HardBall Food For Thought

by Bill Collins, Editorial Board

AKA, ChefBill,Personal Chef

Somewhere In The Heart Of The Pioneer Valley, March 29, 2007. This season, the Red Sox will be on two radio stations—WEEI and WRKO. Except for the good folks at Entercom (owners of both stations), for whom is this a good idea? If it's Wednesday, it must be 'EEI. Except day games. Is a day game before 7:00 pm? What if a game is pushed up a couple of hours, as occasionally happens? 'RKO or 'EEI? What if, due to rain, we have a day-night double header? That'll make some Entercom heads explode.

Currently, we only have two stations to remember for listening to the Sox. This opens the door for more ridiculous scheduling. Maybe we can have a different station for each day of the week! Or maybe every station in eastern Massachusetts, if they offer enough cash, can host a Sox game. In the history of radio, has this happened before? I doubt it. And please don't compare it to NESN and Fox. That's local and national, two different entities. This is the brainchild of the locals. I could understand if this were Kansas City. Or maybe even a minor league club. But the Boston Red Sox? I listen to over 100 games each season. I already have a lot of useless information cluttering my brain. The folks at Entercom have added just a bit more.

Bill Collins is a life-long Red Sox fan (despite being born somewhere west of the Hudson). He is also a culinary genius, whose services can be rendered (no pun intended) at his company website: chefbill.com.

With apologies to Al Pacino, “Just when I think I’m in, they drag me back out!” I was saying the other day that I’m excited about the upcoming season. More than I have been in a few years. From hitting to pitching, this is a very strong team. Sure, it’s flawed. The whole closer thing just makes it more exciting. Without a doubt, a closer under the age of 80 (Mike Timlin?) would be nice. But everyone goes into Spring training with a flaw. The closer, and much of the bullpen, is Boston’s flaw. And is Julian Tavares a flaw or a re-born pitcher? Can Coco be Coco? THAT is what is so exciting about the new season. There’s a lot of hope and expectation in the air.

But some of the air was let out of the balloon for me this week, listening to JD Drew on ‘EEI. The interview was going well. Then they asked him about his decision to walk away from the team formerly known as the Brooklyn Dodgers. He said it was an opportunity to have security for his family. So I looked up his income since coming into baseball. Through 2006, he’s been paid $38 million. So, take 10% for Scott Boras’ cab fare (it’s actually less than that). And 50% for taxes. That leaves a paltry, measly $17.1 million to raise a family. No wonder he bolted the Dodgers.

He was being insulted AND disrespected. He was probably just days away from applying for food stamps! Oh, the indignity…
My suggestion to anyone bolting for the dollars: just say something like, “You know, I had the luck to pursue a good opportunity. And I did.” End of story. Now for something I thought I’d never say: Manny has the right idea. He talks to the media (formerly known as the Press) once per year. Then, he doesn’t say a word. And he doesn’t get caught saying something stupid.

So, I now have my New Year’s resolution. Okay. So it’s in time for the Chinese New Year. I won’t listen to ballplayers on the radio or TV. I’ll go back to enjoying the game because it’s enjoyable. And I’ll look for JD Drew at the Framingham Dunkin’ Donuts, where they discount day-old bagels.

December 2, 2006—I’m confused about all of this JD Drew hoopla. First, I’ll admit that I don’t care that the Sox are throwing a gajillion and a half dollars at the guy. I’ve given up on the overpaid-athlete comments. Anyone, an athlete or a bus driver, should be paid whatever their boss is willing to pay them. Even if it is a gajillion and a half dollars.

And, I’ll admit I’m a snob. I don’t follow the National League very closely, so I don’t know everyone’s stats. And I only know JD Drew by vague articles written about him. But to paraphrase Bill Parcells/Belichick, your stats are your stats. And in JD Drew’s “breakout year” of 2006, he hit as many home runs and RBIs as Yaz did when he was on the downside of his career. What the Sox are paying him is a superstar’s salary. What his stats show is that he’s somewhere between a journeyman and a solid player. What intangibles am I missing? Heck, what tangibles am I missing?

I don’t object to having him on the Sox. But I am concerned that he is a cornerstone of the next World Series flag. And I never said a word about Johnny Damon leaving, as that was his prerogative and the Sox’ choice not to bid higher. But now, even with the current spike in baseball salaries, one has to wonder why Johnny was so expendable.

December 7, 2005—In the early stages of Theogate, I wrote about the beloved Sox GM walking away from the greatest job on earth. I decided that for whatever reasons, he didn’t want to be here anymore. He was (and still is) an adult, and felt it was time to move on. In my mind, that should have been the end of the story.

Now, we have Manny. He too wants to leave, for whatever reasons. And I think that it’s fine, too. If Manny wants to leave, then Manny should leave. But I have a teensy weensie problem with that actually happening. And here’s where there’s a big difference between him and Theo. Theo’s contract had expired. He was beholden to no one. He didn’t go to Larry with a year left on his contract, and ask to be released or traded. He’d fulfilled his contractual obligations, and chose to move on.

Manny hasn’t fulfilled his contractual obligations. He still owes Boston a few more years, which he willingly agreed to do. And clearly, there’s no one (or even two) player out there who is his equal at the plate. Any trade would benefit Boston at the bank, but not on the field.

So what would I do if I were the Sox GM? Okay, the acting GM? I’d tell Manny that he has two choices: show up happy to work in Fort Myers in February, or stay home, as he allegedly wants to do. But, if he stays home, then that’s where he’s going to stay until his contact expires, which I believe is somewhere around October 2009. If he doesn’t want to work, then he won’t get paid. The Sox will still benefit at the bank, and will also benefit defensively in two ways: Manny won’t be Manny in left field (that’s a good thing), and Manny won’t be at the plate for an opposing club. That’s also a very good thing.

November 2, 2005—I’m having a déjà vu thing going on. But I’ll get to that in a second. Ever since Theo (no last name needed) announced his resignation, we’ve been bombarded by every conspiracy except the one about the grassy knoll. And that one should be up and running shortly.

Depending on what you read, hear, or download, Larry Lucchino is evil, a Machiavelli for the new millennium, a baseball guy, not a baseball guy, that Dan Shaughnessy is a stooge, that every Sox guy, from Tito to the ball boys, is upset, etc. This is (pick one or all) Fisk, Burleson, Lynn, Clemens, etc. all over again. And that nothing’s changed. And that everything’s changed. All of these are true. No, wait. None of these are true. Actually, none of these matters.

Why doesn’t any of this matter? Because it’s all a done deed. People are blaming Larry Lucchino for “losing” Theo. Just as Theo (or someone) was blamed for losing Pedro. Well, it doesn’t work that way. Sure, there’s probably enough crankiness and acrimony to go around, especially as the wounds are still fresh, and will remain that way for a while. But it’s not as if this is someone’s “fault.”

To imply fault is to say that Theo is just a bystander. Somewhere along the line, something obviously changed for him. Maybe it was 80 hour work weeks. Maybe it living in a fish bowl 24/7. Maybe he was tired of Larry Lucchino. All of these could have played a part in his leaving. But here’s the deal: leaving was Theo’s choice. He wasn’t forced out. He didn’t want to be there any more, for whatever reason. He made the decision. Everything else is annoying speculation. Let it go. If Theo decides to talk or write his memoirs, then we’ll know how he actually came to this decision. But it was his decision. And the déjà vu? It was also Pedro’s decision to leave. If the conditions were right for him, he’d have stayed. Just like Theo.

October 08, 2005—I’m always the last to know. Everyone had been predicting the early demise of the Sox’ playoff hopes since they realized that Schilling and Foulke were not going to be Schilling and Foulke this year. Call me an optimist, but I didn’t see it that way. I saw one of eight playoff teams that were all uniquely flawed. Sure, the St. Louis Baseball Cardinals are looking strong this year. But their bullpen has been dicey. And the barely.500 Padres? Okay, so they need to upgrade to be flawed. But I thought the Sox had a chance to go deep into the post-season.

Why? Because erratic pitching, while being bad, can also be good. And Manny and Ortiz? Hmmm. They should do just fine. But obviously, the worst possible scenario, “0-for playoffs,” happened. Do I feel bad about it? No. I don’t feel good, but I don’t feel bad.

This was a terrific season. For a team this flawed, they easily could have finished with fewer than 90 wins. And when I say flawed, I mean injured. And, for the pitching, it was a bit old AND flawed. A 39 year old closer should make anyone nervous. A 38 year old ace, coming off an injury that could end a career, should also make anyone nervous. And on and on. Johnny Damon had a bang-up season, literally and figuratively. David Ortiz? Superlatives aren’t enough. Manny? Superlatives and epithets aren’t enough. And the new kid-pitchers? The future is bright. So no, I’m not crushed or cranky. They were entertaining. And focused (well, 24 of them were focused). And they were fun to watch. And the upside, and there’s always an upside, is that give or take a few hours, it’s only 148 days to Spring training.

September 25, 2005—I used to work for a computer company. I was a sales guy, and I did pretty well with it. But I knew something was missing, so I went to cooking school, and ended up becoming a chef. Except for the salary comparisons, life’s much better now than when I was in the computer world.

So, in the many moons since I graduated from college, and had my career change, I’ve been friendly with my co-workers. We’d have lunch together. Sometimes go out for a run together. We even consumed malt-based beverages after work. But I’m at a point in my life where I think my memory is sometimes fuzzy. Sure, I remember all kinds of things. So maybe I’ve forgotten the odd event or two. There is one thing I don’t remember, no matter how much I try to jog my memory. Truly, I have no recollection of ever going to the locker room, or the men’s room, and giving myself, or a co-worker, a vitamin B-12 injection. I’d like to believe that I’d remember some guy in a business suit, or a chef’s coat, dropping his pants so I can give him some vitamins. Sure, my wife leaves all kinds of vitamins out on the bathroom sink for me. Multi-vitamins, some C, some E, and something else which looks weird. Maybe even the occasional Flintstone’s vitamin. But no shots. I’d like to believe that’s something I’d remember.

So I’m wondering: when did it become acceptable for a professional baseball player to stick a needle into the butt of another player? Is this something the whole world thinks is okey-dokey, and I happened to have missed the memo? Do we no longer need doctors or nurses for this? Instead of a surgeon, should I go to Allstate, because they’re the “good hands people?” I know we cut these players a ton of slack because we apparently believe they’re better than us, and they’re 24/7 role models. But I’m having a wee bit of difficulty with this one. I’m not looking for collective outrage. No, I’m looking for a collective, “Huh? We don’t get it.”

September 11, 2005—I was leaving Hampton Beach, NH on Sunday, September 11. I was on my way back from doing a cooking demonstration at a seafood festival. It was a beautiful sunny day. And I put the Sox on the radio. I’d missed most of the game. It was the seventh inning, and the Sox, with Tim Wakefield on the mound, were trailing Randy Johnson and the Yankees, 1-0. Three hits for the Yankees at that point, one for the Carmine Hose. I stopped at Salisbury Beach, another honky tonk boardwalk town, and grabbed two slices of Christy’s pizza. And I ran back to the car, so I wouldn’t miss a pitch. And I continued to motor down Route 95.

I was almost off the highway when the Mariano Rivera, with some effort, finally closed down the Sox. They lost the game, 1-0. And for the first time in ages, as the game ended, I let out a groan, and shook my head. But unlike a blowout, or a closely played game, or even a poorly played one, I wasn’t annoyed, disgusted, or appalled. Sure, I was disappointed for the Sox, and Wakefield’s spectacular effort. But even though I’d heard only one third of the game, I was also mentally drained. Set aside, if it’s humanly possible, the larger-than-life Sox-Yankees rivalry. Forget for a moment that there’s nothing more important than beating the Empire. This was a great game. This is why Abner Doubleday was put on this earth. For a great baseball game. I’m usually the first to fall asleep in a pitcher’s duel. I’m just sorry I didn’t hear the whole game. Set aside steroids, contracts, crybaby millionaires, and $200 seats. This game was a pearl. And they don’t come along that often.

September 4, 2005—“Saturday night’s all right for fighting.” But not for baseball in Fenway Park. Starting last week, at the end of August, three out of four Fenway Park Saturday games will be at night. As a rule, Saturdays games have ALWAYS been during the day at Fenway. And there were more earlier in the season. It’s wrong. It’s not a Saturday night attraction. And it goes against tradition, which is allegedly important to the NOG (New Owners’ Group). So why does this annoy me so much, when there are a few teensy weensie more important things happening in the world right now? Because baseball is a diversion. No more, no less. Some of us get diverted by it more than others. But it’s almost always a great distraction over other things that we HAVE to do. Baseball is something that we WANT to do.

So what’s the difference, other than five hours, between a day and a night game? On a Saturday night, some of us work. Some of us go out. Some of us have friends over. But it’s a time usually reserved for something other than watching or listening to sports. Saturday night is the time when you have plans to do something else.
A day game on a Saturday is entirely different. If you’re doing errands, you have the game on the radio. If you’re mowing the lawn, you’ll have the radio (a transistor radio?) on the steps, so you can keep up with the game. If you’re lucky enough to have a lazy day, then you’re camped in front of the tv, listening to Jerry and Don call the game. How about if you have tickets to the game? If it’s during the day, as a family event (at an average of over $45 per ticket), you can bring the kids, or see other families with their kids. It’s a time for everyone to go to the game. At night, there are fewer families there. With longer games, you’ll leave the park around 10:00, or 10:30.

But I strongly suspect that Saturday night games are not about families or tradition. They’re about money. They’ll sell more beer at night than during the day. As the NOG increases their entertainment presence around the old ball yard, there’s more money to be made from the post-game crowd. Date night continues, and they don’t have to go far after the game. It’s that simple. Money versus tradition. Please understand. I like money as much as the next guy. Money is what fuels the Sox’ gazillion dollar payroll. But somewhere in there, the game and its fans have to be the most important things. And once again, they’re not.

August 27, 2005—Let me tell you about my day. August 27, 2005. It was a Saturday, and I didn’t have to work. That meant I had a full day to avoid domestic pursuits. Sure, I did some of them, but I spent more time procrastinating than I actually did the chores I was avoiding in the first place. Which meant I had time to look at baseball stuff online. So I read about Randy Johnson have a good day with the Yankees the day before. Then, as I was walking the dog with my wife Karen, I was explaining how I was worried about the Yankees. My concerns were that they were too identical to the Sox. You know. Questionable pitching. Awesome power. Acceptable defense. But the Yankees have a closer. Not to worry, though. Foulke had a Single A rehab outing. And the Sox were at home against Detroit.

As my day went on, I was surprised to see that the Sox were playing at night. It’s always been a point of pride that the Sox almost always play Saturday day games. I don’t like Saturday night games at Fenway. It goes against the laws of god and nature. Always a bad sign. So I went back online, and looked up the Yankees score. Down by four in the bottom of the ninth, 7-3. Alrighty! I tuned into hear the Yankees broadcast online. I love to hear them lose. The announcer had them buried. They rose from the dead, and won, 8-7. Without extra innings. So, I went about my evening. I had the Sox game on the radio. Karen and I had a late supper. The Sox were up, 6-0. I put Sinatra on during dinner. Two songs later, the score was 6-4. I couldn’t face dessert. I think we know the rest. The Sox didn’t need extra innings either, and lost 12-8.

So, what does this mean? Actually, it doesn’t mean much. 162 games make up a long season, and one game shouldn’t make a difference. And it’s better to be in first place by 1 1/2 games than to be in second place by 1 1/2 games. However, every season, in retrospect, seems to have a turning point. A game, or a moment, which galvanized, or sunk, a season. I hope August 27 is not that day for the 2005 Red Sox.

June 4 , 2005—The season’s one-third over. That’s if you’re a pessimist. If you’re an optimist, there’s two thirds of a season to go. And that’s what makes Red Sox fans so confused and so annoying. Why are Sox fans confused and pessimistic? Because they’re still battling their lifelong demons. They’re still pretty sure The Hometowne Team won it all last year. But the fans have slipped into the malaise and panic that gripped the Hub continuously from October 1918 through October 2004. They’re sure the end is near. They’re sure the Yankees are poised to pounce. They’re sure this could be the Orioles’ year. And that’s what makes them so annoying. They’re biologically incapable of sitting back and enjoying the season for what it is: a 162 game campaign that stretches out for six months. As we enter the third month, Sox fans continue to whine about what isn’t. They’re upset the Sox won’t be going 162-0. They’re upset that the Sox aren’t in first place. They’re upset that if the playoffs were held today, that Manny and Derek Jeter would be off golfing together. That’s why Sox fans need to switch to Sanka, take a deep breath, and enjoy the season we do have. There are great games. And boring games. And awful games. And that’s why they play more than TEN TIMES the number of NFL games. If Sox fans want to truly feel the misery they obviously believe they deserve, then they should move to Kansas City. They can spend their days re-living the George Brett glory years. And sit and wait for the next Duck Tour rolling parade from Ewing M. Kauffman Stadium. Meanwhile, I’ll be hanging out with Joe and Jerry, listening to the Sox fulfill their 2005 destiny, whatever that may be.

BOOK REVIEW

"ONE DAY AT FENWAY, A DAY IN THE LIFE OF BASEBALL IN AMERICA"

One Day at Fenway, like every opening day, started out with high expectations. It’s premise is perfect: it’s about a Red Sox-Yankees game at Fenway Park, in August 2003. And the stories are told by those participating in, and viewing, the game. One of the teasers on the inside jacket of the book included the promise of private comments between Larry Lucchino, the Sox’ CEO, and Sox principal owner John Henry, as they second-guessed moves by then-manager Grady Little. So the book stuck in my mind. A week later, I got the book.

Soon, after a few enjoyable pages set up my hopes like a spring training filled with phenoms and visions of October, it soon settled into a disappointment that I haven’t felt about a book in ages, if ever. Why was it so bad, and why was it so disappointing? Oh, where to begin…?

For starters, it’s poorly written, and shoddily edited. It’s filled with irrelevant musings, alleged thoughts, and stories about people who’s role in the story rests exclusively on their holding one of 35,000 tickets to Fenway that August day. Theo Epstein, the Sox’ general manager, is reduced to caricature, with too much time spent by the author on Theo’s fingers bleeding from playing his guitar too long and too late one evening. Then there’s Spike Lee. He seems to be portrayed as a caricature of…Spike Lee. And on and on. The painful and joyful part is, I only read 61 pages. The last time I had such a visceral reaction to a book was…um, it was... Oh wait. I’ve never had such a visceral reaction to a book. And I never did find out about the Lucchino/Henry musings on Grady Little.

So why did I have this reaction. Because Steve Kettman had a great idea for a book. He obviously had a metric ton of source material. And he got the whole thing wrong. How can any story about a Sox-Yankees game be boring? How can it be irrelevant? Does it take more talent to make it bad, than to make it good? I shudder at the thought. But Steve Kettman’s fault, and it’s a big one, is what is often said every September, when a Spring phenom spends the season as a dud. The fault is the “crime” of unfulfilled promise and potential. It’s the can’t-miss rookie who ends up in double A ball by July. However, there is no “next year” for this painful waste of trees and ink.There is some good news in all of this. I got the book from the library, and saved $25. Now that’s picking up a save the easy way.

OF STEROIDS AND MANAGERS—(2 ARTICLES)

Oh, those halcyon days of old, when discussing ‘roids meant talking about George Brett’s World Series. Now, it’s the “Jose Canseco milkshake” rumors all over again. But this time, they’re not rumors. According to every news source in America, between 5% and 7% of all ballplayers tested positive for steroids last season. And many feel those are low numbers. If it is 7%, that means, on a team of 26 players, almost 2 of them are drugging up. Hmmm. Could two of them be current members of the Carmine Hose?

So, MLB has come up with it’s own D.A.R.E program. You know the official one, that’s trying to keep kids of drugs. MLB’s is a tab bit different. Their program stands for Drugs Are Really Excellent!! Sure, they say drugs are bad. But the reality is that they have done almost nothing to banish drugs from the sport. The team owners and commissioner are so cowed by the players union that they wished, hoped, and prayed that the problem would go away. And shockingly, at least to the owners, it hasn’t gone away.

Let’s put it another way. If the owners thought drugs were bad, they’d have banned them faster than they banned Pete Rose. And that was pretty fast. But, like the players themselves who are on the ‘roids, I think MLB is addicted to the drugs. No, I’m not saying Bud Selig is on drugs. Although the All-Star tie of ’02 had many people think he is. No, the addiction is to the wonderful benefits of steroids. The beefed up ballplayers. The shattered home run records. The five year old ballboys with facial hair.

Now, of course, all of this is rumor, hearsay, innuendo, and a wee bit of conjecture. But MLB has brought it upon itself. The rumors about Barry Bonds, Mark McGuire, Nomar, and many others would go away in a heartbeat if they were to have mandatory testing for all players and management. One strike and you’re out. This would get rid of the rumors, and add a shred of dignity and respect to a game that’s in need of a non-chemical boost.

In this stats hungry world, the difference between winning and losing isn’t that huge a gap. When you toss in some of the “intangibles” that everyone loves, you have the hot stove equivalent of those old Miller Lite commercials: “He’s Great!” “He Sucks!” And so on.

So let’s look at the manager selection du jour. He has the intangibles. He’s a personable guy. He’s comfy with the media. Or at least, he’s as comfy as anyone can be with a paper cut in the shark tank. He’s not an old guy . He’s managed before in the majors. And he just killed ‘em in his job interview. And there are/were the health problems.
But the stats thing is a problem. Sure, he was okay as a player in the majors. Of course, he could have been better. He was up for much more than a cup of coffee. But as a manager in the big leagues, he only had a .470 winning percentage before he arrived at what’s been called the toughest of all managing/coaching jobs. Can he handle it? Is this just a huge mistake that will make matters worse?

I don’t know, but this argument certainly described Joe Torre when the Yankees signed him to become their manager in ’96. Do you suppose anyone thought he was a genius then?