Do not bat this man second

First, the praise: I admired Jerry Remy as a kid, and still do. He was the speedy second baseman on those late-'70s Sox teams that hooked me for life, the Fall Rivah kid living the dream. And for all of his huckster tendencies as a broadcaster, he's a superior analyst to every last one of the national nitwits, and he gets bonus points for bringing out the personality in Don Orsillo, who we still suspect is really a vinyl-covered automaton programmed to repeat old Sean McDonough soundbites at the appropriate times.

So, yeah, I'm staunchly pro-RemDawg. It's just . . . well, I recently discovered that he was a really bad offensive player. I mean, really bad. How really bad? Let's put it this way: Remy's career OPS of .655 is exactly .004 points lower than Alex Cora's. I think I understand Remy's verbal fawning over Cora now. Remy might be built more like Dustin Pedroia, but he knows Pedroia has more pure hitting ability than he ever did. He sees his reflection as a player in Cora.

Now about those stats - they're about as attractive as Tawny Kitaen's mugshot. (Click at your retinas' risk, Coverdale.) I first became aware of them a week or so ago when the Hollywood Sports Guy made a crack about Remy's career OPS, and I checked them out further while doing some research for this week's Fox column on the feeble '75 Angels, who hit 55 (yes, 55) home runs as a team. You probably knew that Remy hit just 7 career homers in his 10 seasons, since he jokes about it often with the OrsilloBot. But did you know that he had a career OPS+ of 82? That he was in the top 10 in caught stealing four times, including 21 times against 34 successes with the '75 Angels? That he was in the top 10 in outs four times? That his on-base percentage was .327? That his slugging percentage was .328? Not only was he unproductive, but he was remarkably inefficient.

Don Zimmer did a lot of indefensible things in '78 (running off the Buffalo Heads, playing a woozy Dewey Evans, starting Bleepin' Icewater Bobby Sprowl, sticking with injured, scatterarmed Butch Hobson . . . ah, hell, you get the point), but batting Remy and his .321 on-base percentage in the No. 2 spot in front of Rice, Lynn, and Fisk might have been the dumbest. It's like Zimmer had a metal plate in his head or something. It's a wonder his egregious lineup construction didn't lead to him getting taken hostage by a 10-year-old Rob Neyer.

I realize it was a different game then. The ballparks were bigger, the ballplayers were smaller, and second base, save for the great Joe Morgan, the criminally underrated Bobby Grich, and a couple of others, wasn't regarded as an offensive position. Second base was for the gritty, gutty gamers, the runts and the bunters, the pre-Ecksteins, if you will.

Which explains, I suppose, why Remy, despite his puny numbers, accomplished enough in his career to be rated the 100th-best second baseman of all-time in The New Bill James Historical Baseball Abstract. (Hey, to be ranked in the top 100 ever at anything is a compliment, even if Remy comes in 21 spots below Yankee punchline Horace Clarke). Wrote James:

When Remy was playing for El Paso in 1974, he wondered aloud if he would ever make it to the major leagues. His manager, Dave Garcia, overheard him and said, "Listen, do you know who is playing second base for the Angels?"

"Denny Doyle," said Remy

"Who runs better, you or Denny?" asked Garcia

"I do," said Remy.

"Who throws better?"

"I do."

"Who hits better?"

"I do," said Remy.

"Well then," said Garcia, "you're going to the major leagues."

Remy took Doyle's job with the Angels in '75 . . . then replaced him in Boston after coming over in a deal in the winter of '77. So it's all relative, right? There are a lot of second baseman who were worse than the 100th best. Doyle's on that list, somewhere.

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Other notes scribbled in the margins:

• Considering he's the NFL's fourth all-time leading rusher, you'd think Curtis Martin's retirement this week would have merited more attention. I guess there's no time to appropriately salute one of the classiest and accomplished players in recent league history when a certain network's NFL airtime is alloted entirely to a flashy but second-rate quarterback's cruel way with animals. Fortunately, Newsday's Bob Glauber hit the mark with this tribute; Martin's quiet grace, on the field and off, was overshadowed in this day and age in which police lights and the spotlight are often indistinguishable. Even if his football legacy is mostly with the Jets, I'll always remember him as one of my favorites for his three terrific seasons with the Patriots. It's funny to recall now that early in his rookie season, after he scored the winning touchdown against the Browns, Bill Parcells warded off the media hype by saying, "Don't put the kid in Canton quite yet, fellas." Who would have thought then that the Hall of Fame eventually would beckon?

• I might as well say it, because it's become the truth: When Papi comes to the plate with the game hanging in the balance in the late innings, I'm no longer confident, let alone certain, that he's going to come through. And that makes me sad, in a melancholic sort of way. I'm not ready for that era to be over yet.

• Who's NOW? I mean, you're kidding me, right? Bob Ley must weep for what ESPN has become.

• Nice of Wily Mo Pena to tantalize us with his breathtaking, maddening talent once more before he departs. Or did last night's performance and Nick Cafardo's nice piece Thursday about how hard he works and how much his teammates believe in him give you pause about giving up on him now?

• Well, it sure looks like the wheels are coming off my Mark Teixeira-for-Jon Lester bandwagon. The offer Atlanta supposedly made to Texas for the 27-year-old slugger includes catching phenom Jarrod Saltalamacchia (another player the Sox should covet), and I doubt Theo Epstein could trump that offer without including Clay Buchholz, who should not and will not be going anywhere. Teixeira is exactly what the Sox need (check out Mike Lowell's career first- and second-half splits and try not to cringe), but at the moment, the price seems much too high to make it happen.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:



"Man, that job-stealing Remy punk is really starting to *&%^ me off."

Nine innings: 05.09.07

Playing nine innings while feeling a whole lot better about the Hanley Ramirez trade these days . . .

1. Okay, so maybe we went a little over the top with our Kinison-like rant in ripping Roger Clemens the other day. It's just that of all of the things about Clemens that aggravate us - the convenient "tweaks" when a game isn't going his way, his knack for shrinking when the moment calls for him to stand tall, his demand for more perks than any diva in Hollywood, his phony aw-shucks demeanor - it's the oaf's chronic dishonesty that bugs us the most. Why did he have to stand there in Steinbrenner's lair and, peering smugly at the Yankee Stadium peons below, try to claim that he's back with the Yankees because they so quaintly "came and got him out of Texas"? Why can't he just admit that it's about what it has always been about with him: THE MONEY, STUPID! There's nothing wrong with that, particularly in this day and age, and yet the disingenuous rube thinks he's fooling us by claiming it's about everything but the cash. Who's he trying to kid? Remember when his name came up in the Jason Grimsley case? His first concern was that it was going to cost him endorsements. He's made $100-something million in his career, Koby, Kielbasa, Klambake, Kareem, and all the other "K" kids are financially set for several lifetimes, and yet he's more worried about losing his five-figure gig pitching Preparation H than about how being pegged as a juicer would affect his legacy. And still, in the face of his transparent greed, he has the hubris to act as if his cause is something far more noble than further engorging his bank account. What a fraud. Let me just make one more point before I go ballistic again: Had the Red Sox somehow outbid the Yankees in this charade - and given the desperation in the Bronx, that was not going to happen - you know he'd have fed us a similar line of Texas bull about how much coming home to Boston means to him and all of that treacly, Dr. Steinberg-scripted nonsense. Would we have eaten it up? Well, I suddenly find myself looking forward to watching Randy Moss play for my favorite team after years of despising the guy, so in the spirit of the truth I'll admit that, yeah, I'd swallow a heaping helping of hypocrisy and probably cheer Clemens, even though I'd hate myself in the morning. Hey, we sports fans are suckers for sentiment. Just ask Roger.

2. Unless David Ortiz actually enjoys the WEEI-driven conjecture about his own enhanced performance since he became a Red Sox, he'd be wise to refrain from any further head-scratching proclamations that he doesn't believe Barry Bonds knowingly used steroids. We appreciate Papi's good (if ill-informed) intentions, but he must realize than any time a slugger of this era speaks up in defense of Bonds, he immediately becomes a target of steroid suspicion himself. As for a certain other Sox player who weighed in on Bonds Tuesday, let's just leave it at this: When Curt Schilling had his chance before Congress to opine on steroids' impact on his profession, he clammed up to the point that we half expected him to pull the Sammy Sosa No hablo Ingles routine. Please, spare us the sanctimony now.

3. The pining for Alex Cora to play every day has died down now that Dustin Pedroia has begun to look like he belongs, and that's a good thing. While Cora is certainly a valuable member of the roster - this isn't the first time I've said he's the best utility player the Sox have had in my lifetime, and it won't be the last - he's a 31-year-old who has a .246 average in 10 big-league seasons. As a certain local football coach might say, he is what he is. The Sox are wise to give Pedroia an extended chance, and should he prove incapable of handling it, Cora should remain in the reserve role in which he thrives, while someone out of the Graffanino/Grudzielanek/Loretta cookie-cutter is brought in to take the majority of the at-bats.

4. If you thought you've been saying, "Did you see that catch Coco made?" on a frequent basis lately . . . well, according to Bill James via Seth Mnookin, there's a good reason for that, and it's not because you're suffering a flashback to that excruciatingly ubiquitous NESN commercial of a season ago. Crisp has been dazzling in center field lately, averaging roughly one Web Gem every other game or so, and at the plate and on the bases he's starting to look like the dynamic player the Sox coveted as Johnny Damon's successor. Hmmm, maybe he's going to thrive here after all.

5. You've probably heard this by now, but it's worth hearing again, because this hilariously shrill snippet of Yankee propaganda is so over-the-top that even Georgie Porgie mouthpiece John Sterling seemed taken aback. This will never get old. Heck, I'm putting it into heavy rotation on the iPod just to bring a little more comedy to my day. And for the record, I'm pretty sure Suzyn Waldman is what Glenn Geffner would sound like if he worked for the Yankees, idolized Liza Minnelli, and had a more masculine voice.

6. Toronto's Vernon Wells is becoming the Joe Carter of era, an outstanding all-around player who spends an inordinate amount of his time absolutely slaughtering Red Sox pitching. And like Carter, his predecessor by a generation as a Blue Jays signature player, Wells is an affable star whose ego has not swollen in proportion to his salary, as this fun story indicates.

7. Thirty-one games into his Boston tenure, Julio Lugo is the same guy I saw all those years in Tampa Bay: occasionally exciting, often erratic, and not someone you're terribly interested in having on your favorite team. I'm not going to go all Lobel on you and wonder why the Sox let Alex Gonzalez depart, because his currently stellar offensive numbers will be subpar once the summer is over. But I still don't understand Theo Epstein's fascination with Lugo, let alone for the 4-year, $36-million price tag.

8. Despite his Mark Clear imitation in his 2007 debut last night, we're going to stick by our binky and repeat our preseason prediction that Devern Hansack will be a valuable contributor to the Red Sox pitching staff this season. His command was clearly on the fritz last night; judging by what I saw of him last summer in Portland, that's highly unusual. Hansack is a strike-throwing machine with good movement on his low-90s fastball, a decent changeup, and a tight, sharp slider that is a major-league out pitch, as Frank Thomas found out last night. He's 29, with an unusual backstory and hardly the Baseball America pedigree, but you can hold me to this: Given a fair chance, Hansack will succeed in the big leagues.

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



Macha, the less-than-beloved former A's manager who once employed Terry Francona as his bench coach, is the latest addition to NESN's cadre of studio analysts. The early verdict: Though he's got about as much charisma as a sanitary sock, he brings an insider's knowledge when he talks about players' strengths and weaknesses. We still wish The Eck had the gig every night, but Macha has the potential to be a decent second option.

'The Moss of old is back.'

Since I'm struggling to wrap my head around the notion of Randy Moss as a Patriot (I can't stand him! . . . But I love it!!), here are a few semi-coherent thoughts while relishing a damn fun weekend for a New England sports fan . . .

• First off, here's what I wrote about Moss back in October, when the rumors that he could be coming to Foxborough began swirling:

"Something tells me Tom Brady would punt Reche Caldwell to the curb and sign off on this in a heartbeat. Me, I'm intrigued . . . but wary. It's one of those rumors that as a fan, you get excited about even though common sense suggests you probably shouldn't. We all know Moss, for all of his talent, is a complete and total mutt. Those lobbying for the Patriots to deal for him will remind us that Corey Dillon was a malcontent in Cincinnati who has been a model teammate in New England (just ask Laurence Maroney), but Dillon's frustrations with Cincinnati primarily stemmed from losing. Moss strikes me as a player who couldn't give a damn about his team's place in the standings, and I know I'm not the only one who spent words the last few seasons telling people I'd rather have Deion Branch and David Givens catching passes (and blocking . . . and playing selflessly . . .) for my favorite football team than someone like Moss, or Terrell Owens, or any other members of the Insane Receiver Posse. I could talk myself into being excited about Moss becoming a Patriot. But it would take something the player himself too often lacks: effort."

Sixth months later, the most talented, enigmatic, downright-pain-in-the-ass receiver outside of Dallas really is a New England Patriot, and while I stand by every word I wrote back then, maybe it's not such an effort to approve of this trade after all. As we discovered during a conference call today in which Moss seemed truly awestruck by his new situation, there are fresh reasons to be optimistic that this might be a case of getting the right player at the right time. Moss said all the right things about his admiration for the Patriot Way, his respect for Brady, and his hunger to win a championship at this point in his career, and his nod to Troy Brown by saying he tells people he's the second-best receiver in Marshall University history is a nice start toward endering himself to his doubters. But perhaps the most telling sign that he gets it, that playing for the Patriots is important to him, is that he took a pay cut of approximately $15 million bucks to come here. Talk about putting your money where your mouth is - pro athletes nowadays don't sacrifice that kind of coin unless they are committed to the cause. It's more proof that the Patriots have accomplished Bob Kraft's stated mission: to become like the Niners of '80s, a championship contender every single year and the desired destination for talented veterans who are hungry to win. Further, I suspect that he has already been informed that if he doesn't bust his ass on every route, block when he's supposed to block, and avoid running over too many meter maids with his car, he won't be here long. Bill Belichick has never been afraid to discard a disgruntled player (Terry Glenn, 2001) or admit a mistake (Duane Starks, 2005, whom cost the Patriots more in trade than Moss did), and given the depth of the receiving corps, Moss is luxury rather than an absolute necessity. The Patriots have all the leverage in this partnership - there really is no risk here, unless you're one of those Baby-Ruths-in-the-pool who think he could actually have a divisive impact in a locker room full of veteran leaders capable of putting him hin place. Please. Right now, the Patriots have a giddy, hungry player who, judging by the reported 4.29 in the 40 he ran for Belichick recently, is committed to being the game's most unstoppable receiver again. If he can maintain that commitment through February, just give this team the Lombardi Trophy and get it over with.

• Leave it to Rodney Harrison to sum up the Moss deal without any b.s.: "I've always said, if he comes in, doesn't work hard and acts like a primma donna, it's not going to work. But if he puts the team first and works hard, he has the talent to do special things for us. It comes down to the small things, and buying into what we're all about here."

As Marshall's greatest receiver would say: Bingo.

• It became obvious with their willingness to unload their first-day picks that the Patriots thought the talent level was lacking in this draft. Which, after all the dealing was done, makes the Patriots' final haul from their 2007 draft picks look all the more impressive: Brandon Meriweather, Wes Welker, Randy Moss, San Francisco's first-round pick in 2008, Oakland's third-round pick in 2008 and a bunch of second-day picks. If my two favorite draftniks - Mel Kiper Jr. and WEEI draft maven Larry Johnson - don't give them an A+ for what they accomplished, then they aren't paying attention as much as they pretend to be.

• If you caught 'EEI's very special draft coverage this weekend, I'm guessing you realized I was being, well, a snarky dinkus regarding that LJ/draftnik line. From what I heard during my commute to Carl Everett's favorite newspaper Saturday, their coverage was predictably pathetic, from the mangled names (it's Vince WilFORK, not WilFOLK - geez, you'd think Johnson would know how to pronounce his favorite utensil) to an appaling lack of general knowledge (I'm pretty sure every specific comment they offered on a particular player came word for word from the ESPN Draft Guide) to idiotic opinions (the Patriots should draft Brady Quinn if he was available). It made me wish, once again, that I had the iPod hookup in the car, or that Felger's station had a signal better than a ham radio. What a disgrace.

• Other scattered thoughts from the draft: I cannot believe the Dolphins used the ninth pick for Ted Ginn Jr., an undersized receiver who wouldn't go over the middle if he was driving a Hummer. They trade Welker for a second-round pick, then draft a replacement who very possibly will be less productive in the first round. Brilliant. Something tells me the Pats won't have to worry about the Dolphins for awhile . . . Dallas made a killing by taking advantage of Quinn's slide and dealing the No. 22 overall pick to Cleveland for the Browns' No. 1 next year, which might well be the No. 1 overall. But I can't blame Phil Savage, Romeo Crennel and the Browns for making the swap, either. They're likely goners if Cleveland has another terrible season, so why not trade a pick that they may not be around to make, especially when it brings them a local hero who they probably considered drafting 19 picks earlier . . . I liked the Panthers' draft, getting Miami linebacker Jon Beason at No. 25 (I wonder if the Pats would have taken him at 28 if he was available), then USC receiver Dwayne Jarrett in the second round . . . I ran this by Mrs. TATB while watching ESPN's first-day coverage, and she agrees: Steve Young has more Botox in his forehead than the entire cast of "Desperate Housewives" . . . You say JaMarcus Russell, I say Akili Smith - big arm, questionable work ethic, bad situation. And why is it that Quinn reminds me so much of Joey Harrington, circa 2002? . . . The Giants are the perfect spot for Zak DeOssie: close enough for his old man to see him play (and for one of his former teams, too), and far enough away that we don't have to hear about it all the damn time.

• I don't know who it was who recommended Hideki Okajima to the Sox - I'm guessing it was Craig Shipley - but whoever it was deserves a little extra something in his paycheck. Okajima was almost an afterthought on the Sox' roster entering the season, the other, less talented newbie from Japan. But man, what a revelation he has been. He hasn't given up a run in 11 appearances, he's holding hitters to a .139 average, and most tellingly, he again shut down the Yankees this weekend even though they are now familiar with his stuff, having seen him a couple of times now.

• I've said it before and I'll say it again: Alex Cora is the best utility player the Sox have had in my lifetime. Every time Terry Francona puts him in the lineup, he makes the manager look smart for doing so.

• I still think the Yankees will get it together once their pitching staff returns to health, but I'm beginning to think Joe Torre may not survive the wrath of Georgie Porgie (provided he's not currently pulling a "Weekend at Bernie's" on us) to see that day. And frankly, I'm not sure how I feel about that. Torre receives (and deserves) much of the credit for the Yankees' success before the turn of the century, but judging from what I've seen this season (and in the postseason since 2002), his ineptitude at handling a bullpen puts the Yankees at something of a disadvantage against the game's better managers. I fear that Torre's firing, followed by the hiring of a superior tactician, might be exactly the jump-start the Yankees need.

• I'm with Wally. Sure, it's a great commercial, but the sight of Papi in a Yankees cap is revolting.

• As for today's Completely Random Football Card:



Chris Singleton, No. 55 for the Patriots in 1990, was taken eighth overall in that year's draft, three picks later than the man who wore No. 55 for last season, some dude named Seau. Should we mention that the Patriots could have had Seau 17 years ago, but they traded down to get Singleton and the equally legendary Ray Agnew? (Seriously, where else do you get this kind of minutiae?)

What, 10 runs ain't enough for ya, Timlin? . . .

. . . and five other semi-coherent (and rage-fueled) thoughts from the second disaster of the day . . .

1) Man, the Sox bullpen sucks. It's goddamn killing them, and there's not a thing you, me, Theo, Tito, the Eck, or Dick Radatz from beyond the grave can do about it. Craig Hansen, one year removed from the Big Freakin' East, should be honing his stuff at Pawtucket. Mike Timlin '06 looks like a righty version of Alan Embree '05. Rudy Seanez stinks, he pretty much has always stunk, and he never should have been signed. Julian Tavarez is one more player whose lack of mental toughness should have immediately convinced the Sox to cross him off their shopping list. Even Jonathan Papelbon, god bless him, looks weary, and I'm fairly sure prodigal savior Keith Foulke's last effective pitch came that magical October two years ago. There's no shame in getting bounced around by the Yankees - their lineup, even when it isn't entirely healthy, is a fearsome beast from top to bottom. But someone needs to be accountable for failing to put together a bullpen capable of coming through at least once in a while. (Tell me, again, why there was no place for Mike Myers on this team.) Right now, with this collection of meatball artists and arsonists, it's a miracle they're only 3 1/2 back.

2) The notion that Derek Jeter is a legitimate candidate for MVP of the American League is of course ridiculous, given the talent that surrounds (and outproduces) him. But man, did he ever outshine Big Papi tonight. Jeter's three-run go-ahead double in the seventh inning was vintage Jeter: he fouled off a couple biting fastballs, got the pitch he wanted, and whacked it with his patented inside-out cricket swing toward the Wily Mo Pena defensive circus in right. This time, the patented fist-pump-and-smirk combo was entirely justified, and the grapefruity scent of "Driven" filled the air at Fenway. Sometimes, my friends, you have to give the devil his due.

3) It can't tell if Jon Lester can't throw strikes or is afraid to throw strikes, but I'm sure as hell leaning toward the latter. Listen, kid: Throw. Thefrigginball. Over. The. Plate.

4) Remember my proclamation - oh, when was it, two days ago? - that I wasn't going to gripe about Coco Crisp anymore? Bleep that. The difference between Coco and Johnny Damon might ultimately be the difference between the Sox and Yankees in the AL East. I'm a Theo apologist - a task that is becoming harder and harder as I ponder all the Clements, Renterias and Seanezes that he's tortured us with - but even he cannot deny, at least on this day, that the Red Sox really screwed up by allowing Damon to defect.

5) The admirable Alex Cora had a fine night. So did Manny and Mark Loretta. And the Jimmy Fund collected over $2 million, with the pledges still coming in during the late hours. So what say we just end today's debacle on a positive note, and I'll be back at ya again today . . .