Show a little faith/there's magic in the night

Because sometimes, a Springsteen lyric just feels right.

Anyway, lots to get to, so let's go . . .


I know I'm a few days late on this one . . . but man, Papi just destroyed that Jered Weaver-Spicoli meatball, didn't he? Given the frustrations and injuries he's endured this season, I don't blame him at all for admiring it; it must have been cathartic. While that home run has been cited as an encouraging sign that he's about to get his mojo back in time for the stretch run, it was actually one he hit earlier in the Angels series, on a low and inside fastball against John Lackey, that made me think he's either feeling better (the cortisone might have kicked in) or fixed a flaw in his swing or something, because that was a pitch that he'd feasted on the past couple of seasons but had trouble with this year. And there's nothing that would give me more optimism about the Sox's postseason chances than the knowledge that Papi has found his fearsome form.

It's becoming more and more apparent that the Red Sox should have walked away from that J.D. Drew contract the moment they began to have concerns about the condition of his shoulder. I mean, I know he says he's healthy, but c'mon - that has to be the problem, right? He has no power - his slugging percentage is .391, or 18 points lower than Alex Freakin' Cora's - and this is a guy, who, for all of the knocks against him, has always been a consistently outstanding offensive player. And now he's the second coming of Rick Miller, a grounder-to-second-hitting machine who never seems to drive the ball with any authority? It doesn't make any sense . . . at least until you consider the one thing that gave the Sox pause about signing him in the first place. It's gotta be the shoulder. It has to be. So this is how we solve this: Either he admits he's hurt, or the Sox have to take him hostage and stuff him in a MRI tube, pronto, because this has gone on long enough.

Or, to put it another way. He has as many RBIs since July 21 - ten - as Garret Anderson had tonight. That's just pathetic.

I've got no problem with Bud Selig declining to punish Jason Giambi for admitting he used steroids. The Yankees' DH/Walking Sweat Gland is the closest thing to an honest man in this entire fraudulent, see-no-needle era, the commissioner included.


The stat line wasn't spectacular, but ultimately Clay Buchholz accomplished two impressive feats in his big league debut: He won the ball game against a very good Angels team, and he left a fickle fan base wanting to see more. I thought Tito Francona came up with the perfect comparison for Buchholz during his postgame press conference that day: a young Tim Hudson. I'd take that, wouldn't you?

The more I see of Kevin Youkilis, the more I hope the Sox sell on him in the offseason. It's not so much that I'm distressed by his second straight second half fade, because I still appreciate the contributions he makes in terms of on-base percentage and working the pitcher and so on. He's still a useful offensive player even when he's not hitting. It's just that his chronic complaining whenever an umpire dares to call a close strike on him has become relentlessly annoying, and watching him do the Bitter Beer Face thing whenever he disagrees with a call has made me realize that he carries himself on the field like a player who's accomplished a whole hell of a lot more than he actually has.

I'm not saying Phil Rizzuto does not belong in the Hall of Fame, but it is curious and maybe a bit eerie that the player most similar to him statistically in baseball history was in the headlines himself the same day Scooter passed away. And let's just say I'm fairly confident that Jose Offerman won't be going to Cooperstown unless there's an "Incorrigible Jerks of the 2001 Red Sox" exhibit at some point.

Wily Mo Pena's classy departure from the Red Sox? Sadly, it was the most graceful thing he did here. He's off to a decent start with the Nationals, though, and you can't help but wish him well. A friend who's around the Sox on a regular basis says Wily Mo was easily the friendliest person in the clubhouse, his teammates adored him and seemed to genuinely believe he'd someday harness his raw talent . . . don't you think it would be fun to see what kind of power numbers he'd put up if he could only figure how to recognize pitches before they bend and break? It didn't happen for him here. But I hope it does somewhere.

Well, now it all makes sense. In case you missed it, Drew Bledsoe confirmed what Patriots fans (and Bills fans . . . and Cowboys fans . . .) often suspected: football never was particularly important to him. Which is how a quarterback with an arm that's a gift from the great Lombardi in the sky ends up fumbling away his three NFL quarterbacking jobs to a skinny sixth-round pick with half of his raw talent, an undrafted free agent from East Podunk Illinois Agricultural And Nursing College For Women, and Opera Man lookalike J.P. Losman. Bledsoe thought his talent was enough. And it was, to get by. But while he's passing his days fishing on Lake Patpatpatsack up there in the Montana hills, that skinny sixth-rounder who wanted it more is putting the finishing touches on a Hall of Fame career. Ask me, there's justice in that.

By the way, I did not know until a moment ago that Bledsoe's middle name is McQueen. There's a good Jeff Garcia joke in there somewhere, but I'm not going to look for it.

So does this mean Marcus Vick is now considered the good son? And . . . that's all I've got to say about that. I realize this is a massive story with far-reaching implications, but to be honest, I'm more outraged that Leonard Little (kills a woman drunk driving, serves time, gets busted for drunk driving again) is still in the league than I am at the thought of Vick resurrecting his career with the Raiders a few years from now. You'll have to get your Vick fix elsewhere. I hear Ordway's into it, since, you know, there's nothing compelling going on with the Sox or Pats.


The Official Muse of TATB (Non-Wife Division) starring in a video for Wisely's "Through Any Window," one of those introspective sissy rock songs I'm an incurable sucker for? Well, of course I knew about this. Still, I do thank the half-dozen of you who sent along the clip above, as well as those of you who sent along the (probably not NSFW) trailer to Jenna Fischer's new movie "Walk Hard." It's a spoof of the musical biopic genre and looks fairly funny even though you get the sense Chest Rockwell got the lead only after Will Ferrell said no thanks. I do find it amusing that you guys think to send me this stuff though; I'm starting to think you picture me as Jenna's personal Woogie from "There's Something About Mary," obsessed to the point of a hideous facial rash. Well, I'll have you know I'm not obsessed at all, and the rash? It's just a little bit of a dry patch. Stress, you know. Sheesh. (Scratch, scratch . . .)

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card


You know you've led a fulfilling existence when begin a hero of the Impossible Dream Red Sox does not even come close to approaching your life's greatest accomplishment. We here at TATB tip our Sox cap to you, Mike Andrews. The franchise's genuine relationship with Dana Farber and the Jimmy Fund makes me proud to be a fan.

* * *

Finally, while I'm not going to pull a Posnanski and shut down the blog (Say it ain't so, Joe!), it became apparent the past few days that my work here is done. Why? Because I got an email from Chad Finn. No, not from myself, though I was a bit confused when I saw own my name show up in my inbox. It was from . . . (suspenseful pause) . . . the Blueberry Guy!

Yes! Him! For real!

Now, I'm sure some of you have no idea what I'm talking about (you're probably used to that). Let me explain: Back when I started this blog about 2 1/2 years ago, I griped in my introductory missive that I wasn't even the most notable Chad Finn on Google. Turned out there was some fruit-breeding wizard in Oregon who was making the name way more famous than I was as a sportswriting/newspaper grunt here in New England. Here's what I blubbered then:

Thanks for finding me. I figure if you navigated the vast expanse of the World Wide Web and somehow ended up right here, right now, you're either a former reader of my Concord Monitor column, someone recommended my site, you gave birth to me (hi mom - I'll call!), or you saw my half-page color ad in "Cat Fancy."

Heck, you must have sought me out, because the bleepin' Internet sure isn't going to help you find me without some digging. Search for "Chad Finn" and first thing that pops up is some hippie-looking cat who apparently has found far greater success breeding freakin' berries than I have as a sports journalist for two of New England's finest newspapers. Much to my ego's detriment, Chad Finn, Blueberry Guy comes in second on the search list, too. And third. Fourth, also. Dude's berries must be a sight to see. Whatever that means.

So, yeah, in case you wondering, there's your confirmation that I was actually this bitter when I started this thing. But a couple of cool things have happened since then. The site has been more fun and successful than I dared imagine in December, '04, and as the readership has grown, Google has given me the appropriate respect.

And now there's this, from my berry-lovin' namesake:

Note from another scientist in my lab who seemed to find as much humor in your column as you did in searching for me (Yeah I know he sent me this 3-year old article just last week):

Chad,

Did you happen to see this article (paragraph 4 and last paragraph) - http://touchingallthebases.blogspot.com/2004/11/scoop.html? It’s hilarious! Did you ever think that you’d end up in a blog with Paris Hilton”?! Did you ever think you’d be referred to as a “hippy looking cat”?! You’re famous!”

Not many of us out there… you and I, I think... so definitely aware of your writing and pleased as hell to share the name with someone who has so much passion. While I grew up in Indiana and DC area, my Dad was from Central Village CT. my Mom from Pawtucket and all my relatives from Boston area (Medfield, Newton, Foxboro, Wellesley), with a second cousin who had a Bosox blog, and an uncle whose business had a skybox at the old garden made me a big Sox and Celtics fan. So have a bit of common thread.

Living in Corvallis Oregon means my baseball passion has turned to the college ranks and boy has it been a helluva lot of fun watching the OSU team win the last two NCAA championships.

Keep up the good work and irreverence. I’ll keep smiling and working with my “freakin berries” … you’re probably eating them when you down a berry product at your local bakery… Take care.

Chad

So, in sum: Chad Finn has got serious Boston ties, he follows the baseball program that gave us Jacoby Ellsbury, he instinctively knows this Chad Finn likes to go to the bakery, he's okay with me whuppin' him on Google much in the way the Boo Berry cereal monster would whup Strawberry Shortcake (gotta speak the berry pusher's language there), and he's a good sport about this whole ridiculous thing (which I can't believe you just spent three minutes reading, by the way).

In other words, we Chad Finns - the both of us - are pretty damn good dudes. Represent!

Bye-bye, Boomer

Just a quickie post to point you toward this week's Fox column, which leads with a tribute (sort of) to Boomer Wells, as well as thoughts on Chipper Jones's Hall of Fame chances, some ambivalence for Balco Barry, the Rick Ankiel redemption, and other ridiculous stuff.

(And if that doesn't sell you, then just check out the first comment. It's worth the price of admission. Though I guess it is pretty cool that Bonds lapdog Greg Anderson apparently reads the column.)


Also, because I have just witnessed the unbelievable, a Completely Random Baseball Card:

You're probably not going to believe this, but I just saw Wily Mo Pena hit a curveball - and not just any curveball, but Eric Bedard's top-of-the-line hammer. And not only that, but he got a hit and an RBI off the damn thing, tying the score in the eighth inning in what looked destined to be of those aggravating losses in which the offense takes the night off. If these are Wily Mo's last days in a Sox uniform - and you have to believe they are, given that he has cleared waivers and assuming Bobby Kielty can shake the rust off in Pawtucket - it's cool that he gets a nice moment of his own before he goes.

(And while I was writing that, Eric Gagne-Slocumb pissed away a four-run lead in the eighth. That'll teach me to be positive about a game that isn't over yet.)

Nine innings: 07.24.07

Playing nine innings while wishing Papi would learn how to slide . . .


1. Of course it was heartwarming and wonderful to see Jon Lester on the mound for the Red Sox last night, earning the victory in his first appearance since his cancer diagnosis last August, and from a sentimental standpoint I hope he spends the next dozen years winning ballgames and inspiring Jimmy Fund patients as a treasured member of the Red Sox. But from a coldly unsentimental baseball standpoint, I have to say that the pitcher I saw last night was the same one I saw last summer, one who lacks either the command or the trust in his stuff to be as efficient and effective as a pitcher of his raw talent should be. Sure, I realize the magnitude of the moment, that he surely had butterflies as big as Mothra in his stomach as he completed his long journey back to a big-league mound, and his bases-loaded whiff of Grady Sizemore did bring back fun memories of his high point of a season ago, when he whiffed the Mets' David Wright in a remarkably similar situation. But I still can't help but think (and I admit, hope) that Theo Epstein should be so ruthless as to trade Lester for Mark Teixeira while the young lefty still retains most of his Elite Prospect luster. I hope Lester will become the pitcher we all want him to be, for reasons that extend well beyond baseball. It's just that I'm slightly skeptical, based on what I have seen of him from Portland on up, that it will ever happen, and I wonder, putting their fondness and respect for the kid aside, if the Red Sox honchos feel the same way.

2. Four straight wins . . . the first team in the majors to 60 victories . . . a lead over the "surging" Yankees that is actually a hal-game larger than it was on Mother's Day. Yes, I think it's okay to feel good about the Red Sox again. It's funny, but it seems to me that the baseball gods, who had been conspiring against the Sox for the past few weeks, finally decided to cut them some slack after Tim McClelland turned J.D. Drew's three-run homer into an inning-ending RBI double Friday night. It looked like that was going to be one more bad break, one more lost opportunity . . . and then the next thing you know, Julio Lugo of all people is getting a curtain call after hitting a grand slam, the Sox are cruising to a much-needed win, and all is well. I'm still convinced they need one more A-list hitter in the middle of the lineup, but with Lugo and Coco Crisp contributing and Manny Ramirez finally finding his groove, this lineup more often than not will score enough runs for the stellar pitching staff to come away with a win. As long as the Sox remain reasonably healthy, I'm relatively confident they'll keep the Yankees at a comfortable distance the rest of the way.

3. For all of the talk about Kason Gabbard being a finesse pitcher (I believe the proper baseball term is "a Jamie Moyer-type"), it's worth noting that in his brief major-league career he is averaging slightly more than six strikeouts per nine innings, which is more than respectable and tells you his stuff is better than he's often given credit for. This isn't Kevin Morton or Abe Alvarez we're talking about here. I've seen enough in his 10 career starts to believe that Gabbard has the arm and the repertoire to win in the big leagues.

4. Happy trails, Wily Mo Pena, and good luck with your ongoing and thus far futile quest to recognize a slider. Oh, I know Pena's technically still around, but it's only a matter of days now before he's an Oakland A or a Pittsburgh Pirate, and I figured I'd get the jump on the farewells. That way we can get on with pretending this whole thing never happened.

5. From Peter King's Monday Morning Quarterback column:

b. Not that I'm questioning what planet David Ortiz has fallen off, but the catcher for Kansas City, John Buck, who starts about 65 percent of the time and has 121 fewer at-bats, has as many homers, 16, as Ortiz.

c. The following players, four months into the season, have more home runs than Ortiz, who hit 54 last year: Dan Uggla, Brandon Phillips, Carlos Pena, Chris Duncan, Jimmy Rollins, J.J. Hardy, Jack Cust, Brad Hawpe.

d. Theories, anyone? And don't give me the stuff about his right knee being sore. That's not his plant knee.

Now, I suppose ol' Latte Lips is not-so-subtly implying something about Papi here, but no matter what ham-handed point he is trying to make, I know this: Every time King writes about his favorite team, the Red Sox, I find myself wishing he was a Yankees fan.

6. Obligatory random football note: Considering that Michael Vick has probably overthrown his last receiver for the Falcons, and considering that the only place he's better than Drew Brees is on Madden, this trade has to go down as the most lopsided in NFL history since the Vikings traded half their depth chart along with their draft board for Herschel Walker.

7. Now this is the Coco Crisp the Red Sox thought they were getting from the Indians before last season. This is the guy who was so dynamic last spring before before a broken finger ruined his first season in Boston. After last night's 4-for-5 performance in his first game in Cleveland since the trade, his batting average is up to .284, and most encouragingly, he's finally hammering good fastballs again, something we were told was his strength as a hitter but never really saw until recently. I'm as enamored with Jacoby Ellsbury as everyone else around here, but if the Crisp we've seen the last six weeks or so is the Crisp we're going to be getting from here on out, I'm in no hurry to see him move on. He's been a joy to watch, especially in the field, and I hope - and believe - it will continue.

8. Not that I'm getting tired of the Yankees digging up these sold-my-soul-to-the-devil types who come out of nowhere seemingly ever other year to provide a late-season jolt, but I am wondering if Shelley Duncan and Shane Spencer have ever been seen in the same room together.

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


Beyond the obvious tragedy of a man dying too young, the thing that really breaks my heart about this story is that Coolbaugh had two children, ages 5 and 3, with a third on the way. Being a father of two myself and roughly the same age as Coolbaugh, I keep catching myself wondering how his widow can possibly have the strength to explain to their two boys why their dad is gone.

Marked man

Playing nine innings while wondering what Papi and his torn meniscus were doing playing in the All-Star game . . .


1. I know it's probably cold and heartless of me given all that he has overcome, but if the Texas Rangers are willing to take Jon Lester as the centerpiece in a trade for Mark Teixeira, I hope Theo says, "You've got yourself a deal, Daniels," without even a single sentimental second thought. Teixeira is exactly the hitter the Sox need, and it would free them up to trade Mike Lowell (c'mon, you really expect him to hit in the second half like he did in the first?) for some depth. I'm not sweating the Sox' ongoing lethargy - the Yankees are too flawed to take advantage, and besides, the Sox went through the same thing in '04 and that turned out okay - but the more I see this lineup get shut down by the likes of Jesse Litsch and Ryan Feierabend, the more one-run games I see them lose, the more certain I become that they need another Grade A bat in the heart of the lineup. Yeah, there are signs that Manny and Papi are about to bust out of their power drought, but isn't it still alarming that they had a combined 30 (thirty!) fewer homers at the break this year than they did a season ago? Teixeira, who already has put up seasons of 38, 43, and 33 homers at age 27, would ease their burden tremendously, and that he's a switch-hitter only enhances his appeal. And as arrogant though it may sound, I'm convinced that once Teixeira, an East Coast kid who recently ripped the Rangers for their lack of commitment to winning, got to experience playing at Fenway, he'd do everything in his power to stay after his contract expires in '08. Yes, Lester is a talent, no doubt, and we'll never question his spirit or his mental toughness after all he's endured. But I still wonder about his command issues, and while 'EEI callers seem to fail to grasp this concept, to get something you usually need to give something up. For Mark Teixeira, giving up Lester would be worth it.

2. The Mike Timlin rejuvenation is one of the more pleasant (and downright shocking) developments of the season, and it couldn't come at a better time considering that the next time we read Brendan Donnelly's name in the newspaper I suspect it may be accompanied by a reference to a visit with Dr. James Andrews.

3. Had to chuckle when Cable-Access Geffner, while talking with Dave O'Brien about the Police's upcoming visit to Fenway during today's radio broadcast, put on his public relations hat and dutifully rattled off the list of all the great acts who have played there in recent years . . . but one rather notable omission. Mick who? Never heard of him, Dr. Steinberg. Then again, Geffner admitted he wasn't much of a fan of Sting and the boys back in their stellar '80s heyday, which I suppose really shouldn't come as a surprise. I'm pretty sure that's when Geffner was going through his "Like a Virgin" phase.

4. Wily Mo Pena is by all accounts a good-natured, hardworking kid, and there's no denying he has the raw physical talent to hit 35+ home runs in a major league season someday. But even to those of us who thought dealing Bronson Arroyo for him was a shrewd move must admit the truth right now: It would be better for him and the ball club if he moved on. He needs to play every day for a ball club like Kansas City or Pittsburgh (Xavier Nady for Wily Mo? Yes, please) where he can get the 500 at-bats he needs to hone his skills, particularly when it comes to pitch recognition. I like him, and I root for him to make it big, but it's just not going to happen for him here.

5. When - not if, when - A-Rod opts out of his contract with the Yankees and leaves his private New York hell behind after this professionally redemptive season, what he should do is sign with the Angels, who are a perfect match: They have a desperate need for a hitter of his talents, and they happen to play in a city and a ballpark that are as inauthentic as the player himself. But I've said it before and I'll say it again: Four seasons after they first courted him, I think there is a very real chance he ends up with the Red Sox. It would be doable financially (Lowell, Clement, Eric Hinske and Curt Schilling are coming off the books), it would work roster-wise (Lowell is a free agent), it would work from both sides' presumed desire to stick it to New York (c'mon, you don't think he hungers to beat Jeter?), and most of all, it works just like it did in the winter of '03-'04, when he was willing to take a pay cut to come here and Larry Lucchino and Dr. Charles were practically giggling like schoolgirls while plotting how they'd market him as the face of the franchise to all the loyal sucke . . . er, residents of Red Sox Nation. I'm not saying I want this to happen (though if we can root for Randy Moss, accepting A-Rod as one of our own probably won't break the Hypocrisy Meter), and I'm not saying it will happen . . . but I think I would be more surprised if the Sox don't try to make this happen than if they do.

6. In case you missed it - and I'm really hoping you did - Jeter won the ESPY for the Best Baseball Player. So to answer the longstanding question, yes, there is an award more meaningless and arbitrary than the Gold Glove.

7. I tend to think Jason Varitek gets too much credit for certain immeasurable things, such as his game-calling. There are a lot of pitchers who have faltered on his watch while later thriving elsewhere, and I'm with Remy; Why was Papelbon messing around with a cutter with the game on the line against Detroit last week? Going back further, why would anyone ever call for a low-and-away fastball to A-Rod? (I know, I know, let it go). But there is simply no exaggerating his value to the Red Sox right now, not only because of his somewhat surprising bounce-back season at the plate at age 35, but mostly because the dropoff from Tek to Dougie Chicken Parm is like going from Jessica Biel to Jessica Tandy. It's so unappealing that you don't even want to think about it.

8. I wrote about this in my Sox GameDay column a few days ago, but I'll regurgitate it here in case you didn't see it. I'm convinced Clay Buchholz will be pitching for the Red Sox after four or five starts at Pawtucket, provided things go as well in Triple A as his talent suggests they will. He's on the same path Papelbon was on in '05: half a season at Portland, a handful of starts at Pawtucket, and then a promotion to the big leagues as a live arm to help the playoff push. You might recall that by the end of the '05 postseason, Papelbon was the Sox' most effective pitcher. I doubt that will be the case with Buchholz, simply because the Sox staff is so much deeper and more talented than it was in '05 (see: Matt Clement, Game 1 starter, ALDS), but he will be a factor, whether it's in the rotation or as one more power arm out of the 'pen.

9. As for today's Completely Random 8x10 Photo*:


Fourteen years after Dan Duquette insisted Stairs could hit big-league pitching if someone just looked past the bowling-pin physique and gave him a chance, the 39-year-old Bangor, Maine resident is still proving him right.

* - Because we couldn't find a card of him in a Sox uni.

P.S. - For those of you who aren't tired of reading my nonsense after this disaster, here's my lastest Fox column, if you missed it. Man, I'm awesome at this self-promotion stuff, aren't I?

Nine innings: 05.21.07

Playing nine innings while hunching that Manny is about to break out of it big-time in the Bronx . . .

1. Ten-and-a-half games? Nice, but not enough. Not nearly enough. When these three games are over, I want the Yankees reeling. I want the deficit at 13.5 games come Wednesday night. A month from now, I want it at 20-something, and by September, I want them chasing the Devil Rays. I want them blasted in the 120-point headlines on the back and front pages of the Post and Daily News. I want George "Weekend at Bernie's" Steinbrenner's publicist issuing harshly worded press releases chock-full of unintentional comedy. I want the newly unemployed Joe Torre sitting on his porch in Hawaii, wondering where it all went so wrong and if his legacy is irreparably damaged. I want the Rocket to have second thoughts and a convenient hamstring "tweak." I want Matt DeSalvo and Tyler Clippard to realize they aren't Aaron Small, 2005. I want Suzyn Waldman muted. I want Brian Cashman to wish he'd gone to nursing school like he secretly dreamed. I want A-Rod to bicker behind the scenes with Derek Jeter while counting the days until he escapes . . . er, opts out. I want Robinson Cano to continue his Chuck Knoblauch impression, I want Johnny Damon to continue hemorraging body parts, and I want Mariano Rivera to mournfully long for those golden days when no one could touch his cutter. Is that too much to ask? Well, yeah, probably. But you get the point. For once, the Sox have a chance to deliver an early-season blow that the Yankees may not be able to recover from; if the Sox can rough them up over the next three days, the aftermath in the Bronx is going to be gruesome. So why not daydream big? It might make it all the sweeter should it become reality.

2. All right, I'll admit it. My pre-Boston perception of Julian Tavarez couldn't have been more wrong. I thought he was a hothead, a lunatic, a selfish clubhouse cancer and unpopular teammate who didn't particularly care about winning. Oh, he's still a hothead and a lunatic, but it's become apparent that he's an endearing and extremely well-liked hothead/lunatic, one whose tantrums usually are the direct result of his frustration with letting his teammates down. It's funny, but he has many of the same characteristics, both positive and self-destructive, as Oil Can Boyd had back in the day. From his comical one-sided dugout chats with Dice-K to his part-time gig as Manny's unofficial spokesman to his willingness to pitch in any role and situation that the team requests of him, it's clear that Tavarez and the Red Sox are a good fit. Who knew? Surely not me.

3. Where have you gone, Dennis Eckersley? Maybe I've just had the coincidental misfortune of missing the Eck's NESN studio appearances recently, but it seems to me the likes of Dave McCarty, Jim Rice and Ken Macha have been getting more airtime lately. Even Jack Welch has been coming down from the Muppets balcony to throw his ill-informed two cents in. (Or two billion cents, given that's probably what he's paying for the privilege.) No Eck? This is not a good thing. With the Sox in the Bronx and the anticipation running high, I'd better see the original slickermaster on my TV tonight, offering the sharp insight and unfiltered opinions that make him the best baseball analyst there is, including everyone currently employed in Bristol, Conn. The Eck retired from pitching nine years ago, but in his second career, he's still the go-to guy in a big game.

4. It seems like every lefthander with a fastball that probably wouldn't earn a speeding ticket is labeled The Next Jamie Moyer, particularly if said lefty has a quality breaking pitch, a sneaky changeup, and the requisite savvy to make batters look foolish despite a limited repertoire. And while that probably does Moyer a disservice, given that he's pitched his way to 220 major-league wins while so many Kevin Mortons have come and gone, I must admit that they more I see of Kason Gabbard, the more I think he can be one of those shrewd, successful southpaws - yes, in the Moyer mold - who seems to find a way to win without ever overwhelming anyone. He couldn't have been more impressive Sunday, and he's been a consistently effective pitcher for over a full season now. Considering Terry Francona is an unabashed fan, I'm guessing we haven't seen the last of Gabbard in Boston.

5. Jason Giambi is in a 1-for-26 slump. And the Yankees, who curiously okayed his agent's request to omit all contract language regarding performance enhancing drugs when they originally signed him, are rumored to be looking for a way out of Juicin' G's deal after his mildly incriminating comments about steroid use this week. Hmmm . . . this cycle, so to speak, sounds vaguely familiar. I fully expect a miraculously rejuvenated Giambi to hit, say, 12 home runs next month, then tell us his sudden power surge is due to his decision to quit eating cheeseburgers for breakfast, or some other such nonsensical attempt to obscure the truth.

6. While the eminently likable Wily Mo Pena has occasionally mixed in a prodigious home run or two among his numerous strikeouts and fielding mishaps, it's fair to say he's probably not going to approach his potential until he escapes this growth-stunting bench role in Boston. He needs to get 550 at-bats for a team with no real postseason aspirations, one that can afford to let him learn certain hitting skills on the job, such as how to recognize a slider before it hits the dirt. Unless J.D. Drew runs into another wall or Manny's hamstring starts barking, there's little he can do to contribute to the cause here. I bet he's gone at the trade deadline for a better-fitting piece.

7. Saw this on the always insightful Fragile Freddy blog, and thought it was such a smart and original idea that I'd pilfer it for myself: If he hasn't already, Theo Epstein should contact the Braves about Jarrod Saltalamacchia, their outstanding catching prospect who is stuck behind Brian McCann, and see if perhaps the Sox can put together a package to bring the just-turned-22-year-old to Fenway. Saltalamacchia is rarity in that he's a legitimately elite prospect both behind and at the plate, and with Jason Varitek now 35, and George Kotteras struggling mightily at Pawtucket, the Sox are somewhat desperate for a legitimate catching successor. I doubt the Braves would trade their consensus top prospect unless they received a ransom in return . . . but you have to figure they will move him at some point, and the Sox are as reasonable a destination as any.

8. We like to break this out every now and then, just for the sake of good karma. (And also because it will never, ever get old.)

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


Larry Wayne Jones is 35? Really? Geez, as if my rickety bones don't feel old enough these days. I suppose he has been around for a long time now, but seems like just yesterday the Braves were getting spindled and mutilated by the Baseball America types for choosing a Florida kid nicknamed Chipper over can't-miss Texas high school pitcher Todd Van Poppel . . . who, of course, did miss, spectacularly.

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: 07.31.06

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

And don't forget Julio Valdez

New column coming late Sunday night, peeps. In the meantime, what say we crank out a weekend edition of our Random Lists of Five . . .


Five Players Who Should Never Get Booed At Fenway:
1. Pedro (Don't tell me you've forgotten already.)
2. Derek Lowe (Sports Guy nailed it in a recent column when he compared him to Sam Malone.)
3. Nomar (Remember when it seemed like he hit the ball hard every single time up? There were too many good times to let the acrimonious ending ruin his legacy.)
4. Keith Foulke (Someone might want to remind Johnny from Burger King that Foulke was the real MVP of the 2004 postseason.)
5. Everyone else from the 2004 champs that hasn't yet signed with the Yankees.

Five Pitchers Who Were Not The Eastern League Pitcher Of The Year Last Season (Because Jon Lester Was):
1. Justin Verlander, Erie
2. Francisco Liriano, New Britain
3. Jonathan Papelbon, Portland
4. Chris Ray, Bowie
5. Joel Zumaya, Erie

Five Players You Might Not Remember From the Super Bowl 36 champion New England Patriots:
1. Terrance Shaw
2. Matt Stevens (the white Tebucky: Big hitter with no instincts.)
3. Fred Coleman (the third receiver, no less)
4. Charles Johnson
5. Arthur Love (the poor man's Jabari Holloway.)


Five Former Teammates Of Jason Grimsley . . .
1. Lenny Dykstra, Phillies, 1989-91
2. "Corky" Belle, Cleveland, 1993-95
3. Troy Percival, Anaheim, 1996
4. Roger Clemens, New York, 1999-00
5. Rafael Palmeiro, Baltimore, 2004-05


. . . And Five More:
1. Steve Jeltz, Phillies, 1989
2. Alvaro Espinosa, Cleveland, 1993-95
3. Gary DiSarcina, Anaheim, 1996
4. Luis Sojo, New York Yankees, 1999-2000
5. Bruce Chen, Baltimore, 2005

Five Most Similar Pitchers To Bronson Arroyo According To Baseball-Reference.com:
1. Roy Smith (Former Maine Guide, gem of a guy, not much of a pitcher)
2. Aaron Harang
3. Mike Harkey
4. Garrett Stephenson
5. Alan Benes

Five Most Similar Hitters To Wily Mo Pena According To Baseball-Reference.com:
1. Jon Nunnally (a brief member of the '99 Sox - Duquette signed about 500 Jon Nunnallys in his tenure)
2. Bob Thurman
3. Brant Alyea
4. Chuck Essegian
5. Roy Foster (yeah, I have no idea who these guys are, either)

Five Songs That Have Popped Up On My iPod As I Write This Crap:
1. "You Could Be Mine," Guns & Roses (Makes me want to break stuff.)
2. "Fake Plastic Trees," Radiohead (Makes me want to break more stuff!)
3. "Symbol In My Driveway," Jack Johnson (Okay, I'm calm now. One of my favorite lyrics: Got my plans in a Ziploc bag/Let's see/How unproductive we can be
4. "When The Stars Go Blue," Tim McGraw (Tug's boy may not have the greatest pipes, but he knows how to pick a cover tune.)
5. "California Love," Tupac and Dr. Dre (Because sometimes, TATB kicks it old school.)

Five Best Books About The Yankees:
1. "The Last Night of the Yankee Dynasty," Buster Olney
2. "Damned Yankees," Bill Madden and Moss Klein
3. "Bronx Zoo," Peter Golenbock and Sparky Lyle
4. "Steinbrenner," Dick Schaap (You think he's a giant dinkus now? Twenty years ago he was a tyrant.)
5. "Man Crush: Of Derek, Mariano, and a Frisky Announcer's Unrequieted Love," by Tim McCarver

Five Random Celtics And/Or Lakers From The '80s:
1. Clay Johnson (a garbage-time superstar)
2. Connor Henry (looked like Shaun Cassidy . . . played like Shaun Cassidy)
3. Chuck Nevitt (the Lakers' answer to Greg Kite)
4. Mike Smrek
5. David Thirdkill


Five 1981 Pawtucket Red Sox, Excluding TATB Hall of Famer Chico Walker, Who Hit 17 Homers, Stole 24 Bases, And Yet Couldn't Get A Fair Shot In Boston:
1. Wade Boggs
2. Bruce Hurst
3. Bob Ojeda
4. Rich Gedman
5. Marty Barrett

Five Must-Read Baseball Writers, Non-Globe Division:
1. Gammons (I love my job, but not as much as he seems to love his.)
2. Bill James (It's this simple: Anyone who belittles him hasn't read his work.)
3. Thomas Boswell, Washington Post (His Sox/Yanks stuff during the 2004 postseason was brilliant.)
4. Bob Klapisch, Bergen (N.J.) Record (consistently well-written stuff about the Yankees and the Mets, and the book he co-authored on the despicable '92 Mets, "The Worst Team Money Could Buy," gets the TATB seal of approval.)
5. Olney