And don't forget George Foster

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.

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

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.

Free and easy (down the road)

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.

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

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.

TATB Live: Dice-K vs. Norwich Navigators ace Chase Wright

Let's see . . . the clicker has settled on ESPN, our ass is planted in its usual spot on the couch, a couple of Red Stripes are within reach, and in anticipation of the fun the next few hours might bring, the broom is at the ready. Yep, we're officially in Live Blog mode. Play ball, yo.

But before we get rolling with this matchup of career one-game winners, thought I'd let you in on a couple of possible bets tonight, if you are so inclined:

• Dice-K and the Sox are heavy favorites at -170. Vegas does not love Chase Wright.

• The over/under on the number of times Gold Glove winner Derek Jeter's defensive problems are mentioned on the telecast: once, followed by a lame excuse that includes a reference to intangibles.

• The over/under on the times Joe Torre will get caught by the cameras "digging for treasure": Nine (once per inning).

• The over/under on the number of Dice-K pitches Joe Morgan misidentifies as "that's a cutter, Jon": (Searching without luck for the infinity symbol on my keyboard.)

Wager wisely, and let's go. (Sweep . . . sweep . . . sweep. . . ):

FIRST INNING
Well, that's not how it was supposed to start. After retiring Benedict Damon and Jeter, Dice-K walks Bobby Abreu, drills A-Rod (because the Sox do hit .300 hitters), then leaves a flat changeup on the outside corner that Jason Giambi pokes into the left-center gap to score two. It's 2-0, Yankees, and suddenly I catch myself wondering how you say "performance enhancing drugs" in Japanese. (By the way, Giambi is already sweating like he just stepped out of the sauna. The man is a walking armpit. Must be a side-effect of one of his vitamins.)

In terms of build and delivery, my first impression of Chase Wright is that he reminds me of Jon Lester a little bit, though the Sox's lefty throws harder. And like Lester at times last year, Wright seems hesitant to trust his stuff, which is why he starts out by walking Julio Lugo and Kevin Youkilis. Can't say I blame him - he's only the ninth Yankees rookie in 15 years to start a game at Fenway. The other eight either burst into tears or spontaneously combusted from the stress of the experience. True story. Domingo Jean was nothing but a grease spot and a pair of spikes by the time the Faithful got done with him.

All right, this Wright kid is officially . . . what's the term? . .. oh, yes, a puke. After getting Papi and Manny to pop to Abreu - both on very hittable pitches - he gets two strikes on J.D. Drew, then throws him a slider in the dirt, a good pitcher's pitch. Drew checks his swing, but before the third base umpire can rule whether he went, Wright hops off the mound and is halfway to the dugout before the ump rules no swing. Save that cocky ---- for when you have more than one (1) win above Double A, kid. (Drew whiffs on the next pitch to leave two runner stranded. Wright resists the temptation to do an Eck-style fist pump and point.)

SECOND INNING
Joe Morgan: "Watching Matuzaka now, you can just tell he's a good pitcher." You know, I was going to mock him for stating the obvious, but that might be the most insightful thing he's ever said. Sure doesn't take much to win an Emmy these days, does it? Dice-K cruises through the second, thanks in part to a nice running catch by Wily Mo Pena in center, who puts a sizable dent in the Monster after a minor post-catch collision.

Wright's starting to look like one of those ----balling lefties who've made a habit of tormenting the Sox the last few seasons. He's got a good change, a decent slider, and a fastball that touches 92. It's a more than adequate arsenal, though his command is shaky at best. (Exhibit A: He just walked the virtually unwalkable Pena as I was writing this.) Still, he gets out of it. Future Pawtucket mainstay Dustin Pedroia's first extra-base hit of the season, a rocketed double into the left field corner, goes for naught as Lugo grounds to three-time Gold Glove winner Captain Jetes, who flashes his two-step range and retires Lugo at first. Calm Eyes!

THIRD INNING
Uh-oh. Early trouble for Dice-K in the second. Damon singles up the middle, then Dice-K plants one in Jeter's back. It didn't look intentional - Jeter is a notorious diver - but now he has to deal with Abreu, A-Rod, and the Walking Chemistry Experiment with runners on. Man, they don't have lineups like this in Japan.

Abreu whiffs. A-Rod whiffs. And Juicin' G. should have been retired, but his broken-bat flare to right nicks off a retreating Pedroia's glove as Damon crosses the plate to make it 3-0. Pedroia, who had shifted to shallow right already for the pull-heavy Giambi, absolutely should have made the play, and if he were taller than 5-foot-6 or blessed with better range than a lawn gnome, he would have. (Robinson Cano whiffs to end the inning.)

I thought my dad was the only person on earth who still wore those goofy glasses that tint depending upon the level of sunlight, but Gammons, doing his sideline/insight thing tonight, also has them on. I wonder if Gammons also hikes his tube socks up to his knees while wearing shorts and sandals. That's my dad's sartorial trademark, you know.

Morgan is prattling on about how Wright can't keep getting away with throwing only his changeup for strikes. Meanwhile, Papi just popped up, the Sox have but one hit, and Jamie Moyer has 218 wins . . .

. . . and Manny just wallops a changeup to the Mass Pike to make it 3-1, Evil.Do I have to give Morgan credit for making a reasonable point there? I do? Damn.

. . . Um, geez, I guess I do, because J.D. Drew creamed another Wright meatball over everything in right-center to make it 3-2. Like I said, you can't live on the changeup alone. Nope, not in this league.

. . . Holy ----. Back-to-back-to-freakin'-back, with Mike Lowell hitting the longest yet, an absolute bomb that should be landing in your swimming pool at any moment. Oh, and that Joe Morgan? Love him! Give him another Emmy. He knows his stuff.

. . . All right, now this is getting ridiculous. Jason Varitek makes it four homers in nine pitches - the first time the Sox have ever hit four consecutive homers - and Chase Wright is morphing into Bobby Sprowl before our eyes. Theo Epstein's reaction sums it up best: "Oh. My. God." Wily Mo whiffs trying for five, but it's 4-3, Sox, and this one just got fun again.

FOURTH INNING
Nice, easy uneventful inning for Dice-K - in other words, just want you want your pitcher to do after the offense has just given you a lead.

Torre manages to get through his between-innings interview without sticking his finger in his nostrils. Progress, Joe. Progress.

Colter Bean, an enormous (6-foot-7) slopballer who spent a spring as a Rule 5 pick with the Sox a few years ago, is in for the Yankees. We're going to assume Chase Wright is either curled up in the fetal position in the shower or on a bus to Scranton. Probably the former.

Papi's wearing No. 42 tonight as the Sox are paying tribute to Jackie Robinson after rain washed out the original day of homage. Papi's one of the select few players I think should be permitted to wear Robinson's number on a regular basis - it just seems right to me that his number would be on the field, rather than permanently retired - though seeing the 42 on Papi's back is giving me Mo Vaughn flashbacks. Anyway, Mo . . . er, Papi is stranded on second after a double, and it's still 4-3, Sox.

FIFTH INNING
So it turns out Francona's dad, Tito, was involved the only other time in history that one pitcher gave up four consecutive home runs. Also, Drew was one of the Dodgers that hit four straight homers to win that memorable game in the ninth inning last season. Baseball always seems to have cool coincidences like that, doesn't it?

Jeter dinks a hanging slider (according to Morgan) into the Monster Seats, and it's 4-4. And no, that's probably not the only time "Jeter" and "dinks" have been mentioned in the same sentence.

Someone needs to tell Jon Miller than Dice-K doesn't throw a freakin' gyroball. I realize that working with Morgan all these years has probably broken his spirit, but he's starting to get annoying with the inane references to something that doesn't exist.

Dice-K throws several pitches that aren't gyroballs, striking out Abreu and A-Rod and getting Giambi to pop up to escape the inning. Time to up the dosage, G.

My wife just realized her Sunday night habit of watching "Desperate Housewives" was sacrificed for the sake of this blog, though it looks like the DVR saved the day. I actually find the show funny and well-written in a hammy sort of way, and of course there are other reasons for a guy to watch as well. Teri "They're real and they're spectacular" Hatcher, a pretty decent comedic actress, would probably get my vote for the show's hottest babe, if only because I've seen one too many frightening photos of Eva Longoria without makeup.

(What, you haven't seen the pics?)

(Well, trust me, you don't want to. You'll never look at her the same way again.)

(You want to see them? Really? Are you sure?)

(Okay, if you insist, but don't blame me if your retinas burn.)



(All right, it's not that bad. But it's not quite what she's selling on the show, either. Wonder if Tony Parker knows about this.)

Oh, and the Sox don't score.

SIXTH INNING
The number of Yankees I've liked over the years is roughly the same as the number of championship rings Alex Rodriguez has won, but I have to admit, I really am coming to appreciate - okay, like - Robinson Cano. Not only is he a line-drive machine who's going to win a batting crown or two, but he seems like a terrific kid who appreciates his place in the world. He also plays the game the right way, as his shrewd first-to-third baserunning on bloop single that fell in in front of Drew just put the Yankees in position to go ahead, 5-4, on a double-play grounder by Melky Cabrera.

Andy Pettitte, who started Friday in the opener of this series, is coming in in relief. Hmm, Torre knows he has a recent history of elbow problems, right? He remembers that an MRI that made Pettitte's elbow look like pastrami is the reason why the Yankees let him go after the 2003 season, right? Guess this is one of those April must-wins for the Yankees, because otherwise this really doesn't make much sense. When Pettitte's visiting Dr. James Andrews in July, let's remember this one.

Jon Miller just referred to Pettitte as "Clemens." Does he know something? Was there a formal union over the winter? Should we get them something? Candlesticks make a lovely gift. The new Mr. Clemens gets Papi to hit into an inning-ending double play, so I suppose the move works for now.

SEVENTH INNING
Dice-K whiffs Abreu on a nasty gyroball* to set the Yankees down in order in the seventh. Looks like Scott Proctor is coming in for the Yankees. Meanwhile, Pettitte is phoning Tommy John to ask for advice on how to comb his hair now that he can't lift his arm over his head.

* - Not actually a gyroball, but who would expect an Emmy Award-winning baseball broadcaster to recognize a forkball, anyway?

Manny greets Proctor with a hard single to right. When Manny starts smoking the ball the opposite way, it's a tell-tale sign that he's about to go on one of his patented tears. And it looks like he will get one more at-bat tonight. Just sayin'.

Drew inside-outs a curveball that scrapes off the wall in the left. Classic Fred Lynn double right there, and yes, Drew does remind me a lot of Fragile Freddy, for reasons mostly good.

Well, maybe those of us who have been fretting that Mike Lowell will suffer an offensive decline this season should shut the *%*% up for a while. Lowell just cranked his second homer of the night, three-run line shot off the base of the Coke bottles, giving the home team a 7-5 lead. Did we mention that this is - er, make that was - Proctor's 12th appearance in 17 games? Leave it to Torre to ride his horses until they turn into glue . . . in April. As it is, Proctor's out, and Luis Vizcaino, this year's version of Antonio Osuna and Felix Rodriguez, a hard thrower with a penchant for melting down, is in.

EIGHT INNINGS
After giving up a single to A-Rod on a 2-2 pitch, Dice-K's debut against the Yankees comes to an end with this line: 106 pitches, 7 innings, 8 hits, 1 walk, 7 Ks, 5 earned runs. Acceptable, though hardly an ace-like performance. I was mildly surprised he got a standing ovation, but then, he's leaving with the lead. I'll really complain when we start giving every damn home run hitter a curtain call.

The Yankees aren't going to surrender quietly, are they? After A-Rod's single, new folk hero Hideki Okajima gives up a single to left center by Giambi, bringing longtime Sox pest Jorge Posada to the plate as a pinch hitter. Suddenly, I'm sweating like Giambi.

Walk. Loaded. Okajima out, Donnelly in, Cabrera up. Hold me.

Cabrera grounds into a fielder's choice in which that little weasel Miguel Cairo swipes at Lugo to prevent him from turning two, and it's 7-6, Sox.

Suddenly, I feel kind of bad for all of the Pedroia short jokes. That was one hell of a clutch play. Then again, he probably wouldn't have been able to make that diving stab to rob Josh Phelps of what surely would have been a go-ahead two-run single had he not been so low to the ground in the first place. (Sorry. Old habits, you know.)

Papelbon is getting loose, with Damon, Jeter, and Abreu due up in the ninth. A few insurance runs here sure wouldn't hurt. Maybe four homers in a row, if that's not too much to ask?

Phelps is now catching for the Yankees, the first time he's caught in the big leagues since 2001. So far, he actually looks like he knows what he's doing.

Manny ropes hit No. 3 tonight. The hot streak is officially underway. Unfortunately, he's left stranded, and it comes down to Papelbon against the heart of the Yankees' order, just as it should, I suppose.

NINTH INNING
"Gritty at-bat by Damon," Jon Miller says, and I guess he's right, though I thought it was an unwritten rule that only David Eckstein can be called "gritty" after hitting a routine fly to left.

Now that's a fastball. Sit your intangibled ass down, Captain. Two outs.

Abreu walks on a high 3-2 fastball that looked like it was about 102 mph. Remember how A-Rod recently said that it always seems to come down to him, good or bad? I think he was onto something.

Mr. Clutch reverts to his Fenway form and bounces an 0-2 pitch to Lowell, and the Sox have their first sweep of the Yankees at Fenway since 1990. A hell of fun game, all in all. As for parting thoughts: It would have been nice if Dice-K could have spun a gem, but thanks to an offense that got a lot of production this weekend from some players (Coco Crisp, Lowell, Varitek) who had been concerning us, we're certainly satisfied with the final results. Hey, he's 1-0 lifetime against the Yankees, the Sox are 3-0 against the Yankees in '07, and it's starting to look like this could be a very interesting summer at Fenway. Nothing to bitch about here. Speaking of which: Remind me to pick up the New York tabloids tomorrow, will you?

I hate *$*#* winter

Just got home from Boston, my 1 hour 20 minute commute having turned into a 3-hour, white-knuckle whiteout of an ordeal thanks to the blinding freakin' snow squalls that I had no idea were coming. No joke, these were some of the worst conditions I've ever driven in, and I've lived in New England my whole snow-dreading life. I hate winter. Hate it. One of these years, I'm going to pack up the wife, the kids, one of the three cats, my Buffett and Marley CDs, and Jenna Fischer if she's willing, and head someplace warm like Bequia or St. John, and I'm not returning until I get confirmation that every last snowflake in the Northeast has melted. Did I mention I hate winter? I do. How much? It's December 8, and I'm ready to bash Frosty the Snowman's skull in with a snowshoe. That's how much.

(Deep breath)

Okay, now for a few leftovers from the winter (I hate that word) meetings. (God, I'm so ready for summer . . .)


Looks like Balco Barry will still be a San Francisco Giant when he breaks (insert asterisk here) Henry Aaron's all-time home run record. Bummer. I was intrigued by the fleeting Bonds-to-St. Louis rumor, if only because it made sense on a number of levels: Bonds would form a fearsome tandem with Albert Pujols in the St. Louis lineup, Tony La Russa is a well-known steroid sympathizer, the Stepford Cardinals fans would welcome him without wondering how his head got so damn swollen, and he could help Pujols make the transition from budding jerk into a full-blown *%*#*#**.

Ramirez straight-up for Soriano? Finally, a blockbuster! Wait . . . you mean we're talking Horacio Ramirez for Rafael Soriano? Okay, not such a blockbuster as their surnames might suggest, though I do find myself wondering why the Mariners would trade a power-armed, highly coveted setup man for Ramirez, who amounts to a fourth starter at best in the American League. Schuerholz, you've done it again.

Never thought I'd see the day the Sox were outbid by the Royals, but I have to give Kansas City credit for shelling out the dough for Octavio Dotel, who is more than a year removed from Tommy John surgery and offers a much higher reward than most of the usual relief suspects on the market. He was near the top of my Red Sox wish list, though I'd still prefer gambling on Eric Gagne.

However, I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that the Royals gave $55 million bucks to Gil Meche, who has a history of arm problems and reputation for indifference. Perhaps I'm a hypocrite considering the team I follow recently paid a similar amount of money simply for the sole rights to negotiate with a pitcher, but it seems an alleged small-market team like Kansas City would be reluctant to empty the vault on a pitcher with a career 4.45 ERA. Then again, maybe that's the lesson to take from this: the small-market teams aren't quite so small anymore. Well, except for the Marlins.

Manny for the fading and overpriced Todd Helton? C'mon now, I refuse to believe Theo would even consider such foolishness.

Count me as wholeheartedly on board with Tito Francona's plan to bat Kevin Youkilis second and Coco Crisp eighth, particularly if it leads to Crisp utilizing his wheels, finding a comfort zone, and rediscovering the good health and mojo that made him such a dynamic offensive player in Cleveland.

Words to mark: Someone is going to get a bargain in Keith Foulke. A grumpy bargain, and a creaky-kneed bargain, but a bargain nonetheless. The pitcher I saw in September, 2006 looked pretty close to the one I saw in October, 2004.

Nah, I'm not sweating the Matsuzaka situation. I remain convinced the Sox will get it done, but not without another week's worth of posturing by both sides.

Barry Zito, lefthanded pitcher, Texas Rangers? Could be, and for the bargain price of $102,000,000.00! Yep, sure looks like Scott Boras is going to play Tom Hicks for a rube again, isn't he? Can you say Chan Ho Zito? All right, maybe that's an exaggeration . . . but man, sometimes I wonder how these owners got so filthy rich when some of them are so clueless.

C'mon, Drayton McLane. Open up the safe and give Andy Pettitte the extra couple of million he's obviously angling for. No one outside of the Bronx wants to see the classy lefty wear pinstripes again. Keep the Houston boy home, and the hell away from pitching against us, 'kay?

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:


I knew there was something I didn't like about him.