OCD and OBP

5.3.03 - Does anyone remember the old Nomar?

The bigger the situation, the harder he'd hit the ball. Everything was a rope. Or a bomb. Remember those two playoff series against the Indians? Or the ALCS against the Yankees? In 54 postseason plate appearances he has an impossible 1.399 OPS with a .383 BA, .463 OBP and a .936 slugging percentage. These numbers just don't happen in October.

During his back-to-back batting title seasons of 1999 and 2000 I'm sure Nomar popped weakly to the right side on a pitch out of the strike zone a couple of times. I just can't remember it. Now it seems to happen every time he comes to the plate with a runner in scoring position.

What changed?

Can it all be traced to Sept. 25, 1999 when Baltimore's Al Reyes dotted Nomar on the longitudinal tendon? Nomar played the entire 2000 season with the tendon fraying, hit .372 and, most encouragingly, drew a career high 61 walks. But then the dam burst, the tendon split and all the progress he had made in raising his OBP from .345 his rookie year to .439 in year four was seemingly wiped away.  When he came back, he was jumping at the ball, swinging at everything and resolutely refusing to draw a walk as he posted a .352 OBP in 21 games.

But 21 post-surgery games was hardly a fair sample to gauge just how much Nomar had regressed in his hitting approach. So we all waited with bated breath for 2002. He had almost 700 plate appearances last year and walked 41 times, repeating the .352 OBP he had put up in his abbreviated 2001 season. The strength certainly seemed to have returned to his wrist as he piled up 85 extra-base hits, including 24 home runs. But the modicum of patience he was slowly starting to develop over his first four seasons was gone.

Compounding the OBP problem, Nomar was no longer killing first pitches. Why?

I think something else was happening concurrently with Nomar's rehabilitation/
comeback. Word was going around: Do not throw this guy a first pitch strike. He will chase balls up, he will chase balls down, he will chase balls away. So when Nomar returned to full strength, he was facing a completely different league, a league in which the only first-pitch strikes he saw were mistakes. He didn't adjust, hitting .325 on first pitches, down from .432 in 2000. Nomar defenders, indeed Nomar himself, will say, "What's wrong with hitting .325?" Well, while .325 is an excellent batting average, it is a lousy on-base percentage, and no one ever drew a walk by putting the first pitch in play. Furthermore, giving pitchers one-pitch outs 67.5 percent of the time is no way to get into the opposition bullpen. So far this year, Nomar seems to have regressed even more with a .323 OBP in the reasonable sample of 140 plate appearances. Apparently someone didn't get the memo about building pitch counts because he's walked only six times, on pace for a 715-AB, 34-walk season.

Particularly distressing has been Nomar's inability to hit with men in scoring position. It's not just the outs, it's the kind of outs. It has become all too familiar.  The Sox arduously load the bases (often through steely patience), the crowd rises in expectation, the opposing pitcher is hanging by a thread. And Nomar pops up the first pitch, deflating the team, the crowd and his OBP and BA with RISP. 

Pitchers are naturally more cautious with runners in scoring position (particularly if first base is open), meaning hitters should be more selective, but Nomar becomes completely incontinent in these situations, often lunging at first pitches as if he were saddled with an 0-2 count and forced to protect the plate. So far this season he is 6-for-39 with RISP, a .154 batting average. He should bat behind Manny for two reasons: one, because he has a much lower OBP, and, two, so that he could watch from the proximity of the on-deck circle a professional hitter who understands the value of getting his pitch.

But on a deeper, more philosophical level, why do you suppose Nomar is such an undisciplined, impatient hitter? I would argue that he is medically incapable of patience. Stay with me here.

In case you haven't noticed, Nomar Garciaparra has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. The batting gloves, the spikes, the dugout steps. He is ticking at a different RPM. I'll bet he's not real good at sitting in traffic either. All the ticks, the tugs, the tap dancing down the steps would be merely quirky and endearing if he could then slow himself down when the pitcher comes to the set. Relax, pick out a zone and a pitch and work the at-bat until you get that pitch you can drive. Manny is so relaxed at the plate he looks like he could nod off in the wind-up and awake in time to hit yet another rocket. The difference: Manny needs to be convinced to swing by the attractiveness of the pitch; Nomar needs to be convinced not to swing by the unreachability of a pitch.

But wait, you say, Nomar had OCD when he was winning batting titles and getting on base over 40% of the time. True, but for some reason pitchers were throwing him strikes. The coiled snake, high-strung nervous energy of OCD is probably a good thing when pitchers are throwing cookies. Combine the new book on Nomar with his old habits, however, and you get too many easy outs and an unacceptably low OBP for such a gifted hitter.

Even when pitchers do throw him first pitch strikes with men in scoring position, it's often a breaking ball, like the hanging curve he belted from Roy Halliday to double home the tying run before hitting his solo walk-off shot two innings later. 

The solution? Nomar should approach first pitches like most hitters view 3-1 pitches. If it's not a fatty in his happy zone, he should take it. He'll find he's up in the count 1-0 an awful lot. At 1-0, narrow the happy zone even further. Once he starts getting ahead 2-0 and 3-1, he'll have a month where he hits .400 and word will get out that Nomar is no longer expanding the zone on first pitches and we'll see a return to those 1999 and 2000 numbers.

If Nomar develops some peace and stillness at the plate, watch out. Cure the OCD and you'll cure the OBP.

Take a pitch, buddy.

Smell the Gloves: They Stink

5.4.03: Oh, God. I think I'm going to be sick. 

I haven't squirmed like this since I watched my fiancée get laser eye surgery.

The Red Sox don't "play" defense, they "fight" defense. I'm still trying to figure out which of today's throws to the plate was most nauseating: Johnny Damon's embarrassing fling from shallow center, Nomar's almost physically impossible misfire from shallow left or Shea Hillenbrand's gack from 70 feet away. Sure, the bullpen has been a disaster, but that could be largely solved with one deadline acquisition. The team's wretched defense and organization-wide disregard for its importance will plague the Sox this season and beyond. And don't be fooled by fielding percentage. While the Sox made a bunch of errors in dropping this weekend's series, it's the balls they don't get to, the DPs they don't turn and the cutoff men they miss that kill them.

Where to begin? Well, since we embarrassed ourselves against the Twins, let's start with our twins: David Ortiz and Jeremy Giambi.

Ortiz and Giambi are clones offensively. Ortiz has a career .264 batting average with an .805 career OPS and Giambi has an identical .264 BA and an .809 OPS.  They are both incredibly slow and yet in their brief time with the Sox both have hit the ball on the ground more than in the air. But the real similarity is on defense, where both are zeroes. I watched a spring training game in which Ortiz looked lost on a bunt popped in front of him, let another popup land right behind him and butchered a routine ground ball. No range, no instincts, no hands. What does it say that Grady Little believes Giambi is worse? And why would you need both these players on your roster? Do we really need to do more research on the October effectiveness of stockpiling slow, stone-gloved DH-types? These guys are the poster children for not caring about defense. Can you imagine how quickly the bile would fill your throat on a difficult chopper hit to Ortiz's right in a close playoff game?

What about new acquisitions Todd Walker and Kevin Millar? I love their approach at the plate, but, again, they are significantly below average defensively. Walker's range limitations are well-documented, his pivot is less than slick, his arm unimpressive and his hands none too soft. 

Millar is a gamer, a terrific hitter and clearly a wonderful teammate. I love this guy.  But without a bat in his hand, he's hurting the team. For some reason he was playing first in the bottom of the ninth with a one-run lead in Anaheim last weekend - perhaps Grady forgot that he had dubbed Shea our late-inning defensive first baseman. Millar charged a ball he should have waited on, turned it into an in-between hop and booted it. It wasn't that he made an error -- everyone does -- it was the way he booted it that was so depressing. In that moment, your suspicions were confirmed. Our new favorite player is basically another DH.

Against the Twins Friday night Millar had three misplays that were not errors, the most embarrassing of which was being several feet from the bag as he tried to complete a routine 3-6-3 double play. The ball finds your weak defenders. And on this team, how can it not?

Today, the Sox created one of the largest Bermuda triangles in Major League history by starting Millar in right with Ortiz at first, leaving second baseman Bill Mueller responsible for all the acreage between the two thick-wasted statues. If you remember, though you can be excused for trying to forget, all the trouble started on a pop fly by Dustin Mohr down the right-field line with the Sox leading 4-0. Mueller made a solid effort in trying to reach the ball, but Millar and Ortiz weren't even in the picture when the ball plunked down in fair territory. Captain Ahab and Peter Stuyvesant would cover more ground than this seemingly peg-legged duo.

While we're out there, let's talk about our regular rightfielder. Trot Nixon tries his hardest on every play. It is very hard to fault a guy for this. But here goes. Most of Trot's defensive mistakes stem from his consuming desire. Even though his arm is not in the Ichiro-Vlad class, he wants to throw everyone out, no matter if the guy is already three-quarters of the way home as the ball reaches him. This leads to his chronic airmailing of the cutoff man. How many times has a runner moved up into scoring position under the comical parabola of one of Trot's rainbows? But perhaps the best example to date of Trot's desire hurting the team came last week against Kansas City. With two outs and nobody on, Carlos Beltran hit a sinking line drive at Trot. Base hit all the way. But valor always being the better part of discretion for Trot, he made a ridiculous dive for the ball, failed to get a glove on it and had the ball bounce over him for an inside-the-park home run. It reminded me of Mike Greenwell's "bad hustle," the kind of unthinking effort that announcers usually excuse with the lame "you can't fault a guy for hustling like that." Guess what?  You can. You should. Dumb plays are dumb plays. With the winning run on third, you dive for that ball. With two outs and nobody on in a scoreless game, you take it on a hop. 

And why does Johnny Damon look like he's throwing with his off hand? This is the throwing motion my mom uses to toss the football around with her grandson. Seriously, can a guy have this weak an arm in the Major Leagues? He would have the third-strongest outfield arm on my softball team. (I'm not kidding.) In today's debacle, the less-than-speedy Corey Koskie tagged and scored on a 200-foot pop fly to center. I actually thought Damon's throw might come to rest before it reached home plate. The worst part is that even Johnny was apparently surprised that someone would try to score on such a shallow pop, so instead of gathering behind the ball and catching it in mid-crow-hop, he caught it flat-footed before starting his arthritic, herky-jerky throwing motion. 

Which brings us to today's other two nominees for most humiliating imitation of an adult male throwing a baseball.

For the second time this season -- anyone remember Pedro's lone unearned run in the Opening Day calamity? -- Shea Hillenbrand failed to throw a guy out at the plate when he could have beaten the runner by rolling the ball home. But, in fairness, Shea continues to improve at the hot corner, and if he plays a couple games at first each week, I'll bet he doesn't even lead the league in errors by a third baseman for the second straight year.

Nomar, however, made a strong statement Friday night that he won't give up the American League Error Crown he won last year without a fight. After leading the league with 25 E's last season, Nomar doubled his early-season total with three E-6's in Friday's loss to the Twins. Somehow he avoided another error today when the official scorer awarded Michael Cuddyer a triple -- on a ball into the left-field corner? -- after Nomar made one of his classic Bend It Like Beckham throws, oh, 30 feet off target in the direction of home plate. The sad thing is that all three runners would have been out at home with the simplest C+ throws.

So let's sum up:

The Red Sox left side each led their position in errors last year. The Red Sox new right side is a significant downgrade from last year and perhaps the worst in the American League. The centerfielder can't throw. This team was built for 12-9 games in July.

What is it again that wins championships? Pitching and...

Premature Exasperation: Homestand Rekindles Hope

4.22.03  No word yet on whether John Burkett will attend this year's All-Star Game if he's named to the team.

Just kidding, J.B. We pretty much knew what we were getting at the back of the rotation: lots of baserunners, lots of rockets, lots of long relief. So it's never a surprise when Burkett or Casey Fossum fails to go six or seven.

But there were certainly some pleasant surprises on this 7-2 homestand. (Reader warning: Hench about to be positive. Okay, largely positive.)

Weren't we all amazed at how good an ugly uniform can look during a comeback win? When the Red Devils gathered at home plate to welcome Nomar after his Saturday walk-off shot they looked positively resplendent. Of course overcoming a 5-0 deficit against an All-Star ace could make Padre mustard and brown look good. Sure, the red shirts look like batting practice jerseys, but they're damn purty when the Sox start taking BP in the late innings.

Shea Hillenbrand is amazing. Can you imagine how hard it is to hit Major League pitching when you lack the fundamental ability to gauge the path of a pitched ball? When the ball leaves the pitcher's hand, some hitters can tell immediately that that pitch will be in the dirt or way outside. With Shea, it's like he picks the ball up ten feet from home plate and reacts, which makes his hitting that much more phenomenal. This guy can go down on one knee and drive the ball to a gap or dive out over the plate and slap the ball down the right-field line. If the strike zone was the size of a soccer goal, the former All-State striker would be the best player in the game this side of Vlad Guerrero. Shea has been more patient this year, but not necessarily more selective (if that makes any sense). He takes pitches for the sake of taking pitches, not because they look like balls to him. As a result, he is often down in the count, but it hardly matters because he is such a wizard when it comes to hitting bad pitches hard. But more than his typical April offensive output, I've been so impressed with his defense. He made several superior plays at third this past week, including a dazzling 5-u-4 double play on which he made a strong throw to second while fading away into foul territory. It was an aggressive, confident play. Now, seriously, trade him for a pitcher already.

Though it is a confounding puzzlement why Nomar's throws seem to be so much more accurate on spectacular plays than on the routine ones, his play on Aubrey Huff in the Ice Bowl series against the D-Rays belongs in his all-time top 10. To go that far to his right and make that strong a throw in those conditions, well, you just have to tip your ski mask to him. Now if we could only eliminate those nasty splitters he throws after scooping balls hit right at him.

At the risk of calling attention to it, jinxing it and bringing down the whole freakin' house of cards, have you noticed that you're starting to expect Manny to make plays in left field? That you no longer hold your breath on every ball hit his way? That you're not even that shocked when he makes a running, lunging catch? Not enough was made of his barehand snag, spin and throw that preserved the first win at Baltimore. Why am I already regretting this paragraph?

Mike Timlin looks sharp. He's been challenging hitters with the same moxie that a bumper sticker above his locker taunts peaceniks. It describes the peace symbol as "The footprint of the American chicken." I wonder if Jason Varitek is reluctant to call for a curve for fear of misinterpretation. (Apparently glib comparisons between our Committee and H.U.A.C. were more accurate than we'd thought.) Just keep getting ahead in the count, Mike.

Tim Wakefield is a stud. If his stuff is crap, he finds a way to keep us in the game. If his stuff is awesome, he spends the whole day looking at the back of his catcher and he still finds a way to keep us in the game. If you could teach mound demeanor, Wake 101 would be a required course.

Kevin Millar announced himself with a game-winning home run in the second game of the season, and despite a 1-for-14 slide to end the homestand, he is rightly the fan favorite of the moment. He is a patient, professional hitter with power who also looks like our best fielder in the first baseman starting rotation (faint praise, to be sure). And he is clearly a great teammate. Watching him maul Nomar on Saturday was a joy.

And you can't love Millar without giving Theo Epstein his due. He refused to let alienating other GMs or prohibitive international long distance charges keep him from getting his man. The bullpen's recent run of success probably hasn't calmed the palpitations across New England - and beyond - and does anyone really believe Kevin Tolar and Jason Shiell are longterm solutions? But Millar has justified the Kid's doggedness and the team's offseason phone bill.

I would like to say something nice about Trot Nixon's hot start, but the Leo Durocher in me won't let me until he goes a whole week without airmailing the cutoff man.

Oh, and Grady... well, he didn't screw anything up too bad.

Now, please Lord, for the love of dinosaurs and moon landings, don't let Carl Everett beat us. In fact, for the sake of the Nation, don't even let the reigning AL Player of the Week come up against the Committee with the game on the line. Thanks.

By Any Acronym, These Guys Stink

4.9.03 TORONTO - Severe Acute Relief Shortcomings.  Sorry Ass Relief Stiffs.  Specialty: Allowing Runs Scored.  Suffering Another Routine Shelling.

Make up your own inappropriate meaning for SARS.  It's about the only fun to be had with this sorry bunch.  Here in the North American capital of Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome, it's perfectly fitting that we all have trouble breathing when Grady Little signals the pen to Summon Awful Retreaded Spares.

How bad is it? After last night's loss in which he gave up his second two-run homer of the young season, Alan Embree said, "I can live with the solo shots."  Really?  Well, there's the closer's mentality we're looking for. That's what you want a guy thinking as he strides in to slam the door:  I gotta limit them to solo homers!

For Red Sox fans, the entrance of Messrs. Embree, Howry, Timlin, Mendoza or Fox triggers Sudden Acid Reflux Sickness.

The scariest part is that none of these guys has actually been asked to work out of a difficult spot.  Embree melted down Opening Day in the cushiest of all possible save situations, three-run lead, bases empty, D-Rays batting.  Howry couldn't solve Rey Ordonez.  Mendoza barely held a five-run lead against the light-hitting O's.  Fox followed his own Opening Day collapse with another remarkable feat:  walking Tony Batista to force in the winning run.  At season's end, the collective OBP of the guys slapping our Sorry Anti Relief System around will be about .300.  If you can't get Rey Ordonez out, what's going to happen against Magglio Ordonez? 

While another poor outing by the bloodblistered D-Lowe is reason for concern, the blistering of our beaten and bloodied bullpen is the bigger problem.  I love Bill James, his abstract is the King James Bible of baseball.  I like Theo Epstein, he's bright, informed and desperately wants to win.  I even liked most of these pitching acquisitions, pre-Theo and after.  But Bobby Howry does not look like the pitcher he was in Chicago.  Chad Fox has clearly not returned to his pre-injury self (and we don't want him building his arm back up on our time via losses to weak teams).  Alan Embree looks less like that dominant power pitcher that was untouchable for a stretch late last summer and more like the journeyman that six teams have given up on.  Ramiro Mendoza looks every bit like the pitcher who has surrendered over a hit an inning in six of his seven years in the bigs and was touched for a .275 OBA last year.  He came up with a 1 6 4 4 0 0 line against the Orioles, and you thought that other Mendoza line was ugly.  And Mike Timlin is in his "decline phase" to use a Bill James term. 

So, kudos to the Kid for being inventive, but while thinking outside the box is great, thinking outside the boxscore is now unacceptable.  And it's time to start remedying the problem.  Prediction:  If the Red Sox obtain a closer, even a shaky one like Armando Benitez, the rest of these guys will pitch better.  

If they do nothing, just consider it Sacrificing Another Regular Season.

Panic Now, Beat the Rush

4.7.03: As I was chewing my nails down to the quick in the top of the ninth inning of Saturday's 2-1 loss to the Orioles, my phone rang. 

To my surprise, the plaintive voice on the other end was not a fellow Red Sox fan, but rather that of a Mets fan who had confidently included Pedro Martinez on a three-team parlay.

"What the hell is he doing?" my bewildered buddy asked, echoing the question I myself was screaming at the screen.

With nobody out and runners on first and third courtesy of the spectacularly wild Jorge Julio, Grady Little had Bill Mueller attempt a straight sacrifice to move the runner on first into scoring position.  Here was a pitcher who was struggling mightily to register a single strike and Grady was offering him an entire out. I couldn't believe it. Julio was throwing almost 100 miles an hour with movement and was all over the place and our idiot skipper puts on the bunt. I know Grady Little didn't play in The Show, but he did play baseball at some point in his life, right?  Yet clearly, in that moment, ninth inning of a one-run game - that familiar setting where he does his worst work - Grady clearly couldn't grasp that Julio was far more likely to advance the runner on first via another walk than he was to throw a pitch that could be easily bunted.  Mueller predictably - to me and my friend - popped a bunt attempt foul before striking out.

Lost in the tortured welter of lament about our terrible bullpen - and it is terrible - is that the manager is still awful. I mean, if you saw a guy in a pickup softball game slap a groundball to shortstop and then run directly to third base, you'd say, "Wow, this guy doesn't know how to play." Well, guess what, when a manager watches Ramiro Mendoza yield a line drive single, a line drive double, a line drive sac fly, a line drive out, a line drive single, a line drive single and a line drive single and opts to leave him in with the tying run on first, he doesn't know how to manage. And then when Mendoza gives up a booming double and is saved only by a great relay and a generous call all Gomer Grady can offer is some asinine bromide about winning the game or how bravely John Burkett battled.

Can you imagine a more combustible combination? This bullpen being handled by this jackass. Oy. We teach children not to play with matches but part of that deal, of course, is to provide them with other toys. The front office has left a child-like huckleberry with nothing to play with but matches, kindling and lighter fluid. It's almost cruel.

But wait, the Sox are 5-2. They've opened the season with consecutive road series wins for only the fifth time in franchise history. Why the panic across New England? 

Because Red Sox fans are smart. And they know this team cannot win the World Series. They know Chad Fox cannot close out a playoff series with a one-run lead. They know Pedro Martinez cannot pitch in a three-man playoff rotation and that Casey Fossum and John Burkett cannot win a playoff game. They know that a team with good infield defense doesn't yield seven infield hits in one game. They know that Derek Lowe's numbers will decline because that infield defense is so poor. They know this team will almost never successfully turn a 3-6-3 double play. They know this team will pound the soft underbelly of the American League but scuffle against the top tier teams. They know that this slow, potent offense is built for July and will post diminishing returns as the weather gets colder and the games get more important. Red Sox fans are not fooled by 12-2 drubbings of lousy teams. They think only of the big picture, of trying to win a road playoff game in Oakland on a chilly October night with the score tied 2-2 in the ninth and Pedro past his pitch count. 

And they know this team can't do it.

It's so obvious, heck, even Grady Little might know it.

Absolute Joy

Date: Tuesday, February 5, 2002
Subject:  Absolute Joy

Today marked the second morning I have awakened to this unfamiliar feeling.  It is peaceful, relaxed, no anxiety about matchups, no knot in my stomach at the prospect of paradise snatched away.  It is also rather weird. 

One of my longstanding complaints about being a Boston sports fan has been that the joy never seems to measure up to the pain in terms of absolute value.  Sure, the Celtics beat the Rockets in '81 and '86, but they were supposed to.  And yes, it was incredible when we beat the Lakers in Game 7 in '84, but the game was in the Garden where we never lost, except, of course in '85 and '87 when we bowed to the Lakers (see above: pain).  The joy of Hendu and Oil Can and Rocket in Games 5, 6 and 7 of the '86 ALCS was cruelly eradicated by subsequent events, overwhelming in their pain quotient.

But this... this is Bobby Thomson, only better.  This is Bobby Thomson chasing home Hartung and Lockman with his game-winning blast in the seventh game of the World Series.  Remember, the Giants lost the '51 Series to who else.  But Adam Vinatieri's blast won the whole damned thing.  The joy is unmuted.

I've never gotten over the '86 Series.  So it's only fair that I never get over this either.

Pressure Cooker; Pressure Kicker

Date: Monday, February 4, 2002
Subject:  Pressure Cooker; Pressure Kicker

Imagine an event so sweet that even Terry Bradshaw couldn't ruin it by butchering A Hard Day's Night with Paul McCartney, which somone should have told Terry was, after all, a John Lennon song.

I watched the game at an undisclosed location, in sweet solitude, locked in, tracking every excruciating tick with no distractions, no finger-waving Rams fans (how could there be any real ones?), no question-asking broads, no unsolicited consolation, no half-sincere words of encouragement.  Just me and the Pats (New England and Summerall, in what has to be one of the more awkward on-air farewells.)

So many great moments to relive forever... like, damn Vinatieri tagged that friggin' ball.  Did you see how quickly it got up?  I don't think I've ever seen a truer kick, dead solid perfect in the biggest pressure cooker in football history.

Life is sweet...

Kev
Still unsure how to behave with an unbroken heart 

Happy Holidays

Date:  Thursday, December 13, 2001
From: Kevin Hench
Subject:  Happy Holidays

Hallelujahs and high-fives all around that Big Poison is gone.

From the looks of it, Duke (who must go next) sought out the absolutely worst possible deal, almost as a poke in Jurassic's eye, like, "Hey, S***head, you're not even worth a crappy pitcher with a 6.02 ERA.  We have to toss in money to boot. F*** you very much."

As bad as Lankford is, I think he could have made the team, which Oliver will be hard-pressed to do if we sign Burkett and Adams. 

Clubhouse issues aside, I'll be happy not to see S***head swinging at pitches over his head or in the dirt.

Not that any of it matters now that the Yankees are a mortal lock to win 120 games. A team with Giambi, Jeter, Williams, Rivera, Mussina, Soriano, Posada, Pettite and that a**hole with six Cy Youngs could never, ever miss the playoffs.  Salary cap anyone?  I'd happily relinquish all the Red Sox stupid signings to level the playing field.

Even if Dolan got the team and signed Bonds, Gonzalez and Chan Ho Park, we wouldn't be favored in a series against the Yankees.  Depressing.  All very, very depressing.   

Just When It Couldn't Get Any Worse...

Date: Saturday, September 8, 2001
From: Kevin Hench
Subject:  Just When It Couldn't Get Any Worse...

Other than that, Mrs. Chapman,how did you like the game?

Okay, so it wasn't Ray Chapman.  Maybe it wasn't even Tony Conigliaro.  Maybe
it wasn't even as bad as when that whiny guy we released with the 11.42 ERA
got hit in the face last year.

But it was still pretty bad, eh?  Watching Pedro labor - for absolutely no
reason -with a strained, torn or inflamed rotator cuff, depending on whom you
talk to.  Perhaps Pedro believed he had something to prove.  Maybe the
organization - or the little martinet who runs it - having insinuated that
Pedro perhaps hadn't given his all to the team or the fans, painted him into
the Macho Corner, from which 95 percent of all bad male decision-making
emanates.  The Macho Corner has ensnared great men, like Alexander Hamilton,
and not so great men, like Marty McSorley.  What, are you a sissy?  Or worse,
a sissy Federalist?  Good going, Mr. Duquette.  Instead of doing your job and
alleviating the pressure on Pedro and his rotator cuff by making the decision
yourself, you forced him onto that mound last night.  Pedro is smart.  But he
is also very proud.  And a little macho.  So there he was, desperately
straining to prove that he's a tough guy, that he's a gamer, that it wasn't
someone else who threw those six no-hit innings in Cleveland in 1999.

Why, Dan?  Why?

What apparently has not been made clear enough to Dan Duquette is that by
jeopardizing Pedro's health he is almost certainly jeopardizing his own. 
Sure, Sox fans are notorious for screaming threats at those who fail them. 
But Derek Lowe is a big guy, 6-foot-4 when vertical (though considerably
shorter after last call).  As much as a Sox fanatic might want to take a
swing at Derek - God knows opposing hitters race to the bat rack - he is
still a pretty big dude, and the last thing a Sox fan needs after this
nightmare season is to get his ass kicked by Derek Lowe.  Dan Duquette, on
the other hand, is just a regular-sized guy.  Perhaps he is protected by his
brown shirts, that crack security force charged with monitoring wayward first
basemen and pitching coaches.  If not, he should be.  Almost every Sox fan I
talk to wants to break this guy's nose.  Not in that loud, "If I see Bob
Stanley..." way, where the threats are as empty as they are obnoxious.  These
guys really hate Dan Duquette  with a visceral, bilious contempt that would
seem to transcend baseball... if, that is, anything transcended baseball. 
The scary thing is they seem to make a lot of sense.  They argue: Biblically
speaking, if Pedro ended his career last night, wouldn't it be perfectly
acceptable to hold Dan Duquette down and work his shoulder until he could no
longer use his arm?  These thugs could probably find plenty of volunteers for
the holding down part right in the Red Sox clubhouse.

The Duke looks to be playing the part of the scorned soap opera lover who
drives off the cliff with the man who won't leave his wife for her.  It's
almost as if he knows the end is nigh and he is determined to destroy the Red
Sox rather than see someone else succeed where he has failed.  "If I can't
have you, no one will!" And off the cliff.

Personally, I'm a non-violent guy, an MLK guy.  But there are those out
there, adherents to a different philosophy, who believe that violence in
defense of liberty - and undersized All-Star pitchers - is not only
acceptable but at times necessary.  I'm just saying...

Notes:

The play perfectly exemplified the season.  In the second inning Tino
Martinez chopped a 2-2 pitch up the middle, collecting the 47,539th
two-strike hit against the Red Sox this season. As the ball bounded over the
mound, Pedro Martinez stuck his bare hand out, thought better of it
(realizing the game, like his appearance in it, was meaningless), pulled his
hand back and watched it hop toward center field.  The ball kept bouncing as
Red Sox "shortstop" - and I giggle every time I write this - Mike Lansing
made his standard rangeless, choppy-stepped lunge for the ever-slowing
baseball.  Against our brutal infield, seeing-eye singles need only 20-400
vision.  Does Vizquel make this play? Of course.  Ordonez? In his sleep.
Nomar? A-Rod?  Nine out of ten.  Does Mike Lansing come close?  Nope.  Would
any teenager on the streets of San Pedro de Macoris be a huge improvement at
shortstop?  Clearly.  When Lansing made his 14th error of the season later in
the inning, on a routine double-play ball that would have saved Pedro a run,
a loss, and numerous pitches, did it prompt the announcers to point out how
few errors Lansing had made at shortstop this year.   Naturally.  And  this
is the final, knee-in-groin, Kafka-esque insult:  I know I can tune in
tomorrow and listen to Jerry Remy talk about what a great job Mike Lansing
has done at shortstop this year.  He has made aproximately one in 10 plays
that I would deem difficult.  Most he never gets anywhere near.  On others,
moving to his right, he is done in by his second baseman's arm.  He can't
play too deep because of his weak noodle, which further limits his already
agonizingly-limited range.  He never, ever throws anyone out with a relay. 
For someone who grew up on Rick Burleson, it has been excruciating to watch
Mike Lansing butcher the position I so love.  Of course, according to a guy
who played with Rooster, Mike Lansing has done a heckuva job at shortstop
this year.

The Red Sox will have five players strike out 100+ times this season when
Trot, Dauby and Offy join Manny and Carl.  Dante and Troy would also have
long ago joined the century club had they played full seasons.  John
Cumberland could fall on his face on the mound, roll over and piss himself
for all to see, and it still wouldn't be as embarrassing as some of the
strikeouts the aforementioned have suffered this year.  Troy has gone after
pitches slightly above the bill of his batting helmet.  Carl has not only
chased the high ones but also flailed at 50 or so changeups that never
reached the catcher's mitt.  Dante's whiff of choice is the breaking ball
away - way, way, away, in-the-lefty-batter's-box away.  But like used car
salesmen, these guys are impossible to embarrass.  Nice ballclub.

Coming attractions: When Offy reaches 100 strikeouts (he's been stuck on 88
for a few days), I will have the Mother of All Stats for you. ٱ


 

Over and Out

Date: Friday, August 31, 2001
From: Kevin Hench
Subject:  Over and Out

 

Joe Kerrigan is a miracle worker, a wizard, a sorcerer.  He is accomplishing something heretorfore deemed impossible.  He is making Jimy Williams look smart.  We knew this house of cards could collapse at any time.  We just didn't know the manager would bump the table in the second week of his tenure and send the cards tumbling.

Has anyone been able to keep track of how many outs we've made on the bases in the Kerrigan error, I mean era?  It's amazing.  Pretty much the only way this team could have gotten worse is if they abandoned the station-to-station approach that was not born of conservatism but of necessity.  Rule one:  Know your personnel.

When you look at the on-base percentages of some of these guys - Offerman, Hillenbrand, Stynes - you'd think the team would comprehend the preciousness of baserunners.  It's frustrating when Major Leaguers are so confused by their jobs.  Like Bichette in Texas, Hatteberg could well have been safe at home had he slid.  At least Hatteberg ran the catcher instead of surrendering like Mr. Softy.

Trot is down in the .260s, Offy down in the .240s, Carl's pinch hit lifted him out of the .250s.  We stink.  But we can unload $50.7 million in payroll in the off-season, which is nice.
I'm off to Chicago for the weekend, a great city where there is still a team in contention.

Dear Joe Letter

Date: Thursday, August 30, 2001
From: Kevin Hench
Subject:  Dear Joe Letter

Dear Mr. Kerrigan,

You seem like a great guy.  You've got a sense of humor; you're forthright to
a fault; you like and know other sports.  What a refreshing change from the
taciturn curmudgeon you replaced.

Now on to your terrible managing.

I had lots of problems with Jimy Williams.  His reluctance to send runners
was not one of them.  One has to manage according to his personnel.  The
Boston Red Sox are slow and, worse, they are lousy baserunners.  Your charges
have run into so many outs in the last five days that I am losing track.

Here's the problem:  When you have average or below-average speed - which
describes everyone on your roster - you have to cheat a little to swipe a
base.  You have to shift that weight to your right foot, lean and pray the
pitcher is going to the plate when you make your leap of faith.  The team's
complete lack of speed explains this recent spate of pickoffs.  The solution?
 Stop giving the steal sign.  C'mon, Joe, I know you want to do everything
possible to divorce yourself from the previous skipper - slidestepping,
stealing bases, set lineup (hah) - but all you've managed to do in the last
two weeks is become only the second Red Sox manager in 35 years with a losing
record.

Tonight we saw two back-breaking plays that must have originated in your
apparently overrated noggin'. 

With no outs Trot Nixon was picked off first by lefty C.C. Sabathia
when he was clearly going and guessed wrong on where Sabathia was
delivering the ball.  This is doubly defeating.  It kills any potential rally and it
gives the pitcher an out without having to pile up pitches. As frustrating as this
moment was, it paled compared to the real mindbender you threw at us later. 
Leading 1-0 with runners on first and second, one out and a 3-2 count on Jose
Offerman, you sent the runners.  Why?

You have a strikeout pitcher against a strikeout hitter with a slow runner
on second... this is the complete and total formula for not sending the
runners.  Sabathia, like most strikeout pitchers, is also a fly ball pitcher,
so where is the percentage in sending slow runners with a guy at the plate
who has fanned 87 times in 447 at-bats? A ground ball would seem the least
likely possibility, certainly dwarfed by the combined possibility of a
strikeout or a fly out.  Sure enough, Jose fanned, Dante got gunned down and
the inning was over.  For someone who supposedly has a voracious appetite for
stats, you sure don't seem to know a heck of a lot about your team.

As a manager, Joe, you make a great pitching coach.

---

Note: Whoops, make that 88 K's in 448 at-bats as Offerman just fanned for the
third time tonight, taking strike three with the tying run on third and one
out.  Hard to keep up with the ineptitude of some of these guys.

More HARDBALL columns from Hench

Who Am I?

Date: Wednesday, August 29, 2001
From: Kevin Hench
Subject:  Who Am I?

 

Let's play that old ballyard standard, Who Am I?

As the clues are given, picture puzzle pieces coming together, featuring fat
cheeks and sleepy, indifferent eyes.

I expect to play every day.

In my last 95 at-bats I have driven in six runs and three of those were on
one swing.

I am a poor baserunner.

I am a poor outfielder.

Since being told I would be hitting fifth every day, I have batted .264 with
a .377 slugging percentage and driven in five runs in 53 at-bats.

I am a guess hitter.

I only hit mistakes.

I average less than one home run every 30 at-bats.

I am slow.

My power is almost completely gone.

I am what they call "a cripple hitter."

I am old.

I expect to play every day.

I am Dante Bichette.

Dante Bichette's whole career has been an illusion.  The Angels and Brewers
got rid of him because they thought he stunk.  They were right.  He's never
done anything anywhere outside of Coors Field that would merit playing every
day in the bigs.  The problem was that the numbers he put up in Coors Field
were so huge that they were hard to ignore.  Sadly, Dan Duquette, like Reds
GM Jim Bowen before him, couldn't ignore them either.  They are eye-popping. 
But every time Bichette quits on a curveball that ends up rolling into the
strike zone, remember, curve balls don't roll into the strike zone in Coors. 
The cartoon joke that is Coors Field is a perfect place for pure, cartoonish
fastball hitters.  Just sit fastball and hack away.  There is no way you'll
see three breaking balls consecutively in Coors.  But the word is out on
Dante, which is why pitchers rarely make as glaring a mistake as Aaron Sele
did with that get-over fastball on the inner half that Dante crushed for half
his RBIs since July 29.

The aging mistake hitter is a baseball staple.  You just hate to be saddled
with one yourself when you're trying to make up ground in a pennant race.

Oh, and Dante, if you can't look in the mirror, at least look in Total
Baseball... you're not an everyday player, probably never were, except for
those seasons on the moon.

Notes:  Is it a bad sign when Doug Mirabelli (15) has more RBIs in August
than Manny Ramirez (13)?... My buddy Dave put it best:  "Are these the guys
you want to end the curse?"  Hardly. ... Everyone - Nomar, Pedro, Varitek, et
al. - should shut it down right now.  What is the point?  We are not going to
catch either of these teams and even if we did, we couldn't beat any of the
AL playoff teams three of five or four of seven...  Trot Nixon sure makes a
lot of soft outs in the leadoff spot.  Dribbler back to the mound with the
sacks jacked tonight against Dave Burba?  What gives?  He also takes too many
2-0 pitches.  Jose Offerman and Trot Nixon need to switch hitting
sensibilities.  Jose should take all 2-0 and 3-1 pitches and Trot, who has
lots of pop, should be looking to kill those "cripple" pitches...  A hundred
years from now someone will be thumbing through Total Baseball, see that 2-0
record and 0.69 ERA and ask, "Gee, I wonder what happened to Juan Pena?" 
That freak injury was the beginning of this 2001 tragedy that has continued
unabated ever since that final, fatal spring training day in the spring of
2000.... Joe Kerrigan now has a lower winning percentage than Jimy
Williams... Why did you forsake us, Felipe?

Running Ourselves into the Ground

Date: Monday, August 27, 2001
From: Kevin Hench
Subject:  Running Ourselves into the Ground

 

I played Little League.  I played Junior Babe Ruth.  I played high school
baseball. I played Senior Babe Ruth.  I played in the glorious Country
Mountain Men's League in central Vermont and in the somewhat less pastoral
L.A. men's league.  I've played in more softball leagues that I can recount.

That said, I have never seen worse baserunning on any level than I witnessed
by the Boston Red Sox of Major League Baseball's American League this weekend
in Texas.

Excited, incontinent nine-year-olds could not possibly embarrass themselves
on the paths to a greater degree than Messrs. Bichette, Stynes, Garciaparra,
Lansing, Hillenbrand, Everett and Lewis.  That's right, no fewer than seven
Red Sox players made mistakes on the bases as we dropped a critical series by
losing back-to-back one-run games.

 

Dante Bichette - After embarrassing himself Saturday night by ignoring
on-deck hitter Scott Hatteberg's frantic slide signal and being tagged out at
home plate, Dante outdid himself Sunday.  In the top of the second, Bichette
stood at second with Hillenbrand at first and none out.  Troy O'Leary - who
has not had a successful sacrifice since 1997 - pulled back from an inside
pitch to run the count to 3-1.  In the Vermont Country Mountain League, we
considered two on, none out and a 3-1 count on the hitter a pretty darn good
situation.  But on that same pitch, Dante wandered too far off second base,
stumbled on his way back and was picked off by the catcher.  Wow.  It should
be noted that the catcher was not Pudge Rodriguez but old friend Bill
Haselman.  Not that it mattered.  Once Bichette bolted so foolishly far from
the bag, any catcher could have picked him off.  Even Scott Hatteberg.  Once
the sleepy-eyed Bichette was tagged out by A-Rod, he shuffled off the field
with his standard absence of emotion. 

Shea Hillenbrand - Dante had barely lollygagged into the dugout when rookie
Shea Hillenbrand was picked off first by lefty pitcher Doug Davis.  While on
the other side of the ledger we were meticulously recording Pedro's precious
pitch count, Sox baserunners gave a young pitcher two outs without having to
throw a pitch.  You idiots!

Darren Lewis - Darren Lewis is a 12-year Major League veteran.  He entered
Saturday's game in the 17th inning as a pinch runner.  The pitcher was Chris
Michalak, who happens to lead the league in pickoffs.  Assume he's throwing
to first! Make sure he's going to the plate!  Under no circumstances can you
get picked off.  Bang.  He's picked off.  Useless.

Chris Stynes - Saturday night, an 18-inning loss where one run at any point
over hours four, five and six gets us a win.  With Stynes at second and
Everett at first a pitch kicks away from Pudge Rodriguez.  The ball is not
bouncing around Pudge's feet.  It's not spinning in the lefty batter's box. 
The friggin' ball is more than a first down to Pudge's right and Stynes stands
there with his thumb up his ass instead of getting 90 feet closer to a must
win.  Meanwhile...

Carl Everett - Dostoevsky devoted hundreds of pages to The Idiot, but I'll
have to settle for a paragraph.  While Stynes was paralyzed off second base,
Everett took those fatal strides toward that occupied bag.  Pudge threw
behind him, Fieldin Culbreth blew the call and the rally was dead.

Mike Lansing - After Mike Lansing "stole" second on ball four to Trot Nixon
and Pudge's throw ended up in left center, we were all wondering if Lansing
would at any point share our interest in the actual location of the baseball,
or if he would continue signaling the umpire for time while the ball rolled
on the outfield grass.  Would Mike have been able to advance if the ball
split the gap?  If Pudge's throw reached the wall?  Probably not.  Because he
never showed the slightest interest in finding the ball.  He must have been
wondering what Lamont was screaming and waving his arms about.  Way to be
heads up, fella.

Nomar Garciaparra - In the aforementioned Vermont Country Mountain League, I
had the thrill of a lifetime when I reached first base off of a 46-year-old
lefty named Bill Lee.  Granted, it was on an error by the second baseman. 
But I was one of only two guys to reach base in that 7-0 loss, so guess what
was not going to happen?  I was not going to get picked off.  I took my
14-inch lead and kept my weight on my left leg until I saw that ball going
plateward.  The point is you can always not get picked off.  So when Nomar
reached base Friday against Michalak in another squeaker against these
Rangers who can't get anyone out he needs to know a few things: First, you
have to assume you're going to reach Chris Michalak with the sticks.  Second,
the guy leads the league in pickoffs.  And third, you're not going anywhere
against Pudge anyway.  So why, why, why get picked off?  What is to be
gained?  This is the baseball equivalent of the no-look, behind-the-back pass
to a guy 10 feet beyond his range.  There is no upside.

In 48 hours, from 10 ET Friday to 10 ET Sunday, we had seven baserunners make
mistakes and only four avoid embarrassing themselves.  I've never seen
anything like it.

Easygoing Hard to Take

Date: Sunday, August 26, 2001
From: Kevin Hench
Subject:  Easygoing Hard to Take

 

The Boston Red Sox 2001 edition is the team equivalent of a runner speeding
into second, beginning to slide, then, wanting to avoid a raspberry, stopping
awkwardly and breaking his leg.  I've seen it happen and it's every bit as
ugly as tonight's train wreck loss.  You can't go in hard and easy at the
same time, and that's just what the Sox are trying to do.

You see, the Red Sox organization made a commitment to its fans to go all out
to make the playoffs this season.  The commitment was so deep it entailed the
immediate termination of the manager.  That's going in hard.

But naturally - and shrewdly perhaps - the team has coddled its franchise ace
through countless long tosses, side sessions and simulated games and fallen
further and further behind while waiting for him to tell the team when he is
ready.  That's going in easy.

The Sox traded two young pitchers for a proven closer coming off elbow
surgery.  That's going in hard.

The team plans on having Mike Lansing play shortstop every fourth game while
Nomar Garciaparra regains strength in his wrist.  That's going in easy.

Add in a certain malingerer's unwillingness to play center field despite
being able to run the bases - albeit clueslessly - and a star hitter's
unwillingness to DH until he's had some down time in the pool in Fort Myers
and you have basically all the team's stars going in easy.  August is almost
gone.  We're hanging by a thread.  And the most important players on the team
are all going in easy.  Which is fine.  But if the players are going in easy,
the front office shouldn't be making overtures about going in hard.  Throttle
back, let Nomar play two or three times a week, shut Pedro down for the
season, let Manny spend September in the whirlpool, spend the next five weeks
exploring non-aspirin anti-inflammatories for Carl.  Get healthy and get
ready for 2002. But don't insult us by pretending the organization is going
all out to win this year and then make us watch Mike Lansing trying to reach
first base from shortstop in the 18th inning of a huge loss in Texas.  You
can't have it both ways.  You either go in hard, or you go in easy.  You try
to do both and you break your leg.

Tonight we broke our leg.  The silver lining is that this is the first major
injury of the season that was only metaphorical.

 

...Subject:  One Fan's Fantasy

 

I have this fantasy where I stride into the Red Sox clubhouse and unburden
myself on the team.  In one version I end up beating the non-aspirin crap out
of Carl Everett. In another they just sit and listen.  Because they know I'm
right.

I stalk around the locker room, bellowing for all to hear as I single each
guy out.

"Mike Lansing!  Wow, look at you, all snarl and forearms.  You'd think a
strong guy like you could reach first base from shortstop.  I know, I know,
it's a long throw, and if Jose Offerman would use a first baseman's mitt he
probably would have scooped the last one.  Don't worry, the official scorer
actually gave Pudge a base hit on the routine roller that you bobbled and
threw wildly on, so you were only charged with two errors tonight.  But
that's not even what gives me the red ass about you.  Three nights after you
got hung up between second and third on a comebacker to the mound and cost us
a run with your baserunning, you outdid yourself on the paths tonight.  On a
3-2 pitch to Trot Nixon, you took off for second.  The pitch was ball four,
but you went in hard, which is fine.  Pudge threw through, which is also
understandable since a catcher can't afford to wait around on the ump's call.
Now's where it gets weird.  Pudge's throw skipped off A-Rod's glove into
left-centerfield.  Everyone in the ballpark knew the ball was rolling
basically into the gap except for you.  You were singling the second base
umpire for time. Now, naturally, he can't grant you time because the ball is
rolling on the outfield grass - IN PLAY.  Gene Lamont is screaming at you,
but you're doing your own thing, brushing off, etc.  Here's a tip that I
don't usually have to give to veterans.  Find the friggin' ball!  Now I also
want to rip you for getting caught stealing tonight against the best catcher
in baseball history because I can't believe any manager - even the deposed
idiot - would have sent you.  But I'll have to reserve judgment until the
facts are in on that one.  Let's put it this way:  If you went on your own,
it capped a pretty friggin' horrible week for you on the bases, now didn't it?
 Way to cost your team a game tonight, Scatter-arm."

"Darren Lewis.  Darren Lewis.  D-Lew.  You were sent in to pinch run in the
17th inning.  Do you watch the games?  Did you see Nomar get picked off by
Machalak last night?  Have you caught any of the season-long saga between
your team and Machalak?  I know, I know, he breaks the rubber, steps toward
home and throws to first.  It's a balk.  But guess what, idiot... they don't
call it.  You absolutely cannot get picked off in that situation.  It's truly
the only mistake you could have made.  And you made it.  And then Scatter-arm
rips a double.  Way to cost your team a game tonight."

"Chris Stynes.  Let's hope tonight's four hits signals an end to that little
5-for-44 unpleasantness you've put us through during this stretch drive.  But
what I really want to talk to you about is baserunning.  Like so many of your
teammates, this part of the game seems to puzzle you.  When you're on second
base and a pitch kicks 45 feet to the catcher's right... MOVE TO FRIGGIN''
THIRD BASE!  What the hell were you thinking?  You would have gone in
standing up.  There wouldn't have been a throw.  Imagine, if you can, a
360-degree field with no foul territory.  You're on second when one of your
teammates bunts the ball halfway to the first-base on-deck circle... do you
really think you're going to get thrown out at third base?  Really?  I think
that fastball to the face has screwed up your grasp of spatial relations. 
Way to go."

"Nomar Garciaparra.  I know I don't have to yell at you.  I know that for you
to sit in the dugout while Mike Lansing butchers three or four ground balls
that you handle routinely, that you must be in serious pain and that to have
entered tonight's game at any point would represent a risk of serious injury.
 Right?  So I can keep moving on, okay?"

"Carl.  Maybe there's a big preacher somewhere who could beat some humility
into you.  A really massive guy like the dude from The Green Mile.  Just to
pound the livin' sh-- out of you until you become an even marginal human
being.  But I know that's aiming too high.  I'd settle for someone beating
you until you became an even marginal baserunner.  You still have the
hammerlock on the all-time dumbest baserunning play most of us have ever
seen, and tonight you added to your legend by getting picked off first by the
catcher in the 13th... 14th?  Now I know what you're going to say, and I
already ripped Stynes for his miserable baserunning.  But you can't go from
first until you know he's going.   Right?  Look at me.  Right?  And you were
safe.  But that's still no excuse for running the bases with your head up
your ass. And stop striking out against guys who throw 82 miles per hour."

"Joe Kerrigan!  Buddy!  How's it going?  Little tougher than you thought it
would be, huh?  Bottom seven, 6-4 lead, Garces has retired both batters he's
faced... whoa... there's Tim Wakefield.  Right there on the mound.  Do you
really want a pitcher who has no idea where the ball is going to go coming in
to protect a late-inning lead?  Were you surprised when he went 3-0 on the
first hitter?  When he walked him?  What is the worst sin for a reliever
trying to protect a two-run lead?  Lamont, shut up!  I'm asking Joe. ....
That's right, walking the leadoff hitter.  So why would you go to a pitcher
who puts location in God's hands once he releases the ball?  Why, Joe?  And
didn't your charts and actuarial tables tell you that Gabe Kapler is hitting
.500 off Wakes? And then, if the bullpen is as shot as your subsequent moves
would indicate, why would you get a total of two outs from Garces and
Wakefield, then burn McDill after he faced only two batters when you could
have walked A-Rod with first base open and kept the lefty in to face
Palmeiro?  Why, Joe?  And did you send Mike Lansing?  Cause somebody needs to
step into the middle of this clubhouse and apologize to the team.  Either
you're an idiot who knowingly gave the steal sign or an idiot who accidentally
gave the steal sign, or he's an idiot for running on I-Rod on his own.  Will
the idiot please step forward?"

Just once.  It would be my Make-a-Wish dream come true to scream at these
guys with impunity.
 

...Subject:  Can't Shake This One

 

When you can't score for 10 and a third innings against Jeff Zimmerman, Danny
Kolb, Pat Mahomes and Chris Machalak, what does this say about your lineup?

That maybe it's not the best time for your best hitters to be chillin' on the
sidelines?  Or in the Fort Myers Marriott?

By my count Lansing made four errors tonight:  the two he was actually
charged with, one on Michael Young's routine grounder to Mike's right with
the infield drawn in that Mike threw wildly on, and the bobble-wild throw on
Pudge's routine grounder.  Official scoring has gotten completely ridiculous.
The home team gets a hit on basically anything they reach first base on. 
It's become just like Little League.  These idiots who score big league games
obviously have never played the game themselves or they'd have a much better
idea of what constituted a hit or an error.  If the play should be made, then
it's an error.  How the heck do you give Pudge Rodriguez a base hit on a
three-hopper right at the shortstop?

So many people suck at their jobs.

 

...Subject:  Kill the Bums

 

Our creaky, overworked bullpen threw 195 pitches tonight.

About 150 more than they would have had to had the home plate umpire, the
third base umpire and the first base umpire not all made mistakes.

In the first inning, Frank Castillo clearly struck out Frank Catalanotto with
a fastball on the corner.  Plate ump Andy Fletcher, who has spent the whole
season going chin to chin with various managers because his strike zone jumps
all over the place, called it a ball, Catalanaotto got a base hit on the next
pitch and scored the Rangers first run.  The Sox would have won in reg had
Larry Young not wrongly sent Carl Everett back to third on Mike Lamb's wild
throw in the seventh.  Everett, who was going on a 3-2 pitch, had already
turned second when Lamb's throw scooted down the right-field line.  He would
have scored easily as no Ranger was within 150 feet of the ball, but when a
fan touched the ball, the umps gave the home team - and the offending fan - a
gift, instead of following the rules and placing the runners where they would
certainly have ended up.  Fieldin Culbreth's blown call on Everett at first
base - with Stynes on second - in extra innings was obviously magnified when
Bichette singled to lead off the next inning.

Nice work by the men in blue.  Only Dale Scott at second didn't make a
mistake that changed the outcome of the game.  They almost sucked for the
cycle.

Chugging Along

Date: Saturday, August 25, 2001
From: Kevin Hench
Subject:  Chugging Along

 

How are we doing this?

The house of cards continue to wobble but refuses to fall.  Even after Trot's heroic performance, our leadoff hitters are batting .228 with a .295 on-base percentage for the season.  As you know, this would be atrocious for a No. 9 hitter.  But for a collection of leadoff hitters?  And yet we keep on chugging along, spitting and coughing to be sure, but chugging along nonetheless.

Every starter in our rotation has been injured, from the seemingly insignificant split callous to the hugely-terrifying, world-changing, breath-stopping rotator cuff inflammation.  And yet we keep on chugging along.

Every guy in our lineup has had long stretches of looking awful at the plate, though thankfully Doug Mirabelli had his with the Texas Rangers.  Since joining the Sox, in 89 at-bats, Mirabelli has hit .303 with an outstanding .396 on-base percentage and an impressive .506 slugging percentage.  And he gunned down yet another runner last night as he continued to shape his reputation as the second-best defensive catcher in the American League.  And, if that weren't enough, he's made two tags at the plate the last two nights, one blocking the dish and one reaching out and bringing the ball back to the runner.  He's done it all.  He just has to keep it up for one more month.  That's right, our No. 9 hitter has been our most consistent guy with the stick.  And yet we keep chugging along.

As for our most recent lineup of Everett, Bichette and O'Leary batting 4-5-6, does any other team in baseball put three guys in those slots with 13 or fewer home runs?  No.  And yet we keep chugging along.

The new manager smiles after grand slams.  I like that.  Smiling is allowed in baseball, right?  Unfortunately, he also seems prone to bizarre decision-making, like putting D-Lew in left to finish last night's game instead of putting him in right and O'Leary in left, or putting D-Lew in center, Trot in right and O'Leary in left.  Truth be told, I think he forgets to do certain things, which is pretty inexcusable given how slowly the game moves.  Football coaches facing mass substitutions and a dwindling play clock can be forgiven for oversights, but baseball managers should never be caught off guard.  You can literally run onto the field and call timeout any time you want.  You can even ask the umpires what you should do.  I think Gene
Lamont should send the signs into the dugout from the third-base coach's box, leaving Kerrigan with the easier task of ratifying the more-experienced Lamont's decisions. Anyone noticed how good Lamont has been in the third-base box this year?  Maybe that's why Duquette didn't offer him the gig.  We're in a pennat race and we've got a a manager with zero experience. And yet we keep chugging along.
 

I can't explain it, but as long as they're chugging along, we might as well chug along with them.  Sam Adams, anybody?


 

G. Edes: He Brings Good Things To Life

Date: Friday, August 24, 2001
From: Kevin Hench
Subject:  G. Edes:  He Brings Good Things To Life

Everyone should get to be a rock star for one day.
  And last night, almost certainly unbeknownst to him, was Gordon Edes'
moment in the flickering strobe light.   Sure, the National Sports Bar and
Grill in Anaheim ain't exactly the Hyatt (aka The Riot) on Sunset Blvd., but
for our little coterie of starstruck groupies it would have to do.  Gordo was
Steven Tyler and we - Rathbone, Jamie, Tom, Phil from Glendale, and yours
truly - were reduced to so many fawning Bebe Buells.  It should be noted that
our late-night assignation stood no chance of producing anything as beautiful
as Liv Tyler.  But it did produce a lively confab on all things Red Sox as we
leaned on Gordo's every utterance.
  Can you imagine a better scene?  Soaking in the euphoria of a comeback win
and several pints of Sam Adams, we made our way over to the National, where we'd
heard the Boston Globe's ace correspondent would be making an appearance after
filing his game story.  The bar was jammed with buoyant Sox fans, infused with
newfound belief in their Townies.  There were no tables left inside so we ended up
setting up shop on the patio to watch and wait for The Man.  Rathbone spotted two
guys walking in that looked like they might be sportswriters (paint your own picture),
but our shouts of "Gordo!" were ignored as they disappeared into the bar.  Minutes later,
however, those same two guys emerged onto the patio, came over to our table and asked
if we were from Boston.  Well, we were decked out in Red Sox hats, jackets, Dirt Dog
t-shirts and an El Guapo shirt.  You can't slip anything past these sportswriters. 
To our "Who are you, Hercule Poirot?" attitude, he said, "I'm Gordon Edes."
  Gordon Edes!  Not only has this guy stood toe-to-toe with Carl Everett and
followed a just-fired Jimy Williams onto a Tampa-bound plane, but he also got
the quote that spawned Dirt Dog Nation. Gordon Edes!
  After getting over his initial terror at our irrational exuberance, Gordo 
- and his buddy Dave from the Hartford Courant - sat down and engaged us in
two solid hours of Sox talk.  Everyone learned a lot.  Especially Edes.
  A Jimy apologist to the bitter end, we had to set him straight on that
front.  And both Gordon and Dave were surprised to hear about Dante
Bichette's 213-point disparity in slugging percentage between Coors Field and
everywhere else.  Neither could make an argument for which of the five tools
Jose Offerman possesses. 
  We argued, agreed, agreed to disagree, disagreed to varying degrees and
were in complete agreement when it came to ordering another round.  Sadly,
the New England vibe took a hit when the bar ran out of Sam Adams and we were
forced to shift to Bass Ale. 
  Sportswriters have to deal with a lot.  But they don't have a heck of a lot
of experience with idolatry.  Gordon Edes handled it with aplomb.  He's the
kind of guy a publisher would want representing his newspaper.  He makes the
ink-stained wretches seem a little less wretched.  The anti-Shaughnessy, if
you will. 
  How anyone who has to deal with the Sox menagerie of crybabies and
backstabbers on a daily basis can maintain such a classy, generous spirit is
completely amazing.
  Gordon Edes.  GE.  He brings good things to life.

Lowe and Beck Show, Playing All Season

Date: Thursday, August 23, 2001
From: Kevin Hench
Subject:  Lowe and Beck Show, Playing All Season

Anyone else growing weary of the Derek Lowe and Rod Beck show?

Is there no funk a lineup can't snap out of when one of these two Guys
enters a game, or as in tonight's loss, when they both enter the game?
Wakes deserved better.  If old friend Tim Tshchida calls Benji Gil out for
running way inside the baseline on his bunt, forcing Wakes' wild throw,
we might very well have won this game.  Maybe Tschida will once again
be man enough to admit that he blew the call.

Tschida also squeezed Lowe on a couple of pitches, particularly the 1-1 pitch
to Erstad that preceded the game-tying hit.  But Lowe is a "contact" pitcher and
Erstad and Garrett Anderson made contact as Lowe turned a 2-1 lead into a 3-2
deficit.  Lowe now has five blown saves to go with his eight losses.

Gee, you think those 13 games will be relevant at the end of September?

Maybe this guy needs to return to being a starter.  He obviously doesn't have the
steely-eyed confidence of a closer and just gives up too many hits to be brought in
with runners on.  I think he'd make a decent third or fourth starter next year.

As for Beck, add Ben Molina to the ever-expanding list of guys who have

taken him deep this year.  Unlike Edgar Martinez who turned around an 0-2

fastball, Molina swatted a 1-2 hanging curve. Mirabelli had set up outside and 

the hanger lolled over the inside half before being schwacked.  It's one 

thing to get taken out on a 3-1 and 2-0 pitches, but when you're giving up 

tall jacks on 0-2 and 1-2 pitches - when the hitter is presumably thinking

defensively - it might be time to pull a Pichardo and just walk away before anyone 

else gets hurt.

In the Indians stirring comeback victory over the A's, Robbie Alomar hit a

routine grounder to second with one out and a man on first in the eighth.

Menechino got the ball to Tejada quickly but Alomar beat the relay to

first, bringing up Juan Gonzalez in a 4-2 game. Gonzalez tied it with a 

two-run home run. We also trailed 4-2 with a man on first and one out 

tonight. Jose Offerman hit a grounder to second.  Not only did he not beat the 

relay, he hadn't entered the frame when the Angels began celebrating their 

victory. Has there ever been a slower leadoff man in baseball? And by the way, 

Mr. Kerrigan, as happy as I am that you actually know what certain guys 

have done against certain pitchers, none of that is relevant in Jose Offerman's

case. He is not the player he was before last year's knee injury.  Not even close.

I would like to poll older fans and ask them if they ever remember any of their 

heroes missing 10 games in a pennant race with a pulled hamstring. Willie Mays?

Duke Snider? Mickey Mantle?  A guy tears up his knee, that's one thing.  But the 

annual trip that seemingly half these guys take to the D with a pulled hammy is a 

real puzzler.  You hit the ball, you run to first...and, oooh, there it went.  What?  

How did that happen?  A buddy of mine on my softball team says it's the weights.  

That all these guys build up their lower bodies with weight work and they're just 

too taut, like piano wire, and they snap easily.  But I thought Griffey was not a big 

weight guy.

And Manny can't DH?  What exactly is a mild strain?  This season has just been 

too cruel. All year when I'd complain long and loud about all our guys being hurt, 

my girlfriend would say, "Manny's not hurt."  Well now he is.Well, not hurt necessarily, 
just unable to play.  In a pennant race.  With his team three games back.

That sucks.

Pulled Back In

Date: Wednesday, August 22, 2001
From: Kevin Hench
Subject:  Pulled Back In

Do we dare?

Sox win.  Yanks lose.  A's lose.  Pedro pitching Sunday.

Well, do we?  We had settled into a nice little glass-half-shattered fatalism
about this season that was making it easier to endure the endless tide of
misfortune (Manny now may be out as long as 10 days), but now they are
tugging at us.  With a band of backups and guys playing out of position, the
Townies had one inning above a whisper tonight and it was enough as Belli
(anyone got anything better?) started and capped our eight-run third inning
with a walk and grand slam.  Coney was sharp, Guapo steady, Pulse atrocious
and Urbina dominant against the reigning AL homer champ.  Lansing made a
ridiculously good barehanded play at short.  Everyone contributed but Carl,
in other words, a perfect win.

So do we dare try to turn the ship around once more and believe?  Just to be
safe, I'll wait until we've taken five of seven from the Yankees before I
choose to believe we have a shot.  It's just more relaxing this way.

---

Had a nice exchange with new millionaire Michael Garciaparra, who seems as
humble and gracious as his big bro.  I told him just to go out and be his own
man, but that he'd better hit the weights, which made his girlfriend (or
sister, or cousin) laugh.

Ben Affleck, fresh from his rehab stint, took in the game behind the first
base dugout.

Can't make the third game Wednesday, but looking forward to meeting Gordon
Edes at the National Sports Grill on Thursday.  Hope he's up for a very late
night because we may be taking him on a very special excursion to a very
special place. 

How It Was Meant To Be

Date: Tuesday, August 21, 2001
From: Kevin Hench
Subject:  How It Was Meant To Be

Frank Castillo painting corners.  Nomar Garciaparra making two smooth plays
from deep in the hole.  Clutch hitting.

This was how it was meant to be.  All season.

There was a good turnout by Red Sox Nation at The Ed tonight in Anaheim.  We
made more noise than their fans, which is no big achievement. But it wasn't
the wild frenzy that we could have expected had the Nation still truly
believed we had a shot.  The bittersweetness of tonight's win was palpable. 
Nobody screaming coming out of the stadium. No stinging high-fives, just
mild, congratulatory, job-well-done h