themselves doing battlefield triage on Boylston Street. The cops who held the line and then the days that followed — an entire region locked down, thousands of law enforcement officers fanning out block by block through Watertown until they got their man. That’s Boston. Best to all the runners out there today!

• Superb Round 1 Game 1 victory by the Celts yesterday against Philly. As I said here last week, the Celtics are going to the NBA Finals.

• Speaking of the Celtics— Owner, Bill Chisholm, had this to say about Coach Crazy Joe on the pre-game… “I’m hearing stories that he voluntarily had himself tased over the summer.” Then followed with, “He entered an MMA tournament with his wife’s maiden name… and then he won.” I mean, need I say more? CCJ is a gem.

• In honor of Celts playoff season beginning, I give you one of my favorite quotes from Larry Joe Bird (maybe you’ve heard of him)… “I would never let a guy beat me because he was more motivated than me.”

• An absolute historic collapse by the Bruins last night in their Round 1 Game 1 contest last night in Buffalo. Up 2-0 with 8 minutes left in the game and proceed to let up FOUR fuckin goals to lose. They were in TOTAL control of that hockey game. The crowd in Buffalo was DEAD. Taken out of the game. And then BOOM. I will continue to say, Charlie McAvoy, is at his worst in big time situations in big time games. He’s a very good defenseman but something is lacking when games are on the line in big spots.

• Crazy hockey stat I saw this week— If you took all of Wayne Gretzky’s goals away— all of them, he would still be the all-time leading scorer in NHL history just with his assists alone. Incredible stat.

• Well, you can officially count me in with the people who are concerned about The Cyborg. What is happening with Garrett Crochet? With all that has gone wrong early for this team, this was the one thing you couldn’t afford to have happen.

• Sox owner John Henry has been around the ballpark a LOT more this year than he has in the recent past. He was seen interacting with fans on Landsdowne Street as well (those interactions must’ve been classic). Is something about to go down? Why is he showing himself a lot more? Usually that means something is brewing.

• How has Mike Vrabel not spoken to the media regarding the Diana Russini debacle? How? We are just churning ahead to the draft this Thursday like nothing happened? News this morning coming out that Patriots owner Robert Kraft tried to squash the story from breaking by putting pressure on the reporter and the newspaper. So Vrabes is just gonna come out and tell us about some edge rusher he drafts and act like he hasn’t been at the center of a huge media frenzy over the past couple of weeks? OK.

• Mission Carb Control Wraps are absolute bomb. Back up the truck and drop off a shitload at my residence. Chuck’s Two Cents has no shame. CTC Random Two Cents sponsored by Mission Foods. Reach out.

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• Every woman I’ve talked to about the Mike Vrabel/Diana Russini pics says that the picture with them interlocking fingers was clearly the worst of the bunch. I’m just gonna stick with, he randomly ran into her at a romantic resort two hours away from the league meetings he was attending and was running a pass-rush drill with her on the roof of a private bungalow.

• Speaking of Vrabel— I love the guy as a coach. Yes, as I’ve mentioned, he stole my coaching attire but I still love the way he goes about it all. That being said— him not attending this pre-draft press conference today is bullshit. Face the music. Tell them you aren’t taking questions on anything but the draft, but at least show up (you did it last year) and put yourself front and center. Unless ownership told you they don’t want you doing it, there is no excuse. And if they did tell you that, you should’ve demanded to be there. I’d expect nothing less from a guy who constantly preaches accountability from his players.

• Gee, Alex Cora, sure seems like Trevor Story enjoys hitting lower in the lineup. Yeah that two-hole nonsense never made any sense. He’s settling in nicely.

• Right now, this would be my top five in the lineup for the Sox. Duran—Contreras—Anthony—Story—Abreu. It’s utterly ridiculous that Duran was ever put into the third-hole but that being said, he’s pressing way too hard in that spot. Get him back to lead-off, have him continue to work on plate discipline and see how it goes. And yeah, I realize Anthony is scuffling a bit right now, but he’s still my three-hitter. Story obviously isn’t your prototypical clean-up hitter but he’s much better suited there than he is hitting second.

• I love the fire and leadership that Wilson Contreras brings to the Red Sox. That being said, the spikes high slide into Brewers and ex-Red Sox shortstop David Hamilton was pure bush league. Go in hard because you’re pissed off. Set a tone. Fine. Don’t go in spikes high on the guy.

• Keep an eye on Mickey Romero— the Sox first round pick from back in ‘22. At 22 years old he is now in Worcester playing some very good baseball. He can play any infield position. If my boy Caleb Durbin can’t get it going soon, you could see Romero sooner than later. That being said, any injury to an infielder would probably result in Romero getting the call.

• The Pats announced the 2026 Hall of Fame finalists. Adam Vinatieri, Logan Mankins, and Gronk. Who ya got?

• Looking forward to the Bruins and Celtics post-season runs. The expectations for the Celts being much higher but I think the Bruins could surprise and steal a round or two.

• Padres absolutely filthy and dominant closer, Mason Miller, has 19 strikeouts this season. The guy has only thrown 20 total balls! And throws 101 mph. 7.1 innings pitched, 1 hit, 19 strikeouts and 1 walk.

• I’m going into my eighth year of coaching girls Softball in town/rec league. That said, my daughter had her first club softball tournament (I don’t coach club) of the spring this weekend and it never ceases to amaze me the level of chud I get to witness, who coach some of these teams. I watched this dumpy looking bastard coaching first for another team yell to a kid who made an out (as they were walking off the field), “LOOK, ENOUGH, we’re gonna watch the tape on that this weekend! You keep doing the same damn thing wrong!” Listen you fat ass, how bout you let the kid be a kid. She’s like 13. Maybe adjust your approach you fuckin charmer you. I’m sure you were a lot of fun at parties, charming all the ladies back in the day, right big boy? Some unfinished sports dreams? Get a life.

• Rory McIlroy becomes on the fourth golfer to win the Masters in back to back years. He joins Jack Nicklaus, Nick Faldo, and Tiger Woods.

• Some housekeeping: I start a new job this coming Thursday and between getting acclimated there as well as with coaching kicking into full gear, I’m going to be doing an Asshat of the Month from now on. So on the last Friday of each month some magnificent chud will receive the award. I need some time freed up. I will still be posting on Mondays and Thursdays every week.

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Meet Alexis Martínez-Arizala, 22, of Lake Worth, Florida. A man with a vision. A content creator. A guy who looked at artificial intelligence — the most powerful technology on the planet — and said, “yeah, I’m gonna use this to fuck with cops and put it on the internet.”

Here was the master plan — cook up AI videos of fake crimes happening to police vehicles, walk up to cops in person, show them the video, then film their panicked reaction and post it online for clout. That’s it. That’s the business model. A prank channel. Comprende?

So my boy Alexis strolls into an Academy Sports in Lake Mary, Florida, finds a sheriff’s deputy just trying to shop in peace, and shows him a three second AI video of people breaking into his patrol car. The deputy — hand flying straight to his holster — sprints outside. Nothing touched. Nothing stolen. Nobody there. Because this dipshit made the whole damn thing up on his phone.

And then posted the whole thing online. Mission accomplished. Content achieved.

Except investigators weren’t laughing. They tracked him down, issued a warrant, and Alexis fled to Puerto Rico. Where he tried the EXACT SAME SHIT on another cop at a fast food restaurant. Got arrested there too. Same bit. Same result.

He wanted to go viral. Instead, he’s just this week’s Asshat. That’ll have to do.

Alexis, make your way to the stage.

Here’s your Asshat.

Wear it proud.

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I walked into the Top Hat and slid onto the same stool. Smitty was glaring at the jukebox like it had just insulted his mother.

Without even looking over he slid a cold Coors Light down the bar.

“How’s Aunt Mary doing these days?” he asked.

“Well, thanks for asking bud, she’s… ya know. She still lights up when we walk in, every time. Five minutes after we leave, she doesn’t even remember we were there. Fuckin dementia is no joke, my guy. It’s awful. She keeps complaining about the coffee. I told her my mother and father are gonna buy her a brand new Keurig. She was thrilled.”

Smitty chuckled. “That’s nice of ‘em.”

“Yeah, well… I told my parents they’re fucked if she actually remembers I said that tomorrow.”

Smitty let out that low laugh of his and shook his head.

“Jesus Christ. What an amazing asshole you are. You lied to her?”

I shrugged. “It’s how us Hanfs cope, Smitty. Better than crying in the parking lot. There’s enough feeling bad to go around regarding Mary, believe that. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever known. It’s not easy but you have to have a joke here and there.”

He wiped the bar and leaned on it, studying me for a second.

“So what else, Chuckie? What’s been happenin?”

“Yesterday was the 7th anniversary of Slats passing. Can’t believe it’s been seven years. You two old fucks always got along!”

“Well, first off, he was closest to me in terms of age, yes, out of you young bucks at the time! Second off, what a great guy he was. He always asked how the other person was doing, and cared. Never worried much about himself.”

“Yeah, that was him.” I said.

“Must be close to softball season now, no?”

“Yeah, I’m back at it. Bucs season!”

Smitty nodded slowly, then gave me that half-smirk.

“So we’ve talked a bunch about softball and the girls, and I can clearly picture you as a coach, but I’m trying to figure out your coaching style. Where have you pulled from in terms of all that over the past eight years? You must be a real dick to deal with…”

I smiled as I leaned back on the stool.

“I think most of it is just who I am naturally. I try to be as authentic as I can be with them. But I’ve taken pieces from every coach I ever had. My father… he knew the game well, but what I really took from him was how he treated people. He could connect with just about every kid on the team. Made them feel seen. Made em laugh. That’s something I try to do now.”

Smitty nodded slowly.

“My JV coach at Latin Academy was the fundamentals guy. Rep after rep after rep. Drill it until it’s automatic. I still do that with the kids— it’s a huge part of the way I coach.”

I took another sip.

“Varsity coach kept you on your toes. Never let you get comfortable. There was always someone coming for your spot. That one stuck with me too — I use that very little as I believe in it in small doses but for the most part, I want them playing loose.”

Smitty smirked. “Sounds like he was a prick.”

“He had his moments,” I laughed. “Then there was George “Boomer” Scott. Former Red Sox star. Had him in junior college. He was brutal on fundamentals. Wouldn’t let practice end until everything was done exactly right. But the one thing that stuck out to me about him is one day after practice I was walking with him to the parking lot and he said to me, ‘look, you work your ass off, but I need to make sure you’re having fun, kid.’ "

I paused, smiling at the memory.

“I told him he had no idea how much fun I was having. I loved playing for him. Not a lot of people know this but I hated myself for a long time because I couldn’t stay healthy for him. I knew what I was capable of on a baseball field. And I knew he believed in me. For the first time in my life my body let me down. I hated it so much. Baseball was everything to me. I was intense on the field — I showed emotion, pumped my fist, blurt something out when something good happened — but I never chatted up the other team or goofed off out there. I fuckin hated the kids on the other teams. I played hard. Boomer taught me it’s okay to smile a little and take a breath. To dial it down a notch per se. I wish we had more time together. He promised me a lot of things and I couldn’t hold up my end.”

“Don’t do that to yourself. You can’t control everything, Chuck. Shit. Give yourself a break. Back to coaching…so that’s the coach you are now? Intense but fun?”

“I try to be,” I said, clinking my glass against his. “I try to connect with them in general. I joke with them, tease them a bit. They need to know you give a shit, ya know? I get in drills with them. Try to teach them that we’re in it together. I love it.”

Smitty grinned.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, I know we are most comfortable shitting on each other, but I’m really proud of you. I have to get down to a game this year to see this. I have to admit, you light up when you talk about coaching. Maybe I’ll wait til the playoffs so I can potentially catch the last game you ever coach. You will be an emotional puddle of a man!”, he said.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that ol’ man. Me? Emotional? Never. How long have you known me? I gotta run. Throw those on the tab, babe.”

“The ever-growing Chuckie tab! Til next time, kid.”

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• As much as I love being from Boston and as much as I love how Boston sports fans are passionate and for the most part very knowledgeable, there are times I want to strangle some of them. For instance— Opening Day at Fenway and newcomer, Caleb Durbin is introduced and is promptly boo’d due to his hitless first two series on the road. The kid is replacing Alex Bregman. He’s pressing. Slumping bad. He was traded to Boston. Let’s boo the shit out of him in his first home game. Awful. Let’s cut the shit. You want to be a hardo keyboard warrior and go on Twitter and bash GM Craig Bres-Bot? Go ahead. Knock yourselves out you tools. That said, time to get it going Durbie! Breakout series against your former Brewers team this week? I’m rooting for you kid.

• So, to make the Rafael Devers debacle of a trade even worse— James Tibbs is homering like EVERY time he steps to the fuckin plate in AAA for the Dodgers (has seven homers in his first eight games). Tibbs was acquired from San Francisco in the Devers deal and then sent packing a couple months later by the Sox to the Dodgers when we scooped up the immortal Dustin May last summer. Tibbs and LHP Kyle Harrison were the big pieces in the Devers trade. Both are gone now. That’s some fine work by the Bres-Bot.

• I absolutely loathe Sox reliever Greg Weissert (nothing personal, I’m sure he’s a nice enough guy). The Team Italy WBC superstar who doubles as a German. He comes into the game yesterday with a lead and gets two impressive strikeouts with two men on base and up steps Manny Machado of the Padres. Direct quote to my nephew and brother-in-law by yours truly: “This would be prime Weissert right here— gets two big strikeouts and lets up a three-run bomb to Machado”…. and BOOM. Three run homer, Sox down. I’m still not sure how Machado hit that pitch out as it was about a foot inside, so not the worst pitch by the Italian German, but who cares. He hit it. And he hit the shit out of it.

• I’ve already ranted on how much I hate the lineup construction on this Red Sox team. Roman Anthony is not a lead off hitter. Trevor Story strikes out FAR too much to be a two-hole hitter and Jarren Duran is not even close to a third hitter. What am I missing here? Who’s fault is this? Do the front office nerds make the lineup or does Alex Cora? Brutal. Put the damn team in the best position to win ballgames.

• Sox starting pitching prospect, Jake Bennett, acquired from Washington in the Luis Perales deal— gave up one unearned run in five innings yesterday, letting up only two hits and striking out five. Bennett throws six different pitches and is 25 years old. He and fellow lefty, Payton Tolle, are waiting in the wings. The Sox have some serious depth on the starting pitching front.

• Masters week incoming: This year, for the first time since 1994, neither Phil Mickelson nor Tiger Woods are in the field.

• Looking for the best wieners to throw on the grill this year? Mashed released its top 100% beef grocery wieners this week. Numero uno? Hebrew National Bun Length Beef Franks. Runner up was Nathan’s Famous Restaurant Style Beef Franks. Wiener season coming in hot, babe.

• I’m ready to say it— The Boston Celtics are going to the NBA Finals.

• Was great to get out there with my Bucs girls on Saturday morning for our first practice of the season. In my eighth and final year of coaching girls softball it will surely be an emotional season and it was great to get started. Loved ending it with my traditional game of “knock-out” where I ask them who is going to finish second to me. I make myself look good for a couple of rounds then I purposely make an error and bow out. Yeah that’s the story and I’m sticking to it.

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Let’s set the scene. It’s a Sunday afternoon in Stoneham, Massachusetts. People are out running errands, grabbing craft supplies, minding their business. Normal stuff.

And then there’s Andrey Pavlov, 44, of Watertown — who apparently woke up that morning, looked in the mirror, and thought to himself “you know what the fine people of Main Street need to see today?” We’ll just say the answer wasn’t his personality. Or his face.

Not only did this guy expose himself to a female employee at Michaels — he did it at TWO separate businesses on Main Street. Same day. Back to back. Like he had a whole itinerary planned. A tour, really. Trouser trout on full display.

But here’s where it gets good. The Michaels employee wasn’t having any of it. She didn’t freeze. She screamed at this chud and chased him right out of the store. A woman working the craft aisle on a Sunday afternoon took one look at what Andrey was presenting and decided she’d seen bigger — and better things — in the clearance bin.

Detectives tracked him down, Watertown PD picked him up, and Andrey shuffled into Woburn District Court and pleaded not guilty.

Andrey, make your way to the stage.

Here’s your Asshat.

Wear it proud.

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If you’ve been following Chuck’s Two Cents, you already know Smitty. If you’re new here — you’re about to.

The reaction to this series has been something I didn’t expect. People connect with Smitty in a way that’s been genuinely humbling. Barstool conversations about life, sports, Boston, getting older, and the people who shaped us. It’s the most fun I have as a writer — and clearly it resonates.

Start from Part 1, read them in order. Here’s the full series from the beginning.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

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• C.B. Bucknor had a rough day at the office on Saturday. Six balls and strikes calls overturned by the new ABS challenge system. Most egregious had to be when he rung up Eugenio Suarez of the Reds TWICE and both strike three calls were challenged by Suarez and overturned. C.B.’s been at it since 1999. Might be time to move on to his local Little League rec league. All kidding aside-- umps are going to be exposed big time by this ABS system. As a fan, I like what it adds to the game. As an ump, it’s tough sledding.

• For everyone who was concerned about Garrett Crochet’s spring training stats--- yeah. I’d say “The Cyborg” (don’t any of you sneaky mainstream media people who read this steal that) quelled your concerns Thursday in the opener. Look, if you’re not fighting for a roster spot on the big club in spring training, your stats mean next to nothing. When will people understand this. Someone like Crochet is working on secondary pitches and throwing them in counts and situations where he’d never attempt to in a real game. Much ado about nothing.

• Love the new Marcelo Mayer “dwerk” when he gets on base. Ladies in the North End just melting. Marcelo keeps showing out like this, he and the North End Strega Circuit will have an unforgettable summer of ‘26!

• Foxboro residents were saying that soccer fans who were stuck in traffic on the way to Gillette to go catch that Brazil/France “friendly” match were pissing in their yards. Wait til the real thing! This was a one-off exhibition! Yeah, the World Cup should go super smooth in these parts. No doubt.

• I don’t want to really joke about a guy who was under the influence and flipped his car over in Jupiter, Florida. And I won’t. I mean, in my younger day I had a decent buzz on and hit one of those disguised speed bumps in Brookline and went full out Dukes of Hazard airborne on a random Friday night. But man, Tiger, just hire a driver my man. You are an incredibly wealthy human being. Make the adjustment.

• Up for quote of the week: Memphis football coach, Charles Huff on his no music rule--- “When the Navy Seals get ready to go on a mission, they’re not listening to Lil Baby. When they training to go to war, the ain’t listening to NBA YoungBoy!” Tell em Chuckie.

• Kudos to Dodgers closer, Edwin Diaz, who entered the game to Timmy Trumpet’s, Narco, the other night. Yeah, so what Chuck. Big deal. Nobody gives a shit. To that I say, pay attention, chuds. Dude had a LIVE trumpet player absolutely crushing it as he jogged to the mound. There’s aura and then there’s AURA.

• Yellowstone writer, Taylor Sheridan, has a new show on Paramount+ starring Michelle Pfeiffer and Kurt Russell called The Madison. The wife and I are 3 episodes in. It’s fantastic. You’re welcome for all these shows I give you on here. It’s my pleasure.

• Speaking of Sheridan---as someone who has a ton of respect for writers--- I sit and wonder how he does this. The guy never stops. Writes good show after good show after good show. Yellowstone/ Landman/ Tulsa King/ Mayor of Kingstown. Now The Madison. Impressive.

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Let’s paint this picture real slow so you can fully appreciate the top notch craftsmanship here. You’re standing in front of a judge. You have one job. ONE. Post $250 bail and walk out of that courtroom a free man. That’s it. That’s the whole assignment.

This absolute rocket scientist from South Carolina looks down at his wallet, pulls out counterfeit hundreds — with Chinese writing on them — hands them to a judge, and then tells him to KEEP THE CHANGE. Keep. The. Change. Like he’s tipping a caddy at Augusta.

Now I’m no legal scholar, but I’m pretty sure the courtroom is maybe the last place on earth you want to commit a brand new crime. A bank? Risky. A convenience store? Dumb. But standing three feet from the person who literally decides your fate and handing him Monopoly money with subtitles? That’s not just an Asshat move — that’s an art form. That’s a masterpiece of stupidity so fuckin pure it almost deserves a trophy.

Well, let me help with that.

South Carolina Counterfeit Chud, make your way to the stage.

Here’s your Asshat.

Wear it proud.

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