Limping off the DL.

SCOREBOARD: "Last year, JD Drew ranked fourth out of all AL outfielders with a .911 OPS"

GUY BEHIND US: "Does anyone even know what OPS is?"
HIS FRIEND: "I do."
GUY: "RIght, so what is it?"
FRIEND: "OBS?"
GUY: "OPS, dude, it says OPS."
FRIEND: "Well, it's OBS."
GUY: "Fine, OBS, OPS, whatever. But what does it mean? You claim you know, so tell me."
FRIEND: "OBS means...on-base percentage."
GUY: "Is 900 good?"

US, REFRAINING FROM TURNING AROUND AND SAYING THIS TO THESE FINE GENTLEMEN, AND INSTEAD JUST LAUGHING BETWEEN OURSELVES: "Nah, man, a 900 OBS is just walking and clogging up the basepaths. Everyone knows JD Drew's a baseclogging jerk who doesn't care about baseball. Now, 900 RBI and a dirty cap, on the other hand..."


Last night, we went to a baseball game. It'd been a while--Futures at Fenway was our last attempt, and the skies opened and poured down on us and, lo, we were soaked to the bone and the poor kids from Salem had to take a long busride back home without playing a single inning on the hallowed grounds--and we were getting antsy. But things worked out in our favor, and by 5:00 we were pre-gaming at McGreevey's.* A couple of really weak drinks and an inning or two of the LLWS, and we were on our way.

We're not going to get into an intensive play-by-play here--either you watched the game, or you didn't, and there are plenty of places on the internet to get that kind of information--but we figured, hey, what better way to get off the DL and into the game than by talking about a game we actually attended? Much better than bitching about Sullivan's Tire commercials.

And, while we're profoundly not thrilled about the injury parade,** how cool is it to see kids we know from Sea Dogs and Spinners teams past playing for the big team? How awesome is it to look up and see Ryan Kalish on second base or Yamaico Navarro fielding a grounder? We admit it. We cheered for those guys harder than we cheered for almost anyone else. The kids, y'all. They're kind of all right.

Even Daisuke Matsusaka impressed us. Maybe we were still slightly tipsy, but he seems to be working faster and more authoritatively. Sure, he had that one inning where it seemed like everything was hit hard, but for most of the game he kept a really good hitting team off balance and off the basepaths. We approve of this guy. This guy didn't drive us back to the bar once.

Of course, this being our 2010 Red Sox, things weren't easy. As we all know, the game ended up tied through nine, and we had ourselves a little bonus baseball. We dashed to the ladies' after the home nine failed to score in the tenth, then set up in standing room behind home plate for the eleventh. (Papelbon works slowly enough that we really only missed one batter. True story.) A nearby usher started talking about the fact that he really thought Bard should've stayed in for another inning. Another guy looked like he was about to throw up. Someone in another section started the wave.

The wave. Top of the eleventh. Heart of the order up and a closer who had imploded the last time he faced this very opponent on the mound. What better time to stand up and down and lift your hands in the air like you just don't care? Not like there's anything happening in the game or--

--Jed Lowrie drops a routine pop-up in foul territory, and everyone in our section moans and grabs their hearts--

anything.

As we stood there, pounding our chests and hoping we'd remember to breathe at some point, Papelbon struck John Buck out. And suddenly the air seemed more oxygenated. We were going to be okay.

Plus: "now that Lowrie kid can redeem himself," someone said. "He has to."



8th INNING, SAME GUYS. RYAN KALISH HAS JUST JOGGED BACK TO SECOND AFTER AN ATTEMPTED STOLEN BASE.

GUY: "But I thought he stole third."
FRIEND: "Nah, man, he had to go back because the batter swung. You can't steal a base if the batter swings the bat."


If there's one thing we enjoy, it's the film Overboard, starring Goldie Hawn and--

Okay, strike that, if there's one thing we enjoy, it's watching Red Sox players embrace each other at home plate. If there's two things we enjoy, it's walking out of Fenway Park singing.

Overboard would make the top five, though.



*Look, we'd seen Friday's game. We figured hard liquor might be key to our enjoyment of Saturday's game.

**We blame Gary Bettman. As every hockey fan out there knows, there's pretty much nothing out there that you can't blame him for. In this case, though, we even have a reason. Bettman brought us the Winter Classic, the Winter Classic brought the Bruins to Fenway, the Bruins brought their broken-itis to Fenway, and the Red Sox all fell down.

Pessimism: it's what's for dinner!

In the grand tradition of the MLB Post-Season on Fox, we have compiled Seven Keys to the Game for the Bruins going into the pivotal game 7 that should've never come to pass:

1. Shoot the puck
2. Score goals
3. Don't let the Flyers score goals
4. Stop taking stupid penalties
5. Hit Mike Richards
6. Score even more goals
7. Don't let it go back to Fenway

Look, we may not always have had faith that the Bruins would make it to the playoffs, but now that they're here we want them to win this series.* And then we want them to beat the Habs. And the Sharkhawks. And we want that shiny, shiny Cup. We really don't think that's too much to ask.

Especially since the Red Sox are currently doing their upmost to make us cling to hockey season for as long as humanly possible, what with their losing and their getting hurt and their letting outfielders pitch because their pitchers can't and did we mention their getting swept by the Orioles. Sure, there have been bright moments: the midget's taken to wearing tall socks more frequently, which make him look even more like a member of the Lollipop Guild than he normally does, and Jonny Lester remembered how that whole pitching thing works. Tek's OPSing 1.287, which is just a crazy video game number. JD Drew still thinks his strike zone is superior to any umpire's. Oh, and we've decided to call Marco Scutaro Scoots McGoots. It's fun to say! You should try it!

We've also been busy coming up with our own advanced pitching metrics. There's the standard quality start, of course, but even better is the wicked quality (WQ) start: 7IP, 2 or fewer ER, less than 4 wild pitches and two hit batsmen. And the WTF start, which is what Dice-K did last night.** We're still working on the math part, but we're sure these are going to be a hit with the BP crowd!

We're hoping to get back into the whole blogging groove now that we're done with this season's mandatory period of going to ballgames with our mothers (no, really, that's what we've been doing since Blogapalooza***), but we're over making promises of that sort. We'll blog when we remember to, and then we'll forget for a while, and then we'll think that blogging is jinxy before we remember that it's not blogging that's a jinx. It'll be a long, crazy, 162-game ride.

Unless the Stanley Cup Playoffs kill us first.


*Jennifer's other NHL team, the Devils, already lost to this particular Flyers squad. She really does not want last year's "both my teams lost to the Hurricanes" fiasco to repeat itself this year. Especially since the Flyers, unlike the Hurricanes, are actually Evil.

**No, really, WTF? We were there, and we're still not sure that happened.

***Hello to those of you we met! We liked quite a few of your t-shirts and would like to subscribe to your newsletters!

By and by, we'll defy a little bit of gravity

A spy deep in the heart of Braves territory informs us that even the Atlanta TV announcers disapprove of the Fail!hat.* This is important because, well, we're not sure why it's important. Possibly because we hate the hats? And obviously they're very, very, very unlucky. Made of fail, as it were. When something is so bad that even the opposing team's announcers are commenting on it, it's time for a change. Hey, look, if they won't send skip Dice-K's next couple (dozen) starts, the least the Red Sox can do is give up on this alternate hat experiment. If not for us, then for the children.

Because, yes, Dice-K happened. It was just as horrifyingly painful as every other Dice-K start this season, and we dipped into the alcohol and chocolate portion of our evening slightly--okay, much--earlier than we'd planned. Chocolate is awesome. Alcohol is awesome. A Dice-K start? Is not awesome. His stuff just does not look good this year. Even last year, when he was walking everyone and their father's cousin's old college roommate, his stuff had a way of looking relatively filthy once he had those bases nice and loaded. This year, though, it all looks flat. Hittable. Tasty and delicious and right down the middle of the plate for anyone who wants to go deep. He needs some time on the sunny beaches of Bermuda.** He needs to stop insisting that he's healthy, so he can go on the DL and do another rehab stint.

Of course, it's not as if his offense his helping him any. Pretty much everyone on the team looked lifeless at the plate--even Jason Bay, whose 2-run homer was a thing of parabolic beauty, seemed listless in other at-bats--and we refuse to believe that the Braves pitching is that good. We expect everyone to take some extra cuts with Mag tomorrow morning; Derek Lowe's starting, and we do not want to see people grounding into double plays without anyone on base.***

We also expect Tek to give out the Super Secret D. Lowe Scouting Report, Port City Roosters loyalty be damned. We want to see some runs on the board. And since Lowe is actually blogging about how much he still loves the Red Sox, we're sure he wouldn't mind helping us out by leaving a sinker or two up in the zone.

Oh, and Beckett? You're gonna go out there and kick some Braves ass, right? Lie to us if you have to.


*TM Texy. (Don't call it a hat-tip!)

**Sponsored by the Boston Red Sox. Which is probably great for business, but forced us to get "Kokomo" stuck in our heads. And now it's in yours. Sorry!

***If any team could manage it, the team we've seen the last two nights could. MLB history, baby!

We're rewriting the lyrics to "If You Seek Amy" for Britsuzaka.

It has often been said that Daisuke Matsuzaka is an enigma wrapped in a mystery shrouded in secrecy and covered in delicious bacon-y goodness. This is not news. This is not even some sort of cunning insight. This is just a fact, stated plainly and clearly (and by two people who have yet to eat dinner). After yesterday's so-called "game," we started wondering what, exactly, our options are regarding our most frustrating starter. The answer we came to may surprise you: Daisuke's not the problem, we are.

No, really, think about it.

Keep thinking.

Okay, think some more.

You know how people keep joking that, hey, maybe if the Red Sox wore commemorative Team Japan jerseys Daisuke would think he was pitching in the WBC and actually get hitters out? Well, it turns out that idea didn't fly with ownership, so we're moving on to the next best thing. Something we, the fans, can control without pesky things like Tom Werner's approval or Jason Varitek's glove getting in our way.

The answer is clearly more cheerleading. But none of this half-hearted "Let's Go Red Sox" stuff that always ends up out of sync before the first set of claps; we're talking section leaders, we're talking songs, we're talking a full brass band and a drumline. All that stuff they kept telling us about during last year's ill-advised around the world road trip. Instead of Fenway Park, we want Daisuke to think he's at the Tokyo Dome (or, at the very least, Tokyo Disneyland). Of course, we'll also need some volunteers willing to risk expulsion from their swanky seats in order to drape a giant Japanese flag over the Green Monster, but that's what fandom's all about. It's about sacrifices.* And beer. Possibly crazy superstitious rituals involving chickens &/or lima beans, but that's another post altogether.

Just imagine it: a crowd full of people waving banners, singing songs, and cheering in unison. We'll even provide a visitor's section near the third base dugout, for authenticity's sake.** It'll be amazing. Daisuke won't know what hit him, and we'll finally get to see that legendary gyroball of his. He'll never give up another run at Fenway; in fact, he'll be so spectactular at home that people will begin traveling with the team, turning opposing parks into Fenway West and Fenway Midwest and Fenway Sou--

Oh, wait. Never mind.

So what say you, Red Sox fans? Care to volunteer the first cheer? The first song?



*In fact, as the ultimate sacrifice, we are willing to skip out on work and fly over to Japan to do some recon on what, exactly, it would take to give Daisuke's every start a properly authentic Japanese feel. If everyone donates $1.00, we'll have the cash to do it by the 2013 All-Star Break.

**And not at all because we kept getting confused by the really loud Mets fans we were surrounded with on Memorial Day weekend.

In lieu of a real post, a list of things about this comedy of errors we're calling the 2009 baseball season.

1. Can we just say right here and for the record how much we love a J. Mast?

2. Fair warning: it's Stanley Cup Playoff time, so when there's a conflict between the Red Sox and the Bruins, this is the time of year we pick the Bruins. This is probably a good thing, since the upcoming epic Bruins/Habs showdown is helping us remain calm and quasi-sane through the rough patch the Red Sox are currently stumbling through.

3. You know what we don't love? The WBC. Sure, we were originally on board, if only so we could watch some Cuban ballplayers we might not otherwise see, but we were wrong. So wrong. Mere words can't express how very wrong we were. The WBC is evil.

4. Unpopular opinion time: we don't think the 6 game suspension MLB imposed on Josh Beckett is all that unfair. We're not thrilled with it, obviously, and we dislike the fact that MLB pretty much discounted what the umpiring crew--who were actually there, by the way--determined. But, still, intentionally or not, that ball sailed up toward Abreu's head, and Beckett sure as hell didn't help himself any by charging off the mound to confront him.*

5. Also, hilariously, Dave Magadan claims he found part of the offense's problem, i.e. that they're not taking as many pitches and are getting themselves out. We say "hilariously" because, well, it seems like twelve billion bloggers figured that one out before our illustrious hitting coach.


*No, JB, that does not mean you need to hug it out or anything. Just, you know, maybe--oh, who the hell are we kidding? He'll do it exactly the same way next time, and that is, in part, why we love him.

Robots eat old people's medicine for fuel.

All week, we've been puzzling over Daisuke Matsuzaka's stellar six-inning, no-walk, fewer-than-1,000 pitch performance in the World Baseball Classic. We've studied the tape closely* and come to the obvious conclusion:

Daisuke has been replaced by a robot.

Okay, our theory raises more questions than it answers. Like, when did AI get so advanced? Was Dice-K himself the mastermind behind Dice-3PO? Was it another nefarious World Baseball Classic plot like the one that's caused freak injuries to half the players on the Team USA roster**? Where is the real Dice-K now--lying on a beach somewhere with his beautiful wife, or strapped to a training table in front of a Clockwork Orange-type infinite loop of game tape?

We may not have all the answers, but we're pretty sure we're right about the robot part. Because a version of Matsuzaka who doesn't walk a single soul and tosses efficient ten-pitch innings around like they're Icelandic money? That is definitely something out of the Uncanny Valley.

Meanwhile, we're more than ready for real games, but the Greening of the Sox is a fun substitute. We particularly enjoyed the presence of an "actual" "leprechaun." It wasn't funny in and of itself, but it allowed David Ortiz to bring his Pedroia mockery to a new level. And Papi's given us so much joy in this life that anything which makes him smile is worth closing elementary schools, holding a parade, and drinking vile green beer.

Haters, please note that Jason Varitek was 2-3 from the left side, with a well-thwacked home run into the bargain. For Dave Magadan's next trick, he'll drive the snakes out of New England.


*That is, we watched it when it aired live, and even spent some of that time looking at the screen.

**We're still rooting for Cuba, but if the US makes it, we are sure David Wright's smiling face will make us feel better.

We do not see by the dawn's early light in this house

3/25/08: Red Sox 6, A's 5

Fire it up! One down, one hundred and sixty-one to go.

Something we'd planned to say in our next ST post was how well Brandon Moss had been hitting in the preseason, and how he looked very confident and comfortable at the plate to us, and how we were very encouraged and wished good things for him.*

Well, fortunately (kinda?) today's game went on long enough for those who woke up wide-eyed at 5 a.m. and those who snored until a more humane 8:00 to all share in the action. And this morning, Brandon Moss justified our love. In fact, since there are already swarms of men and women worshipping Jacoby Ellsbury, and not without provocation, let us be among the first on the Moss bandwagon.**

Meanwhile, we musn't neglect Manny, who clearly announced his return to Being by punishing Oakland for thinking they could pitch around Papi. Foolish Oakland! Even on the rare occasion when Papi isn't hitting well, an intentional walk is just a red flag to the baby bull. Don't think the Mantra Yoga has mellowed him out so much he won't kick your ass.

As for today's pitchers, we have a few comments, starting with the final inning and working our way back:

1. J. Paps, don't scare us like that. It isn't funny.

2. In some kind of fundamental, justice-in-the-universe way, it felt really nice to see Keith Foulke throw a good inning, even if it was against us. We wonder if he's campaigning to take Huston Street's job away. That might go beyond cosmic balance and into Bizarro World.

3. Last night, Britney Spears tried to ease her way back into the working world with a cameo on How I Met Your Mother. Today, Daisuke Matsuzaka made his return appearance in Japan. Both have been described as "not totally awful, but awkward and unpolished and ultimately irrelevant."***

Coincidence? Or is Britsuzaka back again?

Hide the Sonic burgers, y'all.


*While simultaneously wishing good things for Coco, Jacoby, Bobby Kielty, and Sean Casey. If it were up to us, there really would be no end to our bench.

**We've been thinking that Jacoby fans should call themselves Ells' Belles. Which we suppose would make us Mossy's Posse. Oh, this could get ugly real fast.

***However, only one of them left us whimpering, "Find the damn glove already."

We do not drink Coors in this house

Thoughts We Thunk During Game 3 of the 2007 World Series:


1. The towel-twirling? Still pretty annoying. We've thought so whenever we've encountered them during this post-season--including the NLCS, which, in all honesty, we had no real opinions on other than a vague idea that late October baseball in Denver sounded cold*--so it's not just the Post-Cleveland Stress Syndrome talking here.

2. That Tulowitzki kid's a pretty damned fine shortstop, isn't he?**

3. Daisuke! With the hitting! We love to see an American League pitcher overcome his bafflement--"why is the ball coming at me?"--to give himslf run support. The fact that he wore his little jacket on the basepaths elevated it from fun to fabulous.

4. Were Caroline to design a Manny Delcarmen Band tour T-shirt, you'd all buy one, right?

5. John Farrell's been talking up Jason Varitek like crazy lately. In every interview we've seen/read/heard with him lately, he's all, "no, really, you can't overemphasize what he means to our pitching staff." We have concluded that this means that John Farrell is totally on board with our "Get Varitek as Pitching Coach When He Retires" plan. Viva!

6. Javier Lopez: still not a lefty specialist. Still not recording any outs. May still be good looking, but we were too busy hiding our eyes.

7. Dancing for Mike Timlin is a great source of cardiovascular exercise.

8. Yelling, "Catch that! Stop them! OMGWTF!" and smacking yourself repeatedly in the forehead also gets your heart rate up. As does yelling, "OH FUCK YOU FUCK YOU SO HARD, MATT HOLLIDAY!" when he hits a three-run homer (look, the combination of that and the towels and the no fucking outs might've lead to some crazy Cleveland flashbacks, okay?). These are obviously the sort of cardiovascular activities that lead directly into cardiac arrest, however, and they are not recommended by any primary care physician with a license.

9. Our rookies: let us show you them.

10. Mikey Lowell really did steal third there, right? I mean, we weren't hallucinating that or anything, were we?

11. Tim McCarver thinks Jason Varitek should be a sergeant major in the army. Or maybe he thinks Varitek is actually in the army. Silly McCarver. Everyone knows that Superman works alone.

12. No, really, our rookies. We want them to continue their little "anything you can hit, I can hit harder" game in the one-two spots for the remainder of the series and for years to come. They should also feel free to incorporate tap dancing.


*Nine out of ten Youks agree!

**Look, we know we've all said that about pretty much every opposing SS we've faced this season (with the exception of Jeter, who is, contrary to McCarver's belief, not a very good defensive SS), but in this particular case it's actually true, even though he could probably stand to cut down a bit on the Jeter Jump. That said, we give Lugo full props for some amazing defensive plays in this game.

We do not negotiate with headhunters in this house

9/6/07: Red Sox 7, Orioles 6
9/7/07: Red Sox 4, Orioles 0
9/8/07: Red Sox 5, Orioles 11
9/9/07: Red Sox 3, Orioles 2

Hey, Boston, we're officially done with the Os for the season! Everybody set your Kevin Millar phasers back to "gently stun."

Four notes on a four-game series:

1. One of these games is not like the others. One of these games just doesn't belong.

2. Seriously, not to dwell on the single loss, but Dice-K's performance was on par with Britney Spears' trainwreck on the MTV Video Music Awards tonight. Sure, we weren't expecting perfection, but we also weren't expecting a deer-in-the-headlights gaze, slow-motion movements, and the overall sense that the star of the show had abandoned all hope.*

Britsuzaka, get yourself to some kind of "wellness clinic." We're all pulling for you. We hear Bronson Arroyo is already arranging the benefit concert.

3. After being rattled by Toronto, the bullpen was lights out at Fenway South. With the exception of Tavvy (and seriously, they've gotta stop listening to him when he claims he can throw with a two-minute warning and a Red Bull--or else, hook the man up to a Red Bull I.V.)**, our bullpen band did not give up a single run in these four games. Even though we spend a lot of this space giving love to Paps and Oki and dancing for Mike Timlin,*** we sometimes take it for granted. It's nice to pay as much attention to their "routine" dominance as to their rare mistakes. It's nice to see question marks like Lopez and Snyder and bullpen newbie Buchholz shutting down everyone in their path, and even nicer to see Paps getting his save on with an efficient-yet-badass dozen pitches. Can they all win the Cy Young together and share custody?****

4. The bottom of our order stepped it up this series. The Man Papelbon Calls Cap'n came through twice in key late-inning situations, and today he even took a little extra time out for sexy defense; Coco Crisp had a homer, tall socks, and today's game-winning hit. Even J.D. Drew (not technically in the bottom third of our order, but let's not beat around the .383 SLG) contributed, with the bat and on the basepaths. We really want to be pulling for Slim J.D., at least until such time as we have the wherewithal to actually buy the team and start auctioning contracts off on eBay. This week he made our lives easier.

Of course, it's always easy to root for Tek. The hard part is watching him strike out and make a face like he'll never forgive himself, and unfortunately we had to see that a bunch this series.***** We hope he's taking comfort, post-Orioles, in what he did accomplish. And figuring out which of his gloves will best fit Britsuzaka's face.

You know. Tough love.


*They also did about the same amount of lip-synching.

**Someone should also tell Tavvy not to try and be the voice of reason in any sort of fight situation. Did you see him approach the mound to talk to crazed Daniel Cabrera? Did you, also, expect him to pull a shank from his sweatband? When he didn't, weren't we all the tiniest bit disappointed?

***Yes, it still works. Bam-a-lam!

****Can they also have a Grammy? Come on, whatever they were playing, it must be better than the award-winning "My Humps."

*****Blame the umpire, Tek! Mike Lowell totally has your back.

We do not wear our sunglasses at night in this house.

06/22/07: Red Sox 2, Padres 1

Dear Daisuke Matsuzaka,

We're onto you.

Some of us back here on the East Coast were pretty stressed out last night by your entrance. I mean, we may not be as well versed in the strategic intricacies of pitching as some folks, but--walking the bases loaded with nobody out in the first inning? We happen to know that's not good. Doubleplusungood, is what that is. It was giving us agita, and we're too young for agita. Plus, it's not even a real medical condition.

That was a long first inning, especially for a late game. Long enough for us to go from laughing at the Padres retro uniforms* to debating theoretical issues--Is multiple personality disorder contagious via air, and has Curt Schilling's bloviating transmitted it around our bullpen?--to flailing in outrage. Long enough for "Come on, Dice, you got him, baby" to give way to, "Look how frustrated Tek is! He's like, get Wakefield in there to pitch this bastard! It can't be any worse!"

Getting out of that with only one run** was a gift, as they say, a fluke. "Damn, we got lucky," we told one another at the end. "This is going to be a horrible night."

We're kind of sorry about all those things we said.

Because after that first ninety minutes or however long that inning was, we saw what you did. You found your control. You found the Captain's mitt, which you had apparently not noticed earlier in all the confusion. Sure, you got into a couple more jams, but held it together and got the big strikeouts--nine of them, and some of them were of the big, exciting K variety, the kind that make a pitcher look truly masterful. We couldn't really relax and enjoy it after three leadoff walks, but in retrospect, a fine performance.

You do this a lot, Daisuke. The one scary inning, surrounded by dominance.

It can't be an accident. It can't be a coincidence.

Okay, it totally could be, but we suspect that instead, this is your strategy. You have an agenda here, don't you? You're creating a false sense of security for your opponents***. An illusion of fatal vulnerability. It works so well that even Tek and John Farrell are worrying their pretty heads about you. You're a terrifyingly inconsistent pitcher in those single innings...in the same way that Bruce Wayne is an airheaded playboy dilletante. And you're putting us through all this drama just for the climactic moment when you rip off the mask, reveal your true powers, steel up and shut your opponents the hell down.

Daisuke, Dice-K, darling...

Are you Batman?

We promise we won't tell.


* HA. HA. HA.



See the bands of orange and gold, so bright they caused NESN to melt down into a puddle of technical difficulties? With the weird font on the front that's less baseball and more Kirby's Adventure? Have you ever dropped acid to celebrate Thanksgiving? We think we have, now.

**That one run was batted in by new acquisition Michael Barrett, forever known in this house as "The dude who coldcocked AJ Pierzynski." We admit, we are vaguely hoping he'll see fit to lay a beatdown on one of his own teammates during this series. Or attempt one against a Red Sox pitcher and see how fast Tek takes him down.

***This theory would also explain why we keep avoiding letting him pitch against the Yankees. Element of surprise!