Jason and the Argonauts.

Jason Varitek. What do you say? Over in Boston Magazine, John Wolfson poses the question "Why, despite his diminished baseball skills, do people continue to root for Jason Varitek?" His conclusion? It's because Varitek shoved his glove into Alex Rodriguez's simpering, ugly, little mug. And as ultimately satisfying and fantastic as that moment was, it's a shame that that decision has come to represent his time in Boston (and I don't argue with the idea that that is Varitek's signature moment) if only because he's not particularly proud of it.

Fisk has his home run and the heart-squeezing hope as he was bouncing down the first base line. Schilling has his bloody sock and that sense of sacrificing himself for the greater good. And what does Varitek have? Inciting a melee and, as Yankee fans are quick to point out, he didn't even take off his mask. As a fan, it was beautiful but it doesn't really say wonderful things about Jason as a person.

I suppose that you could spin it that he protects his pitchers. And to a man, they seem to love him. Plus, he's the most well prepared catcher in the history of the game. Ever.

But back to the article, I think the writer is asking the wrong question. The question shouldn't be "Why do we root for Jason Varitek?" The answer to that is obvious. Why did Gabe Kapler get a hearty round of applause on opening day last year despite playing for a divisional rival? Has any one, anywhere, in any line of work, ever been given the leeway that David Ortiz got last season? Why did Kevin Millar get his own at bat music? Pedro? Nomar? Dave Roberts? He was one of twenty-five guys who set a region on it's head and he played a pivotal role on that team. Plus, he shoved a very creepy, emotionally under-developed, freak.

The more interesting question would be "Why wouldn't we root for him? What would a member of that team have to do to draw the ire of the Fenway crowd?" I do believe that Damon is the only one who has fallen from grace. But Johnny Damon's sin wasn't that he joined the Yankees. Johnny Damon's sin was that he joined the Yankees after firmly declaring that there was no way he would ever sign with the Yankees. And we believed him. His sin was in making fools out of us.

Which brings us around to Manny (because everything goes back to Manny). I really hope that he doesn't get booed in June. Manny's act wasn't new two years ago. He probably wanted out before he signed the contract. He sat when he didn't want to play. But he was always forgiven because of his bat and his 2004 mojo. Manny had his own little drum and did his own little thing but Manny never lied. We may not have chosen to believe it but he was never happy in Boston. Manny was never anything but Manny.

So if the lie is what sank Damon, what did Manny do that was on par with it? His faults were well known. The warning came from the people of Cleveland: Manny Ramirez will break your heart. I can't think of a reason to boo him. And yet I worry about it. Every single one of those reporters who jumped on Nomar for joining the media because he didn't make their jobs easier (looking at you Sean McAdam) will take the opportunity to pick on Manny because they're petty and he was difficult. Having stirred up a frenzy with the dingbats that make up the listening population of 'EEI, Manny will get an undeserved Johnny Damon welcome.

The front office types who are in charge of such things should put together a nice retrospective of Manny's accomplishments while with the Sox to combat the press' inevitable campaign on the off chance that the hamstrings are feeling good on those days.

End of the Line.

It looks to be the end of era. The Cubs gave Kevin Millar his walking papers today. If he hooks on with another team or he ends up hanging out with his family for the season, I hope he enjoys whatever he ends up doing. And if he's looking for a broadcasting job, NESN should give him anything he wants.

Lost in Translation.

Yesterday, Junichi Tazawa was sent to Dr. James Andrews after experiencing 'tightness' in his elbow. Word came down today that he'd been diagnosed with a sprained ulnar collateral ligament. Tazawa said that he'd pitched through a similar problem when he as still in Japan and that he wouuld have played through it. A little gun-shy after their recent dealings with Daisuke Matsuzaka, the Sox sent him anyway. Says Francona:

"We’ve been talking to him the last several days about some tightness, and again, his version of tightness because of the language barrier, and how he’s been throwing, we just thought we needed to have this looked at."

So to review: When a Japanese guy says that he has tightness in his elbow he really means "I done spraint my elby-bone so it goes in the opposity direction."

Dead Horse.

Well, I suppose that that is one way to play baseball. But it's probably not the best way. And, yeah, I know: pitching and defense, run prevention. Whoop-di-do! It's not easy, however, to look at that lineup and believe that they could overcome a three-run deficit. So it really doesn't help when the bullpen is just terrible. Ah well, there's always next year.

How About a Little Cheese?

Dear Mike Lowell,

I think that you're fantastic. You know that right? I like you as much as it is possible to like someone that you don't know. I also get that you're unhappy about the way things have worked out and I understand that you want to play. But you've got to stop whining about the situation.

"It's the organization's call not mine. To go to Boston and not play? Same thing, right? If I go it's not like I'm going to play right away and if I don't go it's night like I'm going to play right away. I'm not playing either way, so it's all up to them."

It makes you sound like a petulant child and makes it really hard to continue to like you. I very much doubt that the front-office types sit around plotting ways to make your terrible, terrible life worse. Sometimes it's best to just bite your tongue and pretend to be an adult.

Thanks in advance,
Liz

An Impossible Dream.

I have a soft spot for AAAA guys; guys who stick it out in triple A either because they love the game or they don't know anything else. I very much wish that I had the courage to continue to pursue a dream I had since I was a kid instead of just doing the practical thing and trading it in for a steady income. I badly want them to succeed, to be rewarded for their hard work. Of course, that means that by the time I'm really pulling for a guy, he's got very little chance left.

After today's game, NESN showed the documentary A Player to Be Named Later about the 2001 Indianapolis Indians, AAA affiliate of the Brewers. Given my penchant for spoilers, I watched with dread knowing that it wasn't going to turn out well for most of them. But I did learn a couple of interesting things about Marco Scutaro: 1. In 2001 he was really into remote control cars and 2. His wife is a stunningly beautiful woman.

The Final Countdown.

This is what I get for making fun of Mike Cameron's optimism. As I was trying to find out exactly what a cubit is before the skies open, I happened to see the weather forecast for opening day: partly cloudy with a high of sixty-seven. I suppose that I can take comfort in the fact that it won't be sixty-seven degrees at 8 o'clock at night and that it is supposed to be windy but being wrong is annoying. One more week.