The Sawxophile

   There's just something so 1965 about looking at the standings and seeing the Yankees in last place. We're not laughing and dancing in the streets about it, though.

   Part of it is that the Sox have concerns of their own, most notably how to patch and fill the rotation while Curt Schilling and David Wells are on concrete blocks, and Schill's admission this week that his ankle is hurting a little more than he previously indicated. Plus, there's the six-game suspension hanging over the head of Bronson Arroyo, the team's top starter right now, and the lingering worries about closing games (although Keith Foulke's three saves in 48 hours at Detroit have soothed things a bit).

   The Orioles are looking more and more like a real thing, a team that could win 90 games if the pitching holds up (and 90 could be enough for the wild card this year), but it's just not a real pennant race without the Yankees.

   I'm almost rooting for Steinbrenner's horse to win the Kentucky Derby tomorrow, although given how recent Derby favorites have fared, I'm not down with Bellamy Road. The man needs some joy in his life after watching his ballplayers get spanked by the Devil Dogs, with Big Unit on the shelf, Kevin Brown getting smacked like a government mule and much of the team aging overnight. There's nothing left to trade in the farm system, but there's not a lot of pitching available for the trade deadline at any price. I haven't counted them out yet - no team with a Jeter or an A-Rod can ever be - but somebody'll have to lob a grenade into the dugout to wake them up.

   The Yankees have that smell of death, like the five-time defending AL champs that tumbled to sixth in '65 and the cellar in '66. Call out the fumigator - there's something in the air.

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   Forty-eight hours ago, Red Sox Nation was feeling pretty cock of the walk - sure, we dropped two in Tampa Bay, but the Sawx left Florida with the satisfaction of a resounding victory in the beanball war with the Devil Dogs, laughing all the way at that little bitch Lance Carter for trying to bean Big Papi after Manny followed a brushback with a deep blast to left on the next pitch.

   We're not laughing tonight, with two-fifths of the starting rotation on the DL and some serious pitching questions to answer:

   * DID CURT SCHILLING COME BACK TOO SOON? The bone bruise he acquired Friday night on baseball's most famous right ankle raises the question. On his third mediocre outing since coming back to Boston, he reached back a little too hard for something in the sixth inning at Tampa, though he didn't come out until he finished blowing a four-run lead. The evidence for not being ready is certainly there - he hadn't lost all his weight from the rubber chicken circuit over the winter, and he didn't have the kind of stuff he had in his final two games in the playoffs. He'd get ahead of batters but be unable to put them away, and his pitch counts were outrageous. He needs some enforced sitdown, and a couple of games in Portland and Pawtucket before he returns - maybe sometime in June, when he's ready. In the back of the mind, though: he did have major ankle surgery, and perhaps there's a little more to this latest injury than the team is letting on. Maybe Curt did cut a deal with the devil last October.

   * IS THIS JUST THE BEGINNING OF THE DAVID WELLS BREAKDOWN? Boomer's got a month to pound the Budweiser. But for a guy with a reputation as a physical wreck (I sometimes tweaked my back playing quarters, too, at a younger age than Boom is now), he's made 30 starts eight of the last nine years. Baltimore knocked him around Monday, but he was excellent in the two starts before that. He is what he is - a 40-plus codger who's still got enough left to win some big games, but not enough left to be consistently good. Pass him the baling wire and chewing gum.

   DO WE NEED TO GET A CLOSER? Keith Foulke has been, to be charitable, inconsistent in April (that 0-2 fat one to Miguel Tejada last night, along with yet another bomb served to Sox killer Javy Lopez, made me consider keeping a bucket next to me next time he takes the mound). It reminded me of the night last July he hit bottom in Seattle, blowing a game with two gopher balls in the ninth. Foulke doesn't have the power of the traditional closer, and when his location's not on, he's in trouble. He's a world championship closer because of guile and mental toughness, like he displayed in the playoffs. He needs to pop in the video of his performances against the Yankees, when he was getting them out on fumes thanks to those extra-inning games.

   IS TERRY FRANCONA FOCUSED ENOUGH ON HIS JOB? That was the big question on the air this morning, since the skipper had come to Providence to give a motivational speech at some corporate lovefest yesterday (we just have a bad taste in our mouths about that stuff around here since Rick Pitino spent a good part of his Celtics days chasing $50K speaking gigs). I'm not ready to consign Tito to a van down by the river, but I certainly wasn't in agreeance with sending Foulke to get six outs instead of his usual three, particularly with a game the next afternoon (today's game wound up being rained out). We love to see closers work hard for the big bucks, but you just have to look at all the times the Sox hit Mariano Rivera the past few years - in some of those games, perhaps out of lack of trust in his setup guys, Joe Torre sent Rivera out there in the eighth, and it caught up with them. It's not Rivera's or Foulke's fault - it's just the way closers are bred these days. Sure, Matt Clement got smacked around like a government mule and couldn't get through the fifth with an 8-3 lead, but Francona's got to trust the guys in the rump end of the bullpen in the fifth and sixth. Maybe Matt Mantei's ankle was still sore and John Halama had to be saved for a possible start, but last night would've been a good time to see what Blaine Neal had. Sure, he's the 11th guy on the staff and might be gone once the staff's back to full strength (including Wade Miller, pitching at Pawtucket tomorrow), but if Neal's designated for blowout use only, why's he here?

   WHY DID MANAGEMENT EVER LET PEDRO AND D-LOWE GO? Yes, they're kicking ass and taking names right now. But remember last year, when y'all were complaining what a diva Pedro was and wondering if Lowe would pitch a three-hit shutout or get KO'd in the third inning? Sure, it's okay to wish Theo Epstein would've worked Carl Pavano a little harder before the Yankees signed him, and wonder if injury questions like Schilling and Miller will hold up come the dog days. Injuries happen, and the Sox braintrust didn't make as big a mistake as Steinbrenner and Co. did giving big bucks to Jaret Wright when they could've kept Jon Leiber for almost the same money. Look at it this way - it keeps Bronson Arroyo in the rotation for awhile.

   ARE THE ORIOLES LEGIT? That offense of theirs certainly is - the most painful part of last night's loss is coming up empty after shelling Rodrigo Lopez, who usually looks Pedro Martinez-like against the Sox. I don't see the pitching holding up through June, but if it does, we have a three-way Eastern Division race. They're not in the same league with the Yankees or Sox financially, but their pockets are deep enough to make a move at the trade deadline if they're still in the race. After years of being a seller, Baltimore may become a buyer.

   What a well-timed rainout. Now, two days to rest and regroup before a seven-game trip to Texas and Toronto.

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   As if Steinbrenner needs any more reason to kick himself...

   While the Orioles beat the Yankees five out of six, the Sawx walked into Camden Yards and stoned Baltimore over 18 innings. And the sweetest part - it came with two guys NOT named Schilling. David Wells brings the curveball and shuts down the vaunted O offense for eight innings, and then Matt Clement decided to stop nibbling and let his stuff fly, with the same results.

   We've come a long way for 48 hours ago, when some of the finest baseball brains in the world were speculating how long Terry Francona would remain manager after Alan Embree and Keith Foulke couldn't hold a 3-1 lead after seven innings against Toronto. Francona pulling Manny Ramirez from left and Kevin Millar from first for defensive replacements after Big Papi's homer gave Boston the lead became the 21st-century equivalent of Bill Buckner being left at first for the bottom of the tenth inning 19 years ago.

   Oh, those radio guys, giving us a little paranoia for old time's sake. How many times did Francona make that move last year (isn't that why the Sox traded for Doug Mientkiewicz?). And with Manny having tweaked his occasionally troublesome quadricep after making a running catch in the gap and blasting a tape-measure job that nearly caused a 40-car pileup on the Mass Pike...never mind. 

   A few leftovers from this current warm streak:

   * Sure, Schilling may have to adjust to this trend of opposing teams trying to turn every at-bat into Reggie Jackson-Bob Welch in Game 2 of the '78 Series, but who else could throw 40 pitches in an inning without giving up a run?

   * It's a good thing Shonda S. probably walked some of the Boston Marathon (or needed a half-hour to cross the starting line from the back of the sweating masses in Hopkinton) on her way to a finish in just over five hours. Curt probably got out of the ballpark just in time to cheer her on through Kenmore Square after that nearly four-hour comedy of foul balls and foul fielding Monday.

   * Okay, who draws the short straw and tells Bronson Arroyo he's out of the rotation when Wade Miller comes back? Wade's probably two decent starts from reaching Boston as the Minor League Rehab Option Tour '05 takes him through Portland and Pawtucket.

   * Who goes when Miller comes back, since the roster includes 12 pitchers? Being a lefty probably gives John Halama the edge over Blaine Neal (although Pawtucket is loaded with lefty relief trade bait right now).

   * Sox radio announcer Jerry Trupiano on Toronto reliever Vinnie Chulk Monday: "Chulk chews his chaw as he checks the runner on first. Is he named Chuck?" 

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   There. Feel better?

   Most pro athletes find slumpbusters at the end of the bar about five minutes before last call. The Red Sox find theirs when the Tampa Bay Devil Rays come to visit.

   The future looks bright for the Devil Dogs, thanks to a commitment to their productive farm system and seven regulars age 24 or younger (eight when my fellow Bishop Hendricken High School alum Rocco Baldelli returns from his blown ACL sometime in July). But this weekend, they've jump-started three critical pieces of Red Sox machinery.

   In his first two starts, David Wells looked like your typical 41-year-old gone to seed on too much Budweiser and Hostess products. Last night, suddenly, that dirty curveball reappears, and the Boomer baffles them for seven shutout innings. Was he that good, or was the Tampa Bay lineup that bad? We'll soon find out. Hideo Nomo may weigh half a Boomer, but his arm was out to seed last night - eight runs in two-plus innings, including a David Ortiz grand slam.

   If I smoked, Matt Clement would've taken me through a whole pack of Marlboros in each of his first two starts - he loves the drama and adventure. Tonight, he decided to be an effective third starter, holding TB to one run over seven innings and, more importantly, allowing just two walks. Matty can be an $8 million pitcher and a big winner when he skips those bases on balls.

   Finally, Manny has gone deep.

   After a 10-game home run draught, Manny took advantage of Dewon Brazelton's inability to keep the ball in the park, launching a two-run bomb in the second inning and a grand slam in the fourth. The monster is waking up.

   A sweep would be real nice, fellas, with the division-leading (?) Blue Jays coming to down for the Patriot's Day matinee. It would also take advantage of the Yankees' sudden inability to beat Baltimore (what is up with losing to Bruce Chen last night? He's only 27 and on his eighth major league team - he's been passed around more than Jennifer Jason Leigh in the finale of "Last Exit to Brooklyn"). 

 

dp8362 at 10:56:48 PM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 0 comments: Add your own

   For almost six games, the Red Sox and the Yankees played nice, and the fans were behaving themselves. We should be revelling today in the Red Sox' three-homer shelling of Randy Johnson and the three-run rally in the eighth that pulled out the deciding game of the three-gamer at Fenway.

   Instead, we're all talking about Gary Sheffield and that (10-letter expletive made famous by Ian McShane deleted) out in the right field stands.

   Whoever you are (and the combined forces of the Boston and New York media WILL find out your name, age, employer, alma mater, political affiliation, etc.), you are an embarassment to Red Sox Nation. You thought you were gonna be a hero by popping Sheffield in the kisser (and don't insult my intelligence by insisting you were reaching for the rolling ball)? Please.

   Just when it looked like we had finally gotten past the animosity of the past two seasons and back to some good, hard baseball, some jabroni tries to screw it up. It only takes one (or two, if you count the guy who tried to douse Shef with a beer as he threw - if I've invested $7 in a ballpark beer, I'm treating it with a little more respect than to hum its contents at a player or leave it on the railing for the slightest contact with it or the wall to knock it off).

   As ugly as this looked, we could've had a catastrophe on the level of Pacers-Pistons. Luckily, Shef came up short on his initial pop at the guy, then thought better of diving into the stands after him, and Fenway security was right on top of it.

   We're all fortunate that these two teams don't play again until Memorial Day weekend in New York - it gives the Bronx hooligans who might've responded to this incident in kind a little cooling-off period.

   And if the two women who were ducking the incident were the dates of the front-row assclown and his high-fiving buddy ... hopefully they've seen "Sideways" and have a motorcycle helmet handy. If the law didn't give them a smackdown, somebody else needs to.

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   "Oh, jeez, there goes Francona again, catering to Schilling and leaving him in too long!"

   Nice to know life goes on, doesn't it? We haven't forgotten how to whine and moan on talk radio after all.

   Yes, Curt seemed to run out of gas last night after shutting out the Yankees through the first four innings. Would I have left him in for the sixth? Also yes.

   New York's win was a tribute to making the starting pitcher work hard from the get-go. Even through four innings, with Schill allowing just three hits and no walks, he was up close to 80 pitches. That's how the Yankee and Red Sox offenses operate - wait for opportunities, spoil any borderline-looking pitch and foul it off, don't just go up there and indiscriminately hack away.

   Six innings, 100-110 pitches - resonable limits for He Who Wears the Bloody Sock. That's about what he did in Indianapolis last Thursday - and he looked much better his last three innings than he did in his first three. He just had to work a little harder last night, to the point that he left one hanging and Jason Giambi took full advantage (looks like Giambi got all the poison out of his system last year and can go deep again). It happens sometimes when power pitcher takes on power hitter.

   I'm less disappointed about Schilling's performance than I am about the offense, which went back to old habits after puttin' 'em on and gettin' 'em home Monday. The boys just let Jaret Wright off the hook - he skated through five innings, allowing only two runs. Then the Yankee bullpen was on, and the Sox got not a sniff for the rest of the game, even from Mariano Rivera.

   There's no room to waste those kinds of opportunities against the Big Unit tonight - he's got a better bullpen behind him than he used to in Seattle, when he traditionally left with a lead and could only sit back and watch it disappear. Oh well, we'll be treated to the spectacle of A-Rod crowding the plate against Bronson Arroyo - you know what happens next...

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   A few thoughts while waiting for the ceremonies to end and hostilities to resume:

   * Those world championship rings aren't paste.

   * Thanks, Dodgers and Padres, for letting Derek Lowe and Dave Roberts come out - it would've been difficult to see the three series-clinching victories and the biggest stolen base in Red Sox history go unrepresented. But I have the feeling that even if the Mets didn't have their home opener today, Pedro wouldn't have shown face.

   * Speaking of Prima Donna Petey, he threw a complete-game two-hitter at Atlanta yesterday. We'll think about it the next time David Wells takes the mound.

   * Perhaps the definition of a quality start is six innings with three or fewer runs, but watching Matt Clement yesterday makes me wonder if the term should be redefined.

   * Edgar Renteria had four hits the first week - two of them 2-RBI singles in the ninth inning. Mr. Clutch goes slumming below the Mendoza line.

   * Have you seen any uglier scoreboard than that Gatorade green pair on the outfield walls at the Skydome (oh, excuuuuuuuuse me, Rogers Centre)? Johnny Damon picked up six stitches in his elbow Friday night after running into one, and Vernon Wells complained that the color blinded him - no home field advantage there.

   * Mariano Rivera got the biggest cheers in the introductions - Red Sox included. You have to admire his mental equilibrium, tipping his cap to the enemy fans - boy, is he gonna hear about it in the New York media, though.

   * And Carl Pavano gets another cap tip - he didn't even drop after taking that line drive to the head yesterday. Granted, he didn't take it full in the grill like Bryce Florie did a few years ago, but you don't expect to see him jogging out of the dugout 24 hours later, either.

   * The Sox need to take advantage of some scoring opportunities - they'd be 4-2 instead of 2-4 ifthey'd done a little better job of it.

   * As for retaliation from Mike Timlin plunking Derek Jeter in the eighth inning last Wednesday, it probably waits until Wednesday night. The Sox and Jaret Wright have had some heat dating back to his Cleveland days. Manny Ramirez may have been an old teammate, but he might be the guy picking a Wright fastball out of his earflap (I would've thought Tanyon Sturtze throwing at Trot Nixon the more likely beanball scenario, but with Sturtze coming on to replace Pavano yesterday, he probably gets today off). 

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   There have been some discussions in the finer salons on Red Sox Nation over the past week speculating that Sox fans have lost the passion they once had. There's been some talk about how now that they're experienced a world championship, the whole affair doesn't matter as much as it used to.

   Anyone who even suggests that deserves some Curt Schilling heat right in the earflap.

   All kidding aside, we can't be virgins again. Nothing can equal the first one in 86 years. The tales of your dying elderly relatives willing themselves to stick around long enough to see one - that's history.

   But there's only thing more difficult than winning a franchise's first world championship in most people's lifetimes: defending it. That's why, instead of feeling jaded about three Super Bowls in four years, we dual citizens of Patriot Nation can take just as much satisfaction in SBXXXIX as we did in XXXVI. True, the kick of XXXVI can never be equaled (like your first shot of morphine, if you're into that kind of thing), but life goes on, and you find larger goals.

   Think of the 2004 title as just the beginning. Come on, did Yankee fans go into angst like this during 1936-39, or 1949-53, or 1996-98 (and 2000)? There's nothing wrong with wanting to equal, or surpass, these legendary championship runs. Victory is a narcotic, and soon enough, that need for a fix will be coursing through the veins.

   Perhaps we're confusing the loss of passion with a newfound patience, a sense that things will work out well if given time, and a refusal to panic. The 2004 team had a stretch of almost three months where things didn't go too well, with one leak springing up after another, which drove up the anger expressed on talk radio and the Net. That happens when you haven't won the big one.

   You're not ready to hit the panic button over today's bullpen failure? Good. Yes, the bullpen sucked today in particular, turning a 5-5 seventh-inning tie into a 12-5 loss at Toronto, and hasn't been that good in general (14 earned runs in 14 1/3 innings). Even Keith Foulke came this close to blowing a three-run lead in the ninth last night. And David Wells deserves a special pie in the face ("Mmmmmm...pie!," I can hear him saying) for giving up back-to-back-to-back bombs over the left field fence in the third, although he settled down long enough for the Sox to erase the 5-1 deficit against Roy Halladay.

   But history tells us that the past two seasons, the Sox bullpen had periods where it seemed Johnny Human Torch was racking up the innings and double digits on the ERA. And in both cases, the bullpen delivered big down the stretch and in the playoffs. And this isn't the first time Manny Ramirez has gotten off to a slow start, either.

   I'd rather be 5-0 than 2-3 right now, but don't push the panic button (or overanalyze your failure to). With victory came maturity and wisdom. Embrace those two qualities, fellow citizens. Be not afraid of them.

   That said, it would behoove Matt Clement to throw strikes tomorrow. Losing two out of three against a team that was the Sox' chew toy last season will test the patience severely.   

  

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   Well, he got his work in today, anyway - over 100 pitches in six innings.

   Whether Curt Schilling is ready to take the mound at Fenway Wednesday night against the Yankees is up to Red Sox management to puzzle over. Plenty of future Pittsburgh Pirates (or not-quites) took their cuts against him today in Inadianapolis on the International League's opening day, and most enjoyed some success against him as the Indians spoiled the Pawtucket Red Sox' 2005 debut, 7-5.

   Schill gave up seven runs in six innings on 11 hits, including home runs that Edwards Guzman and Ryan Doumit can tell their grandchildren about. He was really done in by a four-run second, only allowing one hard-hit ball as Indy dinked and doinked him (Shawn Wooten may provide some power and insurance as catcher on the varsity if Jason Varitek or Doug Mirabelli gets hurt, but a first baseman he isn't). He did record six strikeouts without a walk.

   Wooten and outfielder Justin Sherrod hit home runs to spark a PawSox comeback that fell just short.

   If you're wondering how in the world I picked up an Indianapolis telecast, it didn't require crawling up on my crumbling roof to install a satellite dish. Cox3 and Comcast8, cable access channels in much of Red Sox Nation, picked up the feed from Indy's Channel 40.

   'Twas a very different telecast, indeed. If you think Red Sox and Yankee broadcasts are inundated with promos read by the play-by-play guys, that's nothing compared to hearing practically every Chevy dealership and Mexican restaurant in Indiana get plugged - the poor guy spent more time whoring the products than he did calling the game. Note to old Dodger fans - Carl Erskine is alive and very well as the color guy (he only had to read the ads on the Ebbets Field outfield walls back in his day). 

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   Within about 12 hours, the Red Sox went from a world of hurt to kings of the world.

   As if dropping the first two games to the Yankees wasn't bad enough, many Sox players arrived at Yankee Stadium to learn Terry Francona had been carted off to the hospital with tightness in his chest. Given Terry's recent medical history, it wasn't a happy thought - it brought back unpleasant memories of my own late-night trip to the hospital with chest pains (eventually diagnosed as a muscle spasm, not the blood clot I feared) a week after my knee surgery in '02. His testing will continue in Boston as Brad Mills likely gets to play skipper this week in Toronto.

   Why not? Mills is 1-0 after a game which will give the Yankees just as much heartburn (Steinbrenner doesn't look too well, either) as the Red Sox had to endure yesterday. The Sox did everything possible to blow this one - lose a 2-0 lead, leave runners on base and hit into three double plays, waste the first decent start of the year from Tim Wakefield and endure a Johnny Damon baserunning gaffe (damn those pop- up slides into second on ball four).

   But would've thought we'd see a ninth inning in which:

   *Mariano Rivera gives up three walks and gets the hook.

   *A-Rod butchers a ground ball that should've been the inning-ending double play.

   * Big Papi drives in the winning run with a weak dribbler.

   * Edgar Renteria avenges yesterday's botched double play with a two-run single.

   Either Rivera has something physically wrong (the talk about his cutter having lost at least 5 mph is growing louder), or the Sox have gotten into his skull much worse than the Yankees ever got into Pedro Martinez'. That's now four straight blown saves by a probable first-ballot Hall of Famer.

   But the day didn't end there for the world champions. Oh, no.

   Bobby and Peter Farrelly didn't stage the East Coast premiere of "Fever Pitch" in their home state this time (the Rhode Island boys opened "There's Something About Mary" and "Stuck on You" at the charming old and lovingly restored Stadium Theatre in Woonsocket). They rolled out the red carpet at Fenway Park this time, for the Red Sox just as much as the movie stars.

   A few observations while waiting a half-hour for NESN to get to the "Sox in 2" of today's game:

   * After seeing Mrs. Damon 2.0 co-host the festivities (and go backless in the cool Boston air), I would keep sharp objects away from Mrs. Damon 1.0.

   * Did Tom Brady go to either concentration or boot camp instead of Disney World after the Super Bowl? It's the only explanation I can offer for that new 'do of his.

   * I don't know if NESN anticipated an event like this when they hired her for "Sportsdesk" last summer, but Hazel Mae busted out some serious cleavage - she outdid Drew Barrymore in that area. Blatant bid for a Maxim layout, eh?

   * Most of the players' speaking roles in the movie were cut, but they graciously reprised them for the cameras. After his playing career's done, Jason Varitek may have a future playing villains.

   * After my rather intense and loud viewing of the playoffs drove Mrs. Sawxophile upstairs screaming for much of last October, she is actually interested in seeing this movie. That's why Drew B. is the reigning queen of the chick flicks (this smells like one wrapped in the vestments of Sox fandom).

   * I've made a decision: I'm not going to let the shooting in center field at Busch Stadium keep me away (and in the spirit of championship hangover, I'll give Jimmy Fallon a pass on past transgressions). I've read enough commentary and bloggage the past few days to realize there is a rancid air of self-righteousness in the position that the Farrelly brothers, and Hollywood by extension, defiled sacred ground (DISCLOSURE: there's hardly a Rhode Islander who doesn't know them or have some connection to them - I went to high school with their cousin). It was a bold, enterprising move - we usually applaud athletes who make moves like that. And I usually applaud filmmakers who risk the wrath of the puritans - I'm sure there was just as much anger in the Bible belt about Quentin Tarentino having a hit man quote the Old Testament before blowing somebody's skull to bits.

  

  

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