Sox Offenders

Sox Offenders
by Red & Denton

Good afternoon. We are Red and Denton, and we are Red Sox fans. No, don’t get up. We’ll let ourselves in. Thanks.

Okay. What we’d like to do is simply offer our meager thoughts on the past couple weeks of Red Sox action. If you’re a Red Sox fan, you know that a couple weeks can feel like a lifetime. It’s not that long ago that we were basking in the glow of a rather respectable August. Sure, there was always the fear that David Wells would disappear on a three-week tequila bender or Mike Timlin would be injured in a bizarre meat smoking incident. But for the most part, the boys kept it together quite nicely, winning eighteen games and getting us all hot and bothered for another World Series run. Hell, during the last week of that month, I remember looking ahead to the next series in the Bronx as an opportunity to give the Yanks “the Chelsea Special” [as my Uncle Nate would say] and put the AL East race to bed so we could focus on more important things. Like setting the playoff rotation. Or finishing off our proposal for “Hazel Mae watches the entire game from your lap” night at Fenway.

But then September happened. Always a cruel mistress, that month where boot meets balls and you realize nothing comes easy, particularly where the Sox are concerned. So even as Papi was slapping an S on his chest and tooling up on opposing pitchers, guys like Varitek and Mueller started struggling at the plate, while Edgar’s fielding grew progressively worse.

Now our lead in the East has been shaved wafer thin [by the time you read this, in fact, it may have disappeared altogether] and we find ourselves clinging tenaciously to the hope of making the playoffs at all. But, truth be told, the first couple weeks of September were hardly a total wash for the Sox. Among the things we can clap our hands for:

Ortizzle: Yeah, I want to slap everyone who calls him Ortizzle as well, but he’s become so goddam important to this team that I feel it appropriate to take every opportunity to add more letters to his name. He’s the guy you want up in any situation in which you need a miracle, end of story. During the 2004 playoffs, he was like that big fucking dog in The Neverending Story who let people flop on his back as he flew them to crazy and exotic lands [work with me, people], and if Grady hadn’t screwed up the 2003 ALCS, Ortiz’ home run off Wells would have been the exclamation point in one of the most exciting wins in team history. His badness of ass is unquestionable, his hugeness of heart is remarkable, and his respect for the game and its fans in this era of Barry Bonds is admirable. Also, if he gets injured next week, we’re fucked.

The Starting Pitching: How is it that David Wells, a guy who has nougat running through his veins, has been a gamer down the stretch, while Gabe Kapler -- seemingly carved from marble and one of the few Sox players besides Trot Nixon that you’d want on your team in a barfight – has come up lame for the season? Not sure, but I do know that the Sox’ starting rotation has come into its own over the last few weeks, eating up innings, keeping games close and, most importantly, restricting use of our ridiculously abhorrent bullpen to the absolute minimum. Wakefield, in particular, has been nails. And even though the knuckle ball frightens me more than the thought of a pants-less Nathan Lane chasing me around a Back Bay condo, it has proven incredibly effective of late. There’s a lot of “ifs” here: If Schilling can get back to 2004 form, if Wells can be the postseason beast he was with New York, if Clement will ever shave off that fucking reprehensible facial hair and shake off his recent shelling at the hands of the A’s… then we might have a crack at another World Series appearance. Two years in row. Cue explosion of Earth.

Johnny Damon: At the start of the season, we pegged Damon to be 2005’s biggest disappointment. Too many book signings, TV appearances, commercials and rock star antics to be able to contribute. Man, were we wrong. Though the AL batting title seems a long shot, Damon’s become one of the single most important cogs in the Sox machine down the stretch, and his health and bat are critical to our postseason aspirations. Hell, the very fact that the guy can even focus on a game knowing that the spectacular piece of arse that is Michelle Damon is waiting for him at home is amazing to me. Oh, and speaking of Michelle, by assigning Mrs. Damon to the plum role of style commentator for the pre-Game Show, the folks at NESN have immediately won my vote for “Best Goddam TV Executives on Earth” [closely followed by the people behind every show on Univision].

The past few weeks haven’t been all sunshine, however. Consider these heart-attack inducing elements:

Tek and the Invisible Bat: Edgar can’t even see the fucking Mendoza line from his September spot hitting .169. Trot “he’s a gamer, he’s a dirt dog” is at a lofty .184, but nobody’s killing us at the plate like Jason Varitek. Captain Tek is an invisible .122 for the month with 16 Ks in 49 at-bats. Zero – wait, let me recount…yup - ZERO homeruns and one stinkin’ double. And the worst part is his weakness for the high fastball with two strikes on him. Everybody knows it’s coming, Christ, he must know its coming. But he just can’t lay off. It’s his heroin, I guess. We need you back, Captain.

Edgah: Remember Theo kicking “the face of the Red Sox” Nomar to the curb last summer to shore up middle-infield defense? Remember how giddy it made us when OC started flashing his leather and working the funky handshake magic? Those days are gone. Renteria may turn into Theo’s “shark jumping episode.” Edgah leads all of baseball in errors, and that doesn’t even tell the whole story. He’s been saved by some great scoops at first on errant throws. Oh, and you can’t assume a double-play, so he doesn’t get charged when he fucks those up. And how about a couple nights ago against Oakland: a pop-up that barely gets past the infield dirt that Damon ends up dropping. Why was Damon fielding a ball that far in? Simple -- Edgar was circling around like a broken top and Damon was trying to save his ass. Let the September of Alex Cora begin!

Selling Fenway Park sod for $150 a chunk. Ok, this is grass, right? Not the “smoke it if you got it” grass, just regular grass.. And dirt. What the fuck would you do with it? Replant it and build a miniature replica of Fenway Park in the corner of your yard? Cordon it off and give tours? And how do you even prove it is Fenway grass? Sorry, I’m all for memorabilia and for the organization to generate revenue, but this is weak. I’d rather rock my throw-back Dom Dimaggio uni and parade around Harlem.

Radio Daze: The radio team of Joe and Jerry needs a little heart-punch to get them going. Castiglione seems to be going the way of Ned Martin; he’s calling players by the wrong names, and when the Sox fail to get the big hit, or give up the big hit, he sounds like he’s in full end-of-Brian’s-Song tears. Worse is Trupiano. He’s apparently decided to make it his full time gig to come up with things that rhyme with players’ names and other such inane puns. It’s like listening to Barney the fucking Dinosaur call the game. Maybe I’ve just been in the car too much and getting too big a dose of these guys? But you be the judge, here are a couple of gems from the past weeks.

“If Gabe Kapler and Gabe Gross go into Toys ‘R’ Us together, it would be Gabes in Toyland”

“Jason Kendall hit a wind-blown homerun in his last at-bat. Would you say it was a Kendall in the Wind?”

The urge to drive into the nearest telephone pole is becoming too hard to resist. I’ve got to get to a TV and get a fix of Remy and DO.

Kevin Millar giving a one day “hitting and hydration” clinic: Yeah, my kid is hitting too good and can’t handle his shots of JD; I’d better send him to this.

Loss of the Hebrew Hammer: The Gabe Kapler injury was, in the context of baseball, tragic. With the current state of the outfield; Manny being, well…Manny, Damon playing through multiple injuries and Trot not hitting lefties or righties, Gabe was an important part of this club. This is magnified by the team having no other seasoned outfielders (Thanks, Jay Payton!). Just when we needed it the most, much-maligned Kevin Millar has been stepping up big.

Next time: Preparing for the playoffs: A Handy Guide.

Red & Denton can be found talking nonsense about the Sox at www.survivinggrady.com. They are also the authors of the book Surviving Grady: A Diary of Unhealthy Red Sox Obsession During the Greatest Season Ever.