SOX OFFENDERS

The 2006 season is only a couple weeks deep, and I've almost kicked in my TV set twice -- already half my entire 2005 total. The good news is that this can only mean the passion is back, although it never really takes long to flick the switch and get into beer-swillin', window-punchin', tearing-all-my-hair-out form. It also means more than a couple mood swings, and as the following observations from this young season indicate, we should prepare for our fair share of 'em throughout 2006.

We Need More Hits: Again, it's early. People need time to adapt. Teammates need to understand their surrounding and acclimate accordingly. That said, when we go through a stretch of scoring only five runs across three games [as we did Friday-Sunday over the Easter weekend], it raises a red flag. Over the past few years, we were spoiled. Top to bottom, the 2004 line-up really didn't have an easy out. Even with the likes of 2005-era Millar and Alex Cora in the line-up, last year's edition stacked up runs like cordwood. All signs seem to indicate this won't be the case this year, and it eats at me like you read about. There's nothing worse than seeing Varitek go down swinging, then have to sit back and say, "Okay, only two more innings 'til Ortiz is up again."

Curt Schilling is Curt Schilling: Don’t believe the stories you read about how Curt was recovering from ankle surgery in 2005. We know better. After his 2004 post-season heroics, he was whisked away to a secret bunker in the bowels of Fenway Park to be fitted with bionic ankles, arms and nuts. His replacement was a homeless guy that was sleeping under a vent near the Boston Herald building who happened to look a little like Schill. A shower, shave and a few pitching lessons and nobody suspected a thing. Now we’ve got the real thing back. Pitching like a crazy motherfucker, cheering on his star pupils Beckett and Papelbon, and maybe bagging a few drunk drivers on Route 109 in his spare time. Curt Schilling is back – batters and drunks beware.

Manny is going to start hitting: Unless he's sold his soul to the devil for a really sweet VR gaming set-up or started dating the mojo-vaccuum that is Kris Benson on the sly, Manny is going to start being Manny once again. And when he does, all hell will break loose Conan-style, with Manny pausing only to watch pitchers beg for mercy and hear the lamentations of their women. It will be balls-to-the-wall, you-can't-stop-this-motherfucker-so-don't-even-try carnage, to the point that you'll swear you hear him say "Chew on that" with every swing. I just hope it kicks up before, say, August.

Josh Beckett will be attacked by an angry batter: And he’ll probably kick the guy’s sorry ass Nolan-Ryan-style. Beckett is one of those guys you only like when he’s on your team. Otherwise, you hate him. No different than Manny and Ortiz admiring their long balls and pissing off pitchers, Beckett’s unbridled emotion and fist-pumping will get him in a throw-down by a frustrated struck-out hitter. And I want to see the results.

Mike Lowell may not suck. That badly. Or he still might, actually. Thing is, for a guy I pegged as the 2006 official team albatross, he's acquitted himself rather nicely on Fenway turf. The halcyon days of Bill Mueller always seeming to pull a hit out of his ass when we needed it most are over, and our expectations for Lowell were slightly above what we’d expect from a hatrack, so anything beyond that is gravy, as I see it.

Wily Mo Pena will get better: Granted, at this point in the season he could hardly get worse, but give the Mo-Man some time to adjust. He was playing in Cincy last year. Ohio. Unless your last name is Griffey nobody gives a flying shit what you do. The guy can hit the ball a country mile, has a little speed and he can catch the ball. Trust me. I’ll stake my Kevin Romine bobblehead doll that Red Sox Nation will be singing the praises of Wily Mo by Memorial Day.

Kevin Youkilis is forgiven: I admit; I was once a proud member of the Youkilis bashers club. When I heard he’d be taking over the reins at first base, I saw nothing but botched double plays and a big-ass hole in the line-up. But Youk has made it happen. Replacing Kevin Millar at first, simply keeping himself from falling over would give Youk something of an edge, but his glovework has actually been quite good, punctuated by a few stellar plays during the first homestand. And he single-handedly set us up to win the Patriots Day extravaganza with the Mariners by legging out an infield hit with two down in the ninth, keeping things alive for Mark Loretta’s game winning dinger.

Papelbon Good, Foulke Bad: Let’s put a stop to all of the “make Papelbon a starter” talk right now. I was as big an advocate as anyone preseason to get this guy in the rotation: until I saw him close. The guy is nails. He is not to be fucked with in the 9^th inning. Six saves in six chances with a zero point zero ERA. Keep Foulke ready for those 17-3 games where Remy and DO are doing yo-yo tricks in the booth and the camera is panning the crowd for Jimmy Durante look-alikes. That’s the only time I want to see Keith Foulke. That or serving me lunch at Burger King.

Coco Crisp can’t get better soon enough: Again, Youk’s been doing a good job at the top of the line-up, but we need the speedy Crisp in there every day. Not to mention the outfield combo that gives us the best chance to win remains Manny-Coco-Trot. Period.

Tito Francona may be on drugs: I love the Titoman, but he’s already channeling his inner Jimy Williams with his penchant for resting players at the most inopportune times. Call me nutty, but I still don’t get the logic behind resting a professional baseball player less than three weeks into the season. Don’t these guys condition themselves to tough it through the seven months of the year that they’re expected to perform? Yeesh.