They're a sinking ship! Get it? See the picture? It's a metaphor! The Sox are a sinking ship!!! It's sinking!!! AHHHHHHHHH!!!! (Glug-glug-glug . . .)

Sorry for that outburst there, folks. (Deep breath.) Seems the jackals are already getting to me. I turn on Sports Final tonight, and there's ol' Lobel declaring in all his orange day-glo smugness that tonight's 7-6 loss to the Devil Rays was the most "devastating loss of the season, by far." Naturally, his precious Panic Button, a gimmick about as funny as Lenny Clarke, is visible over his left shoulder. I can't believe he didn't play a clip from the "Titanic" while he was at it. He must be slipping.

It's funny, I used to wonder what certain TV/radio types would do with themselves after the Sox won a World Series and the fanbase achieved a new level of contentment. Well, now I know. They pretend nothing has changed - and if Sox fans aren't miserable, well dammit, they're going to do their best to make us so. Please, remind me to avoid 'EEI today on my commute. I can hear the Big Show bloviating already.

Now, I'm not denying that tonight's loss stinks and sucks, and if not for the foibles of Fausto Carmona and the otherworldly heroics of David Ortiz, we'd likely be sweating out a legitimate slide here. But a quick glance at the standings tells us the Sox are 20 games over .500, two back of the Yankees, a half-game out in the wild card. In other words, right where we expected them to be back in Ft. Myers. Don't you know this is how it happens every damn year? The Sox lead the AL East through much of the summer, the Yankees take it back late, and then all important matters are settled in the postseason.

Only then will we get our answers. For now, some questions . . .

• What the $*$& is up with the bullpen? Seriously, dude, what the #*$*&@*#*?

Here's my solution: Julian Tavarez needs to get himself gone, immediately. He's the human black cloud - every time he comes into a game, some atrocity happens, even if he's pitching adequately. Send him back to St. Louis, or Elm Street, or wherever he came from, and get his wretched karma away from this ballclub, before he accidentally pokes out Big Papi's eye during a walkoff celebration or something. As far as the rest of them? They all have their flaws. Mike Timlin is 40 and meatball-prone, Manny Delcarmen and Craig Hansen are feeling the growing pains, and Rudy Seanez never should have been offered a contract (though he has pitched well lately). Even Jonathan Papelbon has been human lately, blowing four saves in the last month and a half, and yes, I feel like a leech for even mentioning that. Listen, there isn't a bullpen in the big leagues that isn't having issues of some sort. There's enough to work with here that I believe they'll get it right, despite Al Nipper's involvement.

• Why is Josh Beckett on the cover of ESPN Magazine this week?

Because their in-depth feature on gritty, gutty Matt Clement fell through? Seriously, the timing of this is more than a little curious - does that rag publish three months in advance or something? Even an unabashed Beckett fan - quit staring at me! - has to concede that his first season in Boston has fallen somewhere between enigmatic and disappointing. The consensus opinion is that he'd become an elite starter if he'd just knock off the macho Nuke LaLoosh b.s., stop trying to throw his fastball at 110 miles per hour, and actually pitch a little when he gets into trouble. It makes sense. But it also strikes me as too obvious, too convenient. This mule can't be that stubborn . . . can he? You'd think after giving up 31 homers - one more than Manny has hit, for perspective - and watching his ERA teeter around the 5.00 mark, Beckett would have been open to adjustments long ago. Yet there he was, serving up straight 96 mph fastball after straight 96 mph fastball in his sixth-inning meltdown against Cleveland the other night, and I know I'm not the only one who noticed that neither Terry Francona nor Nipper visited the mound until the Indians had strung together seven straight hits. I almost wondered if he was left out there to learn a lesson. Then again, he doesn't seem to have learned any so far. The reasons for his bizarre, practically bipolar pitching performances remain a mystery.

• Can we use the injuries as an excuse?

Nah, we'll leave that to the Yankees, who somehow have convinced every teleprompter-reading nitwit from Bristol, Conn., to happy-happy joy-joy McCarverland that their ability to hang around in the AL East despite losing Gary Sheffield and Hideki Matsui is a wonderful tale of overcoming adversity. Give me a bleeping break. The Yankees have a payroll of approximately $280,987,992.83, and that's not including what they shell out for A-Rod's psychologists, Jeter's cosmotologists, and Giambi's chemists. I know Yankee fans have the curious desire to be both favorites and underdogs, but even they must admit that being able to purchase a Bobby Abreu for fistful of not-so-magic beans is a massive advantage that only they and their accountants hold. You have overcome nothing, okay? If you're looking for sympathy for the devil, obviously you've come to the wrong place. Maybe you'll prefer how the brilliant dudes at Fire Joe Morgan put it:

I am the 2006 New York Yankees! Here is my line-up:

CF Johnny Damon. $13 million.
SS Derek Jeter. $19 million.
1B Jason Giambi. $18 million.
DH Gary Sheffield. $13 million.
RF Bobby Abreu. $13 million.
3B Alex Rodriguez. $25 million.
LF Hideki Matsui. $13 million.
C Jorge Posada. $9 million
2B Robinson Cano. $381 thousand.

(Total for starting nine position players: $123 million. More than the Red Sox' 25 man-roster.)

How is this relevant? Well, when you have a lineup of players worth $123 million, and you lose $26 million worth of player, you still have a pretty (expletive) good lineup. The crazy patchwork lineups the Yankees have been trotting out there, full of (I'm not the good) M. Cabreras, A. Guiels, (the wrong) B. Crosbys, and A. Phillipses, are still anchored by the very expensive Misters Jeter, Rodriguez and Giambi, to say nothing of the fairly expensive Senors Damon and Posada. Spare me the what-a-goddamn-hero-Joe-Torre-is routine. The lineup at the beginning of the year was lethal -- a mockery of the game of baseball, in fact. No "winning culture" accounted for its ability to withstand the loss of two of its better hitters -- and not, I might add, its two best.

Have I mentioned that I love those guys? They make me so happy . . . I am the McCarver to their Jete-Jete. Hey, do you think they'll come out with an FJM cologne? (Ahem.) Um, anyway . . . about the Sox injuries. No, they are not an excuse. David Wells and Keith Foulke are back, Clement was ready to bury himself in a hole on the mound, Tim Wakefield apparently will return sooner rather than later, and Wily Mo Pena may well prove an upgrade on the powerless Trot Nixon. And while Jason Varitek's knee injury is the most painful blow, it's not quite as painful as it would be if he had hit with any authority over the past year, and I have to admit I catch myself wondering why so many pitchers underachieve on his watch. I don't mean to diminish his importance - even if the Captain Dirt Dog stuff is overstated, he obviously means a lot to the Sox for a myriad of reasons. But if Javy Lopez has any fuel left in the tank - a big if so far, admittedly - the Sox will survive until he returns.

• Who's driven?

Why, Jetes is! Also, he smells like grapefruit.


• What happened to the cute little birdy who captured the Fenway Faithful's hearts as he attempted to teach Doug Mirabelli how to take a secondary lead?

Ate him. (Burrrrp . . . dee-licious!) Actually, rumor has it that one of his predatory enemies did him in the day after his moment in the sun. But no worries - you'll be able to buy an autographed copy of his carcass on Remy's website any day now, and for the low, low price of $29.95.

• Should Theo have done something - hell, anything - at the trade deadline?

A trustworthy middle reliever would have been swell, but I'm beginning to wonder if those exist anymore. Other than that, I don't know what the Sox were supposed to do, especially given the rampant mediocrity that made up this year's market. To put it another way, I'd rather gamble that Wells has something left to give rather than take on someone like Jon Lieber. Heck, I'd rather take my chances with Foulke than acquire another journeyman from the Tavarez/Seanez assembly line. As for what they almost did, well, I give zero credence to the Clemens rumors - I suspect that was just the Hendricks brothers being the Hendricks brothers. (Jimi and Elrod, I believe Leigh Montville once called them.) I was opposed to the Lester-Hanson-Crisp for Andruw Jones swap . . . at least until word came that the Sox would then wheel Jones to Houston for two-time 20-game winner Roy Oswalt. Now that would have been an intriguing move. Oswalt has been the unsung ace in baseball the last few seasons, but he reminds me, in stuff and fragility, of Tim Hudson, and I'm not sure that bodes well for his future. Ultimately, I talked myself into believing I was glad the deal fell through . . . but give me, oh, six beers and I might change my mind. (Come to think of it, that's the exact philosophy that caused more than few awkward moments at UMaine back in the day.) I do know this much: as all the rumors flew, I dearly missed having Gammons around to help sort the fact from the fiction.

• How's it gonna be?

Man, you know times are desperate when I'm quoting Third-Eye Blind song titles - we usually leave that pop-hipster '90s nonsense to Bronson Arroyo around here. So let's just put this as plainly as possible: The. Sox. Will. Be. Fine. As long as Papi and Manny keep doing their modern-day Ruth and Gehrig routine, offense will not be an issue, and Schilling and Papelbon give them the top-of-the-rotation ace and door-slamming closer they lacked last year when, by the way, they made the playoffs for the third straight season. I remain convinced they'll make it four, and you can insert your own semi-charmed life reference here.

* * *
As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:



No, dear, he's no relation to Big Papi.

Nine innings: 07.31.06

Playing nine innings while waiting for Theo to pull off an unexpected deal . . .


1. First reaction to the news the Yankees acquired Bobby Abreu from the Phillies: How perfect. Another overpaid, over-30 offensive star for Georgie Porgie's collection. But fending off my cynicism for all things pinstriped for a moment, let me offer my honest assessment this way. I didn't want Abreu in Boston, but I'm not all that thrilled with him joining the Yankees, either. I wrote about this the other day, but Abreu is as enigmatic as any elite player in baseball, excluding Manny Being Manny. The pros? He's an on-base machine who will fit anywhere the Yankees slot him in the lineup. He has a gorgeous line-drive swing and is just about an impossible out when he's in a groove. And he's a fine defensive outfielder when the mood suits him . . . which leads us to the cons. Sometimes, he plays with a charmless indifference - he dogs it so often on grounders that Manny looks like David Eckstein by comparison, and he'll have days where he plays right field as if he's shagging batting practice. And his power shortage since last year's All-Star break is nothing short of alarming: in 171 games and 604 at-bats, he has just 14 home runs - and none in his last 132. The player he has been this season is worth a fraction of his eight-figure salary. It's a risk the Yankees can afford to take, and it's not like they gave up anything for him, but I don't think anyone really knows if he'll help as much as his talent suggests he should.

2. So how will the Sox counterpunch? Actually, I'm not so sure they should, because there just doesn't seem to be a whole lot out there on the market. The one intriguing player whose name keeps popping up in rumors real and Steve Phillips-imagined is Scott Linebrink, the Padres' consistently effective setup man. But the more I thought about it, the more I doubted Linebrink would be the pitcher in Boston that he is in San Diego. For one thing, he's no phenom, but more of a journeyman than I ever realized - the Padres actually got him for the $20,000 waiver price from the Astros a few years back - and I'm immediately suspicious of middling middle relievers who suddenly become effective in San Diego. I've seen a few too many Rudy Seanezes and Jay Witasicks revive their careers there (hmmm, could it be the close proximity to Tijuana?) then go on to revert to lousy form once they are sent off to perform in bigger markets and smaller ballparks. Linebrink's been nothing but excellent for San Diego . . . which makes me wonder why they'd move him, especially with Trevor Hoffman nearing the end. Maybe he's worth the risk, but for now, color me skeptical. The other name prominent in Red Sox trade rumors is Devil Rays shortstop Julio Lugo. Frankly, this mystifies me. Lugo is a decent offensive player with good speed, but he's erratic defensively with a scattershot arm, and if I recall correctly, he ended up with Devil Rays after Houston released him following an arrest for punching his wife in the face. Why Theo and Co. seem so fixated on this guy - his name has been coming up in trade rumors for a year now - is something I've never understood. I don't want him messing with the clubhouse chemistry, or the chemistry of that stellar infield defense. Lugo could have a negative effect on both. I'd rather stand pat.

3. This Week's Reason I Hope Jerry Trupiano Takes Up Skiiing:

I'm driving into work Wednesday listening to the first inning of the Sox-A's game. Joe Castiglione is reading Kyle Snyder's life story from the media guide. After telling us about every excruciating detail of Snyder's life up to and including his conception, birth, high school basketball career, medical history, and the number of chicks he hooked up with at North Carolina, he mentions Snyder's dad is an acclaimed heart surgeon who does "pro bono" work in Sarasota.

Enter Troop: "I used to eat at Sonny Bono's restaurant in Houston."

It is then, after the single tear runs down my cheek, that I start thinking a Castig-Jack Welch pairing would be an upgrade. (And I'm not even going to get into Troop's "Way back! WAY BACK! . . . And IT'S . . . caught at the wall!" call of a Trot Nixon fly ball in the 10th inning of a tie game Saturday, because really, it's no longer news when he painfully - or is it deliberately? - misjudges a call. By the way, I hate him.)

4. Cory Lidle is the slop-throwing embodiment of a league-average pitcher, but considering the Yankees' fifth-starter alternatives were Sidney Ponson, Shawn Chacon, and apparently either Ed Whitson or Dennis Rasmussen, he'll likely be an upgrade. All things considered, though, I'm glad he's headed to New York rather than Boston. Rather than acquiring a Lidle or a Jon Lieber (whose fastball is barely exceeding the speed limit these days), I'd rather take a chance that David Wells has enough bullets left in that blessed left arm to contribute down the stretch. While Wells looks like he has been on the Chris Farley diet plan - seriously, he's probably put on 20 pounds since he's been "rehabbing" - he is as effortless a pitcher as I've ever seen, and if his creaky knees can hold on through October, he will help the Sox more than any third-rate starter they might acquire.

5. Caught a few innings of one of those "Red Sox Classics" on NESN Sunday afternoon, a Sox-Tigers game from August '88. Beyond a seven-RBI performance by Dewey Evans, it didn't seem all that classic to me, though there were certainly enough comical and compelling reasons to watch. A few scattered observations: Rookie color analyst Jerry Remy squeaked like a backup singer for Alvin and the Chipmunks, and curiously, he kept referring to the "Tigahs." You can take the boy out of Fall Rivah but. . . It's a wonder what a two-pack-a-day habit and a phonics course or two will do for your voice . . . To borrow a phrase from Phil Hartman's Sinatra, Ned Martin has chunks of Don Orsillo in his stool . . . Six of the nine Sox starters had wicked pornstaches. Kevin Kennedy must have felt all tingly watching this team . . . I'm not saying everyone nowadays is on some performance enhancer or another, but the current Sox ballgirls are bigger than the '88 Sox's starting infield . . . Curiously, most of them also have better mustaches . . . I tried to resist that joke, honest . . . For perspective, Clemens was five years into his Sox career at this point. Amazing . . . Mrs. TATB, upon seeing Sparky Anderson: "Wow, he's old. He must be dead now, right?" . . . Nope, still kickin', and only 72. I bet he was born looking like he was 60 . . . In his prime, Alan Trammell was every bit the player Captain Jetes is . . . If only he could have mastered the fist-pump . . . Fenway looks so much more beautiful now than it did then. The Monster needed a coat of paint, the infield dirt looked like a high school field, and the outfield had more bare patches than my lawn. Doesn't even look like the same place.

6. I hate to do this because I like the guy personally and as a pitcher, but dammit, you jackals and mouthbreathers are forcing my hand, so here goes: Bronson Arroyo has not won in eight starts. After an 8-2 start, he is now 9-7. He has a 5.45 ERA in July. He is not going to win the first of 47 consecutive Cy Young Awards this season. He may not win more than he loses. Yes, he would help the Red Sox . . . but so will the manchild he was dealt for, Wily Mo Pena, and judging by Limp Nixon's well-practiced Freak Injury Grimace last night, we should be pretty freakin' grateful that this kid is around. So what say we let it go now, okay?

7. A kindly reader informed me that The Office's Jenna Fischer - the Official Stalkee of TATB - appears sorta nude in August's edition of Jane magazine. Now, I've never bought Jane, even for the articles. Hell, I've never heard of Jane. But it's amazing what you can learn - and see - with the assistance of Google. I'll be in my room if you need me.

8. According to baseballreference.com, the three most similar players to Bruce Sutter are, in order, Doug Jones, Tom Henke, and Jeff Montgomery. Wow, check out these baseball immortals, Dad! Jeff Montgomery! As if I needed further proof that Sutter - who had a few phee-nomenal seasons (check out '77) and a few lousy ones in an injury shortened career - has no business in the Hall of Fame. Even if you are a believer that Sutter's legacy is enhanced by his trendsetting mastery of the splitfingered pitch, you simply cannot justify his election ahead of the criminally overlooked Goose Gossage, the second-most dominating closer I've witnessed (the incomparable Mariano Rivera being his lone superior). Gossage's comps happen to be a couple of guys named Fingers and Wilhelm. Now that's Hall of Fame company.

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



In honor of our old friend Crazy Carl getting a pink slip from the Mariners this week, and because this cracks me up every time I read it and it'd be a shame if anyone misses it, here's a hilarious comment reader Andrew left on my last post:

I love Carl Everett jokes. I live in Chicago and I'm a White Sox fan. I attended a game a couple years ago, when Everett was playing for the Sox. I was sitting with a few friends a few rows behind the Sox dugout.

His first time up, Everett hit a slow roller up the third base line that should have gone for a hit. Third base had been playing him deep, and the ball took forever to get up the line. Forever.

Of course, Everett was thrown out by a mile. As Everett walked back to the dugout, the park fell oddly silent, one of those random moments of quiet that sometimes descends during a game. A friend of mine took full advantage, yelling, "A Stegosaurus would have made it," just as Everett approached the dugout.

The entire section broke up, and Carl stopped at the steps of the dugout to glare at us. Good times.

(Dabbing at tears) Sometimes you guys make me so proud. (sniff)

Chasing the headlines

Questions/I've got some questions . . .



• Feeling bad for A-Rod yet?

Considering ol' blue lips made more $$$$$$ in the time it took me to write that sentence than I'll make in the next 10 years, uh, no, I'm not feeling bad for Slappy McWhippingboy. The story is relentlessly fascinating, though. First, it's almost as if the soulless New York tabloid media (and to an extent, the Yankees' counterproductive fans) are on his case in part just to see how far they can push him. It's almost like they want to break him, want him to turn into another Knoblauch before their eyes, want him to feel unworthy, want to run perhaps the most talented player in baseball out of town for no other reason than because he is not Derek Jeter-McCarver, Captain of All Things Intangible. There's something voyeuristic and intensely cruel about what's happening here. I've always thought it was a matter of time before A-Rod seized the moment and carried the Yankees to a playoff series victory or two - and then I realized he'd already done it, against the Twins in '04, and everyone was too busy getting gauzy camera angles of Jeter's reactions to notice. Because of the burden of expectations, his monster contract and his calculated, insincere persona, A-Rod gets no leeway or credit for anything he has accomplished - it's what's expected of him, after all. So here is now, strangling the bat, grinding the damn thing into sawdust in his hands, trying to hit a five-run homer and wondering what the hell he's supposed to do. Here he is now, slinging air-mailed throws into the first base boxes, consulting one more quack psychologist, and spending sleepless nights asking why he ever agreed to change positions for that smirking jerk to the left, the alleged captain who defended Giambi but so tellingly refused to defend him. It's a colossal mess, and while as a Red Sox fan I hope he continues to submarine the Yankees, as a baseball fan I hope he gets his ---- straight, because it would be a shame for his talent to be devoured by the jackals. Let's just hope by the time he gets it together - if he gets it together - he's playing for the Phillies, or somewhere else far from this rivalry.


• What the hell did Harold Reynolds do to get fired by ESPN?

That's the question of the day. No one seems to know right now, but it must have been a doozy. Consider: This is the network that employs Mike Tirico, a serial sexual harasser if Mike Freeman's ESPN: An Uncensored History is to be believed. This is the network that employs Steve Phillips, who settled a sexual harassment suit while he was the general manager of the Mets in '98. This is the network that gave Rick Sutcliffe (bleep-faced on the air), Gary Miller (unleashed his bladder on a cop) and Michael Irvin (that's not my crack pipe, officer!) slaps on the wrist after particularly high-profile public embarassments. It's sort of a bummer, because while Reynolds wasn't exactly the most insighful analyst we've ever heard ("If you keep the ball down, you're going to pitch a no-hitter"), he was pleasant enough, clearly loves baseball, and wasn't an ignorant, screaming narcissist like, oh, I don't know, EVERYONE ELSE IN GOD-FORSAKEN BRISTOL! So he must have committed a pretty serious transgression to get canned. Probably refused to subscribe to ESPN Mobile or something.

• So who should "Baseball Tonight" hire to replace Reynolds?

Why, the Eck, of course. But considering they were stupid enough to hire Kruller Kruk over him in the first place, I imagine the best baseball analyst around will remain planted alongside Tom Caron for the foreseeable future. Hey, Sam Horn is available. And they can have Jim Rice, whom I'm pretty sure doesn't actually watch the games.

• Did you happen to catch Tony Gwynn's appearance on "The Best Damn Sports Show" a few days ago?

Yup, flipping channels, because I would never admit to watching that creepy, faux-camaraderie abomination on purpose. Man, it was shocking - Gwynn was pleasantly plump as a player, but now he looks like he swallowed the San Diego Chicken whole. Seriously, someone needs to say something to him before another beloved player of my generation goes the tragic way of Kirby Puckett. He's that fat.

• Why did Coco leap at the wall for Adrian Beltre's inside-the-park home run when it was five feet behind him?

Because Coco's GPS tracking system as a center fielder is severely defective. Does he ever take the proper route to a ball? It's like watching Bernie Williams before he turned completely to stone - his good speed usually makes up for atrocious instincts. But when it doesn't, it gets Hoseyesque.

• Were you surprised that Shea Hillenbrand napalmed his bridges in Toronto? He always seemed like a decent guy in Boston.

Let's put it this way. Someone I know who's around the Sox on a regular basis says Hillenbrand is the dumbest person he's ever met. Not professional athlete, mind you. Person. Even by the lowbrow standards of a baseball clubhouse, Hillenbrand has long been considered tactless and crude - you might recall him going on the radio and calling Theo a Guillen word for Mariotti upon his trade to Arizona in '03 - and even his friends (such as the dignified Vernon Wells) admit that it takes a long time knowing him to realize he's not a complete jerk. It's funny, when he made the Sox unexpectedly out of camp in 2001, he had sort of a wide-eyed, Opie-from-Mayberry persona. By most accounts, that lasted about a month, or as long as it took for all the scuzzbags on that team to convince him that real big leaguers were supposed to have a sense of entitlement and bitch about everything. Is it any wonder he still counts Carl Everett among his best friends in baseball? I don't know if Hillenbrand believes in dinosaurs. But I'm pretty sure he plays with toy ones.

• You claim to like Neyer and James a lot, but you don't use stats that often. Gimme a couple off the top of your head, Stat Boy.

Neyer and James - wasn't that a wine cooler back in the day? I think it's A-Rod's drink of choice if I recall correctly - Blue-Lippin' Blueberry, right? Anyway, got a couple:

1. "Light-hitting" Alex Gonzalez has two more home runs than Jeter (or, if you prefer, Trot Nixon. What was it that Trot was doing differently back when he had power, anyway?) And by the way, Sutcliffe blathered again last night that Jeter is the best defensive shortstop in the AL. Yup, I'm pretty sure he was drinking on their air again. You, me and A-Rod know that Gonzo is so much better than Jeter it's not even worth debating.

2. In his 13 wins, Josh Beckett has an ERA below 2.50 and a WHIP below 1. So while the 'EEI mouthbreathers and banshees can claim that he's been a bust, the fact is that when he's good - and he's been good enough to lead the majors in wins - he is dominating. (Of course, that also means he has been getting absolutely shellacked when he loses . . . but still, let me make my point, will ya?) As you've probably figured, I couldn't be happier with the three-year, $30 million dollar deal he signed last week. It locks up a talented young potential ace through his prime seasons at a very reasonable price (the less talented, less accomplished A.J. Burnett got two years and $25 million dollars more as a free agent), and Beckett gets a little bit of security and the comfort of knowing he's going to spend the next three seasons pitching in a place he enjoys. It's currently a win-win situation, with many more wins to come.

• The Sox are 2.5 up on the Yankees. Confident this is the year they win the East?

Confident, yes. Convinced . . . not quite. I think the Yankees will do something big before the deadline - my money is on a deal for Bobby Abreu, hopefully with Brian Cashman caving in and giving up prized Double A pitcher Philip Hughes. It would be a classic Yankees move - getting a big-name, big-money player who isn't entirely necessary and would detract from the already questionable chemistry (who sits when/if Sheffield and Matsui come back?) While Abreu is an on-base machine, he left his power at the 2005 Home Run Derby, and his nonchalance on the bases makes Manny look like Pete Rose. They can have him. As far as the Sox go, they obviously need to find a fifth starter, though I'm thinking there might be some validity in Jason Varitek's touting of Kyle Snyder. The stork version of Bronson Arroyo really does have good stuff - a legtimately above-average 12-to-6 curve, a tailing, sinking fastball, and enough command to spot his upper 80s heater. You can see the traces of the pitcher who was a high first-round pick a half-decade ago. If he could stay healthy and build up his stamina to get past the fifth inning once in a while, I think the Sox may have found something here. But if it doesn't work out, I wouldn't be surprised to see Theo make a trade for someone such as Jon Lieber, who's struggled for the Phillies this year but pitched very well for the Yankees in the '04 postseason. I never understood why the Yankees signed him after Tommy John surgery, paid for his year of rehab, then sent him on his way the season after they began reaping some rewards from their investment. But back to the main point, I think the Sox are the better team, and with a few minor tweaks here and there, that superiority will be reflected in the season's final standings.

• Finally . . . why is A-Rod holding that friggin' guitar?

Because, A-Rod rocks, yo! Actually, Bernie told him it would make him look sensitive. Also, he plans to smash it over Jeter's head when no one's looking. Then he can play shortstop again and everyone will love him, he just knows it.