Captions, Photo Day.

Getty Images from Photo Day:


"If I make puppy dog eyes, will you promise to not take my job away?"


The Jason Varitek is confused series:

I would assume that the expression he's reaching for is one of intensity.


"You want me to do what?"


"Seriously. I don't get it. Hold the bat by my shoulder...Why?"


The confusion is spreading amongst the catchers.


"You do know how ridiculous this is, right?"


An issue with equilibrium may have to be added to Francona's list of ailments.



"I think someone just farted."



It looks like Beckett is wearing those sneakers that are supposed to tone your legs and improve your posture; however, they don't seem to be helping him straighten his damn knees.

Twit.

Dusty Brown has a twitter account. If he gets one hundred followers, he promises to provide insights into the life of a minor-league catcher. Help the boy out.

Knuckleheads.

You've got to think that one of the worst things about playing against the Red Sox is Tim Wakefield. If the knuckleball is working that day, then all that work you've put in in the batting cage is for nought. You've spent hours making something akin to a science out of hitting and for this particular game it comes down to luck. Conversely with R.A. Dickey having joined the Mets, one of the best things about playing for the Sox must be never having to try to hit a knuckleball.

Except in spring training when Wakefield throws live batting practice to David Ortiz, Kevin Youkilis, and Dustin Pedroia:

"Wow," Ortiz yelled at the top of his lungs after an unhittable knuckler dropped right over the plate. "What was that?"

A grinning Wakefield talked a little smack from the pitchers mound.

"You hitting that one? You hitting that one?" the 43-year-old knuckleballer teased.

Ortiz then bowed out, but laughed loudly as Pedroia twisted himself in a knot swinging and missing. Youkilis finally got a ball out of the infield, popping weakly to shallow center, and letting out a proud, "Aww yeah!" at the accomplishment."

Found A Peanut.

I'm not one to coo over babies but if D'Angelo Ortiz isn't the cutest little peanut to ever walk the face of the earth, then the sun doesn't rise in the east.

Your Cheatin Heart.

You can't really blame John Lackey. Huge smile, giant hugs, David Ortiz is irresistible. The sooner Josh Beckett comes to gripes with that the better.

BFF.

It's been awhile since I've made fun of Josh Beckett. I kind of miss it. Where, oh where, is my surly, monotonous, one-word answering kitten? He would have been good at Chris Collins' game. This Josh Beckett is almost approachable; still scary--I still wouldn't tease him about the strands of gray in that awful beard or Wake being able to help him out with that--but almost approachable.

Interestingly, in the couple of days he's known John Lackey they've apparently really clicked. According to Beckett, they're like total besties now. He also has strange looking knees.

Games You Won't Be Able to See.

MLB Network released it's spring training game schedule. They've got the Sox on March 7 versus Baltimore, March 11 versus the Mets, March 13 versus the Pirates, March 14 versus the Twins, March 23 versus the Twins, March 28 versus the Twins, March 29 versus Tampa, and April 3 at Washington. NESN will be covering the games on March 14, March 28, and March 29 but if you wanted to watch the rest of them, you're out of luck. The games will be blacked out in the local viewing area.

The stupidity of blacking out the games boggles. If NESN doesn't want to show the games, well alright, maybe they've got Bruins games or some other programming gem. But who besides the people in a team's network broadcast area is going to want to watch a spring training game?

Marco!

I am not a fan of Lou Merloni and his habits of saying very obvious things (Nobody hits good pitching? Get that man a Pulitzer.) and telling me what I think. It's mostly the telling me what I think that gets to me. Normally to save myself the frustration, I just skip over the videos with Merloni in them. It's better that way. I am glad that I watched this one though. Marco Scutaro's little yell as he leaps into the air is worth it.

Marco may have won a little piece of my heart.

Lazarean.

Honesty: For the past couple of days, I've been thinking of abandoning this blog. I've got nine hundred and ninety-nine posts on here and there was something poetic and oddly satisfying about quitting before I got to one thousand. But then Mike Cameron wore that shirt and it just wasn't something that could be allowed to pass without comment. So I guess that I'm in this for the long haul.

It's a stunning shirt. Fashion sense aside, there's yet another reason to be a Mike Cameron fan; if he wasn't a baseball player, then he would be an architect. In a tale of dreams dashed (and the kind of thing that sticks with you for decades) I remember telling my third grade teacher, Mrs. McNeil, that I wanted to be an architect only to have her reply that you couldn't be an architect if you weren't able to draw straight lines. (As if she knew anything about becoming an architect. Whatever. Dream-squasher.) So I think architects and engineers are just the coolest people. It's too bad Charlie Zink moved on to St. Louis; they could have talked about architecture.

Bright Side.

There are two important things to come out of David Ortiz's press conference today. 1. He's working on his bunting as an answer to the shift. And 2. He's a Ricky Martin fan. He's got to be right? Ricky Martin is such a dated pop culture reference that it's not something you would come up with on the fly. Also, since Ricky Martin is older than I thought he was; at thirty-eight shouldn't he be the one wishing he looked like David and not the other way around?

Just a warning: The video cuts out at 4:16, 10:07, 11:30, and13:52 and the tone is piercing.

Captions, Series Three.

More Globe photos:

No Daisuke! No! There may be too many pitchers but there is a better solution.


Jon Lester is aware of my softening opinion of him and he will glare me back to indifference.


A giant among men.

Pinstriped Blindness.

It's true what they say: Time (and a uniform change) heals all wounds. Johnny Damon made his appearance at Tigers' spring training camp this morning and reading about it caused me to break out in a wide grin. Alright, so he fits right in with Dustin Pedroia's assessment of baseball players but he's easy to fall back in love with.

Change of Heart.

I was never really a fan of Jon Lester. I didn't dislike him per se I just found him boring. When he was on NESN earlier today, however, I found myself interested in what he had said. It was odd. I decided to attribute it to Peter Gammons and his habit of asking interesting questions. But then there was this video from CSNNE and I once again found him to be interesting. He seems so relaxed. The boy needs to buy some sunscreen though.

Author! Author!

Given that just today Dustin Pedroia proclaimed that baseball players did not have the ability to write well, it seems that they wouldn't want to expose themselves to ridicule by writing publicly. Kevin Youkilis and Daniel Bard, however, are going to attempt to prove Pedroia wrong. Both have agreed to blog for ESPN Boston this season. I suppose they can't really prove him wrong as they both dictated their entries, though.

Dustin Want a Cracker?

I've been working on this scheme wherein I kidnap Dustin Pedroia. (Obligatory short joke: He couldn't be that hard to subdue, right?) Nothing sordid, mind you. And not even really like Misery at all. I would simply bring him home and keep him there to say things that would amuse me--like a parrot. In the first few days of camp, he hasn't disappointed.

He told Edes yesterday:

"You know what I'm going to do this year? Bat fifth and DH. I'm waiting to tell Papi that second base is all his."

There are so may fantastic images in those three sentences that I don't even know where to start.

It's unlikely that he's concerned about an organizational shift in focus from hitting for power to defense. Holding court today and saying:

"Yeah, it kind of upsets me [when people talk about a lack of offense] but I really don't care what you guys think anyway."

and

"I don't even buy into that stuff. We have great pitching, we have great defense, and we have good offensive players. I don't even know what run prevention is. I'm kind of a baseball players. I don't know how to read very good. I don't know how to write very good. We just go play. We'll be fine."

You also don't know how to talk very good. But come on, think about it: Run. Prevention. There aren't too many things that that could mean.

And from the Edes:

"Look at Scutaro. He scored over one hundred runs last year. He was a pain in the butt. Cameron, he's going to hit a ton of home runs at Fenway.

And me, I'm going to have at least ten more hits this year, because that's how many Beltre took away from me."

Which of course sent me scampering to look up how he did against Seattle last year. He was 5-26 against Seattle but if he feels he should have been 15-26, more power to him.

Captions, Series Two.

The Globe only had one good photo today:

"Please don't let them make me a reliever."

Brobdingnagian.

You can't help but look at this Globe photo of Jason Varitek and be impressed by his physical form; especially in comparison to the slight paunch exhibited by both Martinez and Brown. Clearly the man works hard on chiseling his body. But the Globe left out some of the story. As is evidenced in the AP photo, not only did he become chiseled he became bigger. A lot bigger.

If You Can't Say Anything Nice...

I've given up caffeine for Lent. It's not going well; suffering from withdrawal, I'm grouchy and short-tempered. The good news is that I know that I'm being a jerk. The bad? I'm not really able to control it. So presented without commentary:



Jon Lester.

Pitchers...

John Lackey.



Daisuke Matsuzaka.

And Catchers.

Victor Martinez with Heidi Watney.

The Boss.

Terry Francona had his first chat with the media this afternoon. He's looking forward to getting started. He's not ready to make decisions yet. He respects Mike Lowell and he hopes for the best from David Ortiz. He likes the team as it's currently constituted. Nothing too controversial.

Classin' It Up.

Jerry Remy just appeared on GBH's Greater Boston to plug the new restaurant--he promises that the food will be good. He talks about battling depression last season and about the importance of David Ortiz in any success the Sox might achieve this season. He also talks about trying to convince Daisuke Matsuzaka to listen to the front office.

It does look like he's got some of his lunch caught in his moustache.

I Like John Lackey.

I'm kind of proud of myself. Through sheer force of will, I've almost convinced myself that I like John Lackey. I knew that if I looked hard enough, that I could find a reason to like John Lackey. And on February 6, the Child Abuse Prevention Center in Orange, CA held a casino night fundraiser and John Lackey attended. Said Lackey:

"Any time you can help kids by healthy and successful, it's great."

So that's a redeeming feature. And it's just in time, too.

Number One: Fenway.

It may not be the most comfortable place to watch a baseball game but it has got to be one of the best. Zany acoustical theories aside, Fenway is the soul of this ball club. It's a business (everybody understands that) but owners, general managers, players, fans--they all come and go. Fenway is still here. It's the only thing that keeps the Sox from being a slightly poorer version of the Yankees. Just go to a game with someone who's never been here. Watch them take the place in. Listen to them demand to know how anyone could think about tearing it down. It's a special place.

Captions, Series One.

The Globe has photos from today's workout in Fort Myers. I have captions.

Anonymous player shows off what he learned during the ornithology course he took after the season ended.

Momentary confusion sets in as Tim Wakefield enters his sixteenth season with the Red Sox.

Quick hands have nothing to do with Jose Iglesias' success at shortstop. He simply wills the ball into his glove.

The difference in color between Beckett's calf and his abdomen is impressive.
(Admittedly, the Globe's name for the file--I don't know if Steve Silva just takes the pictures or names them as well--made me chortle. It's called Beckgut.)

Downward Facing Dog.

Pap: And you want to be a closer.

The Word of Pap.

According to Ian Browne Jonathan Papelbon held court for nineteen minutes after he finished his workout this morning. Even though it's generally accepted that he's looking forward to raking in the cash in two years, he insists that that's not the truth:

"I think that's the perception, that I'm going to go somewhere else, but it's all a perception. Right now this is the way it's working out. It's that simple. It's one year at a time, it's working out and both sides are happy. Why would you try to do anything else is my way of thinking. Of course I'd love to be with Boston for a long term."

Huh. You'd think someone who has a reputation as a shoot-from-the-hip kind of guy who says that he fully intends to rake in as much cash as he can, wouldn't be offended that people would take him and accept him at his word. Of course, it's night like he plays for Tampa who wouldn't be able to afford him once he reached free agency.

Video is from WEEI.

Number Two: 2004.

It was a culturally defining moment. Where were you when Kennedy was shot? When September 11 happened? When the Red Sox won the World Series? I remember the night of October 27, 2004 as clear as day. I know where I was, who was with me, and what I thought. It was important.

More From 'EEI.

Probably should have waited longer to put up that last post because they now have an interview with Daniel Bard up. There's nothing to fascinating in the video but it's still early days.

Meanwhile, Down in the Fort...

WEEI come to us from Fort Myers with video from the workouts performed today.



The first show Jon Lester and Clay Buchholz throwing. It's not terribly interesting but the thwack of the ball into the glove is a nice sound to hear.



The second shows an interview with Clay after his workout. Maybe it's the fact that he now weighs nearly 200 pounds or maybe it's the angle of the camera (he's usually looking down but here he's looking up) but he looks different and I can't put my finger on why. Older, maybe?

Truck Day, Part 2.

The equipment truck finished it's trek and pulled into City of Palms Park this morning. It may seem silly to more sane people to be excited about a truck but it's fun.

Number Three: The Steal.

On October 17, 2004 it didn't look good for the Red Sox. The Yankees had beaten them in the previous three games. And after the decimation of game three, it looked like the Yankees might have had it in the bag. But the Yankees didn't count on the magic of Kevin Millar.

Millar has a reputation as a Yankee killer and on the night he urged his teammates, "Don't let us win tonight." For five innings it looked as if they weren't going to heed him; the Yankees led 2-0 on a home run hit by Alex Rodriguez in the third. In the bottom of the fifth: Kevin Millar walked, Billy Mueller grounded into a force out, Mark Bellhorn walked, and Johnny Damon grounded into a force out. With two out and men on first and third, Orlando Cabrera singled. 2-1, New York. Manny walked to load the bases and Ortiz singled in two more runs. 2-3, Boston.

Mike Timlin gave the lead back in the top of the sixth and there it sat, 4-3, going into the bottom of the ninth. Mariano Rivera, who had pitched in the eighth, came out to finish off the Sox and out came Kevin Millar. Ball one. Foul. Ball two. Ball three. Ball four. Millar headed down to first and Dave Roberts came out to run for him.

A throw over from Rivera to keep Roberts close. A second throw over and he was nearly picked off. A third throw over but he was back to the bag. Rivera finally decided to pitch to Mueller and Roberts was off. The pitch was a ball and Roberts was safe. Mueller drove a single up the middle (knocking Rivera on his ass) and Roberts tore around the bases to tie the game. They won in the twelfth on a Manny single and an Ortiz home run.

Family Ties.

Justin Masterson may now make his home in the Midwest but that hasn't stopped Happy from dropping in on his old friends. Indians pitchers and catchers isn't until February 21 in Arizona and while he's in south Florida visiting some friends, he stopped by Fort Myers for a work out. Says Justin:

"You miss the guys out here, but I'm excited to get to know the guys with the Indians better. I wanted to get some work in. I haven't been outside to throw since the end of last season."

Number Four: The Bloody Sock.

Tuesday, October 19, 2004. Yankee Stadium.

Curt Schilling's performance in game one of that ALCS was miserable. He was battling dislocated peroneal tendons and lasted only three innings. The Sox had fallen behind 3-0 but had improbably won two in a row. It was now game six and it was Curt's turn again. But the man who had been brought here for exactly this purpose, couldn't pitch.

And so they did something probably ill-advised. In the trainer's room at Fenway on October 18th, they sutured the skin so that the tendons couldn't move. He hobbled out to the mound the next day. And with blood seeping through his sock he threw seven innings, allowing only one run in a game the Sox would win 4-2.

It was a surreal game all around. It was also the game when Alex Rodriguez slapped the ball out of Bronson Arroyo's glove and was called out for interference. And later the police filed in and lined the baselines, lending the game a very eerie vibe.

New Wheels.

I have an aunt who used to live in Daytona Beach, Florida. She much preferred Bike Week to the Daytona 500 but since the race is tomorrow and there's a connection between the race and the Sox, we'll talk about that. Forewarning: I don't know much about cars. I'm not particularly interested in cars. And I know even less about car racing.

Hanging out in the pit of Roush Fenway Racing Group's driver Greg Biffle today was our very own Josh Beckett. Beckett stopped by the race on his way to Fort Myers. Alright, so the soundbites he gave don't make much sense but there is an interesting little bit of information revealed. Beckett styles himself as a cowboy: He's got the boots and the hat. He's got the ranch. (Does it count as a ranch if it's used for killing animals and not for raising them?) And he's got the hunting-thing down. But, during the winter, he bought himself a very un-cowboy-like, terribly-inappropriate-for-the scrubby-land-outside-San-Antonio car in the form of a Ferrari California.

It is a spiffy looking car. Impractical but spiffy.

Number Five: 2007.

2007 was a fun year. From April 14 onward they sat atop the American League East and there was no sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop, you just held on and enjoyed the ride. Daisuke Matsuzaka and Hideki Okajima arrived, as did J.D. Drew and Julio Lugo. Jon Lester returned after his chemotherapy treatments. Dustin Pedroia got his sea legs and turned in an impressive year. Clay Buchholz threw a no-hitter.

After easily dispatching the Angels, they fell behind Cleveland 3-1. But Beckett did his thing and they got back on track, resoundingly beating Cleveland in the next three games. In the first game of the World Series, Colorado was no match for Josh Beckett and Jeff Francis was no match for the Red Sox. Dustin Pedroia hit the second pitch he saw out of Fenway and the rout was on. They won Game 1, 13-1. They took Game 2, 2-1. They won Game 3 in Colorado 10-5. And Jon Lester won Game 4, 4-3 on the strength of Bobby Kielty's home run.

Good times.

Diesel Fumes.

It maybe that Truck Day Presented by Jet Blue feels inorganic and stagy but I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter. Baseball is nearly here.

Number Six: Ted Williams.

There isn't much to say about Ted Williams that hasn't already been said so I won't try. But he was a great (possibly the greatest) hitter, his devotion to the Jimmy Fund was touching, and it's a shame the way the son engineered things at the end.

Put Me In Coach.

I don't know if it's because Truck Day is tomorrow but Ron Johnson's enthusiasm and excitement over being the first base coach for the Boston Red Sox is palpable and infectious. Says Johnson:

"I’ll sit around the house and it’ll just hit me that I’m the first-base coach of the Boston Red Sox. I’m going to spring training on Tuesday, and I don’t have to go to minor-league camp. I don’t mean anything disrespectful against the minor-leagues because I spent a lot of time there and I was very fortunate to have that job, but this feels like Christmas. Every time I think about it I get goose bumps, but it’s not the nervous kind, because I’m excited.”

Except for the rookies when they first come up, the rest of them are slightly jaded professionals so it's fun to see that joy.

He also wants someone, if at all possible Beckett, to plunk his son for him. (The son plays for the Astros.)

“I’ve already talked to him and told him whoever is pitching for us — and I hope it’s [Josh] Beckett — I want our guy to drill him. We’ve talked a few times, and I am very aware of those dates. I’m really excited about it because it’s going to be really fun.”

Which, for some reason, makes me like him even more.

Number Seven: Babe Ruth.

Babe Ruth has been cast as a vengeful spirit. No ghosts of various Christmases for him, no sir. He was at best a poltergeist messing with our heads (straining hamstrings so that centerfielders have to be replaced with players of less defensive ability, causing pitches to go wild and then causing gimpy first basemen to be unable to field a ball rolling toward him, and blowing on a home run ball very early one morning) and at worst a run-of-the-mill ghost so upset by being sold to the Yankees that he vowed revenge on his beloved Red Sox.

Old Friends.

 

Wayne Gomes last threw in a major league baseball game on September 28, 2002. It was the second to last game of the season and the Sox lost 6-9 to Tampa; finishing in second place with a 93-69 record. He played for the Phillies AAA team in 2003, the Oakland AAA team in 2004, in 2005 he played in the Mexican leagues and in Independent ball before calling it quits. Since then he has opened a baseball academy in his hometown of Hampton Roads, VA.

Yesterday, he called on his old friend Terry Francona--whom he met when he played for the Phillies and Francona was his manager--to lead a hitting clinic at his academy. In the video he urges the kids to stay in school just in case the baseball thing doesn't work out. He also gave an interview in which he praised Jeter and Rivera.

Number Eight: The Jimmy Fund.

I was watching TCM a couple of weeks ago and the movie they had just shown inconveniently ended some time between the bottom and the top of the hour. So they were filling time and one of the things they happened to show was this Jimmy Fund ad with Ted Williams and Bing Crosby. I'm not sure why but it surprised me. It shouldn't have done. The Jimmy Fund and the movies go together; you go in the summer and there are the steelworkers spray painting names on the side of the building and the ushers come out with the cans. I know these things, so maybe it was just the different setting.

Regardless, The Jimmy Fund does good. And the relationship with the Red Sox is the kind of thing to give you the warm fuzzies.

A Free Lunch.

Down in the Dominican Republic today, President Leonel Fernández threw a sort of going-away party for Dominican baseball players. The players were treated to lunch at the National Palace with the President and the Minister of Sports. Among the attendees were David Ortiz and Julio Lugo.

Piling In.

Dan Roche is continuing his roll call, this time reporting that Jon Lester and Jonathan Papelbon worked out this morning in Fort Myers.

Happy News.

I don't get sick very often but when I do, I am a miserable patient. I generally don't handle it well.I whine and I exaggerate. And I mostly just feel sorry for myself. I spent today curled up on the couch, under three afghans, drifting in and out of sleep, while syndicated comedies played on the television. I also decided, in my less lucid moments, that this cold was going to kill me. Even the cat grew sick of me and abandoned me to my misery.

So what could possibly make me smile today? Dan Roche writes (via twitter) that Youkilis and Manny Del are already down in Florida and were working out today. And Michael Bowden's status on Facebook is: "Michael Bowden is driving me Fort Myers.." Those words don't actually make sense in that order but I take them to mean that he's on his way to Florida.

It really is almost here.

Number Nine: Carl Yastrzemski.

Carl Yastrzemski signed out of Notre Dame in 1958. He then tore up the minor leagues; he hit .377 in Raleigh (it would be A ball) and .339 in AAA Minneapolis. Promoted to Boston the following season, he had the unenviable task of replacing Ted Williams as the left fielder.

His first couple of seasons weren't dismal but they weren't what would come to be expected of him. He found himself as a ballplayer in 1963, hitting .321 that year. He played for some awful teams in those early years--the 1965 team lost 100 games--but he's credited with reviving baseball in New England. The first winning team that he played for was the 1967 team. In '67 he missed one game and would eventually win the MVP and the Triple Crown (he hit .326 with 44 home runs and 121 RBI). He won seven gold gloves and made eighteen All Star appearances. He was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame on the first ballot in 1989.

And not too many people get a song written about them.

Number Ten: The '99 All Star Game.

How you could talk about Petey and not think of the All Star game in Boston, I don't know. There was more than Pedro that night; some of the greatest ballplayers alive were there and a teary-eyed Ted Williams threw the first pitch to Carlton Fisk.

But Pedro Martinez was the story. Up they came, the best the National League had to offer, unusually large men, and back to the dugout they went. Barry Larkin? No match for Pedro. Larry Walker? No match for Pedro. Sammy Sosa? No match for Pedro. Mark McGwire? No match for Pedro. Four batters. Four strike outs. Absolutely beautiful.

Gun Show.

Daisuke Matsuzaka has spent a large portion of his off season working out in Arizona and it shows. He looks thinner. I'm not sure about the socks with the sandals though.

Number Eleven: Pedro Martinez.

I once had this silly little theory (and I hope I'm not repeating myself) that all of the chants and cheers that had ever been utter within the walls of Fenway Park had been absorbed into the structure and had been stored there. And that if you could figure out the resonance frequencies of the building, then you could really make the place sing; you could release all of that stored energy in a joyfully cacophonous moment. (Don't worry: The acoustics class I took is only partially failing me. I know that's not how it works.)

There would be cheers and applause; groans and boos. There would be the sound of heartbreak. (What can I say, it was a nostalgic moment when I came up with this theory.) There would be strains of "We want Ted" and "Man-knee, Man-knee", "Let's go Red Sox" and "Where is Roger?" And beneath it all, perhaps as an ostinato, would be "Pe-dro" ad naseum.

Pedro Martinez was an event. Pedro in his prime was the best there was. He was the only pitcher I've ever loved. You look at his numbers and you think that he must have been pitching in the dead ball era. Then you realize who he actually was pitching against and it's even more stunning.

And so for Petey, a big thanks.

Number Twelve: Cy Young.

Cy Young pitched in Boston from 1901-1908. During that time he pitched 2728.1 innings in 327 games with 1 balk (which is fun to say but who knows how accurate those records are). He won 192 games with a an 2.00 ERA. In that time he threw 38 shut outs. He faced 10,662 while in Boston and only walked 299 of them. They're just astounding numbers.

Number Thirteen: Terry Francona.

I worry for Terry Francona's health. (But I'm a worrier. That's what I do.) He looks so much older than his fifty years. You watch him walk and he has the arthritic gait of a man with knees that constantly ache. He can't see. He can't feel his fingers. He has heart problems. And I'm sure that there are other things wrong with him.

He has an extraordinarily stressful job, which he has generally handled with grace and good-humor. His players like him and he seems to have a genuine affection for them. And he has done something remarkable in Boston, which will brook no argument.

He also kind of looks like a bird.

Back to School.

As I wrote last week, Victor Martinez had been planning on returning to Cleveland to fulfill an obligation to a little girl who had won him in a contest. And he did; which was sweet and kind and good of him. He chauffeured (not personally but you get my meaning) the girl and her family to the school in a stretch Hummer, talked with the kids in the class for an hour, and signed autographs. It's all very nice. But here's what bothers me: He doesn't seem to have made an effort to get dressed before he left for the event. Or maybe a matching sweatsuit flies in Cleveland, as a wise person once said "We're all models west of the Allegheny."

What was I saying about trying to be nicer?

Number Fourteen: Manny Ramirez.

I have been (and will probably continue to be) a staunch Manny defender. I can't help it. The man is an amazing hitter and was instrumental to two World Series Championships.

I sincerely hope, especially now that FOX will be carrying it and ESPN will likely follow suit, that he doesn't get booed in June during his return. You know that they're chomping at the bit to destroy the Boston fan base as being ungrateful; conveniently forgetting, of course, that they spent huge portions of their times picking on the poor guy.

Although I do think it would be ungrateful to boo him. It didn't end well but while he was here he was brilliant. And that should be enough.

Maybe, though, the whole issue could be averted by his hamstrings flaring up on June 17. That would work too.

Radio Days.

The FOX baseball schedule is out. I am trying to make an effort to be nicer so I will not say anything bad about FOX's baseball coverage as much as it may deserve it. As it stands, they plan on showing:

May 8: New York at Boston.
May 22: Boston at Philadelphia.
June 12: Philadelphia at Boston.
June 19: Dodgers at Boston.
June 26: Boston at San Francisco.
July 31: Detroit at Boston.
August 7: Boston at New York.


Three weekends in a row? Seriously? Are they trying to induce mass suicides? What about the other teams in baseball? Shouldn't their fans be made to suffer in the same way?

Number Fifteen: Johnny Pesky.

There's something to be said for longevity and Johnny Pesky has had a long career with Boston. He signed with the team seventy-one years ago in 1939 and made his major league debut in 1942. He joined the navy and missed the 1943, 1944, and 1945 seasons while serving in the Pacific. Pesky was traded to Detroit in 1952 and then traded to Washington in 1954.

In 1955 he took a position coaching the Yankees AAA club, the Denver Bears. From 1956 through 1960, he was a manager in the Detroit organization; in 1956 he led the Durham Bulls (class B), in 1957 the Birmingham Barons (AA), in 1958 the Lancaster Red Roses (A), in 1959 the Knoxville Smokies (A), and in 1960 he led the Victoria Rosebuds (AA). In 1961 he came back to the Sox and managed the Seattle Rainiers (AAA) for two season. In 1963 and 1964 he managed the big club, going 76-85 in 1963 and 70-90 in 1964. He was first base coach for the Pirates from 1964-1967. In 1968 he worked as the manager of the Pirates AAA team, the Columbus Jets.

From 1969-1974, Pesky took to the booth and experimented with broadcasting. But baseball called him back and from 1975-1980 he was again Boston's first base coach. He also managed the last five games of the 1980 season after Don Zimmer was fired. He went back to being the hitting coach in 1981 and did that until 1984. He was named a special instructor in 1985. He also did a stint as interim manager in Pawtucket in 1990.

Number Sixteen: Kings of Swing.

There have been twelve gentlemen who have won the AL batting championship while playing for the Red Sox.

1. Dale Alexander: He split the 1932 season between Detroit and Boston but managed to hit .367 that season. Alexander wouldn't have qualified for the batting title if he played today as he only had 454 plate appearances. He didn't have a lot of power (only eight home runs) but he walked sixty-one times and only struck out twenty-one times. The poor guy's career was cut short the next season after he injured his leg in a game in Philadelphia. The trainer attempted to relax the muscle by heating it. Unfortunately, he left the heat on for too long and Alexander ended up with third degree burns on his leg. The leg became infected and eventually gangrenous. Luckily, he didn't lose the leg but he done as a player.

2. Jimmie Foxx: If Dale Alexander had been disqualified from the batting title for lack of plate appearances, then it would have been awarded to Jimmie Foxx in 1932. But no matter, after Foxx came over to the Sox he won the second batting title in their history for his .349 average in 1938.

3. Ted Williams: The greatest hitter that ever lived. 1941 (.406); 1942 (.356); 1947 (.343); 1948 (.369); 1957 (.388); 1958 (.328).

4. Billy Goodman: In 1950 Billy Goodman led the American League with a .354 average.

5. Pete Runnels: Pete Runnels collected two batting championships during his stay in Boston. The first was in 1960 when he hit .320 and the second was 1962 when he hit .326.

6. Carl Yastrzemski: Yaz won the batting title three times. In 1963 he hit .321. In 1967 he hit .326 and won the triple crown. And in 1968 he hit .301.

7. Fred Lynn: Fred Lynn had a monster year in 1979 when he hit .333. He also led the league in OBP and Slugging, and was tied for second (with Jim Rice) in home runs with thirty-nine.

8. Carney Lansford: Carney Lansford would seem to have two major claims to fame: 1. He led the American League with a batting average of .336 in 1981. And 2. he had a cameo in the 1994 remake of Angels in the Outfield.

9. Wade Boggs: In 1983, he hit .361. In 1985, he hit .368. In 1986, he hit .357. In 1987, he hit .363. And in 1988, he hit. 366. I got him in here but that's all there is to say about him.

10. Nomar Garciaparra: Nomar won the batting title twice. The first time was in 1999 after he hit .357 and the second was in 2000 when he hit .372. He was a sight to behold.

11. Manny Ramirez: Say what you will about the man but you can't take away the fact that the man can hit. And in 2002, he won the batting title with an average of .349.

12. Billy Mueller: It wasn't his greatest moment as a member of the Red Sox or even a culmination of that season but in 2003, Bill Mueller hit .326 to lead the league in batting average.

My Kind of Town.

Kevin Millar is hoping to join the Chicago Cubs next season. He's signed a minor-league deal with an invite to spring training, which will be made official later this week. Hopefully it works out for him but it is too bad he wouldn't get to come back to town next year.

Number Seventeen: Tim Wakefield.

Wake has been with this team for so long that he played with Roger Clemens and Mo Vaughn, Matt Stairs and a center field-playing Ron Mahay. He's played on some pretty bad teams but has managed to rack up 175 wins. He's seen the good times and he's been front-and-center for the bad times but he keeps coming back. Even Mrs. Wake understands; in 2007, she had to tell some of the other wives/girlfriends not to put on their "World Series Champions" t-shirts before the team won, lest they jinx it.

Released by the Pirates in April of 1995, Wakefield latched onto the Sox a few days later. Called up in May he went on a 14-1 winning streak through seventeen games. His ERA in mid-August was 1.67, he gave up seven runs in three innings in his next start and it only rose to 2.08. He finished third in Cy Young balloting that year. He's done it all; he's started, he's closed, he's thrown middle relief. And he doesn't complain, at least not publicly.

He does what needs to be done and is willing to take one for the team, if need be. Last season he did just that in Oakland on April 15. April 14 was a disaster of a game. Daisuke Matsuzaka threw one inning (in a game that would eventually go 12 innings and end after 2:30 in the morning) and gave up five runs. Justin Masterson was able to give them four innings. They got one and two-thirds of an inning from Manny Delcarmen and one and one-third of an inning from Ramon Ramirez. Hideki Okajima contributed two innings, Papelbon one inning, and Javier Lopez two-thirds of an inning (and it really looked as if he had gotten the third out). The bullpen was shot. Knowing what he had to do, Wake went out the next day and threw a complete game. He was perfect through five and lost the no-hitter with one out in the eighth.

He hangs out at Dana Farber and Franciscan Hospital for Children. He raises money for special needs kids in Florida. He care about the community, his community. He's a class individual. And as I've said before, we should all aspire to be Tim Wakefield when we grow up.