In Retrospect, Fun Was Had

I would have preferred a win, of course, but if we had to lose, at least it was exciting: Francona going so hardcore on his Rain Man impression that he's stirring up dead leaves and loose paper on the other side of the field, Big Papi at the plate, the fate of the free world in his hands...

The camera angle tricked me when he hit that final pitch. Maybe it was self-induced hysteria, I don't know. I do know that when the ball left his bat I cut loose with my baseball celebration yell: the one that could do double duty as a war cry and has no doubt left my landlords upstairs wondering if I suffer from Tourette syndrome. All for naught, however, as a slightly more sober viewpoint quickly ascertained.

But that wasn't the end! Jacoby Ellsbury, stealing bases and making friends! Not on a particularly good jump, mind you, but more than enough to rattle Nivarro into throwing the ball into centerfield. Emotional rollercoasters are a dime a dozen these days, but I think those few moments - Kotsay's walk, Papi's loud out, Ellsbury's advancement - certainly qualify for the necessary ups and downs. I was praying for the suicide squeeze...maybe next time.

Jason Bay, Clutch Hero

I know, I know: clutch statistics are meaningless, individual at-bats don't predict anything, Manny is still a phenomenal player, etc., etc. That's the intellect talking, doing its rational thing.

But there's also the heart, and the heart knows this: Jason Bay just hit his third home run in as many games to give the Sox the lead they just might need to put the Rays into the ground. He did it with two outs, with no men on board, with chances dying on the vine like soon to be swirling leaves of Fall. And man, did he look fucking pumped when that sucker went into the Monster Seats, like he was giving voice to every cheering maniac in that crowd.

It's Time For The Rays to Fall

Doing my best to ignore the bad news streaming out of Foxboro at the speed of fingers flying across keyboards and out across the ether, I came across this bit of Red Sox glorification: after months of seeing the Sox struggle on the road, Boston's finally pulled to within three games of .500 (36 and 39) away from Fenway...the same record as our erstwhile division rivals (and I mean Tampa Bay, not New York), who seem to be undergoing the sort of timely collapse (1.5 games ahead in the AL East entering today's start of series in Boston) that's all too familiar to Red Sox teams prior to 2004.

Upon further reflection, this seachange means we really are playing the role of the Yankees: the established, dominant team coming ever closer, creeping up on the underdogs like the monster from a horror movie. I wouldn't say we deserve an AL East win, but it sure is seductive to have this kind of power.

A number of people have asked me recently when/if I think the Rays are going to break. Up until now, I had stayed pretty conservative in my answers, because I couldn't find a reason for the Rays train to fall off the tracks: they can hit, they have three excellent starting pitchers, they can field, Wheeler, Balfour, and Howell continue to pitch out of their minds, etc., etc. It's hard to deny a team that seems to have closed all of their gaps.

Then I look at their Pythagorean win/loss record. Pythagorean, for those not in the know, is a statistical luck predictor that uses runs scored and runs allowed to determine what a team's win and loss record "should" be. Any deviations from the real win/loss record mean that the team's been lucky (real win/loss record better than Pythagorean win/loss record) or unlucky (real win/loss record worse than Pythagorean win/loss record). As of today, the Red Sox have a 86 and 56 Pythagorean, two games better than their actual 84 and 58 record. They've been slightly unlucky. The Rays? Well, on the Pythagorean scale, the Rays clock in at 79 and 62, six games worse than their actual 85 and 56 record. In other words, they're due for an adjustment. Guess who's going to deliver it to them in the next three days...

Since the fashion amongst the Sox these days is to take two games and lose the third, generally under aggregious circumstances (how a team this good sustains this many blowouts is beyond me), I suspect we'll see more of the same this week...but I'm pulling for sweep anyway. Let's put this one away, boys.

In Between Days Playoffs Thoughts

It's time for the loading and the blessing of the vines, high priest Josh Beckett presiding.  I hear he plans to turn the Texas hitters into the body and the blood.

A friend of mine sent me the following message on Facebook this morning: "I am totally feeling a Sox repeat, I don't know why, just am."  At the risk of a jinx, at the moment, so am I.  The reason is simple: key players (Lowell, Beckett, Youkilis, Casey) got hurt all at once and the team managed to keep winning.  The Sox are 11 for their last 15 (going back to the series in Baltimore starting August 18).  They've won all six of the series they played during that stretch.  They've made up 2 games on the Rays.  They're at a season high 24 games over .500.  They're doing all of these great things...and they're starting so many replacements from AAA they didn't make any splashy September call ups.  It seem to me - even with the lighter schedule they've had in the past few weeks - that ff Boston can win while rehabbing a good portion of their best parts, their chances for post-season glory seem much, much brighter.

Tying the Sellout Streak

If memory serves, I first heard about the possibility of the Sox breaking the major league baseball sellout record in 2004. It was long before the streak fate was even in question, of course, but in the air because of the string of sellouts the Sox had amassed since the previous year. I was excited at the time, because I was full of super-homerism on all things Red Sox (living in a pre-championship world didn't help), but as Boston prepares to break the streak next week, I'm a little less than enthused. Sure, it's great that the Sox have such a committed fan base that they pack the house to see a series against a last place team that only coincidentally included an exciting conclusion, or that new players get juiced by their first experiences with a large home crowd, but now that Fenway's become the domain of scalpers (legal and otherwise), it's a bit of a pain for those of us coming in from out of town to get seats. Should I have to schedule a vacation just to see a game, or am I just getting complacent?

A-Rod Makes History, Still a Douche

I was watching the Yankees/Rays game on ESPN and... ugh... rooting for the Yankees (I just puked in my mouth a little) and I saw some history.

In the top of the 9th with the Yankees already up 6-3 (so it wasn't really clutch), A-Rod launches a fly ball over the left field pole. Called a homer... but WAIT... they will use INSTANT REPLAY!!! For the first time ever they reviewed a home run call with technology and not the eye ball method that has been in use since the 1700's when they threw an onion and hit it with an ivory cane.

The result? Well... I couldn't really tell. But the umps seemed to find enough evidence to keep it fair and the Yankees ended up winning 8-4 and got the Sox another game closer to the Rays.

So, thanks A-Rod! You douche.

Jacoby Ellsbury is Unstoppable

Two games in a row I've seen Jacoby Ellsbury make superhuman catches: last night up against the sidewall in the left field corner, leaping like he had anti-gravity boots and grabbing through the fan reaching for the ball to rob Kevin Millar; and today, in right field, slamming against the bullpen wall to take away a home run from Aubrey Huff in classic highlight reel style.  Tack on two diving catches in center against the pale Sox from over the weekend and you have the trifecta of defensive awesome in one home stand.  Old news, I guess, but I guess I'm pleased to know that my pleasure in watching Flash Gordon do his thing in the outfield doesn't dimish through repeated exposure.

Witness to a Murder

I feel bad for Baltimore. This was once a wondrous baseball town with a rich tradition of competence bordering on greatness. So when I see the Orioles limp into Boston only to get their collective bells rung, I almost feel sad… almost.

Thanks to a quick pick up by DC, we were able to snag some tickets to this midweek thrashing of the orange birds. If our crappy seats were not nestled deep under the right field grandstand I might have been splashed with blood from the slaughter.

Beyond the Papi doubles (breath taking), beyond the Pedroia love fest (the MVP could run or mayor of Boston right now) and beyond the Lester mediocrity (barely made it through 5), the expanded rosters let the Sox bring up every AAA guy available… and I think they all played in this game. I mean Van Every? Really? At one point I quipped that I didn’t know what was going to happen first: the Sox would let me pinch run, or Baltimore would let me pitch an inning.

It was a massacre. The only negative on the night was how fast the park emptied. I know it was a nothing game that was WAY out of reach by the 5th inning, but you gotta stick around people! This isn't LA... you don't have to rush to beat the traffic.

With a final of 14-2 and my beer consumption nearing that total, I was ready to finish off the night (and series) in style… I want a clean sweep so I can put these “might miss the playoffs” thoughts out of my mind.

Yankee Stadium: A Red Sox Requiem

I had the good fortune to visit the Yankee Stadium for the final game the Red Sox will play in those hallowed halls. It was a wonderful day thanks to Yankee Mike’s generosity and the good folks at the Yankee Stadium club buffet (I think I am still full), but it didn’t have the ending I would have preferred. Oki left a ball up in the zone to Giambi and he sent it on a 2 run 420ft trip. The game was down hill from there.

But even more interesting than the 3-2 loss (that was ALL THE BULLPEN’S FAULT) was the atmosphere in the park. I know it was a day game and I know it was the 3rd game of a series… but WOW what a difference. This is the first time I have ever visited the stadium when the Yankees were out of the running for the playoffs (oh and before anyone says anything… they ARE out of it. It’s over. Sox won 2 of 3 and made it look easy. Sorry pals) and I have never seen so many Sox fans cheering openly in hostile territory. What a disappointing way to have such a storied rivalry end in one of the places it was made famous. A third place team beats the team that is 6 games ahead of them. Not epic at all.

As a Sox fan, there is really only one thing I can think about the Yankee’s situation:

It’s hilarious.

Call me bitter, but the Yankees not making the playoffs and being unable to give the blue toilet a proper October goodbye is just the funniest thing to me. Kinda like a big “haha who cares what you did 60 years ago… you suck now!!” but like for 3 months. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.

But I digress. It was a good day, a great series and a mediocre sendoff for a place I have loved to hate.

Final Score: Boston Red Sox 11, New York Yankees 3

I followed last night's action on my phone while rocking out to Nine Inch Nails in New Jersey. When I saw the aftermath of the Pedroia grand salami, I jumped so high I almost landed on top of the guy next to me in the pit. Less than an hour before we go for all the marbles...

Another Sign Pro Athletes Should Not Be Allowed to Speak in Public...

...without consulting their PR reps first, anyway: the Gambler thinks that a.) the Yankees imposed instant replay on baseball and b.) that "[Mistakes are the] beauty of the game." Better dial back the crazy there, buddy. But then there's this beauty of a quote:

“For every human individual out there, we’re all playing our best. We make errors. It’s part of the game,” Rogers said. “We don’t get a chance to go back — ‘I want a mulligan.’ — It’s not the way it works. It’s not the way it should work.”

Definition of mulligan: "a free shot sometimes given a golfer in informal play when the previous shot was poorly played." Maybe Rogers doesn't play golf, or keep up with popular slang, or think before he talks, because "check[ing] video on so-called 'boundary calls,' to determine if a fly ball went over the fence or if a potential home-run is fair or foul" (the purpose of the instant replay) doesn't give a player another chance to hit just because he wanted a home run instead of a double.

Ok, I'm done shooting this barrel of fish.

Kotsay Trade Goes Official

I guess the Braves don't care too much about Mark Kotsay: they just traded him (officially) to the Sox for a minor league outfielder who's playing (albeit playing pretty well) in low A for the Spinners. Kotsay, of course, is practically the definition of an average player this year (101 OPS+), but then again, he's having a much better year this year than he did in his final season in Oakland.

Kotsay Goodbye, Sox Say Hello?

Yeah a bad pun on a Beatles song… but I really didn’t have much else and it’s late.

Anyway, the Sox may have landed (or are still in talks depending on who you ask) Mark Kotsay from the Braves for an (as of yet) un-named minor league pitcher.

No bad news here. With Drew now on the DL, Kotsay is a MUCH better option that Joe Thurston as long as his much maligned back holds up. Also, if they ever need to give Bay the day off, Kotsay, Coco and Jacoby could be the fastest outfield ever. Bottom line is that the Sox just got an outfield band-aid that can hit a bit and field a bit. Not bad for a steal after the trading deadline.

Damn… maybe I should have gone with “Kotsay Up in the Moment”.

Final Score: Boston Red Sox 7, New York Yankees 3

The pinstripe panic will begin...now.

Memories of Yankee Stadium

Inspired by what (we hope) will be Boston's final trip to this iteration of Yankee Stadium and this thread on SoSH, a few of the memories that come to mind from my trips to what DC once called "Hitler's Blue Toilet Bowl." Feel free to add your own reminiscences in the comments...

1. June 9, 2002: My first trip to the Stadium. Alan and I make the drive down from Boston to see Barry Bonds hit dingers off of Roger Clemens, in a matchup that today might be called the Battle of the Ass Injections. No homers to be had, unfortunately; Clemens gives Bonds three intentional walks and a hit by pitch but wins the game. The next day, someone in the Giants organization (manager Dusty Baker, I believe, but I could be wrong) calls Clemens "Roger the Dodger."
2. June 30, 2004: A friend of mine from college, a Yankee fan who grew up in southeastern Massachusetts, also lives in Brooklyn; I go to a number of games with him over the course of 2004 and 2005, including one where we sneak down to field boxes in left field and I marvel at how close home plate looks from 350-odd feet. On the night in question, I went to the Stadium wearing hat and jersey, figuring I'd be safe (we were sitting in the dry section of the bleachers). The Sox lose badly; on the way out, Yankee fans tell me that my beard and long hair make me look like Johnny Damon.
3. Some time in 2004 or 2005: Yankee Mike, who has season ticket connections, invites my then girlfriend/now wife (a Yankees fan) and I to a game against the Devil Rays. The Rays did their usual roll over and die act, so it wasn't much of a game, but before the game we ate in the Stadium Club for the best culinary experience I've ever had at a ball game. The roast beef at the buffet made up for all of the times I had to walk around the Stadium instead of walking past the Stadium Club entrance.
4. April 28, 2005: The first stop on the Alan Bachelor Party Tour, a five day, five game run of New York (Yankee Stadium), Washington, Baltimore, Philly, and New York (Shea). The Angels beat the Yankees; during "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," a gentleman behind us changes "If they don't win it's a shame," to "If they don't win it's cuz they suck," a modification I've tried to keep alive to this day.

[With thanks to Joy of Sox for the SoSH link]

Watching History Unawares

I was in the gym this morning, pounding away at one of the elliptical machines, when a TV broadcasting one of YES's classic games caught my eye: Boston versus New York, clearly at Fenway. A date flash across the 22-inch screen; from 15 feet away, I thought I saw June, 1972. The score read 5 to 3 in favor of New York. 'Odd choice for a classic game,' I thought, but settled in to watch as someone (Fisk, as it turns out) hit a single that sent Yaz to second. I knew the Red Sox would end up losing this game - it's YES, after all - but it seemed like a good piece of diversionary history: intellectually interesting, but ultimately unimportant.

Not long after, Fred Lynn knocked in Yaz with a single to left. Hobson flew out to right for the second out and with runners on first and second, George Scott came to the plate. I knew Scott was a big part of the '67 team (something I used to help write off my growing confusion about why I knew the names of so many of the players on a team that supposedly played a good 15 years before I started watching baseball); I'd learned more about him after digging up his card from a box of baseball cards I'd gotten from my grandfather. 'Boomer,' I thought. 'Right-handed power-hitter in the classic slugger mold. Let's see what he can do.'

Not much, as it turns out. Watching Boomer swing was a bit like watching someone built like David Ortiz swing like Dustin Pedroia: monster cuts with a backswing so fierce it spun him out of the batters box, with none of Pedroia's twitch to help him catch up to the ball. Gossage nailed him to the wall in three pitches and the game cut to commercial.

YES skipped the top of the ninth; the Yankees singled, but couldn't put anything together against Andy Hassler. Rubbing a little forshadowing salt in the wound, one of the commercials was for the replay of Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS; the TV broadcast the Aaron Boone homerun and I suffered a chest spasm. Five years and two championships later and that game still rubs a little raw.

Dwight Evans started out the bottom of the ninth with a flyout to left; Rick Burleson walked. Jerry Remy came to the plate and all of the sudden, the thought that had been lurking in the back of my mind, the realization that - as those of you who followed the Sox in the 70s have no doubt figured out by now - this game didn't take place in 1972. I was pretty sure Jerry Remy wasn't playing in the majors in 1972 and even if he was, he was out in California, not in Boston. Remy singled, Jim Rice came to the plate with the tying run on second, and YES flashed the game date on the screen again. Straining my eyes, I finally saw what had eluded me for the past 15 minutes through the blindness of distance and - perhaps - a willfull decision not to see. The date on the screen was October 2, 1978.

You know the rest, of course: Rice sac-flied Burleson to third for the second out and Yastrzemski, in what must have seemed like a microcosm of the whole season, popped up to third, ending the game and stranding the Sox in second place. Bucky Dent would go on to become a byword for Red Sox futility by virtue of having homered the winning runs in the seventh; the Sox didn't see the top side of third place until 1986 and have yet to match their 99 win total in the thirty years since. As the Yankees celebrated around home plate, I climbed off the elliptical machine. The historical significance of this supposedly unimportant game had suddenly hit a little too close to home.

We Can Rebuild Him...We Have the Technology

Our new catching acquisition has been battling back problems all year. Somehow, this fact does not inspire confidence.

Part of me wanted to write a Six Million Dollar Man spoof in honor of Buchholz's return to Portland, but since I've never watched the show, I kept the reference to the title. You'll thank me later. Instead, some thoughts on what I've seen 'round the Internets about Clay's downswing:

• A few days ago - before the fateful final start against Baltimore - I spotted an article (that I now can't find, of course) about Buchholz finding a hole in his mechanics during his side sessions with John Farrell. As a professional fixer of sorts, I like hearing rational reasons like "correctible mechanical problems" and since Buchholz gets a lot of good will for pitching that no-hitter, I want him to succeed. As a result, I develop an almost irrational faith in the potential of the fix: the coaches know the problem, so they'll fix it. Clearly, not so much. These fixes take time.
• The Herald quoted Kevin Cash and referenced Jason Varitek in two separate articles on Buchholz published today; both catchers spoke about the importance of pitcher confidence. The intimation of both articles is that Clay lacks the confidence in his pitches; Francona even cited an incident against Baltimore where Buchholz shook off a fastball because he felt he wouldn't succeed. As Jonah pointed out over at Soxlosophy, the pitcher is meat: the catcher should be making the calls that determine the course of the game. If the pitcher doesn't have the confidence to throw the pitches his play caller demands, it's time to step back, to the lower-pressure world of the minors if necessary.
• In the article that brings up Varitek, Tony Massarotti voices our worst fear: that Buchholz is a flame out, a reincarnation of Kevin Morton, whose stellar debut with the Sox in July, 1991 (five hit, one run complete game against the Tigers) marked the high water mark of his 16 game major league career. But I think the comparison is inaccurate. As some of the partisans at SoSH (which incidentally has a good discussion of the whole confidence issue) continue to point out, Buchholz's BABIP continues to be about 60 points higher than average, which makes him one heck of an unlucky pitcher. Morton's BABIP was three points below average, which - if nothing else - means that his numbers were a reflection of his abilities: he really wasn't that good a pitcher.
  

Josh Beckett Needs Tommy John Surgery

Best of luck to Yaz on his recovery.

You know what I love? Some good fear mongering (that's why I chose that inflammatory, if potentially misleading title). Take a potentially bad situation (Josh Beckett and his tingling fingers), throw in a worrisome lead up (Beckett goes less than three innings in his prior start, then admits to the press that his fingers are numb), a tension-filled situation (race to the playoffs, problems with the ace of the staff with the well-deserved big game hunter reputation, and an unsure position in the AL East and Wild Card races), and a lack of solid communication by the team about Beckett's true condition, mix 'em all together, and guess what: you've got a concerned fan base. What's a good paper to do to address the needs of their audience and maybe stir up some ad-selling controversy at the same time? Why, interview an expert, of course!

Dr. Robert Shalvoy of University Orthopedics in Providence does not know the specifics of Beckett's numbness, but he fully understands the ramifications of the pitcher's symptoms.
[...]
Shalvoy, who obviously has not examined the pitcher, said normally these types of symptoms take six weeks to go away.
[...]
Shalvoy, who has preformed ulnar collateral ligament surgeries, described Beckett's issue as "prime symptoms" for a pitcher who has needed Tommy John surgery to repair the damage.

So, to review: this doctor says that a patient he hasn't examined may need Tommy John surgery even though he's only had access to the same minimal symptom reports that the rest of us have seen? Really? I realize the guy is an expert with an impressive resume, but a complete diagnosis of a complex ligament problem from a TV interview seems a little hard to swallow. And really: who prints an opinion like Shalvoy's without any sort of counterpoint? Fear mongering, man, I tell ya.

Worried About the Rays? Hell Yes.

I do love those Red Sox South games. Apparently Jason Bay does, too.

Here's a classic case of "Do as I say, not as I do." Unfortunately, it seems like the Shelton Little League team didn't apply that helpful dictum to their celebrity phone call...

Wicked Good Sports' Rich Levine posted an article yesterday wondering whether or not Red Sox Nation is preparing itself to worrying about losing the AL East to the Rays. Beyond the tough phrasing (who gets ready to worry about something? My mother is a chronic worrier and even she doesn't get ready to worry about something: if she finds something that concerns her, she worries about it. End of story.), there's the fundamental question: when do we start worrying about the Rays?

Let me answer Rich's question with a question of mine own: when were we not worrying about the Rays? Robin may have laughed at me at the time, but I called Rays in third before the season started, with the caveat that they could take second with a strong bullpen showing and some weak competition. Well, guess what happened:

1. Three key members of the bullpen (Wheeler, Howell, and Balfour) have been pitching out of their minds this year. Balfour in particular has been absolutely ridiculous: 6 runs in 39 innings with 57 strikeouts, for a gaudy ERA+ of 309. As a team, their bullpen has held opposing batters to an OPS+ of 87, which in relative terms is like having a team full of Julio Lugos.
   
2. The Yankees are flops so desperate they're bringing back Carl Pavano. The Sox are - as ProjoJo.com charitably puts it - so full of question marks that it's tough to tell how they'll hold up in the post-season, carrying around a .453 road winning percentage like a lodestone around the neck.
   

Even if you wrote off the predicted numbers, signs of impending apocalypse should have entered the brain after the Rays swept the Sox the first time in St. Petersburg, and full-on concern should have appeared after the second sweep a few months later. The Sox haven't been particularly good road team in 2008 (understatement of the year), but getting blown out by what's clearly a good team in two straight sets should be a sign that the Rays are a threat. So yeah, I'm worried about the Rays. I've been worried about the Rays all year. I'm pretty much assuming they'll win the East, because they took two key injuries without losing stride and I look forward to another run with the Wild Card, even though surrendering the AL East may well mean a first round blowout on the road. Get used to the idea, Rich: in 2008, the Rays are a very real threat.

Cannon Fodder: The Sox Versus the AL-Best Arms

Yanks Fan Sox Fan writer Paul SF posted an analysis today of something that's been on all of our minds since Halladay's complete game effort on Saturday: doesn't it seem like there's something about the league's better pitchers that consistently makes Boston's offense look foolish? Check out his article for the full analysis, but it turns out that sinking feeling in your stomach isn't just a symptom of a myopic focus on the outcome of a single game: the Sox really don't hit the best pitchers as well as their competitors. As Paul points out, that's going to be a particularly big problem once/if we hit the playoffs, when we'll be facing the best of each team's rotation in each series...unless the hitting heat these veterans displayed last year comes back with a vengeance. Then we should be ok, no?

Book Review: Eric Seidman - Bridging the Statistical Gap

A few months ago, I received a copy of Eric Seidman's recently-released book, Bridging the Statistical Gap, that the author graciously agreed to send to me. As you can probably guess from the title, Bridging the Statistical Gap is a book about baseball statistics, but with a twist: looking to show "more casual fans that they're already very close to understanding the ultimate goal in sabermetrics but just don't realize it yet," Seidman wrote his opus hoping to lessen the gap of understanding between baseball fans. Think of Bridging the Statistical Gap as a field guide to the motivations of your modern stathead and you'll get the idea behind the inspiration.

For the most part, Seidman succeeds in his quest, primarily because he knows where to start. The book begins with a discussion of batting average - long a battleground between statheads and traditionalists - and why it (or slugging percentage or on-base percentage or isolated power or on-base plus slugging) is not the be-all end-all of statistical measurements of hitters. But as a part of his bridging philosophy, Seidman doesn't throw batting average out entirely; he brings up the slash line instead, incorporating batting average into a larger statistic that gives a slightly clearer picture of a batter's abilities, letting the novice take refuge in the familiar while offering him or her the opportunity to learn about more indicative numbers.

Seidman continues the theme of building on known quantities to reach unfamiliar ground, using the familiar metric of the quality start to introduce his own statistic (the adjusted quality start) and discuss new ways to measure the win/loss records of pitchers. As with the batting average discussion, the chapters on pitchers are full of clear explanations and examples of Seidman's ideas in action. Your head might spin a bit from all of the number tables, but the ideas have the power to stick.

The remainder of the book focuses on practical examples of statistics in action, albeit in the type of estoric situations number geeks love: Michael Jordan's year in minor league baseball; a new look at the old debate on clutch hitting; Cy Young and the greatest pitchers of all time; insight on what makes a great playoff pitcher. The point of all of these chapters is the same, though: anyone can understand (and dispute, if they choose) the methodology. Anyone can read the results and use the numbers in their own arguments about best and worst, taking part in the rituals that fans enjoy. Bridging the Statistical Gap doesn't have all of the answers and it doesn't answer all of the questions, but it does a great job of starting up a dialog that lets anyone participate.

In Honor of the Rainout...

...And the chicken of hot fiery death Indian food I had for dinner waiting for this showdown to wash away: how about some Beatles.

Now Broadcasting Live from My Dreams

Super ESPN chick Erin Andrews and super NESN babe Heidi Watney together at last. In the words of the venerable sage and philosopher Garth Algar: SHWING!

But then again... maybe this is what's causing Varitek's marital woes.

Dice-K for Cy Young?

Sean McAdam on Dice-K's Cy Young chances: "There are guys who have won more games -- there's Mussina, there's Saunders, there's Lee, all of whom I think have to be thought of ahead of Dice-K -- but if he continues to pitch at this clip and ends up with 18 or 19 wins, and only maybe three or four losses, he has to be in the conversation." I'm inclined to disagree: Matsuzaka's certainly been a cornerstone of the 2008 rotation, but Cy Young front runner? It seems like a stretch.

Looking at the current AL leader boards, Dice-K isn't in the top ten for ERA, WHIP, innings pitched, K/9, strikeouts, ratio of strikeouts to walks, or - most telling of all - ERA+. He's third (after Cabrera and Burnett) in walks allowed. He's got the second best winning percentage and is tied for fourth in wins, but he gets 5.32 runs of support a game and for pitchers, wins are a meaningless statistic anyway. If we want to put a Red Sox on the short list, we should really be talking about Lester - ninth in ERA, six in innings pitched, fifth in games started, sixth in ERA+ - but even his numbers pale in comparison to better candidates. Really at this point, there shouldn't be much debate. Unless Cliff Lee (first in ERA, third in WHIP, first in BB/9, six in innings pitched, eighth in strikeouts, first in strikeouts to walks, first in ERA+) hits some sort of (pitching) brick wall in the next few weeks, there's no reason why he shouldn't win the award.

Jonathan Papelbon: "The Incredible Hulk, But a Little Stronger"

I do love me some Papelbon video, because the guy is probably about as crazy (in that fun way that makes for good TV) as Kevin Millar. Note to the Comcast guys: asking him about safe topics like Mannys is all well and good - MDC has mechanics problems, it's a relief to see Manny Being Manny somewhere else - but that's not why I'm watching. I want to see more of the personally directed questions, because that's where Paps gets to shine. For example: asking him about Chad Johnson contemplating a legal switch to Ocho Cinco and whether or not Paps would do the same was brilliant, because now we know that Cinco Ocho is actually a surpressed personality appears only on the mound and at casino tables. We know the strengths of the talent, people. Let's use them.