Sam I am

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free throwaway lines for you . . .



1. Two quick thoughts about the Celtics while I worry that someone (Denver? Dallas>) will ruin the master plan by snatching up Sam Cassell on waivers:

• Call it the luck of the Irish, I suppose, but how fortunate are the Celtics that the two pieces they most need to pursue a championship - a veteran big man who can rebound and play D, and a veteran guard to run the offense and knock down a big jumper or two - are both available as free agents with 25 or so games remaining in the season?

• I'm actually more excited about getting Brown than Cassell, if only because Kendrick Perkins has been extra sluggish lately (one rebound against Cleveland the other night). If Perk isn't rebounding and hustling on defense, there's really no reason for him to be on the floor. Truth be told, I'd rather see undersized but remarkably efficient Leon Powe out there over him in most situations.

2. By the way, remind me to cross Marty Burns of CNNsi.com off my reading list. Here's what he wrote recently about the possibility of Antoine Walker getting bought out by the Timberwolves:

If Minnesota did buy out Walker, and he cleared waivers, he would be free to sign with any team (he must be waived by March 1 to be eligible to play for another team in the postseason). The Celtics, Rockets, Warriors and Nuggets are among the clubs that might be interested in his services.

Now, I'm not questioning Mr. Burns's credentials or credibility, and he did couch his suggestion with the word "might," but let's put it this way: There's a better chance Danny Ainge names himself and Doc Rivers the starting backcourt than there is of him even considering adding Hurricane 'Toine to this team.

3. Sure, you mock Tony La Russa and his mighty big brain right now after hearing about his latest look-how-smart-I-am scheme, but let's hear what you have to say when Matt Clement and Joel Pineiro combine to bat .320 with 102 RBIs from the No. 8 hole this season.

4. Can't help but have kind of a what-might-have-been vibe to Rosevelt Colvin's departure from the Pats. He ended up being a steady and dependable player during his five seasons here - don't tell me you haven't wondered if he might have made a difference against the Giants - but it's fair to say he was never again the dynamic speed rusher he was in Chicago after suffering that devastating hip injury in Week 2 of the '03 season. It's to his credit that he somewhat reinvented himself after that injury, becoming a better all-around defender. He was a fine player and seemed like a class act, and I wish him well.

5. Really curious what motivated Jose Canseco, baseball's Typhoid Mary of steroids, to testify under oath that Roger Clemens wasn't at his infamous pool party. It's possible that Canseco's chicken nugget of a brain doesn't have enough storage space left to retain 10-year-old memories. But given that Canseco reportedly is hard up for cash (ask Magglio Ordonez), one can't help but wonder if there's some sort of devious deal at play here. I wouldn't put such a thing past either one of them.

6. I get the sense Joe Maddon wants the Rays to take a chance on Barry Bonds, and why not? Provided he's still taking the right mix of vitamins, the swollen tick of a slugger still has enough left to anchor a Tampa Bay lineup that has a chance to be one of the best in the AL. Besides, after dealing with the clinically insane Elijah Dukes and raging jerk Delmon Young last season, Maddon is well-equipped to deal with Bonds's unique brand of narcissism.

7. Maybe Eagles superfan Arlen Spector can explain it to me, but I don't quite understand why Philadelphia thinks Asante Samuel is a huge upgrade over Lito Sheppard, especially when you factor in the ridiculously fat contract Samuel is going to command. I like Samuel a lot and appreciate that he's been a key to the Patriots defense the past few seasons, but he's not a quote-unquote "shutdown corner." He's smart, reads quarterbacks well, gambles a lot, has excellent hands (with one $(%*#$ exception), and makes more big plays than he allows. But all things considered, he's not that much better than Sheppard, a two-time Pro Bowler, and if the Patriots somehow end up with him as Samuel's replacement, I'll consider it a very shrewd tradeoff by Patriots management.

8. It always make me feel a little older when a player I've enjoyed and appreciated for so many years calls it a career, so in that sense I'm glad Tedy Bruschi is returning to the Patriots; it really wouldn't be quite the same without ol' No. 54 around. That said, here's hoping his role is reduced next season - greatly. Bruschi has obviously lost a step or two the past few seasons - to be honest, it looked to me like Junior Seau has more gas left in the tank - and it is imperative that some how, some way, the Patriots get younger at linebacker next season. I'm glad Bruschi is still here. I just hope they're not heavily relying on him.

9. We know all about Manny's eight-digit salary, but who knew he has a pair of six-digit feet?

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



Nope, no relation to Manny.

Questions we'd have asked the Texas Con Man while he was under oath

Do you realize that everyone with a shred of common sense in these chambers realizes you are completely full of b.s., to the point that even the comatose rodent nesting atop Rusty Hardin's head is rolling its eyes?

Is "K" the only letter in the alphabet you can identify?

Whenever you joined a team as a free agent, it was never because "the guys" begged you relentlessly, or because you respected Mr. Torre, or because you didn't want to disappoint Mr. Steinbrenner, or because you desired to win a championship, or because you had a fondness for a particular city, or because you wanted to be closer to your family, but because that particular team happened to be the one throwing the biggest stinkin' piles of loot your way, was it not?

You really did think Toronto borders Texas, didn't ya, you big dummy?

Back when you were Best Friends Forever, did you or Mr. Pettitte ever utter the phrase, "Why can't I quit you?"

Do you have to suppress a guffaw when you hear the phrase "injected Debbie in the buttocks in the bedroom"?

Do you like gladiator movies?

C'mon, even you must admit the "I thought it was the ball," excuse after raging at Piazza was lame, even for a dim-witted hillbilly like you . . . agreed?

Does Debbie cry herself to sleep at night listening to "Stand By Your Man"?

Do you realize that if Debbie really did load up on HGH, there's a decent chance she is seriously going to kick your bloated #*# when you get home?

So, whatcha getting Debbie for Valentine's Day? Perhaps Whitman's offers an injectable sampler?


Do you realize this man will probably be whupping you at shuffleboard when you're both 80 years old?

At what point will you plan on breaking out your tried-and-true escape plan from pressure situations and attempt to limp of here with a "tweaked" hamstring?

Are you terrified that your future fellow prisoners will someday chant, "Where is ROG-AH?! In the SHOW-AH!!"?

Has it dawned on you how much Dan Duquette must be enjoying this?

Who wrote your opening statement, Miss Teen South Carolina? (Hat tip: The Big Lead. Dammit, they beat me to it.)

Do you think the Post will go with the "Oaf Under Oath!" headline tomorrow, or will it be the Daily News?

Does it make you feel better that prisons and your beloved University of Texas essentially have the same uniform colors?

Do you consider Suzyn Waldman another satisfied customer?

Do you really expect us to believe Mr. Pettitte, Mr. McNamee, Mr. Knoblauch, and indirectly, the honorable former senator Mitchell, are being dishonest here, while you, a man with a long history of being a compulsive and transparent liar, is telling the truth?

Do you really believe all these geezers in Congress were born yesterday?

And just one more, Mr. Clemens. While we're here, why not come clean on your longest-running lie: You asked out, didn't you?

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As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:


I don't know about you, but Pettitte gets a standing ovation from me the next time he pitches at Fenway. He's my new favorite Yankee.

The news of the day

I'm guess I'm with the consensus on the Shaq deal: It's a desperate and somewhat sad act by the Suns, who, by trading versatile Shawn Marion and the shell casing of Marcus Banks to the Heat for the Big Decrepit, are basically admitting that their fun and appealing run-run-run style of play won't cut it when a championship is the mission. At this point, Shaq is the anti-Sun - his lift is gone, he can't rebound, he's a lumbering hacker on defense, and running the floor wasn't exactly a priority when he was in his prime. I do understand Phoenix feels like they need a big guy to deal with Tim Duncan in the postseason, and this is probably in part a reactionary move to a recent loss to the Spurs as well as the Lakers' acquisition of Pau Gasol. But it's such a wrong move, and unless Marion, who is perpetually unhappy with his contract, had become too much of nuisance behind the scenes, I just can't see Mike D'Antoni signing off on this. In '07 Seconds or Less, Jack McCallum's season inside with the '05-'06 Suns, D'Antoni, a playing and coaching legend in the free-flowing Italian League, he's almost defiant in his belief that a fast-break, offensive-oriented, aesthetically pleasing system can win a championship in today's grind-it-out NBA. And now he brings in the ultimate half-court player in Shaq? It just doesn't make sense.

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Upon hearing the news that Brian McNamee turned over needles, syringes, used gauzed pads, and heaven knows what else to Congress as proof that he injected Roger Clemens with performance-enhancing drugs, my first reaction was this: He kept that stuff? For eight years? Disgusting. But then I got to thinking about it, and I realized the obvious: Either McNamee held on to it because he has his own bizarro Hall of Fame exhibit, or he suspected that if it ever came out that the Rocket was fueled by 'roids, Clemens would lie his needle-marked a-- off about it, even if it meant destroying McNamee's life in the process. Hey, you can't say he didn't know his client. I doubt even the actual physical proof will convince Clemens, a serial b.s. artist, to come clean about his usage - he'll still probably claim he thought it was B-12, duh-huh, duh-huh, even if his own fingerprints are still on one of the vials. At the rate he's going, he's going to keep lying until he's sharing a 15x18 cell with a frisky Hell's Angel named Bubba, which brings me to one more point about McNamee: It's very curious that he waited until after Clemens answered questions under oath before he provided the smoking gun, or in this case, syringe. If I were the cynical sort, I'd almost wonder if McNamee wants Clemens to go to jail. Either way, it's apparent this intriguing mess of a story couldn't happen to two better guys.

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If I put together a list of Our Favorite Things here at TATB, the American version of "The Office" and the Fire Joe Morgan blog might come in 1-2, barely edging out raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. So we found it pretty cool when the revelation came today that the pseudonymed mastermind behind the funniest and most well-written baseball blog around is none other than Michael Schur, better known to fans of "The Office" as world-class beet farmer Cousin Mose Schrute. Schur, a Harvard grad and Sox fan who writes under the name "Ken Tremendous" for the FJM, is also one of the main writers for "The Office" - which means he's pretty much living my dream life, other than the fact that Regis Philbin is his father-in-law. Seriously, I often find myself wishing I could write as well as "Tremendous" when I read FJM, so it's kind of nice to find out that he's an accomplished pro, someone I admired already, and not just a random desk jockey for Fremulon Insurance.

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As for today's Completely Random Basketball Card:


With all of this talk about Shaq's startling physical regression, I couldn't help but be reminded of Artis Gilmore, whom you might recall was tagged "Rigor Artis" by the Globe's Peter May during his one fossilized season in Boston. It's either one of the funniest or meanest nicknames of all time, depending upon your sense of humor. I think you know where I stand.

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No, we haven't forgetten about the Pats, unfortunately. We're slowly coming to grips with what happened, though I have to admit I still haven't watched ESPN or seen a single highlight from the game. We'll be back with the autopsy in the next day or two. Friggin' Tyree . . .

Mission statement

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free half-formed thoughts for you . . .


1. I know we're supposed to be focusing on football at this hour, but I can't help getting all jacked and pumped for baseball season when I read that Manny Ramirez has been working out at the legendary Athletes Performance Institute in Arizona for the better part of the winter. You know what? Screw that oh-no-he's-beginning-his-decline stuff. Manny's ticked, he's focused, he's probably a little embarrassed, and he's coming back, big-time. I'm thinking .320-36-133, conservatively.

2. Okay, one more Sox item before we swing over to the Pats: Geffner's gone! GEFFNER'S GONE!!! WHEEEEE-HOOOOOOOO!!! BREAK OUT THE ZIMA, SOX GAMES ARE LISTENABLE AGAIN! (Deep breath. Fist pump! Okay, calm. YESSS! Calm. Deep breath.) Beyond the fact that even Joe Castiglione must be thrilled that his media guide-spewing, ridiculously unqualified sidekick is departing for a job with the Marlins, it's curious that another perceived underling/lackey of Larry Lucchino is out the door, not long after Dr. Charles took his patented schmaltz to Los Angeles. Hmmm. Almost makes you think Theo's running the whole show now, doesn't it?

3. Here's a fun hypothetical for you: What devious scheme do you think Bill Belichick would come up with to stop - or should I say attempt to stop - this Patriots' offense? Obviously, his credentials need no rehash here, but it's still worth noting that he's the mastermind who thwarted both the K-Gun Bills and the Greatest Show on Turf Rams, two of the most prolific offenses of all time. Of course, the rules were different then - his defenses could knock the living snot out of the receivers, which brings us to a great point in this Washington Post article sent along by Official TATB Antagonist Donovan Burba. Namely, that the Patriots have taken advantage of a rule change that Bill Polian and the nefarious competition committee thought would ruin them:

"When the NFL rule-makers cracked down four years ago on clutching-and-grabbing tactics by defensive players to try to open up the passing game, the move widely was viewed as a response to the rugged way in which the New England Patriots had played defense on their way to their first two Super Bowl titles.

"That 2004 directive by the league's competition committee changed the way the game is played, perhaps forever. It has led to a rewriting of the record book. And, oddly enough, it set the stage for the Patriots to become arguably the most dominant team in league history this season as they chase an unbeaten season and their fourth Super Bowl championship with an offense orchestrated by Coach Bill Belichick and quarterback Tom Brady.

"The very rule once thought to be more detrimental to the Patriots than to any other NFL club has become a crucial asset, yet another example of how the franchise has become a dynasty because Belichick and his front office are more adaptable than anyone else in the league."

If that isn't delicious irony, I don't know what is. Somewhere, Polian just punted his hairless cat, slapped his manservant, then fired his glass of scotch against the wall.

4. Just when I was beginning to wonder if Ray Allen was careening headlong into that Over-32 wall that seems to affect virtually every star shooting guard not named Jordan or Miller, he goes out and delivers a vintage 35-point performance against a very impressive Portland Trail Blazers team. So for the moment I'm convinced that Mr. Shuttlesworth is still capable of a major star turn when the moment calls for it, provided Doc Rivers has the common sense to give him the necessary rest the next few months. It would also be swell if Danny Ainge could find a suitable backup point guard so Allen doesn't have to expend energy with additional ballhandling duties. He's a shooter, still. Let that be his focus.

5. Let's put it this way: If Roger Clemens goes before Congress willingly, I'll eat his lawyer's hairpiece. In the biggest moments, he's always shriveled and tried to find the coward's way out. Why should that change now? I fully expect that if he does end up having to testify, he'll pull out his old standby and try to limp out of the proceedings halfway through with the trusty "tweaked" groin excuse. Desperate man, desperate measures. (And if you haven't seen this yet, Esquire absolutely destroys him with this point-by-point list of his all-time scumbag transgressions, appropriately titled, "The Wonderful, Despicable Life of Roger Clemens." You know I loved it.

6. Nice of Jason Garrett to let Wade Phillips stick around on his staff in Dallas, isn't it? Phillips doesn't strike me as the sharpest tool in the shed - I believe the past phrase I used to describe his coaching style was "Pete Carroll with man-boobs," and I'm sticking with it - but even he has to know he's a dead-man walking in Dallas. No one's admitting it, but Jerry Jones simply had to promise Garrett one of two things to get him to turn down head coaching gigs in Baltimore and Atlanta to stay as the Cowboys' offensive coordinator: That he'd be Phillips's eventual successor as head coach - and, shhh, don't tell Wade, but sooner rather than later - or that he'd could take Jessica Simpson to Cabo and give her the Romo treatment for the week. Probably the former, I suppose.

7. The Baltimore Orioles haven't done a whole hell of a lot right in recent seasons, but shipping Miguel Tejada to the Houston Astros the day before the Mitchell Report was made public was inspired. That's just the kind of sneaky I like.

8. Even though the dynamics weren't quite right this season, I'm still going through serious "The Office" withdrawal. Can't imagine there's any chance the season can be salvaged given how long the writers' strike is expected to last.

9. I was as annoyed by Rodney Harrison's unnecessary penalties against the Jaguars as anyone, but as far as I'm concerned he can keep on spearing that floppy-armed motormouth Philip Rivers until he has one of his bloody ribs dangling from his facemask. And that goes double if Rivers isn't actually playing in the game.

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


I mentioned my boyhood adulation of J.J. and the rest of the Air Coryell Chargers before last year's San Diego-New England playoff showdown, and so the rules of superstition and jinxes dictate we mention them again this time around. Hey, at least I'm not tempting fate by comparing the Pats to the '86 Celts before they actually win the damn thing like some people. Sheesh.

Free and easy (down the road)

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free half-formed thoughts for you . . .


1. While the Merril Hoge's of the world continue to spew their concussed nonsense about some "blueprint" to beat the Pats, I have to say that I'm actually more confident that they're going to run the table than I have been all season. Here's why: 1) Laurence Maroney is running with more determination and ferocity than I can recall seeing since the beginning of his rookie season. 2) Richard Seymour looks fully healthy for the first time this season, Tedy Bruschi is suddenly rejuvenated and running around like a madman again, and long-lost Eugene Wilson appears to be regaining his usefulness, meaning that their defense is peaking at the perfect time. 3) I have complete faith that once the postseason arrives and every throw matters again, Tom Brady will stop trying to play pitch-and-catch with Randy Moss even when No. 81 is quintuple covered, and the entire passing offense will again become viciously efficient and prolific.

2. A subtlety smart move the Patriots made last season: signing Jabar Gaffney to a two-year contract after he got cut by the Eagles. One other thing about TATB's new football binky: in 2005 with the Texans, he caught 55 passes for 492 yards . . . resulting in a puny 8.9 average. I can't think of a receiver ever having a lower YPC during a productive season. I suppose that's what you'd call the David Carr Effect.

3. Jon Beason, the Miami linebacker we thought the Patriots would take in the first round, is third in the NFL in tackles (130) in his rookie season with Carolina. Another rookie who was long gone before the Pats picked - San Francisco dynamo Patrick Willis - leads the league with 162 tackles, and Jets freshman David Harris is tied for 10th (115). I'm not going to pretend I know how well any of these players would fit the Patriots' system, but from my uneducated perspective it sure looks like the past draft would have been a fine time to take that young linebacker they're going to need in the coming seasons.

4. The Celtics' three losses are a two-point loss at Orlando, a five-point overtime loss at Cleveland, and two-point loss to Detroit - three very winnable games. I'm not saying they would be 26-0 - there are certainly a couple they have won that they could have lost - but they're a lot closer to perfection that most of us realize.

5. The Miami Heat is 8-21, the worst record in the Eastern Conference. Pat Riley, never one to stick it out at the expense of his career winning percentage, should be resigning from "exhaustion" any day now.

6. I hope Dan Shaughnessy is correct in his column today and this is the year Jim Rice, the Sox' slugging superhero in my first seasons as a fan, gets the call from Cooperstown. But I just can't convince myself enough voters will change their minds on him the season to put him over the 75 percent threshold.

7. I'm skeptical that the Sox's interest in Johan Santana is 100 percent genuine as it is - I'm fairly certain they just want to see Hank the Tank cave in and give up Hughes and Kennedy - but the thing that makes me really believe they won't make this trade is the ace lefty's request for a seven-year, $140 million deal. There is simply no way Theo Epstein agrees to pay any pitcher $20 million dollars per season at age 35, let alone one who will cost a collection of fine prospects in trade and who showed subtle signs of decline at 28.

8. Wonder how baseball's version of George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley feel about each other these days. Andy Pettitte's admission that he tried HGH was basically an indictment of Roger Clemens, his longtime teammate and workout buddy. Pettitte, to his credit, took the honest way out. Clemens called his lawyers, sought out Steinbrenner crony Mike Wallace to interview him, and issued a string of non-denial denials. Pretty much what you'd expect from both of them, actually.

9. Just when I start wondering if karma is nothing but a convoluted way for people to convince themselves that the cruel injustices of the world will eventually be righted, Clemens's career ends with him hobbling off the mound in a losing cause, then has his reputation and baseball resume irreparably damaged by his very own cheatin' heart. And then, oddly enough, I find myself a believer in such a concept again.

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


Because sometimes, it really is random.

I don't like the drugs but the drugs like me

Sifting through the Mitchell Report while apologizing to Dan Duquette for all the snide "twilight of his career" jokes through the years. I hope the Duke is savoring his hour of redemption . . .

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While all of this makes for juicy (no pun intended, honest) gossip and compelling reading, I have a hard time getting worked up by George Mitchell's "findings"; hell, to me the most shocking developments in the report were that Nook Logan's real name is Exavier and that Roger Clemens was too a-scared to stick a needle in his bellybutton, the big sissy. Exavier - that's just some awesome naming skills by his mom. Otherwise, this thing was short on genuine revelations, and pretty damn far from complete; as far as I can tell, Mitchell's four primary sources were Kirk Radomski, the Jason Grimsley case, the BALCO scandal, and one of those online pharmacies the Feds busted. The tip of the iceberg? Hell, that's not even an ice cube. Anyone with clear eyes and more than a shred of common sense realized seasons ago that the use of performance enhancing drugs in major league baseball was approaching epidemic proportions. (To no one's surprise, Bud Selig, who wore his familiar look of permanent constipation yesterday, was not among those with a clue.) And while the names Clemens and Pettitte and Tejada were splashed all over the news yesterday, their involvement in PEDs really wasn't news, per se. It was merely a confirmation of accusations, rumors, and innuendo we've all heard before about those particular players. What was interesting was the amount of never-weres and who's-hes? on this list. Phil Hiatt and Adam Piatt? (I always thought they were the same guy.) Bart Miadich? (Who?) Adam Riggs? (And you are?) In a way, I feel for these guys, the anonymous minor league lifers who tried the stuff out of desperation to secure a big league job and the life-altering riches than can accompany it; juxtaposed with another headline on ESPN yesterday - AROD, YANKEES FINALIZE $275M DEAL - the by-any-means-necessary approach makes all the sense in the world. I'm not saying it's right. But I'm not saying I wouldn't have done it myself, either, if my dream was so close and yet so far.

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I think I've made my fanboy admiration for Peter Gammons plainly obvious here during the three years this blog has existed. I've often said that I am in the business in large part because of the happiness his coverage of the Red Sox had on me as a kid, and to have him become a friend of this site is one of the unexpected bonuses of this gig. So it's . . .. disappointing to see him acting as a blatant and blind apologist for the players. Yesterday, in an apparent attempt to puncture holes in Mitchell's credibility in any manner possible, he actually said he expects there will a be a lot of defamation lawsuits. C'mon now, Commish. You know how many defamation lawsuits there will be? Just as many as there were after Rafael Palmeiro threatened one when he was caught: Zero. Sadly, Gammons and a number of his peers put a higher priority on protecting their own interests, namely a level of access granted only to the true insiders, than they did on protecting the greater good of the game. I put Tim "See No Needle, Hear No Needle" Kurkjian in the same category, too, and even today, in a column that was typically entertaining and balanced, Jayson Stark gave the benefit of the doubt to players who do not deserve it. Only Buster Olney, who admitted to his embarrassment over his profession's culpability in this a long time ago, seems concerned about maintaining journalistic integrity. Which brings me to their employer. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that ESPN barely acknowledged its uncomfortable proximity to several aspects of this story - John Kruk was a teammate of Lenny Dykstra on the notorious '93 Phillies, Steve Phillips was the Mets' freakin' GM when Radomski was apparently running a CVS pharmacy out of the clubhouse, and "Baseball Tonight" analyst Fernando Vina was actually named in the damn thing. I'll say this for the so-called Worldwide Leader: they are incredibly adept at covering a story and covering their own asses at the same time.

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You know Theo Epstein just loves having his internal memos available for public consumption, and I'm sure by now you know to what I'm referencing: the documentation about the Sox's suspicions regarding Eric Gagné's pharmaceutical habits. Here's how it appeared in the report:

"When the Boston Red Sox were considering acquiring Gagné, a Red Sox official made specific inquiries about Gagné’s possible use of steroids. In a November 1, 2006 email to a Red Sox scout, general manager Theo Epstein asked, “Have you done any digging on Gagne? I know the Dodgers think he was a steroid guy. Maybe so. What do you hear on his medical?”

"The scout, Mark Delpiano, responded, Some digging on Gagné and steroids IS the issue. Has had a checkered medical past throughout career including minor leagues. Lacks the poise and commitment to stay healthy, maintain body and re invent self. What made him a tenacious closer was the max effort plus stuff . . . Mentality without the plus weapons and without steroid help probably creates a large risk in bounce back durability and ability to throw average while allowing the changeup to play as it once did . . . Personally, durability (or lack of) will follow Gagné."

Gagné was atop anyone's list of suspects - he went from a doughy fifth starter type to a pumped-and-jacked terror of a closer overnight, then suffered the requisite ligament, tendon, and back injuries often associated with PEDs - and it's funny how the Sox scout basically attributes all of his success to steroid use. Forget knowing what we know now about Gagné. Knowing what they knew then, why did they ever trade for him? And how much buyer's remorse is Doug Melvin having at the moment?

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Brendan Donnelly might be slightly embarrassed about this whole thing, I suppose, but I can't imagine he will ever have a moment of real regret. Think about it. Here's a guy who bounced around every conceivable minor league for 10 seasons, pitching in such whistlestops as Chattanooga, Nashua, Altoona, and Winston-Salem, without ever getting a shot at the big leagues other than an ill-considered stint on a replacement roster during the '94 strike. But out of nowhere, at age 31, he gets called up to the Angels in '02 and puts up a 2.17 ERA for the world champs, then the next season posts an astounding 1.58 ERA in 63 games. Hmmm. It's pretty clear he did something around that time that dramatically altered the course of his career, a career, we should mention, that has netted him $3,470,000 as a big leaguer. Something tells me the pay wasn't quite so good as an Arkansas Traveler. It's fair to say Donnelly never would have established himself as a major leaguer had he not decided to get some chemical assistance.

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I have a newfound respect for Frank Thomas, the only active player other than the disgraced Jason Giambi who was willing to speak to Mitchell. I had always heard that the Big Hurt, such a physical freak of nature that the story goes he was 6-foot-2 and 225 pounds as a fetus, was furious that his vast accomplishments as a hitter were being overshadowed by the dubious feats of so many 'roided-up peers (he actually lost the '00 MVP to Giambi), and I'm impressed that he had the guts to speak his piece despite pressure from the players' union to give Mitchell the silent treatment. (Full disclosure: Before we knew the identity of the player who talked to Mitchell, I pretty much assumed it was Curt Schilling, the premise being that he's incapable of keeping his opinion to himself on any subject.)

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Since so many words on baseball's preeminent oaf have been spent already, I'm simply going to list a few quick thoughts on the disgraced Mr. Clemens here:

1. Mitchell did nothing but give me 100 percent confirmation what I was 99 percent sure of since, oh, 1998. Even elite athletes rarely improve their performance in the 30s, and they never continuously improve their performance from year to year. Clemens's statistics from the last decade are nothing but a numerical compilation of lies.

2. Clemens belongs in Cooperstown, as does Barry Bonds, simply because I feel they were both locks before they apparently began taking PEDs. I know it's a flawed argument, but I don't think there's any other logical way to look at it at this point. On their plaques, however, the word "steroids" should be prominent, and their heads should be twice the size as those on any other plaques.

3. Clemens is so compulsively dishonest I don't think he knows what the truth is half the time. I don't take steroids . . . it's not about the money . . . I thought it was the baseball . . . Will McDonough had it right all along: he's The Texas Con Man. What a world-class fraud.

4. Andy Pettitte is one Yankee I've always respected, but as the admirably warped geniuses at Fire Joe Morgan are reveling in pointing out, he's just as big a phony as his buddy Roger. Pettitte was one of several members of the dynastic Yankees who was named in the report, and will some will say that taints their legacy (man, has that phrase become too familiar), I'm reluctant to believe that there were more juicers in the Bronx then there were in the clubhouses at, say, Camden Yards or Fenway Park. It just happens to be that the Yankees players were the ones who have been busted so far, due mostly to the fact that Jason Grimsley was a teammate. To put it another way - save for El Guapo, I believed every name on that erroneous list that was floating around the internet yesterday before the report was revealed, and I don't think that makes me gullible, but rather realistic.

5. Suzyn must be devasted. Maybe John Sterling should bring her some Kleenex.

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Given what we now know about the era during which he was the most dominating pitcher we've ever witnessed, the accomplishments of 5-foot-11, 170-pound Pedro Jaime Martinez's accomplishments grow more impressive by the year.

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As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:



I'm not shocked that our old pal Maurice was among the users outed by Mitchell; I'm not the only one who's long held suspicions about some prominent members of the Kennedy/Canseco Sox teams, so if there was any surprise it's that Mo apparently waited until later in his career to start trying PEDs. Sadly for him, he apparently and unwittingly took the kind that increase your waist size and slow your bat speed. I always assumed it was the endless supply of chocolate glazed that did that.

Day of reckoning

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free game-used U.L. Washington toothpicks for you . . .


1. All I ask of the Mitchell Report when the juicy details are revealed today is this: Please, not Papi. And if there's no mention of Manny, well, I'd be grateful for that, too. Clemens is all yours, however.

2. Bo Jackson is the most dynamic, electrifying athlete I've ever seen, and to all you kids who think us 30-something geezers are exaggerating his exploits, all I can say is you'll never understand what you missed. But as the great Joe Posnanski reminded me recently, Herschel Walker, in his freshman year at Georgia, was a phenomenon in his own right, as breathtaking and charismatic and unstoppable as Bo at his all-too-brief peak. These two stories - this ESPN feature on Bo, and Poz's on Herschel - are delightful flashbacks, the next best thing to watching them play again.

3. Whenever I'm worried about the Patriots' chances in a particular game, they have a uncanny habit of absolutely pulverizing their opponent that week, which I suppose bodes well for this Sunday's uncivil war with the Jets. Because, well . . . I'm a little nervous about this one, particularly if the Mother Nature decides to even the playing field a little bit by dumping a foot of snow in Foxboro Sunday morning. Now, I don't think the Pats will lose, mind you, not with revenge on their minds and malice in the hearts - at this point, I wouldn't be stunned if Belichick attempted to pistol-whip the reprehensible Eric Mangini during the postgame handshake. It's just that the Jets aren't that bad, and a point-spread of 20-something strikes me as a little bit ridiculous. (And now that I've said that, call your bookies and bet the over.)

4. Very interesting timing of that Miguel Tejada trade, wouldn't you say?

5. I do miss "The Office," though I'll admit the show was . . . just a little off this season, I guess. I got the sense that the writers hadn't quite figured out how to handle the new Jim/Pam dynamic; the characters' understated longing for each other, so subtle and heartfelt through the first three seasons, always provided the balance to the over-the-top antics of Michael and Dwight. Their emotions kept the show grounded in reality. This season, with Pam and Jim the seemingly happy, boring couple, the show teetered toward the ridiculous (example: Michael driving his car into a pond) a little too often. I am confident the writers will hit their stride once their strike ends, whenever that may be. The people behind this show are too smart to let it become just another sitcom.

(As for the obligatory Official Muse of TATB, Non-Wife Division photo . . . well, I know what's expected of me. Here you go:)



(Wait! You mean there's a whole slideshow? Parade magazine, you are awesome! I'll be in my room.)

6. Before he went 0 for 4 from the field in tonight's win over the Kings, none other than Rajon Rondo had the highest field goal percentage among all guards in the NBA (.547). That's a little bit misleading, of course, considering that he rarely shoots unless it's a wide-open look or a layup, and actually, I wish he'd shoot more. Rondo's a delight to watch just for his sheer athleticism and quickness, but I wish that he's stop kicking the ball out to the perimeter so often after he blows by his defender. It's almost like he can get to the hoop at will, but he's still too unselfish after that initial move. Who knows, if he stops passing up open layups, maybe he'll get that shooting percentage even higher.

7. I don't think Jim Rice will get into the Hall of Fame this year, and if I'm being completely honest, I'm not certain he deserves to. (Check out his home/road splits sometime.) But I sincerely hope Cooperstown does call for him on this, his 14th year on the ballot. I could argue that I think he should be enshrined because he's was the American League's most feared slugger for the better part of a decade, but really, I'm crossing my fingers for him because Rice was one of my childhood heroes, and I still can't help but root for him.

8. One more reason it's too bad Harry Caray's not still around: I suspect he would really come up with some very interesting pronunciations of new Cubs outfielder Kosuke Fukudome's name.

9. While snooping around profootballreference.com the other day, I stumbled upon this almost unbelievable statistic: In 1998, the San Diego Chargers' quarterbacks - a couple of scatter-armed gems named Ryan Leaf and Craig Whelihan - combined for 10 touchdown passes and 34 interceptions. I'm not saying it was the worst QB tandem in NFL history, but I'm pretty sure watching those two on his TV every Sunday is what killed Don Coryell. Junior Seau and Rodney Harrison both played on that team. Something tells me they appreciate Tom Brady even more than most.

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


Wednesday marked the 25th anniversary of the infamous Snowplow Game. So yeah, I guess you can pinpoint the exact moment Don Shula's irrational hatred for the Patriots began.

Don't go away mad (just go away)

Just a quick redirection to this week's Fox column, which leads off with our eighth annual Happy Retirement, Roger Clemens! tribute. We think this one will stick, however, because he's definitely done for good this time . . . no, seriously, he's outta here . . . no more relaunches for the Rocket . . . gotta go watch the "K Kids" (Koby, KremeHorn, Kwitter, etc.) play ball, maybe help Debbie sell some of that crap . . . yup, time for ol' Cletus Clemens to hang up them cleats . . . hasta la vista, baby . . . that's all folks . . . Roger over and out . . . whoa, wait - whaddaya mean he filed for free agency Friday?

Oh, God. He's never leaving, is he? Please, I beg of you - don't tell Waldman.

* * *

(P.S. - Aiming to have a new column up Monday night on a certain basketball team we're all falling for, so be sure to check in again Tuesday morning. And for the record, I will eventually get that Sox wrap posted, though at the rate I'm going pitchers and catchers may be arriving at Ft. Myers by the time it happens.)

26 reasons I strongly dislike the Yankees

(Because hate is so 2003)


1. Georgie Porgie. How else would we start this list? He's the ultimate rich-man bully, a first-ballot inductee to the Blowhard Hall of Fame, and the reason the Yankees are synonymous with "Evil Empire." The turtleneck-and-blazer look kicked serious sartorial butt, however.

2. Derek Jeter's casual awareness of the camera, especially his "signature" fist pump. I'm not saying I hope he drowns in a vat of Driven, but I might do a celebratory fist-pump myself if he did.

3. Derek Jeter's uncanny knack for hitting back-breaking flare singles to right when a game is on the line . . . or, hell, his uncanny knack for crushing go-ahead three-run homers off fat 84 m.p.h. splitters from Curt Schilling. Did anyone not see that coming? (Other than Tito, that is.) Jeter, who has been a glorified singles hitter for much of the second half as he's battled various injuries, has hit six of his 11 homers this season against the Sox. Does Theo even employ advance scouts?

4. Clemens. Like you have to ask.

5. Reggie Jackson, the '70s prototype for today's preening, self-involved athletes.

6. Curtain calls for run-of-the-mill home runs. Are Yankees fans really that desperate for affirmation? Yes, I'm sure Andy Phillips heard you cheering for him. Yes, I saw him look you in the eye when he tipped his hat. Yes, I'm sure he'd be your friend if you ever met. Now, please, wipe that nacho cheese off your mustache, hike up your pants so the family of four in the row behind you doesn't have to eyeball your plumber's crack for nine innings, and sit the bleep down. Thank you. (Scary thing is, we had female Yankees fans in mind there.)

7. Brian Cashman, for screwing up a good thing for the Red Sox by realizing the Yankees' resources would be better utilized by building a farm system and paying for elite amateur talent than by signing the biggest-name free agent every winter.

8. Joe Torre, serial nose-picker.

9. A-Rod's redemption. Quick, someone show him his career postseason numbers before he starts believing he can do this in the playoffs, too.

10. Don Zimmer, the cherubic, Pedro-chargin', steel-skulled baseball lifer who contributed to several Yankee pennants, most notably 1978.

11. Jason Giambi, who continues his desperate quest for a PED that can prevent him from sweating like he's being held hostage in a sauna.

12. Wade Boggs, 1996 World Series. The only time in my life I've seen a jackass riding a horse.

13. "BER-NIE WILL-IAMS CLAP CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!!" (Dumb tradition. I will, however, concede that Yankees fans are excellent clappers. They are also quite adept at jumping jacks, rubbing their bellies while patting their heads at the same time, engulfing KFC Famous Chicken 'N' Biscuit Bowls with a spork, and drooling.)

14. Shelley "Red Sox Suck" Duncan. C'mon, what kind of name is Shelley for a dude? (I was going to make a Shelley Winters joke here but thought better of it because 1) my target demographic doesn't know her from Angela Lansbury and 2) she was actually hot in the days before electricity. So consider yourself spared.)

15. Duncan, Shane Spencer, and every other Quadruple A grunt who sold his soul for a sliver of late-summer adulation in the Bronx.

16. Johnny Damon, if only because he looks washed up against every team but the one for which he made his name.

17. Karim Garcia, a thug who looked like he could be the shorter, fatter, talentless Giambi brother. (Whoops, that was Jeremy, wasn't it?)

18. Suzyn Waldman. Did you know that the shrill shill who New York Daily News columnist Bob Raissman refers to as Georgie Girl and Ma Pinstripe was born in Newton, Mass? No wonder she got so verklempt seeing Rogah in George's box. She's a traitor, too.

19. Michael Kay, the epitome of every pompous New Yorker who basks in the Yankees' reflected glory.

20. "IT IS HIGH! . . . IT IS FAR! . . . IT IS GONE!! . . . Another A-BOMB for A-ROD!" Yup, I'm pretty sure John Sterling is actually made of cheese.

21. Graig Nettles, for cheap-shotting the Spaceman and being a world-class phony to boot.

22. Mel Hall, expelled TATB Hall of Famer.

23. Bucky . . .

24 . . . and Boone. Bite me.

25. The fact that the only way the Sox can finish the damned pinstriped vampires off is if they've first spotted them a 3-0 lead in the American League Championship Series. Seriously, it's the Red Sox inability to drive a stake through the Yankees' black hearts when they had the chance that is the reason New York will be playing meaningful games into October.

26. The sense of entitlement the Bleacher Buttafuocos get from rooting for a franchise that has won this number of championships. Man, let's just hope I don't have to increase this list by one next year.

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:


How I miss the days when the Yankees pinned their hopes on the likes of Bam Bam Meulens.

New York groove

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Nine innings 08.04.07

Playing nine innings (multi-sport edition) while feeling bad about ripping on J.D. Drew now that we know what he's going through . . .





1. Yup, apparently I'm making Kevin Garnett photo collages now. I guess it's still just surreal that perhaps the most likable NBA superstar of the last decade is on the Celtics, and I'm still savoring the whole thing, four days after the trade. It's funny, I've been trying to explain how significant this is to the lapsed Celtics fans I know, and I just keep coming back to the same point: Kevin Garnett will restore Celtic Pride. I guarantee it. He is the perfect player in the perfect place at the perfect time. He's a superstar who plays with the hunger and desperation of a 12th man. He's maniacal about winning. He's selfless, sometimes to a fault, though with Paul Pierce and Ray Allen as his wingmen, he won't always be counted on to take the last shot. He's a genuine leader who gets bonus points for once socking Wally Szczerbiak. His charisma, as those only vaguely familiar with him learned at his introductory press conference, is off the charts. He will thrive in the Boston sports atmosphere, and the city is going to adore him. There's nothing not to like about this deal, for the Celtics matter now, and if it took trading five players (including the admirable Al Jefferson and Ryan Gomes) and two draft picks to make that happen, I say it was a bargain price to pay. Of course there's no way the Celtics should be getting 9-1 odds to win the championship, and of course they need to build some semblance of a bench before they can even be considered a contender. But you've heard the the buzzword we've been throwing around the last few days - "relevance" - and no matter whether Danny Ainge's plan to restore the franchise was by luck or design, he has made the Celtics relevant by bringing Garnett to Boston. I simply cannot wait for opening night. When was the last time any of us said that?

2. I'm not saying this Barry Bonds "chase" is dragging, but by the time he gets to 756, his ubiquitous daughter is going to be married with a family of her own, Greg Anderson will have escaped from Alcatraz or wherever he's rotting away with his misplaced loyalty, and Bud Selig and his snap-on toupee will have long since gone to the great used-car lot in the sky.

3. Assuming Randy Moss's hamstring is okay - and wouldn't that be a bummer to you, me, and Mr. Brady if this thing lingers into the season? - here's how I rate the Patriots' bounty of receivers. 1. Moss (He's still got it.) 2. Wes Welker (He's already on the same page as Brady, who raves about him.) 3. Jabar Gaffney (Smart, and the longer he is here, the better he gets.) 4. Donte Stallworth (An injury-prone tease.) 5. Troy Brown (They wouldn't have brought him back if there wasn't a guaranteed place for him . . . right?) 6. Reche Caldwell (Stop staring at me!) 7. Kelley Washington (Too skilled not to catch on elsewhere). 8. Chad Jackson (Take the year off, kid, and learn the playbook.)

4. Eddie House is the definition of an NBA vagabond, but he's going to be a popular player with the Celtics. He can shoot it (and as a Garbage Time All-Star, he's not shy about doing so), and as anyone who read ":07 Seconds Or Less," Jack McCallum's excellent book on the '05-'06 Phoenix Suns, can attest, he's a clubhouse comedian, armed with countless hilarious anecdotes and one-liners. He'll be a good fit here, and I bet he's an honorary member of Garnett's legendary posse in no time.

5.Just when you thought the pink hat-pandering Red Sox couldn't get more crass, you discover they are selling autographed Jon Lester "Survivor" baseballs on Red Sox.com - and donating only 10 percent of the profits to the Jimmy Fund. Shouldn't, say, 100 percent of the profits go to the franchise's signature charity? I hope there is a genuinely philanthropic reason for this, but right now it sure looks like an shameful money grab by the Sox marketing minions, and one that takes advantage of Lester's status as an inspiration.

6. Watching a droopy-faced Roger Clemens lumber off the mound in the second inning Thursday to a chorus of Bronx cheers, I had two thoughts: 1) Thanks goodness he's finally in the twilight of his career there and not here, and, 2) Of all the dramatic things you've evah seen, Suzyn, where does this rank?

7. I'll admit I'm hooked on "The Bronx Is Burning," not that I think it's any good. Oliver Platt's portrayal of George Steinbrenner is way too cartoonish (yes, that's possible), the emphasis on the Yankees' clubhouse drama relegates the fascinating Son of Sam and NYC blackout subplots to haphazardly tacked-on footnotes, and the actor playing Reggie Jackson really looks like Jackie Chiles in an Afro wig. At least the guy playing Thurman Munson is a ringer for the aeronautically challenged Yankees captain (ouch . . . too soon?), though his portrayal fails to capture Munson's chronic grumpiness. It's a fun, mindless diversion, I suppose, especially for a child of the '70s, but more than anything it's made me want to read Jonathan Mahler's well-regarded book.

8. In my typically ham-handed way of begging you to read this week's Fox column, I've got a hypothetical for you. Say the Twins make Johan Santana, a free agent after '08 who recently voiced his frustration with the front office, available in a deal this offseason. Put on your gorilla suit and pretend you're Theo Epstein for a moment, then ask yourself this: What would you offer Terry Ryan in exchange for the two-time Cy Young Award winner? Obviously, the bidding starts with Clay Buchholz. But who else is in the package? Jon Lester? Justin Masterson? Jacoby Ellsbury? Buchholz, Lester, Masterson, and Ellsbury? What do you think it would take . . . and what would you do? Discuss.

9. Today's completely random baseball card:


This one's a hat tip to TATB writing binky Joe Posnanski, who reminded me with this piece why I fell for baseball 29 years ago, and why it's still such a part of me despite my working in a profession that turns fans into cynics.

The All-Time Red Sox All-Dirtbag Team

These are the good ol' days for Red Sox fans. Not only is the ball club a perennial contender well on its way to another compelling autumn, but it seems the ownership emphasizes character in its players. Oh sure, Curt Schilling is something of a blowhard, and we're still not really sure what happened with Julio Lugo in Houston. But for the most part, we can feel pretty good about rooting for this group of players. It's funny, a buddy of mine mentioned the other day that he likes the personality of this team even better than that of the World Series champs of '04. While I consider that statement borderline blasphemous - I ate up the Cowboy Up antics, Cabrera's handshakes, etc., and given the tense atmosphere in Boston at that time, I don't think they would have won without being so ridiculously loose - I certainly understand why someone would admire the professionalism (not to mention the starting pitching) of this crew. But our appreciation for these recent Sox teams got us talking (reminiscing certainly is not the right word) about the days when we didn't have it so good, when Dan Duquette annually failed chemistry and the clubhouse was populated with more Dirtbags than Dirt Dogs. Coincidentally, I also received an email Thursday morning from a reader suggesting I write about my least favorite Red Sox of all-time. And so, with all of this considered and the people demanding some negativity, we offer you this, our All-Time All-Dirtbag team. Try to enjoy it more than you did when these bums actually played here.

CATCHER
Jim Leyritz: The embedded Yankee started the '98 season as the starting catcher, but griped and moaned his way out of town after losing playing time to some kid named Varitek. Good. Riddance. Honorable mention here goes to Rick Cerone, another all-talk, no-action type like Leyritz who was more interested in playing clubhouse lawyer than actually playing the game.

FIRST BASE
Tony Clark: Bright, friendly, and respected, he makes our anti-team for spending '02 seeming more concerned with baseball's labor strife than with helping the Sox win some freakin' ballgames. With co-conspirator Grady Little's help, he deftly sabotaged the Red Sox offense in '02, hitting three homers in 275 at-bats for a whopping .556 OPS. (For perspective, that's two points higher than Cesar Crespo's career OPS.) Frankly, after what I saw that season, I'm shocked he's still in the bigs.

SECOND BASE
Jose Offerman: Believe it or not, he's still playing, for the Atlantic League's Long Island Ducks, and as evidenced by this piece by ESPN's Jeff Pearlman, he's still in denial about the decline of his own skills. Says the perpetually sour Offerman, now 38: "A baseball player knows when his time is up. And I still have three years left in me." Say whaaaaat?

SHORTSTOP
Mike Lansing: I suppose it's somewhat of a copout to put this All-Universe jerk at shortstop since second base was the primary place he stunk it up for the 2000-01 Sox. But he did fill in during Nomar's various forays to the disabled list, and there simply must be a spot on the team for a player who was so delusional about his own abilities that he once tore the lineup card off the dugout wall and shredded it in full view of the media after discovering his name wasn't on it.

THIRD BASE
Shea Hillenbrand: Arrived in 2001 as a wide-eyed, gosh-I'm-just-happy-to-be-here kid, a ballplayer version of Opie Taylor. Departed in 2003 as a loudmouthed, overly entitled lunkhead with a vocabulary that would make John Rocker blush. Okay, maybe that's a little exaggerated, but honestly, I've never heard more horror stories about a player's public conduct than I have about Hillenbrand.

OUTFIELD
Wil Cordero: You know the reason. Let's move on . . .

OUTFIELD
Carl Everett: Our team captain, this dinosaur-doubtin', Kulpa's-melon-buttin', Globe-hatin' blockhead remains the epitome of the 2001 Sox, a collection of individuals so despicable (Manny, Pedro, Lowe, Varitek, and a few others excluded) that I actually quit watching baseball for awhile. God, I hated that team.

OUTFIELD
Dante Bichette: By the time he loafed his way to Boston, this chronic whiner was more slug than slugger. (As you probably figured, he did keep himself in terrific physical condition after his playing days ended. Don't click here if you're still eating your breakfast.)

RIGHTHANDED PITCHER
Roger Clemens: It's always about the money. And yet the disingenuous dope never fails to claim it's about everything else.

LEFTHANDED PITCHER
Matt Young: As long as his decision to give three years and $6.8 million to Young, a jittery lefty with a phobia about throwing to first base and a career record of 51-78, remains on Lou Gorman's resume, his decision to trade this guy will continue to rank as his second stupidest transaction as far as I'm concerned. (Upon further review, this probably isn't entirely fair to Young, who was by all accounts a gem of a guy. But man, was he terrible.)

RELIEF PITCHER
Ugueth Urbina: Depending on which version you believe, he got into either a heated argument or a rock-'em, sock-'em fistfight with Tim Wakefield over the volume of his stereo on a team flight in '01. Considering the dark developments in Urbina's life since then, Wakefield has to figure he was lucky Oogie didn't have his trusty machete on the plane with him.

DESIGNATED HITTER
Jack Clark: Strike out . . . buy a Ferrari . . . strike out . . . buy a Benz . . . ground into a double play . . . buy a Caddy. No wonder he ended up bankrupt.

MANAGER
Joe Kerrigan: All these years later, and I still can't believe he had the audacity to ask Manny to change his swing. I mean, he won eight games as a big-league pitcher - what the hell does he know about hitting? And of course he can never be forgiven for trying to make Pedro pitch meaningless September games with a shoulder injury, one so serious that he practically had the release point of Dan Quisenberry before, in a justifiable rage, he ripped off his jersey during a workout and announced he was shutting himself down. If ever I was going to go for the R rating on this blog, it would be to describe this backstabbing, incompetent weasel.

(Special shout-out to reader Jim Bell for suggesting this topic. Now let me know in the comments who I forgot.)

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.

Nine innings: 05.12.07

Playing a quick weekend edition of nine innings while waiting for Tito to take away Curt Schilling's internet privileges . . .

1. Josh Beckett is the most dominating pitcher in the American League. Tim Wakefield is on one of his unhittable hot streaks. Dice-K is showing the aptitude to make the adjustments required for him to live up to his reputation. And the bullpen has been the season's most pleasant surprise. I don't know how much of this is directly attributed to the work of new pitching coach John Farrell, but I will say this: His staff is making him look extremely competent right now.

2. The more I see of Dustin Pedroia, the more I think the comparison to Jody Reed is spot-on. Pedroia, like the former Sox second baseman (1987-'92), is a small, slow-footed converted shortstop who nonetheless has more pop than you'd expect. Reed made a habit of scraping fly balls off the Monster, averaging 43 doubles from 1988-90, and Pedroia, whose unorthodox swing-from-the-heels approach generates a ton of fly balls, looks like he might have the same knack.

3. Enough will the foolish suggestion that he could handle center field for any length of time should Coco Crisp suffer another injury. Wily Mo Pena is absolutely the worst outfielder I have ever seen at catching - make that attempting to catch - fly balls. And if he's charging a ball that's still in the air, forget it - just hope stays in front of him after clanging off his glove, or chest, or forehead. Mark my words: He's going to Canseco one off his coconut and into the stands before his time in Boston is done.

4. All right, I'll cut to the chase: If Roger Clemens fulfills the media's daydream-du-jour and makes his first '07 start at Fenway Park in the Sox/Yanks series June 1-3, I'll order one of his wife's unbelievably tacky sequined Yankees jean jackets - yes, you read that right, and A-Rod undoubtedly owns a closet full of them - and wear the "bedazzled" disaster to work every day until the AL East is clinched. My point: Why does everyone forget that a season debut against the Sox is just the kind of high-pressure event that Roger historically dodges?

5. Nick Markakis, the Orioles' second-year outfielder, put on a show against the Sox tonight, rapping four hits while robbing Jason Varitek of what looked like a possible home run. It won't be last time the Sox get beat by this kid - it's damning with faint praise considering the Orioles' player development failings, but Markakis is already the best young position player they've come up with since Cal Ripken Jr. 26 years ago.

6. Roy Halladay, out four-to-six weeks with appendicitis? Might as well start the firesale now, J.P. Ricciardi, because baseball season in Toronto is officially O-V-E-R.

7. Ken Griffey Jr. hit his 569th career home run tonight. Considering that the perception around baseball is that Junior's achievements are on the level - unlike some of his oversized contemporaries, he hasn't mysteriously improved in his mid-30s - I say that's a greater accomplishment than anything soon to be on Big Head Barry's resume.

8. Quick programming note: TATB, in its ongoing quest for world domination, is now linked up with Boston.com, a development we're pretty excited about for obvious reasons. (You can find us on the Red Sox page. Just scroll down a little, and there we are under Nation On The Net.) The only likely change around here is a positive one: I'll be more diligent about writing regularly, given the obligation and opportunity that comes with the new association. Also, we'll have better snacks in the break room. Anyway, for those of you have been coming here since I had something like 30 readers a month, thanks for spreading the word, sticking it out while we found our voice, and making good things happen for the site. Your contributions to this are greatly appreciated.

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



Because you can never go wrong with Dewey.

Nine innings: 05.09.07

Playing nine innings while feeling a whole lot better about the Hanley Ramirez trade these days . . .

1. Okay, so maybe we went a little over the top with our Kinison-like rant in ripping Roger Clemens the other day. It's just that of all of the things about Clemens that aggravate us - the convenient "tweaks" when a game isn't going his way, his knack for shrinking when the moment calls for him to stand tall, his demand for more perks than any diva in Hollywood, his phony aw-shucks demeanor - it's the oaf's chronic dishonesty that bugs us the most. Why did he have to stand there in Steinbrenner's lair and, peering smugly at the Yankee Stadium peons below, try to claim that he's back with the Yankees because they so quaintly "came and got him out of Texas"? Why can't he just admit that it's about what it has always been about with him: THE MONEY, STUPID! There's nothing wrong with that, particularly in this day and age, and yet the disingenuous rube thinks he's fooling us by claiming it's about everything but the cash. Who's he trying to kid? Remember when his name came up in the Jason Grimsley case? His first concern was that it was going to cost him endorsements. He's made $100-something million in his career, Koby, Kielbasa, Klambake, Kareem, and all the other "K" kids are financially set for several lifetimes, and yet he's more worried about losing his five-figure gig pitching Preparation H than about how being pegged as a juicer would affect his legacy. And still, in the face of his transparent greed, he has the hubris to act as if his cause is something far more noble than further engorging his bank account. What a fraud. Let me just make one more point before I go ballistic again: Had the Red Sox somehow outbid the Yankees in this charade - and given the desperation in the Bronx, that was not going to happen - you know he'd have fed us a similar line of Texas bull about how much coming home to Boston means to him and all of that treacly, Dr. Steinberg-scripted nonsense. Would we have eaten it up? Well, I suddenly find myself looking forward to watching Randy Moss play for my favorite team after years of despising the guy, so in the spirit of the truth I'll admit that, yeah, I'd swallow a heaping helping of hypocrisy and probably cheer Clemens, even though I'd hate myself in the morning. Hey, we sports fans are suckers for sentiment. Just ask Roger.

2. Unless David Ortiz actually enjoys the WEEI-driven conjecture about his own enhanced performance since he became a Red Sox, he'd be wise to refrain from any further head-scratching proclamations that he doesn't believe Barry Bonds knowingly used steroids. We appreciate Papi's good (if ill-informed) intentions, but he must realize than any time a slugger of this era speaks up in defense of Bonds, he immediately becomes a target of steroid suspicion himself. As for a certain other Sox player who weighed in on Bonds Tuesday, let's just leave it at this: When Curt Schilling had his chance before Congress to opine on steroids' impact on his profession, he clammed up to the point that we half expected him to pull the Sammy Sosa No hablo Ingles routine. Please, spare us the sanctimony now.

3. The pining for Alex Cora to play every day has died down now that Dustin Pedroia has begun to look like he belongs, and that's a good thing. While Cora is certainly a valuable member of the roster - this isn't the first time I've said he's the best utility player the Sox have had in my lifetime, and it won't be the last - he's a 31-year-old who has a .246 average in 10 big-league seasons. As a certain local football coach might say, he is what he is. The Sox are wise to give Pedroia an extended chance, and should he prove incapable of handling it, Cora should remain in the reserve role in which he thrives, while someone out of the Graffanino/Grudzielanek/Loretta cookie-cutter is brought in to take the majority of the at-bats.

4. If you thought you've been saying, "Did you see that catch Coco made?" on a frequent basis lately . . . well, according to Bill James via Seth Mnookin, there's a good reason for that, and it's not because you're suffering a flashback to that excruciatingly ubiquitous NESN commercial of a season ago. Crisp has been dazzling in center field lately, averaging roughly one Web Gem every other game or so, and at the plate and on the bases he's starting to look like the dynamic player the Sox coveted as Johnny Damon's successor. Hmmm, maybe he's going to thrive here after all.

5. You've probably heard this by now, but it's worth hearing again, because this hilariously shrill snippet of Yankee propaganda is so over-the-top that even Georgie Porgie mouthpiece John Sterling seemed taken aback. This will never get old. Heck, I'm putting it into heavy rotation on the iPod just to bring a little more comedy to my day. And for the record, I'm pretty sure Suzyn Waldman is what Glenn Geffner would sound like if he worked for the Yankees, idolized Liza Minnelli, and had a more masculine voice.

6. Toronto's Vernon Wells is becoming the Joe Carter of era, an outstanding all-around player who spends an inordinate amount of his time absolutely slaughtering Red Sox pitching. And like Carter, his predecessor by a generation as a Blue Jays signature player, Wells is an affable star whose ego has not swollen in proportion to his salary, as this fun story indicates.

7. Thirty-one games into his Boston tenure, Julio Lugo is the same guy I saw all those years in Tampa Bay: occasionally exciting, often erratic, and not someone you're terribly interested in having on your favorite team. I'm not going to go all Lobel on you and wonder why the Sox let Alex Gonzalez depart, because his currently stellar offensive numbers will be subpar once the summer is over. But I still don't understand Theo Epstein's fascination with Lugo, let alone for the 4-year, $36-million price tag.

8. Despite his Mark Clear imitation in his 2007 debut last night, we're going to stick by our binky and repeat our preseason prediction that Devern Hansack will be a valuable contributor to the Red Sox pitching staff this season. His command was clearly on the fritz last night; judging by what I saw of him last summer in Portland, that's highly unusual. Hansack is a strike-throwing machine with good movement on his low-90s fastball, a decent changeup, and a tight, sharp slider that is a major-league out pitch, as Frank Thomas found out last night. He's 29, with an unusual backstory and hardly the Baseball America pedigree, but you can hold me to this: Given a fair chance, Hansack will succeed in the big leagues.

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



Macha, the less-than-beloved former A's manager who once employed Terry Francona as his bench coach, is the latest addition to NESN's cadre of studio analysts. The early verdict: Though he's got about as much charisma as a sanitary sock, he brings an insider's knowledge when he talks about players' strengths and weaknesses. We still wish The Eck had the gig every night, but Macha has the potential to be a decent second option.