Thursday, June 16, 2005

A nice ring to it

In case you hadn't heard, the Dropkick Murphys have a most excellent new album, The Warrior's Code, coming out on Hellcat next Tuesday. Sox Blog didn't have room in this piece about the record in this week's beautifully redesigned Phoenix -- run, don't walk, to pick up your copy now! -- but I'd like to help Dropkicks' singer/bassist Ken Casey make his case to Red Sox brass. Simply put, the band deserve a ring for their now-classic team fight song, "Tessie." So herewith, an outtake from this week's issue...

Ken Casey wants his World Series ring, and he wants it now

It must be weird for the Dropkick Murphys to watch the Red Sox every night and hear their own music. "Tessie" is still played after "Dirty Water" every time the good guys win. And with every Trot Nixon plate appearance. And during every other NESN commercial. "Yeah, it is weird," says Casey. "Every time I look at my finger." Referring to a spurious promise I made the last time I wrote about the band that I'd publicize his Gollum-like lust for a certain coveted piece of jewelry, he asks, "whatever happened to that ring?"

After all, if it's too much to claim that "Tessie" alone was a catalyst for the team's first World Series victory in 86 years, it's undeniable that the song has become indelibly associated with the 2004 squad. (It even made its debut at that infamous July 24 Tek/A-Rod brawl game.) Isn't that worth something? Like a World Series Ring?

"Hopefully 'Tessie' will be cemented as the song from that year," Casey says. "That's all we can ask for. We don't want it to be the song for every year. But it would be good if, in 20 years, people hear it and say, 'That's the song from when they won the World Series.'"

Almost a year after its debut, "Tessie" is still ubiquitous -- even in the batter's box. "Trot Nixon got rid of it as his at-bat song for a while, and he went into the gutter," says Casey. "Then he brought it back and he started hitting again. Coincidence?"

The band especially like playing it in the heart of the Evil Empire. "We definitely play it every night in New York. And drop the video screen with the highlights," Casey says with relish. "Try singing that while ducking beer bottles. The New Yorkers are all like, 'I walked out of the show when you played that! I can't believe you played it!' But if we didn't play it, people would be like 'Aw, you pussies are afraid to play it in our town.' You don't wait 86 years and not rub it in. (There have been acts of retribution, however. Somewhere on the Internet there's a photo of Casey being held in a full-nelson by New York fans, having a Yankees hat foisted on his head.)

"Tessie" has been a boon for the band. They've gotten to play in Fenway Park, have met most of the players, and hosted the World Series Trophy at their recording studio. Still, something is still missing. "People are always asking me whether I got my ring," Casey says glumly. "And I always have to say no."

He's not being greedy. There are seven guys in the band, after all. He only wants one ring. To share. With every Red Sox employee, even clubhouse attendants, getting their bling, is that too much to ask?

I suggest that Casey just approach Red Sox executive VP Charles Steinberg, the guy who'd asked the band to record "Tessie" in the first place, and ask him nicely.

"You shouldn't ask for a ring," he says. "I've dropped a lot of hints ... but that's like a girl asking a guy to marry her."

So drummer Matt Kelly does his pleading for him. "Please!" he screams. "Shut the guy up and just send him a ring!"

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