Surviving Grady

A Brief Reminder That a Vote for Youk and Pedroia Is Like a Vote for America. Times Two. Or Something Like That.

2009-07-02T11:13:00.005-04:00

See that video up there? I'm not posting it because I like this horsecrap music. I'm posting it as an all points bulletin to you, esteemed members of SG Nation. Today is the final day of voting for the 2009 All Star Game, which means it's the last day to get Youkbacca and Pedroia the starting gigs they so richly deserve.

Still confused as to the right thing to do? Let's look at the numbers. The Elf leads Ian Kinsler in the critical categories of batting average (.291 vs. .263), hits and OBP. Okay, Kinsler has almost 10 times as many home runs as Young Dustin, but let's look at some other variables. First, which name's gonna sound cooler rattling through the loud speakers when the starting line-up is announced: "Dustin" or "Ian"? Christ, this isn't a cricket match, people; you've gotta swing with Dustin. Second, does Kinsler have one of these:

As I see it, you've got your own puppet, you're in the f@#king All Star Game. End of story.

Moving on, Tex may have 6 more home runs than Youk, but the Bearded One holds a slight edge in batting average (.314 vs. .278), OBP and slugging percentage.

But more importantly, when it comes right down to it, which of these guys do you want representing your American League at first base:

It really isn't any kind of choice at all, is it? Do the right thing, America. Vote Youkilis and Pedroia.

The Surviving Grady Instant Eye Test

2009-07-02T04:45:00.001-04:00

Check the photo above. If you eyes can clearly make out Jim Ed Rice in a dazzling, Ronald Isley-inspired pinstripe number, your eyes are perfectly fine.

If not, you should probably get them checked or something.

ALSO! Part of the fun of doing those goofy-ass "cartoon" posts I love so much is how the links to the player mugshots change as they move between teams. Case in point.

I, Wanker

2009-07-01T21:36:00.000-04:00

I did it again, folks. I gave up on the Sox. Wrote them off when all looked grim, convinced we were on the cusp of getting taken to the woodshed for the second day in a row by a team with guys named Aubrey, Ty, Felix and Gregg with two Gs.

But the Sox battled back, perhaps every bit as sick with their performance the night before as I was. And they turned what looked like a lost cause into one of those life-affirming wins that gets me thinking about how good we have it over those suckers living in Russia. And suddenly, I felt bad for ever doubting them. For even allowing myself to doubt them after the majesty of 2004. And a small part of me wanted to drive to Baltimore and go all Lloyd Dobler on the Orioles' asses, cranking New Order's "Blue Monday" and looping the line that asks, "How does it feel?"

I must say it was cool to see Rhody's own Rocco Baldelli deliver the big hit in the ninth to tie things up. Later on, I promised the Gods of Baseball that if they'd allow Julio Lugo to knock in the go-ahead run in the top of the eleventh, I would never take the guy's name in vain again. And it happened, and the Sox were able to bounce back from an excruciating loss with a come-from-behind victory of their own. So Lugo gets the pass for the rest of the season in my book. The Gods of Baseball have spoken!

Something to Believe In

2009-07-01T12:29:00.000-04:00

I'll make this brief: After a crushing, sledgehammer-to-the-onions loss like last night's, there's no one -- no one -- I'd rather see on the mound today to make the pain go away than Commander Kick Ass himself.

Have at them, Sir Josh. Make it so.

Once Again, We Look To The Commander

2009-07-01T12:19:00.002-04:00

Today's performance will be epic. We are not just looking for a stopper, we are looking for a mind eraser. Something very special coming today, mark my words.

The Surviving Grady Cure for Sanity

2009-07-01T07:05:00.008-04:00

Apparently, sometime after the rain delay of last night's game, Tito decided to give the lads a rest and replaced the entire team -- particularly the bullpen -- with robot doppelgangers. This was evident the moment the Sox headed off the field with only two outs in the bottom of the sixth; robots, despite their advanced computer brains, are notoriously bad at counting outs. And because robot players are also inherently lazy and nonchalant, within what seemed the blink of an eye, our comfy 10-1 lead became an 11-10 kick to the pills. So what should have been a chapter for the John Smoltz memory books became a first-night-in-prison hazing for our relief corps.

As always, the Papel-Bot put it best in today's Globe: “We pretty much imploded. I can’t think of any better word to use. It’s just what happened."

Watching this lunacy unfold on my TV set, my first thought was I needed to punch out a nun. But after a few cherry Hostess Fruit Pies and a big glass o' milk, I came to my senses. This isn't the first time we've let a sure thing slip from our digits, and it won't be the last. So rather than dwell on it, point fingers or gather up a pack of volunteers to hit the Tobin, I'm just gonna wallow in the goodness of these photos of Heidi, Amalie and the world's luckiest chair, sent to us from reader Colin Burke.

Want more diversions? Here's a clip from opening night of U2's 360 Tour in Barcelona, featuring one of the band's most underrated cuts, "Ultraviolet." I'll be at the second Gillette Stadium show in September, and promise a free beer to anyone who comes up to me in one of our T-shirts. Then you can feel free to mug me.

Okay, doesn't that feel better?

Goodbye, Smilin' Eric and Good Luck, Smoltzie

2009-06-30T18:42:00.009-04:00

Going to the Yankees is like pledging allegiance to the Nazis, the Cylons and the Sinister Six. Once you go there, I can't let you back in the good graces, no matter how many roast beef sandwiches or Leighton Meester photos you send me. So it is with great regret that I discovered Smilin' Eric Hinske had gone pinstripes on us. I know it ain't the guy's fault, being traded and all. And I'm sure he's got kids to feed and bills to pay and bar tabs that ain't gonna take care of themselves. But I gotta pull him off the Hanukkah card list on principle alone.

Although he was more famous for that bad-ass faceplant catch than anything he did with his bat while he was with the Sox, I dug Hinske, simply because he looked like the ultimate teammate. Always laughing, always bullshitting, always ready to pigpile for a walk-off or work the top step to cheer on the batter. Although 2007 was a happy time for all of us, Hinske looked like he had a rager for every waking second of every game, with that ear-to-ear grin perpetually plastered on his mug--at least when he wasn't sucking down post-clinching game brewskis and cigars. But now that he's in the Bronx, even though it was through a trade, he might as well have been sucked into The Negative Zone for all I care. I'm sorry Eric, but that's just how it's got to be.

Closer to Earth, tonight John Smoltz will try once again for his first AL win. Won't you help us root him on in our comments section game thread? Excellent.

Tales From The Grassy Knoll

2009-06-30T12:31:00.001-04:00

Let me say this first: I'm a huge Papelbon fan and I'm thrilled he will be the most prolific closer the Sox have had. But...

Last night's save seemed a bit contrived. The Sox had the game firmly in the "W" column with two outs in the ninth. The O's get their just sixth hit of the night against Red Sox pitching and suddenly Papelbon is up and warming. The next batter reaches on a walk, and the closer is brought in to a 4-0 game, against the hapless Orioles, to face the .235-hitting Matt Wieters? That's really bringin' the cheese.

If not for a great sliding catch by Jason Bay, the shutout might have been blown and Papelbon may have had to throw a lot more pitches than necessary. All for the sake of a save that he was going to pick up soon enough anyway?

Call me crazy, but when they "baby" Papelbon the way they do (very rarely pitching more than an inning, not being available after pitching two consecutive days), his appearance last night seemed a bit frivolous.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

2009-06-30T00:03:00.000-04:00

Snapshots of me come in three flavors: goofy, deranged and retarded. The last photo taken of me in which I looked somewhat human was my fifth grade school portrait. That's kinda why I dig me some Jonathan Papelbon. I've never seen a photo of the guy in which he doesn't look like he's either drunk, hungover or trying to convince some unsuspecting college girls to help him load a sofa into the back of a van. But watching him go apeshit and pump his fists after every save has become an essential component of The Red Sox Experience. And last night he did it for the 132nd time, tying Bob Stanley for the team record. Which means that unless Pap wakes up tomorrow to find that his arms have been eaten by zombies, he should be taking over the top spot before week's end, sloppy grin and all.

That wasn't the only piece of awesome tucked into last night's game, which was surprisingly entertaining for match-up against the division's cupcakes. Jay Bay helped secure Pap's save with a brilliant diving grab of the final out. Jon Lester gave up no runs and struck out 8 over 7 innings with some absolutely filthy stuff. Drew got three hits at the top of the order, including a home run, triple and single. And the Captain himself got a couple hits as well.

The only dark cloud on the horizon is the Mike Lowell situation. The guy's getting his hips pumped full off vodka to help ease the pain, and he'll be far from reliable for the balance of the season. Meanwhile, the Yanks and Rays keep winning, reminding us that this division will likely be a three-horse race by the time August rolls around. We're gonna need some production if Lowell goes tits-up, so what's it gonna be? We've got plenty of chips to play, so it will be interesting to see what Theo's got up his sleeve in the coming weeks.

The American League East Food Chain, Starring the Boston Red Sox and Baltimore Orioles

2009-06-29T18:54:00.003-04:00

Interleague play is like a Jason Mraz concert your girlfriend drags you to; as soon as it starts, you eagerly await its ending. And now that it's finally over for the balance of the regular season, we can turn our attention to other matters. Like, for instance, the teams in our own bloody division. Tonight, it's the penthouse versus the outhouse as the Sox take on the Orioles at scenic Camden Yards. And as much as we like to preach about how you've got to respect every team, no matter their record, these are the guys we need to be mashing to a fine paste. So let's hope that even as I type this, Francona is leading Ortiz around the clubhouse with a Brian Roberts uniform dipped in beef gravy. Just to set the mood, as they say.

Terry Francona: Powered by Caffeine, Bacon and Awesome

2009-06-29T10:20:00.001-04:00

As if there was any doubt in my mind that Terry Francona is the Greatest Red Sox Manager Ever, this quote from today's Globe cements it:

Francona, on his pregame meal: “This morning I’m working on four pieces of bacon and a Full Throttle. I hope Penny throws strikes."

The next time I see the guy shaking in the corner of the dugout, I'll know why.

Please Put Gagne in its Proper Place

2009-06-29T07:47:00.002-04:00

As seen over the trash can at The Baseball Shop in glorious Orleans, Mass. A magical place where you can get your full baseball card nerd on while watching the Sox game in ass-kicking HD. And let me tell you this: Ain't nothing like spending a lazy Sunday pouring through a stack of old Mo Vaughn Fleer cards while Heidi's sweet, sweet voice rains down from the overhead speakers.

Kickin' It Old School

2009-06-28T01:07:00.001-04:00

Tim Wakefield became just the third 10-game winner in the American League yesterday, shutting out the Braves for six innings in sweltering Atlanta. It was 95 degrees at first pitch but that didn't stop the knuckler from knuckling. And Wake did do it old school, allowing just three hits and a walk the way...you know...those guys used to do it a long time ago. Old school. Mark Kotsay's 6th-inning RBI single was enough to get Wake his 10th win.

Yesterday's game was also Wake's 382nd start in a Red Sox uniform, tying him with Roger Clemens for the honor of most career starts in Boston. And what next for the aging pitcher - will his first-half performance be enough to get him his first trip to the All Star Game? Seriously, there wouldn't be a better story in the 2009 season than that. Wakefield is a class act in a game rife with cheaters and dirtbags.

And let's not forget our simple math: ten wins before July gives him a good shot at a 20-win season. Wakefield's career high is 17 wins, a feat he accomplished in 1998 and again in 2007. A lot of people (me included) scoffed at Red for voting Wakefield the face of the Boston Red Sox on ESPN, but he might not have been as drunk as we thought when he wrote that.

Wakefield Goes For Win Number Ten and Other Things You Never Thought You'd Be Saying in June

2009-06-27T14:33:00.000-04:00

I have to admit: The giddy feeling I used to get before every Pedro Martinez start? I get that now whenever Timmy Wakefield takes the hill. Yes, I know there's nothing more infuriating than those games in which the knuckler won't knuckle, and ol'Timmeh's pissed away 12 runs by the second inning. But this year, those lost causes have been few and far between. On the cusp of his tenth win -- putting him on pace for, dare we think it, a possible twenty-win season -- Wakefield is suddenly at the top of his game, turning batters into smacked asses with every twist of that goddam flutterball. Like fine wine, scotch and Heather Locklear, Wake seems to be getting increasingly awesome with each passing year. And I can't think of a player more genuinely worthy of our support.

Won't you join me, then, to cheer on The Waker in our comments section game thread.

Thank you.

Josh Beckett Doesn't Give a Damn What His Stomach Says, He Came to Party

2009-06-27T09:17:00.005-04:00

First of all, to respond to the previous post, I can assume, Denton, that you only watched the first inning? Because the Smoltz I saw from innings two through five had a remarkably low suck factor.

Of course, he's no Commander Kick Ass. In fact, earlier this season, Commander Kick Ass himself was no Commander Kick Ass. But Beckett is clearly back in the groove. And last night, even as his stomach churned with what was likely Schlitz-induced intestinal distress, the Snarlin' Marlin notched his sixth win in his last seven starts against the Braves, striking out six while, we can only assume, running to the can and bitch-slapping a Dale Murphy mannequin bewteen innings.

Meanwhile, the David Ortiz Sweet Revenge Tour rolled on, with Papi swatting another home run and getting me all dizzy with thoughts of just how spectacular this summer will be when he's locked in full "decimate" mode. Hey, better to purge all the suck from your system in April and May than unleash it during those thick September nights when we clasp hands around the campfire and pray for a late-inning miracle.

This is what the best record in the American League tastes like, people. Savor it.

Smoltz Who?

2009-06-26T16:08:00.002-04:00

I'm glad that's over. The Smoltz hype around here was like having our own little Brett Favre drama. He pitched, he sucked, let's move on.

Tonight is Beckett time. Last trip to the mound he tossed a complete-game, five-hitter against the Braves. And, oh look, he's facing the Braves again. This time it's in steamy Hotlanta as Beckett goes for win number nine.

Stay tuned this weekend as Red take an in-depth look at the life of Michael Jackson. Or not.

Smoltzie Say Relax

2009-06-26T07:10:00.005-04:00

As the great '80s band Go West sang, "first night stage fright always hypnotizes." While it's not nearly as deep or profound as LMFAO's "I've gotta plan, what's your cell, we playing naked Twister back in my hotel," I feel it neatly encapsulates John Smoltz' first outing for the Boston Red Sox.

Since he signed with us, he's been touted as the next big reclamation project. A guy who's been to Octobertown and knows how to act when a pennant's on the line. A guy who's had every minor league start over the past few weeks broken down and analyzed like election night results. So I'll give him the mulligan for that jittery first inning last night, in which he gave up four runs and looked exactly like a guy coming off the disabled list three months into the season. Of course, he did manage to plunk ex-Yankee Nick Johnson, so we certainly can't call that first inning a complete failure.

That said, the guy I'm more impressed with is the guy who showed up for the second through fifth innings--especially his last inning of work in which he struck out the side, and looked a lot more like "Classic Smoltz." I'm betting that's the guy we see more of from this point forward. And so is Smoltz.

“There’s been so much going on in the last eight days, I’m kind of glad it’s over so I can resume the five-day rotation and do what every pitcher does,” Smoltz said, “and that’s make improvements from game to game. Within a few starts, I’ll be honed in to where I want to be.”

Word.

Smoltztastic

2009-06-25T16:28:00.000-04:00

In the summer of 1986, the Sox signed Tom Seaver. The guy didn’t have much in the tank at that stage, and we already had young Roger Clemens mowing down batters like his name was John Deere, but it was Tom F@#king Seaver—a living legend, Mr. Mets himself—on the Boston Red Sox! And that was enough to add yet another bit of magic to that fateful season.

I vaguely remember watching The Seev’s first game in a Sox uni, and the bizarre yet warm feeling it gave me, like the first time I saw Ms. Natalie, the 26 year-old gym teacher at my school, doing jumping jacks.

John Smoltz ain’t no Tom Seaver, but he’s certainly one of the more iconic players of our time. An eight-time All Star, Cy Young winner, World Series champion and only the second player since our own D-Eck to score both a 50-save and 20-win season—achievements that help us overlook the fact that the guy is also an admitted friend of Jeff Foxworthy. And as his first start for the Red Sox draws closer, I’m giddy with the same sort of anticipation I haven’t felt since the Seaver Experiment.

I can’t bloody wait for the first pitch. And I’m sure you can’t either.

Help Send Youkbacca to Camp This Summer

2009-06-25T11:26:00.000-04:00

Why, yes, I am a homer in the finest sense of the word. And I have no problem with begging everyone to do the right thing and vote Youk for the 2009 All Star Game. As I see it, getting the Walking Pelt the starter's gig at first base over Mark Teixeira would be yet another arrow in the bloated carcass of the 2009 Yankees. How can we, as Americans, pass this up? You can vote right here.

And if you're waffling, let me just ask you this: Do you really want this guy representing your league at first base in the All Star Game?

I didn't think so.

I Can Barely Recall, But It's All Coming Back to Me Now

2009-06-25T06:45:00.004-04:00

Yeah, you're damn right I'm quoting Celine Dion*. And I just don't care. Suddenly, Papi is Papi again, swatting home runs, pulling up his team by the bootstraps and stomping like Godzilla, and I couldn't be happier. Sure, the guy's still hitting a lackluster .219 on the season, but, as today's Globe points out, he's got a .357 average since June 6 and is starting to deliver those "Papi moments" with alarming regularity. More importantly, his three-run jack last during last night's game against the Nationals helped put us on top for good.

Meanwhile, the Sox barely missed a Spinal Tap-like tragedy in the second when Elijah Dukes went all vampire hunter, shattering his bat on a ground ball and sending a wooden stake (in the form of the sharp-ass bat head) flying out toward Nick Green, who came thisclose to getting speared. The replays of Green jerking his body away from the bat, saving his noggin by deflecting it with his forearm, looked like something out of a Sam Raimi film, while NESN's shot of the bat head stuck in the outfield grass like a goddam spear was positively unsettling. For years, I'd been secretly hoping that something like that would happen to Deryck Whibley during a Sum 41 "concert." But after seeing how close Green came to disaster, man, I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

So the Sox have won 16 of their last 21, still five games up on the Yanks, with some old dude pitching for us tonight. Used to be a Brave, apparently. I'll look into this a bit more and get back to you.

*Actually, so we can all feel better about this, let's just say that I was quoting the Meat Loaf version of that song.

Pale is the New Awesome

2009-06-23T22:26:00.002-04:00

This one really had it all: a home run by Jay Pale, two triples from Ellsbury, a 3-for-6 showing from the Elf at the top of the line-up, and 5.2 innings of respectable pill tossing from Brad Penny. Hell, we even got to witness a little Jools Tavarez action when the Nationals brought everyone's favorite noggin-rubber into the game in the seventh. When the dust cleared, the Sox had whipped the Nats, 11-3, to take a commanding five game lead in the AL East. For those of you paying attention, Wang is now 0-6 with an 11.20 ERA for the Yanks. Meanwhile, we've got none other than John Smoltz set to debut for us Thursday night, and Clay Buchholz waiting in the wings at Pawtucket. Heh.

The only bummer on the night was the unwelcome sight of uber-boob John Kerry in the NESN broadcast booth. Honestly, NESN folks, if John Kerry has to show up during game time it should only be to ask Dave Roberts what kind of sandwich he wants, and then to fetch it instantly. After all, Mr. Roberts accomplished more for the citizens of Massachusetts in ten seconds than Kerry's done in 26 years. And that's the double truth, Ruth.

I Don't Give a Damn 'bout My Brad Reputation

2009-06-23T19:03:00.002-04:00

Brad Penny came here under scrutiny as a guy who might not be able to deliver and he's been the subject of tradebait talk for weeks now. But alls I know is this: if he can pull off another win tonight against the Nationals after two solid starts against the Yanks and Marlins, Penny will officially pass Brad Hamilton on my list of "Cool Brads."

And that's really what it's all about, isn't it?

The Eck's Files

2009-06-23T10:29:00.001-04:00

Red Sox Nation has suffered injuries and substitute players every season. Sometimes, the fill-in player rises to the occasion and out-performs the person he is in for. Not the case in the broadcast booth. While some have begun "warming up" to Eck sitting in for Remy, I count the days until the Dawg returns.

For me, Eckersley is a dish best served in small doses. His post-game analysis was always entertaining and generally accurate but his color commentary borders on Madden-like. He tends to grab a catch phrase and beat it into submission. He started with "cheese" and "right down Broadway" and has expanded his arsenal to "the hook" and "he knew what to do with that."

Eck also has a tendency to put everything in terms of "when he played." The world has moved on since Eck pitched, even if his haircut hasn't. My last criticism of Eck is he sometimes speaks a bit too lustily about certain pitches. "That was a nice, tight breaking ball" comes out sounding a little too much like the guy at the schoolyard asking kids to help him find his puppy.

Get well soon, RemDawg.

Lowe Gets the Love

2009-06-22T08:25:00.001-04:00

Yesterday's win was nothing on par with the Lazarus act that defined the Mother's Day Miracle. But Nick Green's first-pitch-swinging shot around Pesky's Pole--which gave the Sox the rubber game of the Atlanta series in the blink of an eye--was the perfect complement to all the neckties and Stetson being doled out on Father's Day.

Still, my favorite memory from this past weekend's series was the standing O for D-Lowe in his first pitching engagement at Fenway since 2004. And why would we expect anything less for a returning hero from The Greatest Season Ever (at least one who doesn't show up in pinstripes).

In case you missed Lowe's grand re-entrance, or were spending quality time with your parole officer during the game, here it is:

It's interesting how in that clip, Lowe almost doesn't know how to react, making an awkward motion to take off his cap, then stopping. But I can't imagine that he'd think he wouldn't get a standing O from the Fenway Faithful.

Happy Father's Day

2009-06-21T08:34:00.001-04:00

My dad took me to my first Sox game when I was eight years old. He bought me a hot dog, a Coke, and a Jim Rice pin. He showed me where he used to sit when he'd wander over after classes at Northeastern. He pointed out Pesky's Pole and the Green Monster and where he'd seen Carl Yastrzemski make one of the most amazing catches he'd seen in his life. And he kept score in the scorecard because that's what Dad always did. And I've still got the goddam thing in my closet, Dad's pencil etchings and all.

Over the years, we probably took in a hundred games together. Because that was the constant. The stability. The thing that kept me sane. I got older, got a job, a mortgage, kids of my own, booze-induced ulcers and let's not forget that brief stint in the French Foreign Legion. But every time I met Dad at Fenway, for three glorious hours, I was that wide-eyed, eight year old dink again. And when he got sick, when we knew there wasn't a lot of time left, each game became a precious form of escape for us. No needles, no doctors, no unsettling hum and whir of electric monitors. It was just the two of us, at the ballgame, talking Red Sox. Just like it always was.

This'll be my fourth Father's Day without the Old Man around. But, somehow, I know he's still watching. Pumping his fist every time Beckett mows 'em down. Nodding with quiet approval when Wakefield comes up huge. And telling everyone around him how he used to watch Manny Delcarmen back in the West Roxbury High days.

Today, in Dad's honor, I'm gonna spend Father's Day exactly the same way he would have: watching the Red Sox. And keeping score.

My best to all the Dads out there in SG land.