Fenway of the Future.

Yesterday the lack of anything interesting to write about had me contemplating making up news. That's not the case today.





Next season Fenway park will feature 560 new places to sit. And if Lucchino has his way, you'll be able to sit in those seats for the 2012 All-Star game. Even though Fenway did just host the All-Star game in 1999, I think it would be a nice gesture on the part of MLB to let them do it again for their centennial celebration.

Can Somebody Please Call a Medic?

It seems that Terry Francona has been chewed on and spat out. From the Herald:

"Francona will undergo an arthroscopic procedure on his left knee today and tomorrow will get an injection for his ailing hip. Francona, who had his right knee replaced several years ago, is trying to postpone a left knee replacement for at least another year.

Meanwhile, Francona recently learned he’s suffering from a torn labrum in the hip, the same malady that ended Mike Lowell’s season and led to surgery last month.

Finally, Francona has yet another appointment Tuesday with a back specialist to determine surgery options."

Oof. A safe and speedy recovery (and a bit of good news healthwise) is in order.

Pedroia Rakes Them In.

Although the official announcement doesn't come out until 4 this afternoon, Bradford is reporting that Pedroia was awarded the Gold Glove. So, congratulations to him. It's well deserved.

He plays hard and makes some impressive plays. It was surprising when he dove and didn't end up with the ball. Given his tendency to mouthiness, however, I'm not sure I'd want to be around him right now. He'd probably gladly tell you that it was about time and he that he should have won last year and the year before that.

Got a Beat-Up Glove, a Homemade Bat, and a Brand New Pair of Shoes.

Alright, so it's not homemade; it's a Louisville Slugger. But it is quite old.

It's the kind of story that the folks at PBS and Antiques Roadshow would love: Shoved in the corner of a Yarmouth Port garage for years was an old wooden baseball bat. Nobody thought anything of it or treated it any differently than any other old baseball bat. In fact, (this is the part they would be none to pleased with) occasionally they took it out and used it. But the bat is not an ordinary bat. It is, in fact, a bat that was used by Bobby Doerr during the 1930s.

The bat's current owner is Art Goodall. Before that it belonged to Goodall's father-in-law and before that, presumably, Bobby Doerr. Goodall's wife, Jane, died from a brain cancer two years ago. As a result, Goodall has decided to sell the bat-in his wife's honor-to raise money for cancer research.

Goodall hasn't yet made a determination of how he's going to sell the bat but in the meantime, if you're the generous sort, donations can be made to:

Arthur & Jane Goodall Family Gift Fund

P.O. Box 770001

Cincinnati, OH 45277-0053.

Dear Santa: Premier.

Although the weather is about to take a turn for the better, it's still November. Both my birthday and Halloween have come and gone. Baseball is well and truly over. It's going to get dark disturbingly early this morning. The sea breeze has turned into a bracing wind. And I would swear that I saw a few snowflakes the other day. It's clearly time to start thinking about hunkering down to wait out the winter. But there are a few important things that need to be taken care of first.

If Thanksgiving is big (and it is), then Christmas is huge. Let's just leave it at: I can out holly-jolly the best of them. In order to aid the the acquisition of Red Sox related products, I've been mulling over creating a series of merchandise related posts for the past week and a half. I wasn't entirely certain I wanted to take on the project (as I envisioned it) but when I checked my e-mail today there was an advertisement for exactly the type of thing I was thinking of. If ever there was a sign, then this was one.

The Red Sox Pedal Car.

It's the coolest mode of transportation for tiny people everywhere. Why ride a bike when you can tootle around in this? Environmentally conscious and physically exhausting, it's a calorie burning juggernaut. Squeeze yourself in and take a trip down to the corner store. Just imagine the looks you'll get.

My Mother Taught Me Well.

This photo of Mike Lowell rehabbing appeared on Bradford's 'EEI blog a few days ago. The first thing I noticed was not itty-bitty Mike Reinold's gigantic smile. Nor was it that Mike Lowell and I have very similar taste in socks. Nope. The first thing I noticed was the state of their walls. "Why are their walls so dirty?" I demanded of my computer. Seriously. You'd think that if they weren't going to clean them, they'd at least be able to afford a new coat of paint.

Happy Birthday Covelli!

Today marks Coco Crisp's twenty-ninth birthday. I don't know why he became my favorite player. I suspect it has something to do with his Junior-esque batting stance. It might just be that he patrols centerfield. It could be his intelligence. It could be his humor. It could be his humility. But whatever it is, he absolutely is.

I hope that whatever happens to him next season (I read that Chicago might be interested) he enjoys himself. I hope that he gets back to what he was at the end of his time in Cleveland. Mostly I hope that he has many happy and healthy returns of the day. I also hope that his Dad is doing alright.