Hey now, you're an all star

Heaven forgive me - but I voted 25 times for the All Star team.

I don't why I did it, beyond the fact that it always feels good to beat the Yankees. I remember when I was a kid I took my balloting seriously. I would weigh the choices and check the backs of the cards for stats. My friends and I would have discussions with deep moral implications: such as, what if the player from the Yankees was better than the player from the Sox? Do you go for the All Star or does team loyalty trump talent?

These days, a player making the team seems to have more to do with incentive clauses in contracts and lining up endorsement deals. As an adult, it appears to be a grand publicity stunt and the luster of my youth has been rubbed off only to reveal a cynical luster underneath it all.

In the end, I guess I'm hoping the campaign to get Damon on the team wins. Not because of anything beyond he's a solid player who you expect to see in the line up. Unfortunately, because of the structure of these things, it means that he won't be shoulder-to-shoulder with Matsui - which would be the right thing to have happen. He'll have to climb over him to break through.

Is Change a Good Thing?

Recently, the talk of every Boston-supporting publication and talk show has been the progress of Curt Schilling. Although Schilling claims that a pre-All Star break return is entirely possible, the Red Sox organization has been reluctant to publicly rejoice. They have, however, been optimistic about his simulated games and his upcoming Pawtucket start. If Schilling does, in fact, return, the red-hot Sox are faced with picking a new starting five.

The assumption here is that Curt Schilling is the club’s unquestioned ace. Schilling was the only Boston pitcher to win twenty games last year and his post-season heroics have been immortalized in Red Sox lore. No matter how poorly Schilling pitched to open this season, fans are counting on his time off to have cured whatever was hurting him.

What’s interesting about the current situation is that even without Schilling in the rotation, the Red Sox, winners of eleven of their last twelve, have reclaimed the lead in the American League East. Part of me wants Schilling back as soon as possible (the side of me that loves seeing the veteran power pitcher do his thing), but the other part of me asks why we should change what works and rush his return (the rational side.)

My guess is that the Red Sox will hold Schilling in minor league rehab starts until after the All Star break. If he finally returns, then which pitcher is subsequently dropped from the rotation (which will not necessarily be a bad thing, considering the poor state of relief pitching?)

Matt Clement clearly stays. With his 9-1 record, his has become the team’s go-to guy in Schilling’s absence. And who knows? Maybe even a backup All Star?

After Clement, the rotation gets tricky. Tim Wakefield should stay. He had his few shaky starts, but many of those were without his normal catcher Doug Mirabelli. But since Mirabelli’s return, Wakefield has been fantastic in his past three outings, allowing one run in 22 innings. The old knuckleballer also does not fatigue easily down the stretch.

Personally, I think Bronson Arroyo should also stay in the rotation. He’s my favorite pitcher on team and has also been excellent in his recent starts. Arroyo is arguably the most aggressive member of the pitching staff, and has the greatest untapped potential.

Wade Miller, on the other hand, has not been outstanding since his addition earlier this year. Granted, Miller was coming off a severe injury and still appears a little rusty whenever he takes the mound. He has yet to consistently pitch deep into games. Nevertheless, Miller has been throwing some of the best pitches out of anyone. Unfortunately, he cannot seem to find a rhythm and based on recent performances, might be the first to sit until he can strengthen his arm.

That leaves David Wells (the former Yankee) as the question mark. Wells is either lights-out or down right horrible. There has been no middle ground. After finding his stride following his time on the disabled list, the lefthander (which is why he will probably stay) has been excellent. But can Wells be trusted to put his heart into this team come October?

The decision – provided that Schilling has healed and returns to form – is ultimately Terry Francona’s. And currently, there is no clear answer. Wells will not take lightly to being demoted to the bullpen, but Miller might thrive there until he finds consistency. Hopefully, the Red Sox will let Schilling stay in rehab until he is absolutely ready. There is no reason to rush this now. Boston’s cruising at the helm of the AL East, due largely to their fantastic pitching of late. And it’s all been done without their ace.

Pobody's Nerfect

It's easy to like the Sox when they are winning and saying all the right things. It isn't easy when they don't appear to be shiny, happy perfect people - thus the recent disillusionment with the bullpen and with Manny sitting down more often.

Truth is, after Curt Shilling's "heroics" (and boy do I use that term loosely) by staying in the game too long cost us our #1 starter for months - I'd rather see Manny sit down with what the Eagle-Tribune writer called an "owie" than have to spend a month in Arizona rebuilding his strength for the rest of the season. Especially when you think about how hard Ramirez works to make it look so easy.

Of course I love seeing the first line players in the game. The graceful swings and artful catches are poetry in motion. I love watching Bronson on the mound - that high kick fascinates me almost as much as Nomo's Zen stretches before he throws. These are things are part of what make the game fun to watch.

As a former dancer, I also know how hard that level of activity can be on the body. I don't go a day with out thanking the stars above for Julie Gleason, the physical therapist that worked on my right ankle for years. Every time I sprained my ankle, I would wrap it a little tighter and tighten the laces on my boots until they strained and broke because the show had to go on. Reality is when you have 50 pounds of costume pulling you one way while you are consciously pulling the other - well something has to give. In my case, it was my ankle.

Julie patiently worked on the tendonitis that developed and slowly but surely got my hips back into alignment. I wasn't even aware of what was happening with my hips - but as I favored my ankle more and more, I unconsciously shifted that into my hips, which was also causing back problems.

Now, take a good look at those guys on the mound or in the field. Diving, catching, throwing from odd angles, stretching from odd angles - something's going to give over the course of the season and it's better to give them a day whenever you can to keep from aggravating the stuff you normally play through.

To illustrate my point, I think about the words of Jack Morris to Sparky Anderson back in the 80's. He reported told Anderson never to ask "how do you feel" when he's on the mound - he would always say he felt good because he would always feel like, no matter what, he could find a way to win the game. Anderson's job was to analyze what he was doing and note when he was losing his speed and tiring and just come out and say, "You did a good job Jack," and bring in the next guy.

That day all of us were screaming at the TV screen to pull Schilling, we knew that Schilling was saying, "Terry, I know I can do this - the ankle feels good." That's Schilling's job. Terry's is to say, "Curt, I need you for the whole season, not just one game," and sit him down. The hole left this year in the pitching staff is filling but still visible. I have to wonder how much of the problems facing Embry and Foulke have to do with Schilling's absence.

Now imagine losing Manny and Damon on top of that over what observers call "owies." Those same writers will then be all over Francona with "Why didn't you pull Manny when…."

I guess what makes me a real fan is that I get excited when I see a Kelly Shoppach be able to (literally) step up to the plate in Fenway. I love that we have the quality of a Jay Payton or Kevin Youkilis to fill in on the field (even if Payton would rather be filled in for rather than filler). Those are all the hopeful signs for someone like me. So giving players a day off is fine with me.

I know nobody's perfect, but with the back up on the bench and in the pen this team has, there are days when it really is easy to forget that.

A little clean-up in Kansas City

Last night, I attended a small party to catch up with many of my old high school friends. The late-night affair was relatively uneventful until I began talking baseball with a legitimate Yankee fan. This particular friend and I earned a reputation in our classes for our constant Red Sox/Yankees duels. The climax – or rather the nadir, in my case – came after the Great Grady Little Gaffe as I was forced to don a disgusting Derek Jeter jersey for a day because of a stupid bet.

But last night, the tables had turned. It was the first time I had seen my friend since we left for our respective colleges, so I relished every opportunity to remind him of Boston’s championship. And being the typical Yankee fan that he is, he was in a state of complete denial and was not concerned with New York’s current slide. According to him, it is a guarantee that the Yankees will make the playoffs. He was a pitiful site, wearing a 2003 World Series hat, a Brooklyn sweatshirt and spewing his verbal insanity.

The pinnacle of the night, however, came when he began telling me of his recent trip to Kansas City. His father and he had decided to venture out west to see the Yankees play, "the worst team in baseball." They planned to take their pompous New York show on the road so they could watch their two million dollar team pulverize the Royals. Unfortunately for the traveling fans, they watched as the Yankees were beaten by one of the weakest ball clubs – if one bases such a title on records and statistics.

He described how Royals fans went completely wild as the father and son tandem was heckled mercilessly. For me, however, the payoff of his amusingly redeeming anecdote came when he told me that a Kansas City native actually began sweeping him as he sulked out of the stadium. Predicting a Royals sweep, this fan with an obvious sense of both mockery and justice carried an actual broom into the stadium, only to fittingly clean his city of this Yankee trash (who, at the time, was appropriately wearing an A-Rod jersey.)

Personally, his story was much more entertaining than anything I expected last night. It was a true lesson in irony. But more importantly, it probably had an infinitely more degrading impact than any comment I could have made about last year’s October comeback.

The Best Night Ever

It's not often that I get an opportunity to take my son to Fenway - the tickets are hard to get and, often, out of my price range. But when a pair of first row bleacher seats came my way, who was I to say no? So I packed up Mr. Pi, my 13 year old son, and off we went to the game.

My son and I had a great time. All night long he kept repeating over and over again, "This is the best night ever." He could see the bull pen; it was the best night ever. Carlton Fisk was honored with a foul pole named after him and he was here to see it; it was the best night ever. These were the best seats he's ever had at a ball game; it was the best night ever. He got to try on the World Series ring at the booth; it was the best night ever. He got to eat a hot dog and cracker jacks; it was the best night ever. The Sox went through the order and he saw it while I scored it; it was the best night ever. You name it and it was just something else piled on to make it the best night ever.

At one point, he spied John Halama in the bull pen and decided he wanted to thank him for signing his hat a couple of weeks ago when I went to the game on my own. We headed over a section to get up next to the bull pen. At the change of innings, I called in asking if Halama could come out so my son could thank him.

A moment later, a very confused looking Halama came around the side and looked up at us. My son yelled, "Thanks."

"Thanks for what?"

"Thanks for signing my hat."

At this point, Halama was trying to hide a smile. "No problem," he called back.

Then came the best part: "I think you're the best pitcher in the bull pen," my son yelled out.

Barely stifling a laugh, Halama said, "Well, I don't know about that, but thanks."

I ushered my son back to our seats the next section over knowing that they had just made each other's night. I wasn't surprised when he, yet again, declared this to be - you guessed it - the best night ever.

In the sixth inning, my brother called to say that the people in front of him just left - did we want to come on over? Of course we did - putting us about a half dozen rows from the Reds on-deck circle making this, once again, the best night ever. In case it wasn't quite good enough, we were in his kind of crowd - the fans that like to talk a little trash to the players.

Here's my 13 year old Mr. Pi having the best night of his life and he joins in with the crowd when Willie Mo Pena steps up to the plate in the top of the ninth. He begins talking trash the way little league kids tend to by yelling, "Swing" just as the ball leaves the pitcher's hand. And Willie Mo did just that - swing just as Mr. Pi yelled. After two strikes, he then yelled, "Just go take a seat in the dugout and say hello to Junior."

Then it happened. Felipe Lopez turned around and flipped off my 13 year old son.

I couldn't believe it. A grown man flipped off a 13 year old kid for kid trash talk. Neither could the guys around us - which then started a round of real trash talk at Lopez from our neighbors - speculating about where Lopez's real insecurities may lay. My son, not wanting to be left out, he then stood up, cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled, "Hey Lopez, it takes a big man to flip off a 13 year old you jerk."

Well Cincinnati, all I can say is that your players are a real class act. Between Willie Mo, Ryan Freel and Adam Dunn refusing to throw balls into the stands to waiting kids and Felipe "the birdman" Lopez, no wonder you're in last place. But at 13, being flipped off by Lopez got turned around because it was just one more thing that made this "the best night ever" - a major league ball player acknowledged his existence.

As his mother, I would have rather Lopez had flipped him a ball.

Settling a Score.. That may be, no more.

Forget Marvel vs DC, Homicide meeting Law and Order, WCW Invading WWE. . .The world’s greatest crossover happens (up to) eight times a year! When the MLB’s American League, takes on the National League, for superiority in the world of Baseball.However, since the recent addition [1997] of inter-league play, the battle for dominance has been reshaped, forever.The question is: were any of these changes made for better, or for worse?

There was once a day when interleague play was seen as a phenomenon in the MLB. Despite sharing a similar origin to the NFL or the NBA, the MLB is one of the rare organizations that finds it "special" to match up teams from both of their two divisions. While the Philadelphia Eagles (NFL’s NFC) could play the San Diego Chargers (NFL’s AFC) on a drab Sunday morning, any week of the season, the New York Yankees (MLB’s AL) can only play the New York Mets (MLB’s NL) within the span of one month in the summertime.

It only seems fair that teams from both divisions should be forced to square off; to defend their honor, more than (up to) seven games, under the dreary October moon. But until 1997, the only time that the AL would clash with the NL, was during that best-of-seven series, to crown baseball’s champion.

The history of inter-league play truly begins with the first World Series, between my famed Boston Red Sox and Pittsburgh’s Pirates. Boston won this series 5-3, back when the fall classic was a best-of-nine series.. For 30 years, this was the only interleague event..

But then came the All-Star game!

For years, thought of as the ‘end-all, be-all’ of sporting contests, the All-Star game reached levels of amusement only rivaled by the fall classic itself.. Until 1950, when the National League decided to grab the Major’s by the horns.

From 1950 to 1980, the National League won the mid-summer dream 29 times.. Losing six times, and tying once (the only All-Star tie until 2002’s controversial finish). During this time of "national dominance", the interest in all-star play died dramatically, despite the addition of such ‘bells and whistles’ as "Double-Header" seasons (where the All-Star game was played twice a year, once in July, once in August – this lasted from 1959 to 1962).

In a time when the fans started to lose interest, the American League lost a majority of it’s prestige.. The desperation of the American League reached tremendous heights, with the National League consistently having the better players and the American League having terrific flaws.. Soon, however, much to the admiration and gratitude of the American League and it’s die-hard fans, the addition of free agency began to turn the ‘tides of war’.

By this time, however, the All-Star game had reached it’s pinnacle (until the 2004 "home-field advantage" stipulation was implemented). It was no-longer seen as a proving ground, as much as a stomping ground, forcefully occupied by the soldiers of July.. Interleague play, became anything other than ‘eventful’..

Sadly, since the induction of the MLB, my father’s childhood dreams of seeing the Kansas City royals battle their rival St. Louis Cardinals, only had the chance to come true once a year.. It should be noted that this dream only came true once, in 1985, when Kansas won their only World Series, with my father in attendance..

Then, it happened… In 1994, an event occurred that would alter sports off-the-field, forever-more. The MLB players association went on Strike, causing the cancellation of baseball’s 91st World Series.. To equate this tragedy to those who were not around to witness it, it was the NHL lock-out times ten..

This event, while critical to the budgets that most teams in the MLB have today, almost completely destroyed ticket sales in every stadium around the country. For the next two years, the yes-men would sit in their tower, contemplating how to re-package and re-market The "American Pastime".

The solution to this problem came in 1997, when the MLB officially ‘turned on’ regular season interleague play.. The first game of this stunning resurrection, occurred on June 12th of 1997: when the Texas Rangers hosted the San Francisco Giants, at "The Ballpark" in Arlington.

Since the implementation of interleague play, the format has been re-modeled three times. From the original "Division-Fueds" format (where the AL east would play the NL East et. all) to the "Mixed-Fueds" format (where AL East plays NL West and so on, and so forth) to the current "Rivalry" format.. The current "rivalries" are --

Boston Vs Atlanta (The Boston/Boston fued)
Oakland Vs San Fran (Golden Gate Bridge Series)
New York Yankees Vs New York Mets (Subway Series)
Kansas Vs St Louis (I-70 series) [Note: The only geographical feud that isn’t played every season]
Baltimore and Philadelphia (Supposedly, as of 2006, Baltimore’s largest Rival will be recognized by the MLB, to be: Washington).
Toronto Vs Washington (Used to be the battle of Canada when Washington played in Montreal, now it’s probably the Battle of the Metric System)
Minnesota Vs Milwaukee (Was the best AL Central feud, until Milwaukee switched leagues)
Florida Marlins Vs Tampa Devil Rays (Citrus Series – Or just the battle of Fillet O’ Fish)
Texas VS Houston (Lone Star Series)
Anaheim Vs LA (Freeway Series)

Since their infamous clash of ‘85, the Royals have played 149 inter-league games and the Cardinals have played 115 (including an NL leading 11-1 record in 2004). Only 13 teams have winning records (as of the start of the 2005 season), including the Chicago White Sox, who also lead interleague play home-run history, with 184.

Since 2000, -- when the Mets fell in four to the Yankees in the World Series -- more and more "throw-away games" have been injected into the line-up of giants.. The sight of a Kansas City / Florida Marlins game never fails to set my TiVo to "destroy".. Sadly, these "throw away games" have influenced many sports writers and fans to steer away from the interleague spectacular, in-lieu of an "enough is enough" stance (which has made interleague play the single-most controversial topic in baseball, that doesn’t involve Steroids, Betting or Curses.)

Whether or not interleague play boosts your appeal to the majors, is completely a singular issue to be decided by every fan on their own.. But if you ask this writer, interleague play has not only rejuvenated an almost lost sport.. But it has fueled the fire that burns, under the powers that be. More power to it..

Be sure to tune in to the great match-ups in store for us this month as interleague play comes to a conclusion.

Cheers,
Jack Jablin

Pedro Owns NYC

As luck would have it I was sitting at my desk Tuesday morning when a coworker gave me 4 tickets to that night's Mets game. Pedro Martinez was pitching. I was not going to turn those down. After half-heartedly asking my friend why he could not go he responded by saying if I want to play in tomorrow night's company softball game I have to work late tonight. I did understand because any chance I get to play ball at my age(30) I usually play. Even more luck came my way when I learned I was the second person he asked. Imagine that. Two people turning down Mets tickets to see Pedro pitch.

It was an amazing night. It was going to be my second time watching Pedro pitch this year. I saw him in Florida last month and he was great that night. As I work in mid town I decide to leave work at 5 and head right to the ballpark. My apartment is too far away to go home first and change my clothes. Besides I could not find anybody who wanted to see Pedro pitch. I was not able to reach many of the Mets fans I know. I take the 6 to Grand Central and hop on the 7 express train. I got to Shea by 5:45. My seats were very good. 7th row right field line. The crowd started to grow. The Dominican Republic flags were waving all over the place as this is becoming a normal occurance. Even in Florida there were DR flags waving all over the place.

It started about 6:40 when Pedro was long tossing in the outfield. The crowd was cheering his name. Then at 7:00 Pedro strides down the rightfield line. His jacket draped over his right shoulder. Rick Peterson is walking with him. There was no conversation between the two. Pedro look focused and confident. He looked like he was going to pitch great. As he walked past the crowd the cheering grew louder and louder. The crowd just goes wild for everything Pedro does. Whenever his name is announced the crowd goes wild. Pedro hits a foul ball the crowd goes wild. If Pedro would have picked his nose the crowd would have gone wild. Not since the days of Doc Gooden and David Cone in the Met glory days has a pitcher been this loved by Mets fans.

This is clearly Pedro's town now. Not Mike Piazza's or Carlos Beltran's. Not Randy Johnson's or Derek Jeter's. Pedro Martinez has been the best player in New York City this season. By far. What he means to this Mets team and their fans is remarkable. All we heard and read was that the Mets made a mistake giving Pedro 4 years. By year 4 he'll be on the disabled list and won't be effective. Everybody was saying that. Mike Francesa and Chris Russo both said it. Although they did say every time he steps to the mound it will be a huge event. We almost had the hugest one of all last night. Mets fans must not focus on what year 4 will bring. We can't worry about that. This is year 1 and Pedro is dominant.

About the third inning everybody knew Pedro had mowed down 7 batters in a row. I admit to thinking about the possibility. I starting to think about those who turned down tickets to possibly watch baseball history. I mean Houston hasn't hit all year long. Pedro looked to have great stuff. After the walk to Palmeiro to lead off the fourth there still was the no hitter. The crowd grew louder and louder with each passing batter. If anybody would get the Mets their first no hitter it would be Pedro. Pedro has been embraced by the Mets fans. Tom Glavine was never embraced this way. Evan after Glavine flirted with perfection last year. I remember watching that game and wanting Glavine to pitch the perfect game. Glavine has always been a class man. But part of me felt this just does not feel right. Tom Glavine shoud not be the one. Even though he is wearing a Mets uniform, he was a Braves ! pitcher. A pitcher who foiled the Mets on many occasions. Somehow I felt that Glavine can't be the Met pitcher who finally gets it done. Last night with Pedro that thought never crossed my mind.

After Chris Burke hit the home run to breakup the no hitter and shutout. The fans roared their appreciation for Pedro's performance. We all wanted to see him finish what he started. He had 95 pitches through 8 innings. I kept peeking towards the pen to see if Looper would start to throw. After Pedro hit for himself in the 8th inning I knew he would go all the way. Pedro struck out the side all looking to complete yet another dominating performance. His last 4 starts (Yankees, Marlins, D Backs, Astros) have been brilliant. 3 runs allowed in 32 innings. The crowd roared from 6:40 to well after the game was over. Leaving the stadium all you heard was Pedro chants. On the train all you heard was Pedro chants. Pedro!!! Pedro!!! Pedro!!!

Pedro was hot Tuesday night. The Mets fans were hot. It was a hot night in the city. A hot night in Pedro's city.

Derrick Turnbow: Yankee Killer?

For the second straight night in a row, baseball’s newest clutch reliever silenced what should be the most prolific offense in baseball. Derrick Turnbow, a pitcher who was optioned down to the Angels’ farm system last year, emerged victorious in another nerve-racking performance. Turnbow entered both ninth innings with only a run one lead, holding on for his ninth and tenth saves of the year.

In a banner year for blown save attempts, this unlikely hero is making serious waves. He’s filled the shoes of Milwaukee’s previous marquis closer Danny Colb. Turnbow is a giant killer who’s helping bring the Brewers back from baseball limbo, while hopefully sending the Yankees further into baseball oblivion.

Where�s My Grace Period?

I cheered for the Red Sox in the playoffs last year. Every self-respecting baseball fan outside of St. Louis or New York should have. They were a great story, LAST YEAR! Since that victory (and what a victory it was), The Red Sox and their fans have become almost as insufferable as Yankees fans.

Bill Simmons is a sports writer for ESPN.com’s Page 2. He is a HUGE Red Sox fan, although I have never met another kind. There don’t seem to be any wishy-washy Sox fans, it’s a love ‘em or hate ‘em scenario. Anyway, "The Sports Guy" as Simmons calls himself, advocates a 5-year grace period for any team that wins a championship. This means, no complaining about management, player transactions, or anything related to the franchise. To me, Sox fans should almost have a 15 year grace period after the cosmic forces that aligned to get them their World Series win. For multiple championships, the grace period is extended by 50% (I had a 7 and a half year grace period when the Jays went back to back.

But Red Sox fans choose to deny this grace period. They are complaining about Millar playing over Olerud, Dale Sveum on third base, the starting pitching, Keith Foulke. I could go on and on. The point is, as much as I respect all my yankeessuck peers and all my fellow Yankee haters worldwide, GIVE IT A REST! The Red Sox won, it was a great victory everyone was happy. But this team is over-exposed, big time! They’re writing books, doing tv shows, somebody has to put a stop to this.

So I am putting out a challenge to all the Red Sox fans on this website, (and I know there are many) please, respect the grace period. It’s there for your own protection, your own sanity and for not becoming the very thing we hate….a Yankee fan. You must give your team a break, surely they have earned it. Mets fans can complain, Orioles fans can complain, even us Jays fans have reason to be up in arms (although even that is questionable considering attendance the last 5 years), but Red Sox fans do not.

Well Red Sox fans, I love you. And we will always be brothers in the Rebel Alliance against the Evil Empire. And I was glad to help cheer you on to your long-awaited world championship last fall. So do me this favor, support your team, and cheer for them. But for goodness sakes, leave them ALONE!

Reading, Writing and Baseball

For a writer and lover of reading and the Red Sox, things don't get too much better than they did last night. In the .406 club at Fenway, a panel of some of the greatest writers spanning a couple of generations sat down to talk about baseball and writing.

Leslie Epstein (father of Theo and author books like "San Remo Drive: A Novel from Memory" and "Pandaemonium") gave a brief talk about what baseball meant to him before turning the mike over to moderator Andre Dubus III (author of "House of Sand and Fog") to ask questions of a panel featuring: Roger Angell, Doris Kearns Goodwin, Stephen King, Michael Lewis and John Updike.

For someone like me, it’s a glimpse of what heaven must be: great writers in the foreground discussing writing with green grounds of Fenway Park in the background.

Each author brought their own perspective to the subject. As a historian, Goodwin realized that her roots in keeping score of the Dodgers game for her father and then recounting each play when he returned home helped her form her perspective of using the narrative form to recount history. "It made me feel like I was telling my father a fabulous story," she said.

King also recalled some of his earliest memories around listening to the ball game on the radio with his mother on the front porch while he and others reenacted the play-by-play in the yard.

Michael Lewis spoke about how in baseball it really is man vs. man or man vs. fly ball or man vs. manager as opposed to sports like football where the blame isn't quite as easy to place. John Updike echoed the idea of baseball as a lonely sport - but there is a sense of repose or peace in it.

It was Roger Angell talking about how much baseball means to ethnic groups - citing Hank Greenberg to Jews in Detroit and the current deep ties between Latin America and baseball that crept into my notes more than anyone else. His sense of history of the sport and culture truly overpowered so much with an economy of words. He spoke of something that was so poignant that I finally began to understand one of my sons.

I speak to people of my 15 year old who decided a year ago that he didn't care about baseball any more. I refer to it as the second stage of Soxfandom - the belief that if you can just ignore things, if you just don't care they can't do it to you yet again. It is confusing for me to see a boy who loved the Sox and baseball so much that he tried to argue with the Rabbi about wearing his Red Sox cap signed by Jim Lonborg for his Bar Mitzvah instead of a kippa. (He lost and wore the Snoopy kippa I made him years earlier.) Angell spoke about how when you are passionate about something you do it over and over and over again but that eventually talent drives out non-talent and it truly is a painful process.

My son's rejection of baseball came after he joined Senior League baseball - the intermediate ground between Little League and Babe Ruth ball. One kid was whining and lamenting about how horrible a winter it had been, he could only get to Baseball Unlimited once a week to practice. My son looked at him and said, "Yeah, I have something called a life. You might want to think about getting one."

After that, the kid made sure to throw at my son's head every chance he got and his coach and I began to worry about his safety. My son, on the other hand, began to realize that kids no longer wanted to play for fun. They were thinking about scholarships and the ever narrowing path to the show. He was more realistic, knowing that the odds were against any of them making it past high school or college ball - so just enjoy the game and play for your heart.

He left the team because his old little league coach needed someone to help him with his daughter's t-ball team. He was in a good place teaching kids how to do alligator catches and monster walks to learn how to properly field, catch and throw. He gave the kids nicknames like "Babe" and "DiMaggio" and "Yaz." ("Don't worry, I didn't call any of them Ty mom because he was a bastard," he told me later.) His departure from baseball saddened me - but when I heard Angell's words, I finally understood.

The discussion went back and forth - occasionally Dubus recognized people in the audience, the regular schmucks like me as well as authors such as Stuart O'Nan and Dennis Lehane mixed in with the riff-raff. Lehane made a comment that really described my feeling about baseball and writing. He referred to the "poetry of soft noise" that is a baseball game and how baseball was "built for [a writer's] brain waves" as it gave us action and then time to pause and reflect.

This morning, when I looked at my programs from the season so far, I could see all the notes and narratives I kept for myself.

The story of a mother telling her little boy fairy tales about how, in his dream world, Johnny Damon, Trot Nixon and others came to teach him the basics of baseball after he was sad about striking out and being the last out of his little league game. The next day, after waking from his dream, he remembers the lessons they taught him and stuck to his basics - winning the game as a result.

There is a note about a father and trying to teach his daughter about what's going on in the field at her first game and her asking when the rally monkey comes out of the dugout to jump up and down. A brief notation reads: "If you're going to skip work, it probably isn't a good idea to keep score on the manila folder your work papers are in."

The list goes on and on and on.

Numbers are a big part of baseball, but so is writing. I guess if I wanted to, I could make a case for why baseball is truly and educational experience but I won't right now. I'll just make sure I have a couple of cold ones in the fridge for tonight and pick up the fixings so we can make our own pizza. I believe the Sox will hand the Cards their ass on a platter tonight - but I believe that every game the Sox will do that. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't and sometimes I write about it.

The Mets, The Wilpons, NY Fans

About the Wilpons: The Wilpons or "Coupons" got alot of heat because it was believed that players like Al Leiter and John Franco would run back to them and tell them everything about the team. Fred seemed to forget his team plays in a big market. The fans will come out if the team is playing well. After the 2000 season they should have signed AROD. I know the stories about what he wanted and all that other stuff. Who knows how AROD would have reacted to playing with the Mets. I know all about all his struggles with the Yankees. Mets fans wanted Vladimer Guerrero. They didn't get him. When nobody — even the Braves — was offering Glavine 4 years, Fred did. We all can't wait to get his contract off the books. Fred and his son don't know anything about baseball. They should not have any input on major baseball decisions.

I might be one of the only Mets fans who still loves Bobby Valentine. Bobby had his faults. But that team won for him every year except his last one. The Wilpons let the players dictate the firing of Valentine. That's not to say it was his time to go. But I don't think Wilpon made that decision. Now the new Mets network has made getting the best available players a priority. Fred knows he needs stars to make this go.

Omar Minaya was the right choice for the main reason he knew what was going on in the organization. He was only gone for a couple of years. I like Omar. His pitches to Pedro and Beltran both came with lots of green behind them. But he still had to convince Pedro to even consider signing with a team that lost 90 games.

I like Willie as a manager. I know the Mets don't have alot of great arms in the pen but I would like him to use the bullpen better. This is not the Bronx. We don't have a shutdown closer in his prime like Rivera.

The Mets are fine and going in the right direction. I have faith in Omar and Willie leading this team to great things in the future.

About the NY Area Baseball Fans:

It's an interesting question because the mood changes daily. New York is a front-running town. The Yankees have owned the town since 1995. However a good percentage are not "real" Yankee fans. They are front-runners. When they were 11-19 that bandwagon got real light. I started to hear more and more people saying I'm a New York fan. I like both teams. I started to see less and less Yankee gear around town. Even the real Yankee fans were starting to doubt their team. Are we too old? What's going on? Forget thet fact that Steinbrenner decided to play roto baseball with his own team. Then after beating up on the A's and Mariners for 2 weeks the chests starting popping out. We're back.

Mets fans were strutting more as well. A better approach would have been to just take the high road and just be happy and excited about the way the team is playing. I myself am cautiously optimistic. Truth is, at times us Mets fans get baited by the Yankee fans to start the whole who-is-better conversation. The tide is definitely turning. The Mets are getting better and they are still a pretty young team. The Yanks are aging and show no signs of getting younger.

Francona's Pledge

I pledge allegiance
To the pennant
Of the reigning World Series champions.

Unless you’ve been too absorbed in the Royal’s sweep of the Yankees to care about anything else, there is no way you could have missed Boston’s latest uproar against manager Terry Francona. His decision to stick by slumping first baseman Kevin Millar over the defensively superior and recent hot bat of John Olerud has caused much of the team’s fan base to erupt in outrage.

This controversy has been the subject of sports columns and call-in radio shows across New England. There have even been reports of fans shouting into Francona’s open car window to bench Millar. But despite all of the fuss, the manager has not caved to the pressure. Francona has made the point that Kevin Millar is his starting first baseman.

And to the players
for whom I trust.

Let’s not forget that Millar had a similarly slow start last season, but eventually heated up to come through with one clutch hit after another down the stretch. Kevin Millar was on the World Series team. John Olerud was not.

The question of Francona’s loyalty has been answered. He won a championship with this team – the first in eighty-six years – and he’s sticking with his proven players. Do Red Sox fans really have the right to question the very man who delivered them salvation?

No. Terry Francona is a manager. He gets paid to do what sportswriters and fans cannot. It’s that simple. Francona knows what works and what wins. Last year, Doug Meintkievicz was likewise called on as a defensive wiz, but remained Millar’s backup. And look what happened. Kevin Millar had a far greater impact on his team’s World Series win than Doug Meintkievicz did.

So, Boston, give the manager and the first baseman a break. They know what they’re doing. And besides, Millar is way more fun to watch than the stone-faced Olerud. I’d rather have the father of "Cowboy Up" and the Jack Daniels tradition starting over the boring veteran. It’s time to show a little faith in the men who have proven that they know how to win.

One Nation
under the lights,
easily agitated,
with consistent lineups
and victory for all.

{Facts from a June 2nd Hartford Courant report are included in this article.}

Talking Baseball

It is June and time for things like lecture series and such to wind down. Fortunately for me just as one passion is winding down for the season, another is gearing up.

The other day I had the privilege of attending the first of a new lecture series as Fenway Park that will focus on great sports writers. The series founder, George Mitrovich, is modeling the series after two others he founded: The Great American Writer Series (out of the City Club of San Diego) and The Denver Forum. The kick-off speaker for the Fenway Series was Dan Shaughnessy speaking about his current book "Reversing the Curse." In introducing the series, Mitrovich talked about how he had been reading the sports page every day since 2nd grade and how we undervalue sports writers.

He's right - a lot of us learned to read and do math on the sports pages. I think I mastered percentages long before a number of my peers because it's just something baseball fans need to know. Baseball is a game played with heart, soul and sweat but measured by percentages. When people try to play money ball - they end up watching games like yesterday's. (On paper, Embree should've wiped the Angels off the bottom of his cleats… but, as Yogi Berra once said, "In theory, there is no difference between theory and practice, in practice there is.")

Trying to explain to my kids that there used to be an editorial cartoon on the sports page (which often comes up when we're watching a movie like "The Natural") is sort of like our parents explaining the world before television to us - just something that's difficult to comprehend. Either way, the sports page is still one of the major introductions to reading and math for a lot of kids as they try to build a bridge between childhood and the adult world.

Like him or hate him, Shaughnessy is an interesting speaker with a quick wit. When asked about Damon's book, "Idiot," he replied, "He writes the way I play centerfield - quality, quality work." He described winning the World Series last year as our equivalent of the Apollo 11 moon landing, an event that changed history. When you think about it, it truly was an amazing thing that united a number of us fans and large numbers of non-fans. There was some sort of mystique that surrounded that win and made the world sit up and take notice. For a few hours last fall, where the world has failed didn't matter because so many eyes were on Boston and what our team achieved that it seemed as though anything could be possible. He is right about one thing, when it comes to the Sox, we just can't make this stuff up. Fact is truly stranger, and more interesting, than fiction.

Another passion of mine is children's literature. Today I attended the last lecture of the season out at the Eric Carle Museum in Amherst. Paul Zelinsky, an incredible artist whose work blows me away every time spoke about the process of making his recent pop-up book. (Well, it's more animated than pop-up as things move and slide rather than pop up.) I had been waiting for this all year as his work is just truly a marvel and I hung on almost every word… that is until it started creeping closer to game time.

Here I was in Amherst and the Sox were about to take on the Angels in the rubber game of the series. After yesterday's shellacking, there was no way I wanted to miss what happened today. What a tough decision: schmooze with an artist I admire or catch the game?

The choice became easy for me. After listening to the insipid morons at Fox Sports call yesterday's game, I needed to get back to a real play-by-play. (Look - if you don't like the Sox or Boston, then why are you calling the game? Cut a deal with NESN and have a couple of guys who actually care about the ball game instead of the hot chick in the tight red t-shirt in the right field luxury boxes call the game.) So I hopped in my trusty van and headed home.

Fortunately the Red Sox radio network extends to Springfield, unfortunately, I couldn't find it and the AM radio in my car wasn't strong enough to pull it in from Worcester across the Tofu curtain all that clearly. (There's nothing like Troup's voice drowned out by the acceleration of my engine climbing the mountains to get to the Pike to get a girl frustrated - unless it had been the dumb as a bag of rocks FOX duo from yesterday.)

What did come in loud and clear from the Hampshire College campus to the Mass Pike was the Yankees-Twins game. When I was listening, the Yanks were up 2-0. The announcers were going on about how great the Yanks look; the depth of NY's bench and bullpen and this was the best they had seen them play all year. They were obviously proud of the team, but once I hit the Pike and could pick up the Sox, I gladly said goodbye to the Yanks and began to feel good about the 3-0 lead we had against the Angels.

The signal grew stronger as I got closer to Worcester and suddenly the engine stopped drowning out Troup. This meant I could groan loudly as the Angels caught up. As both games continued on, I sort of regretted having lost the signal to the Yanks game. I wonder how their play-by-play and color men were eating crow after their proud declarations early on in the game.

The fun thing about the Pike is you see the other folks with Red Sox plates on their vehicles and they're all like me - hanging on each play as we're cruising down the highway. It didn't surprise me to hear a horn honk and see someone else's fist punch the air when Bellhorn finally connected with the ball, knocking in the go-ahead run. I know there are others with regular or out of state tags doing the same as the folks I noticed, but there's something about the Sox tags that make me feel like I'm part of a special club.

In the end, it was all good. One lecture series overlapped with the other so I don't have to face the summer with nothing but beach reading to stimulate (or kill - as the case may be) my brain cells. So, even though I'll be missing listening to artists talk about how they create worlds for children through their work, I'm looking forward to lunch at Fenway and listening to folks talk about sports writing - which is truly an art form unto itself. Sometimes it really is just good to be in a place like Boston where you can have it all.

Home is Where the Heart Is

If David Wells were to keep a doormat in front of his Fenway locker, I believe it would say only two words: "Go Away." But last Sunday, when "Boomer" returned to the Bronx, would it really have surprised anyone to see a doormat decorating his Yankee Stadium locker with the comforting cliché "Home is Where the Heart Is?"

(Before I continue, I would like to note that I do, in fact, have a friend who decorates his front stoop with a "Go Away" doormat. Naturally, he is a Yankee Fan.)

I have yet to come to terms with Wells’ position as a Red Sox. His signing last winter is one of the few moves I have ever questioned by the usually-savvy Theo Epstein. I have always – and currently still do – associate Wells with the dominant Yankee teams of the late nineties. I believe that Boomer’s heart will forever reside in the Bronx. He played some of his best seasons and won a championship in pinstripes. No matter how many times he now gets booed by the New York crowd, David Wells will always be a Yankee.

My sentiments toward Wells are not based solely on the fact that he once received his paychecks from George Steinbrenner, for I do not hold a similar grudge toward the recently-acquired John Olerud (although Steinbrenner probably does not consider the first baseman to be a "true Yankee.") My dislike for Wells is a result of the sum total of all his actions during his career. I don’t see how I can be expected to accept a pitcher who once threatened to blow up Fenway Park if given the chance. Wells condemned the holiest of all ballparks, making it impossible to believe that he can make Fenway his new home.

When he was originally added to the roster, he was welcomed by many Boston fans for the fact that he would blend in as a fellow "idiot." Despite all the recent talk about team chemistry, last winter, it was rarely questioned that Wells would be anything but a welcome addition. But those same antics that prompted fans to prematurely accept Boomer were the very reasons that fans loathed him during his tenure as a Yankee. Have we really forgotten the old David Wells this quickly?

I just don’t trust Wells to put his heart into this team down the stretch. Yes, he was acquired for his postseason experience. But is he playing for his former enemy for the glory of another championship or for the money? If he became a Red Sox for the paycheck, I could care less about the number of playoff appearances he has.

Furthermore, Wells does not have the stuff right now to be a starter for this team once Curt Schilling returns. Granted, he did stick it to his former team last Sunday with a solid performance, but he is still only 3-4, with an ugly 5.96 E.R.A. His first two starts after returning from his injury were dismal. Boomer is old, overweight, and not even close to the power pitcher he once was. If Boston gets their act together and makes the playoffs, I do not want Wells in the postseason rotation.

David Wells made a statement last weekend in the Bronx, but I’m not exactly sure what that statement was. Was his win a triumphant return from his injury, a possible I-told-you-so to his former team, or a glimmer of hope for Boston? My bet is not on the latter of those three. I’ve heard fans say that Wells is a true student of the sport, continuing his career for the love of the game. As far as I’m concerned, David Wells is the Benedict Arnold of baseball – a traitor in every sense of the word.

I wouldn’t put it past Boomer to have longed for his nostalgic, pinstriped glory last weekend in the Bronx. When he took his old mound to face his former teammates, I could only pray that his paycheck would motivate him to pitch for a win. But, for now, I hope that Wells will someday heed the advice of his Fenway doormat, because in my opinion, he was never welcome in Boston.

{Statistics from mlb.com were used in this article.}

View from the Cheap Seats

As John Fogerty once said, "Hold the phone, the sun came out today. We're born again there's new grass on the field." If there was ever a game that deserved to be a "Centerfield" kind of game - yesterday's makeup game with the Orioles was truly it.

It started with me telling my 13 year old he had to go to school. While I could have been the cool mom and let him come with me, I reminded him that school comes first, packed his lunch and sent him on his way. Besides, this was MY day to play hooky, and I wasn't doing it with my son in tow.

Just after I left the house, I realized that I had left my cap sitting on my desk and the sun was coming out. I figured, as a peace offering to my son, I'd pick up the green "Tessie" cap (he started calling the green caps that after the video came out last year) on my way in.

Like most fans, you always look for superstitious signs of how a game may go and the great computer SNAFU that left most of us caught between the gate and the turn styles for 20 minutes until they could reset the computer did not seem to be a good portent. However, most of us in the front tried to make the best of it - as did the "I work for tips" talent. The juggler, realizing he was playing to an empty street walked up to our gate and began performing, pulling kids past the turn styles to assist them and then pushing them back to join their parents.

Once in, I did the one thing I feel is a big part of the game experience: I headed to canvas alley to see if I could get a couple of signatures on the cap for my son - just to complete the offering. Unfortunately, I did the ultimate klutz thing. Slipping on the wet concrete, I went down, hard, on my backside. Immediately two ushers were at my sides helping me up to make sure I was OK. I gave my usual reply in such situations, "Nothing's hurt but my pride."

First out was Bronson Arroyo, sporting his new braids, who apologized as he ran past us and back into the dug out. Next out were Alan Embree and John Halama to practice a little out by the bull pens.

On the way in, Alan stopped to sign a kid's ball and the feeding frenzy began. One kid had a pen and wanted his glove signed, I know from experience that ball points and gloves don't work too well - my younger boys got their gloves signed at spring training in 2003 and we had to go over it with a sharpie later so that it wouldn't wear off. I handed the kid's dad my sharpie and said, "Make sure he signs the outside, not the inside, so it doesn't wear off." The kid gave me a big, "Thanks!" and stuck the glove and sharpie out.

Embree signed the kid's glove and ball before moving to our side of the media walkway. He signed the brim of my hat just as Hazel Mae began walking towards the media chute.

"Hazel, sign my shirt" someone called out. Surprised, she gladly did so, calling out, "Hey Alan, I'm signing too!"

He laughed, but remembering my 13 year old and his penchant for Hazel, Tessie and Rachael Ray, asked her to sign the hat as well - which she gladly did.

Then came John Halama. (Or, as my son likes to say, "John Halamalamalama" in a meditative monotone.) Initially he was a bit hesitant but once he started signing, he stayed with the crowd the longest. He signed just above Embree on the bill of the cap and I knew my work was done. I gave a call into the teacher's aide in my son's room to tell him, "Let Mr. Pi know that if he gets all his homework done by the time I get home, I have a surprise for him - a signed cap."

One of the older ushers near the first base boxes took a look around to see if "Tessie" was near by to sign for him too, but she was off in other parts of the park working. It was getting late and I headed up to my seat in the back of the grandstands behind first base. It was a good seat to watch the game from, but a bit narrow. By the end of the third inning, my backside was feeling the pain of my hurt pride and I decided to move forward. I managed to get a couple of innings in a box seat that had been left vacated in favor of the beer line before I saw my new friend - the usher who had checked for Tessie for me. I told him that my backside was starting to hurt from the spill I took and he told me I could sit in the folding chairs behind the field boxes behind first for a while.

I realized I've grown so used to the bleachers and right field grand stands, that I forgot how much I love being that close to the field. You aren't quite in the middle of the "Balco, Balco…" chants when Sosa was up, but you can still hear them loud and clear. In fact, I can't imagine how much focus these guys have when you're facing down 90+ mph pitches while people are yelling, "'roids baby, 'roids…" or "You ain't hittin' home runs without the stew - need some juice Balco Boy?" loud and clear.

Of course, I believe that part of the reason the O's failed to capitalize after Gibbons' HR in the second was it has to be demoralizing to have the fan who caught your ball in the bleachers throw it back onto the field. (Whoever threw it had enough on it to get it into the infield from the bleachers - maybe we should think about inviting them to spring training next year.) Last time I saw these two play live was in Baltimore where the stadium staff had to keep flashing "Let's make some noise" on the scoreboard in a failed attempt to try and drown out the Sox fans yelling, "Let's go Red Sox" that echoed through Camden Yards.

In the end, it was a couple of things that stood out about the game overall. Being in the handicap seats, I was next to a woman in a wheelchair who was probably my mom's age reaction to Renteria's 9th inning bunt. She asked if was a "dribbler" or a real bunt - as she couldn't see over the people who jumped up. I told her it was a real bunt.

"Good," she said, it's about time someone in the major leagues learned how to do that.

In the end, with two outs and two on base and two strikes on Big Papi at the bottom of the ninth and the woman in front me practically in tears because it looked like we were going to lose by a run, when Ortiz let loose with the three run walk off homer to win it. We were jumping up and down and on the chairs screaming as if we had just won the World Series all over again.

I called home and my 13 year old was, "I saw it, I saw it! Did you really get me a signed hat? Who signed it?"

As the other song says, "We aren't here to mess around - Boston you know I love you madly hear the crowd roar to your sound."

There was new grass on the field and, at least for Big Papi, a chance to hit the ball and touch them all for a moment in the sun.

Cameron's Creative Accounting

When you talk about misleading numbers it's Mike Cameron's name who comes to my mind. We all know Mike Cameron. The other player in the Ken Griffey Jr. trade. The same man who hit 4 homers in one game in Chicago. The same man who allegedly told Omar Minaya he would move to RF if the Mets signed Carlos Beltran only to then make a fuss about it. The same man who was lousy in centerfield for the Mets last year. That's when I first heard the comments about how misleading his numbers are especially his Home Runs.

Now last year was not a good one for the Mets. Aside from that one-month stretch in late June/early July when the Mets were playing good ball, they always seemed to be losing games so any homer or rbi would be welcomed. But after watching closely this year (and I have probably watched 75% of Mets games this year) I realize how misleading Cameron's numbers really are.

I have told a couple of other Mets fans about this and they say that I just have it in for Mike Cameron. Well I was in Florida for a week. I was able to catch a Monday night Mets/Braves game on TBS. The other two were not televised in Florida. I saw all 4 Mets/Marlins games including seeing Pedro beat the Marlins in person. I also saw the last 2 subway series games on TV. It's amazing. Against the Braves Monday night with the Mets down 4-1, Cameron hits a solo home run in the third inning. Then later in the game with the score 7-5 Braves, here comes Cameron striding to the plate. He's 3 for 3 and it's the bottom of the eight with runners on first and second. A double ties the game. The Braves announcer says Cameron has been on fire since he cam off the DL. Sure he's still batting over .360 with 90 at-bats under his belt. What does Cameron do? He strkes out.

Now Cameron was batting second, so you can say he's supposed to get on base which he has been doing. But he's still considered an RBI man. Let's fast-foward to the following Sunday. Tom Glavine is battling the Marlins escaping jam after jam. The Mets take a 2-1 lead into the 7th inning. The pen explodes and the Marlins now carry a 6-2 lead to the top of the 8th with Mota now pitching. The Marlins are trying to salvage one game of the 4-game set. Here comes Mike Cameron to the plate with runners on first and second and one out. The score is 6-2. Earlier in the game in the first inning Cameron — who is batting third this day — hits a 2-out double with nobody on. What does he do in the 8th inning? He strikes out. In all 23 strikeouts in 90 at-bats. Just look at his numbers.

Cameron has 11 rbi's. He's batting .367. This man has 33 hits and half are for extra bases. In fact in his last 7 games the only RBI's Cameron has is 3. That was in a game the Mets won 12-4. There have been many games where Cameron gets hits with nobody on or he drive in runs with the Mets either up big or down big.

The most telling stat about Cameron is his .222 batting average with runners in scoring position. In all 4-19 with 1 homer and 6 rbi's and 9 strikeouts. In comparison to other Mets like Cliff Floyd and David Wright both over .270 and Carlos Beltran who is over .330. Now Cameron probably won't get traded as long as the Mets are within striking distance in the division.

I'm a huge Mets fan and I don't dislike Cameron. But for 2 years now he never seems to drive in runs in big late inning spots — just watch the Mets games and you can see for yourself. This is just one case where numbers are very misleading. Cameron has great roto value right now. From the outside looking in you would never know the real truth. Mike Cameron is not as productive as his numbers indicate. The Mets need Cameron to play big if they want to win this year.