For Love of the Game.

The Negro League Baseball Museum in Kansas City, MO serves an important purpose and teaches an important lesson. Mike Cameron, who was there last night for the Legacy Awards, had this to say about the museum:

"The first time I came here, the first thing I wanted to do is come out on the field [an exhibition in the museum]. But you have to understand the history of what these players represent and what they went through. When you walk through here and you see their suitcases and the beds they had to sleep in and the sacrifices they made just for the opportunity to stand 60 feet 6 inches away and chase a little ball around and get dirty. These were people that genuinely cherished the game, day-in and day-out."

It would appear, though, that the museum is in financial trouble. It would be a shame if the museum had to lessen the availability of their message because of the economy. It would be a tragedy if they had to do the same because of office politics.

Happy Talk.

Baseball Prospectus has an interview with Justin Masterson. He continues to come across as a ridiculously sweet, caring individual and, as arrogant as it possibly is, I continue to feel the need to protect him. He talks about the trade and how Francona was on the verge of tears when he told him, being closer to home, and his hope for this season's Cleveland team.

I really think that Sweetums would be a perfect nickname for Masterson, especially if he were to try to grow out his hair again. The people of Cleveland need to get on it.

Going Home.

Yesterday, Tim Wakefield's golf tournament kicked off in Florida.

And last night Dustin Pedroia went home to Woodland, CA to help raise funds for improvements to a baseball field.

Number Eighteen: Kismet.

1946. 1967. 1975. 1986.

Perhaps, it's a little Puritanical to wallow in those years of failure; a psychologist might insist that it was unhealthy. It seems important, though, to remember who we were and just how good things are now. Those were teams that just weren't quite good enough or lucky enough. They were teams that broke your heart and tested your faith.

1946: The Sox had won game one, lost game two, won game three, lost game four, won game five, and lost game six. If they were to continue with their pattern, then they should have had game seven in the bag. Going into the eighth inning in St. Louis, however, the Cardinals led 3-1. Rip Russel pinch hit for the Sox and got a single. Catfish Metkovich pinch hit and hit a double, which moved Russel to third. Wally Moses struck out. Johnny Pesky lined out. Down by two, tying run in scoring position, and two outs, Dom DiMaggio tied the game with a double. But hurt his hamstring on the play and had to be pinch run for. Ted Williams ended the inning with a popfly to second.

Bottom of the eighth. Enos Slaughter started it off with a single. Sox pitcher Bob Klinger then got two outs, a popfly he handled himself and a fly ball to left. Harry Walker came to the plate and hit a double to centerfield. Remember that Dom DiMaggio, who was an excellent centerfielder, had been removed from the game. His replacement, Leon Culberson, wasn't the fielder DiMaggio was and didn't have his arm. He threw the ball in to Pesky and Pesky threw home but Slaughter, who had been booking around from first, got there first.

That's not to say, of course, that the Sox didn't have their chances in the ninth inning. They led off the inning with a pair of singles and had the tying run at third with one out. But a foul ball off first and a ground out brought on the winter for the 1946 Red Sox.

1967: The 1967 Sox didn't do their best Keystone Kops impression during the World Series. There was no gaff that made it's way into bedtime stories throughout New England. The Sox lost game one, won game two, lost games three and four, and then won games five and six. And facing St. Louis' Bob Gibson in game seven, they were just out pitched.

1975: 1975 brought the return of the bumbling World Series Sox. Luis Tiant cruised to a complete game shut-out in game one. Bill Lee had allowed one run in eight innings in game two when he allowed a double to start the ninth inning. Dick Drago was called upon to relieve him and got two outs; then he gave up a single to tie the game and a double to blow the save.

Game three was all about Carlton Fisk. He got the first hit of the game in the second inning when he hit a home run. The Reds took the lead in the bottom of the fourth with a two-run home run from Johnny Bench. They added on in the fifth with two more home runs off of Rick Wise and a Joe Morgan sacrifice fly to make the score 5-1, Reds. The Sox got one back in the sixth on a Fred Lynn sacrifice fly and another back in the seventh on a Bernie Carbo home run. They tied it in the ninth, 5-5, on a two-run shot by Dwight Evans. In the bottom of the tenth inning, the Reds had a man on first and attempted to sacrifice him over to second. It was a bad bunt; the batter, Ed Armbrister, was lallygagging in the base path, Fisk's throw on the force out sailed over Rick Burleson's head, and the runners were on second and third with no outs because Armbrister wasn't called out on interference. The Reds won on a Joe Morgan single.

Luis Tiant came to the rescue again in game four, throwing a complete game for a 5-4 win. Game five didn't go as well; the Reds won 6-2. Game six returned to Fenway and the Sox lived to see another day in twelve innings thanks to a Bernie Carbo home run, a spectacular Dwight Evans catch and a relatively famous Carlton Fisk home run.

The Sox came up short again in game seven. The Sox scored three runs in the on a Yaz single and two consecutive bases-loaded walks. Bill Lee made it through six and two-thirds before tossing an eephus pitch that ended up in the stands and bringing the Reds two runs closer. They tied it in the seventh on a Pete Rose single. And won it in the ninth on a Joe Morgan single.

1986: Game one at Shea Stadium in 1986 was a pitchers duel; Bruce Hurst and Ron Darling traded zeros allowing one unearned (by Darling) between them. In game two, Clemens kept the Mets at bay while Dwight Gooden gave up six runs in five innings. Game three didn't go quite as smoothly as Oil Can Boyd gave up four runs in the first. The Sox couldn't match Ron Darling in game four and ended up losing 6-2. Bruce Hurst came to the rescue in game five, keeping the Mets to two runs in a complete game effort.

Game six was unfortunate. It was a sloppy game to start with; there were five errors between the two teams. Roger Clemens gave up two runs in seven innings and going into the bottom of the eighth the Sox had a 3-2 lead. Calvin Schiraldi relieved Clemens. He gave up a single, a bunt single, a sacrifice bunt, an intentional walk, and a sacrifice fly to tie the score. Okay. Fine. Whatever. We go to the top of the tenth. Dave Henderson hits a home run--Sox have the lead. Spike Owen strikes outs. Calvin Schiraldi strikes out. Wade Boggs doubles and Marty Barrett singles him in--the Sox lead is 5-3. Bottom of the tenth. Calvin Schiraldi gets two outs. He then gives up a single, and a single, and a single. Score: 5-4. Bob Stanley comes in to relieve Schiraldi. Stanley throws a wild pitch to Mookie Wilson and the score is tied. With his balky knees Bill Buckner should have been pulled for a defensive replacement. Bob Stanley doesn't get over to cover first and Wilson's single becomes infamous.

Game seven started out promisingly enough. The Sox scored three in the second and the Mets didn't tie the game until the sixth inning. Schiraldi gave up a home run in the bottom of the seventh, a single, an RBI single, and a sacrifice bunt. Joe Sambito in an effort to relieve Schiraldi gave up two walks to load the bases and a sacrifice fly before getting a ground out to end the inning. Mets lead 6-3. The Sox made some noise in the eighth; in the form of a single, a single, and a two-run double by Dwight Evans. Score: 5-6. During the bottom of the eighth, Darryl Strawberry hit a home run and Jesse Orosco had an RBI single. Final score: 8-5.

I am not a glutton for punishment. It's good to remember these things. Now, if you'll pardon me, I'm going to go drown my sorrows.

Corrections.

Baseball Prospectus has decided that their PECOTA rankings from the other day were incorrect and has issued a revised version. They changed the AL East to move Boston and New York into a tie for first place (93 wins) with Tampa falling to third (92 wins). But all three teams are still neck and neck and neck.

I've also corrected the date in my original post.

The Steel Driving Award.

Jacoby Ellsbury may have chosen to not attend the Legacy Awards at the Negro League Baseball Museum tonight to collect his James "Cool Papa" Bell Award but there will be a representative of the Red Sox there. Mike Cameron will be receiving the John Henry "Pop" Lloyd Award for baseball and community leadership. Congratulations to him.

Number Nineteen: Carlton Fisk.

Carlton Fisk was a once-in-a-lifetime talent. He could do it all; he could hit, he could run, he could call a good game, he was as tough as a bear, and he was durable as all get out--the man caught regularly until he was forty-three and hung around until he was forty-five. He made the All-Star team eleven times.

In 1972, he hit .293 with twenty-eight doubles, nine triples, and twenty-two home runs. He was recognized with the Rookie of the Year, fourth place in MVP voting, a gold glove, and his first All Star appearance for his efforts that season. The image of him willing that ball fair in the 1975 World Series is iconic.

Good Eggs.

Tim Wakefield will be hosting his golf tournament for the Space Coast Early Intervention Center down in Florida this weekend. Since its inception the fundraiser has raised almost $6 million for the school. It would seem to be a good, useful program. What's more, Wake sends his own kids there after school. Timmy is a good person who deserves to be treated with respect.

Meanwhile, battery mate Victor Martinez isn't willing to disappoint a little girl either. There was still apparently unfinished business for him in Cleveland. Last year he had agreed to be part of a radio contest where the winner got to bring him to school, presumably for show-and-tell. Unfortunately for the contest's winner, Victor was traded to Boston before they could settle on a date for the visit. So today he trekked up to Cleveland to complete his part of the bargain.

Say it with me: Awww.

The Great PECOTA.

It's time to party like it's 2008.

PECOTA released their 2010 rankings yesterday. And while they make my frigid little heart just a little bit happier, they do seem somewhat unbelievable. They have the East lining up: Tampa (96 wins), Boston (95 wins), New York (93 win), Baltimore (79 wins), and Toronto (71). I can see that. If Theo's scheme works, then I could see it coming down to the wire between the three teams at the top. The Sox also face Tampa and New York a combined nine times in September/October, which could be either exhilarating or painful.

But I think things get a little screwy in their predictions for the AL West. Obviously, they haven't had a big off season (Joel Pinero *tilde implied* and Matsui being their big pick ups) but I find it hard to believe that the Angels would finish under .500. I think Texas might disappoint again; their pitching was improved last year but they did seem to wilt toward the end of the season. If I had to pick someone to win the West beside picking the Angels, then I'd probably go with Seattle; they might not really be able to hit too much but they can pitch and they can defend. And maybe I'm biased by the fact that without looking it up, I can't really name any of Oakland's infield but I don't see them finishing in first. In my defense, I do do better with the outfield (2 out of 3; Rajai Davis, Covelli, and the other guy). I've got four out of five names for the starting rotation (Sheets--who is a nice pickup, if he can be, you know, not broken, Brett Anderson, Dallas Braden, and Justin Duchscherer). Their 'pen has Craig Breslow, Josh Outman (remembered solely for the name), and Andrew Bailey. I do know that their catcher is Kurt Suzuki.

The Central does seem to be a draw from the hat. The Royals won't win and barring some astounding miracle neither will Cleveland. Both Detroit and Chicago would appear to be able to pitch but might run into some trouble with the hitting aspect of baseball. Which leaves Minnesota; they can pitch a little bit and they can hit a little bit, which might just be enough to win the Central.

I don't know if baseball can get here soon enough.

Number Twenty: Curt Schilling.

Curt Schilling believes in God and the Republican party. He's not very deep and he's not very smart. I doubt that he's ever had a second thought about an opinion he's held or that he's ever been wrong (or willing to admit it). Curt thinks very highly of himself and I don't think that anyone would ever make the mistake of calling him a shrinking violet. These are things that you just have to accept and move on from because of the many things Curt was, one was an excellent pitcher.

He arrived in a flurry of Dunkin and truck ads, a man on a mission. And whats more, he accomplished that mission. He physically punished himself (more than the average ballplayer) for his teammates and, possibly, his own glory on his way to that goal. And he did it all with a certain flair.

There's not a whole lot more that needs to be said about him.

Number Twenty-One: Theo Epstein.

It's hard to argue with results and the results say that Theo Epstein is good at his job. He may be a ruthless, cold-hearted bastard without a sentimental bone in his body but his job is to put together a championship-caliber team and he has done that consistently.

Theo doesn't care a whit about what the fans think. He doesn't have to; we're wrapped around his pinky finger. He doesn't need to justify low-balling a player by making up concerns about balky knees. He's got an entire region eating out of the palm of his hand.

He does have his quirks. There was the all J team that they could have fielded the year before last (left to right): Outfield: Jason Bay, Jacoby Ellsbury, JD Drew; infield: Joe Thurston, Julio Lugo, Jed Lowrie, Jeff Bailey, and Jason Varitek; with six innings from Jon Lester, the seventh inning from Javier Lopez, the eighth from Justin Masterson, and closed out by Jonathan Papelbon. He's now collecting all of the Ramon Ramirezzes in baseball.

He does love his draft picks and the players they eventually turn into; maybe sometimes a little too much. Theo's guys do have a long leash. And he may value some of his guys more highly than they deserve. He will make a move when he has to, though.

I can't criticize the guy.

Six is the New Five.

Prior to receiving his award last night at the B.A.T. dinner in New York, Tim Wakefield gave an interview which CSNNE put on their website.

Always a gentleman would be a good way to describe Timmeh. He does charity work because he cares and he's honored to be recognized for doing it. His back is better and he's on schedule for the start of spring training. He's sad to see Bay go but the organization did a nice job of putting together a new team. And he plans on starting next season.

Number Twenty-Two: Dennis Eckersley.

Dennis Eckersley is a man with a big personality, a lively fastball, and his own language. (I really did enjoy listening to him this past summer.) He played baseball for twenty-four seasons and in that time he threw a lot of strikes as both a starter and a closer.

Eck came to the Sox from Cleveland in 1978. He won twenty games that year and threw sixteen complete games. In 1979 he won seventeen games and threw seventeen complete games; in fact, he threw seven complete games in a row from July 11 to August 9. He was less effective after that and in May of 1984 he was traded to the Cubs for Bill Buckner.

Alcohol proved to be a problem for him and his performance in Chicago suffered for it. He got himself clean after the 1985 season but was still ineffective. He then found himself traded to Oakland in 1987, where he was cast as a reliever. Injury forced him into the closer's role and he excelled. He saved forty-five games in 1988 and fifty-one games in 1992.

He came back to Boston in 1998 for a last hurrah. He went 4-1, mainly as a middle-reliever. He was elected to the Hall of Fame in 2004.

And We're Back.

NESN announced their spring training broadcast schedule today. They've got nine games this spring: March 3, 7, 13, 14, 17, 20, 21, 28, and 29. ESPN will pick up the games on March 30 and April 1. Can't come soon enough.

And Then There Were None.

Jeremy Hermida and the Red Sox have agreed to a contract for next season. Hermida will make $3.345 million. I'm not super impressed with the idea of Hermida but I guess that it's not a bad deal.

Number Twenty-Three: Joe Wood.

Smoky Joe Wood pitched for Boston between 1908 and 1915. In those eight years he won 117 games, which isn't terribly impressive (14.8 wins a year). What is impressive is that he threw 121 complete games. He threw thirty-five of them in 1912; he won thirty-four games that season. And in those eight years, only once did his ERA rise above 2.50 (2.62 in 1914). He won three games (with one loss) in the 1912 World Series and struck out eleven batters in game one of the series.

At that time, pitchers weren't the precious commodity that they now are and injury curtailed what might have been an absolutely mind-blowing career. That and the gambling. In 1926 he was accused by Dutch Leonard of betting on a game that he, Leonard, Ty Cobb, and Tris Speaker had conspired to fix on September 25, 1919. Both Leonard and Wood were out of the game when the allegations came to light but Cobb and Speaker were cleared of any wrong doing.

Wood spent 1923-1942 coaching the baseball team at Yale University. He died in July of 1985 at the age of 95.

Man on the Move.

Tomorrow night in New York City Tim Wakefield will be honored for his community service by the Baseball Assistance Team with the Bart Giamatti Award. Wake will be honored for his work with Franciscan Hospital of Boston, the Jimmy Fund, and the Space Coast Early Intervention Center. Also attending the dinner will be Fred Lynn, former best beloved Craig Breslow, Mike Stenhouse, and Tito Francona.

And then on Sunday, February 7, Wakey will be back home and act as an official race starter for both the full and the half marathon at the Melbourne & Beaches Music Marathon down in Melbourne, Florida.

Also, word is that Timmeh is working on a memoir about "how he revived his career by mastering the knuckleball, as well as a behind-the-scenes stories from Boston's two World Series Championship teams." Unfortunately, he's working with Tony Massarotti.

Just Ducky.

I liked Jason Bay. He seemed like a nice guy. If he wants to be sullen and spend time and effort justifying why he's playing for the Mets--well, I can understand that. The Mets are a disaster and I feel for the guy. The whole Rob Bradford piece came across as sour grapes and was best ignored, though. But The Sporting News has a sweet little story from Bay's last stint with the Mets and Jose Reyes:

"He didn't speak one word of English, I didn't speak one lick of Spanish," Bay recalls. "We stayed at a hotel that was about five blocks from the ballpark. I knocked on his door every day at 2. 'Are you ready?' He'd say, 'Yep, yep, yep.' We'd walk to the park and not say one word because we couldn't. When the game was over, we'd shower up and I'd say, 'You ready?' 'Yep, yep, yep.' We walked back to the hotel or get some food. I ended up being his off-the-field chaperon.

"Because of that, I followed his career more than most people would think. When the Red Sox played an exhibition at Citi Field last year, I was talking to him about how his English had gotten a lot better. He got a big smile and said, 'Yep, yep, yep.'"

Aww.

There's No Crying in Baseball.

One of my favorite people in all of baseball is Curtis Granderson. He's intelligent, genuine, thoughtful, and a generally good human being. I didn't know how I was going to be able to root against him now that he's with the Yankees. But if the thought of playing for the Yankees brings tears to his eyes, then I might not have to dislike him.

Number Twenty-Four: Dirty Water.

This post was supposed to be about Wade Boggs. See, it's my Dad's birthday and Boggs was one of his all-time favorites (before he went to the Yankees, obviously) and it seemed appropriate when I wrote out the list. But I just can't bring myself to write anything nice about him. So I came up with a substitute. It might not be very good but it'll have to do.

It's a simple little song, albeit one with (unless they're singing about German bankers) a strange little lyric. But it'll make you happy and that's good enough for me.

Number Twenty-Five: Bobby Doerr.

Bobby Doerr spent fourteen seasons as Boston's slick-fielding second baseman, who could also hit. He played fifty-five games in 1937, became a regular in 1938, and with the exception of 1945 (when he served in the Army) he hung around until 1951. From 1939 until his career ended his OPS+ never dropped below 100, he hit no fewer than twelve home runs in a season, he never struck out more than sixty-seven times in a season, and he appeared in nine all star games. In the 1946 World Series he had nine hits, a double, and a home run.

After he retired from baseball he became a scout for the Sox from 1957-1966. In 1967, he became their first base coach a position he held until 1969. He was inducted into the Hall of Fame by the Veteran's committee in 1988.

Hanging 'Em Up.

Mark Loretter is reportedly going to call it quits next week to take a front office job somewhere. Loretta didn't have a fabulous year with the Sox in 2006; he did hit for a decent average but without much power and without a lot of walks. He did hit his very first walk off home run against Seattle on Patriot's Day 2006, though. Best of luck to him.

A Conflict.

During spring training last year, Javier Lopez and Manny Delcarmen gave an interview where they poked fun at Jonathan Papelbon for having an actual checklist of things he had to do before a game. It struck me immediately as a tool that would have been given to him as part of an IEP at some point during his education. If I'm right about him, then Papelbon may want to invest in a secretary. You see, he has apparently agreed to appear at the First Pitch Banquet for the baseball program at Mississippi State University on February 18. The problem is that that date also happens to be when pitchers and catchers report to Fort Myers. I guess that it's conceivable that he really, really wanted to go and he planned on flying back to Mississippi for the night and that I'm wrong about him.

School Days.

Part of me wishes that I had done something impressive while I was in high school so that I could have my name on a plaque or on a banner somewhere in that building for posterity. But I was a quiet, studious kid; the closest I came to notoriety was the National Merit Competition but in the end I didn't even qualify as a finalist. It's been awhile since I've been back there but I suspect now that they must have changed the banners out every ten years or so anyway as none of the records were particularly old. So it' no great loss.

Someone who will always be remembered at his high school is Mr. Bronson Arroyo. Some kid fifty years from now will be playing for the Hernando High School baseball team in Brooksville, FL and ask to wear number 1 and his coach will say "Sorry kid. Bronson Arroyo wore number 1. It's retired." And the kid will say "Bronson who? The guy wore the number seventy years ago. If he didn't screw up his heart because of the drugs he took, then he's probably a doddering, old man who can't tell his ass from his elbow." [Aside: If you think kids today are rude and self-centered, just wait until you meet the ones fifty years from now.]

It's nice to be remembered, though.

Talkin' Baseball.

The Cambridge Center for Adult Education will be hosting a series of lectures called "Home Run in Harvard Square." The classes start on January 28 when Peter Gammons takes to the lectern. No word on his topic. Jed Lowrie has also agreed to lead one of the other sessions.

Number Twenty-Six: David Ortiz.

On January 22, 2003 David Ortiz signed with the Red Sox. That year, he blossomed. Could it have been the drugs? Probably. I'm not naive enough to say that a man who came from nothing and saw opportunity slipping away when he was released by the Twins, could turn things around with a few tweaks to his batting stance. But he has been tested repeatedly under the new regimen and has always come out clean and his batting stance is important; when a little thing is off, the whole thing goes wrong.

For a post season home run there haven't been many people more valuable than David:

2003 ALCS
October 8: Two run home run off of Mike Mussina in the fourth inning to make the score 2-0.
October 16: Home run off of David Wells in the eighth to make the score 5-2. But the less said about that game the better.

2004 ALDS
October 8: Two run opposite field walk off home run off Jarrod Washburn in the tenth to complete the sweep of the Angels.

2004 ALCS
October 17: Two run walk off in the twelfth inning off Paul Quantrill to start the comeback.
October 18: Not a home run but brought in the first run of the game with a single off of Mike Mussina and scored the second run when Mussina walked Varitek with the bases loaded. Bottom of the eighth, he hit a home run off Tom Gordon to bring the Sox back within one. And the bottom of the fourteenth, with two out and two on Ortiz singled in a run to keep them around one more day.
October 20: Two run home run in the first inning off of Kevin Brown.

He was the series MVP.

2004 WS
October 23: A bottom of the first three-run home run off of Woody Williams.
2005 ALDS
October 7: Ortiz hit of first of three home runs given up by Freddy Garcia (Manny had the other two) but it wasn't enough to save the team from being swept by the White Sox.

2007 ALDS
October 3: Two-run home run off John Lackey in the bottom of the third.
October 7: Top of the fourth, a home run off of Jared Weaver to start the scoring.

2007 ALCS
October 16: Wake imploded in the fifth inning and Manny Del didn't help out too much (7 runs between them) but Youkilis hit a home run to start off the sixth, David followed it up with one of his own, and Manny followed suit for the three runs the Sox got that day.

2008 ALCS
October 16: Once more on the verge of elimination, David came through again. The Rays' were leading by seven when their bullpen, which had been a strength during the season, suddenly started taking on water in the bottom of the seventh inning. Lowrie doubled and then scored on a single by Pedroia and then David hit a three-run home run to make the score 7-4.

And that's all she wrote.

Number Twenty-Seven: Tony Conigliaro.

Tony Conigliaro was a supernova. It's a story you want to believe in: Local boy, gets drafted out of high school, gets to the bigs quickly, and makes an immediate impact. He was a star. He was destined for the Hall of Fame. He crowded the plate.

August 18,1967. Angels at Red Sox. Bottom of the fourth inning, two down. Jack Hamilton came inside with his first pitch to Tony C. and hit him in the head. His left cheekbone cracked. His jaw was dislocated. His retina in his left eye was badly damaged; with 20-300 vision he was legally blind in his left eye.

He came back in 1969 and it wasn't a bad season. He had a resurgence in 1970; he hit thirty-six home runs and had 116 RBI. And then in some sick twist of fate he was traded to the Angels for Doug Griffin, Jarvis Tatum, and Ken Tatum. California didn't work out and eventually he made his way back to the Sox in 1975. He made it into twenty-one games as a DH but there wasn't anything left.

January 9, 1982. A heart attack. A clot. His brain is deprived of oxygen for fourteen minutes and he falls into a coma. A fighter, he wakes up but there's severe brain damage. He survives eight years until he succumbs to renal failure on February 24, 1990.

S-O-C-K-S.

That is some fast Spanish. And it's an accent I've never heard; instead of lisping the 's' he just drops it.

The response of "Good. Thank you." to the question "¿Cómo estás?" made me smile but someone should tell him that 'good' is not an adverb and 'well' would be a better answer.

Anyway, they start ingraining their cliches relatively early. Say Jose Iglesias about when he sees himself arriving in the big leagues:

"Que es lo que diga como: Me preocupo que controlo, y contolo es trabajar [something indecipherable]"

Meaning:

"This is what they said: I worry about things I can control and I can control working hard (probably)."

Now they just need to tell him what a big deal "It is what it is" is; roughly "Eso si que es."

Number Twenty-Eight: Jerry Remy and Don Orsillo.

I wouldn't say that I was ever sick of Jerry Remy. There was a time when the self-promotion got a little out of hand and that Rhode Island accent could drive a sane person to kick puppies but, as is often the case, most of the time you don't realize just how wonderful a thing you've got until it's gone. And when Jerry was gone last year it became obvious just how much he is the soul of that broadcasting duo.

I really liked Eckersley's commentary. I liked Dave Roberts' commentary--his crush on Ellsbury was adorable. I thought Don Orsillo did a fabulous job of building a rapport with whomever he happened to be sitting next to that day. But the two of them together far surpass anybody else.

Intelligent, insightful, knowledgeable, often humorous commentary makes for must-see T.V. Almost to the point where I've considered recording a game I've attended in person, not so that I can see if I was on television but so that I don't miss anything.

And so Jerry Remy and Don Orsillo get spot twenty-eight on the list.

(And yes, I do see the hypocrisy in lifting a photo from the Remy Report in the same post I complained about it.)

Oh, the Irony.

Jason Varitek, bless him, doesn't always give the best interviews; he has a slightly goofy voice, he seems to really be thinking as he speaks, and he puts words together in a weird, sometimes indecipherable manner. The idea of watching an entire eleven minute interview can seem somewhat onerous. But this eleven minute interview has a payoff, albeit a payoff that comes four minutes into the interview. Asked about how his role as team captain changes now that he's not an everyday player, Varitek responds:

"I think my voice now goes to complete mute. And, um, you all of a sudden go from a level of respect to absolutely none at all.

Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer.

Here's a tip, though: Unless it's completely inappropriate, never apologize for making a joke and never explain a joke. If they don't get, then they don't get it; explaining only makes everybody feel dumb.

Number Twenty-Nine: The Red Seat.

Section 42, Row 37, Seat 21.

On June 9, 1946, the Sox were playing a double header against Detroit. During the first game Fred Hutchinson threw Ted Williams a change up. Williams walloped the ball and sent it 502 feet into the right field bleachers.

And the Rest. Almost.

Sean McAdam has Manny Delcarmen agreeing to a $905,000 deal with a $15,000 incentive for sixty-five appearances and Ramon Ramirez signing for $1.175 million.

Which leaves Jeremy Hermida as the lone hold out.

I Hear With My Little Ear.

Someone seems to be whispering in Rob Bradford's ear that a one-year deal for Jonathan Papelbon has been reached. He has the deal at around $9 million. I would think that would be enough to keep Pap in duck hunting gear for a year.

Number Thirty: Joe Morgan.

Things were bleak in Boston during the summer of 1988. Governor Dukakis was ineffectively running for president and the Sox got off to a 43-42 start. Wade Boggs was being sued for palimony and some of his teammates might be embarrassed if certain photos came to light. Going into the All-Star break the team had a five game set in Chicago; they lost the first, won the second, lost the third, won the forth, and lost the fifth. Manager Joe McNamara was fired and Joe Morgan (not that one) was made the interim manager.

And then something happened. The disappointing team won twelve straight after the All-Star break. They dropped one in Texas but then won seven more in a row. Between July 16 and August 3, they moved from fourth place up to first. They fell back to second place the next day and stayed there until September 4 when they beat the Angels. They didn't relinquish first for the rest of the season and finished with an 89-73 record, 1 game ahead of Detroit. They were swept out of the post season by the A's.

Morgan managed for three more seasons with okay results; the 1989 team went 83-79, the 1990 team went 88-74 (but were again swept out of the post season by Oakland), and the 1991 team went 84-78. But maybe because of the summer of 1988 or maybe just because he was a local guy, Joe Morgan was a legend.

Blame Mr. Goba.

I know a lot less about Venezuela than I thought I did. I thought that Chavez ruled the country with an iron fist (which he does in many ways) but the paper this Marco Scutaro interview appeared in seems to be independent. And then I thought for sure that the equator ran through Venezuela but it would appear to sit completely north of the line. Apparently my 7th grade geography lessons have either failed me or have been completely forgotten but I do know one thing for certain: Winter ball is a big deal in Venezuela.

For the past fifteen years Marco Scutaro has played for the Caracas Lions but didn't this year and as the season draws to a close the Caracas paper The Universal was on the case. He told the paper that it was a little sad not being able to play and a little boring sitting at home but he was a free agent and he had to think about not only getting a contract but also about his future. He hasn't really talked with the Lions this season but he's happy for them and believes that they can win the championship for the fans after they let them down last season. Apparently Marco's dream scenario of the last two teams standing (Caracas and Magallanes) is a possibility and he's a bit misty-eyed over the prospect. It will apparently be a spectacular game that will cause the country to come to a standstill and will be taken note of by the entire world. And he would play if he could but he can't.

He's ready for the Major League season to start. (Aren't we all?) He wants to get to spring training so he can start the new challenge in his career. He took less money to play in Boston (the interviewer asked why he didn't get a better contract after the season he had in Toronto) so that he would have a shot at the post-season and what better team could there be to try and do that than with Boston? From his experience playing with Oakland in 2006, he says that it's marvelous to play for a team that has a shot at the post-season. He's in constant contact with countryman Victor Martinez. Victor told him that he had to sign and after he did it seemed that Victor was happier about it than Marco was. They're good friends because they started their careers together with Cleveland. He doesn't care where he bats in the lineup, he just wants to play. He's always thought that his job was to get on base and run the bases well and to score runs; that's what he intends to do where ever he's hitting. He doesn't know yet where Francona will put him but he'll adapt.

He also says that the Blue Jays told him that they were rebuilding and didn't think that they would be able to compete during that time. And they were sorry that he was leaving them. And he loves Venezuelan ball and he will be back every season until his health doesn't allow him to play anymore.

Number Thirty-One: Joe Cronin.

Joe Cronin was a man of many talents; he played, he managed, he was the general manager, and he was president of the American League.

He came to Boston in 1935 to play shortstop and manage the team and did that for eleven years. His best years with the Sox were between 1937 and 1941, when he hit around .300 with some power. He benched himself in 1942 when Johnny Pesky appeared on the scene but he continued to be effective as a pinch hitter. In fact, for his 1943 season he holds the American League record for pinch hit home runs with five of them.

His record as a manager was uneven; in 1942, they went 93-59 but in 1943, they went 68-84. Mostly due to his longevity (he managed for two more years after he quit playing) he holds the Red Sox record for most managerial wins (1,071). He started the 1946 season as a player but was released in June. The parting must have been amicable because he lead his team to a 104-50 record and their first World Series appearance since 1918.

His last season as team manager was 1947, after which he took on the role of general manager. He held that position from 1948-1959. The teams he put together weren't the best and his career as general manager wouldn't be noteworthy except for the fact that he was the guy who resisted integrating the team (thus giving Joe Morgan something to ramble on about).

In January of 1959, Cronin was elected president of the American League and he did that until 1973. His number 4 was retired in 1984 and he died later that year at the age of 77.

Number Thirty-Two: Roger Clemens.

It seems to be generally accepted that Roger Clemens isn't the most saintly of men. He might have some honesty issues, and some fidelity issues, and some not acting like an insane person issues, but back when he was just Roger Clemens and not Roger Clemens + whatever idiotic thing he pumped into his bloodstream, he was a hell of a pitcher.

He was no Pedro Martinez but Clemens in his prime was dominant. In his thirteen seasons in Boston he finished in the top ten of Cy Young voting six times, taking home the prize three times. He won more than sixteen games seven times and he wasn't always playing for a great offensive team. And twice in his career he struck out twenty batters in a game.

And where is he now? In the shower, of course. Make no mistake, besides inspiring that bit of taunting genius, I think he deserves every bit of acrimony sent in his general direction.

Number Thirty-Three: Dom Dimaggio.

Better than his brother Joe.

Dom may not have had his brother's bat nor his brother's panache but he played a mean centerfield. He made the All-Star team seven out of the eleven seasons he was in the game. He didn't have much power but he did lead the league in triples (11), runs (131) and stolen bases (15) in 1950. And he did so while wearing glasses; an inspiration to bespectacled people everywhere.

Don't You Forget About Me.

Jed Lowrie is up in Portland tonight for the Sea Dogs Hot Stove Dinner. While there he spoke with WCHS about his wrist and the team for next season.

Regarding the wrist: He's done everything he was supposed to do for its rehabilitation and is hoping that it works.

Regarding the state of the team: Having good players makes the team better and increases competition amongst the players. And they all want to win.

Nothing too interesting.

Awards.

It's probably not worth mentioning as he's been passed up for the award twice already (and Brandon Roy, the athlete who won both of those years, is again up for the award) but Jacoby Ellsbury has been nominated for the Harry Glickman Professional Athlete of the Year Award at the Oregon Sports Awards. I suppose I could cross my fingers for him.

Heart of Gold.

It's hard to watch the news and not be affected by the photos and stories coming out of Haiti. At the same time, it's hard to reconcile how much help that country needs with the amount of help an average individual can provide. But weren't all average individuals.

One such non-average individual who's lending a helping hand/name is David Ortiz. David is organizing a truck load of canned food, water, other provisions, and medicines to help out the people of Haiti. Says David (my translation):

"This earthquake occurred in our brother country and we're obligated to arrange a truck load of food and medicines for the victims of this devastating phenomenon. It's my way of doing my part to help alleviate the situation for our Haitian brothers. I want this help to go directly to those who need it and so I'm personally going to Haiti to bring it to them."

Number Thirty-Four: Rough Carringan.

They say that catchers make good managers. They spend so much time studying hitters and pitchers that they end up cultivating a deep knowledge of the game. Bill Carrigan spent ten years with the Sox (1906-1916, he didn't play in 1907) mostly as a catcher, although he did play a little first base.

In 1913, manager Jake Stahl (who was player/manager of the 1912 World Series championship team) left half way through the season and Carrigan took over for him; finishing the season with a 40-30 record. In 1914, Carrigan continued in his role as player/manager and led the team to second place finish in the American League with a 91-62 record. In 1915 he led his team to a first place finish in the American League with a record of 101-50 and a World Series championship over the Philadelphia Phillies. In 1916, Carrigan took his team back to the World Series and beat the Brooklyn Robins 4-1. Then he retired; went back to Maine. He did come back to manage from 1927-1929 but the results weren't good: in 1927 the went 51-103, in 1928 they went 57-96, and in 1929 they went 58-96.

Good Deal.

Hideki Okajima has been signed to a 1 year $2.75 million deal; thus avoiding arbitration. Oki had a down year last year but bringing him back seemed obvious. Good for him.

Joy in Boston.

This past weekend Jeremy Hermida was in town for the Jimmy Fund event and talked to CSNNE:



He sounds excited about playing here, "This is a real baseball town and I'm excited to play here and excited to play for these fans and put a Red Sox uniform on and do anything I can to help that team win. I'm very excited to be here and be part of this team."

Yup. Excited. I'm also glad that it's a real baseball town and not one of those imaginary ones, like Mudville or something, because that would suck.

Wedding Bells.

Congratulations to Daniel Bard on his wedding this weekend. He seems like an extremely nice young man. I don't pretend to understand the joy one would get from killing an animal for the express purpose of knocking one off but he's found a gal who'll go with him (albeit a girl with questionable taste--the china pattern she registered for is faux Greco-Roman) so bully for him.

Number Thirty-Five: Jim Rice.

Jim Rice was one of the most fearsome and feared hitters of his day or so I'm told. He called Boston home for sixteen seasons. In 1975 he was second in rookie-of-the-year voting to Fred Lynn. His 1978 season with forty-six home runs and fifteen triples netted him an MVP. Knee problems, unfortunately, brought an end to his career. But he seems like a genuine and nice guy. Plus, he's a snappy dresser.

Marco.

I don't know Marco Scutaro's politics but earlier today he was at the U.S. Embassy in Caracas for a meeting with the U.S. officials. Here's my question: Did the kid's father tell him to cover up the NY on his T shirt?

On the Sauce.

If you wanted to hear David Ortiz's reaction to Mark McGwire's coming out it's here:

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

He didn't really have too much to say. And I'm fine with that. I can't work myself up into a lather of righteous indignation about it because I don't really care anymore. They're ballplayers not saints. They've all done something along the way to make themselves better than anyone else; even little Pedey keeps a giant bottle of some kind of supplement in his locker because he thinks it'll make him better than the other guy. So enough of that.

I do keep thinking that David has dressed himself rather subtly only to have someone pick on him for his watch. Who wears a watch anymore?

Number Thirty-Six: Johnny Damon.

Short and sweet, because this one's not fun.

Johnny Damon turned out to be an actual idiot. The man said that he would never play for the Yankees but then he signed with the Yankees. And then proceeded to have the gall to be confused about his fall from grace. Idiot.

But he was integral to their success in 2004 (Javier Vazquez grimaces as Damon asks: 'Sup?). He was my centerfielder and I was a full-fledged member (without the T shirt) of the cult of Damon.

Maybe someone needs a left-fielder (really a DH) with a noodle arm and he comes back to Boston in a different uniform next year. I don't think he'd be applauded but maybe not boo'ed.

Humiliation Comes in Many Forms.

Ashland, Massachusetts may just be the place to be Saturday night. You see, Ashland High School will be playing host to a basketball game between the local firefighters-in-training and some semi-distinguished former ballplayers of the Red Sox persuasion. Suiting up for the Sox will be Lou Merloni, Oil Can Boyd, Bob Stanley, Sam Horn, Ken Ryan, and Mike Stenhouse. As the goal of the event is to raise money to send the locals to an out-of-state training conference, you'll have to forgive them if the the older gentlemen in the competition are slow, achy and generally out of shape. But at least if anything goes terribly wrong, there will probably be EMTs in attendance.

Egg On His Face.

Jimmy Fallon's interviewing skills aren't great. So, maybe Fallon didn't feel qualified enough to ask Ortiz about PEDs. Or maybe the show tapes too early in the afternoon for the Mark McGwire story to have broken. Or maybe Jimmy Fallon (whose interview--the other clip--mostly consisted of asking about Fever Pitch) doesn't know a thing about David Ortiz or that he had been implicated for PED use. Or maybe David refused to talk about it.

Having admitted seeing Fever Pitch and having been more annoyed by that movie than you can imagine, who could turn down the opportunity to throw eggs at Jimmy Fallon?

Number Thirty-Seven: Lefty Grove.

Lefty Grove had a fastball he could control and a temper he could not when he played for the Philadelphia Athletics. His best seasons were down there before he came to Boston. But the years he had in Boston (1934-1941) weren't too shabby either. He got his temper under control and because of a bum arm he learned to throw a curveball. He won 105 games for Boston. He threw 119 complete games and had fifteen shut outs. He won his 300 game on July 25, 1941, it was the last one he'd win.

Going Hollywood.

Someone go comfort Ms. Watney, Nick Green is moving to LA. It's only a minor-league deal with the Dodgers but he might stand a chance of making the roster as a back up. His time in Boston was error-prone but he did pitch two innings, hit a walk-off home run on Father's Day, and have an epic walk against the Angels. So good luck to him.

For Insomniacs.

If you're not a fan of going to sleep so that you can get to work on time so that you can earn a paycheck so that you can support yourself and not be a drain on society, then it should be noted that David Ortiz is scheduled to be a guest on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon tonight. If you are a fan of going to sleep so that you can get to work on time so that you can earn a paycheck so that you can support yourself and not be a drain on society, then you should know that episodes of the show are posted online.

Number Thirty-Eight: Jimmie Foxx.

Jimmie Foxx was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1951. He chose to wear a Boston cap on his plaque even though he spent the majority of his career with the Philadelphia Athletics. For a shade over six seasons (1936- thirty games into the 1942 season) he played at Fenway and it was quite a run.

The man could hit. But he was more than your classic high-home-runs-high-strike-out masher (in 1933 with Philadelphia, he won the triple crown). His best season in Boston (although, the rest weren't anything to sneeze at) was in 1938. That year he hit fifty home runs (the team single season record until Papi hit fifty-four in 2006) and hit to the tune of .349, striking out only seventy-six times. On top of that he lead the league in walks (119) and drove in 175 runs. He collected his third AL MVP that year.

Plus, he seems to have had extremely blue Steve McQueen/Michael Bowden eyes.

Number Thirty-Nine: Kevin Millar.

Kevin Millar is many things. He is a man with a large personality. He keeps things loosey-goosey. He's got his Jack. He was Manny's minder. He was a man of words: "Cowboy Up" and "Don't let us win tonight." But he gets a spot on the list because of one plate appearance. October 17, 2004. Bottom of the ninth. The Sox are thisclose to going home again. They're down by one and facing the greatest closer of all time. And Millar draws a walk, leading to history.

Theo.

(These post titles are much easier than trying to come up with something creative.)



Sean McAdam interviewed Theo Epstein today. There's really nothing to substantial to it. Beltre makes the team better defensively. He believes that Bill Hall might be fixable. The offense should be fine but if it isn't he can add to it later. He lulls himself to sleep not by counting sheep but by chanting players' OBPs. He doesn't want to go to arbitration hearings but maybe he will. Or maybe he'll swing a multi-year contract with a player. (I can't imagine who that might be. Papelbon seems like he would be determined to hit free agency. I can't see them signing Hermida, Manny Del, or Ramon Ramirez long term at this point. I guess I could see him working something out with Okajima maybe.) And he's pretty much done.

Trot.

Trot Nixon was showed up to help out at the Jimmy Fund's New Stars for Young Stars event earlier today. It's nice to see Trot. Curt was there too.

Number Forty: 1903 World Champs.

In 1903 baseball staged it's first World Series, a best-of-nine contest between the established National League Pittsburgh Pirates and the upstart American League Boston Americans.

The Pirates, having won the previous two National League Championships, were probably favored to win the series. Plus, they had a pitcher called Kaiser Wilhelm. How could they possibly lose?

The Pirates quickly went up three to one in the series. In game one in Boston, Cy Young gave up seven runs and Deacon Phillipe (for the Pirates) struck out ten to lead his team to a seven to three victory. In game two, Bill Dinneen did Phillipe one better and struck out eleven Pirates in his three hit, complete game, shut-out. With the series tied at one all, Deacon Phillipe again took the mound for the Pirates and again threw a complete game and again won the game, this time four to two.

The Series then shifted to Pittsburgh and the Americans took their rooters with them for the trip. Game four was the third complete game by and another win for Deacon Phillipe, this time five to four. Things were not looking good for the Olde Towne Team. The Pirates, however, were unable to ask Phillipe to throw four complete games in a week and the Americans took game five, eleven to two behind Cy Young. Game six tied the series at three a piece, when Bill Dinneen beat the Pirates six to three. Finally having apparently seen enough of Deacon Phillipe, Boston was able to beat him in game seven, winning seven to three.

Now leading in the Series, Boston went home to the Huntington Avenue Grounds. Pittsburgh again turned to Deacon Phillipe to pitch (this time on two days rest) and Boston went with Bill Dinneen. Phillipe didn't have an awful game but Dinneen's was better. Dinneen threw a four-hit, seven strike out, complete game. And Boston won the first World Series.

National League Champs.

The season hasn't even begun but the National League might as well not bother playing. The Atlanta Braves are on the verge of signing Eric Hinske. A.K.A. Smiley McGee, participant in the past three World Series.

Adrian.

All your Adrian Beltre news. All in one post.

Presser Part 1:



Presser Part 2:



The highlight reel Gordo speaks of:



If I hadn't already been coming aroung to like the move, the last video would have done it.

Also, Bradford has some interesting tidbits about Beltre. The tale of him learning English a word at a time is interesting and speaks well of the man.

Number Forty-One: Dwight Evans.

My defense-loving little heart was madly in love with Dwight Evans, the possessor of no less than eight gold glove awards. He was, in fact, one of my very first baseball crushes--I blame the mustache. He kept game 6 of the 1975 World Series going by robbing Joe Morgan (and anyone who robs Joe Morgan deserves a reward; if someone could somehow rob him of his voice, then they should get their forty virgins on earth) of a home run and doubling off Griffey Senior in the eleventh. And the man learned to hit and became pretty good at that too.

Pap Responds.

I guess that he caught me in a bad mood this morning and I happily picked him apart as a result but it only seems fair to put up Papelbon's side of the story.

And now I almost feel bad about it. He sounds as if he either just woke up or like he was drugged. And maybe it's just the lifelessness of his voice (or possibly just the bad phone connection) but I can almost hear a little bit of humility in there.

But I still don't think that a kid who's a shade over a year old should be plopped down in front of the television set.

Open Mouth. Insert Foot.

He goes away, disappears for a couple of months, and you forget just how unpleasant he really is. From this absence without the benefit of being an awesome pitcher to help you forgive/ignore the things he says, the things he says come across as entitled, selfish, egotistical, and really just stupid. He's like Curt Schilling except that Curt had some sense (however twisted and warped it was) of reality and his place in it. Perhaps some fear of God would be good for Papelbon.

The interview with Edes starts off well enough. He's redirecting his anger at his performance last October by using it as motivation for his off-season workouts. That's good to hear. But then it descends into his normal idiocy. His wife is having another baby in April and they have decided to call the poor mite Gunner. Because Gunner is supposed to be a bad ass name. Here's the thing Pap: Gunner is not bad ass. It's hillbilly. Either that or people will possibly think the poor kid is Scandinavian and that you just can't spell. Sue would be bad ass. Gunner is stupid. [Edited: Removed because it was deemed to be excessively mean for calling into question the child-rearing skills of Ashely Papelbon.]

And then he says that he didn't know of any of the moves the club had made. I don't actually have a problem with that. Tim Wakefield, whom I respect tremendously, has said something similar. But Wake is a good, kind, generous soul; Papelbon is not. And so when I read "Cameron, Mike Cameron? We got him? I swear to you, I didn't know." my brain translates it to: "Cameron? Mike Cameron? We got him? I swear to you, I didn't know." And before he's even played a game, I'm fully behind my new centerfielder.

And I agree with him that Mike Lowell, should his wrist problem not be insurmountable, could play everyday; as long as he doesn't play third or hit the ball on the ground if there are runners on. Anywhere. If Mike hits the ball to short, the opposing team would probably have time to drive the ball down to Pawtucket tag out the runner there, grab a bite to eat, and get back to Boston before Mike hobbled his way down to first. And I adore Mike Lowell. Arthritis is degenerative. He's not getting better. A year out from the surgery will probably help to alleviate some of the pain but he's still going to "run like a turtle on an iceberg". But it's good to know that Papelbon will stand by fellow clients of his agent.

And then he starts in with the best ever crap again and how he's not trying to make the most money he can for himself, not at all, he's trying to make the world a better place for closers everywhere. Which rankles but we already touched on it when he said it last year.

And then there's his goal of immortality. He doesn't particularly want to help the team win or win the World Series. He's happy to do those things, if they'll help him reach his goal of getting into the Hall of Fame. I'm not sure he realizes how unlikely that is given his shoulder, his flat fastball, and his inability to throw the splitter or the slider for a strike anymore. But no one ever said he didn't suffer from grandiose delusions.

Maybe they should bring Timlin back to babysit him. I don't remember Papelbon being this annoying when Timlin was running the show down there.

Number Forty-Two: the Royal Rooters.

Phans of Philadelphia teams are awful people--they booed and threw snowballs at Santa Claus or more recently 49ers fans. New York fans are obnoxious and terrible, terrible people that the world would be better without; these are true indisputable facts. Boston fans are loud, smug, possibly rude/inconsiderate, and feel that the world of sports should bend over backward to accommodate their team; these are not bad things.

But Bostonians in particular and the New Englandese in general have a long history of (mostly) being head-over-heels for their teams--baseball, in particular. Boston has that whole tradition thing going for it and the Red Sox run deep. Unless you're a particularly weak, heartless, and pathetic soul (Read: My cousin-in-law) you root for the Sox. That's just what you do. Perhaps it's just my cold New England disposition but I think that there's something wonderful about following in the tradition of the Royal Rooters. Good fans. Loyal fans. Fans who trekked down to Pittsburgh for the 1903 World Series with the intent of freaking out the Pirates players to help their team to a win.

Was there enough hubris in there?