He's Wicked Smaht, Hey

In addition to being a victim of a height-related Doppler shift that causes a person to see him at a different height depending on viewpoint, it appears that Dustin Pedroia is possessed of razor-sharp mind that can cut through the fat of today's detritus-laden baseball chatter and go right to the bone. Run prevention, for example, holds no truck with the People's Champion:

"'I don’t even buy into that stuff. We have great pitching, we have great defense, and we have good offensive players,' he said. 'I don’t even know what run prevention is. I’m a baseball player. I don’t know how to read very good; I don’t know how to write very good. We just go play, man. That’s it. We’ll be fine.'"

Dustin Pedroia: 2008 MVP and Gold Glove winner, 2007 Rookie of the Year, master of the Queen's (President's?) English. There can be no finer option to man the dusty paths between first and second base.

Dice-K Speaks!

This article might be the best thing I've read about the Sox all winter. Ok, that might be hyperbole; I'm sure if I had a gun to my head, I'd say that, given its timing, the Lackey signing was the best thing I heard this winter, but hearing that Matsuzaka is not only being up front with his employers about a potential injury but confessing to the media that this admission is a sign that he's turned a corner when it comes to talking about being hurt gives me a lot more confidence in his reliability for this season. Here's why:

Earlier this week, I was watching some late night TV when I came across a sports show on the prospects of the Mets. The show had one of NYC's sports journalists on as a guest expert, and he was in the process of running through the pitching staff when I tuned in. Not that this should surprise any of you, but the essence of his comments was: Santana is Santana. Everyone else is a question mark whose ultimate usefulness depends the cooperation of a few different factors and healthy sprinkling of fairy dust. Thankfully, Boston's staff isn't in nearly such tough shape, but without knowing how well Matsuzaka had learned the lesson of injury honesty, his presence made the fourth or fifth pitching slot as much a mystery as the ones facing the fans of the team in Flushing. Which is huge, huge news: no one wants to be like the Mets.

Truck Day!

There may still be enough snow in the garden in front of my apartment to contemplate building Calvin-style snow sculptures, but today from Boston leaves a vehicle that, like the return of the robin, promises the onset of spring. "Truck Day": two simple words that promise the arrival of days when the sun's light provides more than a mockery of warmth, when the touch of the breeze no longer feels like an icy assault, when the stark skeletal growth of trees softens under a bower of green. But most important, Truck Day means Pitchers and Catchers, and Pitchers and Catchers means Spring Training, and Spring Training means Baseball. Sweet, sweet baseball. Your return cannot come soon enough, I promise.