Pssst.

I don't know how it happened, John Lackey. Personally, I've never been a fan. (Although, lately I have grown to admire the fact that you seem to believe that you've never thrown a pitch that wasn't a strike. You could throw a pitch that sailed wide and smacked your third baseman in the chest and you would still want that call. People would be running over to check on Youkilis, who would undoubtedly be stunned and doubled over, and you would be standing there glaring and panting at the umpire because he had the gall to not call that pitch a strike.) Perhaps, you didn't kowtow enough to the media because it appears that you have somehow become persona non grata.

Evidence: When the Rob Bradford (and his OMG! desire to be besties with the baseball players) approved [Aside: I don't actually know that he's approved the article but if you get a chance to take a shot at Bradford and 'EEI, you should absolutely take it.] 'EEI blog makes fun of you--and I'm assuming that they're making fun of you because whenever I included the 'for sure', it was to make fun of you--something has gone terribly wrong.

But, Lackey pitched pretty well down in Pawtucket: 5 2/3 innings, 4 strike outs, 1 earned. He should be ready to come back on Sunday. Joy.

Pathetic.

(AP Photo)

Alright, boyos. Perhaps you're like my mother and this whole thing is an effort to be nice: Losing teams win so rarely, so it's nice of you to allow them to win. Maybe you're more like my brother and think, "This should be easy" and so can't be bothered to put any effort into trying to win, just assuming that you will. Whichever your motivation: Enough is enough.

Because, pigeons, you have a stunningly fantastic inability to beat crap teams. It's impressive really; the teams you're supposed to beat if you're going to be a contender, well those teams just have their way with you. They can literally manhandle and abuse you and you just stand there with a slightly bemused expression on your face and do nothing about it.

I can't imagine how much losing teams must look forward to Boston coming into town. The Baltimore's, KC's, and Chicago's of the world must throw themselves a little party every time yo guys come up on the schedule. They've got to know that they stand a good chance of winning two out of three or even sweeping the series.

It's really rather pitiable.

Let No One Ignorant of Geometry Enter.

(AP Photo)

Good on ya, Wake. It wasn't the prettiest outing but it was more than sufficient.

You have to wonder if the strike zone being shaped more like a dodecahedron than a rectangle is more of a benefit for Wake than other pitchers. As a hitter you're not going to be certain that the pitch coming out of Wake's hand is going to be a rulebook strike and then you have to wonder if the pitch will find the particular pockets of strike-iness or ball-iness of the umpire's strike zone. So you swing at pitches that you shouldn't because you don't have a choice and make generally bad contact.

Of course, the same could be said for a conventional pitcher. But it seems as if even the most mercurial of strike zones, can sort of be established concretely for most pitchers. With Wake, however, I think that the element of nobody-knows-where-the-hell-that-pitch-is-going-to-end-up adds a peculiar hitch to the deciding whether to swing or not process.

Fun game, though, even if they only plated six runs. (Slackers.) I've come to really enjoy Carl Crawford but I think that his home may have really been in the AL Central.

Doggone.

Adrian Gonzalez has a dog. That's nice. I like dogs. It's a poodle. Oh? Well, you know when they're not shaved, poodles aren't bad looking dogs. Maybe a little high strung but not bad dogs. It's a miniature poodle, weighs all of four pounds. Huh. Really? Its name...wait for it....is Princess.

Tim the Enchanter.

(Getty Images)

Well done Timmy! Wakey versus the National League is by far the best part (and possibly the only good part) of interleague play. If they abolished interleague, I would miss those couple of games.

In addition, it was certainly a nice way to end a very successful home stand. Let's hope that they can keep the ball rolling against Happy tomorrow.

The Big Spot.

(AP Photo)

Carl Crawford needs a better name. In your best Hub, Carl is too long and too soft to chant and Crawford doesn't work because the "-fid" is awkward. His teammates refer to him as CC but if you start going CCCCCCCCCCC, how do you know when you've got an appropriate number of C's? You can hear it on the broadcast: try as they might, the Fenway crowd just can't figure a way to cheer him on.

If you could teach everyone to say Carl with an R, then you could do "Carl Crawford" to the "Let's go, Red Sox" chant but that seems very formal. I personally would nominate "CDC"; it's forceful and fits into "Beat L.A." so nobody would have to learn anything.

If the man keeps coming up big when the team needs him the most, he definitely needs something more than just "Woooo!"

The Band Played On.

(AP Photo)

Rain Delay? What'dya talkin' about? We could so play through this. Bunch of wimps.

Being a sturm und drang sort of soul, I've always loved the rain. When I was growing up we had a tin roof on the old homestead and I loved just lying in bed listening to the rain. I love a good thunderstorm, especially when a thunder clap breaks relatively close to you and resonates in your guts. I love running in the rain because you look like a real bad ass. Plus, I have a very stylish umbrella.

If, however, this deluge were to let up for just a little bit, I don't think that I would mind.

Zeus willing, tonight's match up of Verlander at Beckett should be a good one.

Happy Birthday Josh!

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Happy thirty-first birthday to Josh Beckett or as I've taken to calling him lately, Becky. [Aside: I know I shouldn't do it. I do still oppose the misogyny in sports; especially using feminine names as an insult. It just came out one day and really I don't even mean it in a derisive manner. I suspect that it's a Tito-ism; for a while there he was Becks and then suddenly he became Becky.] It was quite a performance and an excellent way to close out the year. Many happy returns of the day.

You're Doing It Wrong.

(Reuters Pictures)

Emo John.

See, now I feel bad.

Apparently, everything sucks in John Lackey's life right now. I don't know if he means it or if he's exaggerating but I've been to a similarly dark place. I hope, for his sake, that his troubles work out satisfactorily for him.

So to lighten the mood, and because I'm big on themes, we'll go with the boat scene from the immensely clever Rosencrantz and Guildernstern Are Dead (If you haven't seen it, you should.) and giggle over "I've frequently not been on boats." and "Just a conspiracy of cartographers, you mean?" Feeling better already.

Has This Fellow No Feeling of His Business, That 'a Sings at Grave-Making?

Well, that was awful.

Since I'm not likely to type up my Hamlet, know that I cast Clay in the title role. Also, John Lackey as the first clown isn't bad casting either and really it's only fitting that the part was played by Billy Crystal here.

I don't really have too much else to say.

Mea Culpa.

*Hangs head in shame.*

I knew that I shouldn't have written that last night. I knew that I was tempting the fates but I did it anyway. What's worse is that they tried so hard to overcome the bad juju that I inflicted on them but couldn't get past my arrogance. I am truly, terribly sorry. From now on, I will keep any prognostications and weirdo songs from Pippin to myself. Forgive me.

You've Got to Be Dead Before You Find Out if You're Any Good.

So...Pippin works for you, huh? To each his own, I suppose. I will admit that posting this makes me just a little bit nervous because every time I've written something similar, you guys have promptly forgotten how to play but I'm putting it up anyway because I have a good feeling. *Knock wood.*

Well done, Carl! It's really a great thing to see. Keep it up boys.

There's Plenty of Fun When You Win.

Fine. You want me to bust out the show tunes again? Because I will. And since the only way to respond to that level of awfulness is with even more blatant awfulness, I give you the bizarre Pippin. Perhaps though you should go with young Pippin's advice: You're stronger and braver than them, so why don't you just kill them.

At least that disaster had something good going for it: it was over pretty quickly. There's not really too much more to say.

Next Up: The Great Twin Brethren.

(Here's where I admit that I'm nervous about the title because I don't want to do anything that causes them to lose any more than they already have. The poem, while a call for peace, would be an excellent rallying cry for the Twins but since they're off to just as awful a start as my boys, I think that it would be fair to call them brethren.)

Alright, boyos. Perhaps it's foolish of me but I still believe that you are a better team than this. I still believe that it's early and that you're one good run away from being in contention. Of course, I believed into September of last year that if things would just break your way, then you'd be golden, so I might not be the most reality-based person.

But the Central was so hard to predict this year. Chicago and Detroit made big splashy off season acquisitions, Cleveland and the Twins stood pat, and the Royals got worse. Would any person, sane or otherwise, have predicted that Cleveland and the Royals would have winning records into May? That Chicago would be that terrible? That the Tigers and the Twins would sputter? I picked the Twins to win the Central because they seemed the least flawed and it was hard to imagine them not making the post-season and then promptly forgetting how to play against the Yankees.

Their offense has not been good. Mauer is out with the vague diagnosis of bilateral leg weakness and his replacements, Drew Butera and Steve Holm (Steve Holm!), are not Joe Mauer. Justin Morneau has been pitiful. Jim Thome, while no great shakes, is on the disabled list with a strained oblique. The only one whose been able to do much of anything for the Twins is Jason Kubel.

It seems like it would be difficult to say but the pitching has been even worse than the offense for Minnesota. Joe Nathan abdicated the closer position earlier in the season but Matt Capps has done a fine job. Scott Baker who pitches tonight for Minnesota has been one of their better pitchers. His repertoire is a low-nineties fastball, a slider, a curve ball, and a change up. He's a fly ball pitcher who is generally around the plate and gets a decent number of strike outs.

Brian Duensing is the lefty scheduled to pitch on Saturday. He's been the other bright spot for the Twins. He also throws a low-nineties fastball, slider, curve ball, and change up. Duensing, however, is a groundball pitcher, who isn't going to strike out the world.

Everyone's favorite, Carl Pavano takes the ball on Sunday. Given the way he's pitched so far this season, it really would have been perfect if the Yankees had seriously thought about bringing Pavano back. He throws a fastball, a slider, and a change up; the velocity on Pavano's fastball, however, has dropped to the high-eighties which is pretty close to the velocity of his change up. He's been giving up a lot of hits and not getting many strike outs.

Francisco Liriano goes on Monday. Although he no-hit the White Sox the other day, he hasn't been pitching very well overall. He throws a low-nineties fast ball, a slider, and a change up but not with great authority. He gives up a lot of walks and doesn't get many strike outs.

So let's have at it boys: Battle of the most disappointing.

A Scientific Mind.

Going to a dental appointment (Look Ma, no cavities!) would not rank high on my list of favorite activities. My dentist does, however, keep a well stocked magazine supply in his waiting room. I was flipping through last month's issue of Wired magazine today and came across an article on front office consultant, Bill James.

The story was about a new book he's written called, Popular Crime. It's an interesting read and it's really interesting to hear about the way he thinks but we're not here to discuss his fascination with true crime or his theory that the Boston Strangler was actually from Brookline, we're here to point out the horrendously ugly wallpaper that he has in his home. It's styled like someone put it up a hundred years ago and nobody has bothered to do anything (other than keeping it from falling down) about it since. I know that wallpaper is a bear to get down but my goodness. It's so awful that we won't even mention how it clashes with the Persian rugs.

The Fighter.

(Getty Images)

Dustin Pedroia is sick of losing and you should be too. And if he has to stand up there for nearly ten minutes and see thirteen pitches during an at bat, then so be it. It was seriously beautiful at bat and great fun.

(Brookbaseball.net)

Good Times.

(Getty Images)

Robert Scott (Congratulations. You've made me look up your middle name.) not good, buddy. I think it's only fair that Wakey gets to ping pennies off your head for an hour or so.

And while he's at it Timmy should feel free to chuck a couple at Francona, as well. I do try to not be one of those people who criticizes every move the manager makes: clearly, the man knows a lot more than I do. But what the hell kind of a hook was that?

But more importantly, Carl! Wonderful my liebchen!

Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit.

Alright boys. April is over and now it's time to turn the page, or turn over a new leaf, or whatever you want to call it. May has got to be better right? Also, it's true: I won't be happy until you've won, so you'd better get on that. Thank you.