Surviving Grady is Right...

...AJ Burnett and Bronson Arroyo really could be long-lost brothers. Maybe it's the angle - and props to them for finding one of the more unflattering pictures possible - but there's definitely something about the facial hair, chin structure, and slightly shell-shocked expression that speaks of a family resemblance to the dearly departed Brandon.

Speaking of Burnett (and thanks - again - to Surviving Grady for the tip), the NY Post reports that the righty chose New York due in part to the evangelism of Johnny Damon, who played up his view of the superiority of the Big Apple to the Hub and how he need not "fear the media unless [he] give them a reason," which I think is just precious. I have no doubt that the Post is reporting this story in an effort to give Boston fans a minor case of green envy heartburn, but I'd like to think Captain Caveman has done us Sox fans a good turn: when Burnett is turning in another mediocre season next year (and despite his high-quality career statistics in Yankee Stadium and even more impressive numbers in Fenway, I think Burnett is highly overated), we'll have ourselves a good laugh about how much he'll will have to fear from the New York media.

Coco No More

The Sox confirmed that they traded Coco Crisp to the Royals for reliever Ramon Ramirez. Unless you're far more familiar with the ins and outs of the Royals bullpen than I, I'm sure you had a similar first reaction: who? Fear not: once you take a look at the numbers, dealing Coco straight up for a no-name reliever makes sense. At 27, the right-handed Ramirez has three calendar years' experience in the majors - two in Colorado, one in Kansas City - with phenomenal numbers (ERA+ above 140, K:BB ratio of about 2:1, WHIP and ERA that have both fallen over time) over sixty-plus appearances in both 2006 and 2008. The catch is 2007, when Ramirez hurt himself twice: a sprained right elbow in April and a right elbow inflammation in September, and spent of the rest of the time sucking wind. Clearly he healed well enough to continue his march forward this past year, but a guy with a damaged wing who relies on low-90s hard stuff to make his living is a potential liability as he gets older. The Herald believes there's a possibility of Ramirez figuring as a set piece in a larger trade later on.

In addition to confirming the long-term decision to support the Jacoby Ellsbury Project in Boston, this move means happy trails to Covelli Crisp, the little engine who never quite could in Boston. To be sure, he had his hot streaks, particularly in the second half of this season, when he picked up the slack from Ellsbury's rookie/sophomore struggles, but the guy who came to Boston to replace Johnny Damon never really established himself after breaking his finger in early April, 2006 in Baltimore. Best of luck to you in KC, Coco; I hear they're big into OBP now. We'll always have 2007 and the time you almost broke your wrist sliding into the triangle.

Speaking of Baltimore: glad to hear the Orioles are acknowledging their home city now.

Bill Lee Cares Not About Your Opinions

An excellent idea for anyone looking to create an Internet sensation: put a microphone in front Bill Lee for a few minutes, give him a starting point, and let him hold forth. Kinda like what happened at the Red Sox Hall of Fame induction ceremony a few days ago. I had read Lee's Little Red (Sox) Book a few years ago, but I had forgotten about how much Lee does not give a crap about what anyone thinks about him: he's here to speak his mind and be clever, all at the same time. Does Lee blog at all? Because if not, he really should.

A few life lessons from The Spaceman:

• Winning is everything. No, really.
  
• When marrying Canadians, make sure the first one is cold before moving on to the second one.
• The Boston media gets the New York media's sloppy seconds.
• We should all be grateful to star players for gracing us with their presence, no matter what the result.

After watching this video, my friend Fred had a good point: Lee's vitriol about Manny may be a bit unfounded, but it's a comment on the long-held Red Sox tradition of crapping on star players when they leave town. After doing a quick mental tally, I can only think of two stars who escaped the pariah treatment when they left the Sox: Williams (he got while playing, instead) and Yaz, who both left because they retired. But Fisk, Lee, Pedro, Damon, Nomar, Manny...they either suffered the Vader force choke from management or the rabid dog attack of the fan base on their way out. It's not a particularly pleasant legacy to contemplate.

An Open Letter to Mike Lowell

The Red Sox have reportedly offered you a 3 year deal.
It is worth between $12 and $15 million a year.

Take it.
Take it.
Take it.
Take it.
Take it.
Take it.
Take it.
Take it.
Take it.
Take it.
PLEASE!
Take it.
PRETTY PLEASE!
Take it.
COME ON!
Take it.

You know WHY I want you to take it? Cause my buddies in Sox Nation (read: readership) and I will blow a frigging gasket if you follow the 4 to 5 year deal you are almost guaranteed to get elsewhere. We all know in our heart of hearts… you won’t last that long. WS MVP or not, you know that the front office is right not to give you a longer contract. They were right with Pedro, they were right with Damon and they are sure as hell right with you (honestly I think 3 years might even be a stretch).

So take the deal Mike. We just made something wonderful…why ruin a good thing?

I know it’s a lot to ask and I know it might not happen. For some reason ($$$) if you don’t end up back in Boston, I’ll be ok with it. I would hurt… but I’d live. Just don’t go to the Yankees. Right now I am so full of joy and jubilation and love for the world… you in New York would teach me how to hate again.

Take the deal Mike.
Take it.

Game 132: Bitter Balance

Final Score: Boston Red Sox 3, New York Yankees 5

Well, that didn't go as well as expected. Five to three isn't exactly an ass-beating, but for all of the run scoring against Chicago this past weekend and New York's worst-in-a-hundred-years road thrashing yesterday, there wasn't exactly a pinstriped collapse in the Bronx tonight. Instead of a blowout, we had a classic Sox/Yankees match - a throwback to a time not too long ago when these two teams were at a much closer parity - a back and forth shoving match that ended as perhaps all of these matches should: with a single swing of the bat.

That's not to say I'm not bummed there's no sweep, no sugar on the top of the revenge the Sox are trying to serve up for last year's five loses of humiliation. I'd love to bury our implacable, time-honored foes so far down the loss column they're playing golf while Detroit or Seattle claims the spoils of the wild card. I'd love to celebrate a World Series victory that doesn't involve a march through New York and the removal of five years of my life in the process. I'd love to have that pitch that went from Matsuzaka's hand to Damon's wheelhouse to the right field porch back and keep the game tied until the Sox could, for the first time in the game, take the lead and hold it with the dominant beast the Red Scare has become.

However, as I said back in April, this ain't the Biggest Rivalry in Sports without a real fight by both sides. Take that pitch back from Damon and the game achieves a balance, a fight to a standstill. Here was a contest of sumo wrestlers, equally matched. Tonight, New York found a way to drop their weight and push at just the right time. A bitter balance, but they won't be so lucky tomorrow night.

The Drag

With the Giants picking up Zito (cue evil Boras laugh) almost all of the marquee free agents have been scooped up by one team or another. Now, as we wait for the Red Sox front office to find a doctor incompetent enough to say that wet noodle arm attached to J.D. Drew is gonna last through May (that contract isn’t signed and the check still hasn’t cleared! Run away! RUN!) my anticipation for the start of the season intensifies.

I miss the Red Sox… hell, I miss baseball in general. The “hotstove” is all well and good but it pales in comparison to a chance to catch a game after work, the brisk slap of leather as the infield turns a 6-4-3 and the screams of the fans as Manny gets caught daydreaming under the monster.

I must confess I took last season a bit for granted. By the time the Sox were slipping into 3rd place and half the team was injured, I was praying for the off-season so I could rest my weary soul. Now I take it all back. I should have enjoyed those games more while I had them (even if Javy Lopez was catching).

I’ve been watching old games to try and recapture some of that summer magic but it’s not the same. Sure I enjoy seeing the 2003 ALDS game 5 (Sox over A’s: Damon head injury, Lowe crotch grab), the Fight game of 2004 (won the fight AND the game) and anything from the World Series (the week New England stood still)… but that’s just the glory. I need the grind again. The 5 and 6 day stretches, the horrible West Coast trips and that little rivalry that gets too much coverage.

I need it back. I need April to come around again and lift my spirits. Winter seems like the longest season (even with the unseasonable warmth here in the Northeast) and I blame the lack of baseball for the grey skies and early sunsets.

Right now I have some time to kill. I still have to wait 3 more months, and I know they are just going to drag on.

Game 45: The Rodrigo Lopez Club

Final Score:

Boston Red Sox 1, Toronto Blue Jays 6

Interesting analysis of the game over at The House That Dewey Built, especially the idea of a Rodrigo Lopez Club, "a collection of non-aces who pitch like Cy Young winners against the Red Sox," although Lilly only beat the Sox for the first time last year. Personally, I'm starting to get a mite sick of Toronto.

Arroyo, coming off of eight days rest so as to serve his six game suspension, was not the golden god of pitching he's been so far this year, so I guess we can blame Tampa Bay and the MLB discipline office for the end of a streak, dating back to Aug. 21, 2004, that saw Arroyo go 9 and 0 with a 3.48 ERA over 17 starts. Pretty disappointing, but there were other, mitigating factors that made last night's contest a memorable one.

As I mentioned yesterday, Robin and I planned to finally see the game at The Hairy Monk, scene of frustrations on the fourteenth. This time there were no such restrictions; we both arrived around 6:00 and sat down at a table facing the projection screen, got something to eat, something to drink and killed time until the game started at 7:07. 7:00 roles around and the TV switches from ESPN to NESN...and then switches to SKY Sports Network in Britain. A gentleman, who I believe was the bar owner, comes over and tells us that because Liverpool won the English Premier League today, they wanted to keep the TV on SKY for about 20 minutes, because there were celebrations on TV and people celebrating in the bar. In confusion, we agree with the terms...and spend 20 minutes watching commentators talk about the results of the game, without highlights or sound, while behind us in the front of the bar red-clad Liverpool fans make all kinds of noise. By the time they switch back to NESN, the Sox are down 2 - 0. Five minutes later, as the Sox get out of the inning, the TV switches back to SKY again, for more silent commentary. We complain to the waitress, who gets things back on track, but by this point the Jays are up again. The rest of the game is watched uninterrupted as the Sox fail to score,* Lilly pitches like he's become one with the ball and Toronto continues to find holes in the outfield to drop balls, while knowing exactly where to catch those balls when playing the field themselves.

In the fifth or so, we have a conversation with a English guy (or bloke, I believe they call them) who was not a Liverpool fan, although he was there anyway. I guess it would be like going out to celebrate the Yankees winning the World Series even if you hated the Yankees because your friends were Yankee fans. Maybe he really liked drinking and just needed a reason. We talked baseball for a while (and as it turned out, as little as he cared about baseball, he did like the Yankees), discussed English fanaticism for soccer and then he made his way back to the front. Good enough.

In the eighth, a group of four blokes sat at the table next to us. The guy next to me, clearly smashed out of his gourd, was staring intently at the screen, then asked me if I was for the Yankees.

"No," I said, "I'm for the Red Sox."

He took offense at this, telling us we need to leave the bar right now.

"No," said Robin, "but we'll leave in an inning and a half."
"I'm going to hit you in the face."
"I don't want you to hit me in the face."
"Stand up."
"Why?"
"So I can see how tall you are."

Robin told me afterwards he was about the same height as the drunk guy. My only thought was, 'if drunk guy has to get into a fight, let him wait until AFTER the game is over - I don't want to miss anything.'

"I'm going to hit you in the face."
"I don't want you to hit me in the face."

Drunk guy half reaches back to take a swing, waves, stumbles, catches himself on a chair and falls on the floor. His friends escort him to the front of the bar, where he calms down. The game ends and as we're getting the check, I hear he's getting into it with one of his friends, threatening to smack him on the face. "If you do that," one of the other guys says, "he's going to kick your ass." Drunk guy, being an intelligent individual, hits the other guy anyway and two seconds later, they're both grappling on the floor. Tables fall over. Glass breaks. Beer spills all over my bag and umbrella, much to my chagrin. Several guys are now trying to separate the two combatants, who are now locked in a wrestling match of epic proportions. I try to help at one point, but decide I'm much more interested in guarding my stuff against damage than I am in helping two drunk morons. Finally, bouncers drag the drunk guy out of the bar half naked and the combat ceases. Like I said, it was a memorable night.

I will be at Yankees Stadium tonight, watching Tigers versus Yankees (free tickets) and hoping that the Sox can hold on to their second place standing in the AL East as Wade Miller faces off against Gustavo Chacin. GO SOX!!!

* - Except a string of singles and a Johnny Damon sacrifice hit off Lilly in the seventh, eliciting my comment: only the Sox could hit three singles in a row and load the bases.