Late innings

The Fox column is on hiatus until pitchers and catchers head south, yet I've still got baseball on the brain, so let's chase some headlines . . .


The Red Sox re-sign Mike Lowell to a three-year, $37.5 million contract: I realize I'm late to the party on this . . . but c'mon, what's not to like? Great deal for the ball club, and a nice raise for the admirable third baseman as well, a classic win-win situation. I'm skeptical that Lowell will ever duplicate his sensational '07 season, but then, I was skeptical he would hit in the second half for the first time in his career, and all he did was win the World Series MVP award, so it wouldn't be the first time he made me look like a boob. And even if Lowell does fall off to somewhere slightly below his career norms offensively - say, if his numbers average something like .275-17-80 over the next three seasons - he'll still be well worth the sticker price, if only for his dependable defense and, yes, steadying influence in the clubhouse. Sometimes I'm suspicious that the recognition a player gets for his leadership often runs parallel to his level of cooperation with the media, but I think in the bilingual Lowell's case it's a legitimately valuable attribute. I'm glad he's still on our side, and with him and the Big Schill sticking around, it's nice to have a drama-free offseason and a chance to root for essentially the same core group next season. (By the way, isn't it just strange seeing Lowell in a Yankees uniform on that baseball card? It reminds of how disconcerting it was to open a pack of baseball cards and find this when I was 10 years old. I can't imagine the were serious about bringing their former farmhand back to play first base, though it would have been comical in this sense: Lowell would have been the second Yankee infielder in recent seasons to switch positions in order to avoid puncturing the massive ego of an inferior defender at the same position. Right, Captain?


The Angels sign Torii Hunter to a five-year, $90 million contract: I like Hunter a lot. He's charismatic and fun on the field and off, one of the most engaging interviews in any sport and a player whose passion for the game shines through in his play. He has 59 homers and 205 RBIs the past two seasons, and he's probably good for 25 homers and 90 or so RBIs a year into his mid-30s. And while all the homer-heisting "Web Gems" he made at the Metrodome probably caused him to get more credit for his defense than he deserves - should the Twins somehow acquire Covelli Crisp, he'd be an upgrade with the leather, despite what the Gold Glove voters say - Hunter remains a top-notch center fielder, even at age 32. But - and there's always a "but" around here, isn't there? - Angels rookie GM Tony Reagins is making a mistake if he thinks Hunter is the guy who's going to make life easier for Vlad Guerrero. With a .271 career average and a .324 on-base percentage, he's more suited as a No. 5 or No. 6 hitter rather than as a lineup anchor for a team with championship aspirations; to put it another way, his most similar career comparisons are Carl Everett and Preston Wilson. Zoinks, Scooby. Now, if the Angels should land Marlins enigma Miguel Cabrera - who I'd love to someday see in Boston despite his Body By Nutty Bar - then give Reagins a pat on the back and praise him for remaking the feeble Anaheim lineup (remember Maicer Izturis, No. 5 hitter?), because a heart of the order of Guerrero-Cabrera-Hunter makes them the favorite in the AL. But Hunter alone? Not enough.

The Twins reportedly offer ace Johan Santana an $80 million extension: If that's not a cue for the Red Sox, Yankees, Dodgers, Angels, and a half-dozen or so other teams to get their trade proposals into Billy Smith, pronto, I don't know what is. If Santana goes to free agency after next season, he'll make twice that, easily; hell, the offer is $47 million less than what the Giants gave a declining Barry Zito last offseason. So I guess the real question for the TATB readership is this: Would you give up, say, Jon Lester, Clay Buchholz, Jacoby Ellsbury, and another legitimate prospect such as Jed Lowrie, to bring the two-time Cy Young winner to Boston? The hunch here is that Theo Epstein, who is prideful about his "player development machine" and greatly values having low-priced, high-ceiling talent on the big-league roster, would be extremely reluctant to pay such a price, unless there's a concern about Buchholz that we're not aware of. I'm also curious if the Sox suspect, as I do, that Santana showed subtle signs of decline last season at age 28 - after all, his ERA (3.35) was the highest it's been since 2001, his ERA+ of 130 was his worst since '02, and inexplicably, he allowed a league-high 33 homers. Sure, it's fun to daydream of a Santana-Beckett 1-2 punch. But given the enormous cost - not so much in terms of salary but in terms of talent going to Minnesota - I imagine he'll end up in New York or L.A. instead. Besides, hasn't Boston plundered enough star power from the Twin Cities already?

The White Sox sign reliever Scott Linebrink to a four-year, $19 million deal: White Sox GM Kenny Williams is beginning to make me wonder if Chicago's 2005 World Championship was a happy accident. We all adore Orlando Cabrera around here, and White Sox fans will as well, but it made little sense to trade Jon Garland, a durable 28-year-old starting pitcher with 46 wins the past three seasons and a career ERA+ of 106, for a 33-year-old shortstop who had a subpar OPS+ of 95 in what at first glance looks like a very productive season (.301-8-86). I'm not saying Cabrera won't be a quality player for the White Sox - watching him play steady and occasionally spectacular shortstop every day might be enough for White Sox fans to be okay with the deal. It's just that I think Williams dramatically underestimated what he could fetch for Garland during an offseason in which the mediocre likes of Carlos Silva and Kyle Lohse are expected to sign for $8-to-$10 million per season. Chances are he could have got a heftier ransom than merely Cabrera for Garland, but at least an argument can be made for the White Sox' side in this case. There's is no logical explanation why Williams threw all that loot at Linebrink, a 30-year-old setup man who had a WHIP of 1.50 with the Brewers last season after he was dealt from San Diego. It was telling that Padres GM Kevin Towers, who knows a thing or two about putting together a pitching staff, swapped Linebrink for three prospects last July despite the fact that San Diego was in the midst of a playoff race; the Padres clearly believed that Linebrink's best days were behind him, and I'm fairly certain that Williams is the sole dissenter from that opinion right now. I realize Chicago's bullpen was flammable last season. Linebrink will do little to prevent the White Sox' late innings from going up in flames again.

David Eckstein is reportedly asking for "Lugo money," i.e. a three- or four-year deal at around $9 million per season: Yes, I understand his Everyman appeal. Yes, I know he's the patron saint of every undersized Little Leaguer and gritty, gutty, scrappy, dirt-doggy wannabe who somehow never quite was. Yes, I know he runs out every walk (all 24 of them last year) like a miniature albino Pete Rose. Yes, I know he looks so darned adorable when he dresses up like an elf, even if he really yearns to be a dentist. But the reality, at least to anyone who can assess baseball players objectively and without sentiment, is that David Eckstein . . . well, to put it bluntly, he stinks. To a clear-eyed analyst, his flaws are equally obvious on the field and on the stat sheet. He catapults the ball rather than throwing it. His range is sub-Jeterian. His career OPS+ is 89, with a mediocre best of 101. In 2006, he had 21 extra-base hits and 23 RBIs in 500 at-bats, and he wasn't much more productive last year. He is not an average baseball player; he is an aging one (he's 32), and an increasingly injury-prone one (117 games last year, 123 in '06), and by every single statistical measure, a relentlessly ineffective one. And yet I have no doubt that some ill-prepared sucker of a general manager surely will be come close to his asking price for no apparent reason other than the little fella hustles, and that dupes some people into thinking he's actually useful. So pay attention, because this is probably the only time you're going to read these words on this site: I'd much rather have Julio Lugo.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:



I give him all the credit in the world. Me, I would have gone by "Ricky" and saved myself the lifelong hassle.

* * *
Quick programming note: Barring unforeseen circumstances, such as yours truly snapping a tibia or two after falling off a rickety wooden ladder while following orders to clean out the gutters this morning, I'll be back tonight to live blog the Pats-Eagles game, so be sure to stop by for A.J. Feeley's public humiliation in real time.

Big decisions

This week's Fox column is here, leading off with a look at a couple of available third baseman of note. ("RE-SIGN LOWELL! RE-SIGN LOWELL"). Also, I'll be back late Saturday with a Sox/Pats/Celtics medley. Tonight should be a Boston sports night to remember - the Big Ticket's Boston debut and Manny on the "Tonight Show." Can't wait.

TATB Live: World Series, Game 4

I'm rooting for more than the Red Sox tonight; I'm rooting for the story, and I imagine you know exactly what I mean.

As appropriate as it might be for ace Josh Beckett to pitch the clincher tomorrow night, if you have a sentimental bone in your body, you want Jon Lester to be the one to deliver the Red Sox their second World Championship in four seasons a few hours from now. We all know that a year ago, the young lefty had far greater concerns than throwing a baseball. Now here he is, a 23-year-old cancer survivor poised to pitch a game we will all remember. Something tells me he's up for the challenge.

Other pregame notes: Trisha Yearwood sings a lovely anthem. For the record, I'm pretty sure she's not a Beckett ex. She looks more like Gagne's type . . . In the Fox pregame, Kevin Kennedy sagely notes that the Sox have some good young homegrown players (I'm pretty sure he first heard of Jacoby Ellsbury around this time last night), Joe Girardi offers a non-denial denial on whether he's the Yankees' next manager, and Jeannie Zelasko wrestles the last chocolate coconut donut from Mark Grace's grasp. The more I see of this crew and the nitwits on ESPN, the more I appreciate TC and the Eck . . . The great Fred Willard, reading the Sox lineup: "David Ortiz, no designated hitter, he wants to play first base, YOU TELL HIM NO!"

All right, let's get this done, the less drama the better. As much as I dearly miss my angst and a lament my lost identity as a Sox fan, for as much as I secretly enjoyed the stomach-churning, soul-crushing misery inflicted upon me by Grady Little in '03, I suppose I could live with a sweep, a sequel to "Faith Rewarded," and chance to watch Papelbon make a fool out of himself during the victory parade. Yes, I suppose I could.

FIRST INNING
Ellsbury slaps Aaron Cook's second pitch into left field for the a double. In a related note, Coco Crisp catches himself daydreaming about how he'll look in a Braves uniform next season.

Cook is the Rockies' version of Jake Westbrook, an occasionally effective sinkerballer, but he hasn't pitched since August 10. The Sox shouldn't lack for baserunners. It's a matter of converting them into runs and taking the Rockies out of it early. (Wow, that was Tim McCarver-like wisdom there, was it not? Excuse me while I take a swig of Metamucil.)

Well, there's one. Ellsbury smartly advances to third on Dustin Pedroia's grounder to the left side, and David Ortiz makes it 1-0, Sox with a rocket through the right side of the drawn-in infield. Manny bounces into a double play to end the inning, but the Rockies definitely have to be left with a "here we go again" vibe.

Rockies go down 1-2-3 in their half. I'd be glad to write that sentence, oh, eight more times tonight.

My 3-year-old daughter just came out to give me one more hug goodnight, yell her patented "GoRedSoxGoRedSoxGoRedSox!," and remind me to "drink your beers." Right now I'm feeling an odd (and surely misplaced) sense of pride.

SECOND INNING
Cook breezes through Mike Lowell, J.D. Drew, and Jason Varitek in order. It's funny, this is one of the few nights during the postseason that I haven't been at the Globe, and while we have the game on in the office, obviously we're too buried trying to make first edition to pay attention to the nuances of the telecasts. So, having just noticed this, I have to ask: Does a commercial break pass without the fake camaraderie of a Budweiser ad or a completely uninteresting promo for "House"? I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

Todd Helton, Mr. Rockie, leads off with a rocketed double to left. Ellsbury cuts it off and seems to have the ball just after Helton hits the first base bag, but he still beats the throw comfortably to second base. Yes, I think the Rockies have paid attention to the scouting report on the kid's arm. Let's just say he's going to follow in the Damon/Crisp tradition of noodle arms in center field, though his is slightly stronger than both of theirs - his throws reach home plate in seven hops rather than eight.

I've said it all along: David Ortiz is not a bad first baseman. Sure, he has the range of Mo Vaughn after a KFC Snack Bowl bender, and playing D takes a fierce toll on his knees . . . but he has excellent hands, and has Jeff Suppan can tell you, his throwing arm is strong and accurate for the position. I mention this, as I'm sure you know, because he just made a smooth scoop to spare Julio Lugo a throwing error. Youkilis wouldn't have done it any better.

After Ryan Spillborghs (whom I like a lot as a fourth outfielder-type, but whom Rob Dibble killed on 'EEI the other day) flied to center, Lester fell into his maddening habit of nibbling, and walked Brad Hawpe, who has been atrocious in this series. He slips out of it without allowing Helton to score, however, getting hot-hitting Yorvit Torrealba to ground to Lugo for the third out. I should note that Lugo made his two best defensive plays of the season last night, has been steady all postseason with the glove, and is even swinging the bat well in the series. If he and Drew keep this up, Theo's second-guessers are going to have no one left to complain about. (And I include myself among them.)

THIRD INNING
Cook gets the Sox in order again, retiring Ellsbury on a slow grounder to Kaz Matsui to end the inning. So far, the Sox have just two hits. Don't know about you, but I'm starting to miss Josh Fogg.

You think Papi really plays badminton? And if so, does he call the thing a "birdie" or a "shuttlecock"? These are the kinds of questions Tina Cervasio should be asking.

Gah. And now we have our first episode of the Manny In Coors Field Adventures. Matsui rips a liner to left that, oh, 90 percent of major league left fielders would probably catch. Unfortunately, Manny is in the other 10 percent, and it soars just past his reach and rattles around for a double. All of the statistical measures that I'm aware of say Manny is a horrendous defensive player, and while I happen to think he's made himself at least an adequate Fenway outfielder, this play gave us a sense of how much his home park masks his lack of range. (Part of it, I think, is that Manny has only one speed: ambling.)

Lester whiffs Troy Tulowitzki for the second time tonight. I saw the Rockies a lot this season on the MLB.com package (in part because they're so damn fun to watch as far as NL teams go, but mostly because I had Matt Holliday in a semi-lucrative fantasy league), and I think between here and in my Fox column I've made my appreciation for Tulowitzki apparent. You watch him play for any length of time, you can't help but think he's a bigger, rangier, less metrosexual version of Derek Jeter. The kid is going to be the Colorado cornerstone for the next decade. Now, that said, this series for him thus far can be filed under Learning Experience. To put it another way: The shortstop in the Boston dugout has been much better, and that's not something we've said about Julio Lugo, well, ever.

(And while I was writing Tulowitzki's biography, Lester whiffed Holliday. So far, so good, kid.)

FOURTH INNING
As Pedroia leads off the inning, Ken Rosenthal (who I hope to meet someday at the FoxSports company picnic, just to see if he really is three feet shorter that Eric Wedge, as it appeared during an ALCS postgame interview) tells us that Pedroia refers to his at-bats as "the laser show" and that his cockiness is an "endless source of amusement" to his veteran teammates. It really is a tribute to Pedroia's ability and "I'll-show-you" attitude that he could be such a vital part of this lineup and clubhouse after looking so overmatched in April. If you don't like Dustin Pedroia, you don't like the Red Sox. (By the way: Pedroia could definitely call Rosenthal "little fella.")

Pedroia grounds out, Papi pops out, Manny lines out, and I'm really beginning to become suspicious of this Aaron Cook character. Just where has he been the last two months, anyway?

Francona, when asked during those usually insipid in-dugout interviews what Lester's pitch count is tonight: " 'Bout 180." The dry wit (teetering on sarcasm) is a tremendously underrated aspect of Tito's appeal.

Joe Buck usually oozes smarm, but I have to admit, he's made a couple of good points tonight, especially in noting that the 2004 Sox might have had more talent than this team, but that the '07 version is set up for the future much better than the veteran-laden Idiots were. I hadn't thought of it that way, but he's right.

Lester retires the first two hitters, walks Spillborghs, then gets Hawpe on a popup to end it. Very, very impressive. If he keeps this up, he might be pitching Tim Wakefield into retirement.

FIFTH INNING
Good things happening. Lowell leads off with a double into the left field canyon. Drew grounds out without advancing the runner, but Varitek follows with a ground single to right, and DeMarlo Hale sends Lowell despite Hawpe's cannon. It looked like it would be a bang-bang play at the plate, but Lowell makes a beautiful slide and touches the plate with his hand for a 2-0 Boston lead. If there's any justice, upon returning to the dugout Lowell was greeted by Theo holding a three-year, $39 million contract offer.

We always hear that Lester is one of the purest athletes on the team, one of those three-sport-captain types who shoots an 85 his first time on a golf course and can dunk a basketball while wearing street clothes. But he doesn't particularly athletic with a baseball bat in his hands, and he fails to get a bunt down in three tries with two on and one out. Ellsbury follows by striking out (the Rockies have apparently figured out he'll fish for the low-and-in stuff), and we might consider this the first real lost opportunity of the night.

SIXTH INNING
See, this is where I really miss my angst. The Sox have a 2-0 lead, hardly insurmountable, and Manny Delcarmen, who has spent the postseason wearing a wide-eyed, "Holy bleep, I can't believe I'm pitching for the Red Sox in the playoffs!" look on his face, is warming up in the bullpen. If this were, say, 2003, I'd be chomping my fingernails and wondering how they were going to lose this one. Instead, I'm nursing a Shipyard Pumpkinhead, casually typing in my inanities here, and fully expecting that somehow, the Sox will be celebrating in Denver tonight. If enjoying this likable, well-run, winning baseball team means we've lost our identities, well dammit, I hope we never find them.

By the way:



Dude, I know. I don't believe it, either.

Pedroia, Papi, and Manny hit three straight ground outs, Cook is cruising, and I sure hope Lester can give them another easy inning or two.

All right, now I'm a little nervous. (IT'S NOT ANGST, LOBEL!!!) After retiring Holliday and Helton on, what, four pitches, Lester walks Atkins on a 3-2 count, and that after it looked like he had struck him out on ball three. I'm not going to question Francona's decision to remove Lester for Delcarmen here, because heaven knows Tito is managing circles around everyone this postseason (just as he did in '04). It's just that Lester has been so good, and Delcarmen so shaky lately, and . . . Delcarmen blows Spillborghs away. Tito, I hope I get the chance to buy you a beer someday so you can tell me how you keep a clear head (figuratively as well as literally, I suppose) with nitwits like me second-guessing you at every turn. Hey, did I ever mention I wanted the Sox to hire Glenn Freakin' Hoffman after Grady was sent back to Hillbillyville? I didn't? Well, let's keep it that way.

SEVENTH INNING
Lowell, solo homer, 3-0 Sox. PAY. THE. MAN. And that does it for Cook, who induced 13 groundball outs and did everything the Rockies could have asked for given his inaction the last two months.

Says Buck: "What a night for Mike Lowell. This could be his last night in a Red Sox uniform." You think so, Nepotism Boy? Well, aren't you going to be surprised when Theo presents him with a four-year, $52 million contract offer between innings.

Jeremy Affeldt in for the Rockies. I have never understood why this kid isn't a consistently excellent big-league pitcher - he has some wildness issues, but he has an unbelievable arm, and he's a lefty. I'd rather have him than every single Javier Lopez ever to play in the big leagues. (Official TATB Sportswriting Binky Joe Posnanski had a melancholy anecdote about being dazzled by Affeldt one hopeful spring day during his Royals days in a recent blog post.)

Lonestar does a fine countrified rendition of God Bless America. By the way, didn't they play at the Red Sox kickoff dinner that NESN showed three times a day in April? I wonder if the Rockies are aware of their dual loyalties. (And no, none of them dated Josh Beckett, either. That I'm aware of.)

Affeldt does the job. Nine outs away.

Well, here we go. Hawpe takes Delcarmen deep to cut it to 3-1, and I hate to say it, but you could see it coming. When Delcarmen is wild high, it's because he's overthrowing . . . and he's wild high right now. As the Sox infield coverges on Delcarmen to settle him down (Papi was particularly animated), the Fox cameras show Mike Timlin and The Hero In The Dark are up in the bullpen for the Sox. I wonder how many outs Okajima and Papelbon are capable of getting tonight.

Delcarmen retires Torrealba on a flyout, then Cory Sullivan singles, and that'll do it for the pride of Hyde Park. Timlin is coming in, and while he had nothing last night, I have faith in him in this situation that I didn't have in Manny D. This might be one of those situations were experience and poise is preferable to pure ability.

Sit, Matsui. Huge whiff for Timlin. Now he must get Tulowitzki, because Holliday as the go-ahead run is an absolutely terrifying thought.

Bless his 41-year-old, slopballin'-huntin'-fishin'-possum'-killin' soul, but Timlin whiffs Tulowitzki on a 3-2 pitch, and that right there is why Tito was so loyal to Timlin when he looked cooked in April and nitwits like me were urging the Sox to move on. That may have been the pivotal moment tonight, and just as he did so often in the '03 and '04 playoffs, Timlin came through.

Remember all the times I said Tulowitzki reminds me of Jeter? Still does.

EIGHTH INNING
This clown . . .


. . . leads off as a pinch hitter with an absolute moonshot to left, and it's 4-1, Sox. Hey, we always heard Bobby Kielty mashed lefties. He sure picked a swell time to finally show it.

Rosenthal jumps in with perhaps the first worthwhile "breaking news" report by a sideline reporter in the history of television: Alex Rodriguez will turn down the Yankees' five-year, $150-million offer and opt out of his contract, the alleged reason being he is concerned with the direction of the Yankees.

Buck and Rosenthal are speculating that A-Rod may be with the Sox next season, especially if Lowell isn't back. I'm sure I am looking at this with sentiment rather than logic right now, but screw A-Rod; Mike Lowell belongs on this team, not him. Slappy's made to be a villain. And by the way, you're telling me Boras didn't plant this story for this precise moment? He can't put a price on the publicity. I might think he was trying to steal the Sox' thunder, but since it makes the Yankees' look bad, I'll look at it as a rich dessert after a delicious meal. It's not necessary, but it sure tastes good.

Okajima in for the Sox. Bless him for his warrior mentality, but he has to be exhausted. His arm must feel like he spent the past five seasons pitching for Joe Torre.

Holliday grounds out (0 for 4), but Helton pokes one to left (he's a perma-helmet away from being John Olerud at this point), bringing up Atkins with one out. Huge batter here.

Dammit, I shouldn't have said anything. Atkins, who was long overdue, tees off on a 3-1 pitch, cutting the margin to 4-3. That's all for Oki, who I have a hard time faulting considering it seems like he pitched a high-stress inning or two every single day all summer and fall. Anyway, here comes Papelbon. Does he have five outs in that right arm tonight?

Spillborghs is making Papelbon work. It's imperative to keep him off base with Hawpe coming up . . . and Spillborghs grounds to Lugo as I'm pecking that out.

Hawpe, after at least one hideous swing, hit it on the screws to left-center . . . and did I mention that Coco Crisp is in as a defensive replacement, with Ellsbury moving over? Three outs to go. A couple extra runs wouldn't hurt in the top of the ninth, however.

NINTH INNING
Two outs, top of the ninth, one run lead, and Joe Buck is conceding everything to the Sox, calling them "the standard by which all other teams are measured - including the New York Yankees." It's a lovely sentiment, it really is . . . but can we save the freakin' bouquets until there are three more outs, please? At least McCarver is silent. Must have dozed off again.

Tek grounds to Jamey Carroll (who looks like Mike Piazza's Mine-Me), and to the bottom of the ninth we go . . .

Torrealba. Pedroia. Two outs to go.

IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE? SOMEONE PLEASE RE-START MY HEART! (Seriously, if that's Manny out there, I say Carroll's ball Cansecos off his head and we have a tie game. Also, I'm pretty sure what I feel for Jacoby Ellsbury right now is how my sister felt about Simon LeBon when she was 12. Or maybe it was Nick Rhodes, can't remember. God, I'm so nervous I'm having "Tiger Beat" flashbacks.)

Seth Smith. Swinging. Strike three.

Game over. Series over. Red Sox win.

Also . . .

WHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(No, seriously.)

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-
OOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

(For the record, the only angst I feel right now is that I didn't buy a friggin' couch in April.)

* * *

So my little boy, 14 months, just woke up, something that may or may not have had to do with the gutteral howl that came from the living room. Curiously, the same thing happened when his big sister was eight months old and the Sox had just ended 86 years of disappointment, agony, and yes, angst. Like I did with Leah three years ago, I brought Alex out, pointed to the TV, and said, "The Red Sox just won the World Series. Someday, that will mean a lot to you." Oh, this victory doesn't lift a burden or end any fictional curse or shut up that #*$**$ Yankees fan that's been on your case for years, but go ahead and try to tell me the joy doesn't wash over you just the same.

I'm Globe-bound the next few days - I keep hearing something about a special section - but I'll be back in the next few days to crank out TATB's annual season wrapup. Given that I started this site in large part because I regretted not having an outlet to write about the magic of '04, I promise that when I get the story of 2007 posted, it will be done right. In the meantime, I'm going to pop open that last Shipyard or two or six, lean back on the couch I wish I had replaced eight months ago, and savor this. I imagine I'll throw a few more notes on here in the next hour or so, but if you're checking out to go celebrate, I just want to say thanks for joining me tonight, and always. This - this - is why I do this. -- CHAD

* * *





POSTGAME STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS WHILE CHUGGING BEERS, FLIPPING CHANNELS, AND SAVORING THE CELEBRATION: Mike Lowell, World Series MVP. All right, six years, $84 million, but that's the final offer. (Seriously, he'd better be under contract by the time he boards the duck boat.) . . . Just caught Gammons talking about Jon Lester's performance tonight. I thought he was going to cry, and I can't blame him. I agree with the commenter on this post: That's the best game Lester ever pitched. I had my doubts about this kid before he got sick, wondering if his failure to trust his stuff would hinder his ability to live up to his talent. After all he's gone through - and how he came through it - how can anyone ever doubt him about anything again? . . . The 2004 team will always mean the most to me - you know what they say about never forgetting your first. But this one is special in its own way, and anyway, that comparison is for another day. One of the truly unique aspects of this team is the impact of the young players. Pedroia is going to own the city - he's a Dirt Dog with actual talent. Ellsbury is a jolt of electricity. We know what Lester accomplished tonight, and Papelbon has been established for so long that it almost feels like he was here in '04. Theo's dream of a "player development machine" has become a reality . . . NESN just showed footage of the '04 celebration, and I swear on a holy stack of media guides, Royce Clayton was in the middle of that one too . . .I've said it before, and I'm guessing a lot more of you agree with me now: There's no one else I'd rather have managing the Boston Red Sox than Terry Francona. He's now 8-0 in the World Series and 22-9 in the postseason. He's Joe Torre with a little bit of an edge and a knack for handling a bullpen. He's the right man at the right time in the right town. That "Francoma" b.s. has always been born from the miniscule minds of morons. I hope he never has to hear it again. It's time he got the universal appreciation from Sox fans he deserves . . . Timlin just brought Wakefield to the verge of tears, interrupting the knuckleballer's interview with Don Orsillo to praise him for being such a selfless teammate. Nice gesture by Timlin, and it clearly meant a lot to Wakefield. They're getting emotional in their old age . . . Julio Lugo and J.D. Drew are World Champions. Chew on that for a minute. And you know what? The way they played the last seven days, they damn sure deserve it . . . All right, I'm officially gassed, in a delirious way, of course. But before I go, I'll sign off with the sage words of an old friend, the most optimistic Sox fan I know (he knows who he is):

FIRE UP THE DUCK BOATS!!!!

(And to all, a good night.)

(P.S. - How'd the Pats do today?)

Weekend update

A few table scraps while waiting for the Yankees to claim J.C. Romero . . .


• Heard a lot of yowling from the hindsight specialists on 'EEI this afternoon that Theo Epstein made an egregious mistake by not taking up Curt Schilling on his offer to pitch for a mere $13 million dollars next season. Can't say I'm surprised at the banshees' reactionary outcry, considering that Schilling's masterpiece against the A's Thursday was the best pitching performance we've seen around here since . . . well, probably since Derek Lowe's no-hitter in 2002. (No offense, Pedro.) But for those who are yelping that the Sox should sign Schilling now, it might be time for a reality check. Schilling is going to be 41 years old in November, he struggled mightily in the second half last season, and while his cumulative numbers (6-2, 3.49 ERA) are very good, it's worth noting that he's battled inconsistency, particularly against the Yankees. Of course I hope he pitches well enough the rest of the season to warrant a new deal here, and I'm certain that his threat to test free agency would prove empty should he receive a reasonable offer from the Red Sox. But that does not mean it's not prudent of the front office to wait and see if he can make it through the season as an effective big-league pitcher before committing to him for the next one.

• One more thing about Schilling: You had to find it amusing that the Yankees, according to the New York Times' Tyler Kepner, hooted and hollered like they'd just won something important after watching Shannon Stewart bust up Schilling's no-hitter. We all know that Schilling is a polarizing personality who won't be winning any league-wide popularity contests (remember Ed Wade's infamous quote: "He's a horse every fifth day and horse's --- the other four"). But this sure looks like further proof that the conventional wisdom is wrong and the Sox-Yanks rivalry really does mean as much to the players as it does the fans. I also can't help but wonder how Johnny Damon reacted during the whole thing, considering his wife and Mrs. Schilling weren't exactly sorority sisters during Damon's days in Boston.

• If you ever wondered why Mike Lowell is universally acknowledged as one of baseball's good guys, consider this anecdote from Peter Gammons:

On April 20, Courtney Butcher of Worcester, Mass., a freshman at the University of New Hampshire, called her father, Jim, to talk about the Monster seats Jim had purchased for the family for the Sunday night game. Lowell was her favorite player. That night, right after Courtney talked to her father, she and three friends were killed in an automobile accident. That Sunday night, Jim took his other children to the game. In the 4-HR inning, Lowell's shot went right to the Butcher family.

The next day, a friend of the family called Sarah Stevenson of the Red Sox, who relayed the message to Lowell, and he signed a uniform with these words: "Courtney, May God Be With You, Rest in Peace." He also sent word to Jim Butcher that he would homer for Courtney. The wake was that Tuesday, April 24, and Lowell's uniform was draped over Courtney's coffin. That night, he homered against the Blue Jays.

• In the 2003 MLB amateur draft, the Red Sox selected Baylor outfielder David Murphy with the 17th pick in the first round. Two picks later, the Arizona Diamondbacks plucked the other player the Sox reportedly considered, University of California first baseman Conor Jackson. While Murphy, now at Pawtucket, has plodded through the Sox system and projects as a fourth outfielder in the big leagues, the highly regarded Jackson has emerged as an everyday player in Arizona, putting up a respectable .817 OPS this season. My point? In my usual roundabout way, I have two: 1) The Sox probably took the wrong guy. 2) The hype surrounding this week's MLB draft LIVE ON ESPN2!!!! was ridiculous. Half of the kids taken in the first round will never be heard from again unless you live in a Double A city. No one knows if their favorite team took the next Murphy, Jackson, or Danny Goodwin, and they won't for a few years. Which is why, despite ESPN's typically over-the-top coverage, this will never be a Big Event on the scale of the NFL or NBA drafts. Leave it in the agate type, where it belongs.

• Congratulations go out to Roger Clemens-Waldman, who pitched well enough in six innings today to qualify for a quality start. Goodness gracious, give that man a raise! Now, if you don't mind, could someone please let me know when the disingenuous oaf is done with this tuneup b.s. and decides to start earning his $4.5 million monthly stipend against actual major league lineups? Excepting Jason Bay, the Pittsburgh Pirates might as well be the Nashville Sounds.

• This dreadful Julio Lugo experience makes me realize just how much I wish they'd re-signed Orlando Cabrera and avoided this aggravating annual game of Mediocre Shortstop Roulette. Full confession: Yeah, I did think Edgar Renteria would be an upgrade. But that doesn't mean I wanted to see Cabrera go.

• As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:


From Saturday's AP story on the draft:

Former outfielder Kevin Romine had both of his sons taken on the first day: California high school catcher Austin Romine went to the New York Yankees in the second round, while brother, Andrew, a shortstop for Arizona State, was taken by the Los Angeles Angels in the fifth round.

Wait a minute . . . Kevin Romine is old enough to have two kids drafted? Man, as if I didn't feel like I was on the fast track to geezerhood already. I was almost sure he was still buried in Pawtucket, playing with Randy Kutcher, LaSchelle Tarver, Dana Williams, and Pat Dodson (and David Murphy, I suppose) and waiting for that elusive break.

Hard-hitting Sox

Scattered Sox-Yanks leftovers from Saturday while wondering how long it will be before Doug Mientkiewicz remembers how to spell his name . . .


Loved this quote from Mike Lowell explaining why the Yankees shouldn't be upset at his Daniel Graham-style beatdown of Robinson Cano: "They taught me how to do it." I'm guessing there are only a few fans with a greater base of knowledge than your average Pink Hat who don't know this, but yes, Lowell actually came up with the Yankees. He went 4 for 15 in a cup of coffee in '98 before they traded him to Florida that offseason for a trio of future Cy Young award winners, Todd Noel, Ed Yarnall, and Mark Johnson. Lowell acknowledged he was taught that was the correct play in that situation while he was a Yankee minor leaguer, and I have admit I was surpri . . . er, impressed when Tim McCarver (my FOX Sports homeboy - we actually carpool together, along with Kevin Kennedy and his enormous makeup kit) immediately recognized it as such, saying, "That's the right play there. Good play." Joe Morgan would have mentioned that the player Lowell creamed was a second baseman, his segue into another mindnumbing, nonsensical story about his days playing second base for the Reds.

Where is Rog-ah? Most likely limping around a golf course somewhere in Texas, berating the Hendricks brothers on his cell phone about how its their fault he signed with the lousy Yankees and wondering why this Waldman woman keeps leaving him creepy, breathless messages. And while it's not really our style to get all Simmonsy on you and gloat about a sorta-correct prediction (mostly because we're just about always wrong; see Pedroia, Dustin, Too Shrimpy To Hit), we cannot pass up the opportunity to remind you that A) we said upon his resigning with the Yankees that there was no way Clemens would pitch in this series against the Sox, and B) that his accelerated trip through the minors would inevitably result in a muscle pull, a chronic problem of his in recent seasons. To quote the great Troy Brown: I've got bingo! Now, as far as the injury goes, a "fatigued right groin" (we're trying desperately to avoid an Andy Pettitte joke here) doesn't sound too serious, and we have to figure the delayed launch is precautionary on the Rocket's part, if not the Yankees'. He'll be making his season-debut against that longtime and hated New York rival, the mighty Pittsburgh Pirates, soon enough. Heck, if I were a Yankee fan - and I'm at least a mustache, a dented Fiero, and a stained Jeter t-shirt short of being that - I'd be more bummed that Philip Hughes is probably done until August after spraining his ankle while rehabbing his pulled hamstring. I haven't seen much of Hughes, but what I have seen convinced me that every syllable of hype regarding this kid is legitimate. I thought he was capable of giving the Yankees a top-of-the-rotation starter who could go deep into a ball game, something I think even the most delusional Yankee fan would admit Clemens probably won't be able to do. (Whoops. Should have said the second most-delusional Yankee fan. Hello there, Suzyn.)

So Kevin Youkilis's hitting streak comes to an end at 23 games, and wasn't the way it met its demise appropriate? With the Sox holding a comfortable lead during Youkilis's final at-bat, the Sox's hot-hitting first baseman could be excused if he hacked away at a pitch or two outside the strike zone in an attempt to get the thing to 24. But instead, the streak died because Youkilis was true to himself: as usual, he refused to swing at a bad pitch, refused to waste an at-bat for a chance at prolonging a personal accomplishment, refused to deviate from the disciplined approach that has made him such an irreplaceable offensive player this season. I was not surprised to see the Fenwas fans acknowledge the end of the streak with a warm ovation, but it was nice to see nonetheless. As Uncle Joe pointed out on the radio, patience doesn't lend itself to long-hitting streaks, so this really was a quite an impressive feat.

Have you noticed that A-Rod seems to be going out of his way to goof around with Manny? The first time I picked up on it was after Manny threw him out at second in the series opener, and the NESN cameras caught A-Rod trying to get the Sox left fielder's attention upon returning to the Yankees dugout. (I think Manny was too busy chasing butterflies to notice.) There was another similar instance today, though the exact moment escapes me. Anyway, my point here is twofold: 1) Manny had better know that fraternizing with A-Rod is a good way not to get invited to Derek Jeter's next pajama party. 2) A-Rod is such a poser it'd be pathetic if it weren't comical. ("Look at me! I'm having fun out here! I'm carefree! Now please stop teasing me for being into strippers who look like Ric Flair!")

Come to think of it, now might be a good time for Larry Lucchino to ask Mientkiewicz to return that silly ball.

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:


Moose's mug hasn't changed much since his days as a fledgling Hagerstown Sun - even the vaguely condescending smirk is about the same. And in a semi-related note, remember when Mussina vs. Schilling was all but a guaranteed pitchers' duel? Seems like a long time ago right now, though I like the chances of our old guy better than those of their old guy. As one of my Yankee fan buddies noted in an email this afternoon, Mussina has been doing a fine Frank Castillo imitation this season, and I don't think that is meant as a compliment.

TATB Live: Dice-K vs. Norwich Navigators ace Chase Wright

Let's see . . . the clicker has settled on ESPN, our ass is planted in its usual spot on the couch, a couple of Red Stripes are within reach, and in anticipation of the fun the next few hours might bring, the broom is at the ready. Yep, we're officially in Live Blog mode. Play ball, yo.

But before we get rolling with this matchup of career one-game winners, thought I'd let you in on a couple of possible bets tonight, if you are so inclined:

• Dice-K and the Sox are heavy favorites at -170. Vegas does not love Chase Wright.

• The over/under on the number of times Gold Glove winner Derek Jeter's defensive problems are mentioned on the telecast: once, followed by a lame excuse that includes a reference to intangibles.

• The over/under on the times Joe Torre will get caught by the cameras "digging for treasure": Nine (once per inning).

• The over/under on the number of Dice-K pitches Joe Morgan misidentifies as "that's a cutter, Jon": (Searching without luck for the infinity symbol on my keyboard.)

Wager wisely, and let's go. (Sweep . . . sweep . . . sweep. . . ):

FIRST INNING
Well, that's not how it was supposed to start. After retiring Benedict Damon and Jeter, Dice-K walks Bobby Abreu, drills A-Rod (because the Sox do hit .300 hitters), then leaves a flat changeup on the outside corner that Jason Giambi pokes into the left-center gap to score two. It's 2-0, Yankees, and suddenly I catch myself wondering how you say "performance enhancing drugs" in Japanese. (By the way, Giambi is already sweating like he just stepped out of the sauna. The man is a walking armpit. Must be a side-effect of one of his vitamins.)

In terms of build and delivery, my first impression of Chase Wright is that he reminds me of Jon Lester a little bit, though the Sox's lefty throws harder. And like Lester at times last year, Wright seems hesitant to trust his stuff, which is why he starts out by walking Julio Lugo and Kevin Youkilis. Can't say I blame him - he's only the ninth Yankees rookie in 15 years to start a game at Fenway. The other eight either burst into tears or spontaneously combusted from the stress of the experience. True story. Domingo Jean was nothing but a grease spot and a pair of spikes by the time the Faithful got done with him.

All right, this Wright kid is officially . . . what's the term? . .. oh, yes, a puke. After getting Papi and Manny to pop to Abreu - both on very hittable pitches - he gets two strikes on J.D. Drew, then throws him a slider in the dirt, a good pitcher's pitch. Drew checks his swing, but before the third base umpire can rule whether he went, Wright hops off the mound and is halfway to the dugout before the ump rules no swing. Save that cocky ---- for when you have more than one (1) win above Double A, kid. (Drew whiffs on the next pitch to leave two runner stranded. Wright resists the temptation to do an Eck-style fist pump and point.)

SECOND INNING
Joe Morgan: "Watching Matuzaka now, you can just tell he's a good pitcher." You know, I was going to mock him for stating the obvious, but that might be the most insightful thing he's ever said. Sure doesn't take much to win an Emmy these days, does it? Dice-K cruises through the second, thanks in part to a nice running catch by Wily Mo Pena in center, who puts a sizable dent in the Monster after a minor post-catch collision.

Wright's starting to look like one of those ----balling lefties who've made a habit of tormenting the Sox the last few seasons. He's got a good change, a decent slider, and a fastball that touches 92. It's a more than adequate arsenal, though his command is shaky at best. (Exhibit A: He just walked the virtually unwalkable Pena as I was writing this.) Still, he gets out of it. Future Pawtucket mainstay Dustin Pedroia's first extra-base hit of the season, a rocketed double into the left field corner, goes for naught as Lugo grounds to three-time Gold Glove winner Captain Jetes, who flashes his two-step range and retires Lugo at first. Calm Eyes!

THIRD INNING
Uh-oh. Early trouble for Dice-K in the second. Damon singles up the middle, then Dice-K plants one in Jeter's back. It didn't look intentional - Jeter is a notorious diver - but now he has to deal with Abreu, A-Rod, and the Walking Chemistry Experiment with runners on. Man, they don't have lineups like this in Japan.

Abreu whiffs. A-Rod whiffs. And Juicin' G. should have been retired, but his broken-bat flare to right nicks off a retreating Pedroia's glove as Damon crosses the plate to make it 3-0. Pedroia, who had shifted to shallow right already for the pull-heavy Giambi, absolutely should have made the play, and if he were taller than 5-foot-6 or blessed with better range than a lawn gnome, he would have. (Robinson Cano whiffs to end the inning.)

I thought my dad was the only person on earth who still wore those goofy glasses that tint depending upon the level of sunlight, but Gammons, doing his sideline/insight thing tonight, also has them on. I wonder if Gammons also hikes his tube socks up to his knees while wearing shorts and sandals. That's my dad's sartorial trademark, you know.

Morgan is prattling on about how Wright can't keep getting away with throwing only his changeup for strikes. Meanwhile, Papi just popped up, the Sox have but one hit, and Jamie Moyer has 218 wins . . .

. . . and Manny just wallops a changeup to the Mass Pike to make it 3-1, Evil.Do I have to give Morgan credit for making a reasonable point there? I do? Damn.

. . . Um, geez, I guess I do, because J.D. Drew creamed another Wright meatball over everything in right-center to make it 3-2. Like I said, you can't live on the changeup alone. Nope, not in this league.

. . . Holy ----. Back-to-back-to-freakin'-back, with Mike Lowell hitting the longest yet, an absolute bomb that should be landing in your swimming pool at any moment. Oh, and that Joe Morgan? Love him! Give him another Emmy. He knows his stuff.

. . . All right, now this is getting ridiculous. Jason Varitek makes it four homers in nine pitches - the first time the Sox have ever hit four consecutive homers - and Chase Wright is morphing into Bobby Sprowl before our eyes. Theo Epstein's reaction sums it up best: "Oh. My. God." Wily Mo whiffs trying for five, but it's 4-3, Sox, and this one just got fun again.

FOURTH INNING
Nice, easy uneventful inning for Dice-K - in other words, just want you want your pitcher to do after the offense has just given you a lead.

Torre manages to get through his between-innings interview without sticking his finger in his nostrils. Progress, Joe. Progress.

Colter Bean, an enormous (6-foot-7) slopballer who spent a spring as a Rule 5 pick with the Sox a few years ago, is in for the Yankees. We're going to assume Chase Wright is either curled up in the fetal position in the shower or on a bus to Scranton. Probably the former.

Papi's wearing No. 42 tonight as the Sox are paying tribute to Jackie Robinson after rain washed out the original day of homage. Papi's one of the select few players I think should be permitted to wear Robinson's number on a regular basis - it just seems right to me that his number would be on the field, rather than permanently retired - though seeing the 42 on Papi's back is giving me Mo Vaughn flashbacks. Anyway, Mo . . . er, Papi is stranded on second after a double, and it's still 4-3, Sox.

FIFTH INNING
So it turns out Francona's dad, Tito, was involved the only other time in history that one pitcher gave up four consecutive home runs. Also, Drew was one of the Dodgers that hit four straight homers to win that memorable game in the ninth inning last season. Baseball always seems to have cool coincidences like that, doesn't it?

Jeter dinks a hanging slider (according to Morgan) into the Monster Seats, and it's 4-4. And no, that's probably not the only time "Jeter" and "dinks" have been mentioned in the same sentence.

Someone needs to tell Jon Miller than Dice-K doesn't throw a freakin' gyroball. I realize that working with Morgan all these years has probably broken his spirit, but he's starting to get annoying with the inane references to something that doesn't exist.

Dice-K throws several pitches that aren't gyroballs, striking out Abreu and A-Rod and getting Giambi to pop up to escape the inning. Time to up the dosage, G.

My wife just realized her Sunday night habit of watching "Desperate Housewives" was sacrificed for the sake of this blog, though it looks like the DVR saved the day. I actually find the show funny and well-written in a hammy sort of way, and of course there are other reasons for a guy to watch as well. Teri "They're real and they're spectacular" Hatcher, a pretty decent comedic actress, would probably get my vote for the show's hottest babe, if only because I've seen one too many frightening photos of Eva Longoria without makeup.

(What, you haven't seen the pics?)

(Well, trust me, you don't want to. You'll never look at her the same way again.)

(You want to see them? Really? Are you sure?)

(Okay, if you insist, but don't blame me if your retinas burn.)



(All right, it's not that bad. But it's not quite what she's selling on the show, either. Wonder if Tony Parker knows about this.)

Oh, and the Sox don't score.

SIXTH INNING
The number of Yankees I've liked over the years is roughly the same as the number of championship rings Alex Rodriguez has won, but I have to admit, I really am coming to appreciate - okay, like - Robinson Cano. Not only is he a line-drive machine who's going to win a batting crown or two, but he seems like a terrific kid who appreciates his place in the world. He also plays the game the right way, as his shrewd first-to-third baserunning on bloop single that fell in in front of Drew just put the Yankees in position to go ahead, 5-4, on a double-play grounder by Melky Cabrera.

Andy Pettitte, who started Friday in the opener of this series, is coming in in relief. Hmm, Torre knows he has a recent history of elbow problems, right? He remembers that an MRI that made Pettitte's elbow look like pastrami is the reason why the Yankees let him go after the 2003 season, right? Guess this is one of those April must-wins for the Yankees, because otherwise this really doesn't make much sense. When Pettitte's visiting Dr. James Andrews in July, let's remember this one.

Jon Miller just referred to Pettitte as "Clemens." Does he know something? Was there a formal union over the winter? Should we get them something? Candlesticks make a lovely gift. The new Mr. Clemens gets Papi to hit into an inning-ending double play, so I suppose the move works for now.

SEVENTH INNING
Dice-K whiffs Abreu on a nasty gyroball* to set the Yankees down in order in the seventh. Looks like Scott Proctor is coming in for the Yankees. Meanwhile, Pettitte is phoning Tommy John to ask for advice on how to comb his hair now that he can't lift his arm over his head.

* - Not actually a gyroball, but who would expect an Emmy Award-winning baseball broadcaster to recognize a forkball, anyway?

Manny greets Proctor with a hard single to right. When Manny starts smoking the ball the opposite way, it's a tell-tale sign that he's about to go on one of his patented tears. And it looks like he will get one more at-bat tonight. Just sayin'.

Drew inside-outs a curveball that scrapes off the wall in the left. Classic Fred Lynn double right there, and yes, Drew does remind me a lot of Fragile Freddy, for reasons mostly good.

Well, maybe those of us who have been fretting that Mike Lowell will suffer an offensive decline this season should shut the *%*% up for a while. Lowell just cranked his second homer of the night, three-run line shot off the base of the Coke bottles, giving the home team a 7-5 lead. Did we mention that this is - er, make that was - Proctor's 12th appearance in 17 games? Leave it to Torre to ride his horses until they turn into glue . . . in April. As it is, Proctor's out, and Luis Vizcaino, this year's version of Antonio Osuna and Felix Rodriguez, a hard thrower with a penchant for melting down, is in.

EIGHT INNINGS
After giving up a single to A-Rod on a 2-2 pitch, Dice-K's debut against the Yankees comes to an end with this line: 106 pitches, 7 innings, 8 hits, 1 walk, 7 Ks, 5 earned runs. Acceptable, though hardly an ace-like performance. I was mildly surprised he got a standing ovation, but then, he's leaving with the lead. I'll really complain when we start giving every damn home run hitter a curtain call.

The Yankees aren't going to surrender quietly, are they? After A-Rod's single, new folk hero Hideki Okajima gives up a single to left center by Giambi, bringing longtime Sox pest Jorge Posada to the plate as a pinch hitter. Suddenly, I'm sweating like Giambi.

Walk. Loaded. Okajima out, Donnelly in, Cabrera up. Hold me.

Cabrera grounds into a fielder's choice in which that little weasel Miguel Cairo swipes at Lugo to prevent him from turning two, and it's 7-6, Sox.

Suddenly, I feel kind of bad for all of the Pedroia short jokes. That was one hell of a clutch play. Then again, he probably wouldn't have been able to make that diving stab to rob Josh Phelps of what surely would have been a go-ahead two-run single had he not been so low to the ground in the first place. (Sorry. Old habits, you know.)

Papelbon is getting loose, with Damon, Jeter, and Abreu due up in the ninth. A few insurance runs here sure wouldn't hurt. Maybe four homers in a row, if that's not too much to ask?

Phelps is now catching for the Yankees, the first time he's caught in the big leagues since 2001. So far, he actually looks like he knows what he's doing.

Manny ropes hit No. 3 tonight. The hot streak is officially underway. Unfortunately, he's left stranded, and it comes down to Papelbon against the heart of the Yankees' order, just as it should, I suppose.

NINTH INNING
"Gritty at-bat by Damon," Jon Miller says, and I guess he's right, though I thought it was an unwritten rule that only David Eckstein can be called "gritty" after hitting a routine fly to left.

Now that's a fastball. Sit your intangibled ass down, Captain. Two outs.

Abreu walks on a high 3-2 fastball that looked like it was about 102 mph. Remember how A-Rod recently said that it always seems to come down to him, good or bad? I think he was onto something.

Mr. Clutch reverts to his Fenway form and bounces an 0-2 pitch to Lowell, and the Sox have their first sweep of the Yankees at Fenway since 1990. A hell of fun game, all in all. As for parting thoughts: It would have been nice if Dice-K could have spun a gem, but thanks to an offense that got a lot of production this weekend from some players (Coco Crisp, Lowell, Varitek) who had been concerning us, we're certainly satisfied with the final results. Hey, he's 1-0 lifetime against the Yankees, the Sox are 3-0 against the Yankees in '07, and it's starting to look like this could be a very interesting summer at Fenway. Nothing to bitch about here. Speaking of which: Remind me to pick up the New York tabloids tomorrow, will you?

2007 Red Sox preview capsule

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Analyzing Bill James's Red Sox projections, Part 1

Last season, Bill James projected that Kevin Youkilis would bat .278 with 14 homers and 68 RBIs in 149 games in his first full season as a big leaguer.

James, being a calculator-toting nerdling who obviously wouldn't know a baseball if one beaned him in his headgear, was, of course, wrong. Youkilis batted .279 with 13 homers and 72 RBIs in 147 games. The Mind of Bill James, my $#@.

All right, so you've got us: we were just trying to sound like your standard bitter, closed-minded, old-school, stat-mocking, Goodwill-wardrobed baseball writer there. (Our model was Murray Chass, if you must know.) As you probably realize if you've visited this space previously, we unabashadly admire James not only for the pioneering ways he has enhanced baseball analysis, but because he is one hell of a fun writer to read. There aren't too many people who can mesh words and numbers into a compelling package. He can, and you bet I'm glad he's a Red Sox employee.

Of course, that doesn't mean we always agree with his conclusions. For instance, I'm not sure how he can project Trot Nixon to hit 223 career homers, when the calcifying 33-year-old outfielder has just 133 right now and has totaled just 27 over the past three seasons. By my calculations, it would take Trot 10 years to hit the 90 he needs to fulfill James's projection. At the rate he's going, I'm not sure Trot will have all of his limbs a decade from now.

Nevertheless, it all makes for fun debate. And with that in mind, we here at TATB cracked open the 2007 Bill James Handbook that always seems to be within an arm's length, and took a look at James's 2007 stat projections for each relevant member of the Red Sox. Check out the numbers he came up with (and our take on said numbers), and let us know how accurate you think he'll be:

THE LINEUP
Julio Lugo
James's projection: .277-11-55 in 564 at-bats; 25 steals
TATB's take: Alex Gonzalez hit .255 with 9 homers and 50 RBIs in nearly 200 fewer at-bats lats season, and the 2006 season highlight reel is proof that he is just about peerless defensively. In other words, Lugo is going to have to surpass James's projections and play better D than he is known for if Sox fans are going to stop reminding him about his predecessor.

Kevin Youkilis
.283-14-77 in 584 at-bats; 101 runs; .395 OBP
These numbers seem about right for Youkilis, although you'd hope he could avoid another late-season fade and perhaps increase his power in his second season as a regular. Is 20 homers too much to ask?

Papi
.285-47-138 in 601 at-bats
I'm somewhat surprised that he forecasts a 7-homer dropoff given that Papi has increased his home run total each season since 2000 (10-18-20-31-41-47-54). Then again, how much better can the big guy possibly get? Do I hear 60 taters?

Manny
.305-37-118 in 512 at-bats; 1.004 OPS
For all of the kvetching about his quirks, there is no more reliable player in baseball in terms of offensive production. So it is that James predicts another typical Manny season, one that would leave him with 507 homers. I don't know about you, but I'm planning on being in Cooperstown for his Hall of Fame speech a dozen years or so from now. It's worth noting that James pegs Manny to play 140 games, which means 22 days' worth of mind-numbing programming for the Big Show is already preset.

J.D. Drew
.283-24-82 in 499 at-bats
A lot of the stat gurus think Drew will be hindered by Fenway power-wise and is more likely to finish in the high teens in home runs. I'm fine with swapping a few homers for a few doubles. All that really matters is that Drew stays healthy and on the field, because he will produce if he plays.

Mike Lowell
.273-18-77 in 502 at-bats
Given that his bat was as slow as Heather Mills's 40-yard-dash time in the second half last season, I'd take these numbers without a moment's hesitation. At least we know his defense will be stellar.

Jason Varitek
.259-17-69 in 468 at-bats
Ditto what I said for Lowell. I don't doubt that Varitek has the will to bounce back. It's just that 35-year-old catchers coming off knee surgery rarely do.

Coco Crisp
.284-11-54 in 511 at-bats; 23 steals
With good health, ol' Covelli Loyce eclipses these numbers with ease and duplicates the .300-16-69 line he put up in his last season with the Tribe. Let's just hope that finger is finally healed, because at 27, there's still time for him to become a dynamic offensive player.

Dustin Pedroia
.284-10-72 in 619 at-bats; 47 doubles
And with these numbers comes a dilemma: Finding a place for an AL Rookie of the Year Trophy that's bigger than he is.

(Pitchers and other suspects coming up in tomorrow's post.)

Closed for the summer

Appropriate ending when you think about it, what with circumstances conspiring to ruin something potentially memorable one last time. I could be talking about the small picture of Game 162 (Mother Nature washing out Devern Hansack's improbable no-hit bid) or the big picture of all 162 games (an ER's worth of ill-timed injuries derailing a bid for a fourth consecutive playoff berth). And of course, both the season and its finale ended sooner than we expected.

So now we must speak of this 86-win, third-place bummer of a season in the past tense. And while we'll save our deeper analysis and crackpot theories about What Went Wrong for another rainy day, let's spend a few words on the remaining players who made this season what it was, for better or worse:

CATCHERS
Jason Varitek.238, 12 HRs, 55 RBIs: Catchers notoriously decline offensively at age 32, and Varitek followed the well-worn pattern this season; he can't hit a good pitching anymore, and ideally, he'd bat eighth or ninth in the lineup at this point. But Lord, how he was missed when he was knocked out for a month by a knee problem. He's still a stalwart defensively, calls a good game and commands respect, and is worth every penny of his contract even when he's flailing at an eye-high fastball.

Doug Mirabelli.193-6-25: He was washed up last year . . . and yet I bet I Doug Mirabelli still thinks the Sox trade of Cla Meredith and Josh Bard for Doug Mirabelli and Doug Mirabelli's massive ego was a fantastic trade for the Red Sox. Yes, Doug Mirabelli brings new meaning to the phrase "tool of ignorance."

DESIGNATED HITTER
David Ortiz .287-54-137: What else can be said? When the games mattered, he made sure DH stood for Designated Hero. And when the season was lost, his successful bid to set the single-season franchise homer mark gave us reason to cheer again. When Papi's around, it's always a blast. Please don't take him for granted, because he's a once-in-a-fan's-lifetime gift.

INFIELDERS
Kevin Youkilis .279-13-72: He was so steady that it was easy to forget that this was really his first full season - and on top of establishing himself as an everyday player, he made the transition from third base to first with remarkable grace. The Eck noted tonight he thought Youks played Gold Glove defense. Given his immensely valuable ability to work the count and wear down pitchers, The Greek . . . er, Jewish God of Walks should be the leadoff hitter next season. Now if he'd just stop bitching after every called strike . . .

Mark Loretta .285-5-59: He's about as exciting as vanilla ice cream, he has the range of your grandmother's walker, and the stragglers from the Jeff Frye Admiration Society tend to exaggerate his contributions . . . yet he had his share of late-inning highlights, he catches everything hit his way and turns two with grace and precision, and he's still a tough out even though he's primarily a singles hitter these days. My verdict: Sign him for one more year, if he's willing, and let Pedroia shorten that swing down in Pawtucket.

Alex Gonzalez.255-9-50: I'm sorry, but he won't win the Gold Glove. Didn't you get the memo from McCarver? This is the year to fete Captain Jetes for all his excellent years in anonymity, and he's going to collect this award (among others) despite the fact that Gonzalez is the best defensive shortstop in the AL since Omar Vizquel had all his hair. It was a treat to watch him and Lowell turn the left side of the infield into Web Gem Central, and despite his particle board bat, I hope he's back in Boston next season if the price is right.

Mike Lowell .284-20-80: The best defensive third baseman the Sox have had since Butch Hobson (oh, c'mon, he was my boyhood hero; cut me some slack, people). Seriously, he was Gold Glove-worthy (as are Beltre, Crede, and Chavez), and while he was streaky, his final numbers at the plate are perfectly acceptable. I have a slight concern that he'll have a hard time repeating this output next season, but if the Sox keep Manny and get a legit No. 5 hitter, he won't be asked to do so much.

Alex Cora .238-1-18: He's bright, versatile, and despite a punchless offensive season, he's exactly what you want in a utility infielder. Keep him, I say.

Dustin Pedroia .191-2-7: Some see him as David Eckstein. Others as a young Jody Reed. So far, all I've seen is Brett Abernathy.

Carlos Pena .273-1-3: The Sox should have brought him in instead of J.T. Snow in the first place.

OUTFIELDERS
Manny Ramirez: .321-35-102: I plan on getting into the Manny Situation more in a future episode, so for now I'll leave it at this: If, during one of his patented midsummer tears next season for the Mets or Angels or whichever team the Sox award him to over the winter, some smug dinkus of a Boston sportscaster has the nerve to say, "Why can't we get players like that?" after spending the better part of six seasons trying to drive Manny away, well, I might just have to drive into Boston just to pull said sportscaster's hair plugs out with my bare hands.

Coco Crisp .264-8-36: So at least we know the truth: He was never healthy. I remember how wowed I was by him in spring training and during his pre-injury debut against the Rangers - he was electric - and despite the belief that he's no leadoff hitter, I hope he gets a second season to show his stuff in Boston. He deserves that much.

Trot Nixon .268-8-52: All right . . . I'll miss him. A little. If only for sentimentality's sake. His tenure with the Sox dates back to my college years, he did bust his ass and try to do the right thing, and as Roger Clemens and Rich Harden can attest, he had his moments in the clutch through the years. And of course, he was One of The 25, delivering the game-breaking hit in the World Series clincher. But the truth is that he's crumbled into an injury prone, underproductive, overpaid over-30 albatross, just the kind of player the Sox should be trying to distance themselves from. Trot was the Mike Greenwell of his era, albeit with an extra branch or two on the family tree, and like Greenie before him, his popularity outweighed his productivity near the end. It's time to tip the dirty hat and say goodbye.

Wily Mo Pena .301-11-42: It pains me to say this, because I was in agreement with the Arroyo deal and enjoyed watching Pena's occasional moonshots, but . . . I hope they trade him in the offseason. I have major doubts that he's ever going to develop the plate discipline and pitch-recognition skills to be a consistent hitter; he often looks as if he's made up his mind to swing before the pitch is delivered. And defensively, he reminds me of Kevin Mitchell circa '96, which means I cover my eyes, hope for the best, and usually witness the worst when the ball is hit his way.

Gabe Kapler .254-2-12: I hope he's still reporting to work at Fenway next season - as Eck's backup analyst on the pre- and post-game shows.

David Murphy .227-1-2: Eh. I can live with him as a fourth outfielder, but I'm skeptical that he'll develop enough power to justify a regular role for a playoff contender.

Eric Hinske .288-1-5: This year's version of Butch Huskey, an alleged slugger picked up late in the season who makes a habit of whiffing in crucial situations. But as a patient switch-hitter who historically mashes righties, he should be a useful stick off the bench next season.

STARTING PITCHERS
Curt Schilling 15-7, 3,97 ERA: He wasn't, as the song goes, as good as he once was, going six weeks without a win and developing a maddening habit of letting small leads slip away in the middle innings. But in the context of his lost 2005 season, 15 wins is a hell of a comeback.

Josh Beckett 16-11, 5.01: Greg Maddux once said the more trouble he is in, the slower he pitches, meaning he uses the hitters' aggressiveness against them. Something tells me Boston's version of Nuke LaLoosh would grunt and call Maddux a *&*%* for believing in that that philosophy. He needs to grow up and learn to pitch rather than throw, or the names Anibal Sanchez and Hanley Ramirez could haunt the Red Sox front office honchos the way Derek Lowe and Varitek did Woody Woodward.

Tim Wakefield 7-11, 4.63: The Sox dearly missed his bullpen-saving ability to eat multiple innings at a 4-something ERA clip, but now that he's 40 and coming off his first injury in years, it's time to start thinking about him as a fifth starter rather than as a third or fourth.

Julian Tavarez 5-4, 4.47: If the Sox were beginning the playoffs this week, he'd likely be your No. 3 starter. Chew on that for a moment.

Matt Clement 5-5, 6.61: I can't help but remember Gammons floating a notion at around this point last season that the Sox and Dodgers should consider a Clement for D-Lowe swap. How I wish they had.

Jon Lester 7-2, 4.76: We're all rooting for a victory more important than any he'll ever achieve on the ballfield. Get well, kid.

Jonathan Papelbon 4-2, 0.92, 35 saves: The Sox's collapse and his season-ending shoulder scare have cost Papelbon some of the plaudits he deserves for his historically dominant rookie season, and that's too bad, because he may have been the team's MVP in the first half. While he was virtually unhittable as a closer, at least until he grew weary late in the season, I'm glad the Sox are moving him to the rotation, if only because I'm a believer that it's wiser to use your best pitcher for 200 innings rather than 60. It will likely keep his arm in better condition, too. Prediction: Papelbon wins 17 games next season and is a better starter than any of the Zitos and Schmidts available as a free agent over the winter.

RELIEF PITCHERS
Keith Foulke 3-1, 4.35: Every season, there are always a few seemingly washed-up relievers who, for a variety of reasons, enjoy a major career rejuvenation. (Think: Wickman, Bob, and Jones, Todd.) I'm betting on Foulke to be one of those guys next season. I want him back.

Mike Timlin 6-6, 4..36: When you're 40 and you've pissed away the second half of the season getting lit up by the likes of Kevin Millar, it's time to start plannin' some possum huntin' expeditions for the summer months, if you get my drift.

Manny Delcarmen 2-0, 5.06: Everyone roots for the local boy to make good, but his command is too inconsistent and his fastball is too straight for Hyde Park's own to be considered anything more than a middle reliever at this point.

Craig Hansen 2-2, 6.63: Questions, I've got some questions: Where's the filthy slider that he supposedly used to torment the Big East? Have the Sox mishandled him to the point he's lost his stuff and his confidence? Is he familiar with the work of Calvin Schiraldi? He should start next season in Pawtucket with no pressure and no expectations, and work from there.

Javier Lopez: 1-0, 2.70: He doesn't throw enough strikes, and a lefty specialist who comes in and walks his lone batter is a useless as a Giambi without a chemistry set.

Kyle Snyder 4-5, 6.56: If only he hadn't sacrificed 7 miles per hour on his fastball to the blade of Dr. Andrews' knife. You can see why he was such a highly regarded prospect with Kansas City - his curveball is a legitimate out pitch, and his tailing changeup gives him decent secondary stuff - but unless he gets better command or regains a few m.p.h on the heater, he's nothing but an Arroyo wannabe.

Devern Hansack 1-1, 2.70: Well, that No-Hitter-With-An-Asterisk was certainly a hell of an audition for some role next season. Not only am I pulling for him, but having watched him pitch the Sea Dogs to the Eastern League title, I can say with a certain degree of confidence that he's got better stuff, command, and composure than quite a few established big league pitchers.

Kason Gabbard 1-3, 3.51: Another slopballing lefty who prays to the altar of Jamie Moyer. And yet . . . Jerry Remy is on record as being impressed with Gabbard, and he did pitch very well more often than not. I'm naturally skeptical of a guy who struggled for almost two full seasons in Double A, but he showed enough to earn a second job interview next spring.

OTHER SUSPECTS RUMORED TO BE PITCHERS
Mike Burns: Man, did the Pats show us something today or what? The whole Shutting Down An Offensive Juggernaut With a Shorthanded Defense was straight out of Belichick's 2003 championship blueprint, Maroney is an absolute beast, and Brady did his part to silence the shrill sky-is-falling nonsense from the Felgers of the world. Suddenly, I'm feeling very good about this team . . . and if you think I'm writing this because I wouldn't know Mike Burns if he ran off with my wife, you'd be correct.

Bryan Corey: He pitched well once earlier this season against the Sox while with Texas. So at least I can say I saw him pitch well once.

Kevin Jarvis: He didn't belong in the major leagues five years ago.

Lenny DiNardo: I'm beginning to think he has a lifetime contract as the 12th man on the staff. He's shown me nothing, and he has a World Series ring and some great tales as Bronson Arroyo's wingman to show for it.

Craig Breslow: He's better than Lopez. Then again, I think Tony Fossas would be an upgrade on both of them.

Thanks for nothin', Jason Johnson . . .

. . . and five other semi-coherent thoughts from the first of five . . .

1) Well, that went about according to plan. Johnson pitched adequately enough for man who really doesn't belong on a big-league mound anymore, the Sox bullpen was predictably atrocious in his stead, and Chien-Ming Wang (who reminds me of D-Lowe without the issues; he's actually an underrated Yankee) weaseled his way out of trouble time and again. The Yankees had a tremendous pitching advantage in this game, and it would have been a true coup for the Sox to steal it. They didn't. We move on. Get 'em in Game 2. (Doesn't it freak you out when I'm all reasonable in the face of disaster? For the record, I was convinced a decent fire extinguisher would have limited the Hindenburg to minor smoke damage.)

2) Sure, his silly error opened the late-inning floodgates, but I have no problem reiterating this belief regarding Mike Lowell: With the bases loaded, two outs, and the Sox hanging on by a run in Game 7 of the World Series, there is no player in recent history I'd rather see have the ball hit his way . . . with the possible exception of the guy to his left, of course.

3) Got this email from a former Monitor colleague before Eric Hinske's three-double debut. I thought the deal was a shrewd one, but I didn't quite realize how useful Hinske might be until reading this:

I was amazed at the underwhelming response (regarding this trade) this morning. Doesn't anyone know that this guy's GOOD. Hinske's slugging and OPS numbers are both among the top 35 in the American League (200-plus at bats). The only Red Sox ahead of him are three fellows named Ortiz, Ramirez, and Wily Mo. And Hinske's power numbers are better than Abreu's, and Hinske has more homers than Abreu in 2006 -- in half the at bats!). And that's not even considering the fact that this guy kills Yankee pitchers not named Mussina. (Guess who now is the current Red Sox player with the best lifetime average against that skinny reliever who wears #42.) Since Hinske plays four positions, he can give he can give Youk, Lowell, Wily Mo, Coco (Wily Mo would move to center) and maybe even Manny a break once a week without hurting the offense. Thank you J.P. Ricciardi. (And thank you for picking up half the Hinske tab for 2007.)

One game in, gotta say I agree with every word.

4) Say what you will about the 'EEI radio hosts straining themselves to pat each other on the back, but no one can dispute the Jimmy Fund is the worthiest of causes, and so I will give Ordway and the rest a tip of the cap for all they do on this noble day. Even a black-hearted cynic like me finds his allergies acting up when hearing the stories of some of these uncommonly courageous children, and as a dad myself, it saddens me to even imagine the heartbreak these kids' parents must feel. Of course, it can be rather humorous to hear Joe and Jerry attempt to interview a child during his or her visit to the radio broadcast booth. Castiglione seems at a loss without being able to read the kid's career stats out of a media guide, while Trupiano never fails to remind me of Peter Graves in Airplane when the kid visits the cockpit: "So, Joey, do you like gladiator movies? . . . ever seen a grown man naked? . . . wouldn't you say Albert Pujols is ruggedly handsome, even chiseled? . . . "

5) You know it's a big game when NESN hauls Jack Welch out of his million-threadcount mothballs for the occasion. Oh, sure, he may look like the two grumpy coots in the balcony on the Muppets, but trust me and Tom Werner, inside that shriveled noggin, he's got the baseball insight of Gammons multiplied by the Eck. I mean, why else would NESN have him on? I'll say this much in seriousness: He's better be forking over at least a million bucks to the Jimmy Fund for the privilege of pretending he's a diehard/expert on a day like today.