Defection.

Or something like that.

Released by the Mets earlier this month, Alex Cora has signed a minor-league deal with the Texas Rangers. I like this move for them. As I said before, I wasn't overly impressed with Texas' ability to play baseball but Alex has got a sure hand in the field and you can hide his bat in that lineup.

Welcome Back.

This may not have been fully obvious but I adore Dustin Pedroia. I love that boy to pieces and I've missed him terribly. So, yeah, good job by Buchholz and Kalish but tonight was all about Pedey. It wasn't his best night at the plate and he might have lost a step going after ground balls (or it could have just been rust that prevented him from getting to the ball in the second) and his running seemed a bit slow (he would probably be faster if someone would just teach him to not run with so much tension in his back) but I don't really care. By just being, Dustin Pedroia makes me grin foolishly.

Plus, I get to bust out the Muppets.

It All Begins Tonight.

Dustin Pedroia says that it's time to sober up and get back on the wagon. I call shotgun.

Also, happy birthday to Pedey!

Good People.

Yesterday, Gammons wrote a piece in which he discussed Chris Johnson (Ron Johnson's son) and how well he's been playing for the Astros. Chris Johnson also talked about how his father's been treated by the Sox after his daughter's accident.

"But the Red Sox have been unbelievable. Her birthday was Wednesday, and not only did the team send her all kinds of presents, but a lot of the players called her to wish her a happy birthday. It's a blessing for our family that dad works where he does."

Maybe Gammo egged him on to say something nice about the Red Sox but I liked reading it anyway.

TGIL.

AP Photo

Oh, for goodness sake. You pitched well.

Disregarding his poor start to the season, it's hard to imagine where this team would be without Jon Lester. They've had bouts of crappy starting pitching, crappy hitting, and crappy defense but, for the most part, Jon Lester could be counted on to pitch well and give his team a chance to win. You can't ask for much more than that (other than asking him to be a touch less prickly). Good on you, Jon Lester.

Friday the Thirteenth.

Without going and looking it up, I can't recall the last time this team won a game in extra-innings on the road. (Now that I have looked it up, it wasn't that long ago. Useless statistics: They've played in thirteen extra-innings games this season and eight of those thirteen have come on the road. Of all of those games, they've won in extra innings only four times--with two of those wins coming on the road. They won in thirteen innings in Seattle on July 22 and in ten innings in Colorado on June 24.)

But this one belongs to Josh Beckett who, once again, laid an egg and a particularly rotten one at that. I don't know if he's decided to rest on his laurels or something but the man is having a rough year. And of course Bardo who, while responsible for less of the suckfest, shouldn't have let the tying run score.

I suppose, though, that Texas is play-off bound (if only because it seems improbable that the Angels could catch up. I'd hazard, though, that they'll be summarily booted in the first round because they're just not very good at baseball.) and we ought to acknowledge that. And we're left with: Que Sera, Sera. The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow and Save us Jonny K.

Also, please beat the crap out of CJ Wilson on Sunday because the man is a jackass of epic proportions. Thank you.

There Goes the 113-Win Season.

*Blink*

Um...Piglets? That's not how that was supposed to go, right? Because while two out of three ain't bad, three out of three would have been much better.

Splitsville.

Getty Images

Last night was disheartening but I guess, in the end, a split's not so bad. Jon Lester may not be the most gregarious fellow (at times bordering on condescending and rude) but the boy can pitch. And Holy Cats, Kids!: The Yankees load the bases with nobody out and they can't push across a run? Fantastic.

Heartbreaker.

Going into the weekend, I had the sense that this was it; the season was going to be left on the field in New York. Theo's real team couldn't compete with the Orioles or the Royals or Cleveland, what hope did the Kevin Youkilis-less lineup cobbled together from spit and bits of spare twine have against New York?

And then they went and won the first game. My inner Pollyanna (she's not particularly good at controlling herself) was thrilled and envisioned a four-game sweep and the team being right back in the thick of things. And now? Now she's just bummed.

At least work will be a distraction from the disaster that tomorrow will undoubtedly turn out to be.

It's Good to See You Smile.

I'm fairly certain that Mike Lowell's smile, properly used, could solve all of the problems in the world. Teach him some Mandarin, send him to Beijing, and have him politely ask the premier to stop expansion into Africa and to respect his people's human rights and smile at him, and China would be putty in his hands. Drop glossy 8x10s of Mikey Lowell's smiling face from helicopters (we wouldn't want him to get hurt before he could smile) in Afghanistan and the terrorists who saw the photos would realize the error of their ways and return to a peaceful life. Leave him in Pakistan and have him smile at the clouds and the rains would stop and the flood waters would recede.

We haven't seen much of the second best looking man in the American League this season, let alone his miraculous smile, but when he knocked that ball out this evening it was back. It was a sort-of, "I told you I could still play." and it was good for Mikey Lowell.