SOX OFFENDERS

By Red & Denton

In our last article in the last issue of this here magazine, I proudly announced to the world that it was a good thing that the Boston Red Sox would be facing the Chicago White Sox in the ALDS. Hell, I went on to say that it was a far, far better thing than facing the Anaheim Angels, as our superior hitting could certainly solve Chicago’s pitching staff. No brainer, I said. Call me when it’s over and save me a place in line for ALCS tickets.

Well, as you can see, I know nothing. The Red Sox were outslugged, outmaneuvered, outclassed and outquaffed in a series that was as mercifully brief as it was thorns-around-the-plums painful. Painful because we know our boys were better than that showing – a straight-up beat-down eerily reminiscent of those late ‘80s/early ‘90s playoff drubbings at the hands of the Oakland A’s.

Yet, as much as I wanna head down to the local, get my drink on, and go kick a priest in the jimmy, I simply cannot. In the wake of the majesty that was 2004, I can’t summon the anger that typically defined the end of the Red Sox’ season for me. Perhaps I never will again.

But for now, what I’d like to do is point out some of the things that helped and hurt the Olde Town Team as they barreled through 2005.

Johnny Damon: With his book, TV appearances, canoodling with fantastically-titted actresses, high teas and secret meetings with Kissinger, I penciled Damon in to be 2005’s biggest disappointment. Again, I know nothing. You see, money is a true motivating force, and on the precipice of a free-agent year in which he stands to make a boatload of it, Johnny put up the numbers. At times, it was almost ridiculous how much he was hitting – a veritable on-base machine, setting the table for the big guns and always doing something to make us overlook the fact that the dude who played the adoptive father on “Diffr’nt Strokes” has better arm than him. If anything, the guy became even more endearing to the local masses throughout 2005, establishing himself as a true gamer and an honest-to-Lobel cult hero. Sadly, most of these good vibes will likely melt away this offseason, when Johnny will be courted by everyone from George Steinbrenner to Aaron Spelling. Will he be with us in 2006? I’m not among those who think so, but I will say that losing Johnny would be secondary to the tragedy that would be losing Mrs. Damon. Think about it, John Henry. Think about it.

David Ortiz: There’s really nothing more that can be said about Big Papi other than I’m thankful the guy finds free time between battling Lex Luthor and keeping Communism in check to keep swatting critical, game-winning home runs for us.

Keith Foulke: Has anyone made the swing from hero to cretin faster than Foulke? One minute, the guy’s mowing down Yankees and Cardinals and jumping into Varitek’s arms. The next, he’s likening Sox fans to “Johnny from Burger King” and taking in Bruins games while our boys are getting Joe Crede’s bat stuffed up their South-40s. Myself, I can’t forget how instrumental Foulke was to the 2004 postseason, so I give him the mulligan. But if he doesn’t get straight in 2006, I say let David Wells teabag him ‘til he rediscovers his mojo.

Kevin Millar: Want a cute comment for the camera? He’s your guy. Need a sound byte for the 10:00 news? Call on Kev. Dig on players who come up with their own unique nicknames for themselves? I give you “El Bencho.” I must be honest: I love Kevin Millar. Love the personality, the hijinks, the “I might just shit in my cap if it gets a laugh” lunacy he brings to the clubhouse. And his “Don’t let us win tonight” speech before game 4 of the 2004 ALCS is the stuff of legend. But for the entire season, Millar swung his bat like a guy trying to tie a stream of urine into a knot. It just wasn’t gonna happen. Not to mention the fact that no one – and I mean not even Stephen J. Hawking – gets down the line slower than El Bencho. Check any NESN telecast, and the dude’s rarely even in the same frame as the first baseman making the out. If he wants to stick around as professional cheerleader/hugger/catchphrase coiner, I say there’s no better guy. But if he’s your starting first baseman in 2006, just put your balls in a waffle iron.

Jason Varitek: Let’s be honest: The Captain couldn’t buy a friggin’ key hit in 2005, and for a microcosm of his season, look no further than game 3 of the ALDS, where he came to the plate with the bases loaded and nobody out – a situation that could have reversed our fortunes permanently, or at least bought us a game 4. With a chance to put the game away, Tek swings madly at ball three, popping out weekly to the infield. Cue flushing toilet. And cancel that flight to Chicago.

Everyone in the Bullpen Not Named Timlin: There were times when I would have rather seen Jim Nabors amble out of the bullpen than any of the characters we threw up there this season. At least Nabors could bust a few Gomer Pyle moves or maybe belt out a tune like “Christmas Eve in My Hometown.” You won’t get that shit from John Halama.

Edgar Renteria: Edgah made the final out of the 2004 season, sealing the Red Sox’ World Series victory. This year, he returned the favor, signaling the end of our 2005 run. We then got to spend the next week watching Orlando Cabrera get key hits, make stellar plays, and jump around like Caesar during the climactic scenes of Conquest of the Planet of the Apes. Obviously, there was some master plan that Theo had when he sent OC packing and signed Edgah for long green. Perhaps this master plan will manifest itself in the 2006 season. Let’s hope that it involves replacing one-half of Renteria’s body with steel casings and fitting his shoulders with laser-guided missiles. Oh, and legalized prostitution in the grandstands.

Trot Nixon: At some point in his career, Trot’s reputation as a “fella who plays the game right” eclipsed the sad reality that he’s become “the guy who can’t hit for power.” Not to mention, “the dude whose ass tightens up at least twice a season.” If you’re ever getting chased down a dark alley by Tanyon Sturtze on a three-day tequila bender, Nixon is good to have around. If a game’s on the line with two outs in the ninth and the tying run on third… not so much.

Curt Schilling: If we knew in April what we know now, we would have likely asked Curt to pack it in, get well, build strength, and we’ll see ya next spring. While he did provide a few classic Curt moments – including a notorious stint as the team closer – 2005 was, let’s face it, a lost season for the guy. Call him a blowhard, a grandstander, whatever. I’ll never tire of his bluster and ballsiness and I look forward to seeing what he brings to the table next year, when he’ll undoubtedly have something to prove.

Manny Ramirez: Enough horseshit. They’re keeping Manny.

Red and Denton invite you to visit their subpar Red Sox blog, www.survivinggrady.com. Pants optional.