New York groove

Playing nine innings while waiting for J.D. Drew to take the damn bat off his shoulder . . .

1. I've been reluctant to declare American League East race ovah, for two reasons: First, there is a tendency among certain media members to race to become the first to pronounce the Yankees dead . . . and then, when they inevitably crawl out of the crypt, history is somehow revised and spun so that it was really the numbskull fans who were the ones claiming matters were settled when there were 60 games remaining. The habit is as transparent as it is annoying, and I don't want to be one to fall into that trap. Besides, while it would be a nice little milestone to win the AL East for the first time since '95, we all know that all that really matters is getting to the postseason. So I'm waiting to see the cold corpse of the Yankees' playoff hopes before I deliver any gleeful eulogies. As for the second reason, well, basically it's this: I have been, to quote Arthur Fonzarelli, wr-wr-wr-wr-wrong about so much this year - from my skepticism of jockey-like Dustin Pedroia's ability to hit major league pitching to the certainty of a Mike Lowell annual second-half collapse to my willingness to be talked into believing Drew was a shrewd signing - that I'm hesitant to look into my crystal ball knowing that another off-the-mark proclamation will make me look as clueless as a WEEI fill-in host.

2. I think Dice K will eventually prove to be worth every last yen the Red Sox paid for him; once he becomes fully acclimated to major league baseball and the lifestyle, he'll be a damn fine No. 2 starter at the worst, and becoming one of the elite pitchers in the game is certainly an attainable goal. But right now . . . well, he's good, very good on occasion, but he's also just so frustrating, particularly on nights like tonight. His command isn't what we were told it was - he serves up way too many flat, fat breaking balls - and I can't help but wish he had an extra two or three miles per hour on his fastball. As for those 15 runs he's allowed in 19.1 innings against the Yankees this season? Not acceptable for any pitcher, let alone one of his accomplishment and skill.

3. Dr. Charles surely would revoke my Red Sox Nation membership card for saying this (presuming I were sucker enough to fall for such a transparent, insulting money grab), but Yankee phenom Joba Chamberlain's stuff is so electric and his back story so compelling, I have to admit I genuinely enjoy watching the kid pitch. And yes, I say that with the knowledge that, good health permitting, he'll be tormenting the Sox for the next decade or so. Hey, every now and then the baseball fan wins out over the Red Sox fan.

4. Four of Derek Jeter's nine home runs this season have come against the Red Sox, a stat that probably manages to be both impressive and puzzling if you're a Yankees fan. (Then again, if you're a Yankees fan, most things are puzzling, particularly the concept of good hygiene. Sorry. Too easy.) In all seriousness, it's impressive that Jeter manages his best performances against the Yankees' main rival, but it has to be puzzling that Captain Calm-Eyes has been fist-pumpin' his way to a .258 batting average and a .619 OPS in 99 at-bats this month. Maybe I'm just taking a small sample size out of context, and maybe last night's homer was a sign that he was on the verge of a playoff-push hot streak, but right now I have the same suspicion about him that I've had about David Ortiz for much of the season. He's playing through more than a few bumps and bruises, and we'll find out just how seriously he is injured only when the season ends.

5. Cracks me up how Roger Clemens's mediocre performance has relegated his apologists to mythologizing his impact as a "mentor" to the Yankees' young pitchers. Uh-uh, that's exactly why he's being paid a pro-rated $28 million - to carry a few clipboards for Ron Guidry. I hope the Sox light him up so badly that today's lesson for Joba and other impressionable young Yankee minds includes this annual staple of the Rocket syllabus: How To Limp Off the Mound With a Groin "Tweak" While Trailing 8-0 in the Second Inning 101. Man, I do enjoy that class.

6. Quick Patriots aside: I'm a transactions junkie as it is, but NFL cutdown day is going to be extra fascinating this season because of the Patriots' ridiculous depth. I thought coming into camp that Reche Caldwell was a longshot to stick, and he's done nothing in camp to change my mind, though it might not be the worst idea to keep a receiver who has some chemistry with Tom Brady until the new guys get acclimated. (I'd be curious to see how huge Caldwell's eyes get when the Turk tells him coach wants to see him and to bring his playbook.) Defensively, veterans who seem to be on the bubble include Chad Brown (why was he brought back in the first place?), Tory James and/or Dante Wesley, and for some reason I wonder if Junior Seau and Eric Alexander are as secure as they seem.

7. I liked Johnny Damon a whole hell of a lot better two weeks ago when he was washed up. The Yankees will undoubtedly try to dump him and the two years remaining on his contract in the offseason, and given the mileage on his legs and the emergence of Melky Cabrera, that's probably prudent. But he's suddenly hitting again, even as Joe Torre's reluctant 10th man, and I'm pretty sure he could be clomping around on a peg leg out there and he'd still find a way to torment the Sox.

8. I'm not saying Kevin Cash (.172 lifetime average) should be Doug Mirabelli's successor, but he sure has done a fine job proving that Mirabelli isn't the only living organism in the milky way capable of catching Tim Wakefield successfully, and for that I will remember him fondly.

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


I love the Lee Elia "playground-for-the-expletives" meltdown . . . and Earl Weaver's social tips for Alice Sweet . . . and in the non-sports division, Kasey Kasem's profanity-laced rant remains a No. 1 hit . . . but for my pure listening pleasure, this bleep-faced appearance by the Red Baron on a Padres telecast last season is the greatest piece of audio since the invention of ears. At certain points, he sounds so much like Wooderson that I half expect him to say, "Get busy livin' or get busy dyin', man." But the best part? Play-by-play guy Matt Vasgergian's bewildered "Clooney?" It gets funnier every time I hear it.

Dazed and confused

It's late, I'm gassed, and the Sox pretty much ruined what was a perfect Sunday at the beach. If you've come here for rational discourse, check back another day. I'm here to vent, and I expect it will be even less coherent than usual. Thanks for your tolerance. - TATB Management

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Well, if it's possible to hit rock bottom while still leading the division, I suppose this is it.

Actually, make that I hope this is it. Tell me it won't get worse for your first-place-for-the-moment Boston Red Sox, who watched as Eric "Gasoline" Gagne torched a late-inning lead for the second time in three days, then had to suffer the indignity of watching that old cowboy Kevin Millar waddle around the bases in the 10th inning after walloping a walkoff homer. The most agonizing loss of the season? Definitely . . . since Friday, at least.

Sure seems like a loonnng time since the Sox stole one in the late innings like the Orioles did twice in this series. Yes, Baltimore has atoned for the Mother's Day Miracle quite effectively. It was so much more fun when Sam Perlozzo was employed and the Orioles were our patsy.

So here's the fallout. After losing two of three to the Orioles and four of six overall, the Sox' lead in the division is down to four games, their smallest margin since May 1. All the Bleacher Buttafuocos in the Bronx are undoubtedly drooling on their wife-beaters at the thought of a repeat of '78, and I'm sure Murray Chass and the other usual media suspects already have Bucky Dent on speed dial. And you know what? At the moment, I do not blame them.

We might as well admit it: The Yankees will be in the postseason for the 26th straight season. They are 23-8 since the All-Star break, just emasculated a very good Cleveland team at Jacobs Field, and have a team OPS since the break of .947, which is the equivalent of having nine Vlad Guerreros in their lineup. Andy Pettitte is having his typically strong second half, Mike Mussina is fending off his osteoporosis surprisingly well, Philip Hughes and Joba Chamberlain are worthy of every syllable of hype, Mariano Rivera is hitting 97 on the gun again . . . and did we mention that the offense is ridiculously, historically hot? It was fun while it lasted, that double-digit lead, but the reality of the moment is this: The Yankees are a very, very good baseball team right now.

Perhaps better than the one ahead of them in the standings.

I hate to sound like an 'EEI banshee here, and it's largely the frustration from today's loss that's making me think this way, but I have to be honest: I will be pleasantly surprised if the Red Sox are in first place when the teams meet again at the end of the month. Actually, let me put that another way: Some things will have to change - immediately - if the Sox are going to maintain what's left of their lead.

First and foremost, someone needs to start hitting with runners on base. I loved "Moneyball" and believe Bill James to be truly brilliant, but this team is making compelling case that OPS is one of those classic lies-and-damn-lies statistics. The Sox have a bunch of patient hitters, and the bases are often occupied, but there's no one to drive them in. Hell, David Ortiz, Manny Ramirez, and J.D. Drew, the alleged 3-4-5 hitters, have 43 homers between them, or four more than A-Rod alone. How pathetic is that? It's almost enough to make me look forward to the franchise's inevitable pursuit of The Artist Formerly Known As Slappy McBluelips in the offseason.

I realize Papi's hurting from shoulder to knee, and he's about the last player in Red Sox history I want to criticize, but I can't help but wonder why he didn't get that troublesome meniscus scoped in the offseason. And I think I've made my adoration for Manny obvious over the years, but even his most willing apologist has to admit he's slipped just enough to make his sideshow antics annoying rather than quirky - and when was the last time he hit a three-run homer, anyway? Mike Lowell is a swell guy and everyone likes him, but he's in the midst of his annual second-half power outage . . . Kevin Youkilis is closer to being Carlos Quintana than he is to being Wade Boggs, and wasn't that breathless early season comparison a lot of over-the-top hype? . . . Drew is looking like the worst free-agent signing since Wayne Garland . . . hell, you get the gist. They've gotta hit, now, or else Theo's inability to make a deal for Jermaine Dye is going to haunt them.

The blessing is that they've had the best pitching in the league for the better part of the season, and there isn't a better 1-2 punch in the league than Josh Beckett and Dice-K, whose recent brilliance has, surprisingly, gone mostly unnoticed. And despite his Chad Fox imitation, I think Gagne will be an asset, especially once Jason Varitek realizes he has both a changeup and a curveball. (However, the eighth inning belongs solely to Hideki Okajima until Gagne finds his mojo.) I am curious why Tito Francona (who has generally done an outstanding job again this season, the clueless, "FranComa"-spewing nitwits be damned) didn't use Jonathan Papelbon in the 10th today - he is being babied a little too much, unless there's something we don't know.

I expect the pitching staff will continue to be the backbone of this team, and on a better day I'd probably admit that their staff depth alone is enough to ensure there will be playoff baseball at Fenway Park come October. But right now, a four-game lead feels quite small. It's time for this team to rise back to the surface and start playing like a legitimate contender again.

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As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:


So far, Gagne's making that trade look pretty good by comparison.

Two great seasons

So tell me, which empire is more anxious right now: that decrepit, ancient dynasty crumbling in the Bronx, or Jordan's Furniture and its marketing wizards who, at least according to the accounts here, might be wondering if they made a multimillion-dollar miscalculation by pandering to Sox fans?

The Yankees' problems are well-documented, particularly if you are one of those Boston fans who engages in a little bit of schaedenfreude and checks out the New York tabloids each morning. (Some variation on "JOE MUST GO!!" seems to be a rather popular headline theme these days.) And we admit we chuckle at the thought of Jordan's shrewd "We're betting on the Red Sox!" promotion backfiring to the point that a second world championship in four years would force them to fork over enough free loveseats and sectionals to furnish every spare room in New England. Talk about a win-win situation.

Now, it's not like we're not setting aside a portion of our paycheck to save for World Series tickets just yet . . . but man, what's happening at Fenway Park right now is pretty amazing, isn't it? The Sox, 28-12 and 10 (ten!) games ahead of the Yankees at this writing, are just plain feelin' it, as evidenced by Thursday's doubleheader sweep of the AL champion Tigers. In the first game, the hero was the fifth starter, Julian Tavarez. In the second win, the hero was the fifth outfielder, Eric Hinske. When the roster's afterthoughts are sharing turns in the spotlight, you know times are good.

So can they keep it up? Can they run away with this thing and take all suspense out of the summer? Let's put it this way: If you can promise that they will stay reasonably healthy, I'll guarantee that they'll win their first AL East title since the managerial days of that mustache-farming, Canseco-coddling egomaniac, Kevin Kennedy. The offense is leading the AL in runs despite limited contributions from Manny and J.D. Drew, and even if the likes of Mike Lowell and the criminally underappreciated Kevin Youkilis cool off, they should put plenty of crooked numbers on the scoreboard. Plus, their elite starting pitching will prevent long losing streaks, and while their lengthy lead gives them the luxury to let ace Josh Beckett's "avulsion" heal, this time around there is no shortage of depth in the organization. Kason Gabbard (a Francona favorite) and TATB binky Devern Hansack should at least be replacement level fill-ins, and they might prove better than that. There will be no gruesome Kevin Jarvis cameos this year.

If you have any complaints about this team, then I guess Rick Pitino was right - we really are the fellowship of the miserable. While it might be tough to shake the old habit of grumbling about Wily Mo Pena's whiffs or Coco Crisp's ongoing struggles or whatever it is you rail against, we need only to cast an eye to toward the Bronx to see what legitimate woes look like. And you know what? While it's against my upbringing in the Nation to write off a franchise with the resources of the Yankees - you know they'll pick up another Bobby Abreu, someone else's salary dump, at the deadline if they are anywhere near the playoff hunt - they look like a dead team walking to me, and I don't think they have the necessary resolve, camaraderie, and pitching depth to pull themselves out of this hole. If they lose two of three to the Mets this weekend and two of three to the Sox in the next series - and please, baseball gods, let this happen; let the Sox leave cleat marks on their throats - someone will jostle Georgie Porgie awake long enough for him to finally fire Joe Torre. And while Yankees fans are desperately clinging to the irrelevant past, citing 1978 as an example of Yankee ingenuity, deep down they must know that Bob Lemon isn't walking through that door (and if he did, he'd be old, grey, and, um, dead.)

It's not like Don Zimmer is conveniently clutching his throat in the opposing dugout, either, which brings us to another crucial element of the Sox team: it's outstanding manager. Terry Francona long ago established himself as the finest Sox manager of my lifetime - outwitting Mike Scioscia, Torre, and tony La Russa consecutively in the postseason, as he did to a surprisingly little amount fanfare in '04, tends to go a long way toward enhancing a manager's reputation. But this season, everything he has touched as turned to gold, from his deft handling of the Dustin Pedroia/Alex Cora situation at second base to his willingness to give Hideki Okajima a prominent role when most of us assumed he was just here to caddy for Dice-K, to dealing with all the ancillary stuff that comes with managing in Boston. One of these days, Tito will get his due as one of the best in the game.

From the manager, to the lineup, to the pitching staff, it's all good, and provided the disabled list doesn't beckon too often, I just don't see anything but sunny days ahead. What is it that the Pink Hats - oh, and all right, a few of us secret sentimentalists, too - like to sing in the seventh inning? Good times never seemed so good. Yeah, that sounds about right. Mr. Diamond's sequined sentiments couldn't be more appropriate - and here's guessing they'll last all summer long. Who knows, maybe even right up until the joyous moment you realize the couch you're planted on to watch the Sox win the World Series just became a freebie.

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All right, now for the important stuff: Thursday's season finale of "The Office." Maybe I shouldn't admit this, but I probably anticipated this week's episode with more eagerness than I will any Sox game this season before October. And I have to say, it was at least as satisfying as, oh, an early-season sweep of the Yankees - you know, back when they were good.

Now, if you're among the clueless masses who prefer mind-numbing dreck like "Grey's Anatomy,"" well, just surf on over to Cats That Look Like Hitler or wherever you usually roll after stopping in here, because today we simply must discuss this heartwarming, ribald, subtle, downright hilarious television masterpiece. I don't care if you don't care, because I do, and you should.

So many snippets from last night's show are replaying on the DVR in my mind: Jan's upgraded "chariots" . . . Michael selling his condo on eBay . . . Creed's blog . . . Schrutebucks and Stanley Nickles . . . "I'm not gay" . . . that slippery weasel Ryan's classic kicker ("You and I are done") which was foreshadowed by his refusal to get Michael coffee ("I don't do that anymore") . . . and of course, Jim's interview, when he discovers Pam's sweet callback to the Office Olympics episode and has his moment of clarity about following his heart back to Scranton.

It seems ridiculous now, given the ultimately well-executed story arcs that began back long before we'd ever become familiar with the pig-latin version of Rainbow Connection, Scrantonicity, or Prison Mike, but there was much talk early in this season that it wasn't living up to the standard set by Season 2. But in the end - make that at the end - it might have surpassed it. Casino Night, last season's flawless Steve Carell-penned finale, remains the most perfect single episode of any television show I have ever seen. Yet the last two installments this season were nearly its equal, meshing writing that makes a hack like me wonder why I ever bothered learning how to type with the perfectly cast actors (right down to the most minor supporting player) who give life to their words.

Which brings us to Ms. Fancy-New-You-Know-Who. You dopes give me a hard time (that's what she . . . ) about my fanboy odes to Jenna Fischer, and when I say cheeseball things like she's the most appealing woman I've ever seen among all the ones I'm not married to, well, I probably deserve it. But I challenge you to watch as her face transforms from shock to radiant, affirming joy in that wonderful closing scene above without crushing on both the character and the actress. That culminating moment alone should earn her an Emmy nomination. (And of course, as several emails noted - some laced with more snark than others - it's our duty to wish the Official Muse of TATB, Non-Wife Division a speedy recovery after she broke her back in four places after falling down a marble staircase in New York earlier this week. She's fortunate she wasn't hurt worse, and it sounds like she should be okay by the time the show begins filming again. Just a guess, but the sight of Jim pushing her around in a wheelchair in next season's premiere would have been a twist even the Office's ace staff of writers would have trouble working into the script.)

Anyway, at the typically pitch-perfect understated end, it all came full-circle, didn't it? Last year, Pam gave Jim a reason to leave Scranton. This year, she gave him a reason to come back. And so we come to a necessary question now that "it's a date" and they are apparently together at last. Where do they go from here? Requieted love has sent more popular shows into a death spiral (David and Maddy, anyone?), but I have complete faith that that will not happen here. The writers are too adept to fall into the Rachel/Ross melodrama, and besides, there is as much potential with Pam and Jim together as there is with them apart. And it's not like there aren't other open-ended plot points worth looking forward to - or did you forget that Ryan is now poor, shellshocked Michael's boss and whacked-out Jan is his roommate? To pilfer a line from a previous Thursday night NBC show of note: It's gold, Jerry. Gold. Season 4 can't arrive soon enough.

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Couple of quick links in case you've wondering where a wise all week. Here's the weekly FOX column, beginning with an ode to Rockies slugger Matt Holliday, and here's a short piece we wrote for Red Sox GameDay about the Sox's worst position-by-position defensive players of all-time. As always, thanks for reading, and I really should be around here more often now that the relationship with Boston.com is official. Honest.

Questionable content

Digging through the email box (and the cobwebs in my mind) to answer questions both real and imagined . . .

From reader Steve K.: The Sox just *****-slapped the Yankees again. They're on pace to win something like 110 games. I'm a believer. This team looks stacked, and Manny's not even hitting yet. So when do I get my playoff tickets?

You know, I like to pretend I'm the voice of reason around here, never too high after a big win, never too low after an agonizing loss, yada yada . . . but damn, it's pretty much impossible for even an accomplished cynic not to be sky-high about the 2007 Red Sox's long-term chances right now, isn't it? Just consider the positives in this 15-7 start: Josh Beckett is having an April matched only by Pedro and the Babe in Red Sox annals, and not only does he look like a pitcher who's found his groove, but he's talking like one, admitting he made the mistake of throwing "hard, harder, and hardest" during his first season in Boston . . . The expensive new guys, from Julio Lugo (he's been nothing less than dynamic) to J.D. Drew (their most complete player) to Daisuke Matsuzaka (who flashes an ace's knack for limiting the damage in the innings where his command goes on the fritz), have justified every zero on their paychecks so far . . . Papi is still Papi, god bless him, and the offense will find another gear when Manny finds his form any moment now . . . Jason Varitek and Mike Lowell look rejuvenated, suggesting that reports of their demise (ahem) were greatly exaggerated . . . The middle relief, in particular Hideki Okajima, has been far better than expected, and Joel Pineiro looks improved with each appearance . . . Jonathan Papelbon is doing a spot-on Goose Gossage imitation. All he needs is the fu manchu . . . and Terry Francona continues to be the most underrated manager in the game, especially considering all of the b.s. about bloody socks and the like that he has to put up with here. So, uh, yeah, we're pretty enthusiastic about the summer ahead. Does 120 wins sound unreasonable?

From Greasymustacheandastainedtanktop, Mom's extra bedroom, The Bronx: Yo, please tell me the standings are printed upside down. This ain't really happening, is it? My whole self-image depends on the Yankees' success! If they suck, why, that means I do too! YO!

It's all true, Greasystache, and can you imagine where they'd be without A-Rod's otherworldly start? Oh, right . . . last place. Heh. But I think we all know better than to write the Yankees off in April. Once the weather heats up and Hideki Matsui gets healthy, their lineup will be relentless enough that they'll win a lot of 12-9 games, and Chien-Ming Wang and Mike Mussina should steady that wretched rotation with 30 or so wins between them. And you have to figure they'll add a few bullpen arms and whatever else they need at the trade deadline. However, and I hesitate to say this, but something feels different this time around, doesn't it? Maybe it's that Joe Torre already seems to be managing out of desperation at the expense of his bullpen's health, or maybe it's the fact that Mariano Rivera (zero saves) is 38 years old and suddenly looks very hittable, or maybe it's the fact that bringing up a clearly not-ready-for-prime-time Philip Hughes reeks of desperation . . . but these just don't look like the Yankees we've grown to loathe so much. Yeah, it's only the season's beginning. But from what we've seen so far, it's not out of the question that in the Bronx, it's the beginning of the end.

From reader Dave R.: I know it's pretty much impossible to guess what the Patriots will do in the draft. But you don't you figure they have to take a linebacker at either #24 or #28? It's their only legit weakness.

Knowing Belichick and Pioli, they'll probably take another tight end and a punter, thereby causing Mel Kiper's head to explode. (We're guessing his hair would remain intact, however). Actually, I think they will take a linebacker at 24 - I'm just not sure which one it will be, though if I were throwing together a mock draft, I'd probably go with Jon Beason from Miami, who's said to be fast, versatile, and devoted to football, all traits that would make him a nice fit in Foxboro. I do think it's entirely possible that they'll take two linebackers in the first round, since Michigan's David Harris has reportedly been climbing up their draft board in recent days and there might be other appealing alternatives such as Penn State's Paul Posluszny. All things being equal, though, I hope they add some depth in the defensive backfield with the 28th pick, though I have no idea whom they might favor from the Griffin/Houston/Meriweather group. Oh, and about taking another tight end: I was joking earlier, but if Miami's gifted Greg Olsen is on the board, I bet the Pats will at least give him some consideration, especially if Dave Thomas's injury is more serious than we know. Given the depth of their roster, they may be in Best Player Available mode from the beginning. So I guess what I'm saying is that we have no freakin' clue what will happen, though it's worth noting that Belichick, in a delicious bit of candor, revealed on WEEI this afternoon that there are players projected to go in the first round whom the Patriots have rated as late-round picks or free agents. Seriously, how cool is that? I'd pay good money to get a peek at their draft board. You know it looks like no one's mock draft.

From reader John W.: Chad: A couple posts ago, you said you weren't ready to pass judgment on Glenn Geffner. Ready yet? I am. I hate to sound like an old fart, but he suuuuucks. It's not that he's new or young... and although he's an internal hire, he doesn't come across as too obvious a homer. But he has no sense of pacing. He's constantly talking too fast, frequently tripping over his own tongue. He tries way too hard to fit nuggets of predigested data in between pitches. At its best, baseball on radio has a relaxed, welcoming atmosphere. Sure, you can get excited when there's a key play; but otherwise, you gotta take time to breathe. He almost... emphasize almost... makes me long for the Trupiano era.

Slowly nodding in agreement . . . Actually, I'm still trying to give Geffner the benefit of the doubt, if only because I was so anti-Trupiano that it probably wouldn't be good form to rip his replacement so soon. So I'll leave it at this for now: I think Dave O'Brien is outstanding, and I wish his ESPN commitments didn't keep him from doing all of the Sox games. As for Geffner . . . well, the less said the better, I suppose, and that goes for him and his excessive dependence on the media guide as well as me. Assuming settles down, talks slower and less often, and lets Castiglione lead the way, he should at least be tolerable. Hey, at least he's not Troop.

From SlappyVonPurplelips, Scott Boras's lair: Is Tom Brady the Derek Jeter of football? Because if he is, that means I'll have to hate his guts too, even though he's never made me change positions or hung me out to dry with the fans or borrowed my rouge without returning it or anything.

Well, no, because Tom Terrific's teams have won championship(s) since he became captain, so that's a major difference right there. But I get where this question is coming from: Pretty-boy Brady just signed a $12 million deal to endorse Stetson cologne. Pretty-boy Jeter has his own brand of cologne called, I believe, One-Step Range To The Left. (Whoops, Google informs me it's called Driven. Close enough, I say.) Anyway, here's the difference. Stetson goes for a rugged, masculine image, something out of the wild west. Driven is produced by Avon, which caters to girly-girls, blue-haired grannies, and Yankee infielders. Edge, Stetson, though if they make Brady wear a stupid cowboy hat or cuddle a friggin' goat like GQ did, we'll have no choice but to call it a draw.

From reader Kevin J.: Dreaming that there is some luck of the Irish with the ping-pong balls May 22 and we're vindicated for losing out on Duncan 10 years ago, who do you take? Oden, or Durant?

Oden, without a moment's hesitation. His presence would improve the Celtics' defense so much immediately that even Gerald Green might look like a competent defender with Oden watching his back. Listen, I love Durant and he'd be hell of a consolation prize in the No. 2 slot, but the claims that he's a once-in-a-generation player are more than a little hyperbolic. He'll be a great scorer in the NBA, a perennial All-Star who combines some of the best attributes of Tracy McGrady, Carmelo Anthony, and Dirk Nowitzki. But Oden is a game-changer on defense, an undeniable presence whom you can see eventually anchoring a championship team. He is the franchise player this franchise is desperate for.

From Petey M., Flushing, N.Y.: Where you been, man?

Hibernating. To be honest, I've been overwhelmed with some real-world stuff lately, including having a tree wipe out the power lines in our neighbor's yard, leaving us without power without 3 1/2 days. Let's just say I'm a lot more sympathetic to Nicholson's character in "The Shining" after that experience. The Fox column (latest edition here, if you didn't see it) also has interfered with my blogging productivity more than I thought it would. But now that we have lights and electricity and such, I vow to be a more consistent correspondent over the next few weeks, particularly since the Boston.com affiliation/link should be starting up soon.

From reader Jeff P.: Keep running all the dolled-up pictures of Jenna Fisher [sic] you want, Finn. You'll never convince me she's anything more than plain, especially by Hollywood standards. She does do a good job on the show though ... so what do you think will happen in the final episodes? Will she hook up with Halpert or what?

First of all, People magazine disagrees with you, Steve, and yes, I'm glad to see they received all of my letters of nomination. Second, Stevie Wonder called, and he wants his retinas back. (I know, that's a comeback only Costanza could love. So sue me.) Anyway, here are a few predictions for the season's final three episodes:

• Jan reveals she's pregnant with a Michael Scott spawn: Terrifying twist, huh? A couple of the cast members have mentioned that Jan will have a major life change soon, and I can't help but remember that she kept saying she felt queasy in the episode at the boss's house. I am a little surprised they'd play the baby card so soon, though.

• Karen will be offered a corporate job in New York, and Jim will have decide whether to stay or go: The gorgeous Rashida Jones, who's done the near impossible by making Karen immensely likable as the woman standing between Pam and Jim, landed a lead role in a pilot on Fox, and reportedly will only be on The Office on occasion next year, if it all. Sending her to New York seems to be a convenient way for the writers to ease out her character while causing a compelling cliffhanger at the season's end.

• Pam will tell Jim exactly how she feels: For all of Michael's antics and Dwight's beet-and-Angela-loving weirdness and Jim's prankster geniality, good-hearted Pam is the show's fulcrum, and the underlying theme this season has been her quest to overcome her fear of rejection and summon the strength to take some chances and get what she wants out of life. The show's savvy writers have a talent for taking us in a perfectly believable direction that we didn't see coming, but it's difficult not to assume that everything that has occured this season (the reconciliation and final breakup with Roy, her overhearing Oscar's snarky comments at the art show about her not being honest with herself) is setting up a situation in which she takes the ultimate chance and puts her heart on the line for Jim. In fact, given Jenna Fischer's habit of subtly tipping off her blog readers to upcoming crucial Jim/Pam moments, we can probably pinpoint the episode when it will happen, considering she recently wrote this: "The episode not to be missed is Beach Day [May 10]. Seriously. Don't miss it."

From my own simple mind: Anything else you wanted to add, dummy?

Just this: While I wasn't a Hardy Boys savant and never imagined that Mo Lucas and Billy Ray Bates were my friends (though I did feel a certain kinship with Kevin Kunnert), my experience with David Halberstam's "The Breaks of the Game" was remarkably similar to Hollywood Sports Guy's remembrance today. "Breaks," Halberstam's compelling, meticulous account of the post-Walton Portland Trail Blazers and the addled NBA of the late '70s, was one of the first grown-up books I ever read, and I love it as much today as I did when I was 13 years old. (The Swen Nater/Sidney Wicks airport scene is worth the cover price alone.) When I heard the terribly sad news that Halberstam, a far more accomplished writer and journalist than anyone who attempted to pay tribute to him, was killed in a car accident early this week at age 73, I immediately thought of "Breaks," my affection for that book, and my admiration of the man who wrote it. I'll make the effort to read it again soon, my own silly little flashback/homage. If you haven't read it yourself, please do, particularly if you've enjoyed Halberstam's other renowned sports books like "The Summer of '49" or "October, 1964." There's no book I'd recommend more.

As for today's Completely Random Football Card:


Sparks was a pretty decent corner for the Giants and the Cowboys in the '90s, but mark these words: his 17-year-old daughter is going to be more famous and have a more lucrative and successful career than her pop ever did. While beatboxing Blake Lewis remains my boy on American Idol, I have to admit my wife was right all along: Jordin Sparks is the class of this year's underwhelming crop of contenders, and she deserves to win the thing, something Mrs. TATB was saying when Entertainment Weekly was putting Jordin's odds of winning at something like 100-1. The girl can sing the hell out of just about any song, and unlike some of AI's better vocalists through the years, she has the right look. Her old man - who, frighteningly, is only six months older than me - surely must be prouder of her than of anything he ever accomplished on the football field.

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?

Out of the darkness

Should have a Nine innings column posted tonight, now that our 3 1/2 days of electricity-free living have mercifully ended. In the meantime, here's the link to this week's FOX column. And for the kind few who have asked, the column runs every Friday and usually can be found fairly easily on the MLB page.

Until later, here's hoping a certain fellow Sox blogger can keep A-Rod from hitting one to Worcester tonight. Slappy McPurplelips sure is locked in, huh?

UPDATE, Sunday, 3:38 p.m.: Sorry 'bout yet another unfullfilled promise - some real-life stuff took precedence yesterday. I am hoping (wife-permitting) to LIVE BLOG Dice-K's start versus the Empite tonight, so be sure to check back in around 8 p.m. I think we're going to be able to pull it off, wife and kids permitting. I vow to bring at least as much insight as Joe Morgan.

- - TATB Management

P.S. - Okajima's a find, no?

Happy trails, No. 11

Catching up on some things while waiting for the impending monsoon/blizzard/hurricane/locusts/etc. . . .


A half-dozen years ago, before Mo Lewis's helmet was violently introduced to his rib cage and New England Patriots' destiny was forever altered, would you have ever thought that Drew Bledsoe's retirement would barely register a blip on the Boston sports radar screen? I suppose a certain fade to irrelevance is natural when your successor achieves all the things that you were supposed to somehow couldn't. Still, it left us a bit disappointed that Bledsoe's departure from the NFL after 14 seasons wasn't more of a story around here.

I mean, sure, we all know about Bledsoe's flaws - he had the mobility of the Route 1 dinosaur, he was reluctant to alter his let-it-fly game to fit the Belichick/Weis offense, he was a rocket-armed prodigy (he started as true freshman at Washington State) who didn't always seem to care that much about enhancing his secondary quarterbacking skills, and it was largely his own fault that he never quite became what his talent (and that legendary Minnesota game) suggested he could be. The truth is, once Tom Brady took a few games' worth of snaps, it was apparent to everyone but Bledsoe's blind loyalists that the new guy was just the jolt of energy the franchise needed.

But without No. 11, we probably never get introduced to No. 12, for had Bledsoe not arrived in New England in 1993, along with a certain gruff coach with a fondness for doing his own grocery shopping, who knows what might have become of this franchise. Maybe it would have ended up in St. Louis (though if I recall correctly, Bob Kraft was already close to purchasing the team when Parcells was hired). More likely, the Patriots would have continued to be the sport's preeminent laughingstock under the "leadership" of Rick Mirer.

In his early years, Bledsoe gave the Patriots immediate on-field credibility, a signature player who, when he was on, was the most breathtaking pure passer east of Green Bay. Through the seasons, we came to appreciate other attributes: he was as tough as old shoe leather, he played hurt (quick, name another quarterback who won a game in the last seconds with a pin sticking out of his finger), and that in the face of personal disappointment, he still remained a good teammate. If you weren't happy for him after the 2001 AFC Championship game, then you weren't a Patriots fan.

Did we wish, especially during those maddening Pete Carroll years, that he'd have dedicated himself more to improving rather than retreating to his Montana getaway mere moments after the season's final buzzer? Well, sure, and had he done so, maybe he'd be a Hall of Famer rather than a pretty good quarterback with gaudy stats who somehow lost three different starting jobs in the final six seasons of his career. But we've got a feeling that Bledsoe is okay with his football legacy, just as long as he has his family, his health, and his place in mountains. He walks away from the game knowing what we all should remember: there's no shame in being the second-best quarterback in Patriots history.

* * *

I think we've found the early frontrunner for Red Sox quote of the year, plucked straight from Mnookin's blog.

“I’d never do anything like that. There are f----ing kids in the stands."

– Brendan Donnelly, when asked if he’d made an obscene gesture at Seattle's Jose Guillen.

Mark these words: If this guy can still get it done, he's going to be huge here. Donnelly takes *%&# from no one, yet by most accounts he's as down to earth as they come. Sounds like a New England kind of guy to me.

* * *

Other Red Sox remnants: I don't care what Buster Olney says, Dice-K reminds me of a young Mike Mussina more than any other contemporary pitcher. After two starts, I'm putting him down for 17 wins and a 3.20 ERA, and yes, I'm deliberately being conservative . . . Seriously, how sick was Felix Hernandez the other night? That might have been the most dominating pitching performance I've seen since Pedro's heyday. The Sox hitters had no chance. It'll be fascinating to see what he can accomplish if he stays healthy and away from the Cool Ranch Doritos . . . I realize Josh Beckett started out pretty well last season, winning his first four starts if I recall correctly, but right now he looks vastly superior to anything we saw from him a year ago. The true test will come when he has to use his curve and changeup to get outs in a crucial situation, but it sure looks like he's evolving into a pitcher from the mule-stubborn thrower he was a season ago . . . Tito Francona needs to make a point to work Eric Hinske and Wily Mo Pena into the lineup more often, not only to keep the two former regulars from rusting on the bench, but to keep the likes of Mike Lowell, J.D. Drew, Coco Crisp, and even Manny from wearing down over the long haul. I actually wouldn't mind seeing Hinske take more than a few of Lowell's starts at third . . . There's a fun thread going over at Sons of Sam Horn, with posters recalling the most electric they ever saw Fenway. Mine would be Game 3 of the 2003 ALCS, when ol' Trot Dirty Hat hit the walkoff homer off Rich Harden. I was working, and Fenway was shaking so much as he circled the bases that it was hard to line up the keys on the laptop . . . Shhh, don't tell the 'EEI imbeciles, but Francona's shrewd eighth-inning use of Jonathan Papelbon Friday night was straight out of the Bill James/Closer By Committee playbook. You use your best reliever to get crucial outs, whether that's in the ninth inning, the eighth, or the sixth. For at least one night, it worked to perfection.

* * *

The heat seems to be increasing on Danny Ainge these days, and if he gives M.L. Rivers a contract extension without an out clause, I'll agree that he deserves to be scalded. But I've said it before, and I'll say it right up until we know the results of the draft lottery: Ainge deserves credit for taking a dull but decent team that had two quality players and absolutely no young talent or chance of winning anything substantial, and having the Spauldings to blow it up and start over. Three years later, he has an atrocious team with at least a half-dozen talented kids . . . and a potential winning lottery ticket. Given that the goal should be to get that 17th banner my any means necessary, I have no problem with that strategy, even with the inherent risk that they could end up with the likes of Joakim Noah once the ping-pong balls have settled. Hey, if he enters 2007-08 with a starting five of Oden, Jefferson, Szczerbiak, Pierce, and Rondo, with, depending on potential trades, Perkins, West, Gomes, Allen, and Green on the bench, how can you not feel pretty good about about the rebuilding job Ainge has done?

* * *



Damn, there sure are some fringe benefits to being an actor, huh? If I were Will Ferrell, I might never wash my hands again. And as if we needed yet another reason why Jenna Fischer is the Official Muse of TATB (Non-Wife Division), there's her take on filming what we now consider the greatest scene in the history of celluloid:

“The first take is like [Will] said, ‘Okay Jenna, you're married and I'm married and no funny business. Anything that makes you uncomfortable I want you to tell me. I just want you to feel comfortable.’ I said, ‘Okay, let’s just go for it and make it funny.’ He's like, ‘Yeah.’ So we just went for it and as soon as they yelled cut, his hands came off like he was touching a hot iron. He was so respectful. But then around hour 8 [of filming] it's so normal that they yelled cut and we are discussing the scene with the director and I said, ‘Yeah, dude, your hands are still on my boobs.’ And that was cool, but when we went to lunch and he was still squeezing my boobs and then that night at my car... I haven't been in a lot of films, but he said that was normal - but I'm still not sure. I'm not positive that that was right. He said that was okay and he suggested to promote the film he should play with my boobs. I think that's cool, right? That's how it's done. That's what he said. Yeah.”

Cute, funny, and down with some good old-fashioned boob humor? I don't care what you haters say - she is perfect.

* * *

I've received 20 or so emails asking me if there's any truth to the little nugget buried here - not to mention a puzzled query from one of my bosses. While it's always flattering when someone says nice things about your work, there's a part of me that's annoyed by the conjecture, and I suppose I should address it. So let me break down my professional status this way (I'll try not to sound like a Simmonsish egomaniacal dinkus here):

Lets's see . . . I just hooked up an affiliation with FoxSports and, soon, Boston.com . . . I get to blog here about the Sox and anything else I'm obsessed with (you did read the above item, right?) without having to deal with idiot pro athletes and impossible deadlines that would surely jade the perspective I've managed to maintain as a fan . . . I live in lovely coastal Maine and don't really feel like commuting to freakin' Lawrence . . . I've dreamed of working at the Globe since I was a kid and have so much fun with and respect for the people I work with that sometimes I can't believe I'm so fortunate . . . I work four nights a week now for what I'd guess is more compensation than I'd make there in seven days . . . And because of the short week, I get to spend more time with my wife and two young kids.

But other than that, yup, I'd consider it.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:


As far as we're concerned, there can never be enough homage paid to the most courageous man in baseball history.

Dice-K, Agent Zero, and other mysteries

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free Celtics phantom injuries for you . . .


1. Now, I'm certainly not suggesting he'll be as good, because I'm a believer that the 1998-2001 Pedro Martinez was a once-in-a-fan's-lifetime gift from the sports gods, that Petey did things on the mound that we'll never witness again. But - and here we try, probably in vain, to fight off the hyperbole - in terms of anticipation leading up to a start, then having anabsolutely thrilling performance justify every single syllable of hype . . . well, if that wasn't straight out of the Vintage Pedro playbook, I don't know what is. Wednesday just cannot get here soon enough.

2. If you've visited the space for any length of time, you surely realize that the Red Sox could have replaced Jerry Trupiano with Charlie Brown's teacher (Mwah-mwah-MannyRamirez-mwahmwhamwha-mwha) and I would have considered it a worthwhile tradeoff. But the fact that Dave O'Brien is Joe Castiglione's new partner is almost too good to be true - the new guy's got great pipes (as did Troop), but his feel for the pace of the game and professionalism is an immeasurable upgrade on his predecessor, who was more interested in talking Cardinals or putting together his All-Fish team (Troop: "You'd have Tim Salmon in right, Joe . . ." Joe: Groan) than actually attempting to call a decent game. What a pleasure it is to be able to turn on the Red Sox game and not be annoyed to the point that assaulting the steering wheel seems like a good idea. (I'll reserve my review of Glenn Geffner for a later date, since I haven't heard him for more than a few innings yet.)

3. You can't help but appreciate Jonathan Papelbon's willingness to move back to the bullpen, no matter whether he did it for the betterment of the team or because, as he is now claiming, closing is his personal preference. But you have to wonder how his agent feels, given that a quality starting pitcher (or even a not-so-quality rotation filler) tends to make considerably more money over the course of his career than do relief pitchers not named Mariano.

4. I suppose he could become more lackadaisical the more comfortable he becomes in Boston, but from what I've seen so far, J.D. Drew plays the game a lot harder than we've been led to believe. I like what I see - he's the most well-rounded player on this team, whether he's ultimately a Dirt Dog or not.

5. Tito Francona seems to have a lot of faith in Kyle Snyder considering he was pegged as the long relief guy, and I wouldn't be surprised if that faith proves justified. The former first-round pick has always had the stuff to succeed, just not the health.

6. Is it too soon to revoke my prediction that Coco Crisp will bounce back in Year 2 with the Sox? Man, he looks brutal, and assuming the Sea Dogs actually get any games in before June, Jacoby Ellsbury is going to be pressuring him for that center field job sooner rather than later. I realize it's only four games, but if Crisp keeps this up, he might be hitting routine grounders to second for the Pittsburgh Pirates by the All-Star break.


7. With the daffy, dazzling Gilbert Arenas down for the count with a knee injury, the NBA playoffs just got a whole lot less interesting. But at least it gives the him more time to continue to kick Curt Schilling's ample ass in their pursuit of the Dundie Award for the Best Blog By A Pro Athlete. Consider this snippet from a post after his injury:

I told them to cut the leg off a couple times. You know, cut it off and then bring it back to me when it was all healed. Because, you know, Heather Mills on Dancing with the Stars, she had that leg. I was saying I could borrow one of those and finish out the season. But they wasn’t going for that.

Hey, any NBA player who has the pop-culture awareness to joke about McCartney's peg-legged ex is cool with us.

8. Congressman Smerlas? Watching that overgrown hairball Chewbacca his way through a debate would be must-see TV, no doubt. But if he gets elected to any position higher than assistant meter maid, you'll be able to find me in the nearest bomb shelter, because that'd undoubtedly be a sign that end is near.

9. Well, I suppose this means I can't freely rip on Joe Buck anymore. But I'm damn sure going to find out if McCarver is still fair game.

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


When I was a kid, I ripped up and mutilated every Jack Tatum football card I ever got. It was my childish way of paying tribute to a fallen Patriot I was too young to have seen play, but one whose teammates - and more importantly to me, my dad - spoke of with great reverence. There have been a lot of terrific columns written and anecdotes shared about Darryl Stingley the past few days, and I think this heartfelt email, from reader Shaun Kelly, belongs with them.

As a Patriot season-ticket holder throughout the 70's, I had the genuine honor of seeing every one of Stinger's touchdowns he made as a Patriot at Schaeffer Stadium. We used to wait outside the old clubhouse after home victories, and Darryl was always most cordial and polite to all of us who greeted him. Let me tell you, friend, he was a superb wide-receiver who was like Troy Brown with a little more ability.

I used to hate John Madden because he coached the Raiders, but the way he treated Darryl after his injury in Oakland , my attitude changed completely on the man. As you know, Coach Madden visited him every day in the hospital during his prolonged stay in the local Bay Area hospital. Madden then called him continuously for the rest of that year and even retired from the Raiders after the season because the injury so affected him. When he became a broadcaster and found himself doing Bears games in Chicago , John Madden invariably visited Darryl at his home there.

Steve Grogan once told me that Coach Fairbanks immediately took the play (an over-the-middle sprint in which that -------, Jack Tatum, nailed him) out of the Patriots playbook after Stingley's injury because he didn't want to subject his offensive players to hearing the play called in the huddle. Grogan then said, "It's not just that one of our players became paralyzed, it was Darryl. We loved him like a brother."

Stinger has his legs again. Heaven just got a hell of a receiver and an even better human being.

Rest in peace, No. 84.

2007 Red Sox preview capsule

Foul tips and other observations: Sure, there are questions that only the long summer and the grind of the schedule can answer, but on this, the most optimistic day of the sports year, we'll gladly say it with unbridled confidence: We like this team. A lot . . . The plusses? Start with the starters. Curt Schilling might look like he spent the offseason hanging out at White Castle with David Wells, but he spent the spring pumping fastballs on the black with impeccable command, and he's added a changeup that at the least will be useful. Right now, it seems the only thing that can stop him from winning 15 is carpal tunnel . . . Josh Beckett has as much raw ability as any pitcher in the AL who doesn't answer to "Yo, Johan," he's admittedly more focused and comfortable heading into year two of the Red Sox Experience, and if that filthy 83 mph changeup he's been showcasing this spring is any indication, he's finally got it through his skull that you can't survive in the AL East on fastballs alone. He's going to make John Farrell look very good . . . As for the Dice-K phenomenon, well, hell, what hasn't already been said, written and debated in the last six weeks? This is going to be a blast. The suggestion that he's Mike Mussina with a better fastball seems a reasonable one, though that tailing, screwball-like changeup is uniquely his own. I imagine he'll take his lumps now and then, particularly if he stays in the habit of leaving the ball up too often, but it's apparent that he has the stuff on the mound and off (his sunny personality has been a revelation) to live up to every last word of hype . . . While starting pitching should be the Sox's main advantage over the Yankees, it is far from their only strength . . . Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz remain the most dangerous 1-2 power punch of their generation, provided Manny doesn't suddenly quit midsummer to become a Canadian Mountie or follow some other such whim . . . Papi will try to increase his home run output for the seventh straight season (he'll do it), while Manny is just 30 homers shy of 500 (he'll get 'em) . . . Perhaps Papi will even wallops his way to the MVP award he's long deserved . . . Now that I'm past the sticker shock, I can admit I'm glad that J.D. Drew is a Red Sox. He might be the most complete player on the roster, and (crossing fingers) if he can stay healthy, he'll be the No. 5 hitter they were so desperate for a season ago . . . The bullpen should fall into place now that Jonathan Papelbon earned the season's first big save by returning to the closer role. I was intrigued by the idea as Papelbon as a starter, if only because I'd rather get 180 innings from my best pitcher instead of 80, but most other teams would sacrifice their mascot to have such a dilemma . . . The best guess here is that Brendan Donnelly will emerge as the most reliable setup guy. He certainly has the proper temperament for a late-inning, high-pressure role. The dude is intense . . . I'm not writing off Mike Timlin, either, in part because I'm pretty sure he could kill me and gut me with his bare hands. The fact that the Sox showed absolutely no hesitation in re-signing him after his September meltdown tells you they believe whatever went wrong was correctable . . . J.C Romero looked rejuventated this spring, though the fact that the Sox are carrying three lefties tells you they're not sure they have one they can trust . . . Which brings us to our concerns . . . No. 1 on our list is No. 33 in your program . . . At age 35, can Jason Varitek bounce back from an injury-plagued and ineffective (.238) season? History says no, with little room for argument . . . Even if he struggles at the plate - and his bat looked slug-slow this spring - he's something of an asset because of his defense, knowledge of the pitchers, and the fact that the decomposing Doug Mirabelli is the alternative . . . We also must wonder if Mike Lowell's feeble second half is a sign of an offensive decline . . . If Dustin Pedroia can prove the doubters wrong at one more level . . . If Julio Lugo will show us why the Sox front office long coveted a player whose production doesn't really justify the admiration . . . If Coco Crisp, hitting his prime at 27, will be the dynamic player he was in his final two years in Cleveland, and not the erratic, easy out he too often was in his disappointing Boston debut . . . But hey, every team in baseball has questions (see: Carl Pavano, Opening Day starter), and the Red Sox have fewer than most. Besides, it's bad form to fret and complain today. Winter is gone, the Red Sox are back, and anything seems possible.

Breakthrough player: Beckett. The trade will look a lot better after this season than it did after the last one.

Honorable mention: Dice-K. Is it really a breakthrough if we expect it? . . . Devern Hansack: Strike-throwing machine will be a factor in the bullpen before season is through . . . Pedroia: Loretta was the media's buddy, but let's admit it: he was a singles hitter with no range. The bar isn't set that high . . . Kason Gabbard: If Jon Lester doesn't eventually seize Julian Tavarez's spot in the rotation, this Francona favorite just might.

Breakdown player: Varitek. I do hope I'm wrong about this . . . but I don't think I am.

Dishonorable mention: Lowell: There's a reason the Sox shopped him around in the offseason. It's called selling high . . . Drew: His history suggests we must be concerned, but hopefully, he'll pull a Molitor and be healthier in his 30s than he was in his 20s.

Completely random Bill James stat: Wily Mo Pena had the longest average home run in the American League last season at 411 feet.

Bonus stat: Schilling tied Chicago's Jon Garland for the league lead in doubles allowed (51).

Bonus bonus stat: Kevin Youkilis led the league in pitches per plate appearance (4.43) and was second in pitches seen at 3,009. Cleveland's Grady Sizemore saw 3,019.

And what the hell, one more: Beckett led the league in pitches at 95 MPH or faster (1.072), which tells you all you need to know.

. . . and finally, a prediction: 95 wins, 67 losses, 2d in AL East, AL wild card winner, and several nights of October intrigue.

Grilling season

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free Manny-owned appliances for you . . .

1. Well, since the Twins weren't giving up Joe Nathan and the Yankees are yet to make Mariano Rivera available, I guess this is the next-best thing, right? Returning Jonathan Papelbon to the role in which he dominated like no other Sox closer since . . . well, who, the Monster? . . . makes plenty of sense even if you do detect a whiff of panic, for it solves a big problem while creating a much smaller one in the starting rotation. (One I think Tito is convinced Kason Gabbard will eventually fill.) I have to admit, though, I'm a bit disappointed that Papelbon won't be starting. I was giddy over the thought of having a trio of 26-year-old potential aces surrounding Curt Schilling and Tim Wakefield in the rotation, and it seems to me the Sox's greatest advantage over the Yankees coming into the season was starting pitching. I had Papelbon penciled in for 16-18 wins and 200 Ks. I guess 40 saves and a lot less late-inning stress will be an acceptable consolation prize. (And yes, we are pretending that we have no concerns about his shoulder's ability to handle the burden. Let's just move on, okay?)

2. I've caught myself rubbernecking at Schilling's 38-car pileup of a blog (yeah, I know . . . pot, kettle, black) the last few days, and mark my words, he's going to write something that causes a *^&$storm in the clubhouse, and sooner rather than later. Just today, he took an unbecoming shot at Bob Tewksbury, who's about as controversial as vanilla ice cream, revealed that "John" would be closing, and answered a question about a long-ago incident with Scott Williamson that A) made no sense, and B) sure read like a guilty man's revision of history. Yeah, I suppose we should have known he'd be as self-important behind the keyboard as he is in front of a microphone.

3. Let's see, since pissing away the AFC title game, the Patriots have: retained their ballhawking young cornerback whom everyone thought would bolt for the biggest bucks as a free agent; signed the best linebacker available, one who happens to perfectly fit their defensive system; acquired three intriguing wide receivers, each of whom brings a different skill-set to the huddle; signed a blocking tight end and a versatile backup running back; and vastly improved their team without trading either of their first-round picks. So I have to ask: Is it possible to actually surpass a best-case scenario?

4. As far as I can tell, there have been four worthwhile NBA season-inside books through the years. 1) "The Breaks of the Game," David Halberstam (about the the transitional late '70s Blazers, with plenty of Halberstam's patented big-picture wisdom). 2) ":07 Seconds or Less," Jack McCallum (about last year's Suns, a fun read but comes up slightly short in the insight/juicy details department). 3) "Unfinished Business," McCallum (about the 1990-91 Celtics, it's worth it for the comedic stylings of Kevin McHale alone). 4) "The Short Season: A Diary of the 1977-78 Boston Celtics," John Powers (a winning look at a surprisingly terrible team, but one that did not lack for characters). If you've got a fifth to add to this list, well hell, let me know, because I'd love to read it.

5. For the record, I have no problem with the Official Muse Of TATB's increasing aversion to clothing . . . well, other than the fact that the pictures tend to melt me until I'm nothing more than a puddle and a pair of tube socks. But I'm guessing you knew that. In a related note, when the hell is "The Office" coming back with a new episode? It's been so long, if Roy did indeed live up to his vow to kill Jim, ol' Halpert's probably been reincarnated by now. I'm suddenly finding myself spending my Beesly-free Thursdays watching "American Idol" for the first time, and frankly, I'm not all that comfortable with that. But it is addictive, you develop your favorites, and I'm pulling for the beatbox kid, Blake. He nailed that Keane song a few weeks back. And Sanjaya . . . yikes. Step away from the curling iron, son. I think he's the hermaphrodite child Michael Jackson never had. I honestly don't understand why the voters haven't sent this tone-deaf Peter Pan back to Neverland already.


6. Yep, I'm convinced. Daisuke Matsuzaka is going to be worth every digit on his paycheck. As if his ability to throw four above-average pitches at varying speeds to the exact spot Jason Varitek places his mitt isn't enough to convince us he'll be an ace from Day 1, then Varitek's complete inability to mask his admiration (is awe too strong a word?) for Dice-K is evidence enough of his elite talent. I cannot wait.

7. I hope I'm wrong, but I'm assuming that Donny Marshall will not be with Fox Sports New England for long. The former UConn star and NBA vagabond is nothing less than outstanding as Tommy Heinsohn's stand-in and, more often, as a studio analyst on the Celtics broadcasts. Marshall is refreshingly candid in critiquing his former peers, such as when he noted recently that Desmond Mason, a capable enough scorer, actually has a reputation for clogging up his team's offense because he insists on posting up all the time despite being just 6-foot-5. It was exactly the kind of insight I want to hear from a former player. You'd have to think one of the networks at some point is going to catch on to Marshall's talent and swipe him away.

8. Seriously, f you didn't laugh at the whole "Hi, this is Manny Ramirez. Check out this kickin' grill!" episode, then you are taking your time here way too seriously, my friend. (And that goes double for that bloated bag o' gas John Dennis, who actually spent moments of his life trying to find out if Manny was violating any eBay rules, for no other reason than to stir up more faux-controversial nonsense) This whole situation was classic Manny, and I mean that in the good sense. Why not enjoy it? (And I'm still laughing at his response the other day to a question about the closing situation: "Not my department." Again: Classic Manny. I sure am going to miss the goof when he returns to his native planet.)

9. Allen Ray, Brian Scalabrine, and Rajon Rondo combined to play 64 minutes against the Bobcats without scoring a single point. Consider those numbers again: Sixty-four minutes. Zero points. Nah, Doc's not tanking a thing.

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


Because sometimes it really is random.

Analyzing Bill James's Red Sox projections, Part 2

Because Dale and Holley are no doubt desperate for a topic to crib for today's show, we're back with some Sox projections from the Bill James Handbook. Today, the pitchers . . .

STARTING ROTATION
Curt Schilling
12-8 3.50 ERA, 177 Ks in 180 innings
Looks like James expects Schilling's age (and girth) to cause him to visit the disabled list once or twice. Given that Schilling has failed to pitch 180 innings only twice since 1996 - in 2003 (broken hand) and 2005 (bloody sock aftermath), I like the odds that he'll throw 200-plus innings and surpass these numbers.

Daisuke Matsuzaka
27-2, 1.33 ERA, 305 Ks in 256 innings, two no-hitters, Cy Young, MVP, World Series MVP, Academy Award winner
Damn, looks like James believes the hype and then some. I guess Dice-K really is going to make us forget all about Pedr . . . oh, all right, I admit it: I made those numbers up. There's no projection for Dice-K, for obvious reasons, though I do think it's worth noting that in his first season stateside, at age 26, Hideo Nomo went 13-6 with 2.54 ERA, whiffing 236 in 191.3 innings while allowing just 124 hits. If Matsuzaka could pitch as well for the Sox as his countryman did for the Dodgers a dozen years ago, I think we'd all be satisfied.

Josh Beckett
13-10, 3.68, 191 Ks in 208 innings
Let's put it this way: If Beckett pitches 208 innings with a 3.68 ERA, he's winning a hell of a lot more than 13 games.

Jonathan Papelbon
14-6, 2.98 ERA, 181 Ks in 184 innings
It's tough to project stats for a closer who's becoming a starter, mostly because the move is so unusual. (John Smoltz is the only recent example who comes immediately to mind.) Still, the numbers seems to favor Papelbon making the transition successfully, and the 14 wins is a comparitively high projection given that James's scale appears conservative; he has no one in either league winning 20 games. For what it's worth, I would not be shocked if Papelbon ended up being the ace of this staff. Does anyone doubt his stuff or his makeup?

Tim Wakefield
8-8 4.14 ERA, 108 Ks in 152 innings.
Wakefield, who turns 41 on August 2, is regarded as a "high injury risk," thus the 152-inning projection. But I have to wonder if that takes into account that he's a knuckleballer, an often ageless specie. Consider: at 40, Phil Niekro threw 342 innings (and went 21-20); Charlie Hough pitched 252 innings; and Tom Candiotti threw 201 innings. If he can avoid another fluke rib injury, I have doubt that Wakefield will devour 200 innings again.

BULLPEN
Joel Pineiro
7-9, 4.50 ERA in 92 Ks in 144 innings.
This one should be disregarded - the numbers are based on Pineiro starting for Seattle, not relieving for Boston. He has looked like he's throwing the ball with some bite lately, so maybe this low-risk move will have some reward, if not necessarily a high one.

Brendan Donnelly
3.41 ERA, 64 Ks in 66 innings
Mark it down: The cantankerous ex-Angel is your opening day closer . . . though you, me, and Tito are hoping the Sox won't need one at all in Kansas City.

Mike Timlin
3.86 ERA, 46 Ks in 70 innings
The nagging strained oblique muscle isn't exactly an encouraging sign that last year's woes are behind him.

Julian Tavarez
4.56 ERA, 43 Ks in 75 innings
I actually get a kick out of Manny's completely insane personal spokesman, though I'd like him more if he didn't accumulate most of his highlights during garbage time.

J.C. Romero
4.40 ERA, 36 Ks, 24 BBs in 44 innings
Twenty-four walks in 44 innings? Yep, this talented hothead is the leader in the clubhouse for the title of Reliever Who Is Going to Have Me Cursing At The TV While Simultaneously Sucker-Punching The Cat. Should be a good time.

Manny Delcarmen
3.88 ERA, 77 Ks in 78 innings
The K-rate is certainly encouraging, and if the pride of Hyde Park can just harness his high-grade stuff a little more often, he could really become an integral part of the bullpen in the late innings. Yes, I'm glad he (and Craig Hansen) were dealbreakers in the rumored Todd Helton swap. (FYI: There is no projection for Hansen.)

Kyle Snyder
4.84 ERA, 51 Ks in 80 innings, 97 hits allowed
The Sox could do worse for a spot starter/mopup man, though I really don't want to see Bronson Arroyo With A Pituitary Problem pitch 80 innings unless half of them are at Pawtucket.