Twenty-Nine More.

Tim Wakefield signed up for another go 'round today.

Somewhere, Kevin Cash (Tampa maybe?) rejoices while Charlie Zink (Savannah probably) weeps quietly into his Wheaties.

I Went to Philadelphia and All I Got Was This Stupid Hat.

I know that sounds bitter. I know that being bitter is part of the negative image of Boston fans. But I'm not bitter. I really was rooting for Philadelphia and not rooting against Tampa. I may not like some of the players on the Phillies but I wanted this for the Phillies fans. I suppose, though, that I've learned the attraction of bandwagoning-all of the joy, none of the angst.

Most sincere congratulations to the Philadelphia Phillies on the World Series Championship. See you on June 12.

You Can Take the Boy Out of Cincinnati.

Last Saturday (10/25) the University of Connecticut football team took on the best the University of Cincinnati had to offer. It was a classic clash of the gridiron titans; full of gritty play and hard-fought battles. (Actually, I have no idea if it was a good game. I don't care about football. I don't like football. And given that the final score was 40-16 UCONN, it might have been a total drubbing. But it seemed like an appropriate thing to say.) Being a loyal Cincinnatian, a good ex-bearcat, and having nothing better to do, Kevin Youkilis made the trip down to East Hartford, CT to catch the game.

The picture (from the Hartford Courant) certainly isn't the most flattering but I think I miss the beard.

In other Kevin Youkilis news, Youkilis received the Hank Aaron Award for the best offensive player in the American League yesterday evening. So good on him.

A Man Named Jed.

Jed Lowrie is a thoughtful kid, as is evidenced here.

But I have to question his sanity. You see, he's planning on driving all the way to Arizona. It's not entirely clear if he's going from Boston to Arizona or from Boston to Oregon (to pick up his Dad) to Arizona. Either way it's a lot of driving. What's more, he seems to be a very slow driver-only having made it as far as New Jersey so far.

I suppose I understand the need for the car: it might be too hot in Arizona to walk places and there might not be places in Buckeye, Arizona to walk, and he is still too young to rent a car. But I'm pretty sure I'd be certifiable by the end of that drive.

A Hot Ticket.

Tickets for the Lowell Spinners Alumni Dinner have gone on sale. The dinner will be at the Lowell Doubletree on December 5. Tickets are $55. No word yet on who the special guests will be but it will undoubtedly be a fun evening.

The First Changes.

Luis Alicea was given the old heave-ho.

I don't know, other than not tackling Casey as he tried to stretch a wall-ball single into a double twice in the same game, I can't think of any reason to not bring him back. Maybe he wanted to leave.

And Chris Smith has decided to take his straight-brimmed cap and knickers and try his luck on the open market. The best of luck to him.

That Old Familiar Pang.

There seems to be a sense of satiety regarding the outcome of the ALCS. It was alright. I was alright. Almost everybody seemed to be alright. Turns out, I may just be good at lying to myself.

Yesterday the players returned to Fenway to pick up their belongings. Theo gave a press conference and dropped this little nugget:

"Epstein met with reporters for about a half-hour at Fenway on Monday before Blake called the final question.

But with the free agent filing period at least a week away, the GM was in no hurry to leave.

"If they have more, I can answer," Epstein said. "I've got nothing to do today, unfortunately."

Heart in vise.

Although, I'm not entirely sure what he would have had to do if they had continued on.

Four be the things I'd be better without: Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt.

The title comes from the Dorothy Parker poem: Inventory.

As much as I proclaim myself to be sort of blase about the series loss, I find myself unable to fall asleep. And since Mike Lowell goes under the knife later today, let's talk surgery.

Arthroscopic surgery can be performed under local anaesthesia as an out-patient procedure. But not Mikey's. Given the complicated structural nature of the hip with it's deep musculature, and the involvement of the vascular and nervous systems, it's better to perform the surgery under general anaesthesia when you can more easily regulate those functions; i.e. paralyze him, lower his blood pressure, and slow his heart rate so he doesn't gush blood all over the place. And to control the gross-out factor. One must never underestimate the gross-out factor.

The first step of the procedure is to yank his femur out of his socket (which is not only extremely painful and will leave him with a very impressive bruise afterward, it's also decidedly horrible-looking during the surgery.) The joint is separated so that the surgeon has room to work. He then makes two or three tiny (a centimeter or two long) slits through the tissue. Through one of these slits, he'll insert an arthroscope (similar to a straw, it's a hollow rod with a light and a camera attached to it.) He'll use the other slits to insert his other instruments.

Once he's in, the first step will be to debride (clean out) the joint. While cartilage is a fabulous substance (essentially it's strands of the protein collagen woven around water), it does have it's faults. It's main issue: it doesn't have a blood supply. When it gets damaged it takes a long time for it to fix itself. Inside Mike's acetabulum there will likely be pieces of broken-off cartilage floating around and the labrum will probably be shredded. Once the surgeon has scraped out the damaged cartilage, he'll throw a couple of stitches into what remains of the healthy labrum.

The next issue to be dealt with would be the impingement. I'm not certain that this problem was made clear before (so he might not have an impingement) but since Mike was talking about bone spurs with 'EEI, it's probably a safe assumption to make. An impingement is caused by an osteophyte (literally: bone growth) but not by a bone spur, as such. Essentially, the bone of Mike's femoral head has a bump on it. The bump limits his range of motion and bangs into his labrum. They'll deal with that issue by shaving off the growth. And if there aren't any other problems, close him up and wake him up.

I was rummaging recently and I came across this video:





It's from the Southern California Orthopedic Institute (I found it here-they actually have a much clearer description of what's going on in Mike's hip than I was able to muster) and it's the first in a series of videos of an actual hip arthroscopy.

Seriously: Don't click the video if you don't really want to know. It's an actual surgery and isn't pretty. It might, in fact, be described as gruesome. The surgeon asked "Hey! Can I record your procedure and then throw it up on YouTube?" and his patient replied "Go for it." Fair warning.

Silence Fini.

End blog silence, 2o October 0054.

Not even the mojo-iest of positive mojo maneuvers (the self-imposed gag order) could fully bring them back from the dead. Thursday night, I spent almost the entire game coming to terms with the end of the season. But almost as soon as I had finished wishing Gil Velazquez a happy birthday (I sort of felt badly about it because at that point it wasn't likely they would still be playing when it rolled around) Ortiz hit his home run. Then I started in on Cora's birthday and JD hit his home run. At the time, they seemed like lucky posts. They begged for me to shut up and let Cora and Gil do their work. Obviously, it was the wrong tactic. I probably should have started in on the November birthdays tonight.

A disappointing loss? Sure. A soul-crushing, rip-your-heart-out-and-have-Gregory-Hines-perform-a-tap-dance-on-it loss? Not really. It's not 2003. (Although, I suppose that's an unfair analogy-no matter how much they try to push a rivalry, Tampa Bay will never be the Yankees. Intellectually I know they're a good team but losing to Tampa Bay still feels like losing to Kansas City or Seattle.) There wasn't any saline-tainted beer when it was over. The loss wasn't foretold in the stars. They weren't victims of some cosmic, comic destiny. The loss just was.

My boys extended the season as long as they possibly could. They went out with a fight. And without becoming entitled, greedy Yankee fans, that's all that you can ask.

During the past seven months, they've played some very good baseball and they've played some atrociously bad baseball. It's been fun, though. Even when it was terrible to watch, it was fun. So, thanks for the good times. February really is right around the corner (and with the WBC, I think they get to start earlier.)

Happy Birthday Alex!

(And Dougie. And, for that matter, David Murphy.)

Happy thirty-third birthday to Alex Cora. He may not be the best defensively and he may not run particularly quickly but he is a tough out. And for all his faults as a ballplayer, Cora seems like a really good guy. When Bay scored the winning run of the ALDS the team headed toward homeplate, except for Cora-who went to congratulate Lowrie. He took Pedroia under his wing last season. The baby infielders are his ducklings and it's very sweet.

Whither Cora next season? Who knows. I think one writer had him headed out to Seattle to bench coach for his brother. Assuming, of course, that Joey got the job. Regardless, happy birthday and many happy returns.

Happy Birthday Gil!

Well Gil, I don't really know all that much about you but I hope that you've had a blast for the past couple of weeks. I also hope that you have a pleasant birthday and that the next year brings good things for you.

Oh! And I apologize that the only good picture I could find was of you in a Twins uniform. The ones they had of you in a Sox uniform were of you getting elbowed in the head by Van Every and one taken from behind. Mind you, it's not that there's anything wrong with your ass, it just didn't seem particularly appropriate. Cheers on the birthday, though.

Ganbare!

Desperate times and all that...

How to plead--cheer, I mean cheer--in Japanese for your favorite pitcher:

1. Ganbare: Do your best! Right now. I mean it.

2. Ganbatte: Go ahead, try your best! You can do it. Good job!

3. Ganbatte kudasai: Please, please, please do your best. For the love of God, please stop walking people and throw a damn strike. I'm going to be over in the corner with my eyes covered until this is over.

"Ee Daisuke!" *Clap, Clap, Clap-Clap-Clap* "Ee Daisuke!" *Clap, Clap, Clap-Clap-Clap*

Take That Chip Caray.

The relevance of the Nielson ratings has dwindled recently. Fewer people watch television when it first airs; instead catching the program on the Internet or watching later on DVR. One area of television programming, however, hasn't been as affected by DVR: Sports. Who watches a game after it's over?

The ratings for the ALCS have come in and they don't bear glad tidings for TBS. Just under five million people tuned in for the game on Monday night. Undoubtedly, these were not the numbers hoped for by Blackberry, Pfizer, and whoever the third major sponser is (for the life of me I can't remember-probably because I've muted the television by the end of the first inning during every game). Could it be because Tampa Bay may be able to get thirty thousand people to trek to St. Petersburg but getting them to watch baseball on television is a wee bit harder?

So Chip, how much do you want to bet that most of the people watching are Sox fans? Hmm? Did you not realize that those people you seem to make every effort to antagonize are the majority of your audience? And how much do you want to bet that they've muted you pretty early in the game, thereby cancelling out the advertising that your sponsers paid so dearly for? What no response? So shut it. Thanks.

All I've Got.

Happy Thanksgiving Jason Bay!

I went to Montreal for New Year's Eve when I was a freshman in college. It was only for a few days but as a portal to the world of legalized drinking and gambling, it was more than enough time. The closest I've come to Canada since then was driving about an hour into Vermont on 91-North.

But I love Thanksgiving. Any holiday that prominently features the wonder of the miraculous cranberry is alright by me. In fact, I come from a long line of Thanksgiving-lovers. Consequently, we've been celebrating Canadian Thanksgiving, in addition to real Thanksgiving, in my family for years. It might not be a proper Canadian Thanksgiving (we don't know any Canadians so we don't know how they do up the holiday) but that certainly hasn't stopped us.

With the safe arrival of the wee one, Jason Bay certainly has a lot to be thankful for this year. So, from a person who has no problem pretending to be Canadian one day a year to a real Canadian: an enthusiastic wave in the general direction of Fenway and a hearty "Happy Thanksgiving!"

Mike Lowell's Competition.

Jason Bay has nothing on Mike Lowell in the looks department. He doesn't have a smile that makes you melt. He's a little bit shorter. He's fair. His cheekbones are a little too prominent and his brow slopes a little too steeply. Nonetheless, he's giving Mike Lowell a run for his money in attractive-ness.

Part of the appeal of Mike Lowell is his supremely dry wit and the brain in his head. Mike Lowell can do math and, for a ballplayer, that's been enough for me. Academically, Jason Bay has been proving himself. He's a man that can reach into his brain when searching for a word and easily grasp 'unbeknownst' or, more impressively, 'onus'. And, as it turns out, has a kick-ass sense of humor.

The most recent issue of Sports Illustrated has an article about Jason Bay. The article contains the following tidbit:

"Afterward, when Bay was asked at the press conference about the two strikeouts that preceded the home run, he said, "That's a big part of my game."

Seriously: Why wasn't this on t.v.? And if it was on t.v., then how the hell did I miss it? Because that is fabulous. Absolutely friggin' fabulous.

The Last Straw.

David Ortiz has drawn a line in the sand. If the Sox can beat Tampa, we'd all better hope that the Phillies can bring down the Dodgers. If they can't, David is quitting. They already made him fly all the way to Japan earlier this season, thank you very much. He's not getting on a plane to go all the way back to California. Philadelphia, on the other hand, would only be about a ninety minute flight-totally manageable.

I'm going to have to go ahead and agree with him. If the Sox should advance beyond the next round, then only playing games on the East Coast would be ideal. It really would be fabulous to attempt to go to sleep before 2 a.m. and not have to worry about trying to stay awake at work.

*Hopefully, the video works. I was having no luck embedding it.

Casey the Generous.

Apparently, Sean Casey is not only passing out Woooooooo! shirts but also hats from his Labels are for Jars charity. Mikey's hat declares him to be 'Hungry'. Hopefully, that's hungry to play and hungry to win and hungry to be awesome. And if Mike bought the hat for himself, that's pretty cool too.

A Continuing Series.

It was meant to be included at the bottom of the last post but for some reason it wasn't clickable, so it wasn't really readable. Therefore, it gets it's own home.

It's not related to Jason Bay but I know there are some folks out there who might share Calvin's feelings about the shortstop. I've said it before, and I don't have an explanation for it, but I don't really have a problem with him. That being said, I didn't want to forget about the comic. So, apropos of nothing, there it is.

Bayball.

In his one foray into baseball (before abandoning it in favor of Calvinball), Calvin made a start in left field. Thankfully, the similarity to Jason Bay ends there. Calvin sucked at baseball and, so far, Bay hasn't.

Late Nights on the West Coast, Too.

Oh, Dustin of my heart. I love you. I do. I actually snorted when I read this quote from The Projo:

"I got back to the hotel at about 12:45. I got drug tested," he said. "Hey, look at my body. I don't blame them, man."

Bwah! Ha! Ha!

Ralph Waldo Ellsbury.

Oh, Ellsbaby. You seem like a really sweet kid. Earnest. Honest. Sincere. Innocent. A great thing about you? You don't use 'good' as an adverb-it drives me nuts when people do that. But other than that sweetcheeks? You are a terrible writer.