Chad Finn's Touching All The Bases

Looking for me?

2008-06-12T15:23:00.000-04:00

I'm over here.

You find out who your friends are

2008-04-18T21:03:00.014-04:00

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free throwaway lines for you . . .

1. Wonder if Pistons fans are aware that Kevin Garnett's good buddy Chauncey Billups advised him, when KG was uncertain if Boston was the right fit, that accepting a deal here would be a wise career move, in part because it would be "easier to win." You have to give Billups credit for being a loyal friend, though should the Celtics bounce the Pistons from the postseason, I wouldn't blame Detroit fans for questioning his loyalty to them.

2. Sure, I admit it. I've hopped aboard the Bruins' playoff bandwagon much in the same way noted college hoops aficionado Bill Simmons suddenly thinks he's some sage combination of Jay Bilas and Pat Forde every March. So take my opinion on this with a whole shaker of salt, but from my mildly informed perspective, it seems like Claude Julien has handled his team brilliantly in this series. Consider: After a gruesome Game 1, he decides his team's only chance of making this a series is to emphasize smart aggression and discipline, so he sits talented softie Phil Kessel. That strategy works for the most part and the Bruins scrap to make it a series, yet they struggle to put the puck in the net, so Julien brings back a clearly motivated Kessel for Game 5. Not only does Kessel (who looks like a young Gary Busey) score a goal, but he tries to do all the little things that he usually avoids. Pretty astute coaching and knowledge of your personnel, I'd say.

3. One more Bruins item: Got a kick out of watching the Montreal "faithful" stream out of Le Ribbit Centre Thursday night after the Bruins took a two-goal lead with about 10 minutes remaining. Who knew those little towels they like to wave were actually white flags? In that sense, the Canadiens fans reminded me quite a bit of Yankees fans, except with a much better command of English.

4. Just can't imagine the Falcons will spend that No. 3 overall pick on BC quarterback Matt Ryan. They've already had Joey Harrington once.

5. Manny's turning Mike Mussina into his personal batting-practice pitcher while crushing the ball like he's 28 again. Papi's hitting like he's possessed by the ghost of Calvin Pickering (until last night, thank goodness). And strangely enough, both developments have left me with the same thought: Man, we've been so lucky to watch these two phenomenal hitters do their thing all these years. Savor it while it lasts, because, damn, is it ever going to be a bummer when it ends.

6. Having seen him quite a few times for the Sea Dogs last season, I can say with confidence that defensively, Jed Lowrie will never be an everyday major league shortstop. His range is Jeterian, and his arm isn't all that accurate. But the kid's going to be a good hitter for a middle infielder - it wouldn't shock me if he duplicated Mark Loretta's career - and it is barely an exaggeration to say he's helped the Sox more in his first week here than shortstop incumbent Julio Lugo has in a year-plus.

7. Though you, me, Todd McShay, and especially Mel Kiper have no idea what they are going to do, the hunch here is that the Patriots will spend the No. 7 pick on one of the recent graduates of Jacked And Pumped University - linebacker Keith Rivers or defensive lineman Sedrick Ellis. I just can't see them taking a cornerback in that spot. (And with that said, watch, they'll take a cornerback in that spot.)

8. Of all the wonderful developments with the Celtics this season, one of the most satisfying is the emergence of Leon Powe as a tough, reliable, and remarkably efficient force off the bench. My only question is this: What took so long, Doc? I never understood why Powe couldn't get significant minutes on last season's flame-engulfed zeppelin of a basketball team.

9. I don't think I laughed more than once or twice during the first 20 minutes of "The Office" Thursday, and I have to admit, I caught myself wondering whether this uneven fourth season is a sign that the show has lost its way, that it would never be as hilarious and heartwarming as it was in its outstanding second and third seasons. But damned if the writers didn't redeem themselves entirely in the final 10 minutes. Not only was the Jim/Pam twist brilliant in that it restored the pleasant tension that has been missing since they got together, but it was also nice to see Kevin step out of his usual role as a caricature. Consider my faith restored that this show will find greatness again by season's end.

10. As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

This is easily my favorite Onion item since . . . well, since the last column by Jim Anchower, probably. The strange thing is, Williams actually looked like he was encased in cement his last few seasons in center field.

* * *

Just a quick note to let you know I'll be loading all the Random Baseball Cards and other silly trinkets into the U-Haul and heading over to Boston.com for good this Tuesday. Yep, the move is officially official, officially. I'll post a link here that will point you toward TATB's new home, and of course I hope all of you will check out the new neighborhood. - CF

TATB Live: Sox-Yankees

2008-04-13T19:44:00.044-04:00

Yup, I'm here. Joining me are the Baseball Prospectus, the Baseball America Prospect handbook, the Bill James handbook, a matching pair of Shipyard IPAs, and my already bored wife, who between sighs mentions she would much rather be watching something called "The Memory Keeper's Daughter" on, I'm assuming, Lifetime. Fortunately, I have removed the batteries from the remote. I predict she'll catch on to my scam sometime around the fifth inning. (Oh, okay, she's actually being sweet enough to DVR the ridiculous thing. The best marriages are based on compromise, my children. Sincerely, Dr. Phil.)

Anyway, baseball. The big news of the night so far: No Papi. Tito Francona wisely gave his frustrated, .070-hitting designated hitter a much-needed night off, and that tells you all you need to know about the value of Sox-Yankees games in April. I have a feeling both Papi and Derek Jeter (who has not played in this series due to a dislocated girdle . . . er, strained quad) would be in the lineup tonight if this were August.

One other pregame observation: As a reader pointed out in the comments on the last post, this is huge one for Dice-K, at least as far as April ballgames go. He's had two terrific starts in a row, aggressively challenging hitters and pitching with what seems to be increased confidence - Gammons just mentioned that he looks "comfortable in his second act," an articulate way of putting it - but we all know this Yankees' lineup is traditionally relentless and disciplined. And Matsuzaka certainly had his troubles with them last year, posting a 6.12 ERA in four starts while walking 13 batters in 25 innings. Is he up for the task? I'm hopeful considering how he pitched in his last start against Detroit, but we'll know for sure in about three hours. Maybe four. Hell, with these teams, probably six.

All right, the game's underway, and I'm already falling behind here. Hopefully we won't say the same thing about Dice-K too often tonight.

FIRST INNING
Two walks (Damon, Abreu) in the first three batters. Not what we had in mind there, Mr. Matsuzaka. Didn't you read the intro? Fortunately, A-Rod is already in his mid-autumn form, and obligingly rolls Dice-K's first pitch to Kevin Youkilis, who starts the 5-4-3 double play. It's amazing how A-Rod can justifiably be considered the best player in the game, and yet fans of the Yankees' opponent don't mind seeing him at the plate in big situations. I mean, he hit 54 homers last year. More than a few of them must have been meaningful, right?

Jon Miller tells us that Yankees starter Phil Hughes (who I am convinced will be a legitimate No. 1 starter, someone who will still be winning in the majors when Joba Chamberlain has a scar on his elbow and Chris Farley's midsection) grew up a Red Sox fan. I knew there was a reason I kind of like the kid.

Jacoby Ellsbury works a walk, bolts for second, and zips over to third when Jose Molina's throw sails wide into center field. There's no doubt he's an absolutely electric athlete who makes things happen on the bases. I'm just not convinced - yet - that he's a disciplined enough hitter to make it to first base with any consistency. I'll admit it: I still think Coco Crisp is a better option in center field for this season. I imagine all of my Pink Hatted readers will cancel their subscriptions now.

Hughes whiffs Dustin Pedroia on a 3-2 count, then walks J.D. Drew, batting in the No. 3 spot while Papi takes his mental health break. Hughes is doing what we worried Dice-K would, struggling with his command and racking up a high pitch count in the early going. For all of Hughes's talent, it's easy to forget he's only 21, three years younger than Clay Buchholz.

Heeeere's Manny with runners at the corners. Care to walk him now, Girardi? (Sorry. Couldn't resist.)

Nope. And Manny makes the Yankees pay yet again, roping one over Robinson Cano's head to score Ellbury, and it's 1-0, Sox. Jon Miller tells us that's Manny's 154th career RBI against the Yankees. Someone needs to get that statistic to that washed-out clown Mike Adams immediately.

Make that 2-0, thanks to a Youkilis sacrifice fly. Just another little thing he does well. He had five sac flies last year and 11 in '06.

Sean Casey rockets a ground-rule double into the rightfield seats (Miller calls it an "automatic double"), and I'm officially convinced that Casey (a.k.a. The Nicest Guy In Baseball!) is not the second coming of J.T. Snow. He's been absolutely terrific filling in since Mike Lowell got hurt.

Hughes crosses up Molina, the baseball ends up at the backstop, and Manny saunters home for a 3-0 Sox lead. Miller reminds us that Hughes is the youngest Yankee pitcher to start a game at Fenway since this guy:

Hughes finally escapes the inning, but not after throwing 39 pitches. According to my abacus, he's on pace for a 351-pitch, complete-game, 27-0 loss. Hope it happens for him.

SECOND INNING
Dice-K walks Hideki Matsui to lead off the inning. Exactly what you're supposed to do with a 3-0 lead. Geez.

After falling behind 3-1 to Jorge Posada, Dice-K battles back and gets him to foul out to Jason Varitek. Encouraging. By the way, Posada is DHing again tonight because of a "dead" throwing arm. As far as I'm concerned, the thing could be severed, and he'd still scare the hell out of me with runners on base.

My apologies for the sarcasm after the Matsui walk; it's an easy, breezy inning for Dice-K, who gets Giambi to pop to Ellsbury in left, the retires the next batter on a fielder's choice.

Crisp leads off by dropping a bunt down the third base line. A-Rod, who is distracted while applying his rouge, recovers to field the ball, but Crisp beats his throw by the edge of a cleat. To be honest, I thought he was out.

One out later, and Crisp on third, Ellsbury hits a little popup to shallow left. Temporary Yankees shortstop Alberto Gonzalez races back and makes a running catch. Jeter immediately bursts into tears. "But that's my signature play!," wails the captain. Just wait 'til Gonzalez breaks out the fist pump. There will be blood.

Joe Morgan, who isn't annoying me as much as usual tonight, probably because I'm distracted by this thing, says that Ellsbury has trouble with the inside fastball. The cold truth hits me hard: Oh, my God. I agree with Joe Morgan. Please, don't let Ken Tremendous know about this.

THIRD INNING
After retiring Gonzalez on a smooth defensive play by Julio Lugo, Dice-K walks Damon for the second time tonight. That's his fourth walk in 2.3 innings. Miller notes he's not pitching to contact. Sigh.

After Damon swipes second, Dice-K battles back from yet another 3-1 count to get the dangerous Robinson Cano to popup. The radar gun readings on his fastball tonight aren't great - 90, 91, 92 - but Cano was late on three straight heaters. The point here is twofold: 1) Dice-K seems to have better late movement on his fastball this season than he did at any point a year ago. 2) He needs to throw the damn thing earlier in the count rather than messing around with the soft stuff all the time.

Well, the Yankees get one back, thanks to an Abreu wall scraper that plates Damon, making it 3-1, Sox. Fortunately, A-Rod is next, and he graciously pops to Casey in foul ground to stall the threat.

By the way, I can't tell if Casey is a good defensive first baseman or not. I know he used to be, but he's had some awkward moments with the glove so far.

Gammons pops in with a rehash of the teams' offseason flirtation with Johan Santana. I always thought he'd end up in the Bronx, so I considered it a Sox victory when he was swapped to the other New York ballclub instead. And for the record, I'm still not convinced he's the pitcher he was two years ago; he gave up a home run to Gabe Kapler yesterday, for heaven's sake.

Drew leads off the Sox half with a walk. Someone mentioned in the comments on the last post that he's my "whipping boy." Not true. Lugo's my whipping boy. Drew's my scourge. Get it straight. Actually, to be completely honest, I've really enjoyed watching Drew hit this season - he makes it look so easy when he's locked in, something we didn't get to see last season right up until he dug in for his fateful at-bat against Fausto Carmona. I believe he's capable of a big year, and that he has the talent to justify the contract the Red Sox gave him. I still don't get what they ever saw in Lugo, however, and that's the difference.

Just saw a couple of Sox fans wearing t-shirts that said, "L.M.B. Yankees." I'm not sure if I should be proud or not when I say I broke the code in about .00094 seconds.

Manny singles, Youkilis singles to score Drew, and Mighty Casey singles to score Manny as Damon's "throw" trickles without purpose through the infield. (C'mon, I know I'm not the only one who snickered.) It's 5-1, Sox, and Hughes's night is done. For the record, 19-year-old Jose Rijo's first start at Fenway didn't go much better, and he turned out to be an outstanding pitcher.

Ross Ohlendorf in for Hughes. This kid has a good arm, but after he retires Crisp on a grounder Giambi (whose range has improved since he got the giant hypodermic needle surgically removed from his $*$), he bounced one past Molina as Youkilis cruises home. Make it 6-1, and I'm beginning to think this game will end about this time tomorrow night.

RBI single for Ellsbury. 7-1, Sox. Hughes's final line: 2 innings, 6 hits, 7 runs, 6 earned, 3 walks, 3 Ks. His ERA this season: A nice, even 9.00. Gruesome. Still think he's better long-term than Joba the Midge Whisperer, though.

Morgan seems annoyed that Papi isn't in the lineup. You know this never would have happened on the World Champion 1975 Cincinnati Reds. "Let me tell you, Jon, Tony Perez never missed an inning, even after he lost an arm to gangrene and was stricken with polio! Did I mention we won the World Series that year? They called us the Big Red Machine, Jon. I was the MVP . . . "

FOURTH INNING
Crisp misjudges a fly ball by Matsui. I haven't seen him do that since '06, when his GPS was occasionally faulty. I still don't understand how he improved by so much defensively in just one season. I imagine it must be credited to his work ethic or his improved familiarity with Fenway.

Dice-K doesn't seem particularly interested in making this easy. Sure, Crisp cost him one out, but a walk to Giambi and a Molina RBI double make it 7-2, and Gonzalez follows with a nine-pitch at-bat that culminates with an RBI single to center. It's 7-3 and on the verge of being a ballgame again, and Dice-K is back to nibbling against mediocre hitters. Maddening.

Gonzalez has played well in this serious - that was a classic Jeter at-bat he just put together - but the kid is not, as Morgan suggests, a very good hitter. Nor will he be a star, as Morgan says Jason Giambi predicted. Here is Baseball Prospectus's take on him:

His glove will inspire someone to give him a shot at some point. His bat is off of the Rey Sanchez shelf - better than Tony Pena Jr.'s, but that's all.

I'm willing to bet a Tony Pena Sr. rookie card (book value: 75 cents) that BP is a better predictor of Gonzalez's future than noted superscout Giambi is.

Dice-K gets out of it, but not before allowing another run on a Damon sac fly, scoring Molina, who makes it home safely despite running like he's carrying his brothers on his back. It's 7-4, good guys, and it should not be this close.

Drew just shook his head in disagreement after being called out on strikes. That might be the most infuriated I've ever seen him. Look out, water cooler! (Seriously, for the most part I prefer that approach to the faux rage that the previous No. 7 for the Sox would exhibit whenever the man was keeping him down.)

Just when I was about to praise the relentlessness of the Sox offense, Varitek kills a bases-loaded, no-out situation with a dinky 4-6-3 double play. But man, does he ever hustle back to the dugout to put his gear on! (Sorry. The booze makes me extra snarky.)

FIFTH INNING
Dice-K gets Abreu looking. I'm a believer in making the pitchers work and the value of a high OBP, but sometimes Abreu looks like he's not particularly interested in swinging. There's a point where patience becomes passivity.

Morgan thinks they'll leave Dice-K in for five innings so he can get the win. That's the first truly ridiculous thing I've heard him say tonight, but he still hasn't matched the idiocy of McCarver yesterday, who claimed that Varitek getting thrown out at second by 10 yards was a good baserunning play. I think my brain is hemorraging from trying to solve that one.

Dice-K's at 112 pitches through 4 2/3ds. God, he's excruciating. He teases us by breezing through Abreu and A-Rod for the first two outs, but then walks Matsui (his sixth of the night), and Posada ropes a single to left. Here's Giambi as the tying run . . .

. . . and Crisp hauls in his laser. Exhale. I think I'm sweating as profusely as Giambi right now. He must go through a dozen shirts a day.

So, think Dice-K (116 pitches) has another inning left in him? With Papelbon unavailable and Okajima also due for a day of rest, they might need to try to push him through another inning or two. At least you know that he'd just as soon stay out there for 150 pitches.

Just peeked over for the Bruins score. Glad to see they got one. I'm obviously no Gallery God - I think the last time I mentioned them on this blog was when Joe Thornton was traded - but I do follow them and I've been impressed by how they get they most out of very limited talent this season. Julien seems to know what he's doing.

Okay, back to the regularly scheduled programming, the Sox go 1-2-3 in their half, and frankly, at this point, I'm fine with that.

SIXTH INNING
David Aardsma in for Dice-K. I'm encouraged by him, though I have a general distrust for unproven power arms with mediocre command. (I'm talking about you, Blaine Neal.)

Jon Miller mentions that Aardsma replaced Hank Aaron as the first name in the Baseball Encylopedia. C'mon, you knew he couldn't resist.

Aardsma gets Molina to ground out, but walks Gonzalez and Damon back to back. Ugh. Just throw strikes, Meat. That's now a Mantei-like six in six innings for Aardsma this season, and the Yankees have eight walks tonight. Their patience - or the Sox pitchers' lack of command - is keeping them in this game.

Abreu. Can of corn to left. Only the Pink Hats thought it was gone. Of course, I'm now biting my nails and perspiring like the entire Giambi family, including the legendarily super-sweaty Momma G. (Okay, I made that up. But it could be true. Jason got his glandular woes from someone.)

Pedroia hits a rope off the wall, but hesitates slightly around first, and Matsui's crappy throw is just good enough to get him at second. Somewhere, Tim McCarver nods in approval and says to his male nurse, "Now that's great baserunning, son. Can I have my Ovaltine now?"

Gammons tells us Pedroia's hands are the same size as his. I'm not sure what that means, but I fear it's teetering on Too Much Information.

Drew and Manny go quietly against LaTroy Hawkins, and A-Rod is due to leadoff the seventh for New York. This is the perfect time for him to hit a home run - down three with no one on base.

SEVENTH INNING
I'll admit it - I loved the story of the buried Ortiz jersey in the foundation of the new Yankees stadium. You know Hank Steinbrenner would have done everything but fire nuclear missiles at the site if his minions couldn't find the damn thing. If Dr. Steinberg still worked his schmaltz for the Sox, the construction worker who buried the shirt would have thrown out the first pitch tonight.

Aardsma gets A-Rod to fly to right. Huh. I thought this was his moment. Matsui and Posada also go feebly, with a smooth scoop by Casey ending the inning, and that's just what the doctor ordered. Damn, these Sox-Yankees games are a grind. Where's Greg Maddux when you need him?

Sox go in order. Cool with me. Let's get this win in the books and get out of here.

EIGHTH INNING
Oh, Lord, no . . . a Timlin sighting. Shouldn't have counted my victories before they've hatched.

And wouldn't you know it, Giambi takes him deep for the second time in three days, and it's 7-5, Sox. I probably should have learned my lesson about writing off Timlin last year . . . but the guy is 42 years old, and I think John Farrell has better stuff at this point. Are we sure Okajima can't get a couple outs?

Molina, who has been a complete pain-in-the-Steinbrenner in this series, singles, and pinch hitter Melky Cabrera follows with another hit. Get Timlin out of there, Tito. He's fooling no one but you.

Javier Lopez, in to face Damon. Just when I was about to look up his numbers against lefties last year - I don't recall them being good - he breaks Damon's bat and Pedroia makes a savvy tag-and-throw double play to lower our blood pressure a bit. A job well done on all counts.

For what it's worth, lefties hit .293 with an .810 OPS against Lopez last season. Righties? .176/.565. He is not a lefty specialist, despite the funky motion and repertoire of slop.

And whaddaya know: Lopez gets Cano to ground out to Pedroia, thus holding lefties to a .000 average and .000 OPS in this particular game. That's why Tito makes the big bucks while I sit on a couch typing 5,000 words of nonsense for four hours. I'm humbled, not that I had far to go.

Just saw the commercial for the "Walk Hard" DVD. Yup, this should get me through the rest of the night.

Crisp greets Kyle Farnsworth with a scorched single to center. Hmmm. The book said Crisp could crush anyone's fastball during his two productive offensive seasons in Cleveland, but we really have seen him do it since he broke his finger early in the '06 season. Is this, a hard single off one of the hardest throwers in the league, a cause for optimism, a sign that he's going to be a productive hitter again? Here's hoping.

I'm not fond of the term "manufactured run," but that's exactly what Crisp just did with this sequence: Single, steal, advance to third on a fly to right by Lugo, score on a sacrifice fly by Ellsbury. Very impressive, and with the heart of the Yankees order coming up in the ninth, it's a crucial run to make it 8-5.

Man, Posada can't throw - literally. Pedroia just swiped second without drawing anything but a hangdog look. Girardi might be a better option to catch at this point, but I give Posada credit for going in there after Molina came out of the game last inning. It's a selfless thing to do for sure.

Drew flies to left, and thank God, we go to the . . .

NINTH INNING
Lopez departs after getting Abreu thanks to a nice backhand play on a short hop by Lugo, and let the record show he retired all three lefties he faced. Of course, Miller raves about how effective Lopez has been against lefties through many years, which makes me wonder if he's ever even heard of baseball-reference.com. That's the kind of nonsense I expect out of Morgan.

Delcarmen smokes A-Rod, and then you remember why Varitek says he has the second-best stuff on the staff after Beckett, the usual closer included.

Delcarmen wraps up his second big-league save, getting Matsui to ground to Tiny Hands Pedroia to end it. Papelbon couldn't have done it any better.

The final word: Sure, Dice-K pitched like he did last postseason, earning the win while inspiring little faith, but any time you can get a win over the Yankees without using Papi or Papelbon, it has to be considered a successful night. And extra kudos to Aardsma, Lopez (one of the all-time great lefty specialists, in my humble opinion), and Delcarmen, who performed ably while allowing Papelbon and Okajima to get a little relief themselves.

Just one thing left to do:

"G'night, Joe."

"I played for the Big Red Machine! My armpits are very warm!"

Sox-Yanks live blog tonight????

2008-04-13T13:05:00.003-04:00

Possibly. Check back in later if you're one of the seven readers interested in such a thing . . .

Update, 3:52: I'm in. See you around 8 for four hours of Joe Morgan's unique brand of stupidity.

Paps, Papi, and the rest

2008-04-13T00:47:00.004-04:00

A few scattered notes on Saturday's Sox-Yanks rain dance . . .

I'm officially worried about .070-hitting David Ortiz. Not so much about his slump, which seems to grow deeper and more hideous by the day, but about what might be causing it. I cringe when I read he's hobbling around the postgame locker room with a Pedroia-sized icepack on his surgically repaired knee, and it's as logical as it is terrifying to wonder if he's hurt. While I don't put much stock in the theory that aching knees are preventing him from going into his familiar crouch at the plate - even in good times, Papi fiddles with his stance - it's obvious that something is preventing him from getting comfortable at the plate, and it's damn disconcerting to watch him struggle this way. I just hope it's something one well-timed 450-foot home run can cure, and not something that requires a prolonged visit to the disabled list . . . I'm sure I wasn't the only one who fretted about the burden on Jonathan Papelbon's right shoulder while watching him warm up three times before he even threw a pitch today. But while the circumstances weren't exactly ideal, the result - a three-pitch strikeout of Alex Rodriguez with two outs and the tying run on second in the eighth inning - couldn't have been more impressive. Usually you don't see A-Rod look that overmatched until October . . . It's a good thing Lucchino had the Coke bottles taken to the redemption center, because Manny's home run might have shattered them. He really does look like his old self, doesn't he? (Somewhere, Mike Mussina takes a swig of his Zima and nods in agreement) . . . Though the scouting reports tell us he's a Rey Sanchez-type - slick glove, salami bat - Yankees temporary shortstop Alberto Gonzalez has been better than adequate at the plate in this series, and from what I have seen of him defensively, his reputation is justified. Which, by my accounting, makes Captain Jetes the third-best defensive shortstop on the Yankees' roster . . . Two very encouraging pitching developments: Josh Beckett, who had a lost spring due to back and hip injuries, looked like his ace self, allowing just one questionable infield hit through the first five innings. He ran out of gas a little bit in the seventh, but that brings us to the other good sign: an effective, overpowering, one-batter performance from Manny Delcarmen, who relieved Beckett with two outs in the inning and blew away Jose Molina. The more I see of this Sox bullpen, the more convinced I become that Delcarmen is the key to, well, everything . . . This was the kind of game the Sox used to lose to the Yankees. The Yankees would scratch and claw for a few runs against Boston's ace (Pedro in those days), the Sox would make some noisy outs with little to show for it against one of the Yankees' lesser starters (and make no mistake, that's what Mussina is these days - he has nothing), and then New York would steal the win with some timely hitting and/or a fortuitous break in the late innings. I don't know about you, but I like the endings much better these days . . . It's kind of weird without Joe Torre, isn't it? Though I have to admit, it was nice to be able to watch a ballgame without the usual shots of him mining his nostrils for treasure . . . I'm thinking Girardi walks Manny the next time, though pitching to him with first base open is exactly the kind of move you'd expect from a manager who has drawn comparisons to Buck Showalter for all the wrong reasons.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

Framingham Lou has quickly become the best thing about the Big Show. I know, that sounds like it should be filed under "Damning With Faint Praise," but in his new co-host role the former Sox utilityman and Nomar concierge is funny, frank, willing to share an inside-baseball anecdote or two, and clearly has a future in the media game if he wants one.

Nine innings: 04.08.08

2008-04-06T23:51:00.012-04:00

Playing nine innings while hoping Terry Cashman is banned from the premises today . . .

1. Might as well get used to it: Until the Red Sox, 3-4 and slumbering at the bottom of the AL East, start playing up to their capabilities and string a few wins together, we're going to continue hearing about the effects of the trip to Japan. I'm not saying that's how it should be: Really, it's impossible to tell whether their uninspired performance in Toronto this weekend was due to the lingering hangover from all the travel, or the fact that they ran into a pretty damn good opponent, one that has had their number lately. But I will be disappointed if the excuses and gripes come from within the Red Sox clubhouse; the last thing we want is for someone on this accountable team to pull a Mussina and use the whole thing as a chronic excuse for lousy play. While we've heard a couple of mild complaints from Papi, Mike Lowell, and Jonathan Papelbon, I hope the rest of the team leaves the why-me melodrama to the WEEI banshees and mimics Dustin Pedroia's typically blunt take on the whole thing: "Yeah, we had to go to Japan and yeah, we had a 19-day road trip, but that’s the schedule, we have to accept it, no excuses. We played like (expletive) for three games and got our (butt) kicked, how’s that?” Yes, the trip was an ill-conceived money grab. Yes, the abbreviated spring training put their starting pitchers at a disadvantage. Yes, the schedule is hellacious. They have plenty of excuses within their grasp. But this team is rich with talent and has a roster full of experienced professionals, and they have too much going for them to ever have to reach for them.

2. I'm not one of those contrarian dopes who picked the Blue Jays to win the AL East; I still think that when all the innings are accounted for come October, Toronto will end up in its usual spot in third place behind the two superpowers in the division. But after watching them rake the field with the Sox in a three-game sweep over the weekend, I have to admit that the Jays have the potential to be a summer-long aggravation, and if everything falls right, a legitimate contender for a playoff spot. They probably have more "ifs" than the Sox and Yankees do - if A.J. Burnett pitches up to his talent level, if Vernon Wells bounces back, if B.J. Ryan's elbow is sound, if Scott Rolen can stay off the operating table - but it's apparent to me now that J.P. (Sure, I'll Give You A Quote) Ricciardi has put together a pretty damn good baseball team north of the border.

3. Judging by a couple of threads on SoSH (this is the milder one), it appears I was the last remaining human being in New England who had any use for Kyle Snyder. Honestly, I don't get the venom. He was fine for what he was - an 11th or 12th man who knew his role, handled it at least adequately (3.81 ERA, 124 ERA+ a season ago), and had an odd knack for the Three True Outcomes (32 walks, 41 strikeouts, and 7 home runs in 54.3 innings last season). I'm not convinced Julian Tavarez is a better or more useful pitcher, and while David Aardsma and Bryan Corey may prove to be upgrades, there's also a reasonable chance that they will be worse. Snyder will get a big league job, and he deserves one.

4. I'm trying to give Julio Lugo the benefit of the doubt in his sophomore season with the Red Sox. Really, I am. But then he spends the first seven games of the season strangling the bat into sawdust, then makes three careless errors in a Sunday's ugly loss to the Blue Jays, and again I catch myself wondering just what it was that made the front office so fascinated with this guy. Oh, well. At least J.D. Drew looks his second season in Boston will be a major improvement over his first. It appears to me he's swinging the bat better now that he did at any point last season prior to his fateful at-bat against Fausto Carmona.

5. Jacoby Ellsbury is playing center field exactly the way Coco Crisp did during his first season in Boston: Erratically, particularly when in comes to the routes he takes in pursuit of the ball, yet with such incredible speed that he can often outrun his mistakes. One of the pleasant surprises of last season was Crisp's staggering improvement defensively. Hopefully, Ellsbury can make similar leap over the course of this season, because right now he is an undeniable downgrade over his predecessor/temporary platoon partner.

6. Quick non-baseball thoughts: Dick Vitale is in the Basketball Hall of Fame, but Dennis Johnson isn't? I guess we're not supposed to take the thing seriously . . . We finally saw Friday why NBA scouts have mixed feelings about UCLA freshman Kevin Love. Yes, he has a creative offensive game, and maybe he really does throw the best outlet pass since Bill Walton. But he struggled mightily against that blockhead Joey Dorsey and Memphis's rubber-armed defense, both in getting open and getting his shot off, and unless he gets serious about his physical conditioning, the scouts who are skeptical of him might be proven right . . . The Pat Riley who Bob Ryan knew way back when seems much more appealing that the slicked-back egomaniac who has a knack for distancing himself from his basketball team whenever things start to go wrong . . . Love the Pats' signing of Victor Hobson. There's plenty of room for a young, experienced linebacker who is familiar with the system . . . There are no real sleepers in fantasy baseball anymore, but one player I really like who isn't getting much notice is Cleveland's Franklin Gutierrez. He's off to a slow start, but he had 13 homers in 271 at-bats a season ago, and without a mummified Trot Nixon around to take away playing time, he'll get more of an opportunity this season . . . Yeah, I'm psyched about the Office's return Thursday, though after watching a couple of last week's Season 4 repeats, I'm still concerned that the new Jim/Pam dynamic has irreparably changed the show. Their longing for each other gave the show a heart in the midst of the Michael/Dwight silliness, and while I have faith in the writers, I just don't know how they can fill that void.

7. Today's gem from the Sports Illustrated vault: Steve Wulf's enjoyable (if slightly patronizing) feature on my beloved Maine Guides during 1984, their hugely successful first season of existence. Hard to believe they were gone to Scranton/Wilkes-Barre just five years later. I'm still bitter.

8. Quick programming note: Looks like TATB's official move to Boston.com, originally scheduled for today, is on hold for another week. The new template isn't quite good to go - for one thing, I still need my wife to photoshop a picture for my mugshot, and as you might expect that's a hell of a challenging and time-consuming task - so you'll still find me in the blogspot neighborhood for a few more days. Anyway, I suppose it's appropriate that I should hit the 500-post milestone (this sucker is No. 498) here before we board this place up. I'll keep you posted. And again, the invitation remains open to stop by and say hi to TATB on Facebook. It's always cool to see who's actually reading this thing.

9. As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

Larry Wolfe? He was no Butch Hobson. Hell, he wasn't even Jack Brohamer.

(Wolfe brought to you per reader request. Even I'd forgotten about him.)

Prospecting

2008-04-05T00:55:00.020-04:00

Well, at least they got the cover right.

That was my reaction after taking an impromptu spin through the 2002 Baseball America Prospect Handbook the other night while avoiding any real work in my home office. The cover boy, as you might have noticed, happens to be the Red Sox' starting pitcher this afternoon. Josh Beckett* not only was rated the top prospect in the Marlins' system, but he was also the No. 1 prospect in all of baseball.

* - Stealing a Pozterisk yet again, here are two snippets from Beckett's writeup that jumped out at me:

1. "[Beckett] had a serious scare with two tours on the disabled list with shoulder tendinitis in 2000. Offseason tests diagnosed two tears in his labrum, fraying in his rotator cuff, biceps tendinitis, and an impingement. Dr. James Andrews advised against surgery. Beckett worked hard to rehabilitate his shoulder in the winter, and came out firing." I think we now know why the Sox were terrified of his MRI before trading for him.

2. "He has a maturity beyond his years, easily trading barbs with older players, writers, and club officials and always looking people in the eye. He's good, knows he's good, and never would think of shrinking from his apparent destiny." Sure sounds like Beckett to me.

Anyway, back on point . . . you don't need a copy of Beckett's baseball resume to know he has justified every word of hype that preceded him to the majors. But check out these names that were ranked in the top 25 of one writer's top 100 prospects list:

Joe Borchard. Ryan Anderson. Nick Neugebauer. Corwin Malone. Dennis Tankersley. Ty Howington. Wilson Betemit.

Betemit, a former hotshot Braves farmhand, is the most successful big leaguer from that crew of who's-hes? and never-weres. He currently serves as A-Rod's rarely utilized stunt double in the Bronx.

Now, I don't mean to bust on Baseball America. I've been a faithful reader of their magazine since I was in college, I own every Prospect Handbook since 2002, and I genuinely respect the work they do and the insight they impart. It's because of their hard work that we fans (and nitwit bloggers) can be informed of the perceived strengths and weaknesses of the likes of Clay Buchholz and Jacoby Ellsbury (and Jed Lowrie and Justin Masterson and . . . ) before they ever set cleat in Fenway.

It's just that I have this theory about evaluating and ranking baseball prospects, and while it is rather rudimentary and probably even obvious, I do believe it's the whole truth:

I think it's fairly easy to spot the superstars-to-be, the Becketts, Miguel Cabreras, and Joe Mauers, but forecasting the future for anyone other than the truly elite is a feat not even the most sharp-eyed scout, adept numbers-cruncher, or clued-in Baseball America columnist can accomplish with any consistency. And that's before you factor in injuries, which seem to derail a couple of top pitching prospects for every one that makes it. In other words: There's just no foolproof way of knowing how good a 20-year-old kid will be at baseball when he's 25. It's a virtually impossible pursuit.

All of that considered, I thought it would be interesting to take a look at some of individual teams' Top 30 prospect lists from that 2002 Handbook. After all, six years later, we should have a pretty accurate picture of how things panned out . . . or, in most cases, didn't pan out. In parentheses is the player's rating within his own organization. I'll probably add a few more teams in the coming days - it's not like we can pass up the chance to remind Yankees fans that 3B/QB Drew Henson was once their Next Big Thing. (Snicker.)

As for today's offerings . . . enjoy, my fellow nerds:

ANAHEIM ANGELS
Phenoms: RHP Bobby Jenks (2), RHP John Lackey (3), RHP Francisco Rodriguez (6), RHP Johan Santana (9)

Flops: LHP Joe Torres (5), 3B Dallas McPherson (12)

. . . and those lingering somewhere in between: 1B Casey Kotchman (1), RHP Chris Bootcheck (4), OF Nathan Haynes (8), C Jeff Mathis (10), Derrick Turnbow (13), RHP Scot Shields (22)

Six years later: Yes, "Johan" Santana is actually Ervin Santana (explanation here). The Angels' version is obviously the lesser of the two Santanas, but despite a maddening inconsistency that often forces manager Mike Scioscia to take solace in the comforting embrace of the buffet table, he does possess the ability to be a top-of-the-rotation starter . . . Pretty impressive collection of arms, though Jenks and Turnbow had to go elsewhere to find success . . . I didn't categorize Kotchman as a bust since injuries and illness have prevented him from living up to his talent. He's been effecctive when healthy and could still have Sean Casey's career with any luck.

BOSTON RED SOX
Phenoms: Kevin Youkilis (29)

Flops: RHP Seung Song (1), 3B Tony Blanco (2), RHP Rene Miniel (3), Juan Diaz (12), Steve Lomasney (16), Dernell Stenson (19), Sunny Kim (22)

. . . and those lingering somewhere in between: Manny Delcarmen (4), Freddy Sanchez (6), Frank Francisco (10), Kelly Shoppach (20), Juan Pena (21)

Six years later: They've come a long way, baby . . . This was the season before Theo Epstein took over as GM, and the organization was pretty damn far from being "a player development machine" . . . How about that big three? Song never threw a pitch in the majors (though he did bring Cliff Floyd in trade), Blanco, who had a cannon arm and not much else in the way of tools, had a cup of coffee with the Nationals, and Miniel washed out in Double A . . . It's easy to forget Delcarmen has been in the system so long. I still think of him as a developing player . . . This is about the time Youkilis first caught Billy Beane's eye, posting a .512 on-base percentage in the NY-Penn League. The guy is almost entirely a self-made player . . . Too bad the Sox had to give up Shoppach in the Crisp/Marte deal. He'd be the perfect backup catcher for this team . . . The one that got away: Sanchez has a .311 career average. He's the player people such as Remy think David Eckstein is . . . Rest in peace, Dernell. I think you would have made it.

CHICAGO CUBS
Phenoms: RHP Mark Prior (1), RHP Carlos Zambrano (6), LHP Dontrelle Willis (21)

Flops: 1B Hee Seop Choi (3), 3B David Kelton (4), 2B Bobby Hill (5), RHP Ben Christenson (8), SS Luis Montanez (10)

. . . and those lingering somewhere in between: RHP Juan Cruz (2), SS Ronny Cedeno (17), RHP Todd Wellemeyer (18), SS Ryan Theriot (24)

Six years later: Prior is little more than a cautionary tale now, another arm chewed up and spit out by Dusty Baker, so it's easy to forget he had established himself as legitimate ace by the time he was 22. Check out his '03 numbers: 18-6, 2.43 ERA (the league average was 4.33), and 178 ERA+ . . . Willis never pitched in the bigs for the Cubs: He was dealt to the Marlins in March, 2002, along with everyone's favorite lunatic Julian Tavarez for Matt Clement and Antonio Alfonseca . . . By the way, Willis's most similar pitcher through age 25: Steve Avery. Does. Not. Bode. Well. . . . The fascinating kid is Kelton, who looked every part the phenom and who the Prospect Guide notes "was on pace to bat .300-30-100 in Double A at age 21 when he (hurt his hand)." It must have been some injury, because he never saw a day in the majors and was out of baseball at 26.

CLEVELAND INDIANS
Phenoms: C Victor Martinez (6)

Flops: 3B Corey Smith (1), OF Alex Escobar (2), RHP Dan Denham (4), RHP Tim Drew (12)

. . . and those lingering somewhere in between: RHP David Riske (7), LHP Brian Tallet (8), LHP Billy Traber (9), OF Willy Taveras (11), SS John McDonald (14), OF Ryan Church (15), SS John Peralta (19), C Josh Bard (21), SS Maicer Izturis (22).

Six years later: Smith's actually the player who piqued my curiosity in the first place. The Prospect Handbook said of the Indians' 2001 first round pick, "Smith gets rave reviews for his makeup and work ethic. He is, plain and simple, a baseball player." Yet the stats suggest he had at least one glaring flaw: He whiffed 149 times in Single A. As it turns out, it was a flaw he couldn't overcome. He played just five games above Double A and spent last season with the Newark Bears of the Atlantic League . . . I believe you now know John Peralta as Jhonny . . . Escobar was the centerpiece of the Mets' trade for Roberto Alomar, but a severe knee injury, among other ailments, prevented him from living up to his talent . . . Martinez is the best-hitting catcher in the game and someone I never expect the Red Sox to get out . . . Tim Drew was drafted with the 28th pick in the '97 draft - 26 picks after the Phillies chose his brother, J.D.

COLORADO ROCKIES
Phenoms: 3B Garrett Atkins (3), OF Matt Holliday (11), OF Brad Hawpe (27)

Flops: RHP Chin-Hui Tsao (1), RHP Ryan Kibler (4), RHP Jason Young (5), OF Rene Reyes (7), RHP Ching-Lung Lo (9)

. . . and those lingering somewhere in between: RHP Aaron Cook (2), DH Jack Cust (6), RHP Jason Jennings (8), 2B Jason Nix (10), LHP Brian Fuentes (18)

Six years later: More proof that rating prospects can be an embarrasing endeavor: Holliday and Hawpe, who combined for 65 homers for the NL champs last season, were ranked below fellow outfielder Reyes, and Choo Freeman rated higher than Hawpe . . . In his eighth season of pro ball, Nix is finally breaking through this season, succeeding Kaz Matsui as the Rockies' second baseman . . . Not surprisingly, there's high rate of washouts among their top pitching prospects. Only the sinkerballer Cook and Jennings have had any success in the majors. Coors Field devours its young . . . Tsao, the top prospect, had Tommy John surgery and a torn labrum in his shoulder, but he's still kicking around and is currently in the Royals' system . . . Cust could have put up some sick offensive numbers in Colorado, but he's a DH in the same sense that Sam Horn was. He shouldn't even bother owning a glove.

FLORIDA MARLINS
Phenoms: Beckett (1), 3B Miguel Cabrera (2), 1B Adrian Gonzalez (4)

Flops: RHP Allen Baxter (5), OF Abraham Nunez (6), RHP Blaine Neal (8), 1B Jason Stokes (11), OF Chip Ambres (13)

. . . and those lingering somewhere in between: RHP Denny Bautista (3), RHP Claudio Vargas (7), SS Josh Wilson (9), 2B Pablo Ozuna (12), RHP Jason Grilli (25)

Six years later: One of the two or three best pitchers in the game and one of the top two or three hitters? Now that's a rich farm system . . . Sheesh, Gonzalez, a former No. 1 overall selection who has turned out to be a truly outstanding hitter, would have been the top prospect in most systems . . . Bautista, who was mentored by his cousin Pedro Martinez, hasn't put it all together in trials with Baltimore, Kansas City and Colorado, but he made the Tigers out of camp this season and at age 27, there's still hope . . . Baxter had a series of arm problems and hasn't made it above Double A, but he's still pitching in the Florida system . . . Neal might be one of my most despised Red Sox of the past 10 years . . . Stokes was the Marlins' hitter last spring who claimed Daisuke Matsuzaka struck him out with a gyroball . . . Ambres, a toolsy sort who never quite mastered the subtleties of baseball, was the player the Sox dealt to Kansas City for Tony Graffanino in '05.

NEW YORK METS
Phenoms: SS Jose Reyes (2), 3B David Wright (5)

Flops: RHP Pat Strange (3), RHP Jae Weong Seo (4), RHP Satoru Komiyama (6), RHP Grant Roberts (7)

. . . and those lingering somewhere in between: RHP Aaron Heilman (1), RHP Tyler Yates (8), C Jason Phillips (17), LHP Lenny DiNardo (20), OF Angel Pagan (23)

Six years later: Reyes? Wright? Whatever happened to those guys? . . . Actually, it's a tribute to BA that they were both ranked in the top five since they had just 193 games of pro experience between them at the time . . . Hard to believe Heilman was ranked so high. He's always had good breaking stuff and command, but has never had a blazing fastball that's usually a prerequisite for a premier pitching prospect . . . Strange got into 11 games with the Mets over parts of two seasons, but has seen the big leagues since '03 . . . Roberts was once the Mets' top prospect but, um, burned out.

And that seems like an appropriate place to sign off . . .

A brief tribute to Matt Stairs

2008-04-03T23:23:00.010-04:00

My perception of Matt Stairs through the years? A fat guy who could hit a little. A better version of Morgan Burkhart. I doubt he'd take either of those comments as compliments.

But as I was poking around baseball-reference.com for some Blue Jays info a day or so ago, I happened upon his page and quickly came to this somewhat surprising realization: Stairs has had a remarkable and distinctive big league career. Judging my the numbers, he's much more accomplished than you - or at least I - ever realized.

Now, I suppose he's easily underestimated by dopes like me in part because he's ringer for the guy who took your recyclables this morning. He's built like a Heineken Keg Can and is probably familiar with the concept. He looks exactly like what you'd think a high school hockey coach in Bangor, Maine, would look like - which, coincidentally, is precisely what he happens to be in the offseason.

But he's much more impressive on the back of his baseball card than on the front. He's hit at least 10 homers every year since '96, and at least 16 nine times. He's tied with Jesse Barfield, Rick Monday, Alfonso Soriano, and Cecil Cooper for 200th place on the all-time home run list with 241. His lifetime OPS+ is 120, four points lower than Jeff Kent's and two lower than Derek Jeter's.

He's had a hell of a career by most any measure, and you have to wonder how much more impressive it would be if he'd caught a break sooner. Stairs debuted with 30 at-bats for the Expos in '92, bounced back and forth a few times, was a transient member of the Duquette Taxi Squad for the '95 Red Sox (he hit .261 in 88 at-bats), and has played for 10 teams along the way, even spending a game at second base for the '01 Cubs. I'm assuming he made Jeter look rangy.

His breakthrough came at age 29 when he hit 27 homers for the '97 A's. Two years later, he bashed 38 homers for that wild '99 Oakland club, and I'm guessing not even Billy Beane figured he'd outlast a certain 23-year-old teammate with a No. 1-pick pedigree who whacked 27 homers of his own that season. Where have you gone, Ben Grieve?

Stairs turned 40 in February, and he's signed through next season with the Jays, which means he has a great shot at spending at least a part of 17 seasons in the big leagues. Given that he hit 21 homers with a 138 OPS+ last season, hell, he may not be on his last contract.

I hope he lasts another five years, and I'll be following him with interest now that I recognize the truth: Still and always, late start and all, Matt Stairs is a supremely capable big league hitter. Even if some of us didn't always notice.

TATB elsewhere

2008-04-03T17:43:00.002-04:00

Just a quick link to a recent informal chat about the AL East with my much smarter friends at baseballanalysts.com. And for the record, I still think Justin Verlander, not Josh Beckett, is the favorite for the AL Cy Young. Beckett's the most likely candidate from the division (though Toronto's Dustin McGowan is a hell of a compelling sleeper) but in the Analysts piece I make it sound like I think he's the frontrunner to win the thing. Not so; it's Verlander, as I wrote here the other day. Hey, I never said I had a way with words . . .

Season's greetings

2008-04-01T20:10:00.022-04:00

A few thoughts on the new season while kind of missing the late, not particularly great Fox column . . .

Player you'll regret not taking with your first-round pick in fantasy: Hanley Ramirez, who is no longer that skinny kid who tailed Manny, Papi, and Edgar Renteria like a puppy in spring training three years ago. At age 24, he's now built like an NFL safety, and I wouldn't be stunned if his stats this season actually surpass those of last season's monstrous breakthrough (.332 average, 212 hits, 29 homers, 125 runs, 51 steals, 145 OPS+). He's that good.

Most likely to pay a career-altering visit to Dr. James Andrews: Albert Pujols, whose damaged elbow is apparently a porcelain remnant from the Scott Williamson Collection. It's noble of him to try to play through the injury, but the hunch here is that he'll shut it down sometime around July once the punchless Cardinals are hopelessly out of it. Honorable mention: The Rays' Scott Kazmir. Maybe the Rays are just being cautious, but this "elbow strain" sure seems to be taking a long time to heal.

One reason Joe Posnanski will enjoy writing about this baseball season even more than usual: The Royals are going to be better than most so-called experts think, and may even finish ahead of the Twins in the AL Central. Joakim Soria will emerge as a bona fide relief ace, Zack Greinke, finally at peace with the great expectations, will blossom, Billy Butler will stake his claim as one of the best young hitters in the AL, and Alex Gordon will justify last year's hype. Dayton Moore, formerly John Schuerholz's personal Smithers in Atlanta, is building this franchise on the Braves' model . . . and with little fanfare he's doing a swell job.

Two baseball writers (other than Poz) who have become must-reads: Jonah Keri, who writes with an easy affection for baseball and is doing his damndest to keep the spirit of the Expos alive at ESPN.com; and Keith Law, a former member of the Toronto Blue Jays front office who is still pissed J.P. Ricciardi took someone named Ricky Romero over Troy Tulowitzki in the '05 draft.

Most likely to be found dead in a hotel room with a needle stuck in his dumb #*^: Best-selling author Jose Canseco. And the suspects will be aplenty. (Man, I can't stop re-reading that Pat Jordan masterpiece/evisceration on Deadspin.)

Roy Halladay, No. 2 starter: Because Dustin McGowan, who had a 3.67 ERA in the second half last season, will take over the ace role from the former Cy Young winner, whose K-rate these days is less than impressive (partially by design, but still) and who hasn't won more than 16 games since '03.

And the awards go to . . .: AL MVP: All logic says to go with A-Rod, who will be aiming to win the prize for the third time in five season in pinstripes. If there's any justice, however, Papi, with his five top-five finishes in five seasons, will get his due one of these years. AL Cy Young: Justin Verlander, who takes no-hit stuff to the mound every fifth day and who should lead the league in run support for the second year in a row. NL MVP: Mark Teixeira, who will parlay a monster year with the Braves into huge pile of Old Man Steinbrenner's loot. NL Cy Young: The great Mr. Santana, which means WEEI listeners will be forced to spend the summer listening the banshees yowl "Why can't we get guys like that?" God help us, it's already starting.

The standings: AL East champion: It's my new tradition to pick the Yankees solely for reverse jinx purposes, but let's just say I like this Sox team a lot, provided, of course, that Josh Beckett makes approximately 30 starts. The trendy Jays? Third place, at least until Ricciardi starts returning my calls. And the Rays are intriguing, but they're a year away from being a legitimate contender. James Shields (184 Ks, 36 walks in '07) is a budding ace, and you can tell how good Evan Longoria is by how pissed his teammates were when he was sent to Triple A. AL Central champion: Cleveland. Detroit should thump out around 1,000 runs, but the Indians' pitching is vastly superior. AL West champion: Seattle. This is the year King Felix lives up to the nickname, and Eric Bedard makes a hell of a No. 2. AL wild card: Boston. You know my game. NL East champion: New York. Philly doesn't have the pitching. NL Central champion: Chicago. Here's hoping Kerry Wood, recast as a closer, survives the season with a healthy right arm. One of the game's most talented pitchers is long deserving of some good luck. NL West champion: Colorado. Am I the only one who doesn't think it was a fluke? NL wild card: Los Angeles. Hat tip to Joe Torre for playing the kids. He's making Grady Little look like a fool again.

Best player on a hideous team: I suppose it could be Hanley, though I don't think Marlins are that bad - not Baltimore bad, anyway. So let's go with the Orioles' Nick Markakis, who hit .325 with 14 homers and 61 RBIs in the second half and appears poised to become one of the elite offensive players in the AL, despite the sludge that surrounds him in the lineup.

Most in need of a B-12 shot: Astros shortstop Miguel Tejada, who looks like he's been on the Pudge Rodriguez diet and has the defensive range of a cement-encased Jeter.

Sox pitcher most likely to cause the few remaining brown hairs on my head to turn gray: Jon Lester, who could be Chuck Finley reincarnated (minus the loony ex-wife) if only he would trust his repertoire. (Ed. Note: Dice-K's candidacy for this "honor" took a major hit with last night's masterpiece.)

The best young pitcher in the AL this season won't be Clay Buchholz or Bugs Chamberlain: It will be the Yankees' Philip Hughes, who will win well into double digits while emerging as the No. 2 starter the Bombers desperately need behind Chien-Ming Wang. The Twins are going to long regret not getting this polished 21-year-old righthander in a deal for Santana when they apparently had the chance.

The 1962 Mets, reincarnated? The San Francisco Giants, who have Bengie Molina (103 homers in 3,418 career at-bats) batting cleanup and who had 36-year-olds Rich Aurilia, Ray Durham, and Dave Roberts in their Opening Day lineup, along with Randy Winn (34) and Molina (33). If you're going to be brutal, shouldn't you at least be young? Two other questions: Will Tim Lincecum and Matt Cain combine to go 8-33 with a 2.95 ERA? And how does Brian Sabean keep his job?

The J.D. Drew suck-it-up-and-play-you-wimp award: To J.D. Drew. Suck it up and play. You wimp.

Written proof that the Legend of Bo isn't some myth embellished through the years by 30-something pre-geezers like me: In this week's gem from the Sports Illustrated vault, here is a fun piece some guy named Gammons wrote in 1989 about the genuine awe Bo inspired in other big leaguers. My favorite part:

Jackson's one-on-one confrontations with pitchers are already legend. On May 11, Jackson struck out four times against the Rangers' Nolan Ryan. "It was really fun," said Ryan afterward. "By the last couple of times up, he was on almost every pitch, so with a lead in the ninth, I just reared back and threw as hard as I could, and he swung as hard as he could. I wonder what would have happened if he'd made contact." Ryan found out 12 days later. Jackson struck out in his first two at bats. Third time up, Ryan brushed Bo back, then sent him reeling on the next pitch with a 95-mph zinger over Jackson's head. Bo, popping his bubble gum all the while, wandered out of the box and stared at Ryan, then finally stepped back in. Ryan came in with a fastball. Jackson fouled it off. Ryan challenged him again. The ball landed high in the centerfield bleachers, 461 feet away, the longest at Arlington Stadium since they started measuring there. "They'd better get a new tape measure," said Bo.

They'd better get a new tape measure. What a great line. I've said it before and I'll say it again: If you didn't see Bo in his two-sport heyday, you missed one of the most enjoyable shows in sports history. Too bad it had such a short run, though I suppose that enhances the legend in the end.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

As a 27-year-old rookie for the 1978 Red Sox, Wright went 8-4 with a 3.57 ERA in 116 innings. The next year he had 5.09 ERA in 23 innings, and after June 6, 1979, he never threw a pitch in the majors again. Any of you semi-old timers know what happened? An arm injury? Or was he a junkballing fluke? I ask only because until recently I forgot about Wright's surprising, relevant role with the doomed '78 club, and remembering him while poking around baseball-reference piqued my curiosity about what became of him.

Jose Canseco: Dumber and meaner than your average idiot

2008-03-28T23:58:00.009-04:00

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free throwaway lines for you . . .

1. I think we all knew Jose Canseco was a blinking moron, but his public image - or at least the way I perceived him - was that of an amiable caricature, a mostly harmless if egomaniacal doofus, the kind of guy who, I don't know, might get busted racing his Ferrari at 120 mph or let a fly ball doink off his thick coconut for a home run. Man, have I been set straight. In this this probably NSFW piece, written for Deadspin by the brilliant Pat Jordan*, Canseco is exposed beyond a doubt as an incurable scumbag, a stupid and pathetic shell of a man who seems on the fast track for an early demise. A snippet:

Jose spends his days at his house in Sherman Oaks, California, off the Ventura Freeway near the San Fernando Valley, home of the porn industry, waiting for producers to call to inform him that the time is ripe, America is now hungry for a Kung Fu movie starring a steroid-inflated, Cuban, ex-baseball player in his forties. In anticipation of that call, Jose showed off his martial arts moves to the man who choreographed "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon." The man watched Jose's 250-pound body spin and kick and leap into the air for a few minutes and then he told Jose that his moves "were stiff, not very fluid, and you don't kick very well." Jose told Rob, "That guy doesn't know what the ---- he's talking about."

While there's much more tragedy in Canseco's life than comedy, I have to admit the visual of that oblivious meathead breaking out the ninja moves made me laugh out loud.

* - Jordan, a famed and prolific freelancer, authored two of my most beloved books, "A False Spring," about washing out as a Braves' bonus baby in the '50s, and "A Nice Tuesday," a sort of follow-up memoir about returning to the pitching mound at age 56. Read them if you haven't. I promise you'll be glad you did. Jordan also had a memorable take on Roger Clemens in the immediate aftermath of the release of the Mitchell Report. Check it out here. And finally, yes, I stole the asterisk concept from Posnanski**. I only wish I could steal his talent. Or Jordan's.

** - Who admits he stole the concept from David Foster Wallace. So there.

2. Chris Webber limped into retirement this week, the health of his knees and the last remnants of his vertical leap sacrificed to the Hardwood Gods long ago, and I guess that makes him something of a sympathetic figure. But there will be no sentimental farewell coming from this corner for Webber, a charming, charismatic chameleon who coasted by on his natural talents and who must be remembered as one of the least clutch players in the history of the sport. He departs with some fine numbers and countless Stu Scott-voiced highlights, but I'll remember C-Webb as one of is game's great underachievers given the gifts he possessed. Or maybe I'm just bitter, since his retirement left me with the realization that the Fab Five - Michigan's high-flying, trend-setting freshman class of Webber, Jalen Rose, Juwon Howard, Jimmy King and Ray Jackson - burst onto the scene 17 years ago. God, I'm ancient. Maybe I ought to retire.

3. And while we're here, might as well also add this to the list of things that make my pre-geezer self consider swigging a Metamucil-and-Drano cocktail: I remember watching Davidson phenom Stephen Curry's dad play . . . when he was in college at Virginia Tech, before he embarked on a 16-year NBA career. And the son definitely got his father Dell's dead-eye jumpshooter gene - his release is blink-and-you'll-miss-it quick and his form, save for a slightly low release point, is nearly as picture-perfect as his old man's. While I'm tempted to equate Stephen Curry's NBA chances with those of someone like Salim Stoudamire, the wish here is that all of his hoop dreams come true, because it has been an absolute treat to watch him work his long-range magic during Davidson's improbable, delightful run.

4. Enough with the contrived arguments that make the Patriots sound like the New England Home For Wayward Young Men And Talented Football Players. Yes, Randy Moss and Corey Dillon both have pockmarked histories, and we know they both redeemed themselves to varying degrees when given a chance by saintly Father Belichick. But Pacman Jones, for all of his talent - and he was the best player on the field when the Pats played the Titans in '06 - is an entirely more menacing case, and he doesn't exactly seem eager to reform himself. Let's put it bluntly: He's more likely to be on the giving or receiving end of a gun than current any athlete I can think of; I don't want the guy in New England, never mind playing for New England, and I'm glad the Patriots apparently feel the same way.

5. Southern Cal's Keith Rivers was my sleeper pick for the Patriots with the No. 7 overall selection, and it seems as though they do have some interest since the versatile linebacker was scheduled for a visit this week. But if reports that he scored mediocre 16 on the Wonderlic are true, I have to imagine that would send him slip-sliding down their draft board. The Belichick Pats have little use for linebackers who are in danger of redefining the term "tackling dummy."

6. One game I'm dying to see on ESPN Classic: Eddie House's 61-point performance in Arizona State's 111-108 double overtime victory over Cal in January, 2000. Sadly, the network's decision to switch to all Stump The Schwab all the time means I'll probably get to see it only if it somehow materializes on YouTube. No luck so far.

7. Yeah, Jason Varitek looked calcified during his 0-for-Tokyo performance, and I did chuckle when a Whiner Line wise guy wondered if he was somehow paying homage to the departed Doug Mirabelli by whiffing six times in eight at-bats in the series. But does this mean we should worry that Varitek, who turns 36 two weeks from now, is cooked as a hitter? Nah . . . c'mon, it's too soon for that stuff; hell, let them play a game on this continent first before making any rash judgments. Varitek's bat looks slow even when he is hitting, and I tend to think Bill James's 2008 projection for him (.253-17-70) is right about where he will end up.

8. This week's selection (yes, a new recurring feature!) from the addictive, potentially life-altering SI Vault: Jack McCallum's June 26, 1995, cover story on Chicago prep star Kevin Garnett's decision to skip college and head straight to the NBA. I thought this take on what Garnett might become as a player was fascinating and quite accurate, though I don't think anyone has compared him to Reggie Miller lately:

The buzz about this year's draft is that, yes, it's good and deep, but it's also short on future superstars. Jerry Stackhouse might be one, and Garnett might be one. That's it. Garnett's leaping ability is off the charts, he runs the floor like a sprinter, he shoots 20-foot jumpers with ease and perfect rotation, and he's the best-passing big man in the draft. Most teams believe he'll eventually be a do-everything small forward, but for now let's give him a new handle. Call him a faceup 4, a power forward who can hurt you from anywhere, a cross between Reggie Miller and a kinder, gentler version of Alonzo Mourning.

Notably, McCallum wrote this in his mock draft in which he predicted Garnett would go to Washington Bullets with the No. 4 pick:

We've long thought Washington 's youthful star, Chris Webber, has the savvy to be a stabilizing influence on other young players. Chris, you're Kevin's favorite player. Here's your chance.

There's some irony there, no?

9. Couple of quick housekeeping items: For the few of you who asked, it looks like the big move to Boston.com will be happening right around April 8, which, not coincidentally, is the date of the home opener. I've seen a mock of what the blog will look like, and I really like it. Also, keep the Facebook friend requests coming. It's nice to see you suckers as names and faces rather than IP addresses.

10. As for today's Completely Random Basketball Card:

Of all the talented and intelligent players from the Lakers/Celtics rivalry in the '80s, who would have thought that the most enduring and/or successful coach from either roster would be Scott, with Rick Carlisle a competitive second? I think my money at the time would have been on D.J., though Larry was much better on the bench than he's been in the Indy front office.

One down

2008-03-26T00:07:00.008-04:00

Jumping to a couple of super-quick conclusions after 1 of 162 . . .

* * *
I'll refrain from becoming the 490th person you've heard today mention that Manny Ramirez is on pace for 648 RBIs - whoops, maybe I won't - but it is worth mentioning that Manny had just two four-RBI games during his subpar '07 season. (July 22 against the White Sox and July 26 against Cleveland.) So, yes, I'd say we're justified in at least hoping his dazzling season debut - which included his patented "Oh, $*%*, I'd better stop admiring my handiwork and start running" move - is harbinger of a huge comeback season to come. Do I think Manny is capable of accomplishing the improbable and rediscovering his Monster-mashing mojo in a season during which he'll turn 36? Let's put it this way: My fantasy baseball draft is Saturday, and Manny rose more than a couple of spots on my draft board at around 10 a.m. Monday morning. Hell, I was a believer before today, but it was nonetheless reassuring to see him actually deliver.

* * *

I like Dice-K, and admire him for ease in which he became one of the guys in the Sox clubhouse despite some obvious barriers. I'm glad he pitches for this team, and I believe he'll have the kind of season you'd expect from the No. 2 starter on a legitimate championship contender. Anyone who considers his first season in the majors a disappointment falls somewhere between unrealistic and irrational; not even Pedro in his prime could have lived up to that amount of hype. Now, sincere disclaimers aside, here's my one recurring frustration with him: It's maddening to watch him nibble and refuse to challenge the mediocre likes of Jack Hannahan and Emil Brown. He'll get the count in his favor, say 1-2, then throw the next three pitches just off the plate, which is how he ends up walking hitters who have no business reaching base against him. It severely detracts from the experience of watching him pitch, and I was hoping John Farrell or someone in the organization had convinced him to trust his stuff a little bit more now that he has a year of big league success documented on the back of his baseball card. But based on what we saw today - five walks in five innings - he's still intent on trying to throw the perfect pitch, even when the moment doesn't call for it.

* * *

Finally, the most interesting baseball story I read today comes from SI.com stellar (if Yankee-centric) Tom Verducci, who looks back on the 2005 amateur draft and how it provided a turning point in terms of philosophy as well as an infusion of young talent for both the Red Sox and the Yankees. I thought the following extended segment was the most interesting part in a genuinely insightful piece:

Epstein had his doubts [about Buchholz, who was caught stealing laptops from a middle school while in college]. Scouting director Jason McLeod thought that Boston should take Buchholz with an early pick, but Epstein, worried about the baggage, would roll his eyes every time McLeod mentioned him. Finally, Epstein told McLeod, "Listen, if you feel that strongly, the only way I'm going to feel comfortable picking him early is if I can meet him. Let's bring him to Fenway, have him throw and then grill him. Let's find out if this is a bad guy who got caught or a good guy who made a bad mistake."

One week before the draft, Buchholz threw in the Fenway Park bullpen for Epstein and McLeod while the Red Sox took batting practice. Says Epstein, "His stuff was ridiculous." Then the three of them left the bullpen and stood in Fenway's centerfield, while David Ortiz whacked balls off the Green Monster, over their heads and at their feet.

Asked about the theft, Buchholz told Epstein that he had been just a lookout and it was a dumb decision he regretted. "Look," Epstein told him, "we're thinking about taking you. But if we do, we're putting our reputations on the line. If you screw up, it'll be on us. We'll have a zero-tolerance policy with you. So tell us right now why we should believe in you."

Replied Buchholz, "Because all I've ever wanted to be is a big league pitcher. This is too important to me."

Funny how it's all played out. I wonder how many fans realize the Sox ended up with Jacoby Ellsbury and Buchholz as the compensation picks for letting Orlando Cabrera and Pedro Martinez depart. (They also picked Craig Hansen as compensation for losing Derek Lowe, and their own first-rounder, No. 28 overall, went to the Cardinals when they signed Edgar Renteria. St. Louis chose phenom Colby Rasmus. So not everything worked out perfectly.)

* * *

As for Today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

Because sometimes it really is random.

2008 Red Sox preview capsule

2008-03-24T16:01:00.017-04:00

Foul tips and other observations: I suppose there will be some lingering effects from the Japan trip, whether it's an extended case of jet lag for a few players or, less likely, a team-wide outbreak of the dreaded Giambi Parasites. And given their hellacious early schedule - they have five games with the Yankees, three with the Angels, three with Detroit, and two with Cleveland in a stretch from April 8-27 during which they have exactly zero days off - they'll be fortunate to escape the season's first full month with a .500 record . . . And you know what happens then: the WEEI banshees and "Francoma"-bashing morons will be screeching in all their miserable glory . . . But to anyone with a shred of patience and a dollop of common sense, it should be apparent that this is a very good baseball team - hell, it's basically the same team to a man that rejoiced in Colorado last October - and the chances of back-to-back championships (and three in five years, as you might have heard) are at the least realistic, even with a slow start . . . The key to it all? Mr. Beckett, of course . . . The new Mr. October may not have been the best pitcher in the majors last season, but he was in the argument, and there's no one else you'd want on the mound in a big moment . . . Beckett's career postseason numbers would make Bob Gibson tip his cap in tribute: 9 starts, 6 wins, 2 losses, 1.73 ERA, 72.2 innings. 40 hits (yes, 40), 14 walks, 82 strikeouts, and two World Series rings . . . But if this back injury lingers, well, let's not think about that right now . . . In some respects, Daisuke Matsuzaka remains as much of a mystery now as he was before he ever threw a big league pitch . . . The consensus seems to be that he will be better in Year 2, but it's mildly alarming that Hideo Nomo wasn't the only Japanese pitcher to peak in his first big league season . . . The expectation here is pretty much more of the same: 15-16 wins, an ERA in the high 3s, 200 or so Ks, and a maddening habit of nibbling against subpar hitters . . . I would not be shocked if Jon Lester surpassed Dice-K as the second starter. John Farrell is adamant that the admirable 24-year-old lefty can win at least 15 games this season, and I've learned it's wise to listen to John Farrell . . . A subtly crucial development that helped the Sox lock down the AL East last season: Tim Wakefield winning 17 games. I wouldn't put it past ol' Knucksie again, though he is on the wrong side of 40 and has broken down at the end of each of the past two seasons . . . Bartolo Colon should be able to collect the 8-10 wins they were counting on from Curt Schilling, though there surely is no comparison between the two when it comes to October. . . I've been watching "Bull Durham" as I write this, and the truth dawned on me: Jonathan Papelbon is Nuke LaLoosh, albeit with a more compact (okay, masculine) delivery . . . It's funny, this is the beginning of Papelbon's third full season with the Sox, yet he's such a staple now, one of the franchise's icons, that it feels like he's been around so much longer. Hard to believe he was in Single A during the '04 season. I tend to think of him as a member of that championship team . . . Count me among those who think Manny Delcarmen will emerge as one of the better righthanded setup men in the AL. The stuff is there, and his confidence should finally be as well. He's been around long enough now to know he can do this . . . It's unlikely that Hideki Okajima will duplicate his staggering brilliance of last season, especially now that the league is familiar with his quirks, but the "Hero in the Dark" will still be plenty good enough. What a find he was . . . I'm starting to think Mike Timlin will be pitching for this team when Manny and Papi's sons are anchoring the lineup. If there were a wing at the Hall of Fame for middle relievers, he'd be a lock for a plaque . . . As for the bats . . . The Sox scored 867 runs last year. Betcha they break 900 this season . . . Why? For starters, probable improvement from J.D. Drew and Julio Lugo, both of whom simply must be better in their sophomore seasons in Boston . . . Also, dynamic Jacoby Ellsbury is almost certain to be a significant offensive upgrade over Coco Crisp once the center field job officially belongs to him . . . But the biggest reason we're expecting a few more crooked numbers for the home team on the Fenway scoreboard this season? A return to form by the one and only Manuel Aristides (Onelcida) Ramirez . . . Yes, I realize he'll turn 36 in May, and baseball logic says there's a reasonable chance his .296-20-88 numbers from a season ago signify the beginning of the decline phase for one of the game's all-time great hitters . . . But Manny sure seems determined not to lose his mojo quite yet . . . He reported to camp in peak shape, and everyone who has seen him, from Peter Gammons (who picks him as the AL MVP) to Curt Schilling, says he will have a monster comeback season . . . Jason Varitek quietly had a quality offensive season - his .788 OPS ranked fourth among everyday catchers in the AL - and his importance to the team can be summed up in these four words: Kevin Cash, starting catcher (shudder) . . . A sophomore slump for Dustin Pedroia? Not according to Bill James, who projects .300-9-57 numbers for the real-life Tanner Boyle . . . How far as Kevin Youkilis come? In the 2002 Baseball America Prospect Handbook, he was ranked the 29th-best prospect in a thin Red Sox farm system, behind the likes of Seung Song (No. 1), Tony Blanco (2), and Rene Miniel (3). Gotta respect a self-made player, especially one who has become close to invaluable . . . In two seasons, Mike Lowell has gone from a salary dump in the Beckett/Hanley deal to an integral part of the ball club, on the field and off. Even if his numbers this season are closer to his '06 stats (.284-20-80) than his fat '07 numbers (.324-21-120), he'll be a bargain at his new price tag . . . For the first time since 1999, David Ortiz didn't improve upon his home run output of the previous season, dropping from 54 homers in '06 to 35 last year . . . Yet in many ways, it was his finest offensive season . . . His OPS+ of 171 was the highest of his career . . . He also set career highs in batting (.332), hits (182), walks (111), doubles (52), on-base percentage (.445), and OPS (1.066) . . . And continues to do it all with a smile . . . Please, please, please remind me never to take Big Papi - or this wonderful time in Red Sox history - for granted.

Breakthrough player: Lester. It just seems like everything is coming together. He's healthy, he's put on 15 pounds of muscle (which should increase his durability), he must be confident after coming through in the World Series clincher, and the opportunity is there to be seized. This is his time.

Honorable mention: Ellsbury. This is where I'd usually mention Brett Butler, but I'm starting to think the prince of Pink Hat Nation's uncommon work ethic is going to lead to him hitting with more power than his minor league numbers would indicate . . .Clay Buchholz. Yes, the No-Hit Kid has a had a fairly rough spring, but he's so supremely gifted and his secondary pitches are so polished that he'll be a consistent and often dazzling contributor before the calendar turns to July . . . Drew. Because he's too damn talented to be so mediocre again.

Breakdown player: Retroactively, we'll cop-out and go with Schilling, who apparently blew his shoulder out signing his new contract.

Dishonorable mention: Lowell. I couldn't have been more wrong about him last year. Might as well make a jackass of myself again, though you do have to wonder how much of his personally unprecedented success in the second half was due to a contract drive . . . Varitek. Well, he is 36.

Completely Random Bill James stat: Varitek was fifth in the AL in batting in close and late situations (.351).

Bonus stat: Ortiz led the league with .700 slugging percentage and a .470 OBP against righthanded pitchers, and his 1.153 OPS in the second half was also an AL best. (Okay, so that's three stats. Just emphasizing what a great year he really had.)

Bonus bonus stat: Dice-K led the AL in pitches per start (108.8) and tied A.J. Burnett for the most pitches in one game (130).

Triple bonus stat: Papelbon held opposing batters to a .146 average, tops among pitchers with 50 or more innings of work.

And what the hell, one more: Wakefield threw 2,194 pitches below 80 mph, far and away the most in the AL. Next on the list was Gagne bait Kason Gabbard, with 908.

. . . and finally, the prediction: 94 wins, 68 losses, 2d in AL East, AL wild card winner, and another suspenseful and very possibly joyous autumn. (Note from TATB management: For, oh, 10 years running, I picked the Sox to win the East. They didn't. Not once. I picked them second last year. You know how the story played out. I'm sticking to the formula that gets me what I want, people.)

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

As as I wrap this up, it's t-minus 4 hours and 17 minutes until game time. So tell me again: How do you say "Play ball!" in Japanese?

2008 Red

2008-03-24T16:01:00.006-04:00

Hello

(Update, 5:23 p.m.: Uh, yeah, hello. The actual post, with words and everything, that belongs here will be up at some point late tonight. Contrary to current perception, it will not be about one of Lionel Richie's many catchy hit singles, but a capsule look at your 2008 Boston Red Sox. In the meantime, while I'm retaking Blogger 101, you may converse amongst yourselves regarding my bleepin' stupidity. Thank you. -- TATB Dept. of Incompetent Blogging.)

(P.S. - I could blame this on my hellacious cold, but that would be just so Simmons of me. Also, my back hurts.)

Cornering the market

2008-03-21T01:20:00.008-04:00

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free throwaway lines for you . . .

1. Loved the Pats' signing of Fernando Bryant today, not only because he's a smart, proven veteran cornerback who's an upgrade on Randall Gay at the least, but also because he indirectly inspired probably the most heartfelt column I wrote in my time at the Monitor. He struck me as a great guy then, and I was glad to learn today that my initial perception was correct. And one more thing: This transaction convinced me beyond a doubt that the Patriots will not use the No. 7 pick to reach for one of the cornerbacks (McKelvin, Talib, Rogers-Cromartie) who are more qualified to go at the back end of the first round. You, me, and Mel Kiper's hairdresser really have no idea what they will do, but I suspect their priorities looks something like this: 1) Trade out of the spot, preferably for Dallas's two No. 1s. 2) Grab Vernon Gholston if he gets past the Jets at No. 6. 3) Take someone they like who no one is considering right now. (Well, except for Mike Reiss, who might be on to something with his educated speculation that they might covet Florida's Derrick Harvey.)

2. Either Glen Taylor doesn't know the definition of the word "tanked," or he's intent on battling James Dolan for the top spot in the NBA version of the Idiot Owner Power Rankings. And given that he oversees a franchise that lost five - 5! - first-round picks for trying to circumvent the salary cap in a shady free agent deal with Joe Smith, I'd say the latter is more likely. It's a damn disgrace that he'd ever question anything Kevin Garnett did for that mismanaged, undermanned franchise.

3. Three semi-sleepers I really like in fantasy baseball this season: 1) Phil Hughes, Yankees: He has to prove he can stay healthy, but every time I have seen him from Double A on up, he's looked like a future No. 1 starter, and that future is near. 2) Jeremy Hermida, Marlins: One of the best prospects in baseball two years ago, he lived up to his talent in the second half last season, hitting .340 with a .956 OPS. 3) Dustin McGowan, Blue Jays: Seven wins and a 3.67 ERA in the second half, he's a much smarter bet than A.J. Burnett to be the Jays' No. 2 starter.

4. In case you missed it, Joe Posnanski had a Q-and-A with Bill James recently on his blog, and it was just as entertaining and informative regarding baseball matters as you might expect. But my favorite part? This:

Q: In The Office*, were you happy or ultimately disappointed that Pam and Jim got together?

Bill: Relieved. They couldn’t have kept that going any longer; it would have fallen flat. If they hadn’t gotten together it would have ruined the show because it would have turned into a cliché.

*It just so happens that The Office is both of our favorite TV show. I was skeptical about The Office because Margo and I loved the original British Office so much. More than skeptical. The first year of The Office — which was a virtual frame by frame copy — was, I thought, awful because it was so derivative. But then the American Office found its voice and took off in my mind, because of the writing, because Steve Carrell’s so great, because of the secondary characters and because I believe it is humanly impossible not to fall in love with Pam.

I tend to agree with that last sentiment, as you probably suspected. And who would have thought Bill James liked "The Office"? I love it when my little obsessions collide like that.

5. Well, looks like we can pinpoint the first time Peter King verbally fondled Brett Favre. Seriously, the Sports Illustrated archives are going to be irresistible - I can see myself losing a couple hours there in the same way that I do on baseballreference.com - and I'm kind of amazed that they are making such a cool and valuable resource available for free.

6. Gotta figure if Sports Guy's wife ever reads one of the columns that he writes in her voice, she's going to be seriously annoyed at how vapid he makes her seem. (C'mon, the tone, the structure, the pop culture references . . . it's gotta be him, right?)

7. I'm as glad as anyone that Doug Mirabelli is gone - he's the .202-hitting personification of the arrogant jock stereotype, one of the few true jerks on the Sox - but I hope fans realize he's Johnny Bench at the plate compared to the salami bat who is replacing him. Kevin Cash is a fine defensive catcher, but he's not only a inept hitter, he's historically inept. In 359 career at-bats, he has a .167 batting average (45 points higher than the average of the pitcher he'll be catching) and a .488 OPS. Watching him attempt to hit every fifth day is going to get old fast.

8. I'm not a Bobby Knight fan - he was a brilliant coach, sure, but he's also nearly as accomplished as a bully and a hypocrite - but I have to admit, watching him break down the tournament with his no-nonsense style on ESPN has been compelling TV, and I give him bonus points for picking fourth-seeded Pitt to win it all when, from what I saw, the likes of Digger Phelps and Jay Bilas took the easy way out and sucked up to the top seeds and usual suspects. (Which reminds me . . . god, I wish Duke lost to Belmont.)

9. I had the sound on the TV down for much of the Celtics game tonight, so I have to ask: Did Reggie Miller mention anything in regard to how close he came to taking up Danny Ainge on his preseason offer join the green? While the everyone obviously has to be content with the way things worked out - especially since Eddie House has mostly been outstanding as the designated bomber -I am curious if he has any regrets now that the Celtics are exceeding even the wildest expectations.

10. As for today's Completely Random Basketball Card:

Didn't realize the former Celtic - and one of few players Red Auerbach misjudged - was one of Avery Johnson's henchmen until I noticed him on the Dallas bench tonight.

* * *

Couple of quick programming notes: 1) The long-promised Celts column should be posted sometime early next week. I'm absolutely giddy at how legitimately great this team is - after sweeping the "Texas Triangle," as Sean Grande calls it, no one can deny that they are THE favorite to win it all. And they're as fun and likable as they are good. I'm at the point where I'm bummed when they have a day off. I wish they played every day.

I'm also planning on writing division-by-division baseball preview caps in the same format as a last year, though those probably won't all be completed until the season is underway. I'll aim to crank out the Sox capsule Monday.

Finally, if you didn't notice the link on the righthand column, we're now on Facebook, so stop by and say hi. TATB could always use a few friends.

Until later . . . sayonara from TATB's favorite goodwill ambassador:

Shining moments

2008-03-15T21:12:00.008-04:00

As we begin our annual descent into Madness, we give you a completely self-indulgent look at TATB's all-time favorite college hoops players . . .

Benny Anders, Houston: One of the most mysterious characters in recent college basketball history, his legend grows by the year. Anders (No. 32 in the picture) played with Akeem Olajuwon and Clyde Drexler on the skywalking 1983 University of Houston Phi Slamma Jamma team that beat Louisville in a dunkfest in the Final Four before falling to N.C. State in the final, and by all accounts he more than held his own with his future superstar teammates. Said former Houston guard Reid Gettys: "Clyde will concede Benny tore him up in one-on-ones. Now, Clyde won't concede Michael Jordan tore him up, but he concedes Benny would get him." While Drexler went on to become one of the NBA Top 50 players of all time, Anders's talent went unfulfilled, by all accounts due to a lack of self-discipline. He didn't last at Houston, never played in the NBA, and, sadly, hasn't been heard from in years. But no one forgets him.

Kenny Anderson, Georgia Tech: It's hard to believe the lethargic, seen-it-all NBA veteran who passed his time front-rimming 15-foot jumpers for the Celtics a few seasons ago was the same dynamic player who in 1990 earned justified comparisons to Tiny Archibald while leading Georgia Tech to the Final Four. But Anderson really was something to behold in his youth, a super-quick lefty slasher with rare creativity as a passer and finisher. Though he averaged over 25 ppg as a sophomore and played 15 years in the NBA, it's not unfair to say he peaked as player as a freshman, when he joined long-range gunner Dennis Scott and versatile Brian Oliver to form "Lethal Weapon 3," one of the most fun and memorable trios in college hoops history. If you saw him in college, you can't help but wonder what happened along the way to sap his joy for the game.

Danny Manning, Kansas: Manning carried the Jayhawks to the '88 title, and "carried" is the appropriate word there - his most notable teammates were Milt Newton, Kevin Pritchard, and Scooter Barry, whose claim to fame is being the least gifted of Rick Barry's hoop-playing spawn. In the title game against Oklahoma, Manning posted this hop-on-my-back-fellas stat line: 31 points, 18 rebounds, 5 steals, and 2 blocked shots. For a player of such immense talents - he scored over 2,500 points in his four seasons - he also had unusual amounts of intelligence and savvy to his game, little baby hooks and touch passes and clever moves in the post. I'm not convinced he would have been a bona fide superstar in the NBA had he not blown his knee out 26 games into his rookie season with the Clippers - he was never that quick in the first place - but he would have been a hell of a second banana on an outstanding team.

Carmelo Anthony, Syracuse: Even in his one year of college ball, his game was a polished blend of Hip-Hop and Old School (I'm a sucker for that midrange rainbow jumper), and his easy charisma has always been off the charts. Solely because of him, I picked Syracuse to win it all in '03 - the only time I've had the last team standing as far as I can remember. If that's not a good reason to include him here, I don't know what is.

Chris Jackson, LSU: One of my laments as a sports fan is that I was born too late to see Pistol Pete Maravich play at LSU. For someone of my generation, watching Jackson, who averaged 30.2 ppg his freshman year (1988-89) for the Tigers, was as close as we'll come. He had seemingly limitless range, only a hint of a conscience, a dancer's balance (he always seemed to shoot on the move), and a handle that would wow even the AND1 crowd. If ESPN Classic hadn't tragically and inexplicably been converted to the Bowling/Poker Who-Gives-A-Bleep Channel in recent years, I'd like to think random games from Jackson's freshman year is the kind of stuff they'd be showing.

HONORABLE MENTION
Chris Mullin, St. John's: Remember when St. John's-Georgetown was an Event, Capital E? No? Well, I bet Walter Berry does.

Wally Szczerbiak, Miami (Ohio): Loved his 43-point performance against Washington during the RedHawks' run to the Sweet 16 in the '99 tourney. Couldn't stand him as a limping chucker for the Celtics.

David Robinson, Navy: Couldn't help but laugh at Red Auerbach's quote in this clip: "He's got a lot to learn . . . but not that much." In other words: The kid's unreal, but I don't want anyone knowing I think that. Classic Red.

Bo Kimble, Loyola-Marymount The lefthanded free throw still gets me.

Glen Rice, Michigan: His range extended to Kalamazoo.

John "Hot Plate" Williams, LSU: One of the great obese players of all time. How's that for a backhanded compliment?

Toby Bailey, UCLA: Ah, hell, I'll admit it: I bought the Next Big Thing hype. Should have known better than to fall for a 6-foot-3-inch guard who couldn't shoot.

(I'll add more as I think of them today. Feel free to add yours in the comments . . . )

Changes in latitudes

2008-03-14T01:27:00.012-04:00

Just a quick note to tell confirm something you might already know, and possibly may even give a damn about (or not):

By Opening Day, TATB will be moving over to Boston.com permanently, and the Blogspot version you see here will exist only as an archive. Yup, the little website is going all corporate on you. I'm fairly sure I even get to hire a cute secretary and a couple of Smithers-like yes-men. Remind me to get my agent to look into that.

(I'll pause a moment here to let my Original 6 readers howl "Sellout!" in unison.)

(Pause.)

(Is that good? You guys done? You too, mom? Okay, good. Let's move on.)

Yeah, so . . . Boston.com it is. We agreed to a formal deal a few weeks ago, and as you might expect, I'm psyched. The increased readership and an actual paycheck for pecking out this nonsense are the obvious benefits. And I'm absolutely thrilled to have a chance to be a semi-prominent voice on what amounts to the electronic wing of the Globe. In terms of prestige, I realize of course that this puny blog is not even in the same ballpark as, say, being a featured writer in the actual printed sports section. But this is as close as I'll ever come to fulfilling that boyhood dream, and you can be damn sure I'm going to make the most of the opportunity.

It's funny, when I started this thing in December, 2004, I never would have considered this as a real possibility; I had no conscious aspirations to turn this into something bigger or profitable, none at all. I just wanted to write, man. I love my desk job at the Globe, I truly do, but as I've said here many times before, after so many years of cranking out columns about the Sox when I was in New Hampshire, it crushed me not to have a venue and a voice when the they finally won the World Series. Three-and-a-half years, roughly 1.3 million visitors, and another World Series title later, and that's still my mentality. I just want to write, man.

I am glad to report that not much is changing in the transition. I mean, yeah, it will look different - it'll be on the Boston.com template and will be cleaner and better organized and such - but the tone and content will remain the same. I'll still feature the Completely Random Baseball card and the Nine Innings column, live blogs and all the other staples you've come to, uh, tolerate. (Thought "love" was too strong of a word there, yes?) Even Rodney Craig, Ombudsman, is coming along. I'll still apologize for Manny, unabashedly admire KG, aim every cheap shot my tiny brain can conceive at Slappy McBluelips and Capt. Derek J. Intangibles, and pine for Jenna Fischer in an awkward and possibly law-violating way. I'll still be me, suckers. For some inexplicable reason they seem to want that. I'm as stumped as you are.

I suppose there's one thing that might change, but I desperately hope it doesn't - that's the quality of the commenters. One of the surprising joys for me is popping into the comments the morning after I post something and reading what you guys have to say. Sometimes your response is positive, and sometimes you tell me in so many words to go do something that from what I can tell is anatomically impossible. But your take is almost always well-articulated and reasonable, and often makes more sense than what I wrote. (Frankly, it pisses me off when that happens. Knock it off, smart guys.)

Seriously, what I'm saying, in my usual roundabout way, is that I hope all of you - and you know who you are - will follow me to the new address. As happy as I am to be doing this, it would not be as rewarding without you.

So that's that. I'm signing off for the night now. I look forward to seeing you in the comments in the morning. But I hope you already knew that.

Chad

Get back

2008-03-12T00:49:00.008-04:00

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free throwaway lines for you . . .

1. Worried about Josh Beckett? Eh, I'd call it mild concern at this point; I'd be more bothered if he had a blister. While back problems for a pitcher obviously can cause bigger problems down the road if it affects his mechanics, it sounds like this strain or pull or whatever it is will cease to be an issue with proper rest and treatment. The Sox, unsurprisingly, are being appropriately cautious with their ace. It's a long season, and they can survive without him in the short term. Maybe it's even a blessing that he misses the ridiculous trip to Japan; we wouldn't want him suffering a debilitating season-long case of Mike Mussina Jet Lag, now would we?

2. Thrilled to read that "Friday Night Lights" has, against long odds, been renewed for a third season. I've been banging through the DVD of the first season, and it has to be among the best written and acted dramas on TV. I appreciate that the writers rarely cop out with a neat, tidy, ending to an episode; even the most likable characters are complex and flawed, and the result is a rare authenticity. It's criminal that Kyle Chandler, who is spot-on as gruff, good-hearted Coach Taylor, hasn't even been nominated for an Emmy, let alone won one. And Tim Riggins is fast becoming one of my favorite TV characters of recent memory. He's hilarious, in a brooding, greasy-haired sort of way. It's not quite at the level of "The Office," in my personal TV ratings, but it's getting close.

3. All right, what the hell, might as well say it: I honestly believe the Celtics will - will - win No. 17 this season. I promise to write a longer column on this when time permits, but I just wanted to get it out there now, because I am completely convinced that they are the best team - and that's the key word, team - in the league this season. They are an absolute joy to watch at both ends of the floor, there seems to be uncommon camaraderie among the players, they just added one of the finest big-game players of his generation as a willing role player, and the kids seem to improve on a nightly basis. Detroit can't keep up with them, and I don't think the survivor of the West bloodbath will, either. It might be the most fun I've had watching this team in, oh, 22 years. Can we just skip ahead to the playoffs already?

4. My hypothetical NBA MVP ballot: 1) LeBron James (I am scared to death of the Celtics having to deal with him in the playoffs, though I remind myself that two of his key teammates are the fossilized Wally Szczerbiak and Delonte West . . . which makes all that he has accomplished all the more impressive. 2) KG (The national media seems to be overlooking him now, probably because the Celtics continued to win when he was hurt. But his importance, especially defensively and emotionally, cannot be overstated. Knew that, didn't you? 3) Kobe. (If the Celts don't make the finals, I'd love to see Cavs-Lakers, just to watch him and LeBron try to one-up each other.)

5. Gerald Green, upon being traded by the Timberwolves to his hometown Houston Rockets Feb. 21:

“It’s like a dream come true. Never in my life did I think this would happen. I am on cloud nine."

The Rockets cut him barely two weeks later. Maybe that will be the dose of reality Green needs, though I doubt it. While he has oodles of physical talent - players with his ups and photogenic jump shot are scarce - he hasn't improved at all in his three years in the league, which tells you that he either has no work ethic, or that his IQ, on the court and off, is in the sub-Tony Allen category. At this point, he might as well call himself a Dunk Contest Specialist. It's funny, I've been poring through my archives the past few days, and I was shocked by how often I praised Green's "potential" last season; I think most of us knew all along that the kid was too much of a knucklehead to make it, but we were so desparate for anything to root for that we convinced ourselves that his 10.4 ppg average for a truly atrocious basketball team constituted progress. Man, I'd really love to hear Doc Rivers's or Paul Pierce's candid assessment of the kid. I bet they have some stories, and I can't imagine they're surprised he now finds himself trolling for employment with the likes of the Yakima Sun Kings.

6. I'll admit I'm no expert like Mike Mayock, Mel Kiper Jr., or Larry Johnson, but the more I look at the way the upcoming NFL Draft appears to be falling, the more I hope the Patriots find some sucker to trade a handful of picks for that No. 7 spot. There are no cornerbacks or linebackers as far as I can tell that would justify being selected in that slot, assuming workout warrior Vernon Gholston goes to the Jets at No. 6. If all the stars are aligned, maybe Jerry Jones will trade his two No. 1s - the 22d and 28th picks - along with, say, a fifth-rounder, and the Pats can get a couple of pieces they need (Keith Rivers? Dominique Rogers-Cromartie?) at good value.

7. What does Matt Walsh have in his video collection? Well, like most guys in his early 30s, he probably has "GoodFellas," "Dazed and Confused," definitely owns the "Best of Jenna Jame". . . oh, you meant his other video collection? Right. Well, here's my best - and probably wishful - guess: a couple of tapes of opposing coaches' signals from the 2000-02 seasons. And that's it. If you consider the timeline here, Walsh first mentioned possessing material that would "embarrass" the Patriots after they got busted in the Jets game, but - and this is the key - before it was revealed that there were other tapes. The suspicion here is that Walsh knew there were other tapes, had a few of them as keepsakes, and was bummed when he realized he didn't have the bombshell he thought he did once the Patriots apparently came clean with Sheriff Goodell.

8. This sure seems like the season Manny Delcarmen makes the leap and becomes a dependable and perhaps even elite eighth-inning setup guy; he's in excellent shape and certainly has the stuff to succeed in a crucial role. But first I need to be sure that he's eliminated the Schiraldi-esque "holy crap, this is a huge moment" look from his repertoire before I'm officially convinced. He wasn't trustworthy in big spots in the postseason last year, and he still needs to prove he can handle the pressure that comes with a late-inning role.

9. Let's see . . . 11 of you, my dearest readers, sent me this link today (plus one posted in the comments), and while I suppose I'm flattered that you immediately think of me when a story's subjects include Jenna Fischer, a casting couch, and, um, a synonym for pee, I'm also somewhat concerned about my public perception. But not enough to prevent me from clicking the link all 11 times you sent it. Thanks, freaks.

10. As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

Because sometimes, it really is random.

Three-point stance

2008-03-04T23:39:00.015-05:00

A couple of quicky thoughts in between naps . . .

For the first time since Eli Manning got the ball back with 83 yards to go and 2:42 on the damn clock, I'm feeling good about the Patriots. Randy Moss returning obviously has a little something to do with that, and while I was bordering on full-scale panic as he hit the free-agent market, in retrospect you have to give kudos to both the Patriots' front office and Moss for how they handled the situation. The Patriots were careful not to offend the, um, "quirky" receiver, negotiating a long-term deal in good faith rather than franchising him. And Moss deserves praise for realizing he has a good thing going in New England and signing for less than he likely would have received on the open market. While Moss's return is of course the biggest and best news, we should also be encouraged by the small but potentially significant gains the Pats have made in free agency. Tank Williams is a particularly intriguing addition; he was a helmet-cracking demon for those perennially tough defenses Jeff Fisher puts together in Tennessee, but a fractured knee cap halted his ascension to stardom. He's only 27, he's smart (he's a Stanford grad), he played well in a reserve role in Minnesota last season, and the hunch here is that he'll be regarded as a steal next season. Jason Webster and Lewis Sanders are depth signings, positioned to replace the departed Randall Gay, whom you might remember as this year's recipient of the Tebucky Jones Award, given every few seasons to the so-so Patriots defensive back who is comically overpaid by the Saints. Should the Belichick/Pioli braintrust bring in a useful linebacker or two - Adam Seward? Takeo Spikes, perhaps? - you have to feel very good about the state of this team heading into the draft . . . where, by the way, we're hoping they take, oh, a trio of defensive backs and another four linebackers, just to be safe.

* * *

And somewhere (in Afghanistan, apparently), Peter King rips his Brett Favre Fathead off his bedroom wall and collapses into sobs. Seriously, we all knew the media fawning when the beloved Gritty Ol' Gunslinger Who Just Loves To Play He's Like A Kid Out There finally hung 'em up would fall somewhere between saccharine and insufferable. But that doesn't make the over-the-top coverage from the past few days any easier to endure. And I like Favre. He was fun as hell to watch, seems like a genuinely decent guy (though there surely is some calculation behind the lucrative aw-shucks persona), and the NFL is a little less interesting without him. But c'mon now . . . he was not a "national treasure," as one heartbroken ESPN hairdo called him this morning, to solemn nods from his mourning nitwit peers. What was he? In truth, this: An extremely gifted passer who often took his physical talents for granted, played recklessly right down to the bitter-cold end against the Giants, yet rarely got called out on his flaws because A) his ability and charisma were often enough to win the day, and B) he was accommodating and savvy enough to return the right phone calls and fill the right notebooks. Oh, and mark these words: He may not play another down in the NFL, but I guarantee there will be well-placed rumors next season that he would at least consider coming out of retirement in "the right situation." I once wrote these words about Roger Clemens: "If anyone has an ill-fated comeback in him, it's Rocket, the Human Ego Trip." That was, I believe, three retirements and one Congressional hearing ago for the future Leavenworth ace. The same goes for Favre, just you wait and see. He'll realize that bucolic Kiln, Miss., (cue the banjo) isn't all it's cracked up to be, especially when Peter King and the rest aren't quite ready to quit you . . . and vice versa.

* * *

My favorite moment of the Celtics' season so far, and probably their defining moment as well: Rajon Rondo's fearless posterization of Jason Maxiell Wednesday night. I'm not a big YouTube guy - I tend to skip over clips when I see them posted other blogs - but I want to put this here just so I can watch it whenever I feel like it. (Watching him blow past Richard "Phantom of the Opera" Hamilton is almost as cool as the dunk itself.) Rondo blossoming into a tough, increasingly reliable and breathtakingly athletic point guard has been one of the many great joys of watching this team.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

I imagine all the "he really should work for the Yankees" jokes are taken by now, right? Then I've got nothin'.

Me, myself, and I

2008-03-02T02:56:00.023-05:00

Inspired by my wife's friend Heather's list (and with an assist from my own massive ego) here are 50 Things About Me . . .

1. Butch Hobson, who never saw a bat rack he couldn't crash into, was my favorite Sox player as a kid. My favorite player today is Manny Ramirez, who's the anti-Butch in terms of how he plays the game.

2. Eighteen years after we met at Gannett Hall at dear old UMaine, I still don't understand how I duped my wife into going out with me, let alone marrying me. And the Jenna Fischer comparison a mysterious commenter made a few posts ago? Well, hey, no argument here.

3. My two biggest fears are something happening to my wife and kids, and me failing them.

4. I used to think that had I been blessed with foresight and a trust fund I could have had the career of Bill Simmons. But I've come to realize that he deserves more credit for his talent and remarkable success than he often gets from us bitter Internet hacks. I'd destroy him on the basketball court, however, and I'd enjoy doing it.

5. I ran a 5:20 mile in high school. Nowadays it would take me twice that long . . . on a bike.

6. Five years ago, I could bench-press over 300 pounds. Nowadays I heave up 135 and can't lift my arms above my head for a week.

7. If I could have my kids' picture taken with anyone on the planet, I'd choose David Ortiz.

8. My cat, named after Otis Nixon, is 15. When he goes to the Great Kitty Carrier in the Sky, I'll be sadder than my children will.

9. I haven't played an organized baseball game in 21 years. I still miss it dearly.

10. I once hit 3-pointers on five consecutive possessions in a men's league basketball game to turn a nine-point deficit into a six-point lead (or vice versa), scored 38 points in another game, hit nine 3-pointers in another.

11. Yet my greatest basketball accomplishment is pouring in roughly 2.7 points per game for the 1987-88 Class A state champion Morse Shipbuilders. Just win, baby.

12. Twenty years ago, I played hoops against Celtic-to-be Sam Cassell. He was just as handsome then.

13. I get offended when old friends don't make as much of an effort to keep in touch as I do.

14. I wish I was sipping a coconut-flavored beverage at the Frangipani in Bequia right now.

15. I've been around athletes my whole life. But the toughest, most resilient person I've ever known is my mom.

16. The first record album I ever bought was Michael Jackson's "Off the Wall" when I was in fifth grade. The first 45 (I refuse to explain what that is, children) was John Lennon's "Just Like Starting Over." I'll argue that both were fine choices given the era.

17. When people first meet me they tend to think I'm quiet and shy; it's later on that they realize I'm primarily a vulgar smart-ass.

18. My best friend from my freshman year of college died of a brain aneurysm 12 years ago while jogging. He encouraged me to pursue sports writing when I wasn't sure I had the talent or the dedication. I keep his picture in the top drawer of the desk in my home office, and I still think about him often.

19. I refuse to read newspaper stories about people being cruel and abusive to children. I can't comprehend it, and it breaks my heart to hear about it.

20. In the past few years, to my surprise, country has become my favorite musical genre. I think it's because it's gradually losing the hillbilly twang and moving toward the mainstream. Or maybe just because in my old age I'm getting sentimental, and country is nothing if not that.

21. While I find the whole bleepfaced Parrothead thing a little much in an amusing sort of way, I'm a loyal Jimmy Buffett fan and will never grow tired of "A Pirate Looks at 40" or "Trying to Reason With Hurricane Season," among about 40-50 other songs. Got a beach bum's soul, I guess.

22. I can't help but like Kenny Chesney, too, even though he's blatantly dipping his toes in Buffett's Caribbean surf and looks like a hairless cat.

23. When I talk to my dad, the conversation always turns toward baseball, just as it did when I was 8. There's something reassuring in that.

24. The summer before seventh grade, I nearly drowned in the Kennebec River. Also that summer, I fell off my bike pedaling at full speed, tore up my forehead, elbow, and shoulder, and had to go to hospital for iodine treatments every other day. And I got chicken pox. Nope, not the best summer I ever had.

25. When I was in fourth grade, I got busted sneaking off school grounds at lunch to go to Lincoln Street Market and buy a hot dog and a couple of packs of baseball cards. (Why? Because hot lunch in 1980 sucked, that's why. A kid could only take so much Shepherd's Pie and tinfoil-wrapped pizza.) Instead of confessing, I went with the "it must have been another kid that looks like me" defense, and when that Rusty Hardin-caliber argument naturally failed, I lied and said I had the okay from my parents to do it. My masterstroke: A forged permission slip in broken cursive saying something like, "My sun Chad has permishun to by hot dogs at lunch so you can leave him alone now so he can go by hotdogs at lunch. And baseball cards also. Thanks, Mrs. Finn." Needless to say, my scam soon ended with a tearful confession in the principal's office.

26. I'd rather sing like Sinatra than play left field for the Red Sox. Maybe.

27. I love living in Maine, yet absolutely despise the winter. I'd just as soon stay on the couch until the thermometer tells me it's 75 degrees outside.

28. I haven't been to church in 20 or so years, yet I say a prayer of thanks every night.

29. In college, I saw Jerry Seinfeld and Adam Sandler do standup, before they were both superfamous and filthy rich. Seinfeld was more polished (he rattled off about 10 one-liners when a bat suddenly flew on the stage), but Sandler was more fun.

30. My happiest moment as a Boston sports fan: the immediate aftermath of Ruben Sierra grounding out to Pokey Reese. The World Series was the icing.

31. Saddest: Finding out about Len Bias's death on the last day of school in 1986.

32. A couple of times per summer, I drive over to the dilapidated old Maine Guides ballpark, just to remember when.

33. I'm useless when it comes to working with tools. Come to think of it, my wife probably would say I am a useless tool.

34. I have no discernible talents other than throwing a nasty Wiffle Ball screwball, yet when I was young I always figured I'd someday be famous for something. Doesn't everyone?

35. I have a ridiculously accurate memory for names, faces, and details, but can't remember where I put my car keys and wallet.

36. Regrets, I have very few. One: I wished I'd lived in California for a year or two like my younger sister did. I've never lived outside of New England.

37. My hair started going gray in my mid-20s, and I'm well-acquainted with Just For Men. The damn stuff is like Ash Brown battery acid.

38. Concord, N.H. seemed like the drowsiest place on earth in the nine years I lived there - I think last call was at 8:30 p.m. - but it feels like home when I go back, more so than my real hometown, Bath, Maine.

39. I haven't eaten a hot dog in at least 20 years, and I haven't eaten at McDonald's in at least 15.

40. Being a dad is more exhausting and fulfilling than I ever imagined. What they say is true: You cannot possibly understand it until you experience it.

41. My real name is Charles, and a lot of my buddies call me Charlie, which is my old man's name. I don't mind.

42. My entrance music would be "You Could Be Mine" by Guns 'n' Roses.

43. My first semester of college, I pulled a 0.9375 GPA. That did not make the Dean's List.

44. The one CD that has never grown even temporarily tiresome: "White Ladder," David Gray. It's the unofficial soundtrack for the last 10 years of my life.

45. I know it's a cliche for a dude my age, but I can't deny it: my all-time favorite movie is "Swingers." "Boogie Nights," "Office Space," and "Almost Famous" are among my other personal Best Picture nominees.

46. During a summer when I was around 15 or 16, I had a staph infection that caused a couple of layers of skin on my face to blister and peel off. Despite my frequent public cries that I was not an animal but a human being, people still looked at me like I was the Elephant Man.

47. First concert I ever saw: Billy Joel, January 1984, Cumberland County Civic Center. Second concert: Duran Duran, a few months later. I'm fairly certain me and my buddy who roped me into going were the only guys there, including the members of the band.

48. When I was in sixth grade, my doctor told me I was going to grow to be 6-foot-6, minimum. I'm 6-3 and still waiting for that last growth spurt the stupid quack promised me.

49. I often say the most fun I had in my life was my sophomore year of college . . . which kind of annoys my wife, since we met my junior year.

50. I consider starting this blog one of the smartest things I've ever done, though I'm starting to think this post might be one of the dumbest.

Sam I am

2008-02-28T00:05:00.012-05:00

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free throwaway lines for you . . .

1. Two quick thoughts about the Celtics while I worry that someone (Denver? Dallas>) will ruin the master plan by snatching up Sam Cassell on waivers:

• Call it the luck of the Irish, I suppose, but how fortunate are the Celtics that the two pieces they most need to pursue a championship - a veteran big man who can rebound and play D, and a veteran guard to run the offense and knock down a big jumper or two - are both available as free agents with 25 or so games remaining in the season?

• I'm actually more excited about getting Brown than Cassell, if only because Kendrick Perkins has been extra sluggish lately (one rebound against Cleveland the other night). If Perk isn't rebounding and hustling on defense, there's really no reason for him to be on the floor. Truth be told, I'd rather see undersized but remarkably efficient Leon Powe out there over him in most situations.

2. By the way, remind me to cross Marty Burns of CNNsi.com off my reading list. Here's what he wrote recently about the possibility of Antoine Walker getting bought out by the Timberwolves:

If Minnesota did buy out Walker, and he cleared waivers, he would be free to sign with any team (he must be waived by March 1 to be eligible to play for another team in the postseason). The Celtics, Rockets, Warriors and Nuggets are among the clubs that might be interested in his services.

Now, I'm not questioning Mr. Burns's credentials or credibility, and he did couch his suggestion with the word "might," but let's put it this way: There's a better chance Danny Ainge names himself and Doc Rivers the starting backcourt than there is of him even considering adding Hurricane 'Toine to this team.

3. Sure, you mock Tony La Russa and his mighty big brain right now after hearing about his latest look-how-smart-I-am scheme, but let's hear what you have to say when Matt Clement and Joel Pineiro combine to bat .320 with 102 RBIs from the No. 8 hole this season.

4. Can't help but have kind of a what-might-have-been vibe to Rosevelt Colvin's departure from the Pats. He ended up being a steady and dependable player during his five seasons here - don't tell me you haven't wondered if he might have made a difference against the Giants - but it's fair to say he was never again the dynamic speed rusher he was in Chicago after suffering that devastating hip injury in Week 2 of the '03 season. It's to his credit that he somewhat reinvented himself after that injury, becoming a better all-around defender. He was a fine player and seemed like a class act, and I wish him well.

5. Really curious what motivated Jose Canseco, baseball's Typhoid Mary of steroids, to testify under oath that Roger Clemens wasn't at his infamous pool party. It's possible that Canseco's chicken nugget of a brain doesn't have enough storage space left to retain 10-year-old memories. But given that Canseco reportedly is hard up for cash (ask Magglio Ordonez), one can't help but wonder if there's some sort of devious deal at play here. I wouldn't put such a thing past either one of them.

6. I get the sense Joe Maddon wants the Rays to take a chance on Barry Bonds, and why not? Provided he's still taking the right mix of vitamins, the swollen tick of a slugger still has enough left to anchor a Tampa Bay lineup that has a chance to be one of the best in the AL. Besides, after dealing with the clinically insane Elijah Dukes and raging jerk Delmon Young last season, Maddon is well-equipped to deal with Bonds's unique brand of narcissism.

7. Maybe Eagles superfan Arlen Spector can explain it to me, but I don't quite understand why Philadelphia thinks Asante Samuel is a huge upgrade over Lito Sheppard, especially when you factor in the ridiculously fat contract Samuel is going to command. I like Samuel a lot and appreciate that he's been a key to the Patriots defense the past few seasons, but he's not a quote-unquote "shutdown corner." He's smart, reads quarterbacks well, gambles a lot, has excellent hands (with one $(%*#$ exception), and makes more big plays than he allows. But all things considered, he's not that much better than Sheppard, a two-time Pro Bowler, and if the Patriots somehow end up with him as Samuel's replacement, I'll consider it a very shrewd tradeoff by Patriots management.

8. It always make me feel a little older when a player I've enjoyed and appreciated for so many years calls it a career, so in that sense I'm glad Tedy Bruschi is returning to the Patriots; it really wouldn't be quite the same without ol' No. 54 around. That said, here's hoping his role is reduced next season - greatly. Bruschi has obviously lost a step or two the past few seasons - to be honest, it looked to me like Junior Seau has more gas left in the tank - and it is imperative that some how, some way, the Patriots get younger at linebacker next season. I'm glad Bruschi is still here. I just hope they're not heavily relying on him.

9. We know all about Manny's eight-digit salary, but who knew he has a pair of six-digit feet?

10. As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

Nope, no relation to Manny.

Center of attention

2008-02-26T07:58:00.007-05:00

Catching up on the news from Camp Tranquility (better known to much of the media as Camp Ohhowwewishformelodrama) . . .

Coco Crisp says he'd rather start elsewhere than be a backup in Boston: Can't say I blame him, can you? He's in the heart of what should be his prime at 28, he's coming off the best defensive season a Red Sox center fielder has had in who knows how long, and has proven he can be a valuable contributor to a winning ball club even when he struggles at the plate. He is completely justified in wanting to play, and the suspicion is that he will be accommodated before the Sox head north . . . er, make that to the Far East. And I think that is a mistake. Crisp will not be divisive force here (let's stop the comparison to the reprehensible Jay Payton now), he's one injury to Manny or J.D. Drew from playing just about every day, and the argument can be made that he's still the best center field option on the roster, at least at the moment.

In praising Crisp, the intent is not to make a case against Ellsbury, to suggest he's some combination of Ted Cox and Dave Stapleton, a rookie tease destined to fail. The job will be his soon enough, and it may still be his a decade from now. I happen to believe Ellsbury will become a borderline star, play in an All-Star game or two, ultimately enjoy a Brett Butler-type career. But his star turn in October has already made him an idol here, particularly among the Pink Hats and Men's Vogue readers, and while the Bill James Handbook (somewhat more credible on baseball matters than Vogue) projects him to hit .320 with an .810 OPS and 42 steals, I'm not quite convinced he's ready for center stage. His minor league slugging percentage (.425) is only slightly higher than Crisp's as a big leaguer (.409), and it appeared to these untrained eyes that the book was out on Ellsbury last September: get two strikes on him and he'll hack at anything. The Rockies evidently didn't have a copy of said book, but it's cause for at least mild concern. The kid still has some adjustments to make.

Again, my point here is that it's not necessary for this to be an either/or deal. I like both players a lot, and the Sox are a better team with both players. And until Ellsbury proves beyond a doubt that he can lay off a low, inside breaking ball and make the center field job his own - or at least until the Sox get a more than fair offer for Crisp - the status quo is the way to go.

Terry Francona signs a three-year contract extension with club options through the 2013 season: I think we've made it clear how we here at TATB feel about Tito: He's far and away the best manager the Red Sox have had in the 30 years we've been watching, and there's no current manager we'd rather have running this team. He's the right man at the right moment with the right team, and we were incredibly . . . well, relieved to realize that the Red Sox front office appreciates him as much as we do. Francona is the rare manager who is adept at both game management and people management. Part of what makes him so effective in relating to the personalities in his remarkably diverse clubhouse is that he has seen baseball from so many perspectives: he's been a phenom (he and some Ripken kid were the hot shot rookies of '82), a journeyman (after injuries sapped his talent), a minor-league manager, a big-league coach, and front office assistant (for Mark Shapiro in Cleveland). It's almost as if everything in his career - including his failed managerial stint in Philadelphia - was preparation for his present job, and he makes the absolute most out of all the knowledge he has gathered along the way. The Red Sox are fortunate to have him.

Former AL Cy Young Award winner Bartolo Colon agrees to a minor-league contract: As long as they're not paying him in Ring Dings and (delicious) Yodels, I can't see a downside to this. Colon, who at age 34 (he turns 35 in May) is just three years removed from a 21-8, 3.48 season, is exactly the kind of low-risk, high-reward chance the Red Sox can - and should - take. Sure, he's got a lot of miles on his surgically repaired right shoulder, and there's a chance he arrives at camp looking like he swallowed Curt Schilling in two bites. But there's also a decent chance he gives the Sox the 120-150 innings they were expecting Schilling to eat (ahem) at the back of the rotation. Better yet, his arrival means he's reunited with two of his best buddies from his baseball youth in Cleveland, Manny Ramirez and Julian Tavarez, and the potential for comedy there is endless. Come to think of it, NESN really ought to give those three goofy amigos their own show.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

Mike Greenwell, Mo Vaughn, and Bill Lee in the same year? The Red Sox Hall of Fame banquet just got a whole lot more fun . . . and the after-party should really be something.

And don't forget George Foster

2008-02-20T01:09:00.010-05:00

Back by, well, almost no demand, it's Random Lists of Five . . .

Five alleged contenders that won't win the NBA title this season:
1. Dallas. Kidd has slipped, especially defensively. They'll regret giving up Devin Harris for him in the long run.
2. Phoenix. I hope the Shaq gamble works, and he looks like he's in decent shape, but I just don't believe he can make a difference as a rebounder and defender after so many years of indifference.
3. San Antonio. They remind me of the Patriots team that lost to Indy a year ago. Still smart and proud, but just not quick enough anymore.
4. Cleveland. Though I do not want the Celtics to have to face Team LeBron.
5. Detroit. The Flip Saunders factor.

Five name players I wouldn't touch In fantasy baseball this season with Bea Arthur's ----:
1. Albert Pujols. Tough to hit with one decent elbow. Anyone who takes him in the first round will have a season's worth of regret.
2. Andy Pettitte. If his elbow acts up again, it's fair to assume the elixir this time won't be HGH.
3. Derek Jeter. He'll be 34 in June. Our long national nightmare is almost over.
4. Scott Rolen. He's as physically cooked as Trot Nixon.
5. Miguel Tejada. Think the dolts in the Astros' front office have heard about the Mitchell Report yet?

Five recent players you forgot played for the Celtics:
1. Jamel Thomas. Sebastin Telfair's half-brother, played three games for the '99-'00 squad.
2. Bruno Sundov. A poor man's Stojko Vrankovic.
3. Bryant Stith. A smaller version of Ryan Gomes, I always liked him, though the end was near by the time he arrived in Boston.
4. Chris Carr.
5. Ruben Wolkowyski. Yeah, I have no recollection, either.

Five receivers who caught a pass for the Super Bowl XXXVI champs (and we don't mean the Rams, William Gary, whoever the hell you are):
1. Charles Johnson
2. Fast Freddie Coleman, scourge of the Jets.
3. Torrance Small
4. Bert Emanuel
5. Curtis Jackson. (Not to be confused with him.)

Five primary personnel needs for the Patriots this offseason:
1. One or two young inside linebackers. I suppose 34-year-old Zach Thomas qualifies by current standards
2. One or two cornerbacks, minimum, depending upon whether they resign Asante Samuel or Randall Gay. Count me in for a Ty Law sequel.
3. A quality backup QB, just in case the unthinkable happens. They've pushed their luck with Matt Cassel long enough.
4. Defensive speed, anywhere. Perhaps another young safety to go with Stonehands Meriweather.
5. Some kicking competition for Gostkowski. Belichick seems to have lost faith in him.

Five 1985 New York Mets:
1. Billy Beane
2. Calvin Schiraldi
3. Clint Hurdle
4. Joe Sambito
5. Larry Bowa

Last five songs to pop up on the iPod as I write this:
1. Elevation, U2. Nothing wrong there.
2. Sick of Myself, Matthew Sweet. Underrated '90s alt rocker.
3. Come Monday, Jimmy Buffett. Even those who loathe Parrotheads have to respect this song, Buffett's first hit.
4. Mama Said Knock You Out, L.L. Cool J. And to think I snickered at Simmons for his ridiculous Mt. Rapmore earlier this week. Of course, the Choate Sports Guy pontificating on hip-hop makes about as much sense as Tupac returning from the dead to tell us about his favorite elitist New England prep schools.
5. High Enough, Damn Yankees. Well, almost made it through without humiliating myself.

Five baseball players I wish I'd seen play:
1a. Jackie Robinson
1b. Roberto Clemente
3. Ted Williams
4. Satchel Paige
5. Lyman Bostock

And five for football:
1. Gale Sayers. The NFL Films footage of his best kick returns is mesmerizing.
2. Jim Brown. I'm not sure if his friendship with Belichick is a good thing or a bad thing in terms of the coach's image.
3. Dick Butkus. Rumor is the Pats are bringing him in for a look-see early next week.
4. Lance Alworth. Can you imagine any football player tolerating a nickname like Bambi today?
5. Darryl Stingley. His tragic injury happened in the preseason the year I became a fan.

Five hottest women on television according to a semi-neutered, couch-bound, 38-year-old father of two: (Subtitle: Yep, another weak excuse to run a picture of the Official Muse of TATB, Non-Wife Division):
1. Sweet Jenna. I miss The Office almost as much as I wish Peter King would stop mentioning The Office.
2. Connie Britton, Tammy on "Friday Night Lights," the best show on television no one's watching.
3. The babe in the Mercury commercials.
4. Tyra on "Friday Night Lights" (Though the consensus seems to be that the brunette is hotter.)
5. Cheryl Ladd. I'm talking "Charlie's Angels" reruns, not the insipid "Las Vegas," though she still looks great.

Five sports media-types I hope get hit with a meteor:
1. Merril Hoge. A moron's moron.
2. Peter King-Favre. Keeps saying we need to know the truth about SpyGate, but won't get off his creme horn-filled --- to search it out himself.
3. Gregg Easterbrook. Despises the Pats with an odd irrationality. Doesn't even try to hide it anymore.
4. The WEEI morning show. A 3-for-1 deal. And send a few extra asteroids Meterparel's way.
5. Merril Hoge again, just in case the first meteor gave him only a concussion.

Nine innings: 02.18.08

2008-02-14T17:46:00.016-05:00

Playing nine innings while waiting for Derek Jeter to have his Gold Gloves revoked . . .

1. I believed this before reading Gordon Edes's outstanding front-page feature the other day, but now I'm convinced more than ever: Jon Lester is going to make a significant breakthrough this season. I'm thinking 15 wins and an ERA right around 4.00, and I'm trying to be cautious. It's not easy, though. John Farrell adores him, which counts for a lot in my eyes, and the most recent picture I have of Lester in my mind was his spot-on imitation of a vintage Bruce Hurst in the World Series clincher. I honestly don't think I'm going overboard here when I say he day will come - and soon - when we're glad the Sox refused to part with him for Johan Santana.

2. Jorge Posada's defense of Roger Clemens, at the expense of a current teammate's testimony and in the face of all common sense, automatically makes me suspicious of just what methods the Yankees catcher used to post a career-best OPS+ of 154 last season in contract year at age 36. It's probably not fair and even a little irresponsible, I know, but I just can't comprehend why he'd take Clemens's worthless word over Pettitte's unless perhaps his misplaced sympathy was born from having something to hide himself.

3. Trivia question I plucked out of an AP story at work last night: In the last six seasons, Roy Oswalt leads the majors with 98 wins, and Roy Halladay is second with 93. Who's third, with 92? Hint: You've booed him, cheered him, and maybe even had a beer with him. Also, his name is not Roy. Click the link for his ID.

4. I applaud the Red Sox' caution with Clay Buchholz, especially considering that the No-Hit Kid's 2007 season was abbreviated in part due to a tired shoulder. But they're taking it too far if they send him down to Pawtucket while a proven mediocrity such as Julian Tavarez or Kyle Snyder occupies the fifth spot in the rotation. Buchholz has a chance to be an impact pitcher immediately - with his uncommon command of his excellent secondary pitches, I would not be completely shocked if he was the Sox' No. 2 starter by the end of the summer. I don't fault them for babying their prized prospect, and limiting the skinny righty to 180 innings or so this season makes perfect sense. What doesn't make sense: having him pitch anywhere but where he belongs.

5. I wasn't sure whether to pity Debbie Clemens for being another victim of her lying oaf of a husband's runaway ego, or to dismiss her as a vapid, delusional enabler, a Stepford baseball wife. I'm leaning toward the latter, however, after hearing the story about her and Mrs. Canseco comparing, um, assets at the now-infamous barbecue. Turns out Roger wasn't the only boob to make an appearance that day.

6. The Sox really have no choice but to sign Jason Varitek to a contract extension, and I don't mean to suggest that's a bad thing. Compared to other catchers, the 36-year-old captain was very productive last season, batting .255 with 17 homers and 103 OPS+, and we're all aware of his value when it comes to leadership, preparation, and all the small but significant things. (Yes, I refused to use the word "intangibles" there. Jeter owns the copyright, I believe.) It's just that, at his age, durability has to become an increasing concern, and the safest bet for the Sox would be to sign him to something like a two-year, $24 million extension. But with Posada, a superior hitter but inferior to Varitek at just about everything else, signing a four-year, $56.2 million deal in the offseason that will keep him in pinstripes through his 40th birthday, you have to figure Varitek and his agent, Scott Boras, will be looking for something in that pricey neighborhood. And the Sox, with no legitimate catching prospects on the immediate horizon (sorry, Dusty Brown), might just have to pay it.

7. Three quick Pats thoughts, because dammit, I just can't quit them: 1) I'm glad Belichick and Pioli are finally counter-punching regarding Spygate. It ought to prevent other Patriot haters from jumping on the pile after the likes of William Gary, Arlen Spector, and Matt Walsh. But I have to admit, my first impression as I read Mike Reiss's story Sunday night was that the Patriots' portrayal of Walsh as some sort of serial taper sure would be a very convenient way to distance themselves from him if he does happen to possess any damning video. And my hunch - and that's all it is - is that they are fairly certain he does, which would mean, unfortunately, that this ridiculously overblown story is not going away any day soon. 2) I like Zach Thomas as a player, at least until those little birdies started circling his head, but I'm just not sure where he'd fit with the Pats. Hasn't he spent his whole career in a 4-3, hiding behind fat defensive tackles and running to the ball? Doesn't seem like his style and the Pats' defense are compatible. Of course, I said the same thing about Junior Seau two years ago, and now I'm crossing my fingers that he puts off graduation for another year. 3) Ty Law, coming back home? Yes, please, though you have to figure the 33-year-old corner (doesn't it seem like he should be older?) will again choose cold, hard cash over sentiment.

8. I guarantee you the following is the best ending to a column you'll ever see on this blog:

I can't believe he won't come walking out of a clearing, bent over and holding his back and complaining that the swim was bad for his sciatica. If you see someone answering that description, throw him a bad pitch down around the ankles outside and, if he hits it screaming down the right-field line, it can only be Clemente, and you'll know reports of his condition have been grossly exaggerated once again.

I suppose I'm doing the writer a disservice here by repeating his column's masterful ending without fully explaining the circumstances, but I'm going to assume you quickly solved the topic and the circumstances. It's the conclusion to a column written by the legendary Jim Murray that appeared in the L.A. Times on January 3, 1973, three days after a plane carrying Pittsburgh Pirates superstar Roberto Clemente crashed off the coast of Puerto Rico while attempting to deliver relief supplies to earthquake victims in Nicaragua. The body of Clemente, who Murray lovingly eulogizes in the piece as an endearing grump and somewhat of a hypochondriac, was never found, of course, which makes the piece all the more poignant.

I've long been fascinated by Clemente - he and Jackie Robinson are the two players before my time who I wish I'd seen in person - but I'd never read Murray's column about his disappearance until I recently picked up an old anthology of his best work, appropriately titled "The Great Ones." Let's just say I now consider it the best $1.99 I've ever spent.

If you're familiar with Murray's work - and perhaps you are, since he was syndicated for decades (I read him in the Portland Press Herald as a kid) and is widely considered the finest sports columnist ever - it won't be a revelation when I say his columns are elegantly simple, expertly crafted, and unfailingly hilarious. Among current sportswriters, only Joe Posnanski owns the same attributes, and reading both of them often leaves me both inspired and disheartened. It sucks to know that my best column will never be in the same ballpark as Murray's or Posnanski's worst, yet reading them enhances my desire to write, because they remind me just how fulfilling and great something as silly as sportswriting can be. I think that's the best compliment I can pay.

9. As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

Josh Booty was once the highest-rated prep quarterback in Louisiana, ahead of a certain future ubiquitous pitchman. And I'll tell anyone who will listen that, having seen him often during his two seasons with the Portland Sea Dogs, he unequivocally has the best throwing arm I have ever seen in person, and that's no exaggeration. For all of his athletic potential, however, he's now apparently just a severely tasered version of Drew Henson, a ballyhooed prep star who wasn't quite good enough at two sports.

Questions we'd have asked the Texas Con Man while he was under oath

2008-02-13T14:32:00.008-05:00

Do you realize that everyone with a shred of common sense in these chambers realizes you are completely full of b.s., to the point that even the comatose rodent nesting atop Rusty Hardin's head is rolling its eyes?

Is "K" the only letter in the alphabet you can identify?

Whenever you joined a team as a free agent, it was never because "the guys" begged you relentlessly, or because you respected Mr. Torre, or because you didn't want to disappoint Mr. Steinbrenner, or because you desired to win a championship, or because you had a fondness for a particular city, or because you wanted to be closer to your family, but because that particular team happened to be the one throwing the biggest stinkin' piles of loot your way, was it not?

You really did think Toronto borders Texas, didn't ya, you big dummy?

Back when you were Best Friends Forever, did you or Mr. Pettitte ever utter the phrase, "Why can't I quit you?"

Do you have to suppress a guffaw when you hear the phrase "injected Debbie in the buttocks in the bedroom"?

Do you like gladiator movies?

C'mon, even you must admit the "I thought it was the ball," excuse after raging at Piazza was lame, even for a dim-witted hillbilly like you . . . agreed?

Does Debbie cry herself to sleep at night listening to "Stand By Your Man"?

Do you realize that if Debbie really did load up on HGH, there's a decent chance she is seriously going to kick your bloated #*# when you get home?

So, whatcha getting Debbie for Valentine's Day? Perhaps Whitman's offers an injectable sampler?

Do you realize this man will probably be whupping you at shuffleboard when you're both 80 years old?

At what point will you plan on breaking out your tried-and-true escape plan from pressure situations and attempt to limp of here with a "tweaked" hamstring?

Are you terrified that your future fellow prisoners will someday chant, "Where is ROG-AH?! In the SHOW-AH!!"?

Has it dawned on you how much Dan Duquette must be enjoying this?

Who wrote your opening statement, Miss Teen South Carolina? (Hat tip: The Big Lead. Dammit, they beat me to it.)

Do you think the Post will go with the "Oaf Under Oath!" headline tomorrow, or will it be the Daily News?

Does it make you feel better that prisons and your beloved University of Texas essentially have the same uniform colors?

Do you consider Suzyn Waldman another satisfied customer?

Do you really expect us to believe Mr. Pettitte, Mr. McNamee, Mr. Knoblauch, and indirectly, the honorable former senator Mitchell, are being dishonest here, while you, a man with a long history of being a compulsive and transparent liar, is telling the truth?

Do you really believe all these geezers in Congress were born yesterday?

And just one more, Mr. Clemens. While we're here, why not come clean on your longest-running lie: You asked out, didn't you?

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

I don't know about you, but Pettitte gets a standing ovation from me the next time he pitches at Fenway. He's my new favorite Yankee.

In prison, you have to carry your own bags

2008-02-11T22:31:00.002-05:00

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free throwaway lines for you . . .

1. Oh, you know I can't get enough of the Clemens trainwreck. It's like every blatant lie he has gotten away with and every indulgent ego trip he has taken in his unaccountable life was setting up this moment of grand comeuppance. I just hope the reports are true and Andy Pettitte, who we've always been told was a decent, God-fearing man, told the full truth as he knows it about his former teammate and training partner. Should make for some must-see TV tomorrow morning, that's for sure. I'm sure Clemens will be as articulate and believable as ever, even as he sweats like his last name is Giambi. For your entertainment, here are two excellent takes on the subject: Jon Heyman's comprehensive analysis of the situation on CNNSI.com, and this biting piece by the Herald's Gerry Callahan, who remains a hell of a compelling columnist, something I tend to forget since his radio persona seems to be an amalgam of every characteristic I despise in a human being.

2. Heard recently that Rajon Rondo - now officially TATB's second-favorite Celtic to watch, after KG - ended up attending Kentucky only after the Louisville native and lifelong Cardinals fan got the runaround from Rick Pitino, who was putting the full-court press on a more touted prep point guard and considered Rondo his fallback option. That other player? Sebastian Telfair, who of course skipped college altogether and went straight to the NBA, leaving Pitino with neither future Celtic. Funny how those things work out.

3. I can't remember where I read this theory - if one of you sent it along, shoot me a note and I'll pay appropriate credit - but I'm beginning to wonder, in the puzzling absence of a long overdue contract extension for Terry Francona, if there's some credence to it: Is it possible that the bright and coveted John Farrell turned down jobs elsewhere this offseason because he's the heir apparent here and knows his day in the manager's chair will come sooner than anyone outside of the Red Sox front office realizes? Given Francona's worrisome history of health problems and the fact that there are few logical explanations as to why baseball's best manager doesn't yet have the contract he deserves, it's fair to at least wonder if he already has his escape route planned. (Edit: The always enjoyable Fragile Freddy first came up with this thought. I knew I'd seen it somewhere.)

4. While I suppose there's a chance he could be J.T. Snow redux, I really like the Sox' signing of Sean Casey. He's a relatively productive, if powerless, offensive player, a slick glove a first base, and as you may have heard from the already smitten media, one of baseball's good guys. Casey's a true pro, and you can never have too many of those on the bench.

5. Yes, I know his goody-two-shoes radio persona sometimes makes Ned Flanders sound like Sam Kinison by comparison, and I realize it's probably not good for my remaining shred of Boston media street cred, but I'll admit it anyway: I like Dale Arnold and am glad he landed the fill-in radio gig for the Sox. Granted, my appreciation for him dates back to fifth grade, when Arnold, then the radio voice for the late, great Maine Mariners, showed up at my church for some charity event with a couple of players (Yves Preston and Rick St. Croix, if I recall correctly, and you know I do) and couldn't have been nicer to a certain shy, sports-obsessed 10-year-old. Celebrity didn't get much bigger in Bath, Maine in 1980. So yeah, I've always rooted for him to do well, and I think he'll be just fine in this role - unobtrusive, informed, square as a box, and deferential to Uncle Joe. What, you would have preferred Meterparel?

6. Might Dan Morgan, the talented if multi-concussed linebacker who was cut by the Panthers Monday, be a good fit as a situational player with the Pats? I wouldn't mind them taking a flier if he'd agree to a Ted Johnson/Brian Cox-type role. (Yes, there's a cruel Ted Johnson/concussion joke here somewhere, but I'm not looking for it.)

7. Rusty Hardin, Clemens's Evil Matlock of a lawyer, has the worst rug since Morrie in "Goodfellas." I can't stop staring at it. It's mesmerizing, like a little boy's regular crossed with a bus-flattened squirrel. I will give him credit for this - it takes a man of great confidence to wear that nest in public.

8. There's nothing that gets me more fired up for the new season than the thought of Manny Ramirez gearing up for a salary drive by working out like a madman all winter. I realize the likes of Rob Neyer can offer reams of numbers showing that power hitters generally don't bounce back big from a down year at age 36, but I have a hunch Manny will be the exception, in part because he finally looked like himself last October.

9. If Danny Ainge wins the NBA Executive of the Year award, and you have to figure he's a McCain-like frontrunner at this point, it will mainly be because of franchise-resuscitating, headline-stealing trades for Kevin Garnett, and to a much lesser extent, Ray Allen. But Ainge's greatest accomplishment this offseason might be piecing together such a deep and diverse bench, especially when the general consensus was that the talent level on the roster fell off a cliff after the three stars. Leon Powe, James Posey, Glen Davis, and Eddie House are all doing a fine job earning their keep in their various roles, and even Tony Allen has limited his patented Headless Chicken routine lately and begun letting the game come to him. It's a versatile, cohesive group, one that complements the starters effectively, and it may be the most encouraging sign yet that Ainge really knows what he's doing when it comes to building a team.

10. As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

Showtime in less than 24 hours, Rog. What say we go do us some perjurin'!

Sleep through the static

2008-02-10T17:49:00.000-05:00

I know, it's hardly practical to attempt a media blackout when you work in the sports department of a newspaper. But trust me when I say I did my damnedest. Save for Dave D'Onofrio's thoughtful postgame autopsy and the clear-eyed dispatches of Mike Reiss and Chris Gasper, pretty much everything I read in the past week I read only because I was being paid to.

My clicker never settled on ESPN, not for one shouted, hyperbolic, ill-informed word. No "Sports Illustrated championship pack" commercials for me, or, I suspect, you. No Peter King-Favre, and definitely no Kissing Suzy Kolber. No WEEI or WFAN (my usual late-night choice on the trip home from Boston). Just the new Jack Johnson CD, my own mental NFL Films reel, and ever so gradually, some peace of mind regarding the agonizing way it all played out. Yes, I may need to make a habit of tuning out.

So . . . eight days later, here we are, slowly moving on, trying to make sense of the fact that the quest for perfection was derailed by the likes of Eli Manning and David Freakin' Tyree. Not that we'd ever begrudge the Giants their epic victory; they were clutch, smart, well-prepared, aggressive, resourceful, and damn lucky, a formula that should be familiar to and appreciated by any Patriots fan with a shred of self-awareness.

But I don't think it's bad form to admit the Giants deserved to win while also bemoaning that fact that they Patriots had, what, four or five chances on the final drive to clinch the victory for themselves? It just goes to show that football, not baseball, is the ultimate game of inches. If Samuel holds on to the pick . . . if someone in that sea of hands hauls down Manning . . . if Harrison can just pull Tyree's hand free . . .

If, if, if.

Bleeping if.

Hey, like I said, we're returning from the underground slowly. It ain't easy. The hardest part to accept, other than the actual outcome itself, is this: the Patriots needed one play to secure a legacy as the greatest team in history of the NFL, and players who have consistently delivered those big plays in big moments had their chances . . . and shockingly, they let them slip through their hands, literally so in Samuel's case. And because of this out-of-character failure to make the one play they need, their legacy is not one of greatness or immortalily or dominance, but one of almost . . . I don't know, mockery or pity or as a cautionary tale or something. They seem to be regarded now like the marathoner on a record pace who tripped and fell right on his face before the finish line, except on a grander scale, because no one gives a *%&$ about marathoning. They're laughing at us, not with us, and I fear, with good reason, that 18-1 is the new 1918. I hate this feeling.

Odd how the pendulum swings. One play gets made, one play, and this team's relegates the '72 Dolphins to the obscurity they deserve. But one play didn't get made, and now we're left to wonder if the loss was an all-too-appropriate bookend to the Super Bowl victory over the Rams, the completion of the circle. Removing emotion from the equation, I honestly don't believe that we saw an era's conclusion last Sunday; a smart, talent-rich team with Bill Belichick on its sideline and Tom Brady as its quarterback is not going to fade from perennial championship contention because of one soul-crushing loss. We must concede, however, that the coach and the QB no longer have the air of invincibility in the postseason that they once did. This is three seasons without a championship, and the last two season-ending losses have come, excruciatingly, in the game's final moments. The Super Bowl victory over the Eagles is starting to feel like a long time ago.

In a sense, I wish next season would begin tomorrow, just to dull the memory of their last play. As much as I love baseball, this is not a wound that can be healed by another sport, and it's downright silly to suggest the arrival of pitchers and catchers, while a traditional sign that brighter days are coming, can do anything to ease the disappointment of what happened in Arizona.

Further, anyone who suggests this loss was less significant because the indignity was suffered by the Pats instead of the Sox is simply allowing personal opinion to overwhelm logic. Boston is not solely a Baseball Town, not now, and maybe never again; it is a Pro Sports Town now, as evidenced by the current swirling moods: the genuine grief of the Patriots' demise and the giddiness surrounding the Celtics' resurgence. Hell, I'm convinced that if Jeremy Jacobs ever spent some of his beer-and-wiener loot on his neglected hockey team, the marginalized Bruins could again become as beloved as they were in the Neely/Bourque years, if not the golden days of the Gallery Gods in the '70s. It's easy to forget now, but Boston was once a Hockey Town above all else.

We New Englanders are, however, the only ones who have any affection this Patriots team. Everyone besides you and me - to borrow a word from Tom Jackson - hates them, and you bet I believe the whispers that the press box erupted in cheers when the football settled gently into Plaxico Burress's hands.

While some - okay, a lot - of the public disdain is self-inflicted, and I think it would be hugely beneficial if Belichick would permit himself to always be as charming as he was during Super Bowl week, all the ancillary white noise shouldn't sap the fun out of being a fan. Yet it did; turns out it sucks being Goliath.

You'd think the journey to 18-0 would have been joyful, but between SpyGate, RunningUpTheScoreGate, ConsensualHorseplayGate, BradyInABootOnTMZGate, and all the other saturation b.s. "coverage" on ESPN and elsewhere, it turned out that the only fun in following this team came during the actual games . . . that is, until the last game.

Right now, I find myself looking forward to the day the Patriots are treated like just another very good football team again. If that's even possible.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Football Card:

Yeah? Something tells me He loves you more, pal.

The news of the day

2008-02-06T23:20:00.000-05:00

I'm guess I'm with the consensus on the Shaq deal: It's a desperate and somewhat sad act by the Suns, who, by trading versatile Shawn Marion and the shell casing of Marcus Banks to the Heat for the Big Decrepit, are basically admitting that their fun and appealing run-run-run style of play won't cut it when a championship is the mission. At this point, Shaq is the anti-Sun - his lift is gone, he can't rebound, he's a lumbering hacker on defense, and running the floor wasn't exactly a priority when he was in his prime. I do understand Phoenix feels like they need a big guy to deal with Tim Duncan in the postseason, and this is probably in part a reactionary move to a recent loss to the Spurs as well as the Lakers' acquisition of Pau Gasol. But it's such a wrong move, and unless Marion, who is perpetually unhappy with his contract, had become too much of nuisance behind the scenes, I just can't see Mike D'Antoni signing off on this. In '07 Seconds or Less, Jack McCallum's season inside with the '05-'06 Suns, D'Antoni, a playing and coaching legend in the free-flowing Italian League, he's almost defiant in his belief that a fast-break, offensive-oriented, aesthetically pleasing system can win a championship in today's grind-it-out NBA. And now he brings in the ultimate half-court player in Shaq? It just doesn't make sense.

* * *

Upon hearing the news that Brian McNamee turned over needles, syringes, used gauzed pads, and heaven knows what else to Congress as proof that he injected Roger Clemens with performance-enhancing drugs, my first reaction was this: He kept that stuff? For eight years? Disgusting. But then I got to thinking about it, and I realized the obvious: Either McNamee held on to it because he has his own bizarro Hall of Fame exhibit, or he suspected that if it ever came out that the Rocket was fueled by 'roids, Clemens would lie his needle-marked a-- off about it, even if it meant destroying McNamee's life in the process. Hey, you can't say he didn't know his client. I doubt even the actual physical proof will convince Clemens, a serial b.s. artist, to come clean about his usage - he'll still probably claim he thought it was B-12, duh-huh, duh-huh, even if his own fingerprints are still on one of the vials. At the rate he's going, he's going to keep lying until he's sharing a 15x18 cell with a frisky Hell's Angel named Bubba, which brings me to one more point about McNamee: It's very curious that he waited until after Clemens answered questions under oath before he provided the smoking gun, or in this case, syringe. If I were the cynical sort, I'd almost wonder if McNamee wants Clemens to go to jail. Either way, it's apparent this intriguing mess of a story couldn't happen to two better guys.

* * *

If I put together a list of Our Favorite Things here at TATB, the American version of "The Office" and the Fire Joe Morgan blog might come in 1-2, barely edging out raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. So we found it pretty cool when the revelation came today that the pseudonymed mastermind behind the funniest and most well-written baseball blog around is none other than Michael Schur, better known to fans of "The Office" as world-class beet farmer Cousin Mose Schrute. Schur, a Harvard grad and Sox fan who writes under the name "Ken Tremendous" for the FJM, is also one of the main writers for "The Office" - which means he's pretty much living my dream life, other than the fact that Regis Philbin is his father-in-law. Seriously, I often find myself wishing I could write as well as "Tremendous" when I read FJM, so it's kind of nice to find out that he's an accomplished pro, someone I admired already, and not just a random desk jockey for Fremulon Insurance.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Basketball Card:

With all of this talk about Shaq's startling physical regression, I couldn't help but be reminded of Artis Gilmore, whom you might recall was tagged "Rigor Artis" by the Globe's Peter May during his one fossilized season in Boston. It's either one of the funniest or meanest nicknames of all time, depending upon your sense of humor. I think you know where I stand.

* * *

No, we haven't forgetten about the Pats, unfortunately. We're slowly coming to grips with what happened, though I have to admit I still haven't watched ESPN or seen a single highlight from the game. We'll be back with the autopsy in the next day or two. Friggin' Tyree . . .

The loneliest number

2008-02-04T05:41:00.000-05:00

Never would have thought before this season that 18-1 could feel so empty.

Almost perfect? C'mon, that counts for absolutely nothing at this hour. There is no solace to be found. So much more than a single football game was lost tonight. The Patriots were 60 well-played minutes from sporting immortality. They would have stood alone as the greatest team in the history of the sport.

Now? Now they will now be lumped with the '68 Colts, the '90 Bills, the '01 Rams as pumped-up favorites who did not live up to their billing. Those who prematurely reveled in their superiority will be left eating a heaping helping of our own words. (Hello there.) The '72 Dolphins will raise their glasses. The ESPN airbags will smirk. Your Patriots be called chokers. New Yawkers will gloat, loudly, for the first time since Oct, '04. We will have no choice but to endure it all.

I'm in no mood to compare and contrast my favorite teams' most devastating defeats, but I'll admit, the pain of this one won't equal the spirit-crushing sadness I felt after the 2003 ALCS loss; I guess baseball just owns a bigger piece of my heart. But it does leave me aching, and a little bit shellshocked. We've been so blessed as New England sports fans in recent seasons that you'd think disappointment wouldn't hit us so hard anymore. It does. The more you think about what happened tonight, the more depressing it gets. It almost doesn't seem real.

So we're left to search for an explanation for What Went Wrong, and we can't resist the temptation to distribute the blame. Scapegoats can be found without much of a search. The offensive line was a five-man homage to Max Lane; they helped make Justin Tuck a star tonight. Ellis Hobbs, a weak link exposed, still has no idea where the hell Plaxico Burress went. Benjamin Watson (one penalty, one false start, zero catches) would have helped the cause more by remaining behind in Foxboro. And that's just the starter list.

Even the two men who always gave us the confidence - sure, arrogance - to believe the Patriots would coast to their fourth championship in seven seasons were not their usual infallible selves tonight. Belichick's decision to go for a fourth and 13 in the first half rather than have Stephen Gostkowski attempt a 49-yard field goal was curious at the time, and in hindsight it looks like a strategic blunder that will linger. Worse, he now has something in common with Mike Martz. He was outcoached on the biggest stage, and those right there are words I never thought I'd write.

As for the quarterback, I imagine he never thought Plaxico Namath's 23-17 prediction would actually be generous to the Pats' offense. It's fair to say Brady was underwhelming for the second straight playoff game, playing sluggishly until the go-ahead drive in the fourth quarter. Brady, like his coach, no longer owns that invincible aura in the postseason - that happens when you lose to a Manning in the final minute two straight seasons. I would not be surprised to learn the infamous ankle was injured more than anyone outside of the Patriots' locker room knew; he did not step into his deep throws all night, and he was unusually scattershot on numerous passes longer than a dozen or so yards. The New York pass rush battered him like he was an honorary Bledsoe. The only way his day could have been more disappointing is if Gisele went home with Eli Manning.

While the Patriots contributed to their own demise, let's be clear. They didn't lose the game; the Giants went out and won the damn thing, and while that is absolutely no consolation whatsoever, it's a fact. Manning out-Bradyed Brady, throwing a pair of fourth-quarter TD passes and emerging confidently from big brother Peyton's enormous shadow, and it must have been easy for anyone without a New England allegiance to root for him tonight. I'm not sure I've seen a career-defining moment take place for two teammates on the same play, but Manning's escape-and-heave to David Tyree for the one-handed catch against his helmet . . . well, Steve Sabol IV will be showing that one on NFL Films reels decades from now. It will endure as The Play from this game, a Montana-to-Clark for this generation. I'd just as soon never see it again.

The cruelest twist, of coure, is that the Giants beat the Patriots with what was once their signature style - fierce and unrelenting defense, an opportunistic, efficient offense, and just the right amount of pure friggin' luck. (Tell me again how Pierre Woods failed to come up with that loose ball in the second quarter.) Watching the Giants play so admirably, you can't help but wonder if, during this high-flying, record-setting season, the Patriots have somehow lost their way, the essence of what they once were and what they should be. I do not need to remind you that his makes three straight years the Patriots have had to walk off the field with their heads bowed. While they remain the sport's model organization and surely will be in the postseason mix again a season from now, the dynasty talk for now belongs in the past tense.

We can't help but recall what Brady said often in the days leading up to the game. We will remember this game all our lives. Sadly, now it will be for all the wrong reasons. The coronation turned into a funeral. Those damn Giants, they were right all along.

Four-front

2008-02-03T06:59:00.000-05:00

During the hypnotizing hype (as the great Joe Posnanski calls it) of this ridiculous two-week hiatus between football games, I've passed some time attempting to temper my surging arrogance about a certain dynasty's immediate destiny.

I reminded myself that this is exactly how St. Louis Rams fans felt six seasons ago. I paid proper respect to the strengths of this admirable if mouthy Giants football team - the thunder 'n' lightning running duo of Brandon Jacobs and Ahmad Bradshaw, the fierce Strahan/Umenyiora-led pass rush that surely will test Tom Brady's re-booted ankle, the height advantage talented Plaxico Burress holds over the Patriots' shrimpy cornerbacks. I even wondered if my desperation to witness the completion of a flawless season is blurring the line between what I hope happens and what is likely to happen.

I considered, pondered, even worried a little . . . I tried, honestly I did. But in the end, my forced attempts at humble concern were as bleepin' hopeless as the underdog's chances tonight.

The New England Patriots are going to pulverize the New York Giants this evening. Think Steve Young vs. Stan Humphries. Fetal Tony Eason vs. the 46 Defense. The How 'Bout Them Cowboys vs. the hapless Bills. A mismatch for the ages.

It's been a redemptive run through the postseason for Eli Manning, Tom Coughlin, and the Giants, a team that has legitimately suffered more skeptics and doubters than the Patriots could ever imagine. (And admittedly, a lot of the Patriots' are imagined.) But all logic suggests their bandwagon will go careening off the road today, and football fans everywhere will be left rubbernecking at the wreckage.

We'll keep this simple. To stay with the Patriots today, the Giants will need every positive event from their 38-35 loss in Week 17 - four red-zone TD passes from Manning, a kick return for a TD, a stalled Patriots running game - to reoccur. And the will need to eliminate every mistake they made in the previous meeting while containing, if not entirely shutting down, a Patriots passing attack that is sure to be rejuvenated in the Arizona sun.

To stay with the Patriots, they are the ones who will have to be perfect. And the chances of that happening are roughly the same as the chances of Brady ditching Gisele to go back to Tara Reid.

This is how it's going to go, people. The Patriots will pull ahead early, Brady finding Randy Moss deep once or twice against the Giants' spotty defensive backfield, and suddenly Manning will find himself playing from behind against a Patriots defense that will undoubtedly reveal wrinkles and complexities he did not see in the previous meeting. For a quarterback who considered a disappointment if not an out-and-out bust six weeks ago, it's a recipe for embarrassment. When it's all over, Archie Manning will remember why Peyton was always his favorite.

Yes, today will bring the culmination and the coronation. Nineteen wins, zero losses, a legacy that will endure for all time. Do you really think a team led by Bill Belichick and Brady, a team populated by savvy veterans, a team that knows its way around a Super Bowl or four, will let football immortality slip from their grasp?

Not a chance, which in part explains why Belichick was in such an unusually jolly mood this week. He knows his team is ready for its closeup, and nothing - not Eagles fanboy Arlen Spector's curiously timed grandstanding, not Matt Walsh's vague insinuations, not even the look-at-me pleas for attention by the likes of Merril Hoge and Gregg Easterbrook - can bring them down. In fact, that's the irony that is somehow lost on their haters and skeptics. Their doubts feed the beast. I've never seen another professional sports team that so effectively converts sleights - both real and imagined - into fuel come game time.

Which is why, at roughly 10 p.m. this evening, we'll bear delightful witness to one final act of vengeance. The confetti will rain, the Patriots will reign . . . and Roger Goodell, a fake plastic smile creasing his face, will have to hand over the Lombardi Trophy to Bill Belichick.

If that isn't the perfect final scene to a perfect season, well, just you tell me what is.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Hall of Famer:

A long overdue honor for 'ol No. 56, and a rather fine way to kick off the Patriots-centric weekend as well.

Smooth

2008-01-29T22:18:00.000-05:00

There's a part of me - the part that savors a well-pitched 2-1 ballgame, the part that appreciates a Bugs Bunny changeup that instantly turns a slugger from ferocious to feeble - that was thrilled about the prospect of Johan Santana pitching for the Boston Red Sox in 2008 and beyond. In that sense, it's a small disappointment that his immense talent and admirable approach to the game will be some other fanbase's treat for the next few seasons, provided his left elbow remains sound.

So much for that daydream of a Josh Beckett-Santana 1-2 punch. But you know what? It's better this way. No, Santana's not a Red Sox. But he's not a Yankee, either, thank goodness. He's out of the AL, and the way it all played out is the best possible outcome for the reigning World Series champs.

That's not to say Minnesota made the correct trade, however. Perhaps time will prove me wrong here, but my immediate impression is that Minnesota whiffed like Trot Nixon against a lefty. New GM Bill Smith made a classic rookie mistake. He got reasonable, if not overwhelming, offers from the Red Sox and the Yankees around the time of the winter meetings, decided neither proposal was enough in exchange for the best pitcher of this decade, waited too long for more . . . and ended up getting less. Much less.

Minnesota received (or should I say will receive, for the deal isn't official until Santana signs an extension) four of the Mets' top seven prospects according to Baseball America: outfielder Carlos Gomez, and pitchers Phil Humber, Kevin Mulvey and Deolis Guerra. But what they didn't get - and what they absolutely had to receive in exchange for a 29-year-old two-time Cy Young award winner - was an elite prospect, someone whom they could show their fans and say, Yes, we traded the best pitcher of this decade. But we think we just acquired our signature star of the next generation. Be patient. There's hope.

Instead, Twins fans are left lamenting the departure of yet another iconic athlete in exchange for what looks suspiciously like a handful of magic beans. As one commenter put it on Twins blogger extraordinaire Aaron Gleeman's site:

The only thing that could have made this better is if the Mets had somehow thrown in Herschel Walker.

Turns out bitter sports sarcasm isn't solely the domain of New Englanders.

By all accounts, the one player the Twins coveted - and the one they should have demanded - was outfielder Fernando Martinez, a slugger-in-waiting who made a good impression in Double A this past season at the age of 18. I don't think much of Omar Minaya as a GM - sometimes it seems like his mission is to reassemble the 1999 Caribbean Winter League All-Star team in Flushing - but he deserves a tip of the ball cap for getting Santana without giving up his most prized prospect.

In retrospect, Smith should have taken the Yankees offer a month ago. I'm on record as a believer in Phil Hughes, who I think will turn out to be a more accomplished player than anyone mentioned in these rumors, Jacoby Ellsbury included. No Sox fan wanted to see Santana end up in the Bronx, of course, but is it of mild concern that the Yankees took the - gasp! - prudent, big-picture approach here. You know if Hank "The Tank" Steinbrenner had his druthers, they'd have given up Hughes and Ian Kennedy without a moment's hesitation. He's got to be furious about Santana ending up with their back-page rival. I bet he stayed up all night in the official Steinbrenner Lair, chain-smoking Camels, cursing that prospect-hoarding know-nothing Brian Cashman, and scouring the internet for NSFW photos of Jennifer Love Hewitt.

The Yankees made the best offer, in my humble opinion, and based on what we think we know, the Sox made the second-best, at least up until Jon Lester was recently taken off the table. Yet despite the fair proposal, I'm still not convinced Theo Epstein's interest was entirely sincere. The cost - not only in dollars on Santana's extension, but in terms of prospects - had to gnaw at the Sox GM. I imagine he's entirely satisfied with the outcome today. Santana's a Met, the Yankees still desperately need a No. 1 starter, and the Sox remain the AL East favorite while retaining Ellsbury, Lester, Jed Lowrie, and Justin Masterson, prized graduates of the Player Development Machine.

Sure, the thought of Santana as a Red Sox was lovely one. But like the GM, we're attached to the kids, too, and even the Pink Hats know that Ellsbury and Lester have already contributed to one World Championship. Funny thing is, after today's developments, there's a decent chance they'll have to beat the Mets and their new ace to contribute to another one.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Basketball Card:

I can't believe he hasn't bailed out on the Heat yet. Save for Dwyane Wade, that's one reprehensible basketball team right now.

Sunday mornin' comin' down

2008-01-25T16:37:00.001-05:00

Disorganized thoughts while waiting for the game to hurry up and get here . . .

One of the mini-perks of this bloggin' gig is the occasional advertising-generated gift certificates from Amazon that show up in my inbox. They've never for much money, $13.14 here, $8.92 there, but I always feel like I'm getting free books when I cash them in, one of the little rewards that make this all the more worthwhile. Lately, I've been using them to fill in the gaps in my collection of old Bill James books. I added all three editions (1990-'92) of the addictive, sprawling "The Baseball Book" for about 10 bucks total, and the UPS truck yesterday delivered James's 1995 Player Ratings Guide, the final year it was issued. You might recall that I used player capsules from his two previous Player Ratings Guides as sort of a quirky quiz in my Fox column last summer, and while the column will likely return in some form in a couple of months, I'll probably discontinue that feature. But for your viewing pleasure - or because you're a certified James dork too - I figured I'd share five of the more notable caps here from the '95 book. All you need to know is that these players are currently active and remain relatively prominent. As always, clicking the link within the clue will reveal the player's identity. I'm betting you go at least three for five:

"I wonder how many pitchers in baseball history have gone 48-16 over three seasons? [He] is one of the best pitchers in baseball, but his years of effectiveness are probably limited. He's 26, but pitches more like he's 33. He'll run out gas within four years, when guys like Cone and Randy Johnson, who are older than him, are still going strong."

"History shows us that there is at least one and normally are two rookies in every crop who will wind up in Cooperstown, My best from the 1994 rookies: [This player] and Ryan Klesko. [This player] had a terrible slump last May, hitting .132, but hit .300 or better in every other month, hit .361 against lefthanders, and played surprisingly well in right field."

"There is every reason to believe that [he] will be one of the best pitchers in baseball over the next few years. His future is unlimited. Many of you will note that when his brother was the same age, we would have said the same thing about him, but that didn't happen, in part, because [his manager] pushed him too hard when he was young."

"Babe Ruth, Ted Williams, and [this hitter] . . . maybe the three best hitters God ever made. Gets on base half the time, has tremendous power, hits .350 . . . what more could you want? He works hard, stays healthy, never slumps. Only weaknesses are his glove and speed. When [he was picked] seventh overall in the the 1989 draft, [his team was] widely ridiculed by the scouting community."

Lastly, this was filed under the back page category of "Long Shots":

Back in the minors, getting his knuckles beat in.

So . . . know them? C'mon, I know you do.

* * *

Six other slightly more timely thoughts:

1. Nice to see Gerald Green is still the same clueless waste of physical talent that he was in Boston. A Friend of TATB who was around the team on a regular basis the past few seasons says he has the maturity and attention span of a 9-year-old, which is why he was talking trash to the Celtics bench after hitting a couple of shots tonight, as if somehow he was avenging some wrong done to him by Doc Rivers. It's also why he'll be fading into obscurity with the likes of Butte Daredevils when the T-Wolves dump him after the season. The kid just doesn't get it, and though he's still young (21), he probably never will.

2. Put it this way: If Tom Brady's ankle injury was at all serious, would Bill Belichick be taking such a light (for him) tone with the media the past few days?

3. I'm officially concerned about Ray Allen. It's gotten to the point that when he squared up for a shot, I'm expecting his to miss, and I never, ever thought that would be the case when he came here. It's probably just a slump, but if he's hurt more than we know, Doc Rivers needs to get him out of there and give him the proper rest, immediately.

4. I like the idea of Klesko as the lefthanded stick off the Sox bench, though I think Brad Wilkerson would be my first choice. As for Trot Nixon? No thanks, Nick.

5. File it under "Blind Squirrel, Nut" if you must, and definitely don't tell Peter King, but I absolutely nailed Brett Favre's postseason gack-job, just as I pegged Roidin' Roger's pathetic postseason farewell. Don't say I can't spot a phony.

6. Finally, we give you the early frontrunner for sports quote of the year, this comes from a former associated of Jose Canseco's, via Jon Heyman's column on the former slugger/man of letters:

"[Jose] is a moron of the highest order. If he could have majored in moronics, he would have gone to college."

Moronics. Hmmm, I'm pretty sure I got a C+ in that at UMaine back in the day.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Football Card:

Not the rapper. Just the inspiration for the name.

Little big man

2008-01-24T02:32:00.000-05:00

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free Dana Jacobson bleep-faced rants for you . . .

1. Remember when Kevin Faulk couldn't nudge aside a decaying Terry Allen to become the Patriots' feature back? Remember a few years later when he lost his third-down role to temporary hero J.R. Redmond? Remember when you cringed every time he carried the ball because it seemed like he fumbled in every big situation? Remember when Kevin Faulk wasn't nearly as dependable, clutch, admired, smart, tough, respected, and downright essential as he his now, in his ninth NFL season? Talk about a player who has redeemed himself, not only on the field but in the eyes of the fans. He's the heir apparent to Troy Brown as the team's designated Beloved Overachiever, and it's to his endless credit that he has arrived at this point in his career after such a maddening start.

2. It kills me how the ESPN hairdos and other would-be contrarians, in their desperation to find a way the Giants can stop the Patriots, repeatedly cite the 1990 Bills and the 2001 Rams as two historically great offenses who were defeated in the Super Bowl. I mean, c'mon - shouldn't it be obvious, even to the multi-concussed likes of Merril Hoge, what the common denominator was in those two games?

3. Let's see: Mike Vrabel allegedly tried to leg whip Philip Rivers in the AFC title game, Rodney Harrison's list of dastardly transgressions is long and distinguished, and I'd be tempted to side with Richard Seymour against Nick Hardwick's claim of cheap play if only he hadn't been caught stomping on the Colts' Tarik Glenn last season. If the Pats aren't careful, they're going to get the reputation as a dirty team. Which, frankly, is fine by me.

4. Philip Rivers yaps way more than a quarterback of his limited talent and accomplishment should, but after watching him gut it out against the Pats on a messed-up knee while LaDainian Tomlinson passed the biggest game of his career by brooding in his Haz-Mat suit on the bench, I know who I'd respect more in that huddle from here on out.

5. A pleasant dilemma for Danny Ainge: Should he sign Damon Stoudamire once his buyout with the Grizzlies becomes official, or should he gamble and hope that the superior Sam Cassell - a good buddy of KG's and proven postseason performer - becomes available in a similar fashion a few weeks down the road? I think I vote for the latter, though the risk is that Stoudamire signs elsewhere, Cassell doesn't become available, and we're stuck watching the likes of Tony Allen pass, punt, and kick the ball upcourt in a playoff game when Rajon Rondo is on the bench.

6. I suppose the man Bill Parcells christened "Beach Ball" deserves credit for being honest about who he's pulling for this week. To put this delicately, DeOssie doesn't strike me as a guy who always put family before football, but he wouldn't be the first person to get his priorities straight as he grew older.

7. Damn. Talk about seeing a ghost. A few days ago, I watched that '86 Maryland/North Carolina game on ESPN Classic - you know the game I mean, for it's remembered as Bias's definitive performance - and I was reminded yet again how easily the memories of his death come rushing back. Yeah, I'll probably check out the movie. But I doubt I'll see anything that wasn't permanently burned into my mind when I was 16 years old and devastated.

8. The closer we get to spring training, the closer I get to officially becoming concerned that Terry Francona doesn't have the lucrative, long-term contract he deserves. Here's hoping this is something Theo's getting done under the cover of darkness, and it'll be announced when we're not expecting it.

9. Best wishes to Tom Coughlin with your extensive skin-graft surgery, and here's hoping you don't come out looking like the Cat Lady. Seriously, by the end of the NFC Championship Game, he looked like a cross between the Snow Miser and Fire Marshall Bill. Couldn't he have at least worn some ear muffs?

10. As for today's Completely Random Hockey Card:

I pay about as much attention to hockey as I do to "The View," but I'm fairly certain the Bruins' coach looks nothing like this nowadays.

Pregame jitters

2008-01-20T00:32:00.000-05:00

Well, sure, of course I'm nervous. Nervous that Shawne Merriman and Shaun Phillips will get their share of cracks at Tom Brady, especially since Matt Light and Nick Kaczur both had a touch of flu this week. Nervous that Darren Sproles will blow past the Pats' aging linebackers just as he did against Indy's faster unit a week ago. Nervous that Chris Chambers and Vincent Jackson will win more than their share of jump balls against the Pats' shrimpy cornerbacks.

Nervous about the impossibly high stakes of this game, and the legacy as the Undisputed Greatest Team Ever that depends upon a victory today and another in two weeks. I want this so bad I can feel it. I can't imagine how wild this must be for the players.

But mostly it's those good kind of nerves, the ones you have when you're on the brink of something special or fun or meaningful. You'd think we'd become jaded after watching the Pats make it to five AFC championship games this decade, that playing for a trip to the Super Bowl wouldn't seem as special as it did in, say, '96 or '01. Yet after all this team has accomplished in the Bill Belichick Era, I'm glad to report that making it to this moment and anticipating what's to come still gets the butterflies dancing in the belly.

Besides, it's a mistake to confuse nervousness with a lack of confidence. While you have to respect the Chargers, not only for what they did to the Colts last weekend but for the depth of talent on their roster, I can't convince myself that a team coached by Norv Turner and quarterbacked by Billy Volek or the insufferable Philip Rivers is going to win a big game against Bill Belichick and Brady. The Patriots have an enormous advantage at head coach and quarterback. I imagine you probably knew that, huh?

And while it's natural to be nervous about those potential plot twists I mentioned in the first paragraph, the truth is the Chargers have much, much more to be worried about. With Antonio Gates and LaDainian Tomlinson looking iffy, the offense could be without its two best playmakers, though I have to admit I have major questions about LT's toughness after he missed the rest of the Indy game with what turned out to be a minor injury. There are no questions about the toughness of the Chargers' defense - but there are plenty about their personnel. Antonio Cromartie is a terrific cornerback, which by my accounting means that San Diego has exactly one high-quality defensive back. I just cannot see them slowing the Patriots' passing game whatsoever. Even if Randy Moss's mind is still on the dreaded Consensual Horseplay Scandal, he will have his moments. Plus, no one has stopped Wes Welker yet, and Drayton Florence sure as hell won't be the first. Spectacularly and efficiently, the Pats will get their points.

I do realize that the Chargers come into this with nothing to lose, which makes them all the more dangerous. The victory over the Colts already gives them a season-defining, feel-good theme for the NFL Films highlight reel; there's really no pressure on them. They should be loose and confident, and you know Merriman, Stephen Cooper, and friends will be jabbering and smack-talking from the time they arrive at the stadium. Which, precisely, is why it would nice, if not quite imperative, for the Pats to jump to an early 10-0 or 14-0 lead, just to remind the Chargers, hardly the mentally toughest team in the league, who they're dealing with and that the cause is hopeless.

But even if they don't silence the Chargers early, you know they will do it eventually.

Patriots, 37-17.

Next up, a trip to Arizona. Where history awaits.

Mission statement

2008-01-17T22:58:00.000-05:00

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free half-formed thoughts for you . . .

1. I know we're supposed to be focusing on football at this hour, but I can't help getting all jacked and pumped for baseball season when I read that Manny Ramirez has been working out at the legendary Athletes Performance Institute in Arizona for the better part of the winter. You know what? Screw that oh-no-he's-beginning-his-decline stuff. Manny's ticked, he's focused, he's probably a little embarrassed, and he's coming back, big-time. I'm thinking .320-36-133, conservatively.

2. Okay, one more Sox item before we swing over to the Pats: Geffner's gone! GEFFNER'S GONE!!! WHEEEEE-HOOOOOOOO!!! BREAK OUT THE ZIMA, SOX GAMES ARE LISTENABLE AGAIN! (Deep breath. Fist pump! Okay, calm. YESSS! Calm. Deep breath.) Beyond the fact that even Joe Castiglione must be thrilled that his media guide-spewing, ridiculously unqualified sidekick is departing for a job with the Marlins, it's curious that another perceived underling/lackey of Larry Lucchino is out the door, not long after Dr. Charles took his patented schmaltz to Los Angeles. Hmmm. Almost makes you think Theo's running the whole show now, doesn't it?

3. Here's a fun hypothetical for you: What devious scheme do you think Bill Belichick would come up with to stop - or should I say attempt to stop - this Patriots' offense? Obviously, his credentials need no rehash here, but it's still worth noting that he's the mastermind who thwarted both the K-Gun Bills and the Greatest Show on Turf Rams, two of the most prolific offenses of all time. Of course, the rules were different then - his defenses could knock the living snot out of the receivers, which brings us to a great point in this Washington Post article sent along by Official TATB Antagonist Donovan Burba. Namely, that the Patriots have taken advantage of a rule change that Bill Polian and the nefarious competition committee thought would ruin them:

"When the NFL rule-makers cracked down four years ago on clutching-and-grabbing tactics by defensive players to try to open up the passing game, the move widely was viewed as a response to the rugged way in which the New England Patriots had played defense on their way to their first two Super Bowl titles.

"That 2004 directive by the league's competition committee changed the way the game is played, perhaps forever. It has led to a rewriting of the record book. And, oddly enough, it set the stage for the Patriots to become arguably the most dominant team in league history this season as they chase an unbeaten season and their fourth Super Bowl championship with an offense orchestrated by Coach Bill Belichick and quarterback Tom Brady.

"The very rule once thought to be more detrimental to the Patriots than to any other NFL club has become a crucial asset, yet another example of how the franchise has become a dynasty because Belichick and his front office are more adaptable than anyone else in the league."

If that isn't delicious irony, I don't know what is. Somewhere, Polian just punted his hairless cat, slapped his manservant, then fired his glass of scotch against the wall.

4. Just when I was beginning to wonder if Ray Allen was careening headlong into that Over-32 wall that seems to affect virtually every star shooting guard not named Jordan or Miller, he goes out and delivers a vintage 35-point performance against a very impressive Portland Trail Blazers team. So for the moment I'm convinced that Mr. Shuttlesworth is still capable of a major star turn when the moment calls for it, provided Doc Rivers has the common sense to give him the necessary rest the next few months. It would also be swell if Danny Ainge could find a suitable backup point guard so Allen doesn't have to expend energy with additional ballhandling duties. He's a shooter, still. Let that be his focus.

5. Let's put it this way: If Roger Clemens goes before Congress willingly, I'll eat his lawyer's hairpiece. In the biggest moments, he's always shriveled and tried to find the coward's way out. Why should that change now? I fully expect that if he does end up having to testify, he'll pull out his old standby and try to limp out of the proceedings halfway through with the trusty "tweaked" groin excuse. Desperate man, desperate measures. (And if you haven't seen this yet, Esquire absolutely destroys him with this point-by-point list of his all-time scumbag transgressions, appropriately titled, "The Wonderful, Despicable Life of Roger Clemens." You know I loved it.

6. Nice of Jason Garrett to let Wade Phillips stick around on his staff in Dallas, isn't it? Phillips doesn't strike me as the sharpest tool in the shed - I believe the past phrase I used to describe his coaching style was "Pete Carroll with man-boobs," and I'm sticking with it - but even he has to know he's a dead-man walking in Dallas. No one's admitting it, but Jerry Jones simply had to promise Garrett one of two things to get him to turn down head coaching gigs in Baltimore and Atlanta to stay as the Cowboys' offensive coordinator: That he'd be Phillips's eventual successor as head coach - and, shhh, don't tell Wade, but sooner rather than later - or that he'd could take Jessica Simpson to Cabo and give her the Romo treatment for the week. Probably the former, I suppose.

7. The Baltimore Orioles haven't done a whole hell of a lot right in recent seasons, but shipping Miguel Tejada to the Houston Astros the day before the Mitchell Report was made public was inspired. That's just the kind of sneaky I like.

8. Even though the dynamics weren't quite right this season, I'm still going through serious "The Office" withdrawal. Can't imagine there's any chance the season can be salvaged given how long the writers' strike is expected to last.

9. I was as annoyed by Rodney Harrison's unnecessary penalties against the Jaguars as anyone, but as far as I'm concerned he can keep on spearing that floppy-armed motormouth Philip Rivers until he has one of his bloody ribs dangling from his facemask. And that goes double if Rivers isn't actually playing in the game.

10. As for today's Completely Random Football Card:

I mentioned my boyhood adulation of J.J. and the rest of the Air Coryell Chargers before last year's San Diego-New England playoff showdown, and so the rules of superstition and jinxes dictate we mention them again this time around. Hey, at least I'm not tempting fate by comparing the Pats to the '86 Celts before they actually win the damn thing like some people. Sheesh.

An extremely arrogant post about the Patriots

2008-01-12T00:26:00.000-05:00

I suppose I should be nervous for the Patriots tonight against preening mastermind Jack Del Rio and his jacked-and-pumped Jacksonville Jaguars. After all, pretty much everything I've heard and seen this week about the game has had a common, terribly worrisome theme:

Jacksonville can win this football game. Oh, yes, they can. And we're going to spend the next 30 minutes murdering all common sense and logic by telling you how.

Now, maybe I've been getting my Trey Wingo fix at all the wrong times, and maybe all of the simpering Schlereths, concussed Hoges, and blathering Baylesses have been giving the Patriots the proper respect.

Surely at some point perhaps they mentioned the record point total and the record point differential as signs of the Patriots' historically unmatched dominance. Surely they gave them their due for beating just about every legitimate heavyweight challenger along the way, having decked Indy and Dallas on the road, and knocked out San Diego at home. (If only they got to knock around that phony Favre, too.)

Yes, surely they mentioned that at this particular moment in time, the New England Patriots are blessed to take the field with, arguably, the best coach, the best quarterback, and the best wide receiver in the history of the league. Surely they mentioned that the Patriots have a greater depth of talent than any team has a right to in the salary cap era. Surely they mentioned these things while I was looking away. (And don't call me Shirley.)

But I have not heard them say these things, at least not nearly often enough given their significance in foretelling what might happen tonight, and because of that I can come to only the obvious conclusion: The vast majority of football pundits - and, I assume, fans who don't have an allegiance - would like nothing better than for the Patriots to follow up their unbeaten regular season with a winless postseason.

And to that I say this: I will remember to shed a tear for all of the poor, clueless souls who rooted and bet against the Patriots after they walk off the Gillette Stadium turf with another convincing victory over another talented, hopelessly overmatched opponent tonight. No, wait, check that: I'll be honest here. I won't feel their pain. Not an ounce of it. I'll smirk, smugly celebrate, and make Massholish sarcastic remarks, just like I'm doing now. What can I say, the Patriots' us-against-the-world attitude seems to be rubbing off on their fanbase. (Look, I'm even exaggerating perceived sleights, just like they do! Go Pats!)

Now, in all seriousness, I don't mean to suggest the Jaguars aren't worthy of respect, at least in certain aspects. The running backs, as I'm sure you have heard, are outstanding. Maurice Jones-Drew is a relentless dynamo, a Tasmanian Devil in cleats, and I'm sure he will pose a problem for the Pats' D on some level. And I'm a longtime fan of his running mate in the Jags' backfield, Fred Taylor. There was a time not so long ago when I thought he was the most complete runner in the NFL, a devastating combination of power and elusiveness, and he deserves endless credit for efficiently chugging along a decade into a career that often seemed like it would be cut short by injuries.

There are other characters and characteristics to admire. Quarterback David Garrard is bright and efficient. The defense is tough and mean. And as Football Outsiders whiz Aaron Schatz pointed out, their offense was actually superior to the Patriots' over the last half of the season. So, yes, I agree with the TV hairdos, bloviators, and Ordways - this is not a team to be taken lightly, even if Del Rio is playing Candy Land to Bill Belichick's chess.

But that's the point, dummy. The Patriots won't take them lightly. This team has been on a vengeful mission since a few hours after Mangini's goons confiscated that freakin' camera. They want to shut up the '72 Dolphins once and for all. They want their critics to shove their snarky asterisks where they will never see daylight again. They wanted 16-0, and you know they can taste 19-0. They want to be regarded as the greatest team in league history, dammit, and they are too talented, too well-prepared, and too motivated to allow the freakin' Jacksonville Jaguars to prevent them for fulfilling their mission.

This is how it's gonna be: Brady finds Moss for a pair of early scores, Garrard becomes uncharacteristically careless with the ball when he has to play from behind, and the Pats beat a good team in convincing fashion . . . again. Patriots 34, Jaguars 13.

Bring on Peyton and the Ponies, the only legitimate threat to that zero in the loss column. But you knew that all along, didn't you?

The Ultimate, All-Time, Wicked Awesome, New England Patriots Player Quiz (Part 2)

2008-01-07T00:07:00.000-05:00

All right, listen up, ya bunch of Marys. (Or is it Sallys? I can never remember.) Way too many of you so-called Patriots fans griped that the first test was (sniff . . . sob . . . wahhhh!) too hard, that included too many old-school players and not enough of recent vintage.

You sniveled like Hines Ward after the Steelers' annual playoff gag job. It was not your proudest moment.

But don't fret, Marys. And Sallys. And Hineses. Your tears have not been shed in vain. Your whiny emails have been considered. We will make this easier and more modern. Below is part two of the quiz, featuring 25 players, all of whom played for the Patriots in the past 20 years. There are no Joe Kapps in the bunch. One of them is even Drew McQueen Bledsoe - that's one freebie right there. You do remember him, right?

I assume you know the rest of drill - we'll offer a written clue to the player's identity as well as a link to that player's profootballreference.com page to confirm (or deny) your guess. If you get all 25 right, we'll send you . . . well, nothing. But at least you can take comfort in knowing you got 22 more correct than Felger probably did.

So put on your thinking cap and your lucky throwback Clayton Weishuhn jersey, and let's go. Anything less than 20 correct this time, and you're doomed to a life listening to the Patriots' pregame show on an endless loop. Actually, that's a hell we wouldn't wish on anyone.

Hit it, Run . . .

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1. A beast on special teams and in short-yardage situations, this object of "The Mooses' " affection spent 13 seasons with the Pats (1978-'90) and remains one of the franchise's all-time most popular players. His kid's not a bad linebacker, either.

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2. One of the most electric athletes the Patriots have ever had, but too many of his highlights here happened off the field. Does the carved-up finger before the Super Bowl ring a bell? How about the tale of how he drove his car into a tree at halftime of a game he was playing in? To his credit, he turned his life around after he left New England, and finished with 851 catches in 17 seasons.

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3. Chosen with the 13th pick in the '92 draft, he lasted just three seasons in New England and five in the NFL. Rumor has it he now works as a turnstile at the entrance of Gillette Stadium.

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4. Third-round pick in 1990 after a storybook career at LSU, this occasional starter at QB had a pea-shooter of an arm that makes Chad Pennington's look like Jeff George's.

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5. Pretty good cornerback on some pretty wretched early '90s teams, he was the player Lisa Olson was interviewing when Zeke Mowatt decided to, um, introduce himself.

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6. Speedy showboat out of Michigan was named All-Pro in '92 as a kick returner, averaging 28.2 yards on 20 attempts, including a 100-yarder for a TD. But his inability/unwillingness to adhere to the playbook got his ticket punched out of New England, and he was out of the NFL after four seasons at age 25. A complete waste of talent.

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7. Journeyman passer held the Pats' starting job for a couple of seasons in the early '90s, but his greatest accomplishment, on the field or off, was dating Lisa Guerrero in her prime. (She was then Lisa Coles, Patriots cheerleader and lousy-quarterback aficionado.)

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8. A decent pass-catching tight end before Ben Coates seized his job, he made the Pro Bowl in '91 and '92, but was something less than a deep threat: in '91, he had 82 catches for 808 yards (9.9 ypc), then in '92, he hauled in 52 passes for 413 yards (7.9 ypc). I'm guessing Eugene Chung had a better time in the 40.

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9. This former Bledsoe caddy is probably the only player Andy Gresh could get correct in this quiz, seeing that they do a radio show together every morning. Actually, come to think of it, I'm still not sure he'd get it.

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10. Plodding running back, a first-round pick in '91, was stabbed in the chest outside a club in '93. Irving Fryar's wife was not considered a suspect.

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11. Archaologists report this football dinosaur was tall with a strong arm, and he's fossilized proof that there was indeed Life Before Brady. Last seen getting sacked by his own kids at the Parenting With Dignity Summer Picnic after holding the Nerf ball too long.

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12. This underachieving former receiver + pool cue = extremely agitated and vengeful Lawyer Milloy. Once missed a good chunk of a season with a hamstring injury, prompting Bill Parcells to note, "I came back from my heart-bypass surgery faster."

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13. One of the Giants retreads Parcells brought with him to the Pats, this safety had five interceptions in two seasons in New England before losing his job to . . .

* * *

14. . . . this savvy but slow safety nicknamed "Big Play," who unfortunately tended to give up as many as he made. His end-zone interception of Mark Brunell in the '96 AFC Championship Game helped seal franchise's second trip to the Super Bowl, then he was promptly scorched by Brett Favre and Co. in the Packers' win. Oh, the cruel irony of that nickname.

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15. A star running back at Ohio State, he evolved into a lumbering but sure-handed H-Back-type by the time he arrived in New England in time for the '96 Super Bowl run. Ran with what had to be the shortest, choppiest steps of any player in league history, but somehow it worked for him.

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16. Ron Borges pegged him as "a slow dwarf" when Bobby Grier took him in the first round in '97. Turned out he was dead-on with that one. The only thing this Kansas State product mastered was the art of dancing like a jackass after making a tackle on a 10-yard gain on third-and-9.

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17. Another blown pick in '97, this third-rounder out of Iowa had a 71-yard run in '98. To be honest, I don't remember him running for 71 yards in his Pats' career. Derrick Cullors and Corey Croom were better backs, and Marrio Grier was close.

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18. Drafted in the first round the same season the Jaguars took Fred Taylor, I'm assuming the picture is hint enough as to this ill-fated running back's identity.

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19. Ah, remember the days when the WEEI banshees used to yowl that this speedy, rocket-armed, completely clueless third-string quarterback should be playing ahead of Drew Bledsoe? Little did they know that it was the scrawny fourth stringer who would become the superstar.

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20. Overhyped, fast but stiff linebacker probably peaked as a player in his freshman year at Ohio State. One of two first-round picks in '99 (Damien Woody was the other), he walked away from football before the '02 season after spending '01 on injured reserve with a neck injury. He always struck me as a guy whose talent was something of a curse; he never seemed to actually like the sport he was blessed to play.

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21. Had 814 catches in a 17-year career - including five in a five-game cameo with the Pats in '98. (Full disclosure: I completely forgot he played here.)

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22. A run-stuffing linebacker with a reputation as a lunatic, he was an important and respected elder on the franchise's first Super Bowl champion; his skull-rattling hit on the Colts' Jerome Pathon helped set the take-no-prisoners tone during that impossibly magical season.

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23. A strapping 6-foot-4, 220-pound receiver with sprinter's speed, about the only time he was open was when he admitted he struggled to learn the playbook. Finished with just 12 catches in '02, his one season with the Pats and his last in the league.

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24. Ridiculously touted as "the next Jerry Rice" when the Niners traded up to choose him in the first round out of UCLA in '95, he was too slow to become an elite receiver in the NFL and averaged just 12.6 yards per catch as a pro. Finished his nine-year career with the '03 Pats, making two catches in two games, including, improbably, a 31-yarder.

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25. This fullback caught 826 passes in his NFL career, the most by a non-receiver in league history. Had 19 receptions for 106 yards with '03 Pats, then retired after 15 pro seasons following that championship season.

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My apologies for the lack of posts the past week. Well . . . not really. I'm on vacation - my first extended one in about four years - and I've been taking it seriously, mostly by taking lots of naps. I've made the effort to stay the hell away from the computer other than to work on some freelance stuff. Recharged, I am hoping to post some thoughts on that lying sack of doughnuts Clemens, the Pats/Jags, and anything else that crosses my chick-pea of a mind on Friday, so be sure to check back in then, and thanks for tolerating the hiatus. - TATB Management

The Ultimate, All-Time, Wicked Awesome, New England Patriots Player Quiz (Part 1)

2008-01-02T20:42:00.000-05:00

Now that the Patriots have completed their perfect regular season, the bandwagon is overloaded with novice fans who want to enjoy the party. That's cool with us - we're all inclusive here at TATB, accepting of the pink hats or whatever it is we're supposed to call you. (Pink helmets? Er, no, that's probably not it.)

But just for the sport of it, we've come up with a quiz to test the Patriots acumen of you newbies, as well anyone else who wants to give it a shot. Here's how it works: We'll give you a picture of a past Patriot, along with a brief comment or two that should strongly hint at the player's identity. The order is more or less chronological, and a link in each bio will take you to that player's football-reference.com page should you need to confirm ID.

For longtime Pats fans - those of us who remember, say, Fred Smerlas as an All-Pro defensive tackle long before he became the "Messin' With Sasquatch" stunt double who appears on Channel 7 on Sunday nights - this should be as easy as an extra point. For the rest of you . . . well, we'll find out. As for the grading scale, let's break it down like this:

21-25 correct: Brilliant as usual, Mr. Pioli.

16-20: A Dick Steinberg disciple. No shame in that.

11-15: See ya, in Miami, Tuna. And please leave Chris Long for us on draft day, okay?

6-10: Is that you, Bobby Grier? Must have sneaked up the back stairs.

1-5: Scurry back to college, Jankovich. You're way out of your league here.

0: Wait a minute, you're no GM! You're Andy Gresh! Scram! No shrill, FloBee-cut doofuses allowed!

All right, sports fans, it's time. Get out those No. 2 pencils and remember, no cheat sheets (or media guides) allowed. The clock starts . . . now:

1. Two of this respected former running back's sons are currently prominent in the Boston sports media. The elder of them probably should wear a helmet at all times.

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2. For the old timers, this classy wide receiver/kicker/broadcaster is the iconic Patriot, Mr. Brady included. I can't imagine anyone doing a more dignified job of representing the franchise all these years.

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3. This popular and affable quarterback had his share of success in the NFL, mostly with the Vikings, despite throwing mechanics that would make Garo Yepremian snicker.

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4. Former No. 1 overall pick took a beating and struggled mightily with the Pats (8 TDs, 25 INTs in '72), but later found Super Bowl redemption with Al Davis's band of rogues in Oakland and L.A.

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5. Receiver found greatest success with Cleveland Browns; in retirement, he had a brief, comically disastrous stint as a color commentator on Cleveland Indians telecasts, once suggesting that if he were the manager, he'd play one of the outfielders behind the catcher to prevent passed balls. (Seriously - read about it here.)

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6. One of the most versatile running backs the Patriots have ever had, he completed 7 of 9 passes, four for touchdowns, in '81.

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7. It's probably safe to assume he does not, and never will, send Ben Dreith a Christmas card.

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8. My old man still insists he was a better tight end than Kellen Winslow Sr.; Winslow had 148 more receptions (541-393), but the Chargers Hall of Famer didn't block like the player Howard Cosell memorably labeled "All-World."

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9. In 1976, the Patriots ran for a staggering 2,948 yards; he ran for 721 of them second on the team to Sam Cunningham, and averaged a league-best 5.6 yards per carry.

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10. He's probably the only former NFL player who could be excused for watching "The View."

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11. Averaged over 20 yards per catch for the first six seasons of his 13-year career, during which he caught 557 passes for 10,716 yards. Why he doesn't merit more consideration from the NFL Hall of Fame voters remains a mystery to this day.

* * *

12. You can have "Prime Time" Sanders, "Night Train" Lane, and any other cleverly nicknamed defensive back you want to consider. For our money, this eight-time All-Pro is the best cornerback in league history, and it's a shame he spent just half of his 14 seasons in New England.

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13. Speedster from Oklahoma ran for 11 touchdowns and 4.9 yards per carry in '78 and he was a hell of a kick returner, too, but knee problems abbreviated his promising career. On the plus side, he may have the coolest name in Patriots history . . .

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14. . . . and if he doesn't, then this guy, a briefly effective former No. 1 pick out of Notre Dame, does.

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15. In 1979, the veteran receiver caught 45 passes for 1,013 yards, an average of 22.5 per catch - at age 33. Steve Grogan sure did love to throw the deep ball, didn't he? Different game then.

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16. An outstanding bookend to Andre Tippett at outside linebacker, he had his career cut short by a neck injury four games into the '87 season. Is now in his 18th season as an NFL assistant coach, currently with the Chiefs.

* * *

17. Common perception is that he's the biggest sissy ever to throw a pass for the Patriots - John Hannah's suggestion that "he should be wearing a dress back there" certainly didn't help his reputation - but he actually had a fine '86 season as the Patriots won the AFC East title. Yeah, he may have gone fetal at the first sign of a pass rush, but he's not the worst quarterback the Patriots ever had - though in retrospect, Dan Marino might have been a wiser pick in the '83 draft.

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18. This talented but oft-injured running back's brother, Chris, played briefly for the Red Sox in '95. If you follow college football, you probably see him every Saturday on TV; he's carved out a successful second career as an analyst and commentator.

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19. Bulled his way to 1,168 rushing yards and a Pro Bowl bid in '88, but was unpopular with teammates and never ran with quite the same fury after a helmet-to-helmet collision with the Niners' Jeff Fuller left the standout safety partially paralyzed.

* * *

20. Must . . . resist . . . Patriot Missile . . . jokes . . .

* * *

21. Talented, troubled No. 1 pick in '89 just fractured his leg in three places while reading this.

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22. Menacing tackling machine was one of few standouts on some truly wretched Patriots teams, but creaky knees ended his career at age 30 just when Parcells was turning the franchise around. No one ever said professional sports is fair.

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23. A first-round pick by the Red Sox out of Brockton High, he instead chose to attend Michigan on a football scholarship. Was it the right choice? Hard to say. We never found out if he could hit a curveball, but we did learn he wasn't particularly gifted at catching a football. His NFL ended after 4 1/2 nondescript seasons.

* * *

24. The one that got away. Allowing Parcells to steal him away was the biggest personnel mistake the Patriots have made since Bob Kraft bought the team. But hey, at least they kept Todd Rucci.

* * *

25. Second-round pick in '98 was the Bethel Johnson of his time - he could take your breath away with his pure speed, but struggled with the other, more complex requirements of an NFL receiver, such as running the correct routes and catching the damn football. My goodness, I just described Chad Jackson, too, didn't I? Yikes. He's doomed.

* * *

Okay, that's all we've got for now, but hopefully we'll do this again soon. In the meantime, study up - especially if you happen to be a certain member of the Patriots' radio pregame show. You know who you are.

Three and out

2008-01-01T02:29:00.001-05:00

Three quick digressions while wishing Brian Billick a happy new year . . .

1. This season puts to rest any latte-brained notion by the likes of Peter King that Randy Moss is anything but a shoo-in for the Hall of Fame. Even with his past transgressions considered - yes, we know it's not very nice to consider turning a meter maid into a speed bump, as tempting as it may be - Moss's rightful place among the game's legends is officially unassailable, even by the cynics who determine who will be enshrined in Canton. Hell, as unappealing as I found Moss until he brought his ungodly talent and odd charisma to my favorite team (funny how that works), I thought his Hall of Fame case was made long ago, for this reason: He has made the careers of more barely competent people than any player in the history of the league. He's the reason Billick was able to dupe people into believing he was an offensive mastermind, when in truth he couldn't pick a quarterback out of a lineup of Mannings. He's the reason unreliable Randall Cunningham enjoyed an improbable late-career renaissance. He's the reason sniveling Jeff George briefly looked like a quarterback a team could win with. He's the reason we thought Daunte Culpepper was a versatile and talented passer rather than just a clueless chucker. Now, not even Moss could make Aaron Brooks and Art Shell look competent, but I don't have to tell you that he his role in Tom Brady's record-shattering season - and the potentially unprecedented success of this 16-0 football team - cannot be exaggerated. Moss might be complicated and moody and many other things, but there's no deny his track record: he's one of the single most valuable players in the recent history of the league. Just ask those who owe their careers to his talent.

2. Okay, got a ridiculous hypothetical for you. Say the NFL disbanded all of its teams and started fresh, throwing all of its players, coaches, general managers, cheerleaders, and so on into one massive dispersal draft. (Hey, I told you it was ridiculous.) My question: Who do you think the first pick from the league's entire pool of talent would be? Peyton Manning? Tom Brady? Adrian Peterson? Kyle Orton? Or would it not be a player, but a certain coach? To put it another way: Is Bill Belichick the single most valuable person in the National Football League? I have to say, the more I consider this, the more convinced I become that choosing him to run your franchise would be a much wiser selection than taking any one superstar player in the league, the two franchise quarterbacks included.

3. Finally, an overdue tip of the ol' leather helmet to our favorite football curmudgeon, Sports Illustrated's Dr. Z. When he's not telling us how football was better in his day, swigging Metamucil by the gallon, or yelling at those %*&$& kids to get off his lawn, he remains an astute football analyst. We made a mental note at midseason season when he insisted that the Patriots' Logan Mankins, largely anonymous outside of Foxborough at the time, was playing better than any guard in the league, Minnesota's Steve Hutchinson included. Now that Mankins is getting his due as an elite lineman, with his first Pro Bowl bid, we figure we should give credit where credit is due. Dr. Z saw it before anyone else. (And for the record, I still don't believe Mel Kiper knew who Mankins was on draft day '05. I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he does now.)

* * *

Programming note: Be sure to check in Wednesday, when we'll have a silly little photographic quiz posted that will test your acumen as a Pats fan. Heck, I'll even give you a hint - at least one correct answer will be "Horace Ivory." Because honestly, what good is a Pats quiz without a cat named Horace? No good, that's what.

First and 10: Perfection

2007-12-29T23:29:00.000-05:00

1. So there you have it: 16-0. History. Perfection. The impossible as reality. The 2007 New England Patriots are the single greatest team in NFL history . . . during the regular season. You, me, and a certain gridiron genius in a gray hoodie realize that this team's true legacy will be determined in the next three games. The Patriots will either go down as the best team ever in professional football . . . or the best team in professional football that didn't win the Super Bowl. The difference there is bigger than Vince Wilfork's backside. But there are two weeks before that next football game, two weeks before the first chapter in Three Games To Glory, Vol. 4 is recorded, and right now is the time to savor what this impossibly brilliant team has accomplished up to this point. We'll begin with all the glittering numbers - Tom Brady's 50 touchdown passes, Randy Moss's 23 touchdown catches, the league records for points (589 . . . 589!) and touchdowns (75) - but you know what makes these Patriots truly special, and perhaps unique in the annals of professional football? An uncanny knack for always - always, always, always - making the play they need to make at the moment they need to make it; just ask the Colts, or the Ravens, or the Eagles, or the oh-so-close Giants tonight. I do not need to tell you that so much of that magic in the clutch is because of the unflappable quarterback, and while I feel obligated to attempt to say something profound about Brady right now, I'm struggling mightily to find the words to do justice to what he has accomplished so far this season. Brady finished 32 for 42 for 356 yards and two touchdowns tonight against a Giants team that made him earn every single yard (so much for resting their players). And yet, even as the Patriots fell behind by their largest deficit of the season, 12 points, there was little doubt that No. 12 would make sure his team would emerge with the victory. The best I can offer is that Brady - whom I considered on par with Joe Montana as the finest quarterback of all time even before this year's statistical explosion - has become one of those elite athletes, like Montana, Michael Jordan, Bill Russell and so very few others - who can be properly described as transcendent. With three more victories, the same term will apply to his team.

2. The Giants have a well-deserved reputation as one of the most maddening teams in the NFL - one week they can look like a legitimate contender in the NFC, and the next week they'll look as hapless as the '76 Buccaneers. That said, my respect for them grew considerably tonight. Their defense came to play, outhitting the Patriots in the first half and landing good, clean shots on Prince Charles all night, and I was also impressed with running back Brandon Jacobs, whose relentless style caused the Patriots to miss countless tackles, especially in the brutally physical first half. (He left tire tracks on Rodney Harrison on more than one occasion.) And while I'm reluctant to praise the Lesser of the Mannings given that the Patriots have had their problems with the inept likes of Kyle Boller and A.J. Feeley lately, I must admit that Eli showed me something tonight. I'm not saying he'll ever escape his brother's shadow, and he may never justify being the No. 1 overall pick, but he played well enough to put up 28 offensive points on a 15-0 team tonight, and for that he deserves credit. Besides, he's not nearly as sorry as Philip Rivers, the all-talk, no-action QB he was, in effect, traded for. Of course, now that we praise them, they'll go and lose to Tampa Bay by two touchdowns next weekend. There's a reason Tom Coughlin looks so tense.

3. I was surprised to see on the stat sheet that Laurence Maroney finished with just 46 yards on 19 carries. Maybe his performance was exaggerated in my mind by the two rushing touchdowns, including the clincher in the final minutes, but I was very impressed with him tonight, and during the last couple of games, really. He's been running violently, and with perhaps as much determination as he has since the beginning of his rookie season, and while I think some of the criticism he has absorbed this season comes from people who always need something to complain about, I am convinced that someone - a coach, a teammate, one of the dudes with a musket - got to him recently and convinced him that he needs to toughen up and bring his game to the next level if this team is going to win a Super Bowl.

4. Brady's double-record-breaking touchdown pass to Moss, a 65-yard bomb with a little more than 11 minutes remaining, was just as aesthetically pleasing as we dared imagine it would be, and that it was the go-ahead score seemed appropriate. There are, of course, certain other on-field matters to be settled before we even begin to consider who will be back with this team next season and who won't be, but I have to say right now that it's absolutely imperative that the Patriots bring Moss back next year even with the higher sticker price. After watching him, I've been completely spoiled, and no other receiver can possibly compare. The circus can't leave town just yet, you know?

5. He might not be the single toughest Patriots pound-for-pound - at the moment, I think that title must go to one Wesley Welker, who finishes the regular season with 112 catches, or one for every pound he weighs - but is there any Patriots fan who isn't thoroughly impressed by Kevin Faulk right now? In his younger days he used to make you nervous because of his penchant for putting the ball on the ground at the worst times, but at this point in his career, he's become the running back version of Troy Brown, the undersized, underestimated guy who never fails to deliver a huge play when the moment demands it. Tonight he had eight catches for 64 yards, and as usual, a couple of his catch-and-run receptions gained crucial first downs. Faulk's one of those guys, like Brown or Steve Nelson or Steve Grogan or Willie McGinest, who we'll remember with increasing fondness as the years pass.

6. I'm sure we'll hear the usual vaguely insulting words associated with Bill Belichick over the next few days and weeks - humorless, bland, dour, frumpy, stoic, emotionless, unsentimental, cold, and so on - but the man sure looked pretty damn happy to me as he embraced his players as the clock wound down on history. I've said it before and I'll say it again: That Belichick is reluctant to share his human side with the media does not detract from the reality, which is this: He's might be the most compelling person in the entire league, he has more players and coaches who are immensely loyal to him than any coach I can think of with the possible exception of Bill Parcells, and to pigeonhole him as some sort of android just because he is uncooperative or wary is the act of someone who would rather settle for a cliche than put the effort in to find the complicated truth.

7. Know who led the Patriots in tackles tonight? Harrison? Always a good guess, but No. 37 (who was particularly, um, "animated" tonight) was second with six stops. Mike Vrabel? Again a good guess, but he had just two (and one huge onsides kick recovery). Ellis Hobbs? A good sleeper pick, for he always seems to be hauling down a receiver after a reception, but he also had six tackles, five solo. Ready for the answer? Brandon Meriweather, with seven, six solo. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what that means - does Belichick trust him more in the base defense now than he did a few weeks ago, or were his stats enhanced by playing special teams? - but it's certainly encouraging that this year's first-round pick suddenly is showing signs that he will live up to his advance billing, and it couldn't happen at a better time. The more playmakers the Patriots have, the better, especially against the looming Colts.

8. I'm not saying I'm shocked that Giants punter Jeff Feagles is still employed in the NFL, but it fairly amazing that this is the same guy who impressed few while averaging a measly 38.3 yards per kick for the 1988 Patriots. Being a punter is a nice and lucrative life if you can get it. (Somewhere, Sean Landeta nods in agreement.)

9. I'm just going to assume that the new and alarming holes in the usually stellar kick coverage team were due to the absence of special teams aces Willie Andrews and Kyle Eckel, and that it's something Brad Seely will have properly repaired by the time the Patriots take the field again. (And that concludes tonight's B**** About Something Minor Minute. Thank you for joining us, and please visit us again in two weeks when we attempt to urinate on another parade.)

10. As for today's Completely Random Football Card:

You know, I was all set revel in the fact that it's finally time for the ubiquitous Mr. Morris to shut up and go home, but after hearing his hilariously oblivious humiliation of Fred Smerlas and Steve DeOssie on WEEI this week ("Did you guys ever play football? Didya?"), the crazy old Dolphin is all right in my book. Don Shula, however . . . now there's someone who can just shut up and go home.

Free and easy (down the road)

2007-12-27T00:22:00.000-05:00

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free half-formed thoughts for you . . .

1. While the Merril Hoge's of the world continue to spew their concussed nonsense about some "blueprint" to beat the Pats, I have to say that I'm actually more confident that they're going to run the table than I have been all season. Here's why: 1) Laurence Maroney is running with more determination and ferocity than I can recall seeing since the beginning of his rookie season. 2) Richard Seymour looks fully healthy for the first time this season, Tedy Bruschi is suddenly rejuvenated and running around like a madman again, and long-lost Eugene Wilson appears to be regaining his usefulness, meaning that their defense is peaking at the perfect time. 3) I have complete faith that once the postseason arrives and every throw matters again, Tom Brady will stop trying to play pitch-and-catch with Randy Moss even when No. 81 is quintuple covered, and the entire passing offense will again become viciously efficient and prolific.

2. A subtlety smart move the Patriots made last season: signing Jabar Gaffney to a two-year contract after he got cut by the Eagles. One other thing about TATB's new football binky: in 2005 with the Texans, he caught 55 passes for 492 yards . . . resulting in a puny 8.9 average. I can't think of a receiver ever having a lower YPC during a productive season. I suppose that's what you'd call the David Carr Effect.

3. Jon Beason, the Miami linebacker we thought the Patriots would take in the first round, is third in the NFL in tackles (130) in his rookie season with Carolina. Another rookie who was long gone before the Pats picked - San Francisco dynamo Patrick Willis - leads the league with 162 tackles, and Jets freshman David Harris is tied for 10th (115). I'm not going to pretend I know how well any of these players would fit the Patriots' system, but from my uneducated perspective it sure looks like the past draft would have been a fine time to take that young linebacker they're going to need in the coming seasons.

4. The Celtics' three losses are a two-point loss at Orlando, a five-point overtime loss at Cleveland, and two-point loss to Detroit - three very winnable games. I'm not saying they would be 26-0 - there are certainly a couple they have won that they could have lost - but they're a lot closer to perfection that most of us realize.

5. The Miami Heat is 8-21, the worst record in the Eastern Conference. Pat Riley, never one to stick it out at the expense of his career winning percentage, should be resigning from "exhaustion" any day now.

6. I hope Dan Shaughnessy is correct in his column today and this is the year Jim Rice, the Sox' slugging superhero in my first seasons as a fan, gets the call from Cooperstown. But I just can't convince myself enough voters will change their minds on him the season to put him over the 75 percent threshold.

7. I'm skeptical that the Sox's interest in Johan Santana is 100 percent genuine as it is - I'm fairly certain they just want to see Hank the Tank cave in and give up Hughes and Kennedy - but the thing that makes me really believe they won't make this trade is the ace lefty's request for a seven-year, $140 million deal. There is simply no way Theo Epstein agrees to pay any pitcher $20 million dollars per season at age 35, let alone one who will cost a collection of fine prospects in trade and who showed subtle signs of decline at 28.

8. Wonder how baseball's version of George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley feel about each other these days. Andy Pettitte's admission that he tried HGH was basically an indictment of Roger Clemens, his longtime teammate and workout buddy. Pettitte, to his credit, took the honest way out. Clemens called his lawyers, sought out Steinbrenner crony Mike Wallace to interview him, and issued a string of non-denial denials. Pretty much what you'd expect from both of them, actually.

9. Just when I start wondering if karma is nothing but a convoluted way for people to convince themselves that the cruel injustices of the world will eventually be righted, Clemens's career ends with him hobbling off the mound in a losing cause, then has his reputation and baseball resume irreparably damaged by his very own cheatin' heart. And then, oddly enough, I find myself a believer in such a concept again.

10. As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

Because sometimes, it really is random.

Merry Christmas from the discarded wrapping paper capital of the world

2007-12-25T22:49:00.000-05:00

You know, I'd like to say the Brady jersey his grampy got him was the boy's favorite Christmas gift, but at the moment he seems extremely partial to a light pink doll stroller that matches the one his big sister got.

Gee, thanks, Santa. No . . . really.

Ah, you know I kid. While my Marinovich-like NFL stage-dad dreams are dashed for now, I of course adore my dolly-lovin' boy boundlessly. Besides, his sister is the tallest kid in her class, runs like Forrest Gump on a sugar high, and can catch a football with her hands - and she's only 3 1/2! Heck, Terrell Owens can't even catch the ball with his hands yet, and he's in his 30s (but 3 1/2 mentally, obviously). She'll be getting recruiting letters from Pete Carroll any day now, I just know it.

Anyway . . .

All of us at TATB (meaning, um, me) just want to wish those of you who stop here regularly (or even in a drunken stupor every now and then) a joyous holiday season. You make this fun rather than work, and for that I'm grateful. Celebrate, be safe, and be sure to check back in later in the week for more of our patented ridiculousness.

Peace,
CF of TATB

I said the audience was heavenly/But the traveling was hell

2007-12-20T03:39:00.000-05:00

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free non-denial denials from 'Roidin' Roger for you . . .

1. Since sometime around, oh, the final 1/10th of a second in the loss to Detroit, I've been trying to come up with a Celtics player from the last 20 years or so who is as dumb on the basketball court as Tony Allen. (Maybe dumb is too harsh a word. Erratic? Untrustworthy? Instinctively challenged? Maddening? Nope, dumb's the word.) The best/worst I can come up with is Ray Williams, the scattershot former Knick who had a 23-game cameo with the Celts in 1984-85. Williams was ridiculously out of control - his approach to offense could be described as "jump 'n' fling" - but in a much more entertaining way than Allen, who always seems to make a mistake that everyone in the building but him sees coming. The kid does try, and he has above-average physical talent when he's knee is right, but I don't know if he'll ever overcome his negative basketball IQ. Right now, he's the basketball version of Bethel Johnson.

2. I still say Johan Santana ends up in pinstripes, once one of these repetitive reports claiming the Red Sox remain the frontrunner for the ace lefthander actually convinces Hank "Boy George" Steinbrenner to overrule Brian Cashman and include Ian Kennedy along with Philip Hughes. The Yankees need him, they can afford him, and they will get him. And frankly, I'm just fine with that.

3. Man, the Tuna just can't stay away from the action, can he? I guess that's what you should expect from someone who lives in Saratoga. I think we all agree, however, that ESPN's loss is the league's gain - the NFL is just plain more entertaining when Bill Parcells is involved. The Dolphins certainly fit his mode of operation - he always seems to take over a team that appears to be at rock-bottom, but one that owns valuable assets (in this case, Ronnie Brown and the No. 1 pick). Then, he will clean house of the miscreants, bring in a few of His Guys and savvy vets (this is the perfect home for Chad Pennington), and voila, he looks like a genius when the team goes 8-8. Hey, we never said he wasn't shrewd, and of course it'll be fascinating to watch him go head-to-head with former underling Bill Belichick these next few seasons. I'm sure it's a kick to his massive ego that some now wonder whether Belichick was the real mastermind of the Giants' two Super Bowl victories.

4. I'm not sure Gary Payton has enough left in the tank to help the Celtics on the court - I don't trust anyone older than me to play point guard in the NBA, and for all of his wisdom he might be a little too, um, direct to mentor Rajon Rondo - but it's worth remembering that he's indirectly made an immense contribution to this team already. Payton, you'll recall, was one of the players Kevin Garnett consulted while doing his legwork on Boston before deciding he'd be willing to come here, and the artist formerly known as the Glove apparently had nothing but good things to say about his time here. Hell, maybe Danny Ainge should reward him with that open roster spot for that alone.

5. Mark these words: Sportsman of the Year/Peter King Mancrush Brett Favre will cough up a hairball in a playoff game (two dumb picks, minimum), and some team (New York? Tampa Bay?) that none of the experts think can beat the Packers will. Favre's renaissance this year has been a joy to watch, but it stuns me how often he'll throw the ball up for grabs rather than hanging in there and taking a hit. The likes of King are too busy fawning over him to notice that he's not quite the gritty, gutty gunslinger he's made out to be - he's a guy with some savvy, a strong arm, an overwhelming instinct to protect his own hide, and a better supporting cast than anyone realized. That won't be enough.

6. Is there a more underrated play-by-play announcer in any sport, locally or on the national scene, than the Celtics' Mike Gorman? His unassuming style makes it very easy to take him for granted, but he's a total pro, has great pipes and an unobtrusive catchphrase or two ("Pierce . . . count it!"), and gets extra credit for keeping Heinsohn from mauling an official all these years. The only Boston play-by-play guy I enjoy nearly as much is Gil Santos, and at this point he's slipped so much that should ol' No. 80, Troy Brown, catch a pass this Sunday, I fully expect he will be identified as older No. 80, Irving Fryar.

7. Geez, maybe this kid is the backup point guard the Celtics need. Check out Sebastian Telfair's line tonight in the Kevin McHale T-Wolves' 131-118 win over the Larry Bird Pacers: 48 minutes, 11-18 from the field, 5-5 from the line, 27 points, 11 assists, 1 turnover. To be honest, I'm not sure what to make of it - the gem could be a sign he's growing into his talent, or it could be just another tease - but I do find myself rooting for him for some reason. Sure, he's had his share of trouble and controversy, most of it self-inflicted, but he strikes me as a generally decent kid who puts the work in and wants to do the right thing, and that can't come easily for him considering one of his lifelong role models is his cousin, Stephon Marbury.

8. According to longtime reader Jill H., OK! Magazine - the gossip rag that all but locked up a Pulitzer with its groundbreaking coverage of Britney's sister's pregnancy - is reporting that Official Muse of TATB (Non-Wife Division) Jenna Fischer is dating . . . David Spade. You know, David Spade: the Chris Farley-leeching, Hermey-the-dentist-looking, mean-spirited, smarmy little actor who happens to be the reason Eddie Murphy refuses to appear on "Saturday Night Live." Yeah . . . him. I'm holding out hope that OK! is not the bastion of journalistic integrity I believe it to be and that this will be proved false, but for now it seems appropriate to quote Jim Halpert here: Congratulations, universe. You win.

9. I have to admit, I had second, third, and fourth thoughts about my criticism of those national baseball writers and analysts who raced to defend the players in the immediate aftermath of the Mitchell Report while simultaneously disregarding their own Three Blind Mice role in this entire epic mess. Part of the reason was that I realized that if I were in their position, as someone who had a Blackberry full of contacts and genuine insider access, I too might be reluctant to risk becoming a professional pariah for the sake of a story that would devastate a game that means so much to me. I suppose that means I'd be a lousy investigative reporter, but I have to admit, it's probably the truth. It also dawned on me that there were some extremely accomplished reporters - T.J. Quinn of the Daily News and now ESPN comes to mind - who were on the case constantly and yet couldn't entirely crack it, so maybe I was foolish to think any old big-time baseball writer with an ounce of ambition could. That said, it's worth noting that one of the writers I ripped understood my take. Here's what Peter Gammons said in an email a few days after the post:

Very fair criticism. I do feel that the way Mitchell threw names out there was sloppy . . . and I am one who cannot bring myself to presume guilt without some proof in the cases of the assumed. I love the sport and I enjoy the players, and I am wrestling with the fairness of a handful of players being found guilty when the entire industry was apparently infected. I'm glad I have five years to decide on my Hall of Fame ballot. [But} the defrauding of all baseball records is sad, not for me who really doesn't care that much about records, but for the millions who do. Again, thanks for being fair.

Hey, no matter how you feel about his point of view, you have to give Gammons some credit for admitting some culpability. Most people of his professional stature would begin an email to the likes of me with something along the lines of "Dear lowly maggot peon know-nothing basement-dwelling mom-snuggling blogger: Go %*$%*%*#@$*ourself and your little dog too." And that probably includes some people I work with.

10. As for today's Completely Random Football Card:

Hard to believe considering he'd still rank among my five or six all-time favorite Patriots (and a runaway No. 1 among athletes I've interviewed), but I kinda forgot Lawyer Milloy was still in the league until he publicly shredded, spindled and mutilated that slippery weasel Bobby Petrino after he abandoned the Falcons to go scurrying back to college. Milloy doesn't strike me as a guy who has a lot of regrets, and his bank account certainly justifies any career decisions he has made, but I always thought of him as an athlete who made winning his No. 1 priority, and I wonder if he's ever lamented the way his Patriots career came to an end.

The weather outside is frightful (except in Foxboro, apparently)

2007-12-16T12:55:00.001-05:00

Two quick comments and a link before I round up the sled dogs and head for Boston . . .

1. I'm not saying I think there's much of a chance the Pats will see their vengeful quest for an unbeaten season end today, but I do worry that the weather could be the great equalizer in this thing. Thomas Jones strikes me as a better bad-weather back than Laurence Maroney, and the absence of Ben Watson could be problematic for both the running and passing games. Where are Snow Bowl superstars Jermaine Wiggins and J.R. Redmond when you need them? (And as I'm writing this, I turn on the TV and there's not a snowflake on the playing field. What the . . . Well, disregard that previous braying nonsense. Ours are going to kill theirs.)

2. The more I think about it, the more I realize the Mitchell Report - and the ensuing press conference by that dead-fish Bud Selig, who might be the only person on earth with negative charisma - was little more than a dog-and-pony show designed to make it appear as if baseball had gotten tough and solved its performance-enhancing drug problem. In truth, though, the report doesn't tell us anything we didn't already know or strongly suspect, and it is curious that there were no star-caliber players revealed whose names hadn't already been associated with PEDs. Baseball spent $20 million - at the minimum - to tell us that Bart Miadich and Adam Riggs juiced, and yet they seem to consider it money well spent. Ask me, the accounting - and accountability - doesn't add up.

As for the link . . . Friend of TATB Tom E. Curran has a thoroughly enjoyable, lighthearted and yet insightful interview with the Grey Hoodied One on NBC. You can tell Belichick gets a kick out of Curran, who takes a quirky approach to trying to get answers from the coach. (From a recent press conference: Curran: "Bill, who was your favorite ball boy when you were with the Browns?" Belichick, smirking: "How long did it take you to come up with that one.") Anyway, check it out. Curran, formerly of the ProJo, is as good as it gets on the national scene, and unlike some of his peers, he doesn't have a barely repressed Brett Favre fetish (that we know of, anyway).

I don't like the drugs but the drugs like me

2007-12-13T12:33:00.001-05:00

Sifting through the Mitchell Report while apologizing to Dan Duquette for all the snide "twilight of his career" jokes through the years. I hope the Duke is savoring his hour of redemption . . .

* * *

While all of this makes for juicy (no pun intended, honest) gossip and compelling reading, I have a hard time getting worked up by George Mitchell's "findings"; hell, to me the most shocking developments in the report were that Nook Logan's real name is Exavier and that Roger Clemens was too a-scared to stick a needle in his bellybutton, the big sissy. Exavier - that's just some awesome naming skills by his mom. Otherwise, this thing was short on genuine revelations, and pretty damn far from complete; as far as I can tell, Mitchell's four primary sources were Kirk Radomski, the Jason Grimsley case, the BALCO scandal, and one of those online pharmacies the Feds busted. The tip of the iceberg? Hell, that's not even an ice cube. Anyone with clear eyes and more than a shred of common sense realized seasons ago that the use of performance enhancing drugs in major league baseball was approaching epidemic proportions. (To no one's surprise, Bud Selig, who wore his familiar look of permanent constipation yesterday, was not among those with a clue.) And while the names Clemens and Pettitte and Tejada were splashed all over the news yesterday, their involvement in PEDs really wasn't news, per se. It was merely a confirmation of accusations, rumors, and innuendo we've all heard before about those particular players. What was interesting was the amount of never-weres and who's-hes? on this list. Phil Hiatt and Adam Piatt? (I always thought they were the same guy.) Bart Miadich? (Who?) Adam Riggs? (And you are?) In a way, I feel for these guys, the anonymous minor league lifers who tried the stuff out of desperation to secure a big league job and the life-altering riches than can accompany it; juxtaposed with another headline on ESPN yesterday - AROD, YANKEES FINALIZE $275M DEAL - the by-any-means-necessary approach makes all the sense in the world. I'm not saying it's right. But I'm not saying I wouldn't have done it myself, either, if my dream was so close and yet so far.

* * *

I think I've made my fanboy admiration for Peter Gammons plainly obvious here during the three years this blog has existed. I've often said that I am in the business in large part because of the happiness his coverage of the Red Sox had on me as a kid, and to have him become a friend of this site is one of the unexpected bonuses of this gig. So it's . . .. disappointing to see him acting as a blatant and blind apologist for the players. Yesterday, in an apparent attempt to puncture holes in Mitchell's credibility in any manner possible, he actually said he expects there will a be a lot of defamation lawsuits. C'mon now, Commish. You know how many defamation lawsuits there will be? Just as many as there were after Rafael Palmeiro threatened one when he was caught: Zero. Sadly, Gammons and a number of his peers put a higher priority on protecting their own interests, namely a level of access granted only to the true insiders, than they did on protecting the greater good of the game. I put Tim "See No Needle, Hear No Needle" Kurkjian in the same category, too, and even today, in a column that was typically entertaining and balanced, Jayson Stark gave the benefit of the doubt to players who do not deserve it. Only Buster Olney, who admitted to his embarrassment over his profession's culpability in this a long time ago, seems concerned about maintaining journalistic integrity. Which brings me to their employer. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that ESPN barely acknowledged its uncomfortable proximity to several aspects of this story - John Kruk was a teammate of Lenny Dykstra on the notorious '93 Phillies, Steve Phillips was the Mets' freakin' GM when Radomski was apparently running a CVS pharmacy out of the clubhouse, and "Baseball Tonight" analyst Fernando Vina was actually named in the damn thing. I'll say this for the so-called Worldwide Leader: they are incredibly adept at covering a story and covering their own asses at the same time.

* * *

You know Theo Epstein just loves having his internal memos available for public consumption, and I'm sure by now you know to what I'm referencing: the documentation about the Sox's suspicions regarding Eric Gagné's pharmaceutical habits. Here's how it appeared in the report:

"When the Boston Red Sox were considering acquiring Gagné, a Red Sox official made specific inquiries about Gagné’s possible use of steroids. In a November 1, 2006 email to a Red Sox scout, general manager Theo Epstein asked, “Have you done any digging on Gagne? I know the Dodgers think he was a steroid guy. Maybe so. What do you hear on his medical?”

"The scout, Mark Delpiano, responded, Some digging on Gagné and steroids IS the issue. Has had a checkered medical past throughout career including minor leagues. Lacks the poise and commitment to stay healthy, maintain body and re invent self. What made him a tenacious closer was the max effort plus stuff . . . Mentality without the plus weapons and without steroid help probably creates a large risk in bounce back durability and ability to throw average while allowing the changeup to play as it once did . . . Personally, durability (or lack of) will follow Gagné."

Gagné was atop anyone's list of suspects - he went from a doughy fifth starter type to a pumped-and-jacked terror of a closer overnight, then suffered the requisite ligament, tendon, and back injuries often associated with PEDs - and it's funny how the Sox scout basically attributes all of his success to steroid use. Forget knowing what we know now about Gagné. Knowing what they knew then, why did they ever trade for him? And how much buyer's remorse is Doug Melvin having at the moment?

* * *

Brendan Donnelly might be slightly embarrassed about this whole thing, I suppose, but I can't imagine he will ever have a moment of real regret. Think about it. Here's a guy who bounced around every conceivable minor league for 10 seasons, pitching in such whistlestops as Chattanooga, Nashua, Altoona, and Winston-Salem, without ever getting a shot at the big leagues other than an ill-considered stint on a replacement roster during the '94 strike. But out of nowhere, at age 31, he gets called up to the Angels in '02 and puts up a 2.17 ERA for the world champs, then the next season posts an astounding 1.58 ERA in 63 games. Hmmm. It's pretty clear he did something around that time that dramatically altered the course of his career, a career, we should mention, that has netted him $3,470,000 as a big leaguer. Something tells me the pay wasn't quite so good as an Arkansas Traveler. It's fair to say Donnelly never would have established himself as a major leaguer had he not decided to get some chemical assistance.

* * *

I have a newfound respect for Frank Thomas, the only active player other than the disgraced Jason Giambi who was willing to speak to Mitchell. I had always heard that the Big Hurt, such a physical freak of nature that the story goes he was 6-foot-2 and 225 pounds as a fetus, was furious that his vast accomplishments as a hitter were being overshadowed by the dubious feats of so many 'roided-up peers (he actually lost the '00 MVP to Giambi), and I'm impressed that he had the guts to speak his piece despite pressure from the players' union to give Mitchell the silent treatment. (Full disclosure: Before we knew the identity of the player who talked to Mitchell, I pretty much assumed it was Curt Schilling, the premise being that he's incapable of keeping his opinion to himself on any subject.)

* * *

Since so many words on baseball's preeminent oaf have been spent already, I'm simply going to list a few quick thoughts on the disgraced Mr. Clemens here:

1. Mitchell did nothing but give me 100 percent confirmation what I was 99 percent sure of since, oh, 1998. Even elite athletes rarely improve their performance in the 30s, and they never continuously improve their performance from year to year. Clemens's statistics from the last decade are nothing but a numerical compilation of lies.

2. Clemens belongs in Cooperstown, as does Barry Bonds, simply because I feel they were both locks before they apparently began taking PEDs. I know it's a flawed argument, but I don't think there's any other logical way to look at it at this point. On their plaques, however, the word "steroids" should be prominent, and their heads should be twice the size as those on any other plaques.

3. Clemens is so compulsively dishonest I don't think he knows what the truth is half the time. I don't take steroids . . . it's not about the money . . . I thought it was the baseball . . . Will McDonough had it right all along: he's The Texas Con Man. What a world-class fraud.

4. Andy Pettitte is one Yankee I've always respected, but as the admirably warped geniuses at Fire Joe Morgan are reveling in pointing out, he's just as big a phony as his buddy Roger. Pettitte was one of several members of the dynastic Yankees who was named in the report, and will some will say that taints their legacy (man, has that phrase become too familiar), I'm reluctant to believe that there were more juicers in the Bronx then there were in the clubhouses at, say, Camden Yards or Fenway Park. It just happens to be that the Yankees players were the ones who have been busted so far, due mostly to the fact that Jason Grimsley was a teammate. To put it another way - save for El Guapo, I believed every name on that erroneous list that was floating around the internet yesterday before the report was revealed, and I don't think that makes me gullible, but rather realistic.

5. Suzyn must be devasted. Maybe John Sterling should bring her some Kleenex.

* * *

Given what we now know about the era during which he was the most dominating pitcher we've ever witnessed, the accomplishments of 5-foot-11, 170-pound Pedro Jaime Martinez's accomplishments grow more impressive by the year.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

I'm not shocked that our old pal Maurice was among the users outed by Mitchell; I'm not the only one who's long held suspicions about some prominent members of the Kennedy/Canseco Sox teams, so if there was any surprise it's that Mo apparently waited until later in his career to start trying PEDs. Sadly for him, he apparently and unwittingly took the kind that increase your waist size and slow your bat speed. I always assumed it was the endless supply of chocolate glazed that did that.

Day of reckoning

2007-12-12T00:02:00.000-05:00

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free game-used U.L. Washington toothpicks for you . . .

1. All I ask of the Mitchell Report when the juicy details are revealed today is this: Please, not Papi. And if there's no mention of Manny, well, I'd be grateful for that, too. Clemens is all yours, however.

2. Bo Jackson is the most dynamic, electrifying athlete I've ever seen, and to all you kids who think us 30-something geezers are exaggerating his exploits, all I can say is you'll never understand what you missed. But as the great Joe Posnanski reminded me recently, Herschel Walker, in his freshman year at Georgia, was a phenomenon in his own right, as breathtaking and charismatic and unstoppable as Bo at his all-too-brief peak. These two stories - this ESPN feature on Bo, and Poz's on Herschel - are delightful flashbacks, the next best thing to watching them play again.

3. Whenever I'm worried about the Patriots' chances in a particular game, they have a uncanny habit of absolutely pulverizing their opponent that week, which I suppose bodes well for this Sunday's uncivil war with the Jets. Because, well . . . I'm a little nervous about this one, particularly if the Mother Nature decides to even the playing field a little bit by dumping a foot of snow in Foxboro Sunday morning. Now, I don't think the Pats will lose, mind you, not with revenge on their minds and malice in the hearts - at this point, I wouldn't be stunned if Belichick attempted to pistol-whip the reprehensible Eric Mangini during the postgame handshake. It's just that the Jets aren't that bad, and a point-spread of 20-something strikes me as a little bit ridiculous. (And now that I've said that, call your bookies and bet the over.)

4. Very interesting timing of that Miguel Tejada trade, wouldn't you say?

5. I do miss "The Office," though I'll admit the show was . . . just a little off this season, I guess. I got the sense that the writers hadn't quite figured out how to handle the new Jim/Pam dynamic; the characters' understated longing for each other, so subtle and heartfelt through the first three seasons, always provided the balance to the over-the-top antics of Michael and Dwight. Their emotions kept the show grounded in reality. This season, with Pam and Jim the seemingly happy, boring couple, the show teetered toward the ridiculous (example: Michael driving his car into a pond) a little too often. I am confident the writers will hit their stride once their strike ends, whenever that may be. The people behind this show are too smart to let it become just another sitcom.

(As for the obligatory Official Muse of TATB, Non-Wife Division photo . . . well, I know what's expected of me. Here you go:)

(Wait! You mean there's a whole slideshow? Parade magazine, you are awesome! I'll be in my room.)

6. Before he went 0 for 4 from the field in tonight's win over the Kings, none other than Rajon Rondo had the highest field goal percentage among all guards in the NBA (.547). That's a little bit misleading, of course, considering that he rarely shoots unless it's a wide-open look or a layup, and actually, I wish he'd shoot more. Rondo's a delight to watch just for his sheer athleticism and quickness, but I wish that he's stop kicking the ball out to the perimeter so often after he blows by his defender. It's almost like he can get to the hoop at will, but he's still too unselfish after that initial move. Who knows, if he stops passing up open layups, maybe he'll get that shooting percentage even higher.

7. I don't think Jim Rice will get into the Hall of Fame this year, and if I'm being completely honest, I'm not certain he deserves to. (Check out his home/road splits sometime.) But I sincerely hope Cooperstown does call for him on this, his 14th year on the ballot. I could argue that I think he should be enshrined because he's was the American League's most feared slugger for the better part of a decade, but really, I'm crossing my fingers for him because Rice was one of my childhood heroes, and I still can't help but root for him.

8. One more reason it's too bad Harry Caray's not still around: I suspect he would really come up with some very interesting pronunciations of new Cubs outfielder Kosuke Fukudome's name.

9. While snooping around profootballreference.com the other day, I stumbled upon this almost unbelievable statistic: In 1998, the San Diego Chargers' quarterbacks - a couple of scatter-armed gems named Ryan Leaf and Craig Whelihan - combined for 10 touchdown passes and 34 interceptions. I'm not saying it was the worst QB tandem in NFL history, but I'm pretty sure watching those two on his TV every Sunday is what killed Don Coryell. Junior Seau and Rodney Harrison both played on that team. Something tells me they appreciate Tom Brady even more than most.

10. As for today's Completely Random Football Card:

Wednesday marked the 25th anniversary of the infamous Snowplow Game. So yeah, I guess you can pinpoint the exact moment Don Shula's irrational hatred for the Patriots began.

First and 10: Patriots 34, Steelers 13

2007-12-10T01:16:00.000-05:00

1. In the aftermath of Sunday's thoroughly enjoyable dissection of the Pittsburgh Steelers, an opponent that once again talked a better game than it played, I was left with one lingering question: Is it possible that the Patriots are actually better than they're currently getting credit for? Take a glance at the standings, and you'll realize that they've encountered more than their share of high-quality opponents on their way to 13-0. Consider: They've defeated two teams that already locked up their division (Dallas, Indy), clobbered two teams that current lead their division (San Diego, Pittsburgh), and beat a second-place team (Cleveland) that deserves nothing but respect. The combined record of those five teams, minus their five losses to the Patriots: 48-12. In my usual roundabout way, this is what I'm trying to say: I'm finally convinced that 19-0 is realistic, and perhaps even likely. Imagine that.

2. We won't waste much bandwidth here on Steelers safety Anthony Smith's ridiculous "guarantee"; his public humiliation at Gillette Stadium stands as the ultimate response. But I will say that I can't recall Bill Belichick ever disparaging an opposing player to the media, which made his postgame comment about Smith ("We've played against much better safeties than him") all the more telling. He clearly has exactly zero respect for the player, and I'm not sure if Smith is sharp enough to realize this, but his comments succeeded only in pinning a bull's-eye on his own uniform. Maybe next time he'll realize it's not wise to offer bulletin-board material to a team that thrives on turning even perceived slights into on-field fury.

3. Of course I realize Tom Brady is having a season for the ages, but you know what really hammered it home for me Sunday? When CBS put up a simple graphic late in the game that showed his number of touchdown passes alongside his interceptions. I mean, 45 to 5? A 9-to-1 ratio? That's just sick. The only time you ever see stats that swollen is when you play Madden in the franchise mode at the Pro level. (Not that I've ever done such a thing, of course. I'm an adult. A father. A man of responsibility. Mature. I have no time for video games. Think my wife's buying it yet?) My point: If Brady maintains this record pace and the Pats do run the table en route to a fourth championship, how can anyone make the case that there's been a better quarterback in the history of the league? I mean, I know Montana and Unitas and Elway and Marino have their admirers, and Peter King will surely tell us that Tony Romo leads the league in smiles and that no one gives a better foot massage than Brett Favre, but it terms of genuine accomplishment - statistically and in the win column - won't Brady's resume as The Greatest be undeniable?

4. I've written this before, multiple times, but after his seven-catch, 122-yard performance, I have to ask the question again: How in the hell was Jabar Gaffney out of the league for more than a month last season? You'll recall that the Pats brought him in as a street free agent Oct. 9, 36 days after he was released by the Eagles. He ended up emerging as Brady's most dependable receiver in the postseason, catching 21 passes in three games, and considering how many receivers have struggled to learn the Patriots playbook (Donald Hayes should have it solved any day now), his quick acclimation was tribute to his intelligence. He's not big, and he's not particularly fast, but he's a very good and reliable football player, and I'm coming to appreciate him more with each passing week. Why the Texans and Eagles, not to mention all the teams that passed him up on waivers, failed to recognize his attributes remains a mystery.

5. I suppose you could insert your own HGH joke here, but it must be noted that Rodney Harrison has been playing out of his mind since the beginning of the fourth quarter of the Ravens game. I was beginning to think the years and the injuries had sapped him of his Hall of Fame skills, but ol' No. 37 has looked five years younger lately, and that's a wonderful development considering safety play was one of our few legitimate concerns about this team. Now, if only the long-lost Eugene Wilson could experience a similar revival. I did see him on the field against the Steelers, which counts as progress.

6. Quick Red Sox note: I keep catching myself hoping that the Johan Santana deal happens, even though all logic tells me that the smartest decision would be to hang on to Jacoby Ellsbury and/or Jon Lester, along with the rest of the prospect ransom the Twins would require for the two-time Cy Young winner. I'm suspicious that Santana, at 28, has already peaked, especially when I hear those alarming reports that he was reluctant to throw his slider last season. But . . . there's just enough of a chance that he's capable of being baseball's premier pitcher for another three or four seasons that the thought of him pitching for the Red Sox is tantalizing, and I'll admit part of the reason I'd like to see him here is to keep him away from the Yankees, who remain so desperate for a true ace. I'm sure I'll experience some level of buyer's remorse should the deal happen, but right now I'm hoping Santana is in Boston come opening day.

7. I always think - actually, make that hope - the Patriots are going to take a linebacker high in the draft, whether it was Lofa Tatupu three seasons ago or Patrick Willis or Jon Beason this season. For a variety or reasons, they never do. But - and I know we're getting well ahead of ourselves here - I think it finally happens this season. I'm convinced that if the Patriots do end up with the No. 2 pick in the draft, they'll take Virginia's Chris Long, a defensive end who is expected to switch to outside linebacker in the pros. Everything you hear about him - he's versatile and athletic, his motor never stops, his football intelligence is off the charts - makes him sound like a Mike Vrabel clone, and his pedigree is certainly impressive: he's the son of Hall of Famer Howie Long. He sounds like just the kind of player Belichick and Scott Pioli covet, and while the common belief is that the Patriots like Arkansas running back Darren McFadden, I'm betting that Long will ultimately be their guy.

8. I've always appreciated the work Gil Santos and Gino Cappelletti do on the Patriots' broadcast. They're the voices of autumn in these parts, as familiar and comfortable as an old flannel shirt, and considering how Jonathan Kraft always comes across as an arrogant snot whenever he's interviewed (not to mention that he's responsible for the shrieking abomination that is Andy Gresh) I have no faith that he'll find worthy replacements for them when the time comes. Sad to say, I fear the time is coming. It's not an exaggeration to say it's a surprise at this point when they properly identify a pass catcher on the first try, and it was hardly unexpected that they bungled the two biggest plays of the past two weeks: Gaffney's winning catch at Baltimore (Gil originally called it incomplete, then said he couldn't see it), and the Brady-to-Moss-to-Brady-to-Gaffney flea-flicker Sunday (Gil told us Donte' Stallworth caught the TD). Maybe what they need is a competent spotter to help them quickly with player IDs and such, but right now it feels like the game has become too fast for them to keep up at a sufficient level of competence.

9. As I write this, the snow-globe scene outside the living room window has me in the holiday spirit, and having said all we have to say on the New England football juggernaut (dude, they're awesome!), well, what the heck, here are five TATB-sanctioned Christmas songs:

1. "Christmas Time Is Here," Vince Guaraldi Trio: When I was in first grade, I drew such a kick-ass, spot-on Snoopy that I was convinced I was going to grow up to work for - and eventually replace - Charles Schulz. (Actually, I can probably admit now that I often traced my Snoopy masterpieces. I was like a 7-year-old Larry Johnson, except I knew something about sports.) In all seriousness, my affection for the Peanuts is genuine to this day - this occupies a prominent spot in my home office - and it was much to my satisfaction that my 3-year-old daughter began the majority of her days this summer by insisting upon watching her "A Charlie Brown Christmas" DVD as she devoured her Cheerios. Even in July, it sure beats the hell out of watching Elmo.

2. "Blue Christmas," Elvis: A much more appropriate and appealing option than his lesser-known, late-career holiday single, "All I Want For Christmas Is A Peanut Butter-Banana-And-Quaalude Sandwich."

3. "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," The Carpenters: Forget that freaky brother-sister dynamic. You know Karen had the voice of an angel. A really skinny angel, sure, but an angel nonetheless. (Too soon?)

4. "Merry Christmas, Alabama," Jimmy Buffett: The heartfelt way he sings "Merry Christmas, Tenn-uh-see" . . . well, not to get too sappy, but it just sounds so genuine and sincere. It's a wonder Kenny Chesney hasn't released a thinly disguised knockoff himself already. I'm assuming "Alabama, Have A Merry Christmas," will be ready in time for Christmas '08.

5. "Same Old Lang Syne," Dan Fogelberg: Sure, the lyrics are hackneyed ("We took her groceries to the checkout stand/
The food was totaled up and bagged" Wha?) and it's generally cheesier than Rosie O'Donnell's quads, but it still stands alone as the greatest recorded tribute to getting bleep-faced with an ex in the front seat of her car in a grocery store parking lot on Christmas Eve. So it's got that going for it, which is nice.

10. As for today's Completely Random Football Card:

Only someone who's endured multiple concussions could find a way to rank the Steelers ahead of the Patriots today. C'mon, you can do it, Merrill. Fire off those last three working synapses and come up with some with some justification for dismissing the Patriots today.

Everything's coming our way

2007-12-03T20:16:00.001-05:00

Well, it looks like that blowhard gene doesn't skip a generation after all.

Seriously, how much are you loving the Hank Steinbrenner Era? He's a Jennifer Love Hewitt-diggin', tabloid-courtin', droopy-joweled version of his old man, right down to the ubiquitous blue blazer. (What, no white turtleneck? Step it up, son!)

Yes, the Steinbrenner boy possesses that famous Steinbrenner bluster. Unfortunately for him, he hasn't quite mastered the art of the ultimatum quite like his dear ol' bloviating daddy did.

First Hank deftly bullied A-Rod and shrewdly manipulated that negotiation until the poor, humiliated third baseman came crawling back to New York to accept the richest freakin' contract in baseball history. And now his take-or-leave-it offer to the Twins for ace lefthander Johan Santana hangs in the air unanswered, with Minnesota making counter proposals, disregarding his false bravado, and apparently pondering alternative options . . . including, as I suppose you've heard, an intriguing bid from those meddling Boston Red Sox.

Which brings us to the poll question of the day: Whaddaya say, Sox fans? Should they go for it? Should they do - and pay - whatever it takes to get Santana from the Twins, the side benefit being, obviously, that he does not end up in New York? I'll admit it: I've got seriously mixed feelings about the pursuit of the two-time Cy Young Award winner.

The positives, of course, should be obvious even to a dope like Steve Phillips. Santana has been the dominant pitcher in the American League for half a decade. His presence in a rotation with Josh Beckett, Dice-K, and Curt Schilling would make the Sox everyone's favorite to repeat as champs. And he's humble, charismatic, and a delight to watch, sort of a mellower, southpaw version of Pedro. Santana's easy to root for, and the citizens of Fenway would quickly come to adore him.

And yet . . .

The price is appropriately steep, both in terms of Santana's salary and personnel compensation to the Twins. I have a hard time fathoming Theo Epstein committing $20 million per season to any pitcher who will be in his mid-30s at contract's end, even one as accomplished as Santana.

And you have to figure it will take Jacoby Ellsbury and Jon Lester to make the deal happen, despite the Sox's insistence at the moment that it will be either/or. Ellsbury strikes me as somewhat overvalued right now - should the baby-faced October hero be dealt, the Pink Hats surely will weep into their $7.50 beers while yowling, "But he won us a taco!" But I stand by what I wrote in July: Ellsbury projects to be a Brett Butler type rather than the Fred Lynn/Johnny Damon hybrid his legions of admirers envision. He's talented, but hardly untouchable. But in a package with Lester, who threw the best game of his career in the biggest game of his career, and perhaps Jed Lowrie, and perhaps Justin Masterson or Michael Bowden? In that case, the status quo works for me, thanks, and given how often Epstein emphasizes the importance of having young, inexpensive contributors on the big-league roster, I imagine it will be too rich for his blood as well.

Besides, Santana may not be such a sure thing from here forward. I wrote a couple of times in the Fox column this season, he may be showing subtle signs of a decline; statistically, this was his worst season since he moved fulltime into the Minnesota rotation in 2004, and it's alarming to some degree that scouts thought he was hesitant to throw his slider during his mediocre final month of the season.

The pitcher I've often likened him to is Ron Guidry, another undersized lefty with a filthy slider who slipped from historically great to merely pretty good rather quickly. Gator's peak season - and what a season it was - came at age 27 in '78. Santana's peak has been longer and better, but he will be 29 in March, and it's worth noting that his most similar comparison on baseballreference.com from ages 26 through 28 is Tim Hudson - respectable company, sure, but not who you'd expect for a pitcher of Santana's magnitude and reputation.

Another popular question these days is this: Should we believe Epstein is sincere in his interest? I think so . . . to a point. The Sox would love to have Santana, but on their terms. But the Yankees need Santana. Huge difference. Epstein has handled this negotiation with a casual calm - no deadlines, no worries - and part of his motivation simply has to be to drive up the ransom for the desperate Yankees, who must acquire this ace unless they want to spend the next half-decade looking up to the Sox in the standings.

Logically, the Yankees have no choice but to meet the Twins' demands - even Georgie's Boy must know this. I only hope Minnesota rookie GM Bill Smith is savvy and patient enough to wait out Son of George's next dozen or so "drop-dead deadlines" until he ends up with Philip Hughes (who's actually nine months younger than Joba Chamberlain, and a superior long-term prospect to the Midge Magnet in my opinion), Mussina-wannabe Ian Kennedy, and Melky Cabrera, an adequate talent whose energy greatly exaggerates his ability.

There are indications that Smith is getting antsy to make a deal - he is apparently willing to take outfielder Austin Jackson and righty Alan Horne instead of Kennedy, a logical proposition the Yankees reportedly rejected late last night. But in the end, if the Twins don't get a collection of talent they are pleased with in exchange for the best pitcher of this decade, it's their own fault.

After all, the Yankees are desperate to get this done. Listen closely to the blustery words of the nervous man in the blue blazer, and you might even hear it.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

Sox fans of a certain age have to be proud today that the deft and demanding manager of the Impossible Dream Sox is headed for Cooperstown, one of five candidates voted in by Veterans Committee today. Personally, I'm just hoping he remembers to wear pants to the induction ceremony. (By the way, Williams's autobiography, "No More Mr. Nice Guy," is a fantastic read. Can't recommend it highly enough. He rips everyone, save for his wife, Andre Dawson, and maybe Tony Gwynn.)

Junior class

2007-11-29T03:11:00.000-05:00

While checking something for a story I was reading at work tonight, I stumbled across this tidbit of information that hammered home just how ancient (in a football sense) Junior Seau actually is, and I have to share:

Seau entered the NFL in 1990 as the San Diego Chargers' No 1 pick out of Southern Cal. In that same draft, the Patriots' selections included - and consider this the warning that you're about to suffer terrifying flashbacks to some brutal football - linebacker Chris Singleton, defensive lineman Ray Agnew, quarterback Tommy Hodson, and wide receiver Greg McMurtry, among assorted others whose football legacies exist only in their own minds and in the small type of an old Patriots media guide. (Can you hear me, Ventson Donelson?)

Seau, who went fifth overall, very well could have become a Patriot then and there. You might recall that New England originally held the No. 3 choice in that draft, but dealt it to Seattle for the eighth and 10th picks, which they promptly spent on Singleton (who lasted all three seasons with the Pats) and Agnew (who played five nondescript seasons for the Pats and concluded his career with the '00 Rams).

As for the No. 3 pick, Seattle used it on mammoth U of Miami defensive tackle Cortez Kennedy . . . who, coincidentally, we found out today is one of the new finalists for the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Full circle and all that.

So, in sum: The Patriots could have had Kennedy or Seau, who as far as I could tell is the last active player from that draft. General manager Patrick Sullivan - the son of original Patriots owner Billy Sullivan, which I suppose makes him a less-rich, less-smug version of Jonathan Kraft - dealt his way into getting Singleton and Agnew. Shrewd, son. Shrewd.

Though you know I'm too cynical to put much stock in tidy lessons and teachable moments, I suppose you can find something of the sort here without much searching. Should you ever catch yourself taking this glorious current era for granted, just take one look at ol' No. 55, a Foxboro favorite 17 years after he first could have become a Patriot, and suddenly those days when this dynamic, dynastic team was the league laughingstock won't seem so long ago.

And if that doesn't sufficiently humble you, well, I might just have to mention Tommy Hodson again.

(By the way, here's a fun do-over on how that draft should have gone.)

Tito, get me a tissue

2007-11-27T02:51:00.000-05:00

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free throwaway lines for you . . .

1. It's reassuring that the Red Sox took care of their most personnel business early in the offseason, signing Mike Lowell and Curt Schilling to reasonable, fair deals, and all but ensuring that next year's team will look a whole lot like the one that ended this season so triumphantly. But there is still one more matter that needs to be resolved in the next few weeks for this offseason to be considered a complete success: Theo Epstein must give Terry Francona, who has one year remaining on his contract, the lucrative extension he deserves. You know how I feel about Francona, and I trust those of you with clear eyes and at least a dollop of common sense feel the same: He's is the best Red Sox manager of this and perhaps any era. There is no one else I would rather have running this baseball team, and he deserves to be at the top of the managerial pay scale. I have little reason to believe this is the case right now, but if Theo and his underlings somehow actually subscribe to the Billy Beane theory that the importance of a manager is vastly overrated, then they are making a grievous, inexcusable error. Francona is necessary. They'd better realize as much.

2. Someone with an appreciation and knowledge of defensive line play, answer me this: Is Richard Seymour doing the kinds of things that don't show up on the stat sheet - commanding a double team, collapsing the pocket, making life easier for the linebackers, etc. - or is he, as the stat sheet suggests, doing nothing at all? Because right now, I'm beginning to think it's the latter, and I'm wondering what became of the game-altering beast who wreaked such havoc a few seasons ago.

3. Dr. Charles Steinberg, the Red Sox' Vice President of Schmaltz who is leaving the Red Sox for the Dodgers, always struck me as the Smithers to Larry Lucchino's Mr. Burns, and I have to assume he's to blame for such insidious adominations as the Red Sox Nation Presidency and that trainwreck dating show on NESN. Yet when Steinberg got it right, he really got it right, most notably regarding the pitch-perfect 2004 ring ceremony, and I suppose the fact that the Sox are more popular than ever has at least something to do with his marketing savvy. I won't miss him, but then, as a lifelong and eternally loyal Sox fan, I'm not who he was trying to appeal to anyway.

4. TATB's two favorite Celtics moments from the past week: 1) Ray Allen's improbable, delightful buzzer-beater at Charlotte, which happened only after Paul Pierce had the presence of mind to feed him the ball rather than heave up an ill-advised attempt of his own. Hey, he's learning. 2) Rajon Rondo's behind-the-back fake that deked Derek Fisher out of his tube socks, an impossibly athletic move that Rondo finished off with a layup. Eddie House was so pumped and jacked after Rondo's highlight-reel move that he comically ran onto the court and whacked him with a towel as play continued. Man, this is a fun team.

5. You know your perspective as a Red Sox fan has undergone a healthy change when you hear reports that the Yankees are in trade discussions with the Twins for ace Johan Santana, and your initial reaction is something along the lines of this: Huh. I guess we'll just have to keep Buchholz and Ellsbury then. Seriously, it's a refreshingly satisfying feeling to know that the Yankees are chasing the Sox now, and in order to get the 28-year-old two-time Cy Young winner, they'll have to give up some of that quality youth (hopefully Philip Hughes and Robinson Cano) that their ancient, thin roster so desperately needs.

6. I still don't think I was wrong in assuming the discovery of a 10-pound hairball in a person's stomach had something to do with Fred Smerlas.

7. Ideally, they'd both be back next season, and I'd say right now there's decent chance they both will be. But I'll ask the question anyway: If the Patriots can retain only one marquee-free-agent-to-be, who would you prefer it to be? Randy Moss or Asante Samuel? Discuss.

8. I think Bill Belichick is much more sentimental than his dour public persona would suggest - he's given Doug Flutie and Vinny Testaverde their moments in the sun in recent seasons for no reason other than it was a nice, respectful gesture to a couple of old pros - and it's going to be fascinating to see if his obvious admiration for Troy Brown affects the decision to add him to the active roster or not. I hate to say it, but at the moment, there just doesn't seem to be a spot for ol' No. 80 on the offensive side of the ball, especially with Jabar Gaffney being so dependable as a fourth receiver and Kelley Washington such a force on special teams. Though, come to think of it, the way things are going with the DBs lately, maybe Brown will be playing nickel back for this team by December.

9. It won't happen this year, but Tim Raines, one of the notable newbies on the 2008 Hall of Fame ballot revealed yesterday, deserves a plaque in Cooperstown. The man they called "Rock" didn't get his due for a couple of reasons: he played in the same era as the transcendent Rickey Henderson, he spent his finest seasons in the distant outpost of Montreal, and he was tarnished by a drug problem early in his career. But Raines was one of the most dynamic, efficient, and underrated offensive performers of the '80s, and he was a superior player to, among other Hall of Famers, Lou Brock. (Go ahead: look it up. Or better yet, read this.) Like I said, it will never happen on the first ballot, but I do hope one of these years, Raines gets his just reward. And his ex-teammate and mentor Andre Dawson belongs there with him.

10. As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

Anytime an ex-Maine Guide/recovering coke head writes a book, you know I'm readin'.