Golfing With Mr. Hunter (and Mr. Upton).

I'm not sure if my recent dislike of Torii Hunter gives me leave to make fun of his charity. Even if he is a terrible friend and his charity's mission statement is somewhat grandiose and self-satisfied, he probably does a lot of good. Besides which, the man has connections.

Josh Beckett hosts a bowling tournament with a similarly vague goal of helping children and you get coverage from the local media outlets. Torii Hunter hosts a golf tournament to help children in his own self-important way and he gets MLB Network to cover it for him. Beckett has an after party with some band I've never heard of (sorry) and Hunter gets Brian McKnight for his shindig (I couldn't tell you what he sings but I have heard of him).

The reason for bringing it up? Both Dustin Pedroia and David Ortiz (who must be a better person than me) have agreed to show up for the November 10-11 tournament. And although Kevin Millar is shown in an Orioles uniform in the slide show at the bottom of the page and it's been four seasons since he played in Boston, he apparently remains an Old Sock to everyone. Also, if Hazel Mae is your thing, she'll be there too.

Friday Night Retirement.

Duluth high school in Duluth, Georgia has two somewhat recent claims to fame. A dozen years ago, Nick Green graduated from said school and five years after that Brain McCann followed suit. While there both played basketball in addition to baseball. And that's probably where the Brian McCann-Nick Green comparison should end.

Tonight both went back to their old stomping grounds so that the school could retire their numbers during a football game. Says Green:

"It's always nice for people to recognize you, especially as long as I've been gone. It's great that they remember me and it's a nice honor for us and what we did for the program. It means a lot to us."

Here's what I found interesting though: In the second article it says that Green's leg problem was really a back problem that will require surgery to correct. I would assume that even if the Sox were to let him go on his merry way, they'd be responsible for paying for the surgery. So why the delay? It seems like the season has been over for ages.

Big Words.

The opening shots have been fired in the Jason Bay Free Agency Conflict and Bay's agent, Joe Urbon, has apparently come out swinging. Says Urbon:

"I think the only defensive statistic that I know for sure that is easily measurable is outfield assists and errors committed, and Jason is just the third outfielder in major league history to lead the league in outfield assists while not creating an error all season, the last guy being Carl Yastrzemski. It used to be that those statistics were enough. In baseball we all need a better evaluation of defensive ability but the defensive metrics we have out there are so debatable, and in most cases proprietary, that it is hard to quantify a player’s ability to play defense."

Outfield assists are a nice thing. No doubt about that. And to tell you the truth, I didn't realize that Bay had fifteen last season or that he lead the league. But c'mon errors? Errors are a crap statistic. They're subjective on the part of the scorekeeper and therefore are not easily quantifiable. And I'll say that it also drives me nuts that it's not public information how zone ratings are figured out--how can I trust that they don't just pull the numbers out of a hat, if I can't plug in the numbers myself. But let's be realistic, Jason Bay is no Yaz.

“Jason Bay is a serviceable outfielder. That’s what we know. We know that Jason bay can play left field. Some will say he’s average, some will say he’s below average. But he’s certainly not a DH or, as someone described him, a hockey goalie out there.”

Ok. I'll give you that it's not going to kill the team to put him in left field; he's not dead weight. Plus, you've got a rangy centerfielder who takes away the need for Bay to ever move to his left. (Meanwhile Jacoby apparently has defensive issues of his own.) I wouldn't call him a hockey goalie, though. A statue? Maybe. But not a hockey goalie. Toward the end of the season they played a game with Josh Reddick in left. Someone hit a little bloop to short left and Reddick came charging in and caught the ball. It was by no means an amazing catch (maybe it was down by his knees) and wouldn't normally have been a play of any note but I was stunned, absolutely stunned that it wasn't a base hit. I guess it shows that you can get used to god awful defense.

Look, I like Bay. I do. He seems like a perfectly nice fellow. I certainly wouldn't be adverse to them bringing him back. But no matter how you spin it, defense has never been Jason Bay's strong suit. Plus he strikes out too much.

Fighting the Good Fight.

If we were all allowed to pick the way we were going to die, then cancer would be eradicated tomorrow. It would cease to exist because no one would ever choose to go out that way. Not even the most masochistic or attention-deprived among us would elect to have a highly-treatable form of the disease in order to meet their needs, if they really knew what cancer treatment was like.

Cancer (and it's treatment) is ugly. A formerly vibrant human being lies there, wracked with pain, wasting away while a mass of rouge cells roils through their body destroying as it sees fit. And our response is either to poison it, or to shoot radiation at it, or to cut it out, or some combination of the three.

That's not to say that amazing progress hasn't been made in the treatment of the disease. Thanks to the huge amount of money thrown at the problem, cancer isn't nearly the death sentence it was thirty years ago. But it is still far too common of a diagnosis; there are still children forced to face their own mortality way before they should be and guilt-ridden families left behind to deal with the aftermath.

To that end, former best beloved Craig Breslow will be hosting a fundraising gala in New Haven, CT on November 7. The money raised will go to his Strike 3 Foundation, which supports pediatric cancer research. And as an added incentive to actually making the trek down there, despite not being the best public speaker and possibly making everyone seasick from his swaying/inability to stand still (which might prove disastrous after eating from a raw bar) Nomar is supposed to be the guest speaker.

Movin Up.

The Houston Astros announced this afternoon that they would be going into next season with Brad Mills at their helm. Terry Francona had nothing but good things to say about his friend:

"I think he's ready. He's been ready. That's subjective, but he's been working his whole life toward this. When he was second in charge, he did a great job. Now he's going to be making the decisions, and he'll do a great job. You can't find a better guy. He deserves this opportunity. Again, I hope he takes it and runs with it. I'm thrilled for him."

Good luck to Mills. He has, to put it politely, a challenge ahead of him.



And as long as we're talking about one, we might as well mention the other: Assistant GM Jed Hoyer has also gotten himself a new job. He has been hired as the General Manager of the San Diego Padres for the next four years. He also has a challenge ahead of him.

10-27-04.

I sat down this morning with every intention of writing up something about the five year anniversary of the 2004 World Series. But nothing I could come up with seemed sufficient and not a rehash of something I'd already written. And so I mulled. And I hemmed and I hawed. And I stalled. And morning became afternoon and eventually became night and soon is going to be morning again. So I'll have to make do.

The truth is I hated that team. I loved them to death but deep down I hated them. I hated what they'd always been able to do to me and, probably, were going to keep right on doing to me. Right up until the end, I had visions of Keith Foulke lobbing that ball into the stands, St. Louis coming back, momentum shifting, and 2004 becoming just another pathetic chapter in the annals of Red Sox lore. They'd once and again always be the Red Flops. But he didn't and everything changed. Which seems like a ridiculous hyperbole but it's true; "Maybe next year" really does mean "Maybe next year"now. And for that I can't thank them enough.

Because the traditional fifth anniversary gift is wood, I've decided to mark the occasion with a David Ortiz baseball bat. Use it in good health.

Different Strokes.

A couple of nights ago Jacoby Ellsbury was spotted whooping it up at Rain nightclub in the Palms Hotel in Las Vegas--which is where Real World Las Vegas was based. (Don't judge me.) It was the night of John McCain's daughter's birthday party but it seems as if Ellsbury's appearance, his dance floor adjacent table, and his vodka cocktails were merely incidental and that he wasn't part of the big do.

Meanwhile down in Texas, Josh Beckett will be playing in Vernon Wells' Charity golf tournament on November 2. The tournament is meant to raise money for the Vernon Wells Perfect 10 foundation. I'm not entirely certain but it seems that the foundation works to help homeless children in the Arlington, TX area.

Cool Jacoby Ells.

With his seventy stolen bases this year Jacoby Ellsbury will once again be the recipient of the Cool Papa Bell Award presented by the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum in Kansas City. The award (given to the league leaders in stolen bases) is no surprise but even the winners of the subjective awards were well chosen; Elvis Andrus is a good choice for a rookie award, Mike Scioscia is a decent choice for a manager award, and Jack Zduriencik is a deserving executive.

The only one I questioned was Joe Morgan receiving an award for career excellence in the face of adversity. Joe Morgan does an award-worthy job? If you want to talk about his career as a baseball player, that's fine. But if you're going to talk about career excellence, then you can't ignore his ESPN gig and his general ineptitude at that job. But then I thought about it some more and realized that despite some pretty severe adversity (being a complete moron and not actually watching the game that he's supposed to be commenting on) he manages to keep himself employed. And that does take some sort of excellence.

Good Deeds.

Two little bits of info tonight:

1. David Ortiz will be hosting his second charity golf tournament in the Dominican Republic on December 3-6. The tournament raises money for the David Ortiz Children's Fund which works to support children's healthcare, primarily assisting in paying for cardiac surgeries. (I think.) Says David:

"I am looking forward to gathering with all my friends for the second annual David Ortiz Celebrity Golf Tournament. It is a wonderful opportunity to showcase my home country - the Dominican Republic - while raising money for children who can't afford the healthcare they need. Everyone who participates is making a difference in the lives of these children."

From the photos of last year's event, it was a stunning location.

2. A little bit closer to home (and somewhat less breathtaking), Manny Delcarmen will host his bowling event at King's Back Bay on Dalton St. on Halloween.

Total BFF.

Brad Mills interviewed for the Houston Astros managerial job this morning and was subsequently interviewed by the Houston Chronicle about the interview. From the tone of his responses, I'd guess that he thinks it went well. But the quote at the end about Francona:

"I might be a little prejudice, but I think Terry’s one of the best managers in the game today. He’s one of the best managers. One of the reasons he is, is because his work ethic is second to none. He plans and prepares each day with the players. That’s one of the things I’m going to take with him. His knowledge of the game, the way he manages a game, the way he runs a game, the way he works with the press, the way he works in the community and the way he works with the organizations. Those types of things really make him stand out from other guys that I know or I have seen. Those are all traits that I’ve taken from him and learned from him.”

while not the most eloquent, warms my heart.

Silence.

For a week or so, there has been nothing to right about. Nothing. It's been so devoid of anything interesting to write about that I seriously considered writing up that Kevin Youkilis went on a Sam Adams tour. Yup. Thrilling bit of information there.

I've been trying to watch the ALCS but since every team that I have rooted for since the beginning of the post season has seemingly forgotten how to play baseball, I've decided to try something different. Let's go Yankees! Clap! Clap! Clapclapclap!

As for the NLCS, I'm torn. I'd like Petey to get another ring with the Phillies but I also wouldn't be opposed to the Dodgers winning the whole thing so that someone could give Doug Mintkiewicz the damn ball.

Boston? You're My Home.

John Farrell, it seems, will be returning to the Sox next year. Having turned down the job as manager of Cleveland, telling the Cleveland Plain Dealer:

"It's an honor to be considered for the job. Especially for a team I played for, my father played for and where there are so many people I know and respect. All those things considered, my desire is to fulfill the commitment between Boston and myself.

"There's no denying there is an intent to manage at some time. But I have a mutual commitment with Boston that I feel I should fulfill."

It's pretty clear that he had no PR flackie write his statement for him. You can hear the convoluted syntax that he often uses, especially in the first sentence of the second paragraph.

I've got no problem with Farrell and the pitchers seem to like him, so it's probably a good thing that he'll be back. As for Cleveland, they might want to strongly consider Bogar; three years ago he was successful as their AA manager. (Of course, Eric Wedge was also a good minor league manager.)

Turning Japanese.

Could the Red Sox have their collective eye on yet another Japanese pitcher? Reports have it that they will meet with Yusei Kikuchi (an 18-year-old lefty with a fastball that reaches 95 mph) early next week to discuss the possibility of him playing stateside.

It'll be interesting to see how the whole thing plays out and the ramifications that might result from the kid skipping the draft.

A Little Bright Spot.

Admittedly, melancholy has settled in over the past few days. Baseball is over, winter is coming; it's all very depressing. The most clear evidence of my melancholy? I was planning a weekend trip to Portland and the environs and the places I planned to stop were literally cheese shop, chocolate shop, bakery, bakery, and brownie shop. Although it has been easier to get dressed in the morning when I can just pull things out of the closet without worrying about the amount of luck that was woven into the fabric. (I told you that I had issues.)

So where does one find joy when baseball is over and over rather cruelly? In the lack of suckiness from Mr. Clay Buchholz in that last game. It was a good outing for any pitcher and for a pitcher who seemed to be prone to the yips, it was a remarkable performance. And yeah, he seemed to get a little bit into his head when he loaded the bases without nobody out but other than that he seemed to be in control.

Said Clay:

"I didn't feel as nervous in the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th inning. It was a good thing. It was a game that I felt like I could pitch in. I've been on this club for parts of three years now, and hadn't been able to make a postseason appearance, so it was fun for me."

And (about being in next season's rotation)

"I'll take the job, and be up here all season next year, and actually be a part of the team for a full season, and go to the postseason, and make next year better than this year. That's my goal."

I'm growing to really like that goofy looking kid.

Home for the Holidays.

Well that sucked.

Here I was thinking that this team had a little bit of life left in them, that the team I had known for this past season had shown up to play today but I guess not. Instead they head home. But hey!If Jason Bay and George Kottaras hop a plane soon enough, they'll be able to eat Thanksgiving dinner at home tomorrow.

I'm actually not overly upset. Disappointed? Sure. Annoyed? You bet. Ready to take a flying leap off the Tobin? No. Or less dramatically, curl up in a ball and cry? Not even that. I am upset that I'll have to deal with overly gracious Yankee fans for the next couple of days but beyond that I'm not feeling much.

I suppose it's because the bats decided to sleep walk through the series. Like I told them before: You can't win if you don't score runs, although I probably should have been clearer and said that they needed to score more runs than their opponent. Oh well, spilled milk and all that.

But if I was going to pick a goat, then it would have to be Don Orsillo. Pap gets two outs, Don mentions that he's never allowed an earned run in the post season, and then he gives up three. Coincidence?

One More Try.

I'm not sure I want to look either, chickpea.

I think the older Miss Bay may have it right. And so just win today. That's all I ask.

Wanted: Baseball Bats and Players Capable of Swinging Them.

I got nothing. But if they were interested, I'd be willing to share the secret of how to win a baseball game with them: Scoring runs, it'll do it for you every time.

Cherubs They Are Not.

You know what? It's late. I'm all jazzed up. And I can be as shallow and as petty as I want.

Later today the Angels roll out Jered Weaver to pitch game 2. Their second entrant in the ugliest starting pitcher contest. I don't think he holds a candle to Hapsburg-jawed, under bite possessor, pointy toothed, tiny eyed, moley, mouth breathing, whiny Lackey but he's a valid entrant. Seriously, who does Weaver's hair? Why does he think a shoulder length bob is a good look, especially when he has hair that thick? I'd have to guess that he cuts it himself because I can't imagine any respectable hair stylist steering him in that direction. And he's got a big nose and thin lips. Their least likely pitcher to win the contest would have to be the moon-faced Pole, Scott Kazmir (I'm just guessing that he's Polish but he looks like any number of my uncles who are all very Polish looking) but he tips the scales more toward plain than in the least bit good looking.

The Angels are truly an ugly-ass squad all around though. Awhile back when I tried to come up with a list of the best looking players in the American League, the best I could do for the Angels was Torii Hunter. But it turns out that Hunter has an ugly soul--despite the fact that he and David are supposed to be really good friends, when David was accused of steroid use, Hunter dropped him like a hot potato (Who would have ever guessed that David would have a better friend in Nomar than in Hunter?)--and he's an idiot--Hunter invested $70,000 in a scheme to make rafts to float furniture during floods. You can't be a jerk and an idiot and good looking at the same time. It's impossible.

And that was mostly my point, to rant about Torii Hunter betraying David and being an ass. I feel better now.

Humbug.

Free tip of the day: Don't brush your teeth while angry. Seriously, I don't know why I do this to myself--not the teeth brushing thing (that's just good dental hygiene) but the staying up late when work beckons in three and a half hours and getting all worked up about a baseball game so that the few hours of sleep that I might get will not be achievable.

That was unpleasant all around. Some games have a feel and from the onset that one felt like a loss. And even when Lester was dealing the feeling never let up. The umpiring didn't help. Ramon Ramirez didn't help. And the lack of hitting didn't help either. In fact, I reached the point where my swearing at the television stopped being actual words and instead became a stream of random syllables spat in its general direction in a cursing fashion. At least for now, there's always tomorrow.

Also, I thought that I'd like Donny O in the booth but I kind of felt like I was being cheated on.

Aged Papi.

I love this man. Can't help it. But David? Your first playoff game was October 4, 2002; Oakland at the Metrodome. You went 0-3, with a strike out. Let's hope for a better showing tonight.

The Sweet Sounds of Donny O.

I rarely listen to national broadcasts to begin with, neither Fox nor ESPN puts out a product that's worth the effort. And Chip Caray manages to piss me off by just breathing. So when Don Orsillo happened to mention that he'd be doing the TBS broadcasts, I was ecstatic. Don is just really good at what he does. He managed to work with a motley crew this past season and, for the most part, make them interesting. Orsillo is also excited about continuing on with the Red Sox:

"Every year it gets great and we go home. This year, for the first time in nine years, it gets good and I'm going. So I'm excited about that."

Awww. But Donny O, I've got a mission for you: Convince Buck that it's Or-TIZ not OR-tiz. Thank you.

Scenes from LA.

AP photos from yesterday's and today's workouts in LA:



No, Papi! No! Baseball gloves aren't for eating.



David Ortiz: Hey! I play first base too. Can I come practice with you guys?
Victor and Youkilis try not to laugh.



Pedroia: Nu-unh, Mr. Beckett. It wasn't me who stole your glove. I swear. It was...Jed. Jed way over there that did it. Honest.




Pedroia thinks: You know, if this whole baseball thing doesn't end up working out. I could have a kick ass career as a smoldering underwear model.




At least Daisuke Matsuzaka thinks I'm funny.

The Bard.

It seems that every year come playoff time some player or another is roped into writing a blog. Why? I don't know. With the exception of Pedroia's and Masterson's, they're never particularly successful. They're almost always poorly written and they're not insightful, let alone interesting. (Pedroia's WBC blog was not well written but it was interesting and while Justin Masterson's only had occasional syntactical stumbles, it did suffer from lack of focus every once in awhile but because he is quite possibly the sweetest person to ever walk the face of the Earth--and I'm not prone to hyperbole--I'm willing to forgive and I'll gladly read about his trip to the outlet mall.)

This year's victim is Daniel Bard, who does not live up to his last name. It's not the best. The syntax is often awkward but given that it was spoken, that can be ignored. What he writes is all pretty obvious. But it's mostly just not interesting. Maybe when he actually has something to write about it will go better.

Down Time.

Your baseball season ended yesterday. You've got until February before you need to pitch again. So what do you do with your free time between now and then? If you're Brad Penny, then you go cheer on your buddy Chuck Liddell as he competes on Dancing with the Stars.

At least, I think it was him. I don't watch the show but with no baseball on I was flipping channels and morbid curiosity persuaded me to stop. After Liddell was done dancing they panned through the audience and I'm fairly certain that they showed Penny in profile. He was wearing a dark suit and a bright yellow tie. I'm certain enough to write about it here with out trying to confirm. The real question would be does he make a habit out of attending?

Even when he was having a hell of time throwing a strike, I liked Penny and his sweaty, sweaty hair. He was very charming.

California Dreamin.

The Sox left for California this afternoon and what better send off could there be than to make fun of their outfits?



Would you check out those gams? That boy has a very shapely leg. And really nice shoes. Someone ought to tell him how to wear a French cuff, though. Puffy sleeves are not attractive.



I suppose that we can give Victor the benefit of the doubt and pretend that the stripes on his suit are brown. And while his belt and his shoes do not match (and it appears that he's wearing black socks, too boot) at least he seems to have his priorities straight, making an all important stop at Build-A-Bear before he made his way to the bus.




Besides the fact that Theo is carrying both a backpack and a briefcase (making him look like a young-ish college professor), the only thing moderately interesting about the photo is that apparently his choice of airplane reading material is Harper's Magazine. Although as far as I can tell from looking at their website, not the latest issue.



Even though the pocket square doesn't match and he probably should have resisted the urge to button his suit old man cardigan style (just doing the top button), David Ortiz is able to rock the suit. It's a beautiful jacket.



And Francona. I'll just say that the difference in quality between Ortiz's jacket and Francona's jacket is stunning.

Mr. Mean.

The Projo has a nice little article on exactly what Victor Martinez meant to his former teammates. Essentially, they seem to feel that without Martinez, Cleveland became a rudderless ship. And that they were treading water waiting for someone to take charge. It has to be difficult: To be sputtering along and suddenly find yourself in a class of organic chemistry students without a teacher that's still expected to pass the final.

And to see his affect on the Red Sox clubhouse you need to look no further than David Ortiz. Victor Martinez comes over and shares elaborate handshakes with David and Papi starts hitting again for real. Plus, he seems like just a really good guy in general.

The reason I bring it up though is Martinez's description of Jason Varitek:

“You play against him, and he looks kind of mean. That’s the way he plays. He’s one of the guys I always looked up to. He’s pretty smart, he knows what he’s doing, and all the things he’s done for this organization, no one’s going to take that away from him."

“When I got here, it kind of surprised me, because I never knew that was the kind of person that he is. He’s great, great. He’s been there for me the whole time.

It made me smile because that was the impression that I had of Varitek, as well. I could imagine him being a bully when he was in school and I can't imagine anyone ever telling him to "go suck an egg." When, in reality, he's not a bad guy; he's a decent human being--albeit one with flaws.