Bambino's Curse

We're All Due

And now we wait.

The big news is, and I'm not quite sure how to take it,

After two years of occasional posturing and sporadic threats about leaving Boston when his contract expires following this season, Pedro Martinez [stats, news] said last night that he is confident he will be staying with the Red Sox (Horrigan, 9/30)

Martinez, who lost his fourth consecutive start in his final regular-season outing on Wednesday night at Tropicana Field, said he expects to re-sign with the Sox as long as the team doesn't ``disrespect'' him during negotiations. The pronouncement was surprising because Martinez declared on April 30 that he was halting all negotiations and planning to pursue free agency in November (Horrigan, 10/1).

This is good news, right? Or is this some sort of double, triple reverse psyche out to somehow influence the coming negotiations? Pedro is one strange guy. That's all I know. Just when you think as a fan that you've got a bead on who Pedro Martinez is, he'll come out of the proverbial left field with something (e.g., "Daddy," "I'm in Wonderland" "I'm not the Cy Young, Lowe is" "This is Mr. Nelson" "Maybe I'll play for the Yankees" "Wake up the Bambino so I can drill him in the ass" to name but a few) to throw you completely off balance.

In today's Herald, Massarotti counts off the tools the Sox have "to finish the job." As an "ankle biter" blogger (in my pajamas) I have to pick a couple of nits.

They can beat the Yankees.  Yes, they can. The Yankees can beat the Red Sox, too, of course, but it's time for people in Boston to stop trembling in their sneakahs every time someone mentions New York. The Red Sox went 11-8 against the Yankees this season, including a 7-3 record at Fenway Park

Oh, thanks for clearing that one up. And who exactly are these trembling fans? My experience this year has been just the opposite. Red Sox fans have not been intimidated by New York all year. Yeah, a couple of the losses to NY stung but the wins we had countered that easily.

Moneyball was tempered. Modeling themselves after an Oakland A's team that has never won a playoff series, the Red Sox of the first half brought station-to-station baseball to a new extreme.… Then the Red Sox realized they actually needed to play baseball.

First, when did the Red Sox ever say they were modeling themselves after the Oakland A's? Theo Epstein has consistently said they rely on traditional scouting and that the Bill James type stuff is just one of several information pipelines they turn to when making decisions. Second, the ideas put forth in Moneyball are just the beginning. As Gammons writes recently,

While some dissect the "Moneyball" theories, the A's, Red Sox, Dodgers, Mets, Indians and others are trying to find the next new new thing, which in this case is quantifying what heretofore was considered incalculable -- defense.

That's why Theo Epstein made the trade he did: to shore up the defense not to abandon the notion of OBP and the importance of not giving away outs on offense.

And I love this one from Mazz,

They're due. Sooner or later, they're going to win one.

Evidently, he's never heard of the gambler's fallacy? There's no such thing as being "due." Belief in such is every bit as absurd as believing in curses.

The Red Sox will win the World Series when they are the best team in Major League Baseball. Case closed. Are they such a team this year? We shall see, won't we?

Number 2 Can Make You Number 1

You know, I'm going to sheepishly confess that a part of me is relieved the Yankees swept the Twins (thanks for nothing Gardenhire) and Pedro looked more like his sidekick Mr. Nelson than a former flamethrower the result of which is 99.99% certitude the Yankees will win the AL East because I really, really didn't want to deal with a weekend of must wins in Baltimore. I need to get myself in better mental and physical shape for the post season, as last Friday reminded me and as Bill Simmons put it's so well.

I still remember the following afternoon [after the ALCS defeat], when everything hit me at once -- the residual emotions of the past three weeks swelling up like a killer wave, knocking me right on my back -- and I actually had to leave work early. It was too much. Baseball shouldn't mean this much.

A few months passed. I thought I was okay. Last Friday brought everything back. This isn't about a curse, it's about baggage, the way an accumulation of experiences alters your innate reactions. Like every Red Sox fan, I have baggage. Tons of it. Now we're heading into October with another dicey manager. My guard is up. I can't help it. …

Everything has changed. Nothing has changed. I don't want to go through this again. I can't live without it. I'm not sure I can handle it. I couldn't imagine any other way (ESPN Page 2)

If you haven't read the full Simmons piece, by all means do. His explanation of why we all like Schilling so much is spot on:

He's one of us. There's no other way to say it. If he wasn't a professional athlete, you can imagine him posting on message boards, calling radio stations and gulping down flat beer at games. For that reason, he resonates with the locals in a "Bird and Neely" kind of way.

In a comment yesterday I wrote of that Eudora Welty quote regarding Faulkner. I can't remember it exactly so I'm going from a decade old memory of grad school, but it was something like, "When the Cannonball Express is coming you know enough to step off the track." That was Welty's way of saying that Faulkner was on a whole other level than everyone else writing during that era. And that's how I feel after nearly every Simmons column on the Red Sox. While I don't harbor aspirations to be full-time baseball writer of any flavor, it is nevertheless humbling and a bit deflating to realize just how good a writer Bill Simmons is. I wanted to comfort my competitive ego with thoughts of "well, he doesn't write ever day" but then I remembered that back in his Boston Sports Guy days, before the word "blog" was a household term, that he did write every day and, just like now, he kicked bootay every single day.

I'm so glad Simmons is a Red Sox fan. Of course, the two things go together. Just as it's unlikely Faulkner would have been the writer he was if he didn't grow up in Mississippi, it's unlikely Simmons, or any of us, would be who we are without our Red Sox roots.

And while we're in this lull of an off day, let's take a moment to recount some of the many superlatives related to the Red Sox. Sure, we may not have won a WS since 1918 (and that one may have been fixed) but check this:

• Best columnist for a national sports magazine? Bill Simmons, Red Sox fan.
• Best talking head and reporter for a national sports magazine? Peter Gammons, Red Sox fan.
• Best writer of thrillers on the planet Earth? Steven King, Red Sox fan.
• Best chef on the Food Network? Rachel Ray, Red Sox fan.
• Best sports pages in the nation: The Boston Globe and Boston Herald (I'd include ProJo if they'd get rid of that stupid registration crap.)
• Best writer who also pens baseball columns as well as full blown books? Ok, NY, I'll give you this one, Roger Angell, Yankees fan.
• Best writer of the romance and zeitgeist of baseball? A. Bartlett, Giamatti, Red Sox fan.
• Best Hollywood star with women, gambling, and substance abuse issues: Ben Affleck, Red Sox fan.
• Best looking and designed baseball weblog? Bambino's Curse, of course.
• Best fan website all sports? Boston Dirt Dogs
• Best fan message board: Sons of Sam Horn
• Best (perhaps only) baseball comic strip? The Soxaholix.

I could go on …

95 and Counting

Yes, I remember how good this felt when Derek Lowe delivered what catcher Jason Varitek describes as "the best pitch he's ever made."

Derek Lowe showed last year that he is still more than capable of making major contributions out of the bullpen when he struck out Terrence Long with the bases loaded to clinch the fifth and final game of the American League Division Series in Oakland (Horrigan, Herald).

I just wish I had more confidence in Lowe doing something as spectacular again in the 2004 version of the playoffs. On the other hand, Ramiro Mendoza appears to be in fine shape, "with two flawless innings of relief" last night. And we do have Keith Foulke to count on this year. Does that balance the now seemingly hapless Lowe? We better hope so.

Of course, there are post season bound teams with bigger pitching issues to worry their mystique laden little heads about:

Orlando Hernandez was scratched from last night's scheduled start because of stiffness in his shoulder, a worrisome issue that could turn into the death knell on the Bombers' World Series expectations (Morrissey, Herald).

That leaves NY with what, Mussina and … Heh. Heh. And the little Moose that could goes against the Twins' Santana in the first game of the Yankees' double-header at 4:05 this afternoon.

Santana … comes in at 20-6 with a 2.62 ERA. He had a 33-inning scoreless streak going until he allowed a run at Cleveland last Friday.
He has been, with all due respect to Curt Schilling, the best starter in the American League this season (Everson, NY Daily News).

Should be an interesting afternoon in the Bronx.

Five more wins puts the Red Sox at 100 wins, the number Theo Epstein predicted in March it'd take to win the AL East. Seems he was right on the money. With Pedro going tonight, hopefully, the Sox will make it 96 wins. And if the Twins can somehow take two from NY today, oh, things could get very interesting, don't you think?

In other news, baseball finally returns to Washington, D.C. Excellent. Now they just have to come up with a name. "The Senators" seems likely, of course, but many argue that brings too much "loser" baggage from all the years the Senators were an awful baseball team. Any suggestions? One idea that popped into my head is "The Washington L'Enfants" which would pay homage to both the club's past in French speaking Montreal as well as honoring the man who designed the District. Of course, calling your team "the infants" doesn't really work. Hey, I'm just brainstorming.

Let's Get It Started In Here

"We haven't accomplished nothing yet, We're going to take it to another level now… I think this is the year." — Manny Ramirez

I safely assume I speak for all of use when I say I'm ready and waiting to take it to the next level. Hella yes. See the ball; hit the ball. Not to mention throwing the ball:

One of the clinchers-in-chief was Bronson Arroyo, the rising star from the back of the rotation, who survived an early dustup to improve to 10-9 by limiting the Rays to two runs over 6 1/3 innings before a posse of bullpen men, including finisher Keith Foulke, did the rest (Hohler, Globe).

Congratulations Boston Red Sox!

One can argue that celebration is not in order, but I'm not one of them after how this season was played out like a sine wave on an oscilloscope. I'm with Theo:

"You never forget your first time, but this is a different team than last year," general manager Theo Epstein said. "We've had our own share of adversity. We were comatose for about three months, but the effort of these players pulling themselves out of it makes this really meaningful. We were 56-46 and a couple of games out of the wild card and things were in doubt, but these guys pulled themselves up by the bootstraps and persevered" (Horrigan).

And we fans persevered, though barely, speaking for myself. Remember this from back in July: "Laugh On Becomes Rage On"?

Watching the game last night, when the Red Sox had the bases loaded and no outs yet failed to bring a single run across the plate is when I became metaphorically infected with the rage. I knew the game was lost at that point (Bambino's Curse, 01 July 2004).

So it feels great, today, to just say, "Whew! They made it in."

And now that the Sox have "Mr. Nelson" on their side, who can stop them? Man, Pedro is a kick, eh? One minute he's freaking us all out by calling the Yankees his "daddy," and then the next think you know he pulls a Dominican dwarf out of his sleeve. Fantastic.

We've got dwarfs, cornrows, the Manny Ortez and, if that isn't enough, Damon's disciples.

That's right, Johnny Damon's disciples… a flock of bearded, white-robed [fans]. The day after Pedro Martinez's pal, 28-inch-tall actor Nelson De La Rosa, paid a circus-like visit to Fenway Park, Damon's disciples gathered on the mount in the left-field bleachers at Tropicana Field, extolling their center fielder/spiritual leader and his diamond mates (Hohler).

All this more than dwarfs the "Rally Monkey" [pun intended, of course] or anything else I've seen over the years in terms of sheer fun and wackiness. It's right out of a Leslie Nielsen movie.

Now that we're in, you can safely order the post season shirt that has exactly the right amount of cowbell: Anticipation Nation.

Go enjoy yourself a bit. Get a little stoopid, as they say. Who knows, too, there's still a chance the Yankees will cough up the Division.

What Is the Sound of One Hand Punching a Wall?

Must admit I've never much liked Kevin Brown before he was with the Yankees, so now that he is …

With the Yankees' rotation desperately seeking a boost from the veteran right-hander yesterday at Fenway Park, Brown couldn't get out of the first inning of an 11-4 Red Sox victory. Out for three weeks due to a broken left hand he suffered punching a clubhouse wall Sept. 3, Brown returned to the mound for the first time yesterday and stunk (King, NY Post).

Heh. Did he ever. I wonder if Brown is now haunted by the sound of all those consecutive doubles clanking off the Wall in the first inning? And is that a beautiful sound or what? Clank. Clank. Clank. Sweet music to my Red Sox fan ears.

Although this series with the Yankees what the mirror opposite of last weekend's in the Bronx with the visiting team winning a tough battle on Friday only to get whooped on Saturday and Sunday, am I biased in thinking the Red Sox have the advantage should the two teams meet again? Evidently, no.

Based on yesterday's putrid performance, it's hard to believe Joe Torre is going to trust the 39-year-old Brown in the final week of the season as the Yankees try to clinch their seventh straight AL East title. And Torre can't seriously be considering Brown for an October start.

So, the Yankees will be without the pitcher who was their ace coming out of spring training and who started the season with five wins and won seven of his first eight decisions (King).

Ain't that a shame? Maybe Yankees' fans should start calling him "Kevin [expletive] Brown"? (Hey, if Yankees fans can try to foist names upon us re Boone, why can't we do the same?)

Of course, we Red Sox fans have to hope Pedro "Who's Your Daddy" Martinez was temporarily insane when he issued his Neville Chamberlain style appeasement to the Yankees. (Want to give them Poland, too, while you're at Pedro?)

Fortunately, we've got something a better than the Maginot Line in defense of our homeland.

Schilling pitched seven innings of one-hit ball … [and] retired 10 straight Yankees before his bid for a perfect game ended when Alex Rodriguez drew a one-out walk in the fourth. Schilling surrendered consecutive four-pitch walks to Gary Sheffield and Hideki Matsui before catcher Jorge Posada punched a two-run single up the middle to make it 7-2. That was the only success the Yankees enjoyed at Schilling's expense (Thompson, Herald).

As of today, including last season, the playoffs and this season, the Red Sox and Yankees played 45 times and the Sox lead 23-22 (Bryant). Not bad, but not good enough, either.Like many of you, I find myself in the odd predicament of hoping for the Yankees to get bounced out shamefully early during the ALDS and wanting both teams to be first round victors to set up an ALCS chance of redemption. Scratch that. The Red Sox haven't clinched a post season birth, yet. While the Magic Number is only 2, stranger events have occurred to unravel even surer sure things. No planning playoff scenarios until then.

While we await the chance to move the number to 1 in that hallowed ground of so much baseball history we call Tropicana Field (hey, it was the first park to feature a climbing wall and the Gap), check out Christian Ruzich's send off to Ellis Burks.