10 things to like about May, Soxaholics

Nava’s .774 OBP lit the Red Sox offense in early May

Here are 10 things for Sox fans to like about May

-I like how David Ortiz suddenly thought he was Rickey Henderson twice in 3 days this past week, and getting thrown out both times.  He was first thrown out stretching a double into a triple, the throw getting there so far ahead of David that he did not bother to slide.  And second, thrown out trying to get back to the base after stumbling around first on what should have been a stand-up double.  In both cases, he drove in a run, ended the inning, and limited a rally.  But the Sox won both games.

-I like how Scott Podsednik, who last played in MLB on 9-9-10 is now seen running down balls in Fenway’s Centerfield, his red stockings showing all the way up to the knee in Trot Nixon style.   Scott is busting it going down the line, flashing speed and hustle.  The 36 year old veteran has, as of this writing, matching .444 OBP and .444 BA for the Sox.  Nice come back, Scott.

-And as I write this late on June 1, here is Johann Santana, striking out David Freese with a curve in the dirt to record the first no-no in the 51 years of New York Mets history.  Ryan, Seaver, Gooden and Cone didn’t do it.  Johann did.  I like that, too.

 -Josh Beckett, responding after an atrocious outing on May 10 by winning his next 3 starts. He allowed just 3 ER in the 21 and 1/3^rd IP that followed.  The guy has 7 (seven) A+ outings this year.  Do you hear all the crabbing about Josh now?  No, I don’t either.  Like it.

-On March 14, I wrote that Felix Doubront would be a contributor after he threw 4 shutout innings at the Yankees.  He’s been the best starter on the staff, leading it in wins, ERA and strike outs.  Douby projects to 15 -6, 166 IP and 178 K’s.  Looks like we can trust this 24-year-old Venenzuelan to deliver 6 good innings per start from the 4 slot.

- I like the arrival of Will Middlebrooks, who is hitting .316 with 6 home runs in his first 99 plate appearances.  He hit a true laser into the Monster on May 30 off Drew Smyly that left Fenway as quickly as any ball I have seen do so.

-I like the impending departure of Kevin Youkilis, made expendable by his own lack of durability and Middlebrooks’ emergence.  Let’s hope this doesn’t turn out like when the Sox let Wade Boggs drift away because they thought Scott Cooper was the future.

-I like that the Sox lost their first 5 games, and 8 of the first 9 in May, and STILL won more than they lost in for the month. 

-I like a crazy patchwork outfield of Nava, Sweeney and Podsednik, while Crawford, Ross and Ellsbury are on the DL collecting their combined $30 Million in annual salary.

-And I like that Salty is batting .286 with 10 HR’s in 136 plate appearances while carrying the mail behind the plate.  The big kid from West Palm is having a breakthrough year.

I can’t wait for June.

Go Sox.

Racism, Radio & Baseball

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As I said in previous posts, one finds Baseball embedded in unlikely and surprising places.

 

I was in an Antiques Co-op scanning book spines when my eyes fell upon an orange colored hardcover titled, All about Amos & Andy and their Creators, Correll & Gosden.

 

Year of Publication:  1929.

 

Amos & Andy was a situation comedy set in the African American community that was hugely successful first on Radio in the 1920’s, 30’s and 40’s, and later on TV in the early 50’s.

 

Two Caucasian men, Freeman Gosden and Charles Correll, played Amos & Andy, putting on blackface and affecting an African American period dialect.  Andy is the smart one.  He is the President of the Fresh Air Cab Company.  Andy is too lazy to even bait his own hook when fishing.  He persuades his less astute sidekick, Amos, to do the baiting as well as any other dirty work that needs be done.

 

“Crude, repetitious and moronic” was how the Pittsburgh Courier described Correll & Gosden’s portrayal of African Americans in a 1930 denunciation of the show.  At the time, The Courier was the largest circulation African American newspaper in the U.S..

 

 I expected this book to be offensive.  I saw photos, dialogue and text that exemplified how dumb, dishonest, greedy, uneducated and inarticulate these black folk were.

 

Meanwhile, Gosden & Correll are shown to be collegial, creative, hardworking, talented and even kind to black people.

 

“I am disgusted!” comes out of Amos as “I’se regusted !”  “Multiplying and dividing” is “Muslyfyin and reviden” when Andy says it.

 

Amos and Andy were a couple of dum dums.  So dumb they were hilarious to the superior white folks who accepted the stereotype.

 

When I turned to page 76 I found a sepia toned photo of Correll & Gosden, sans black face, surrounded by Ray Schalk and 8 uniformed members of the 1927 White Sox.  They were entertaining Schalk and the boys with tales of a recent Southern performance tour. 

 

I wondered what the connection could be between these performers and MLB.  Could they have been part owners of a team at one time ?  Or a minor league team ?  Or just enormous White Sox fans who made sure this photo was included ?

 

I searched the web, the NY Times archives, even Google Images for any documented connection between MLB and Correll and Gosden.

 

In the end, I found no connection whatsoever.  Until I do, I’ll presume that Amos & Andy were just associating their brand with the wildly popular sport of Baseball, just like Charlie Sheen in a photo op at Yankee Stadium.

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In 1929, MLB likely didn’t mind the association with these performers of openly racist entertainment.

 

In 1912, Ty Cobb was suspended for beating a fan in the stands who had called him a “half-n****r”.  Cobb said he would not take that from any man.  He was quickly reinstated after his teammates didn’t show up for the next game in protest over Cobb’s treatment.

 

Leigh Montville’s fine book on Babe Ruth states that the Babe had to live with taunts about his heritage, frequently referred to by opposing players as “N****r Lips.” 

 

When you really wanted to insult a man to throw him off his game 90 years ago, you used the N word.

 

It was all cool in that day and age.

 

So Radio and Print weren’t the only part of American society that viewed African Americans as second class citizens in 1929 — 18 years before Jackie Robinson was allowed to play in a MLB game.

 

Amos & Andy fit into American Society right next to Baseball.  It was a perfect.  America loved all-white Baseball just as it loved Amos & Andy, who could be heard 6 nights a week all year long.

 

Racism.  Baseball.  Radio.  Publishing.  It all went together.

 

What our grandparents regarded as normal can be thought of as an abomination today.

 

But Racism has not been abolished.  You will hear it spoken aloud if you listen.  I have.

 

It is just spoken more quietly and by fewer people than in Correll & Gosden’s times.

 

Go Sox !

 

Next time life bites, think of Zamperini

I felt fine when I went to sleep last night.  But I must have inhaled a pound of goldenrod yesterday because I woke up today with the impossible to miss signs of early stage bronchitis.  My post nasal had been dripping all night.  It felt like swallowing a swallow (or anything the size of a small boney bird) every time I took a slug of morning joe.

Aside from the sore throat, and a worn throaty speaking voice, I felt wiped out.  I felt like I had slept 2 hours when I had actually slept almost 7.

I decided it would be smart to take a sick day.  Nip this thing right in the bud.  Stay home, watch movies, eat popcorn, and heal up.

Such thoughts made me smile ear to ear.

And then I thought about Louie Zamperini.

Louie grew up a poor little thief in Torrance, California.  He constantly stole food, bikes, money, anything.  He ran away so fast with the booty that he could not be caught.  After flunking his way into the 10^th grade, he began to run track.  By the time he was 20, he had broken every amateur miler record in the books and run the 1500 meters in the 1936 Olympics in Munich.

By 1946, he had been shot down in a B-24 over the Pacific, been marooned on a raft at sea for 47 days, and been interred in a series of Japanese P.O.W. camps over 3 years.  He was constantly tortured, denigrated, forced to haul fece, do push ups in fece, and live in fece.  He dropped 70 pounds.  Finally, he was allowed to soar on the wings of liberation just 7 days before he was to be executed with every other P.O.W. held in the waning days of WWII.

By 1952, Louis had staggered through years of despair.  He was fleeced in a series of sham investments, been married to a special woman but never felt psychologically well enough to make the marriage work.  By then he had also met Billy Graham.  The preacher helped Louie find peace, and the love to forgive the men who cut him, kicked him and punched him in the face every day for 3 years.  

I choked back tears when I read how Louie felt when the prison guards ran away from the prison in August of 1945, leaving the emaciated Allied GI’s free to watch American pilots tossing provisions from the sky into the prison yard.  I welled up again when Louie found withheld mail containing family photos, beloved that he had not seen in 5 years.  The Japanese had denied him his life, his family, and his dignity.

With all of that in mind, I thought, shoot, I can go to work.  If Zamperini could be knocked down 10,000 times and come up standing with feces and blood about him, how could I ever complain about the comparatively small problems that I endure?

Louis is 95 years old now.  I hope he lives long enough to see a movie made about his life, as was documented in Laura Hillenbrand’s acclaimed best selling book, Unbroken.  Universal bought the option last year.

Louie’s life is a testament to how much a person can endure, and how even the most heinous crimes can be forgiven by its victims.

Amen.

Go Sox.

Oil Can Boyd & the Red Menace: 2 we can do without

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On Nov. 19, 2007, Oil Can Boyd arrived late at the World Series Club dinner for which he was to be the featured speaker.  He wasn’t apologetic.  He strutted in with a big chip on his shoulder.

There was hope that the eccentric hurler would be insightful and entertaining.  Perhaps he’d explain why he became angry when he wasn’t selected for the 1986 All Star team, subsequently going AWOL and being suspended by the Sox.  Or maybe he would tell us how it felt to pitch the Division clincher at Fenway, propelling Boston into the ’86 playoffs.

No chance.  He was all working class braggadocio, asserting his greatness (in his own mind) and fudging his way through 30 minutes of innocuous and boring drivel.  His speaking skills were non-existent, his focus spun out of control.  Never again, I told myself.  The Can is a mess.

Boyd is all over the media this week promoting his new book, They call me Oil Can, co-written with Mike Shalin.

Can wasn’t any more coherent this week than he was in 2007.   He told WEEI’s Dennis & Callahan that…and I am paraphrasing…although he had smoked pot and crack cocaine while playing in the MLB, he was still the greatest athlete on any field when he was on it, so imagine just how great he could have been sober, but never second guess his right to smoke crack or pot before a game because doing drugs is an inalienable right, and even with the drug habit he was still better than everyone else, and his drinking and drugging was an abomination…but he doesn’t regret it…yada yada yada. 

He further told the EEI guys that he was blessed with “a super uncanny ability to play baseball”.  “I went 16 – 10 in ’86 but missed a month, I should have been 20 – 6.”

“I smoke pot…I’ve been doing that since I was 12 years old…I made it to the Major Leagues smoking weed…I made my high school baseball team smoking weed..I’m in my college Hall of Fame…I’m in my conference Hall of Fame.”

I think we can guess where Oil Can stands on legalization of marijuana.

And then there was his take on racism on the Red Sox.  Can is certain that one Hall of Fame 3rd Baseman and the front office that tolerated him were the tandem that fomented bigotry in Beantown.

“I know Wade Boggs was a bigot.  He was raised that way.  His Daddy was.  He was.  He used the word nigger every day.  I confronted him about it every time he did it.  But I would turn out to be the bad guy every time I did.”

You can listen to the 20 minute interview on www.weei.com.  By the time it concludes, Can has dropped several F bombs and hung up on the radio hosts.

He’s out of control.

He is an embarrassment.

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Speaking of embarrassments to Baseball, I am enjoying the Mike Bass book about the most eccentric owner in baseball history, Marge Schott Unleashed.

I like that title, with its leash reference. It recalls how the red menace would lead her German shepard, Schotzie, around Riverfront Stadium, where he one day peed in a luxury box near, but not upon, the Commissioner of Baseball.

Bass explains how MLB did not properly vet Marge Schott before approving her purchase of the Reds in 1984.  Had they dug a bit, they may have run away like a hound in a hornet’s nest.

Bass defines Marge’s constant and casual use of the N word.  She referred to Dave Parker at the Millionaire N****r.  She called Eric David the Trouble Maker N****r.  Her nickname for Hall of Famer Joe Morgan was The Little N****r.

Her bigotry wasn’t limited to African Americans.

When her GM was closing a lucrative deal with Ticketmaster for her, she instructed him to watch his back because she didn’t trust those “sneaky Jews”.

She also didn’t like homosexuals.

She also didn’t approve of pre-marital sex.  She fired Davey Johnson for living with his fiancé even though he won a Division title.

She didn’t like people purchasing “cars made by Japs”.  She didn’t like it that Asian American kids outdid others in school.

She had a Nazi armband.  She praised Adolf Hitler.  “He was good at the beginning but went too far.”

Great gal, wasn’t she ?  Marge Schott’s racism was so acute it bordered on the surreal.

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Oil Can Boyd and Marge Schott are/were car wrecks.  Oil Can ruined his career with drink and drugs.  He made himself miserable.  Marge Schott, as far as I can tell, made everyone around her unhappy.

These are two rare and strange birds, indeed.

Let’s count our lucky stars they don’t make them like that anymore.

Go Sox.

Pieces of April

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It has already been a remarkable season, a roller coaster ride for the Nation.  Here are some highlights of a memorable April.

Josh Beckett allowed 5 homeruns to Detroit on April 7.

Clay Buchholz allowed 5 homeruns to the Yankees on April 20.

The Sox reeled off their 3rd straight win on April 15 – after having lost 5 of 6. Bobby Valentine then poisoned the clubhouse with anti-Youkilis rhetoric, which was followed by 5 straight losses from April 16 to 22.

All of that was followed by the Sox winning 5 in a row from April 23 to 27.  A rainout in between the streaks brought the healing.  Playing the Twins and White Sox didn’t hurt either.

200 former Red Sox were present at the 100th anniversary celebration of Fenway on April 15.

The next day’s NY Post headline shouted “100 Years of Kicking Ass” touting the Yankees’ 6-2 win.  Typical New York crass talk.

Johnny Pesky and Dobby Doerr were rolled out in wheel chairs at the Fenway anniversary.  It is sad to see such fine and loveable men constrained by infirmity.

Jon Lester looked absolutely lost in Minneapolis as he blew a 3 – 0 lead, seemingly perplexed by the Twins ability to hit him.

Danny Valencia, batting .218, and not noted as a power hitter, crushed a Lester fastball 410 feet for a 3 run homer to dead center.

The Yankees decided that starter Michael Pineda will miss a year with an anterior labral tear.  That news was quickly followed by a sighting of Mariners DH Jesus Montero taking Ricky Romero yard for his 3rd homerun of 2012.  Brian Cashman, I love you.

The Miami Marlins found themselves in last place despite the new stadium, new manager, and having signed Heath Bell, Mark Buehlre, Carlos Zambrano and Jose Reyes.  There was also Ozzie Guillen’s flippant support of Fidel Castro.  The Marlins have not sold out a game, even on opening day, in this beautiful new park that seats just 37,442.  What a mess.

We witnessed the sudden passing of Moose Skowron due to congestive heart failure and complications of lung cancer.  Although a true blue Yankee, Moose was a good and down-to-earth guy.  He spoke at the World Series Club of Hartford County on 11-17-03.  He impressed that audience with an ability to be abruptly honest and accidently funny.  Farewell and God speed, Bill.

The national media noticed Dylan Bundy, the top pitching prospect in the Orioles system.  All Bundy did was to pitch his first 13 innings of pro ball without giving up a hit.  The Delmarva Shorebird faced 40 batters, recording 39 outs and yielding a walk.  This 19-year-old Tulsa native has a fastball that touches 99 mph, plus a curve and change.  Watch out AL East.

Tim Lincecum surprised everyone with his 8.04 ERA and 1 – 2 record.

A psychic referendum is underway on the status of Bobby Valentine as Red Sox Manager.  Will he complete his 2 year contract ?  Will he last until Labor Day ?  Sox fans are now very familiar with the narcissistic, attention loving Valentine and stomachs are churning all over New England.  Bobby is a sideshow that the Sox do not need.  Larry, you’re the Man, but you need to find a better manager.

Carl Crawford hit the Red Sox lottery when he went pay-for-no-play with a wrist injury.  The ordinarily hard working Crawford will be lost for almost all of the 2012 season.  Carl is pulling down $19,500,000 for not swinging a bat or running down a fly or performing any other game activity this year.  Good god.

May the next month be brighter.   Go Sox !

Baseball is where you find it.

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One never knows when one will stumble across “our game” as we go about living our non-baseball lives.  In the three cases featured in this blog, baseball is found at a magazine launch party, on a country road in search of lunch, and in a 83 year old book about a famed radio comedy act – and it isn’t Abbott & Costello.

Last week, while heading back to Connecticut from Exeter, R.I., I decided to get off the well beaten path.  I took Rt. 154 from Old Saybrook through the charming town of Essex and into the classic New England town of Deep River.  Rt 154 alternately hugs the wide waters of the Connecticut, than swings through the center of many a small town.  The sky was blue and clear.  The air was fresh.

I was hungry.  There was a healthy food option along this colorful route, an IGA 1 mile ahead.

I slowed and pulled over quickly when a small marvel came into view.  It was a concrete baseball, about 4 feet in circumference, on a landscaped pedestal adorning the entrance to a place named Devitt Field.

There were Little League fields in the complex behind the pull-in.  I parked.  I took a closer look at this 3 ton bauble.

It was inscribed “In Memorium, John George Desmond, Secretary & Treasurer, Middlesex County Baseball League, 1907 – 1942.”

Bummer, I thought.  Desmond died young at age 37 and they erected the memorial to him because he was a local figure in youth and rec leagues.

Wrong.

On, June 23, 1942, The Hartford Courant ran a story titled, J.G. Desmond Dies; Leader in Baseball.

Desmond was actually born in 1868, and was 74 when he passed at Hartford Hospital after a short illness.

J.G., according to The Courant, played in the Southern league in the 1880’s, later got a job at a piano factory in Deep River, and helped found the Middlesex County Baseball League, “one of the first semi-pro leagues in the United States.” , in 1907.

J.G. was much respected.  8 years before his death, he was given a dinner in his honor.  The featured speaker at the dinner was none other than George Moriarty, who swung a bat in the majors for 13 years, including 6 with Cobb and the Tigers, later followed by a career as an A.L. Umpire from 1917 to 1940.

The dinner was held at the Middletown YMCA.  All 300 tickets were sold in advance.  In addition to Moriarty, other speakers included James Murphy, a former Penn pitcher, Dr. Bill Wrang, a Red Sox team physician, and assorted Mayors, Judges and Selectman.

Courant Sports Editor, Albert Keane, not only spoke at the fete but wrote nuggets about the dinner in the 3 days following the event.  He recalled how Moriarty compared Big Ed Walsh (of Meriden, CT) to Christy Mathewson, he argued that as great as Big Six was he could not compare in stamina and durability to Big Ed.  He further said that Walsh’s spitter was “far more destructive to batting averages than Matty’s fadeaway.”.

Keane further observed that the spirited and sold out dinner should have  calmed the “calamity shouters who like to tell us that tennis, golf, soft ball and other summer sports have killed baseball….”.

Funny thing.  I had a friend tell me that soccer was killing baseball in 1999.  It was just a matter of time before soccer playing youth broke from their baseball bondage and left the national pastime in economic tatters.

Some things never change.

In the polite hyperbole of the 1930’s, Keane quoted one attendee as describing Mr. Desmond in this way:   “…he’s a kind hearted, good natured fellow who always wants everyone to have a fair deal and everyone satisfied.  Desmond and the league are one.”.

So there.  I’ve scratched the surface on the diamond of a man that was John George Desmond of Deep River, CT.

I’ve gone on longer than expected about J.G..  I’ll pitch the other two discoveries very quickly.

 And I’ll sign back on to do that soon.

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Get the bat off your shoulder, Cody

Daniel Bard pitched 6 and 2/3’s innings on Patriots Day, yielding only 1 run.  He struck out 7 and walked 7.  It is too bad that he lost, 1 – 0.  Had the Sox won, a 4-game sweep of the punch-less Rays would have offset the 1 – 5 start they recorded in Detroit and Toronto.

Cody Ross had a bad day, too.  The game ended with the bat on his shoulder and called strike three nipping the outside corner.

Jerry Remy disagreed with the way Larry Vanover called strikes this day.  The Rem Dawg has a lot of company. There are at this moment enough Vanover bashers to fill the blogosphere.

How bad is this Ump ?  Vanover doesn’t come up on the lists of deficient arbiters via google searches – as do CB Bucknor or Tim Welke.

But one wonders.  The NY Daily News reported 8 days ago that Jason Bay was called out on strike 3 by Vanover on a ball “that was clearly not a strike.”  And the normally reticent Bay actually beefed about the call.

As far as Bay was concerned, it was bad enough that he had to face Stephen Strasburg and hear the taunts of Mets fans over his slow start at the plate.  Being called out on a ball that was not a strike was salt in the wound.

Vanover is a seasoned veteran.  He is in his 19th year in MLB.  He has umpired in 1 All Star Game, 3 Championship Series, 2 Division Series and 1 World Baseball Classic. 

He is ranked on www.statfox.com as the 11th out of 66 umps for most frequently having a K occur when is the home plate umpire – called or swinging K’s.  Vanover averages 17.5 K’s per game.

Vanover is far higher up the ranks when it comes to calling a base-on-balls.  He is the 3rd highest out of 66 umps in giving a man his base.  He averages 10 BB called per game.

Let me tell you what I saw from my bar room view of the NESN broadcast.  Cody Ross allowed pitches to pass that looked less than 3 inches away from the black.  I would never presume to give batting instruction, but I think you have to swing at those.

And as for Mr. Bard, he seemed to be on the receiving end of the same fraternity paddle.  His pitches came within 3 inches of the black.  They were called balls.  I’m not a pitching instructor, and I know this isn’t completely fair to say, but I think when you come that close to the plate you have to take responsibility for not getting even closer and removing all doubt.

So I would not judge Mr. Vanover too harshly or quickly.

I’ll tell you one thing.  I really liked what I saw from Mr. Bard today.  He was a stalwart for 6 innings.  You can second guess Valentine for not pulling him earlier.  It doesn’t matter.  What does matter is that the kid contributed a quality start from the 5^th spot in the rotation.  Last year, no. 5 starter Tim Wakefield started 23 games.  He gave us 3 starts of this caliber in the entire 6 months of the 2011 season.  That’s 1 great start about every 7 starts.   This kid already has one in his 2^nd start.

I think we are going to see many, many more from Daniel Bard.

Go Sox !

POSTSCRIPTS:  Yesterday’s odd triple play in the Dodger-Padre game is worth watching.  A bird’s eye view might show the ball first landing behind the plate in foul territory, but that perspective isn’t available and this one went down officially as a 2-5-6-3 triple play.  Anything can happen in baseball.  Check it out at:  http://mlb.mlb.com/news/article.jsp?ymd=20120415&content_id=28774198&vkey=news_mlb&c_id=mlb

Michael Kay is an ignorant gas bag.  Not every day and in every way.  But he sounded like a moron when he chastised Dustin Pedroia for saying that Bobby Valentine’s public criticism of Kevin Youkilis is “not the way we do things around here.”  Kay opined that Pedroia’s analysis was not too swift because “the way they do things up there got their manager fired last year.”.  Kay showed how little he understands Dustin Pedroia, because if he did, he’d have said Dustin is a great player and great team mate, but it would serve everyone best if Dustin  stayed out of this messy, messy situation brought on by the narcissistic Mr. Valentine.  Question:  What kind of fool decides to stir the pot when the team he manages is on a winning streak ?  Answer:  The kind who lives to be in the white hot camera light.  That’s Valentine. 

Shoppach starts the Party at Home Opener

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Things weren’t looking so good.  The Sox had gone 1 – 5 on the season opening road trip to Detroit and Toronto.  Except for scoring 12 runs in a game in which Detroit scored 13, our offense was scoring 2.0 runs per game.   Our starters had a 6.68 ERA to this point.  Ouch. 

The buzz before the home opener was not positive.  One pundit said the Sox were opening at home on September 37, not April 13, because the 1 – 5 start was a continuation of the 7 – 20 September collapse. 

Certainly, we needed a laugher.  And we got one.

The atmosphere around Fenway was popping.  I got to O’Leary’s on Beacon Street 2 hours before game time and scarfed down a beer, a jameson and a burger.  Then I hit the bricks.  The streets were sunlit and bright.   Yawkey Way was jammed with working class fans.  Though I did see one wing tipped baron towing a grandson while telling someone on a cell phone that they could hook up at the Four Seasons at 5 p.m..

It is always striking how Caucasian the Red Sox crowd is.  The only people of color I saw in the park were those selling hot dogs or working security.  The diversity of Red Sox Nation is limited to the fact that we reside in 6 different states.  Not too many black dudes.  But plenty of Maineiacs, Green Mountaineers, New Hampshireites, Rhode Islanders and others wearing Whaler caps.

I threaded my way through Will Call and into the park, noting a brand new staircase that has been built down to the field box level from where I entered at Gate A.  Rather than fight the crowd beneath the RF grandstand to get to my seat, I walked out into the stands, climbing to the top and walking from GS 18 to GS 1, where I took the stairway down to the bleachers.

I found my seat in the front row of bleacher 41.  There was nothing between my spot and the bullpen except the walkway and the row of folding chairs.  I moved up to the ‘pen for a look.

I leaned over the railing, standing 7 feet from where Josh Beckett was snapping off pregame throws.  From that proximity, his velocity looks impossible to hit and the ball slams into the catcher’s mitt with nasty violence.

You wonder how a man who throws that hard can embarrass hitters one inning and then be hit all over the park in the next.  Mere mortals cannot hit this stuff. 

Someone remarked that the Red Sox needed to get on the board early if they were going to beat David Price, Tampa’s starting pitcher this day.  Price is a 6’ 6” lefty out of Vanderbilt University who strikes out many and walks few.  He finished second in the Cy Young balloting in 2010.  The 26 year old has been to 2 All Star Games.  Price went 4 – 1 in 5 starts versus Boston in 2011.

This was not to be his day.  He got through the first without a challenge.  But he needed 27 pitches to get 3 outs in the second.  Youk started it by grinding out a long at bat before singling.  Ortiz did the same.  Although McDonald & Ross struck out looking and no runs were scored, the Sox had started to wear Price out. 

By the end of the third inning, the Valentine Men had run the lefthander’s pitch count to 84.  The Sox had been patient, making him throw strikes, fouling him off.  Price was now all done.  He faced 8 batters and gave up 3 runs.  He was ultimately bailed out by an inning ending double play.  84 pitches in 3 innings.  There was no way they were going to bring him out for the 4^th.

The guy who started the party was Kelly Shoppach.  The 31 year old itinerant catcher has a habit of getting hit by pitches.  He led the AL with 18 HBP’s in 2009.  He has been hit 3 times already in 2012.

Mr. Shoppach started the 3^rd inning rally by leaning into a Price fastball and taking his base.  The next inning, he doubled and scored.  In the 6^th inning, he singled and stole second to extend the inning.  In the 8^th, he doubled again, driving in Ross and McDonald.

Was this the greatest day of Kelly Shoppach’s career ?  Quite possibly.  I don’t know.  But I do know that on a day when it seemed a dozen soft liners fell for Red Sox singles, Kelly Shoppach was the party starter.  And it was beautiful to behold.  Especially his career first stolen base.  He looked like a water buffalo tripping in midstride when he got within 10 feet of the bag.

Mr. Beckett pitched carefully and pitched well.  His fastball varied at 90, 91 and 94 mph.  His curve was clocked at 74 and his cutter at 87 mph.  He claims to have been relaxed enough to hit the corners this day, with a confidence that comes from a great fielding performance by his team mates.

In all, it was a satisfying day.  The F-16 Fighters flew overhead.  The gigantic American Flag covered the Monster.  An 11 year old girl from New Hampshire belted God Bless America, briefly forgetting the words, but supported and sustained by the crowd.

The Boston Pops concert chorus sang the national anthem.  It was P-E-R-F-E-C-T-I-O-N.

Varitek and Wakefield threw out the first pitches.  Dewey Evans and Jim Rice were on hand to catch.

The Sox scored 8 runs in the 8^th and won 12 -2.

One annoying drunkard in section 41, who is pictured in the above photo gallery with a blond gal seated nearby, convinced the bleacher crowd to harass Tampa Right Fielder Ben Zobrist for the last 4 innings by shouting childish insults and mocking him. It was moronic and ignorant.  I quietly cheered when Zobrist launched a home run that landed near the moron in the 9^th inning.

Only cowards harass the right fielder from the bleachers.  The player has his back to you.  He can’t see his tormentors.  This would never happen on the left field side of Fenway, where the left fielder would easily glance to his right and see the face of the (insert bad word) who thinks he’s a genius.

Speaking of bad karma, the Sox were visited by some when Reid Brignac, Tampa shortstop, landed on Ellsbury’s shoulder while starting a double play at second base.  They say Ells may be out for two months.  That is not only bad for super agent Scott Boros, who is ready to milk the Ellsbury market for all it is worth in the coming offseason.  This is very bad news for the Sox.  We are down to FOUR offensively potent position players as a result.

Bad news indeed.  Unless Kelly Shoppach steps up and becomes the party starter on a more regular basis.

Go Sox.

Gary Carter, a dream fulfilled

 

You really shouldn’t mess with Ray Knight.  At 6 ft 1” and 185 wiry strong pounds, the former gold glove boxer had a fast and stunning jab.  On July 22, 1986 in the 10^th inning at Riverfront Stadium, that is exactly what Eric Davis did.  Davis stole third and laid on top of the Mets third baseman.  As they separated, Ray popped Davis on the chin.  Chaos ensued.  The dugouts and bullpens emptied.  Catcher Gary Carter pinned Davis to the ground as shouts and threats poured from the Reds outfielder.  After a 10 minute delay things settled down.  Knight, Davis and Mets outfielder Kevin Mitchell were ejected.

 

 

 

The score was tied.  The Mets were out of 3^rd basemen and back-up outfielders.  Manager Davey Johnson placed Gary Carter at 3^rd base, where he had not played since sandlot days.  Johnson sent lefty reliever Jesse Orosco to the outfield.  He placed righty reliever Roger McDowell on the mound.  For the next 5 innings, Johnson shuffled Orosco and McDowell back and forth from the mound to the outfield depending on who was hitting.  Meanwhile, Gary Carter had the time of his life playing 3^rd base as the Mets won it with 3 runs in the 14^th.

 

 

 

Carter gleefully embraced that chance to play 3^rd.  He grabbed a fielder’s glove, whipped off his catchers gear and thought, “This is great !  I get to play Brooks Robinson’s position.”

 

 

 

That was how Mr. Carter approached life.  All of it.

 

 

 

A Dream Season.  Gary Carter with John Hough.  Harcourt Brace.  1987.

 

 

 

Dream Season is the story of a dream fulfilled.  Gary Carter grew up in Fullerton, California, playing wiffle ball with his older brother, Gordy, in back of their home.  He spent a lot of time standing at the plate, dreaming he was Mickey Mantle. 

 

 

 

World Series.  2 outs. 2 men on.  Bottom of the 9^th.   Team down by 2.

 

 

 

He spent a lot of time thinking about Ernie Banks.  19 MLB seasons.  512 homeruns.  Two time MVP.  He thought of how Ernie Banks never played in a World Series.

 

 

 

Young Carter would give anything to play in a World Series, he thought.

 

 

 

After being drafted and signed by the Expos in 1973, Carter progressed through 3 minor league seasons and landed in Montreal.  There he established himself as an All Star catcher with a big smile and a knack for hitting with men on base.

 

Clubhouse haters were jealous of Carter’s popularity.  The Hawk, HOF’er Andre Dawson, kept his distance.  Ellis Valentine and Warren Cromartie, among others, mocked the catcher.

 

Carter earned numerous accolades & achievements while an Expo, including 7 All Star appearances, 4 Gold Gloves, 2 Silver Sluggers, 1 RBI title, 2 All Star Game MVP awards, and 5 times garnering NL MVP votes.

 

 

 

Team owner Charles Bronfman resented his All Star catcher.  Expos President John McHale had talked Bronfman into signing Carter for $14 million over 7 years in February of 1982 to preclude Carter from leaving via free agency.

 

 

 

$2 Million may be what a mediocre reliever earns today but it was top dollar in 1982.  Only Dave Winfield and George Foster were pulling down $2 Mill at that time.

 

 

 

Bronfman was dissatisfied with Carter.  He hit well, averaging .285 B.A., with 24 or more homers and 94 RBI from 1982 to 1984.  Bronfman wanted more. 

 

 

 

LA Times columnist Jim Murray wrote, “What does Gary Carter have to do to be appreciated ?  If he were to save an infant from a burning building, the mother would ask, Where is my kid’s hat ?”.

 

 

 

Bronfman wanted Carter to lead the Expos to the World Series. It didn’t happen. In successive years after the contract signing, the Expos finished third, third and fifth.

 

 

 

On Dec. 10, 1984, the Expos sent Carter to the Mets for four players including Hubie Brooks.

 

 

 

The Expos finished no better than third for the 7 seasons that followed.

 

 

 

The book details his days as an Expo, the departure from the dysfunctional Montreal locker room and the arrival in the nirvana of the Mets organization, studded with young hitting and pitching stars.

 

 

 

Carter takes us through the championship season, one of the last years before the widespread tainting of MLB by performance enhancing drug use.  It’s a story from a slightly more innocent time, told to us by a God fearing family man.

 

 

 

Carter captures the demise of the 1986 Boston Red Sox in great clarity.  Some golden nuggets:

 

 

 

The guilt of the monumental “passed ball” in Game 6 is placed on Rich Gedman’s shoulders.  The pitch was wild but it was obvious exactly where that ball was headed.  It was a catchable ball.  That is why Wilson, the batter, was able to get out of its way. 

 

 

 

Carter repeatedly calls Marty Barrett “a little pest.”  Barrett earned the sobriquet.  He batted .433 in the 2-hole between Boggs and Buckner.

 

 

 

Bruce Hurst did not live up to Bob Ojeda’s scouting report as “soft”.  Carter said that Hurst could pitch in any league.  He was super.

 

 

 

Calvin Schiradi had been the stopper in the Sox bullpen all year.  But Calvin’s former team mates on the Mets knew they could hit Cal.  They did, hanging 2 losses and a 13.50 ERA on him in the Series.  Schiraldi’s failures were the key to the World Series defeat.

 

 

 

Interestingly, Carter cites Mookie Wilson’s desire and positive energy as a reason that the ball slipped between Buckner’s legs.  Wilson played all out as a sub in 1986 after having lost his starting job in the outfield.  When Wilson weakly hit a Bob Stanley pitch up the line in the bottom of the 10^th in Game 6, he busted to 1^st base with everything he had.  Wilson’s speed was on Buckner’s mind when he took his eye off the ball for a micro-second, at exactly the wrong time, according to Carter.  It made all the difference.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Carter closes this book by recognizing that he had reached the World Series, his promised land, and that he would not end up as Ernie Banks did.  He thanked Jesus Christ.

 

 

 

With the passing of Gary Carter on Feb. 16 came multitudes of praise for a decent, wholesome, fun loving man, a man who loved his wife, Sandy, and children.  There is nothing in this 25 year old book to make you think otherwise.  He takes his shots in a fair manner and keeps this very interesting book positive.

 

 

 

There’s no better time to pick this book up for a read.  It helps to put Gary’s life, now complete, in perspective.  And helps us do the same with our own.

 

 

 

Go Sox.

Calhoun should depart with dignity — in 2014.

I’m writing this before I read anything about Thursday night’s disturbing game in which Iowa State bounced UConn from the NCAA first round, 77 – 64. 

 

The Huskies looked unnerved and poorly coached.  Andre Drummond showed that he has no clue about offense after spending a full year under his Hall of Fame Coach.  Alex Oriaki was out-of-synch when he got near a rebound or his own basket.  Jeremy Lamb stayed in his shell for 25 minutes, waiting for someone else to step up and be the best Husky on the floor.

 

Ultimately, the poor performance is Calhoun’s problem, not the players.

 

Connecticut is out of the Big Dance and standing at a crossroads with Jim Calhoun.

 

Should he stay or should he go ?  Left to his own devices, Jim will never leave.  The ego is too big.  Jim seems unconcerned with making a classy exit.

 

When Dean Smith retired from UNC in 1997 he left with dignity – and 2 National titles, 11 Final Fours and a record 879 victories.  He produced NBA stars, D1 Coaches, good students, and Michael Jordan.  Smith was 66 years old at the time.  He left with a squeaky clean reputation.

 

There are similarities between the accomplishments of Dean and Jim.

 

Jim will be 70 years old on May 10.  He has 866 career Div 1 victories.  His UConn dossier includes 3 National Titles, 1 NIT Title, 4 Final Fours, 27 NBA players, and 4 D-1 Head Coaches.

 

Jim has had some academically talented students.  There was Kemba Walker and Emeka Okafor.  But Jim isn’t squeaky clean on grades & recruiting like Dean Smith.

 

Jim is responsible for failing to comply with NCAA regulations.  Eleven months ago, Calhoun received a 3 game suspension and UConn was placed on a 2-year probation.  The team forfeited one scholarship.  These punishments were for recruiting violations and for failing to create an atmosphere of compliance.    

 

Jim has also for several years brought in academically challenged student-athletes who lowered UConn’s graduation rate. As a result, it’s nearly a foregone conclusion that UConn will be banned from the 2013 N.C.A.A. Tournament.  Calhoun is ultimately responsible for accepting these ball players.

 

Given that, it is a little creepy to think about how Jim has defended the low graduation rate at UConn by referring to some non matriculating players as having “graduated to the N.B.A.”.

 

There is a dull odor of arrogance in that comment.

 

There are some real pros and cons to Jim staying.

 

If he leaves now he will damage the University’s recruiting capabilities.  Taking away the N.C.A.A. Tournament AND the lure of being coached by a Hall of Famer is a double whammy.

 

But, if he leaves now the wheels will be set in motion to build the program under a new Coach. 

 

If he stays, he can steer the ship away from the rocks and make ready for his successor.

 

 

And, if Jim stays he will be a constant reminder of the 2012 banishment that 3.5 Million Connecticut residents will endure next year.

 

Making matters worse, Husky Nation will likely see Lamb and Drummond leave in the NBA Draft.  Next year could get ugly.

 

My vote is to keep Jim in the job for two more years.  Let him clean up the program and make the violations and academics a distant memory.  Give him a chance to depart with dignity and in the manner of Dean Smith.

 

In the long run, it is best to get the transition going.  Thursday night Calhoun had a bunch of kids on the floor who (except for Shabazz Napier) did not want the ball in crunch time.  Napier, and Walker before him, are exceptions.   The last 6 years have seen a steady parade of Huskies that did not learn, improve, work together or step up.

 

Jim’s lost something off his fastball.  For sure.