Of chicken parms and fillet o' fish

Check it out. It's Dougie, a couple thousand chicken parms* ago.

Anyway, just a quick post to let you know that the latest FOX Nine Innings column is posted here, which of course includes the obligatory Red Sox item. (Hint: Think miniscule second baseman with a big swing. No, dummy, not Remy). Also, I got clearance from the TATB Head of Household to liveblog Big Head Barry's Fenway debut Friday night, so be sure to check back around 7ish for lots of unnecessary play by play, steroid chatter, and one-liners so lame that even Lenny Clarke wouldn't use them on the Big Show. Do I know how to sell this thing or what? Seriously, hope to see you then . . . and what the heck, here are few more quickie thoughts before I crash for the night:

• I have to admit I wasn't particularly sold on the Rockies coming into this series, but after watching them take two of three from the Sox, I'm thinking they could be a legit contender in the NL West. Even though he could walk through your neighborhood unrecognized, Matt Holliday is one of the most complete hitters in the game today, Brad Hawpe, Garrett Atkins (a notorious second-half hitter), and Todd Helton form an excellent heart of the order, Kaz Matsui looks like the player the Mets thought they were getting so many years ago, and Jeff Francis and Aaron Cook have better stuff and especially poise than I ever expected from a pitcher who makes his living in Colorado. Maybe they caught the Sox at a bad time, but that sure looks like a good ballclub to me.

• Here's hoping things change, and the sooner the better, but at the moment, December 5, 2006 is beginning to look like a dark day in Red Sox history.

• There's nothing that infuriates me more as a fan than an Orsillo/Remy giggle fit while the Sox are getting pasted. It's at those moments that I miss Sean McDonough the most. While he didn't shy away from silliness in the late innings of blowouts, he'd at least draw a few astute observations out of Remy about what's going on with the team before delving into the nonsense. Orsillo is all too willing to talk about "Sox Appeal," Wally the Green Monster's home life or any other inanity that happens to be programmed into his head at the moment, and it's maddening.

• It would be cool if the *%&*#*#* Yankees lost once in a while, and to borrow a line from the great philosopher Forrest Gump, that's all I got to say about that.

• Funny, but this morning I didn't hear anyone talking about it's imperative to sign Curt Schilling to an extension. Ain't it odd how that happens?

• I'm not ready to blame Dave Magadan for the Sox's offensive slide just yet, but could it hurt to call the Dodgers and see if they might consider taking him in a straight-up swap for their novice hitting coach? The way this Sox team is swinging it at the moment, I find myself longing for the not-so-long-ago days when Billy Ballgame was battling for a batting title from the ninth spot in a loaded lineup.

• If you caught a certain commericial during the NBA Finals last night, I have absolutely no doubt that you are walking around this morning saying "Fillet O' Fish" in a British accent. Whoever came up with this marketing concept is either A) brilliant or B) someone who consumed a wide variety of illicit drugs, probably in large quantities. (Actually, it appears the ad is brainchild of Aaron Ruell, the actor who played Napoleon Dynamite's brother, Kip. Now it's starting to make sense, though I have to say I'm surprised McDonald's is even hip enough to approve of such quirky marketing techniques.)

• As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:


Back in the day (the day in this case being sometime in 1978), the Rockies' manager was one of the game's great phenoms, considered by some (notably Sports Illustrated) to be the second coming of George Brett. Unfortunately for his aspirations, he was the first coming of Clint Hurdle, and hit .259 in parts of 10 big-league seasons before realizing he might be more suited to managing the game than playing it.

* If you don't get the chicken parm reference, well, let's just say we're a family site and all, and we're not about to link to it here. But see, there's this little thing called Google . . .

Fever pitch

It was the great unanswered question of this Red Sox offseason: Will Daisuke Matsuzaka call Fenway Park home in 2007? And now that it has been answered with a resounding "yes," an affirmation that can be heard all the way to the heart of the Pacific Rim, and now that we've tracked the flight plan of John Henry's plane on Sons of Sam Horn, cheered the would-be ace's arrival on the tarmac, watched every last minute of the "Matsuzaka Marathon" and the surreal press conference on NESN, and wondered just what he makes of all of this, here are a few more questions and answers regarding the new No. 18 in your program:

Did Theo Epstein and the Sox front office handle this as flawlessly as it appears? Let's put it this way: This entire situation has restored my wavering faith in this front office. Make no mistake, Theo Epstein, Larry Lucchino and the rest played the game brilliantly, from beginning to end. They targeted Matsuzaka as the pitcher they simply had to have this offseason, blew the dumbstruck Yankees and everyone else out of the water with the eye-popping posting bid, realized they had all the leverage and held their ground despite Scott Boras's transparent but effective make-'em-sweat negotiating machinations, and ultimately signed a 26-year old pitcher whom everyone in baseball likes (more on that in a second) to a six-year deal for an annual average salary that is more than $2 million less than that of career mediocrity Gil Meche. Yeah, I'd say they handled it flawlessly. I haven't felt this good about this management team since October, 2004.

Will he live up to the Japanese Pedro billing, will he be the second coming of the Fat *$&#@ Toad, or will he be something in between? Let's get something straight right away: he will not be another Pedro. Petey's stretch of dominance from '98-'00 was a once-in-a-fan's-lifetime gift from the sports gods, and it's not fair to ask anyone to live up to that standard. Now, with that disclaimer out of the way . . . I'm convinced he's going to be very good, as in Cy Young-candidate-good, and I believe that for this reason: Even when those in the know around baseball were taken aback by the Sox's enormous posting bid, no one - and I mean no one - questioned whether Matsuzaka was a worthwhile investment. I am yet to hear or read comments from a scout or an insider with first-person familiarity with Matsuzaka who does not believe he's going to be an outstanding major league pitcher immediately. From what I've seen (thanks, YouTube) and heard, he looks like a young Mike Mussina, but with a better fastball, and while that's not Pedro territory, you're damned right it's high praise. Man, I cannot wait to watch this kid throw the baseball.

Was there a specific point during the negotiations when you became certain a deal would happen? When ESPN's Steve Phillips said it wouldn't. Seriously. How did that boob-with-a-pulpit ever get a GM gig? He must have nudie pictures of the owner groping Mr. Met or something. Actually, as I wrote a few days, I thought this was going to happen all along, despite the tension and posturing by both sides during the negotiations. A deal simply made sense for everyone involved: The Sox clearly were sincere in their desire of the player and were willing to pay a reasonable price, Matsuzaka has hungered to pitch in the majors for a few years now and had no intention of returning to Japan for another season, the financially strapped Seibu ballclub had already announced how it was allocating the posting fee and may or may not have been in cahoots with the Sox regarding a threat to send Matsuzaka to the minors if he returned, and Boras needed to make a deal or risk losing credibility with a Japanese public that does not look upon greed as favorably as does a lizard-skinned baseball agent. Despite all the countdown-clock drama, the signing was inevitable.

What's the Japanese word for "guts"? To put it another way, can he handle the pressure of Boston? Ah, the question every self-important TV talking head is oh-so-seriously contemplating these days. We're only going to say this once, so listen up, all you vacant hairdos and Jim Rome wannabes: Matsuzaka became a national icon in Japan when he was in high school; he's carried the weight of a nation on his right shoulder for eight years, and despite the pressure, he somehow managed to emerge as the premier pitcher in the land. Something tells me he's going to be just fine handling the weight of Red Sox Nation. As for the melodramatic overkill of the last few days? He's used to it; I worry more for his teammates, who are in for a claustrophobic surprise when they realize how many Japanese media will be cramming into their clubhouse every day. But given what he's put up with already, a few bleacher blowhards and yowling ninnies like Gary Tanguay aren't going to affect him, though it probably helps that he doesn't speak much English. (I did love Shaughnessy's suggestion that Matsuzaka throw out his AM radio. Heaven knows I should do the same.)

Why is Doug Mirabelli gently weeping into his chicken parm? Because yesterday was supposed to be his day, dammit. And he didn't even get a police escort this time! You can bet Dr. Charles Steinberg will be hearing about this. You do not treat the world's most famous .193-hitting, 36-year-old backup catcher this way without having hell to pay!

Did Glenn Ordway, in the rare moments when he wasn't instigating a catfight between vapid Steve Burton and disingenuous Dale Arnold today, actually stumble upon a great idea? Shockingly, yes, when he suggested NESN should air a handful of Matsuzaka's Japanese League games so fans could have a chance to become familiar with him. It's a shrewd idea to feed our baseball jones while filling out those blase winter programming blocks, and I'd be surprised if Tom Werner hadn't already begun looking into it. Come to think of it, Ordway probably lifted the idea from him.

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:


Speaking of Ordway, judging by his pronunciation, I'm pretty sure he thinks this guy is Matsuzaka's agent. It's Bor-ASS, Glennie. You'd think he'd be familiar with the second syllable.

As God as my witness, I thought turkeys could fly

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free incarcerated Bengals for you . . .


1. Allen Iverson, guard, Boston Celtics? I reluctantly approve such a notion, if only for entertainment's sake; the Answer's reckless/relentless style of play would be a treat to watch up close, though I fear all the lumps his scrawny body has absorbed through the years will lead to an accelerated decline. There is one caveat to my approval, however: If Gerald Green's name comes up in any discussion with the Sixers, I plead with Danny Ainge to hang up the phone and wait for Billy King to humbly call back with a more reasonable request. They can have Delonte West, Sebastian Telfair, and even Big Al if his exclusion is a deal-breaker. Just don't give up Green. He has rare physical talent, a picturesque jump shot, and you can see he's figuring it out with each minute of playing time Doc Rivers awards him. I'd rather watch him grow into an elite talent than watch a current elite talent like Iverson begin to age.

2. Is Doug Mirabelli the only person on the planet with the mad skills to catch a knuckleball? I'm beginning to think so, since the Sox are apparently kicking around the thought of bringing him back one more time to caddy for Tim Wakefield. This is, of course, a ridiculously pea-brained idea. Mirabelli was washed up two years ago, and he's a well-known pain in the Assenmacher on top of it all. I say it's about time Jason Varitek sucked it up and caught Wakefield, and if that's not an option, then bring in Sandy Alomar Jr., whom I believe caught Tom Candiotti in Cleveland way back in the deadball era. Sure, Alomar may be calcified at this point - I think he's actually older than Sandy Alomar Sr. - but really, can he be any worse than Mirabelli?

3. So now the versatile Don Davis is done for the year, the 11th Patriot to be placed in injured reserve this season, and Belichick's troops are suddenly so thin at linebacker that one more injury (knock on wood) would be nothing short of devastating to their defense. Hell, the situation is pretty dire already. How dire? Paging Roman Phifer . . . Roman Phifer, please report to the front desk . . . Hey, even though ol' No. 95 is now two years into retirement, I can think of worse options. (See: Beisel, Monty).

4. In a related note, I'd gladly welcome Junior Seau back for a second tour with the Patriots in '07, though it should be as a backup since it would be prudent to start getting younger at the position. (I still contend that Kamerion Wimbley, the Browns' stellar rookie linebacker, was their No. 1 target in the last draft, though that Maroney kid wasn't a bad consolation prize.) Even Seau's most ardent detractors had to be won over by his inspired and reliable play before his gruesome injury, and he seemed to really relish the Patriot atmosphere.

5. Apparently, hypocrisy is an intangible. From the fellas at Fire Joe Morgan:

Does anyone still wonder why we are tough on Derek Jeter for not standing up for ARod this past year?

Here's a recent article where Derek Jeter talks about ARod:

Recently, the Yankees Captain has been hit with some misguided criticism that he should come out stronger in his defense of Alex Rodriguez . . .

"That's exactly what I said," Jeter calmly explained. "I said the only thing I wasn't going to do was tell the fans who they should boo and who they shouldn't boo."

And here's an article from 2005 where Derek Jeter talks about Jason Giambi:

Then Jeter took the opportunity to stand up for Giambi, who was booed so loudly after he struck out in the eighth inning it was hard to hear public address announced Bob Sheppard announce the next hitter. Jeter implored Yankees fans to stop booing Giambi.

"The fans have to start cheering for him," Jeter said. "If you're a Yankee fan, you want us to win and we need Jason."

One more time: 2006, re: ARod:

"I said the only thing I wasn't going to do was tell the fans who they should boo and who they shouldn't boo."

And 2005, in re: Giambi:

Jeter implored Yankees fans to stop booing Giambi. "The fans have to start cheering for him," Jeter said. "If you're a Yankee fan, you want us to win and we need Jason."

The end.

Seriously, that is just awesome. Fist pump!

6. If I'm Theo Epstein, I keep dialing up Jim Bowden and badgering him about a Wily Mo Pena-for-Chad Cordero swap until the Nats' GM either changes his number or gives in. While a straight-up swap probably isn't reasonable - the Sox would have to kick in at least a pitching prospect or two - it's not completely illogical from the Nats' standpoint. Bowden reportedly has a fondness for Pena dating back to their time in Cincinnati together, Washington desperately needs some sock in the middle of their Soriano-less order, and while Cordero is already a proven closer at age 25, he's something of a luxury to a Nationals team that is so flawed that it probably won't have a whole lot of leads for him to protect.

7. Forget the insane money given to such mediocrities as Gil Meche, Juan Pierre, and Gary Matthews Jr. The leader in the clubhouse for Bleepin' Stupidest Signing Of The Offseason is the Chicago Cubs for the three-year, $20 million deal they gave Jason Marquis today. Yes, that Jason Marquis - the one who was quite possibly the worst pitcher in the NL this season (6.20 ERA, led the league in homers allowed) and has a reputation of disregarding the advice of everyone but the voices in his own thick head. Tony La Russa and Dave Duncan must be having a good laugh about this one.

8. I finally found the analogy I was looking for: Pam Beesley is this generation's Bailey Quarters, and if you know what I'm talking about, I know you're nodding your head in agreement. And with our obligatory "The Office" mention out of the way, here are some words from a certain stellar TV show of its time that might just stick in your head for the rest of the day: Baby, if you've ever wondered/Wondered what ever became of me . . . Go ahead, sing it. Resistance is futile.

9. Curt Schilling says he's learning some Japanese so he can communicate with Daisuke Matsuzaka. I suppose it's an honorable gesture, though I'm suddenly curious if there's a Japanese word for "windbag."

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


Who knew the current Boomer Wells wasn't the original? You know, I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume the two aren't related.

Collaborate and listen

This was originally intended to be a "First and 10" column, but I figure that probably wouldn't be so timely now, four days and countless rehashes after the Pats' 24-17 win over the Jets. Heck, you might say it'd be more like "Last and 10"! (Ha! Ha-ha! . . . knee slap . . . c'mon, it's late.) So instead I've cranked out a monster notebook - kind of a meld between a "First and 10" and a "Nine innings," with a few other ridiculous notions and harebrained ideas thrown in for good measure. Dig in, and as always, thanks for reading and sharing your take:

• Bill Belichick has his team right where he wants them: At 2-0, in first place, and with countless rolls of film documenting their flaws and follies from their ugly victories Weeks 1 and 2. That said, I have no idea what to expect in this Denver game, other than that it's a good policy to stay away from Champ Bailey. The Broncos are historically tough on the Patriots - Tom Brady is 1-4 against them in his career - and Denver has not allowed a touchdown this season. On the other hand, Jake Plummer has suddenly remembered he's Jake Plummer, and he's about one more ill-advised throw away from permanently ceding his job to Jay Cutler. I suppose I'll give the nod to the Pats because they are at home and last season's playoff loss is a motive for revenge, but I don't feel particularly good about it.

• Three thoughts on Tom Verducci's must-read regarding Alex Rodriguez's bizarro struggles, which aren't limited to the ballfield; to a man, his teammates seem to have no use for him, to the point of open contempt: 1) Excuse the pop psychology, but after reading this, you simply can't come to any other conclusion but this: there is no Alex Rodriguez, fallible human, regular guy. His entire persona is tied up in the deceptive image of A-Rod, the perfect ballplayer and Mega Man, and so when he fails or struggles, he simply is not secure enough in himself to come to grips with it. (Hell, he even refuses to use the word "slump.") Yeah, the guy's a mess. 2) Jason Giambi, who seems about as genuine as a chronic cheater can be, comes across as a team-first leader. 3) Derek Jeter, the captain in title if not clubhouse conduct, does not, at least where A-Rod is concerned. Does pettiness count as an intangible?


• The Sox's decision to recall Devern Hansack from Double A Portland is one of those nice stories that remind me why I like sports. Hansack, an affable 28-year-old from Nicaragua, is a journeyman's journeyman: he was released after a couple of uninspiring years in Class A with Houston, did the vagabond ballplayer thing for a while in baseball hotbeds such as Holland (do they wear wooden cleats?), then returned to Nicaragua to play a little ball and get on with the rest of his life. Well, a Sox scout spotted him in a winter league, recommended that Boston sign him, and long story short, he blossomed into the ace of the Sea Dogs' championship team late this summer, winning the clinching Game 5 against Akron and looking like a pitcher with legitimate big-league aspirations. As the Portland Press Herald's Glenn Jordan (who is dearly missed on the Sea Dogs' beat, IMO) details here, it was kind of neat how the Sox informed him his improbable dream was coming true. (Update: My buddy Mistler has another fine first-person take here.)

• Peter King's column used to be staple on my Monday mornings, but ever since his wide-ranging NFL insight began regressing into a grating collection of anecdotes about his massive Starbucks intake, Montclair Freakin', N.J. softball, travel whines, Brett Favre man-love and atrocious fantasy football advice (Chris Simms? C'mon, we know you've known his old man for 20+ years, Peter, but cripes, the kid is on the verge of losing his job to Major Applewhite), he's become a pathetic parody of himself. He seems to have a remarkable sense of self-importance, and for proof, I offer you this as one example of many:

This is going to do nothing but make you envious of me, and so I'm not sure if I should write it or not, but I relate it only to let you know how thankful I am for the charmed life I lead, and to remind you that the next time I complain about anything job-related you need to put me in my place and tell me what a fool I am.

Last Wednesday, at the conclusion of the league meetings, I had a 5:15 p.m. flight on Continental from Phoenix to Newark. Being the baseball nerd that I am, I decided to stop in at the Arizona-Oakland exhibition game in Phoenix for a few innings, in large part because Randy Johnson was hurling. And so here came Miguel Tejada to the dish. Cool moment.

Reigning NL Cy Young Award winner versus reigning AL Most Valuable Player. Here's the pitch. Long drive to right ... twisting ... curving foul ... deep ... and 10 feet foul, over the fence. I thought -- and I have my reasons why -- what a good thing it would be to have that ball.

There was a moderate crowd on this toasty Arizona afternoon. And, after the inning, I walked out to the bleachers down the right-field line and looked over the fence that stood between the main ballpark and the back fields where the A's train. I asked a fan where the ball was that Tejada hit, and he pointed to the first main field, where a ball sat between home plate and the first-base bag. At the same time, a kid, maybe about 7, asked some other fans where the ball was; I heard him. And those fans pointed to four foul balls sitting in sort of no-man's land between the backstop on the first field and the fence where I was. I knew this couldn't be true, because the ball went over the fence barely foul, not 35 feet foul the way it would have had to if it was where the kid thought it was. And so I walked to the area outside the right-field stands where a guard and an A's official were making sure no fans got down to the lower fields and the players' parking lot. I asked if I might be able to get the Johnson-Tejada ball. The official said no problem, and I walked down, past the alerted guard, and onto the pristine field to get the ball. Behind me, all of a sudden, I heard the running footsteps of the kid, who'd apparently snuck behind me and got past the guard, too, and he scrambled past the backstop to get the ball he was sure was the one Tejada hit. I picked up the True Ball, and I told the kid: "I'm sure you've got the one Tejada hit," just so he'd feel good about it. And when the guard saw him walking back up the ramp toward the stadium, he tried to stop the kid, but he was too quick and slipped back into the stadium. (Just like I'm sure I would have done if I was a kid and had an MVP foul ball.) I thanked Matt sincerely, told him the ball would be put to good use, and went back to watch a couple more innings before catching my plane.

And now you know why I have the best job on earth.

Geez, I guessing King's editors cut out the part where he shoved the kid to the ground after he raced past the scone-stuffed, out-of-touch jackass. What. A. Tool. If I ever meet King, I vow to you that I will kiss his ass right up to the point where I tell him I loved him as Norm on "Cheers." Might not be original - the similarity is uncanny - but you know it would infuriate him, in part because George Wendt has him by at least 80 pounds these days, and in part because King surely thinks he's the bigger star. Gotta do something to puncture that bloated ego, people.

• And in a related note, how many so-called experts are revising their trendy Dolphins-Panthers Super Bowl prediction at the moment? I suppose the Panthers could recover should Steve Smith return to good health, but why Daunte Culpepper continues to fool people into believing he's an effective and winning NFL quarterback is a mystery to me. He's perennially overrated. Just like his team.

• I'm not saying Chad Jackson will replace Deion Branch, in terms of production or reliability. But from what I saw Sunday, it's at least a legitimate possibility, and for the moment, that's good enough for me. The kid clearly has tremendous skills. We'll learn about the rest soon enough.

• That said, I do miss Branch and David Givens, and I can't help but shake my head in disgust at the vocal minority who feel the need to denigrate their abilities and accomplishments simply because they are no longer a part of our team. Branch and Givens weren't the most physically gifted receivers in the T.O. sense, but they were smart, fearless, dependable winners who deserve nothing but plaudits for what they helped the Patriots accomplish in their four seasons here. I'll remember them well, and I don't understand why anyone wouldn't.


• Happy 50th, Big Papi. Thanks for bringing a little bit of electricity back to Fenway in this lost September, and for reminding me once again to never take you for granted.

• This made my day, not only because he is again healthy and doing what he loves, but because this column, from the fresh insight to the (completely justified) list of Very Special People, is absolutely classic Gammons. Damn, I sure did miss him this summer.

• Derek Jeter is going to win the AL MVP award whether he deserves it or not, but even Yankee fans will admit their dreams of Championship No. 27 hinge on the right elbow of their real MVP, the indispensable Mariano Rivera. To put it another way: Given a choice between having Jeter or Rivera healthy for the postseason, I think even New Yawkers would relegate Jeter to the status of World's Highest-Paid Bench Coach.


• Just how long has Junior Seau been around? The Chargers selected him with the fifth pick in the 1990 draft. The Patriots selected a linebacker themselves five picks later. Hey, anyone heard from Chris Singleton lately?

• While the Dodgers' four-straight-homers-in-the-ninth comeback was historically wonderful, and Nomar's I-love-this-game reaction after hitting the walkoff winner was a pleasant revelation, the best thing about that ball game's conclusion was the graceful, egoless call by the incomparable Vin Scully. After using his patented "She's gone!" as Nomar's shot cleared the fence, he was silent for a good 30-45 seconds as the cameras captured the Dodgers' pure jubilation. Then he cut in with a wry "And, oh by the way . . . the Dodgers are in first place," and signed off. It was simply perfect. Trupiano and the rest should be so elegantly articulate.

• The Reggie Bush saga, among the increasing list of USC improprieties, suggests to me that Pete Carroll has about as much institutional control with the Trojans as he did during his Pushover Pete days with the Patriots. He's a swell guy, a clever defensive coach, and a charming recruiter, but he commands about as much respect as a poodle in a dog pound.


• Bob Ryan referred to ol' No. 80 as "the venerable Troy Brown" Sunday, and I thought that was perfect. That stiff arm he unleashed on Jets DB Derrick Strait was straight out of a Walter Payton highlight reel, and he remains the savviest third-down receiver ever to run a pass pattern for the Patriots. It seems like he's been around forever - and on these days when he seems ageless, you almost wonder if he will be.

• Buster Olney, whom I respect and whose work I enjoy even though he rarely seems to be right, thinks the Sox are going to make a run at Eric Gagne if he doesn't remain with the Dodgers. I'm not sure if I like this, to be honest. While Gagne is as good as it gets when he's healthy, he's not healthy all that often, and I can't help but notice that he's considerably smaller than he was when he converted from a mediocre starter to lights-out closer in '02. I'm just afraid the risk outweighs the reward in this case, and the Sox need a sure thing more than they need another question mark in that bullpen.

• I'd be glad to be wrong, but from what I've seen of Dustin Pedroia and David Murphy, the Sox will be all set for a utility infielder and a 4th outfielder for the next half-decade or so.

• All right, here's my take on HandshakeGate: I'm fairly certain Bill Belichick is pissed Eric Mangini dismissed his advice and took a job with the hated rival, one that in the aftermath of the HC of the NYJ debacle, once questioned his mental well-being. I'm fairly certain Mangini is taken aback and a little bit hurt by his mentor's petty you're-dead-to-me routine. And that's all the bandwidth I'm going to waste on this made-for-Ordway storyline.

• The moment the ninth inning of Game 162 of the Red Sox season is complete, Terry Francona seriously needs to go into hibernation for about three months. The man is wearing every crushing loss, devastating injury, and unjust break on his face; he looks like hell, pallid and drawn, and he's not exactly the picture of health in the best of times. Get some rest, Tito. The Nation knows you've earned it.

• The rip job Padres GM Kevin Towers dropped on Doug Mirabelli the other day comes as no surprise to anyone who's been around the Sox's washed-up backup catcher for any length of time. Mirabelli's an accomplished blowhard with a ridiculously inflated perception of his own abilities; Francona couldn't wait to be rid of him after the 2005 season, and I'm sure he's just thrilled to have him chirping in his ear now. Man, this trade just gets better and better, doesn't it?

• After making the mistake of watching "Sports Final" Sunday, I'm not sure what Bob Lobel openly disdains more: The Red Sox, the Patriots, the fans, or Steve Burton.

• Not sure if this is a legit rumor or just wishful thinking, but it's worth noting that Sox media relations honcho Glenn Geffner used to do radio play-by-play for the Padres. Hmmm. Anyone know if Trupe's contract has been renewed yet? Please say no . . . please say no . . .

• Okay, the important stuff. Here's my prediction for tonight's season premiere of the official sitcom of TATB, the Emmy-winning "The Office": I'll drool and grin like a jackass every time Pam is on the screen, my wife will roll her eyes and tell me I'm much more of a Roy than a Jim, I'll counter by noting that Angela reminds me of her, but much warmer, then I will be ordered to sleep on the couch . . . in the driveway. Hey, it's kind of our Thursday routine, you know. As far as the actual show is concerned . . . I say Jim transfers to Stamford after Pam breaks his heart and stays with Roy. I say it's several episodes (or seasons) down the road until Pam admits her true feelings, probably only after Jim has a new best girl in his life. If you want more of my pathetic insight, well, hell, stop by. That'll be me babbling on the couch, down by the mailbox.

• As for today's Completely Random Football Card:


When I was a kid, way back in the days before Flying Elvis stole Pat Patriot's gig, my dad would insist that Russ Francis was the best all-around tight end in the game - better than Kellen Winslow, Ozzie Newsome, Dave Casper, all of them. I took it with a dose of skepticism - he also insisted Stanley Morgan was better than John "J.J." Jefferson, my third-grade football hero, and I knew that couldn't be true . . . except, ultimately, it was. And don't tell my old man, but I think he might have been right about Francis, too.

Word to ya mutha

Doon-doon-doon doo-doo-doon-doon
Doon-doon-doon doo-doo-doon-doon
All right stop!
Collaborate and listen!
TATB's back with a brand-new edition . . .

(See, this is what happens when I can't think of an intro to a notes column - I go and get all Robbie Van Winkle on you and completely blow my street cred. I suppose Suge Knight will be dangling me over a balcony at any moment. What say we pretend this incident never happened and get on with the column, huh? Oh, right . . . and enjoy having that atrocity of a "song" in your head for the rest of the day. You're welcome! Doon-doon-doon-doo-doo-doon-doon . . .)

• If there's been an under-reported story during this Sox season, it's regarding Jonathan Papelbon's complete and total dominance as a closer. Watching him make the ninth inning his own with his unhittable rising fastball and suddenly nasty splitter reminds me of watching Goose Gossage in his prime. I mean, Papelbon's given up one earned run. One. He's 20 for 20 in save chances, with a 0.33 ERA. And he's technically still a rookie. Simply amazing. ESPN will catch on one of these days.

• Has anyone seen Stan Van Gundy since Pat Riley realized he had a potential championship team on his hands and decided to slime the coach out of a job? Is Van Gundy still working for the Heat, or for some other NBA team, or did he return to his previous gig as Ron Jeremy's stunt double? No matter what his fate or how bummed he must be at the moment, at least he knows that he'll always be referred to as "the better-looking Van Gundy brother." Hey, it's something.

• I'm not saying I agree with him, but Cornbread Maxwell's oft-repeated assertion that he'd take Dirk Nowitzki over Larry Bird doesn't sound quite so blasphemous now, does it? (I suspect Larry still holds his alcohol better, however.)

• My pal Mike over at TLBR is a walking iPod, and he had a great list of song recommendations today that included a tune by one of TATB's favorites, Ben Folds. Mike writes of Folds's "Landed": Another song that usually I need to stop what I'm doing and collect myself. That's a hell of an honest admission right there, but I know where he's coming from. I've had Folds's "Still Fighting It" rattling around in the music studio of my mind for the past few days, and of this I am convinced: If there's a line that captures the heartbreaking aspect of a parent/child relationship better than "You're just like me/I'm sorry" I haven't heard it.

• All right, I surrender. The Arroyo-for-Pena deal is a bust, at least for this year. There? Happy? Can we move on to another topic now? We can? Okay, good. I've got one: Why Moves That Don't Take The Future Into Some Consideration Are As Short-Sighted And Stupid As Glenn Ordway. (Subtitle: Doug Mirabelli Was Washed Up A Year Ago While Josh Bard Is Currently Hitting .360 With As Many Homers As Varitek). Discuss.

• The Rocket re-signed with the Astros. He's not coming to Boston, even at the trade deadline, okay? Time to let it go, fellas.


• If you're wondering why the Sox would throw David Pauley to the mustached, occasionally employed, wife-beater-wearing bleacher wolverines at Yankee Stadium this week rather than bringing up Jon Lester, all I can say is this: The knock on the prized lefty when he was at Portland last season was that he wasn't as mature as some of the other prospects, particularly Jonathan Papelbon and to a lesser extent, Pauley. While Lester obviously is blessed with a big-league arm - he was pitcher of the year in the Eastern League last season, beating out Justin Verlander and Francisco Liriano, among others - the suspicion here is that he's still not quite equipped to deal with the pressure (and probable failure) that a Bronx debut would bring. To put it another way, the Sox don't want to turn the kid into Bobby Sprowl. I'd say that's prudent wouldn't you?

• Does Joe Dumars's boss realize his GM really drafted Darko Milicic over Dwyane Wade (and Carmelo Anthony, and Chris Bosh) three years ago? It was stupid then; it's historically idiotic now. Shouldn't Dumars have to return his Executive of the Year trophy and rescind any other accolades he's collected over the years, out of pure principle? This might be the worst personnel blunder ever committed by a member of the Bad Boy Pistons backcourt, and as Raptors, Pacers, Knicks and Continental Basketball Association fans know, that's saying something.


• I'm assuming that the poor sap of an umpire who was accosted at close range by Jim Leyland during the Tigers/Sox game today is still trying to get the nicotine smell out of his nostrils.

• Long ago and for better or worse, I accepted membership into the Antoine Walker Employee No. 8 Appreciation Society. My take on him was that he cared deeply about basketball and winning and being a respected member of the Boston Celtics, and even though his maddening actions sometimes left you wondering what the hell kind of screwed up impulses were going through his brain, he always meant well. So I have to say I was more bemused than surprised to see Shaq and Dwyane Wade playing it cool while ol' Toine partying like it was 1999 during the postgame celebration after the Heat finished off the Pistons the other night. 'Toine, who to his credit seems to have gracefully accepted life as a role player, should have taken a cue from his superstar teammates and acted like he'd been there before, even though, of course, he hadn't. Then again, that wouldn't have been like the 'Toine we knew and, warts, bricked 3s and all, enjoyed, now would it?

• Surprised to learn while banging out some agate at work tonight that Freddy Sanchez is second in the National League in batting at .345. While I thought Sanchez was a bit overhyped coming up through the Sox system - I considered him the Top Prospect By Default since there were so few to choose from in those days - he struck me as a player who could do a lot of little things well, had a good baseball IQ, and might make a nice living as a valuable utility player on a good team. Sort of an Alex Cora with a slightly better stick. But if the agate is to be believed, maybe the hype was justified after all.

• The whole MySpace phenomenon creeps me out. Yet as this pile of restraining orders on my desk suggests, I think I've made it apparent that I pretty much adore Jenna Fischer, the actress who plays Pam on "The Office." (Hey, at least I'm not stalking Uecker. Actually, truth be told, it's because she and her character remind me in many ways of my wife, and I'm not just saying that because I know my wife will read this. Hi dear! Love ya! Can we get pizza tonight?) Anyway, my conflict. As a shrewd way to increase the younger demographic's awareness of the acclaimed but ratings-challenged show, several cast members, including Jenna/Pam, blog on . . . yup, MySpace. I do hate the site - it strikes me as seedy, a place where Gary Glitter would spend a lot of time surfing. But her blog is actually becoming a must-read at TATB headquarters, not only for the insider info about our favorite show, but because she writes about everyday life - her favorite music, hanging out with friends and her husband, travel - and her status and unaffected style put an interesting twist on what might otherwise seem mundane. She comes across as grateful, occasionally overwhelmed, and just a little bit naive about her accelerating popularity. To put it another way, I can't quite imagine, say, Jennifer Aniston cheerfully soliciting autograph requests on a self-maintained internet site back in "Friends" fledgling days. I'm not sure she's doing it deliberately, but she's offering an insightful peek at what life is really like for the newly famous in Hollywood. I hope she keeps it up as her career ascends.

• Finally, thanks to all of you who sent me a note regarding my review of Rob Neyer's latest in The Globe the other day. I've been pretty atrocious at responding to email recently, so I just want to let all of you know that the kind words and correspondence are always much appreciated. For those of you who asked, no, writing isn't part of my job description now, and yes, I'm perfectly content with my gig on the desk. It's a blast, actually, and while the occasional review is fun, I mostly do it because I get to keep the book. I'm always geeked to add a new book to my sports library. Hey, have I mentioned that I'm an incurable sports nerd yet today? Probably figured it out, huh?

• As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:



Hmm, wonder if he could catch Wakefield.