Do not bat this man second

First, the praise: I admired Jerry Remy as a kid, and still do. He was the speedy second baseman on those late-'70s Sox teams that hooked me for life, the Fall Rivah kid living the dream. And for all of his huckster tendencies as a broadcaster, he's a superior analyst to every last one of the national nitwits, and he gets bonus points for bringing out the personality in Don Orsillo, who we still suspect is really a vinyl-covered automaton programmed to repeat old Sean McDonough soundbites at the appropriate times.

So, yeah, I'm staunchly pro-RemDawg. It's just . . . well, I recently discovered that he was a really bad offensive player. I mean, really bad. How really bad? Let's put it this way: Remy's career OPS of .655 is exactly .004 points lower than Alex Cora's. I think I understand Remy's verbal fawning over Cora now. Remy might be built more like Dustin Pedroia, but he knows Pedroia has more pure hitting ability than he ever did. He sees his reflection as a player in Cora.

Now about those stats - they're about as attractive as Tawny Kitaen's mugshot. (Click at your retinas' risk, Coverdale.) I first became aware of them a week or so ago when the Hollywood Sports Guy made a crack about Remy's career OPS, and I checked them out further while doing some research for this week's Fox column on the feeble '75 Angels, who hit 55 (yes, 55) home runs as a team. You probably knew that Remy hit just 7 career homers in his 10 seasons, since he jokes about it often with the OrsilloBot. But did you know that he had a career OPS+ of 82? That he was in the top 10 in caught stealing four times, including 21 times against 34 successes with the '75 Angels? That he was in the top 10 in outs four times? That his on-base percentage was .327? That his slugging percentage was .328? Not only was he unproductive, but he was remarkably inefficient.

Don Zimmer did a lot of indefensible things in '78 (running off the Buffalo Heads, playing a woozy Dewey Evans, starting Bleepin' Icewater Bobby Sprowl, sticking with injured, scatterarmed Butch Hobson . . . ah, hell, you get the point), but batting Remy and his .321 on-base percentage in the No. 2 spot in front of Rice, Lynn, and Fisk might have been the dumbest. It's like Zimmer had a metal plate in his head or something. It's a wonder his egregious lineup construction didn't lead to him getting taken hostage by a 10-year-old Rob Neyer.

I realize it was a different game then. The ballparks were bigger, the ballplayers were smaller, and second base, save for the great Joe Morgan, the criminally underrated Bobby Grich, and a couple of others, wasn't regarded as an offensive position. Second base was for the gritty, gutty gamers, the runts and the bunters, the pre-Ecksteins, if you will.

Which explains, I suppose, why Remy, despite his puny numbers, accomplished enough in his career to be rated the 100th-best second baseman of all-time in The New Bill James Historical Baseball Abstract. (Hey, to be ranked in the top 100 ever at anything is a compliment, even if Remy comes in 21 spots below Yankee punchline Horace Clarke). Wrote James:

When Remy was playing for El Paso in 1974, he wondered aloud if he would ever make it to the major leagues. His manager, Dave Garcia, overheard him and said, "Listen, do you know who is playing second base for the Angels?"

"Denny Doyle," said Remy

"Who runs better, you or Denny?" asked Garcia

"I do," said Remy.

"Who throws better?"

"I do."

"Who hits better?"

"I do," said Remy.

"Well then," said Garcia, "you're going to the major leagues."

Remy took Doyle's job with the Angels in '75 . . . then replaced him in Boston after coming over in a deal in the winter of '77. So it's all relative, right? There are a lot of second baseman who were worse than the 100th best. Doyle's on that list, somewhere.

* * *

Other notes scribbled in the margins:

• Considering he's the NFL's fourth all-time leading rusher, you'd think Curtis Martin's retirement this week would have merited more attention. I guess there's no time to appropriately salute one of the classiest and accomplished players in recent league history when a certain network's NFL airtime is alloted entirely to a flashy but second-rate quarterback's cruel way with animals. Fortunately, Newsday's Bob Glauber hit the mark with this tribute; Martin's quiet grace, on the field and off, was overshadowed in this day and age in which police lights and the spotlight are often indistinguishable. Even if his football legacy is mostly with the Jets, I'll always remember him as one of my favorites for his three terrific seasons with the Patriots. It's funny to recall now that early in his rookie season, after he scored the winning touchdown against the Browns, Bill Parcells warded off the media hype by saying, "Don't put the kid in Canton quite yet, fellas." Who would have thought then that the Hall of Fame eventually would beckon?

• I might as well say it, because it's become the truth: When Papi comes to the plate with the game hanging in the balance in the late innings, I'm no longer confident, let alone certain, that he's going to come through. And that makes me sad, in a melancholic sort of way. I'm not ready for that era to be over yet.

• Who's NOW? I mean, you're kidding me, right? Bob Ley must weep for what ESPN has become.

• Nice of Wily Mo Pena to tantalize us with his breathtaking, maddening talent once more before he departs. Or did last night's performance and Nick Cafardo's nice piece Thursday about how hard he works and how much his teammates believe in him give you pause about giving up on him now?

• Well, it sure looks like the wheels are coming off my Mark Teixeira-for-Jon Lester bandwagon. The offer Atlanta supposedly made to Texas for the 27-year-old slugger includes catching phenom Jarrod Saltalamacchia (another player the Sox should covet), and I doubt Theo Epstein could trump that offer without including Clay Buchholz, who should not and will not be going anywhere. Teixeira is exactly what the Sox need (check out Mike Lowell's career first- and second-half splits and try not to cringe), but at the moment, the price seems much too high to make it happen.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:



"Man, that job-stealing Remy punk is really starting to *&%^ me off."

TATB Live: Sox vs. Big-Head Barry

Two thoughts before we dig in here:

1) Barry Bonds is going to hear it tonight, and you, me, and Henry Aaron know he deserves every last boo. But I only hope Sox fans lean toward the creative side rather than the obnoxious side, because I get the sense certain Bonds apologists (boo-yeah!) are just waiting to say Boston disgraced itself in its treatment of baseball's most accomplished walking pharmacy. Go ahead and let him have it, Sox fans . . . but stay classy in doing so. Slowly climbing off soap box . . .

2) Dave Roberts is going to hear it tonight, and just as he's the polar opposite of Bonds in terms of personality and character, his reception will be the polar opposite of Bonds's as well. You surely need no reminded that his stolen base in Game 4 of the 2004 ALCS is perhaps the defining moment of that cathartic postseason, and other than his return for the ring ceremony in 2005, it's the first time he's appeared on the field at Fenway. Here's hoping his ovation blows away the Dr. Charles-orchestrated salute to Trot Nixon a few weeks ago. Without Roberts and his fleet feet, we might be talking about an 89-year drought right now.

All right, time to score some runs for once and get a win . . .

FIRST INNING
Roberts is leading off, and he looks genuinely touched as 37,000 or so Sox fans salute him in unison. (Though I have to admit, I thought the ovation would last longer.) Of course, while he's one of ours when it comes to all the highlight films and misty watercolor memories, he reminds us that its the Giants who keep his bank account full these days, singling to right off Julian Tavarez and coming around to score on Mark Sweeney's double into the corner. It's 1-0, Giants, and so much for sentiment.

Randy Winn grounds to second, moving Sweeney to third (they're so fundamentally sound in the NL) and bringing up Bonds and his size 24EEEEEEEEEEEE head. The reaction was pretty much one massive group boo, but it was hardly of the vicious Get-the-bleep-out-of-here-you-cheater nature the WEEI banshees led us to believe would take place.

Bonds pops weakly to Pedroia, who holds Sweeney at third. Guess who forgot to put his HGH on his pancakes this morning?

Tavarez heaves a one-hopper past Varitek, Sweeney trots home, and its 2-0, Giants. Just the start the Sox needed. Has A-Rod homered tonight yet?

Considering the over/under on the amount of runs the Sox would score tonight was probably one given the way they've been swinging the bats, this has to be considered a fantastic start. J.D. Drew gets brushed by a Barry Zito pitch, and wee Dustin Pedroia follows two pitches later with shot into the Monster seats, tying it at 2. By the way, is it obvious that my jokes about Pedroia's height are a pathetic way of trying to mask the fact that I was completely wrong about the kid? It is? Shoot.

Well, this is just a wonderful development. Papi argues a called third strike, slams down his bat and helmet on the way back to the dugout, and promptly gets tossed by home-plate umpire Tony Randazzo. As much as I hate to say anything negative about Papi, there's no denying he deserves this. First, the pitch was a strike, and second, it seems like he's never taken a called strike that he didn't complain about, which means he's probably getting the reputation as a pain-in-the-you-know-what among the umpires. And frankly, getting tossed from a game at a time when the Sox' offense is struggling and their lead in the AL East is shrinking by the day is inexcusable. He should be better than that.

Remy sums up the developments so far with his usual succinctness: "Plenty of action already tonight, with Bonds nearly hitting a home run [he just missed wrapping one around the Pesky Pole], Pedroia hitting a home run, and Ortiz getting tossed from the ballgame." If I've said it once, I've said it 1,000 times. There's just nothing like the Sox-Giants rivalry.

SECOND INNING
You know, I like to think I follow baseball pretty closely, especially now that I have the gig at Fox. I devour Buster Olney's blog daily, follow the minors like a "Baseball America" junkie, watch "Baseball Tonight," pretty much everything you'd expect. So it pains me to admit that I have no freakin' idea who this Schierholtz kid is that's currently at the plate for the Giants, and there were about a half-dozen guys one the Diamondbacks' roster last weekend that I wouldn't have been able to pick out of a lineup of baseball cards. Either I don't know as much as I think I do, or there are a lot of obscure players currently breaking through in the lesser league. I'm going to pretend that it's the latter, thank you very much. (And Tavarez, who I have heard of before, cruised through a 1-2-3 inning.)

Coco Crisp draws a two-out walk, but Julio Yugo grounds to third to end the Sox' half. I think my new policy is going to be to take my snack 'n' pee breaks during Lugo's at bats. (But not at the same time, sicko.) Good thing he's got only three years and $27 million remaining on his contract after this season. You're a sly one, Theo.

THIRD INNING
Roberts grounds to Pedroia to leadoff the inning as Tina Cervasio cuts in with a clip of Roberts talking about the warm reception and thank-yous he gets from Sox fans everywhere he goes - including, according to his anecdote, the bathroom. I don't imagine he's exaggerating - a buddy of mine ran into Roberts at a bookstore in San Diego a couple of years ago, and he couldn't pass up the opportunity to thank him for The Steal. My friend says Roberts was remarkably gracious, and told him a day doesn't pass when he doesn't encounter a Sox fan somewhere who wants to tell him how much 2004 means to him. As far as legacies go, that's surely not a bad one.

Tavarez works out of a minor jam (two-out double by Winn, intentional walk to the Human Syringe).

Upon further review, some nifty NESN split-screen camera work shows this Randozzo guy apparently had it out for Papi, peering at him all the way back to the dugout as if waiting for an excuse to run him. Says Remy: "If he had done that right around Randozzo at home plate, I'd certainly understand the ejection, no question about that. But that far away? C'mon, gimme a break . . . You can call that a homer call all you want, but that's the facts." As it is, Wily Mo Pena will be your DH for the remainder of the evening. Enjoy.

Drew singles (he's the present-day Rickey Henderson!), Pedroia reaches on a bobble by Sweeney, and Zito does the impossible and walks Wily Mo. So here's Manny, and isn't he about due for a two-homer, six-RBi night? Yes, yes he is. But he'll have to get the other five ribbies latee, because this time he bounces a fieder's choice to third to make it 3-2, Boston. It's probably worth noting that Manny was busting it down the line.

Youkilis hits into a double play to end the inning. Is it too late to take his name off the All-Star ballot?

FOURTH INNING
Benjie Molina of the Flying Molina Brothers leads off by hitting a one-hopper to Tavarez, who, against all odds, does not bowl the ball to first base, but actually throws it. Go figure. The Giants go down 1-2-3 again, and as usual Tavarez is giving the Sox everything they could ask for from a fifth starter.

NESN just showed Jon Miller, the ESPN Sunday Night Baseball play-by-play guy who is also the voice of the Giants. Maybe it's just my imagination, but he looks so much happier without Joe Morgan blabbering cliches and Big Red Machine anecdotes in his ear.

Ray Durham makes a nice play to throw out Coco on a roller up the middle, getting him in a bang-bang play at first. For some reason, I sympathize with Crisp in his current offensive struggles a lot more than I do with Lugo, perhaps because Crisp is actually doing something to help the team (Gold Glove defense in center) and seems anguished by his inability to buy a hit these days.

Lugo swipes second - his 19th without being caught, so I guess he is doing something to help the team - but this one comes with an asterisk. It appeared Zito had him picked off, but first baseman Sweeney threw to third to make sure Mike Lowell wouldn't break for home, and Lowell scurred back to third safely. Typically heady play by Lowell, and the Sox reap the benefits a moment later when Drew, who is apparently an amalgam of Rickey, Rock Raines, and Lou Brock as a leadoff hitter, ropes a two-run double over Roberts's head in center to make it 5-2, Sox. "Imagine if he finds himself as a leadoff hitter," Remy says with a laugh. Pedroia follows with his third hit of the night, scoring Drew to make it 6-2, prompting Orsillo to exclaim, "Here are the runs the Red Sox have been without lately!" Eloquent, Don-O, you vinyl-covered automaton. Vin Scully couldn't have put it better.

FIFTH INNING
Roberts pokes a one-out double to right, Sweeney bounces one to Youkilis for the second out . . . and then, wouldn't you know it, Tavarez busts out his mad bowling skills once again, fielding Winn's slow roller along the baseline and rolling it even slower to Youkilis for the third out. Francona looks like he just swallowed a wad of Copenhagen, but whatever works, right?

Sox go in order in the bottom half. Man, Barry Zito is going to be worth every dime of that $126 million, isn't he?

SIXTH INNING
Here's Bonds at the plate . . .

. . . and here's Bonds as an Alaska Goldpanner in, I believe, 1983.


Man, the dude really hasn't changed a bit.

Bonds bounces to second as Sox fans jeer him with what sounds like three or four different chants. The lack of cohesion is mildly disappointing. Maybe they should just go with the trusty old "steeee-roids" chant that used to greet Jose Canseco back in the day. Don't make it more complicated than it is, people.

Minor trouble brewing for Tavarez. With one out, Ray Durham singles, and moves to third on Molina's single. (By the way, I'm pretty sure that if they raced around the bases, Doug Mirabelli would lap Molina. The guy is so slow that time stands still when he runs.) But the Sox starter escapes, getting Schierholtz to ground to second. Pretty impressive performance tonight by Tavarez, especially given the team's semi-desperation for a win.

After third baseman Pedro Feliz punts Crisp's one-out grounder, Zito's night ends when Bruce Bochy gives him the hook. I don't want to belabor the point that this was a poorly-conceived signing by Brian Sabean and the Giants, but according to Bill James, Zito threw the second-most pitches below 80 mph in the AL last season, trailing only a certain local knuckleballer. My point: In terms of stuff and results, Zito barely resembles the young ace who went 23-5 in 2003. He's little more than a lefty junkballer now.

Drew, who is obviously the greatest Red Sox leadoff hitter since Wade Boggs was devouring chicken, Miller Lite, and Margo Adams, singles off reliever Randy Messenger to drive in Crisp, who had swiped second., and it's 7-2, Sox. It's like I've been saying, all the Sox need to get their offense going is to get that albatross Ortiz out of there. (Actually, I shouldn't even joke about a Papi-less lineup, should I? Bad karma - bad, bad karma. What say we scratch that joke from the record before the baseball gods get wind of it.)

Zito's final line: 5 1/3, 5 hits, 4 BB, 5 Ks, 6 ER. Hey, but at least the chicks dig him.

Now that's pretty baseball. With Drew running and the second baseman covering the bag, Pedroia pokes his fourth hit of the night through the vacated spot. Somewhere, David Eckstein is nodding his tiny transluscent head in approval.

Cervasio, who's due for a Murrow Award one of these years, has an exclusive with Ortiz's son, D'Angelo, who can't be older than 4. The kid's adorable, though a suspicious mind might note he looks more like Manny than he does his old man.

SEVENTH INNING
Another easy, breezy inning for Tavarez, though Remy points out that he seems to be limping and favoring one of this legs in his follow-through. No one in the Sox dugout seems particularly concerned, however.

Sweeney makes the final out of the inning, and I just want to drop a name Simmons-style here and note that he was a year ahead of me at UMaine and is a hell of a good guy. Which, come to think of it, is probably one reason why he's managed to last 13 years in the big leagues despite hitting .257 with just 41 career homers. I think even Bonds likes him.

Manny (who walked) is having a typically good old time chatting with Omar Vizquel while standing at second base. What are the odds that he remembers they were teammates for seven years in Cleveland? Fifty-fifty? In all seriousness, with the benefit of hindsight, it's astounding those Cleveland teams never won a championship, though I suppose they have Jose Mesa and Tony Fernandez to blame for that, as well as a pitching staff that never really had an ace. But those Belle-Thome-Manny Era lineups were so ridiculous, Manny sometimes batted seventh. (And while we were giving you Tribe flashbacks, the Sox get nothing and like it.)

EIGHTH INNING
The Sox have a new pitcher, and Remy dutifully informs us that "Okajimer" hasn't worked since the Sox were in "Arizoner." If anyone wonders why he doesn't have a national gig other than for reasons of his own volition, that classic Mass accent is probably why.

Bonds greets Okajima with a single. Must have rubbed some cream and the clear on the ol' Louisville Slugger between innings. (Sorry, pervs, but that's not a euphemism.)

Crisp singles to left off Jack Taschner, whom I couldn't pick out of a bullpen full of generic middle relievers. He appears to be lefthanded, however, which means he'll probably pitch another 20 years.

Two runs, eight Ks, 6.1 innings from Roger Clemens-Waldman tonight . . . um, not that I'm scoreboard watching or anything.

Drew just hit another one on the screws that Roberts ran down in center field. We joke about the whole leadoff thing, but he really does seem to be swinging the bat well lately, even if he hasn't always gotten the results. Yup, I suddenly have some hope for him - when he's been healthy, the guy has always hit.

Pedroia drills his fifth hit into the left-center gap, driving in two more runs (his fourth and fifth RBIs of the night), making it 10-2. And like I told you guys all along, the kid is going to make it no matter what all the numb-skulled naysayers claim. (Oh, okay, I'll admit it - I WAS WRONG! DOES THAT MAKE YOU HAPPY? I THOUGHT HE'D BE AS EFFECTIVE AS A LAWN GNOME! INSTEAD, HE'S A 1/16 REPLICA OF ROGERS HORNSBY! I WAS WRONG! AHHHHHHHHH!!!

All right, Manny's been lifted from the game, which is my cue to check out as well. But before I go, I offer you one more parting shot:


Give the guy a great hand tomorrow, too, Sox fans. For a priceless moment like the one he gave us, it's the least we can do.

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 . . .

Winter ball

When I grabbed the PowerBook and plunked down on the couch tonight, I intended to peck out a First and 10 column on state of the Patriots after their grinder of a victory over the wretched Lions Sunday. But with the news that the Sox have finally signed both J.D. Drew and Julio Lugo - I think both of these deals were first rumored during the Lou Gorman administration - baseball again grabbed the headlines in the sports pages of my mind. (You have no idea how much I wish I could cover these winter meetings. Man, it looks like such a blast. Maybe someday.) Anyway, we'll get to the Pats in the next day or so, providing they aren't again trumped by some relevant Red Sox developments. As for today's news, some thoughts we've been meaning to share . . .


• NESN jostled Jerry Remy from hibernation to appear in-studio on its nightly Hot Stove program, and we're glad to report he's as on top of his game now as he would be during a tense July showdown with the Yankees. He brought particular insight regarding Terry Francona's proclamation today that he expects Manny Ramirez to be with the Sox on opening day. Said RemDawg: "Terry Francona wants Manny Ramirez off this team. He wanted him off the team the last six week of the season, and he was adamant about that. Listening to the comments he makes, he's trying to do one of two things: Build up Manny to the rest of baseball so they can trade him, or smooth things out because he knows he's coming back." I'm pretty sure that's the first time I've heard anyone with credibility step up and say definitively that Francona feels Manny is more trouble than he's worth. Remy himself was clearly disgusted with Manny's absence late last season, yet unlike the Gerry Callahans of the media world who can barely suppress an irrational hatred for the goofball left fielder, Remy conceded that he's all but irreplaceable and sounded as if he wasn't dead-set on seeing him leave Boston. "I don't know who you could bring in except for Albert Pujols to make up for the loss of Manny," he said. All in all, it was compelling and rewarding television. Sure, Remy might be a huckster, but there's no one better at cutting to the chase and analyzing the sport. Even in December.


• I'm probably overdoing the Remy stuff here, but I also feel obligated to note how refreshingly blunt he was regarding the acquisition of J.D. Drew: "I haven't heard many good things about him," Remy admitted, before becoming the second prominent media person to compare Drew to Fred Lynn this week, following Peter Gammons's lead. Remy offered an interesting take on his laid-back former teammate: "I believe, and I think [Fred] believes, that if he stayed here his whole career, he'd be a Hall of Fame ballplayer . . . Because Boston pushed him, and sometimes, that works both ways . . . There's extra pressure to perform here, but sometimes you find out that certain guys you don't expect are at their best under pressure." I'd call that a lukewarm endorsement of Drew's chances here, but if the Sox are getting the second coming of Fragile Freddy, I think we'd all be satisfied with that, flaws and all.

• So what's my take on tonight's news? Well, I'm swallowing hard at the length and money of the Drew contract and reluctantly approving of the signing, with the caveat that he's coming here as the No. 5 hitter the Sox desperately need behind Manny and not as Manny's replacement in the four-slot behind Papi. As for his alleged laissez-faire attitude toward the game, my official position is that I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt, in part because I hate the idea of running a player out of town before he actually arrives, and in part because I've vacillated so much with my opinion on Drew that three people I respect this week accused me of pulling a Glenn Ordway and trying to have it both ways. And to be honest, I probably did go overboard with the hyperbole in my criticism, particularly by calling him a Cowardly Lion. That does a disservice to his talent, and here's hoping Drew makes me to look like a fool, even if it's apparent that I'm perfectly capable of doing so myself. As for the Julio Lugo deal, I think I can be a little less wishy-washy with this one: The Sox will regret this, they will regret this soon, and they will regret this dearly. I've never understood Theo's fascination with this average, erratic ballplayer, and I'm pretty sure I never will.


• Tom Verducci, a fantastic writer who nonetheless sometimes strikes me as the national beat writer/apologist for the Yankees, was the first to report today that Andy Pettitte could be rejoining Satan's Traveling All-Stars by the end of the week. Man, I hope this doesn't happen. While he's 34 and seems to battle elbow problems with increasing frequency in recent years, there's still a lot to like: He was outstanding in the second half for the Astros last season, he's a better bargain (hell, perhaps a better pitcher) than Barry Zito, he'd offer a huge boost to a Yankees rotation that is pocked by question marks and injuries, and his presence would likely make the Yankees the front-runners for his buddy Roger Clemens once the transparent dope ends his faux-retirement for the 21st consecutive season. Here's hoping the man they call Donkey hangs 'em up or remains in Houston. We don't need the Yankees pulling off a free-agent steal here.

• No matter what happens the rest of the offseason, this is the most encouraging news the Boston Red Sox could possibly receive. And how much do you admire young Jon Lester for the public grace and poise with which he faced his illness? Pretty remarkable person. Given his talent and character, the Sox are blessed to have him.

• As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:


Here's hoping he's the next beneficiary of John Henry's wallet.

Nine innings: 07.31.06

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

Blame Canada

Playing a spontaneous, real-time Nine Innings while watching the Sox piss away a 6-2 lead in the eighth inning . . .

1. Whoa, check out! A Manny Ramirez sighting! Now that we know that Manny is indeed going to hit a home run this season (whoops, there goes another one . . . make it two), can the 'EEI mouthbreathers please get back to much more pressing matters, such as yowling about the backup catcher and the fourth freakin' outfielder, spinning Bronson Arroyo's numbers to make him sound like the modern day Babe Ruth, and - this is the important one, so listen up, Tubby - dropping to your knees and praying to the great Marconi in the sky that the rumor isn't true and the Sox radio rights don't end up with WBOS. Because then you might finally discover that those ratings you are always crowing about reflect more on the teams you are affiliated with than the talent-free buffoons you employ.

2. Mark Loretta reminds me a lot of Bill Mueller, and I think every Sox fan would agree that such a statement is high praise.

3. I've been a fan since his Sea Dog days, but I'm beginning to suspect A.J. Burnett is Matt Clement with a $55 million contract and a chronically sore elbow.


4. I usually think Jerry Remy's analysis is spot-on, but I had to disagree with him tonight. I have no doubt Beckett was trying to nail Aaron Hill the half inning after Alex Gonzalez got his by a Jason Frasor curveball. He took a little off his fastball and hit the bull's-eye on Hill's shoulder, pretty much what a pitcher is taught to do when he's trying to send a message or exact some sort of silly revenge. Whether it was intentional or not though, it jostled awake the Jays, and three homers later we might have had our first instance of Beckett's alleged immaturity hurting the ballclub.

5. If it were revealed tomorrow that Don Orsillo is not really human, but a vinyl-covered automaton whose "voice" is nothing but appropriate snippets of Sean McDonough's old broadcasts, well, let's just say that the only surprise would be that Remy didn't give the secret away long ago by shilling toy OrsilloBots on his ubiquitous website.

6. Doom-and-gloom prediction: Mike Timlin will be pitching far less meaningful innings a month from now.

7. According to reader Eric K., Wily Mo Pena repeatedly referred to Ron "Papa Jack" Jackson as "Papa John" during a pregame radio interview the other day. Wily Mo must have been impressed when he met him: "You mean he's a hitting coach AND a pizza maker? That's awesome, cat!"

8. Heaven knows the Sox have made some marginal Blue Jays look like All-Stars in recent years (yeah, we mean you, Johnson, and that goes double for you, Lilly) but there is absolutely no shame in getting beaten by Vernon Wells. If he's not the best all-around outfielder in the American League, he's on a very short list. What a player.

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



How's this for a segue: I'll check in tomorrow with a player-by-player wrapup of the Celtics. You know, for the seven of you that actually care. Hey, there's a reason I saved it for the weekend.

(Sox lose in 12, 7-6. Not to get all technical and Baseball Prospectus-ish on you, but Rudy Seanez sucks. Ah, well. Hope Remy remembers to unplug Orsillo before he takes off.)

Oh, and what the hell - one more Completely Random Baseball Card just for the fun of it:



Moseby, the Jays' center fielder during their first winning seasons, was outstanding for a time, but Wells is the player he was supposed to be.