Playing nine innings while wondering how giddy Suzyn Waldman will be if David Wells shows up in Georgie Porgie's private box . . .
1. Watching this Angels series has reminded me how much I enjoyed watching Orlando Cabrera play shortstop for the Red Sox. I realize there are a lot of rumors about why the Sox didn't bring him back, and I have to admit that I thought Edgar Renteria would be an upgrade, at least offensively. But it's downright insulting to think that Sox management dared to descibe Julio Lugo in the same terms that we'd use for Cabrera - dynamic, aggressive, popular in the clubhouse - when there is clearly no similarity between the two players beyond the defensive position they play.
2. Kevin Youkilis was a lot more likable before he decided he should be able to call his own balls and strikes.
3. I realize my hindsight here is sharper than a great hitter's vision, but given that Manny Delcarmen seems to be regressing to his previous inconsistent form while Jermaine Dye is leading the majors in home runs since the All-Star break (11), is it possible that Theo Epstein should have taken White Sox GM Kenny Williams up on what looked like a lopsided trade request at the time? The object, after all, is to win the World Series, and given the ominousness of Papi's shoulder problems, I'm thinking a trade of Delcarmen, Wily Mo Pena, and Craig Hansen for Dye would greatly enhance this team's chances in October without mortgaging too much of the future.
4. He's worthy of endless admiration for what he's overcome, and Fenway will rock with emotion he makes his first home start of the season next week . . . but man, am I wrong to say it's just excruciating to watch Jon Lester pitch? Every time I look up at the TV, it seems like there are two runners on base and he's got a 3-1 count on some bottom-of-the-order schlub. I understand he's probably not at full strength yet, but right now he's the same maddening nibbler who seemed to turn every start into a 4-hour marathon as a rookie. I wonder if the Sox think Clay Buchholz is close to ready.
5. Brief NBA interlude: Reggie Miller, shooting guard, Boston Celtics? Sure, why not? He's one of those blessed shooters who will be able to knock down an open 20-footer on his death bed, he's still in shape and had decent game when he retired two years ago (14.8 ppg), and it will drive Boston-hating Spike Lee over the edge. Given that he'd only be asked to play a dozen minutes or so a game, it seems like a brilliant outside-the-box idea on Danny Ainge's part. I hope it happens.
6. This nightly hissing contest between the Blue Jays and the Yankees has the potential to be the best intra-AL East feud since the Devil Rays were using Brian Daubach for target practice and Ice Williams tried to forcibly remove Pedro's jheri curl a half-decade ago.
7. The Red Sox would be much better served - and their offense would probably be much more productive at the moment - if Tito Francona fined Papi every time he even attempts to slide. You just knew he was going to get hurt on the basepaths at some point.
8. I'm convinced Brandon Moss is going to put up Trot Nixon-like numbers as an everyday big-league player. (And by that I mean Healthy Trot, not Stuffed Full of Crullers and Limping Trot we came to know the past few seasons.) But that day looks very far away right now, doesn't it? I have seen someone in a Sox uniform wear such an obvious deer-in-the-headlights look since Grady Little was patting Pedro on the back and securing his place in infamy one October night at Yankee Stadium.
9. As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:
"When the Iranians were holding our embassy people captive, instead of the Marines we should have sent Burleson and [Rico] Petrocelli over there. They would have come back in 48 hours with the hostages, the Ayatollah, and a couple million barrels of oil." - Bill Lee
Baby, have you ever wondered/Wondered what ever became of me
After too many days away, you know I've got some things to say . . .
RED SOX: You know, I hate even thinking this, let alone writing it, but I'm beginning to wonder where Papi's mojo has gone. I know, today was an extreme example of his recent struggles, whiffing feebly with runners on base not once but twice late in the game, but man, it's just so damn disconcerting to see him falter in those clutch situations after absolutely owning the late innings since 2003. I may be forgetting an early-season walkoff single or some other meaningful late-inning delivery here, but the reality is he's been more mortal that superhero so far in '07. I know that is borderline blasphemous to say, but he hasn't homered at Fenway since April 21, and watching him fail to catch up to some very hittable fastballs recently, I'm beginning to wonder if something's wrong. Now, I realize it's unfair to expect someone to come through every single time, but I just miss that feeling that when he comes to the plate with the game on the line, you just know it's going to end with a moonshot, then a raised fist as he trots around first, a tossed batting helmet as he heads down the homestretch, and finally, a raucous celebration at home plate. And I know I'm not the only one who wonders where those moments have gone - even Joe Castig's voice lacked that familiar sense of optimism or anticipation when Papi was the winning run at the plate with two outs in the ninth, and he hardly sounded surprised when his final call was a dejected "Swing and a popup," rather than his old joyous standby, "David Ortiz has done it again!" I mean, he is going to do it again soon, right? . . . Julio Lugo's pea-brained attempt to swipe third base with the Sox down a run and Kevin Youkilis at the plate Saturday was the single stupidest baserunning move by a Sox player since Psycho Lyons's idiotic heyday. I suppose you can't fault him, though. He's been on base so infrequently this season that I'm surprised he actually ran in the right direction . . . The Red Sox have scored 26 runs in their last nine games, Papi and Manny just completed a month in which they combined for 23 RBIs and looked less like the reincarnation of Gehrig and Ruth and more like the modern-day Maas and Meulens, and if the Yankees weren't actually living up to a certain chant, we might be in full panic mode about this June semi-swoon. While you have to chalk it up to a bad month (the Sox went 13-14), a malaise that afflicts even the best teams over the long season, there has to be some level of concern here, even considering their relatively comfortable lead in the American League East. And the more I consider the strengths and weaknesses of this team heading into the All-Star break, the more convinced I become that they need to add another big bat to the lineup. So I ask: Would you go after Mark Teixeira? And what would you give up? Provided he returns to his .959-OPS form after returning from his quad injury, I say they should at least try to swing a deal with Texas, and while I'd hope Theo would hang up the phone Rangers GM Jon Daniels mentions Clay Buchholz's name, I'd give serious consideration to giving up Michael Bowden, and I might even listen to an offer for Jon Lester, gambling that once Teixeira got to Boston, he'd love the atmosphere enough that he'd want to stay after his contract expires following next season . . . So, assuming Lugo continues his quest to have the worst offensive season of any player in at least 10 years, what are the alternatives at shortstop? Omar Vizquel? He's 40 years old, has a wretched .594 OPS, and is known to be something of a clubhouse lawyer. I'll pass. Jed Lowrie? He's having a fine season in Portland after a slow start, but let's see him reach Triple A first before we anoint him the savior. Ed Rogers? Bobby Scales? Spike Owen? Yep, something tells me it's going to be Lugo with an increased dose of Alex Cora, and if the $36 Million Flop doesn't start looking like a major leaguer soon, Theo will be addressing the shortstop position for the fourth consecutive offseason . . . Call me a conspiracy theorist, but considering Curt Schilling apparent annoyance with the way the front office is handling his injury, I'm wondering if there's more going on here. To put it another way, I'm not so sure that there isn't more concern about his conditioning in general than the condition of his shoulder . . . Given what the Baseball America junkies have told us about his roadrunner (beep-beep!) speed, it seemed appropriate that Jacoby Ellsbury's first big league hit was a basically a routine grounder that he legged out after a moment's hesitation by the shortstop. The kid looks like a jittery rookie right now (admit it, the Sox have missed Coco Crisp in center the past two days), but it's always fun to catch a first glimpse of a player whom you're pretty sure will be a big part of the future.
CELTICS: Now, about that other Boston team in the news lately, and no, I don't mean the Bruins and their acquisition of journeyman goalie Manny Fernandez. I'm talking about the Runnin' Grousbecks, of course, and how fascinating it has been to gauge the national reaction to Danny Ainge's acquisition of Ray Allen for first-rounder Jeff Green, Delonte West, and Wally Szczerbiak's leftover limbs. If I recall correctly, Sports Illustrated's Ian Thomsen and Jack McCallum loved the deal for Boston (and there's no one I respect more than McCallum), ESPN stat dude John Hollinger hated it, and Bill Simmons seemed to talk himself into it as his Draft Diary progressed. My take? Well, my initial reaction was that it was a panic move, that Ainge was desperate to do something to A) appease Paul Pierce and B) save his own hindquarters, and so he brought in a 32-year-old guard with two gimpy ankles and the inability to guard Denzel Washington, let alone actual NBA players. But then I remembered just how much I liked watching Allen shoot the ball - seriously, there hasn't been anyone with a smoother J since Dale Ellis - and the thought of him, Pierce and Al Jefferson (or, I almost hope, Kevin Garnett) playing together sounded like, well, fun. And we all know that fun hasn't exactly been in abundance at the New Garden in recent years. I'm still not sure it was a particularly shrewd move for the franchise's long-term health, but at least the Celtics are going to be interesting next season, and for now, I guess I consider that progress.
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As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:
While playing 148 games at shortstop for the 1988 Philadelphia Phillies, Mr. Jeltz here batted a robust .187 in 379 at-bats, while slugging a mighty .237. So, yes, there have been modern shortstop who have been as atrocious for a full season as Lugo has been for half of one. I just hope Jeltz isn't signed to a six-year, $60 million deal by Theo next winter.
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Quickie links to stuff we wrote: The FOXSports column is here (and be sure to tune in this coming Friday - I think I might go after a certain Calm-Eyed Captain in the Bronx), and here's a shorter piece I wrote for Sunday's edition of Red Sox GameDay. As always, we appreciate the clicks, and while my work schedule is nuts the next few weeks (at least by my couch potato standards), I have a couple of posts planned that I'm looking forward to writing, including a midseason report card. So be sure to check in, and as always, thanks for your patience. Really, you're a saint.
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.
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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.
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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.
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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.
Ten free minutes for me, 10 free lunatic rantings for you . . .
1. I'm trying not to be overconfident here, but dammit, after their vintage performance during Viking Evisceration, I just can't help but believe this to be truth: The Patriots are going to destroy Colts. Laurence Maroney and Corey Dillon, who basically had a bye last week, are going to run wild against that porous Indy run defense. Tom Brady will again prove he is his generation's Montana to Peyton Manning's Marino, deep-frying the poor backup Colts safeties filling in for Bob Sanders and Mike Doss. And a defense that was picked apart by Manning Patriots-Colts a season ago now has the personnel to befuddle him the way they did in their six previous victories; remember, last season, Rodney Harrison and Richard Seymour were injured, Tedy Bruschi was in Week 2 of his comeback, Mike Vrabel was playing out of position, Chad Scott (who has been excellent) was on IR, unsung Artrell Hawkins was unemployed, Randall Gay was starting at safety, and someone named Mike Stone was the nickelback. Hell, Archie Manning could have shredded that defense. This defense? Let me put it this way: You can win a Super Bowl with this defense. And around midnight Sunday evening, it's going to be clear even to the Michael Irvins of the world that the Patriots are positioning themselves to do just that. Man, this feels like a playoff game. I can't wait.
2. Funny how so many in the electronic media seem to have forgotten this week that Adam Vinatieri's departure from the Patriots was just as much, if not more, his choice than it was Scott Pioli's or Bill Belichick's. It's almost as if the vocal, anti-Belichick posse is openly rooting for him to boot a winning kick on Sunday, thus teaching that cheapskate franchise a lesson it has longed deserved. Cripes, it's such nonsense. Listen, no one is going to coerce me into saying a bad word about Vinatieri or his unmatched legacy here: he was the only kicker I've completely believed in with a game on the line, he's booted at least two and as many as four of the most clutch kicks in league history, and he absolutely deserves a place in the Hall of Fame when all is said and done. I just wish some of the people getting paid to comment on this team would tell the entire truth: Vinatieri was the highest-paid kicker in the NFL on a couple of occasions during his time with the Patriots, he was offended that he wasn't paid more, suspected his previous agent colluded with the Patriots, and ultimately chose to leave. I'm not saying that's wrong. I'm just saying that's how it is. The Patriots, despite their concerns over his troublesome back, his decreasing range, and his limp kickoffs, did want to retain him at a reasonable price. It's unjust that they are being portrayed as kicking him to the curb, because any check of the basic facts will tell you that is not how it went down.
3. Am I the only one who got the sense that Glenn Ordway would not have been high on Red Auerbach's list of people to emcee a celebration of his life? Judging by the more-than-a-smattering of boos that greeted the Big Orb at the Garden the other night, apparently not, though he and Red did have one thing in common: both were remarkably adept at blowing smoke.
4. Just saw the news crawl across the NESN ticker: Francisco Liriano, the Twins' phenom lefty, needs Tommy John surgery and will likely miss the entire 2007 season. It's hardly unexpected, given the recurring pain he felt in his elbow when he tried to return late in the season, but it's sad news nonetheless. Liriano was the most overpowering, downright exciting pitcher I saw last season - watching him burst onto the scene reminded me of Dwight Gooden's arrival/ascendancy in '84/'85 - and it's a shame for baseball fans everywhere that a pitcher of such great ability and promise is now just one more scarred question mark.
5. So Captain Fist-Pump fulfills our previous warning and prances off with the Gold Glove that belongs on Gonzo's mantel. And it sure seems a forgone conclusion that he's going to beat out Papi, Justin Morneau, and half-dozen equally deserving candidates to win the AL MVP award. So I gotta ask: How the bleep are the fawning nitwit voters going to figure out a way to get him the Cy Young Award too?
6. Two games down, 80 to go, and I've seen nothing to alter my suspicion that the Celtics are an intriguing collection of individuals who fit poorly as a team. I like just about every single player on this roster to some extent (though Tony Allen, still clueless and no longer the sky-scraping athlete after his knee injury, is fast falling out of favor), but the mix just isn't right. I trust Danny Ainge is well aware of this, and I'm willing to believe he has stockpiled young talent in order to swap some of it for the right top-tier veteran if the opportunity arises. Personally, I think Kevin Garnett would look terrific in green.
7. Did you hear the big news? The Sox let Bill Haselman "pursue other opportunities" today. Yep, looks like we're looking for a new first base coach next season. I wonder if Baseball Prospectus might have a list of the best candidates, maybe broken down into the key statistical categories: Fewest Runners Thrown Out At Second, Most Attaboys Offered Per Baserunner, Most Accurate At Giving A Fist-Pound, etc, etc. Goddamn, I need this hot stove to heat up already. Other than all the intriguing Daniel Bard rumors - could he be the next Justin Verlander? - there is just nada going on right now.
8. I don't know who is winning the NBA title this season, but I can tell you who isn't: The Miami Heat. For all of Dwyane Wade's greatness - the only player I'd rather have than him is LeBron - he's going to be going at it alone a lot more than the experts realize, and if he continues to take more hits than David Carr and misses any length of time, this team will crumble. I can see Shaq's age, weight and regular-season indifference leading to a shockingly precipitous decline, 'Zo, 'Toine and Gary Payton are a year older and, you'd have to believe, considerably more complacent, and the bench is thinner than Tony Parker's girlfriend. It all went right for Miami last year. Despite Wade's best efforts, it won't happen again.
9. The latest episode of "The Office" was far and away the best in what thus far has been a funny but uneven season. Two questions that linger: What was Fancy New Beesley talking about when she said she "was expecting something to happen tonight"? And what, exactly, was the content of that text message that Jim was too blitzed to pick up? Thursday, and the pivotal episode titled "Branch Closing," can't come soon enough.
10. As for today's Completely Random Tony Dungy Photo:
Looking at him now, would you have ever believed he'd played professional football? And that he had to tackle people?
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Quick programming note: The plan is to live-blog the Pats-Colts game Sunday night, so be sure to stop by TATB and make yourself at home during the game. There's plenty of beer in the fridge. Help yourself, peeps.
