Reserve Psychology

The master negotiator Marvin Miller, at the age of 91, still has it.

In his on-going battle with the baseball establishment, the wily former executive director of the MLB Players Association (1966-82) has shown that he still has another card up his sleeve.

The cagey Miller's artful tactics led to the overthrow of baseball's reserve clause and allowed for the advent of free agency in the 1970's, forever changing the game. Yet he continues to be passed over for inclusion in Cooperstown, and it seems that he has finally given up hope of being enshrined among the immortals in the Hall of Fame.

And that's just what Miller wants them to think.

Miller, who according to the Boston Globe "says he will never set foot in the Hall [of Fame] again", and called the Hall "a crock," has requested that his name be kept off future Hall ballots, in perpetuity, thereby ensuring that he never be elected to baseball's hallowed hall.

What brilliance!

Miller's advanced age has clearly not diminished his negotiating skill; if anything, he's only that much more beguiling. After all these years, Miller is finally employing perhaps the most advanced negotiating tactic known to man: reverse psychology. This difficult maneuver comes with its own risks; not since Bugs Bunny outwitted Elmer Fudd has such a maneuver been used with so much at stake.

When asked for comment, Miller's arch rival, former commissioner Bowie Kuhn posthumously said "Ooh, I'll show that wascawy Miller. I'll put him in the Hall so fast it'll make his head spin." Kuhn then rolled over in his grave.

Look But Don't Touch

In the bottom of the 5th inning of today's series finale against the Twins, Manny missed a home run by inches, and a fan's too too grabby hands by even less.

Keeping your hands to yourself is something we learn early in life. And generally speaking, people are pretty good at it. But not for not wanting to touch; there are, after all, many smooth and soft and bumpy things out there, just begging to be touched.

But, typically, there are penalties for touching what's not yours to touch. Upon seeing an attractive woman on the street, you can't grab her just because you feel like it, and you can't walk into a museum and run your hands over the art just because you feel like it.

If you did, the penalty would be severe, and rightfully so. As adults, we have to control what we want (or better yet, we should learn not to want certain things; you may want to poop in your pants when you're two, but hopefully not anymore.) And who do you think you are, anyway, diminishing that woman's dignity, or ruining that painting so that countless others cannot enjoy it?

And yes, grabbing a ball in play is definitely the same kind of thing. You shouldn't want to do it at all, and it drives me nuts when it does happen, to the point of advocating draconian (if not Franconian) punishment.

Consider the following. When a fan reaches into the playing field, he's implicitly saying a number of things, each entirely indefensible.

First, he's saying 'I hereby claim ownership of this ball, this ball which I didn't make, buy, or even ever see before two seconds ago, and which nobody offered to give me.'

(A rejection of the Lockean principle that ownership derives from "mixing one's labor" with an object.)

Second, he's saying 'even though the fate of this ball is the intense emotional concern of millions of people, I am going to take it so that only I can enjoy it.'

(A rejection of the utilitarian principle of the greatest good for the greatest number.)

Third, he is saying 'I am claiming this ball as mine at the only moment of its existence that's ever mattered, at that very moment at which all its previous existing moments were aimed.'

(A rejection of natural law ethics, which holds the interruption of teleology to be immoral.)

I think saying these things makes you an asshole.

And there's no stealing a loaf of bread to feed the starving family mitigating factor here. Unless it's a milestone homer, when removed from its context as a ball in play, all it is is a dirty ball. And clean balls aren't expensive. By taking it from the field, just like smudging a painting in a museum, you're making it worth even less.

And for what? So you can look like a jerk on TV, publicly declaring your selfishness? So you can regale your grandkids about the day you interrupted what millions of people were doing for no good reason other than that you felt grabby?

In short, you reach into the field of play to grab a ball, you're saying that having that particular small round leathery thing is more important than the happiness of millions of people.

I think it's pretty obvious what we should do with people like that.

Hunting Game on Lansdowne; Manny Leads Comeback Party, Bags Twins 6-5 (cont'd)

A good win feels good.

That's my profound statement of the day.

Winning is awesome.

That's my second profound statement (and why I get paid the big philosophy bucks.)

After dropping 6 straight one-run games, you'd figure the coin would flip the other way (i.e. theyze was dueze), and now the Sox have won 2 straight by the smallest of margins.

But these can be the biggest of victories, and citing the law of averages just doesn't capture how fun it is to come back and win.

Winning is fun. (Now I'm a Pedroia-esque 3-3)

And with Manny taking charge with go-ahead and tying RBIs in the 8th inning of consecutive games, he's finally shoving back against the bullying slump that comped him a great seat from which to watch his teammates try to do his job.

With morale high after cutting the deficit to 5-3 in the 8th, and with Pedroia on 2nd, Manny tagged the first pitch from Guerrier like he wanted to study its behavior.

But I don't think this one's coming back.

Off-Brand Coco Crispies; Sox Comeback Pays Dividends, Beat Twins 6-5

Monopolies grow lazy, the free marketers say. Fat cats get fatter and lazier without nips at their heels. Sans competition, what prods the post office to deliver the mail any more promptly?, (or U.S. Steel to be any steelier), they wonder. In a competitive market, they say, entrepreneurs take risks. Only the postoffice can afford to play it safe.

Coco Crisp has had to compete for the center field post, and he's become a risk taker. Remy pointed out that with no outs in the 9th, with Papelbon trying to close out a one run game after a thrilling 4 run burst in the bottom of the 8th, better for Crisp to play it safe; allow the blooper to fall in for a single and concede the base, rather than gamble on making an out, when a double- and the tying run in scoring position- is at stake.

But Crisp, weak all year with the bat, wanted to be the hero, to prove himself with the glove in a competitive field, to corner the center field market, when what was needed was a self-assured fat cat.

Or, if not, perhaps the better investment here was the risk-averse strategy.

Papelbon had a similar portfolio; perhaps heeding Idiot Joe Morgan's advice, he didn't get beat going to his second best pitches after numerous fouls off the bat of Punto, nor in any subsequent situation. All heat, from Papelbon, who went with what got him there.

So Casilla found himself looking down the business end of a 95 mph fastball.

Adjusted Legendary+; Schilling, Mussina and the Hall of Fame

Two caveats before we begin.

First, I'm not entirely sure this kind of thing is kosher, but this post is an expanded version of a comment I left on this Joy of Sox post. But as a footnote using-academic who's also busted people for plagiarism, I figure I can get away with it on the strength of self-anointed authority alone. (They call this bootstrapping, I think.)

Second, though this one's based on new fangled sciencey numbers, I do end on a philosophimical note.

So with only some further ado, there's been talk of Schilling's and Mike Mussina's Hall of Fame candidacy recently. (The comment I posted was in response to a discussion of the latter's.)

Judging Hall of Fame candidacy requires comparing pitchers from different eras, and ERA+ is a one-stop metric that shows how good a pitcher is relative to the league (and thus era) in which he pitched.

More precisely, and to quote Joy of Sox from the same post,

"ERA+ is the ratio of the league's ERA, adjusted to the pitcher's ballpark, to that of the pitcher. 100 is league average. Top-shelf starters will finish their seasons with ERA+s around 140."

For completeness, here's the all-time career list. For relevance, perhaps gerrymandered, here's a condensed list. Pedro Martinez, at 157, is far and away the best all time. Roger Clemens, that cheating douche, is at 143. Johan Santana 141. Sandy Koufax, 131.

Tom Seaver, a Hall of Famer, is at 127, which is the same ERA+ as Curt Schilling and John Smoltz. Jim Palmer, a HoF'er, is at 126.

Juan Marichal, who's in the Hall, has a 123 career ERA+. Mike Mussina has a 122, which is better than HoF'ers Don Drysdale's 121 and Warren Spahn's 118.

In the comments of his post, Joy of Sox suggested that Mussina's comparables are Schilling and Marichal.

So, that's the backstory.

According to my calculations, and by 'calculations' I mean 'copying from columns I see',

Mussina's 6 best full seasons for ERA+ are 163 (in the strike year of '94), 157, 145, 142, 137, and 134 (and no more above 130.) But he's also had 6 seasons at 109 or lower, including 3 out of the last 4 under 100 (not including this current bounce-back year.)

Juan Marichal's 5 best seasons of ERA+ were 169, 168, 167, 144, and 132, (and no more over 130), and had only 4 seasons of lower than 113 (not counting his last two seasons, which totalled 60 innings), though 3 were under 100 (98, 97. 95)

As a starter, Curt Schilling has 4 seasons in the 150's, 2 in the 140's, and 3 more in the 130's. In seasons with at least 90 IP, he's had just 1 season under 100- 99 in '93- and just one other under 120.

It looks to me that Marichal's peak was better than Mussina's in the same amount of time, and Schilling has been better for a longer period of time than Mussina.

Burt Blyleven has just missed the cut for the Hall many times, and is the recent archetype of the borderline Hall candidate. His career ERA+ is 118, but a quick glance at Burt Blyleven's ERA+ numbers show him to be the better comparison to Mussina. Blyleven recorded 6 seasons over 130 (158, 151, 144, 142, 140, 134), but 7 under 110.

I don't know where exactly the cut off should be, but it might very well be around Blylevan and Mussina. And as of now, Blyleven has 1000 more K's than Mussina. Mussina might reach 3,000 k's (he's around 2700), and he might get pretty close to 300 wins, which obviously would help his candidacy.

At its best, the Hall might represent the dialectical synthesis of statistics and legend, of quantity and perception.

And I think the numbers show Mussina to fit a certain perceptual type; not quite the ace, never the very best pitcher, not the The Man you want on the mound in the big game, but instead a very good pitcher for a long time.

Schilling, on the other hand, has the regular season numbers to match his well-documented postseason heroics; for an entire decade, he was one of the very top pitchers in the game, and when healthy, never mediocre. I think Schilling is in.

One way to look at the debate is whether certain milestone numbers are both necessary and sufficient for Hall entry, or whether such numbers are only necessary, but insufficient without the stuff that legends are made of.

In other words, there's a symbolic debate here; is the Hall exclusively for the very best, those few players of each generation who attained the revered status as The Man, the kind of guy the old timers tell tall tales about, or is it also for those players who performed well-above league averages for a long period of time, but never reached the heroic levels that encourage the formation of legends in addition to statistical analysis?

I don't know. I just work here.

That Old Familiar Feeling; Sox Comeback Falls Short, Lose to Yanks 2-1

Entering the 9th down 2-0 to the Yankees, against a Hall of Fame closer, scoring 1 and loading the bases with NOBODY out and stranding them there?

Now that's a classic Red Sox loss. And by 'classic', I mean a good ol' fashioned pre-2004 rip-your-heart-out-edge-of-total-victory archetypal Red Sox catastrophe.

I forgot what that felt like.

These days, it's all take the long view this, we'll come around come October that.

But this was a throwback, even without the old uni's. It has a familiar trajectory. The Sox are outplayed. 2nd best seems assured. The upcoming loss is accepted with a numb melancholy. But then a big hit, an opponent stumbles, and the numbness starts to wane. Hope emerges. Another hit. Hope becomes expectation. And just when the Sox couldn't be better positioned to win, when miraculous victory becomes not just possible but probable, they collapse, and fail.

I would have been fine, taking the long view, waiting for October, losing 2-0 on a random July afternoon. You can't expect to win 4 straight in the Bronx. But that's post- "Queer Eye" Red Sox talking. That's the 'of course we'll win 3 in a row down 3-1 in the ALCS- We're the Sox!' But they forfeited the long view by fighting back. They trigger all those old memories of being One Strike Away, of coming so close, just to fall short. They played the Red Sox. Classic Cubs is losing 2-0. Classic Sox is doing just what they did; coming back, having the bases loaded and NOBODY out, with the tieing run on 3rd, and not scoring. 3 times. To lose. To the Yankees.

This being a classic Red Sox loss, it triggered that long dormant bitter and reactionary psychology that I thought had been cured with victory and Zoloft. Instead of the ol' 'you fail 7 out of 10 times in this game and you're great' line, or falling back on lame non-explanatory cliches like 'you can't expect to win 4 straight in the Bronx', I'm screaming for Crisp's head, wanting to bench Varitek and cut Lugo.

Because, as everybodywho's ever seen baseball before knows, ANYBODY would be better than those guys. ANYBODY.

That's classic Sox talking. That's calling up WEEI and saying 'trade him for a bucket of balls'. That's the anger and the depression and the desperation, the losers' complex. That's not the attitude of a team that is just out of the division lead despite lacking their most powerful hitter for over a month, or the attitude of dropping a game on the road with the number 5 starter matched up against the opponent's ace.

Man, I haven't screamed that someone should be cut since, oh i don't know, Chad Fox or Rudy Seanez. Or Curtis Leskanic the shirtless mechanic.

I even hate it when I lose to the Yankees in a video game. I guess I'm just not totally over them yet. Minds aren't that malleable. Scars don't always heal. You can forget them, but they're there. Sometimes it takes until the next generation. Scars aren't heritable, I don't think.

Unless, of course, these are your father's Red Sox.

Pulp Pulp Pulp; Sox swept at the Trop, 7-6

Foul balls are not do-overs. There are no do-overs. Time goes forward. Thermodynamics and such.

After Varitek fouled off a hit-and-run attempt with 1 out in the 9th, trailing by a run, Lowell on first, Tito tried again.

But a hit-and-run that is fouled off is not a case of the play neither working nor not working. The law of excluded middle is not violated; there is no third option. Logic is immutable. Don't fuck with it. A ball fouled off on a hit and run is a failed hit and run. Though no out is recorded, the play happened. It existed. Adjustments will be made.

That, and Varitek misses pitches like they're his long-distance girlfriend.

Perhaps Tito Jr. was desperate for control; he had seen his hurlers throw almost 50 pitches in Tampa's 6 run 7th inning, a mere 20 for strikes. The Sox had left 10 men on base. Perhaps he felt he had to step in there and do something. But there are no do-overs, and sometimes it's best to do nothing. Or pinch hit Casey for a struggling Captain. Where's Damian Jackson to pinch run when you need him?

3 losses to Tampa, by a total of 4 runs. Not necessarily projectible; a Lugo slide here, Hansen throwing a strike there, all within the realm of possibility (it would seem), and the outcome is different. But you can't go back, there are no do-overs.

Also, I have to dust off an old one. Varitek hits like he has 20 in blackjack.

Choosing a pitch from the list; Tampa squeezes Sox, 3-1

Connoisseurs are selective, discriminating. They distinguish between the good and bad, the worthy and the base, and select only the finest. What is common and bountiful is vulgar. Only the perfect sample will do.

There are plenty of pitches. Pitches are common. The selective hitter, especially when in a hitters' count, discriminates between the pitch of his liking, and everything else. He knows what is worthy of his swing.

In two crucial at bats in the 6th inning, J.D. Drew and Manny Ramirez opened the wine list, couldn't read French, and pointed randomly.

Two runners on, Sox down 2-1, top of the 6th. Drew up with a 3-1 count. He hacks at a fastball on the inside corner- a pitchers' pitch- shatters the bat, and pops out. Manny, up next with a 2-1 count, chases a high fastball out of the zone, fouls out to first.

Foul indeed. Gauche, even.

The 3 and 4 hitters, on a championship team, down by a run, late in the game to the division leaders, have to show poise and selection. They have to be connoisseurs. When the pitcher is ahead in the count, they take what they can get. But this wasn't one of those times.

The Rays come away with the victory. They came through in the clutch. They chose the right pitches, they attacked the strike zone with fastballs, forcing the Sox to take what they were given.

This is going to be a race.

Lord of the Orange Groves

Wade Boggs would be rolling over in his grave.

If he were dead.

How else to express the betrayal by his beloved Tampa Bay Famous Original Rays?

In first place. Widening their lead, even. They're spitting on Bogg's legacy. And Fred McGriff's. And Brent Abernathy's. How could they?

People love an underdog. Speak truth to power. The meek shall inherit something or other.

I used to tease a friend of mine who would always root for the underdog by saying he had to switch allegiances with every lead change.

Nietzsche saw 'master morality' as the identification of strength and goodness; virility and virtue are one. Slave morality is the inverse; power is oppression and subjugation. To automatically root for the underdog is to identify weakness with goodness. It's a sort of slave morality.

Tampa's a good team. They are strong. James Shields has great 12-1 movement on his fastball (tailing back into a righthanded hitter.) Javier Lopez should not have thrown a fastball strike to the righthanded Gomes on an 0-2 count with the sacks full of Rays, but they earned it. The Sox are no longer the underdog. That aspect of the narrative has played out.

What we have here is a rivalry. When Gerald Williams charged Pedro, I was indignant. How dare a commoner? I took umbrage. That was a peasant revolt. He should have known his role. But now, well, the 3rd estate is moving up in the world. The Rays are contenders.

Sox fans who were in it for the underdog story, the plucky rag tag fighters against the Evil Empire, might have a hard time making the transition to playing the bully, the establishment, the $140 million juggernaut, squashing the upstart Rays and their impossible dream.

Not me. Last I checked, the point was winning. That master/slave thing is for losers anyway.

Pink Hat and Tails

Alright, fine. The pink hat thing.

This will require some credentials and caveats before I talk about it. I went to my first game in April of '86, cried when Buckner. I went to Rich Gedman All-American Baseball Camp for half a dozen summers, where I met Roger Clemens and Ellis Burks and Mike Greenwell, and even saw Bob Stanley throw a ball at Mark Fidrych's moving truck. He missed. Many years later, I attended Game 7, at Yankee Stadium, of the 2003 ALCS- That's right, The Grady Game- and lived to tell about it.

The moral of the story is I'm a suffering Sox fan (or was, now that we can play a ring toss game) as much as anybody my age, in contrast to, apparently, a 'pink-hat.'

Now, a caveat. I don't live in Boston anymore; Brooklyn, in fact, so I don't make it to Fenway all that often (also, as a philosopher, a ticket is about a year's salary), and I don't see much of the Kenmore rabble, so I haven't had the visceral experience of walking amongst, and feeling superior to or annoyed by, the pink hats. In fact, that expression, starting with the definite article (as opposed to a definite article?), is mostly foreign to me.

Another caveat. Not having NESN, I watch the games streaming from mlb.tv. So rather than the crisp, clean, shahp images of an HD broadcast, I get the wonders of a pixely Beckett and a blurry Manny, jumping discretely from stance to followthrough, leaving the swing merely implied, a subtle bit of subtext.

Basically, these third-world conditions have made me grateful, grateful I tell you, for whatever I can get.

So, that being said, I'm just not bothered by the pink hat thing.

But what's an opinion without a philosophical rationalization?

Notwithstanding the anachronism or meter, Its not 'take me out to the ballgame, take me to see how much the off-camera fielders cheat towards the opposite field when the hitters are behind in the count', its, well, 'take me out with (to?) the crowd'.

For many people, being a sports fan is about identification with others; feeling what the players feels, oohing and ahhing with the crowd, bonding over beers, chanting 'Yankees suck' (a metaphysical proposition, not a physical one, given their talent in previous years.) For Sox fans in particular, its about going through the drama, acting out that too familiar narrative of the team, living and dying with every pitch when none of them are even yours, physiologically speaking.

Religion is about collective bonding too; in fact, etymologically (yeah, i went there) 'religion' is related to 'ligament' or 'ligature', all of which means 'to tie together'; religion is about supernatural bonds. (perhaps a nickname for HGH Barry.) People who pray together stay together, I'm told, and this works for Sox fans as much as anybody. Maybe more.

Identifying with a collective, at least momentarily, involves taking on the traits of those others with whom you identify, blurring individuality, and allowing one, for example, to take pride in the accomplishments of others (as when I take pride in Kevin Youkilis, Gabe Kapler, and a Mr. Sandy Koufax.)

But what's the point of the group if you don't get to feel special? So one has to earn membership; initiation rites are as old as groups. For Sox fans, the initiation is suffering (as with fraternities and monasteries.) If not for this, and just anybody can get in, one risks taking on, through metaphysical osmosis, traits of those objectionable shouldn't-be members.

So to keep people out, groups define themselves in opposition to an Other which doesn't share their values or stories.

In the past, the suffering and oppressed Sox were contrasted with the tyrannical Yankees. Now that they actually suck, and we've whooped 'em good, Sox fans, as the article puts it, are having an identity crisis. Not willing to give up their identity as sufferers, they seek a new Other to define themselves in contrast to, now that vis-a-vis the Yankees, we are, at least temporarily, the ass whoopers, not the ass whoopees. (My old school Sox pessimism dies hard.)

So the pink hats are taken symbolically (whether any particular person who owns a pink hat is a 'real fan' or not is ignored- this is symbolism we're talking about), as playing the role of the Other, the fairweather fan who doesn't suffer through the storms and freezes and the being left out in the woods for a week to have a vision quest so that the 'real' Sox fans, who aren't yet comfortable in their new role as ass kickers (something with which I'm quite comfortable, I should point out. Also, I'm real- and as a philosopher, I'm an expert in existence), can maintain their traditional sense of collective self which is built around suffering. Cultures are intrinsically conservative and reactionary, Red Sox nation is no exception.

But its not an entirely symbolic attack; it's fair weather fans, presumably, that give that extra revenue bump that leads to big market victories, and so, to the extent that the Sox wins are a function of the market, the diehards can actually cite such fairweathers as a partial causes of their identity loss.

But what's with the massochism? (Bad pun intended.) The suffering is supposed to be redeemed through winning. And I like winning. I do, I admit it. I don't need another Grady Game. So the more fans, the better. They make it possible for Theo to give Julio friggin Lugo a 4 year contract and not have it sink the ship.

Also, I'm just not all that into the collective identity stuff. I'm more of a hermit monk type than a church picnic type of guy, so to speak. I watched the Sox win the Series in '04 with just one other friend. I typically watch games by myself. I enjoy a close, personal relationship with my Sox, (have you heard the good news?), unencumbered by sociality. I try to avoid thinking too much about those superfluous aspects- whether the players are really good people deep down inside or whether Wild Thing Vaughn slept with Dorn's wife last night. These get in the way of my spiritual whatever.

Look. People stink. Forget about them. I had standing room monster seats (an oxymoron) for Game 2 of the '04 World Series- Schilling pitched a gem, I recall. And who was sitting rows in front of me (in a seat, no less, the show-off) but Tom Hanks. People kept looking at him, not the game. Its the F'ing world series, I'd yell. Just watch the game. Jimmy Dugan would have told you the same thing.

What is it Like to be a Bat...sketball Player?

From the Archive: June 18, 2008

Reporters ask dumb questions. And it is especially dumb to ask athletes what something feels like. 'What does top of the world feel like, Kevin,?' she says to a newly championed Kevin Garnett.

I don't even know what this means. Does she want to know what being on top of the world feels similar to? If so, and say, for example, it feels similar to having sex and eating ice cream and being commended for a job well done, do we then have to ask what that is similar to? Either this never ends, in which case its a stupid question, or else it ends with the feeling being similar to something we're unfamiliar with, in which case it's pointless to ask, or it ends with something that we're already familiar with, in which case we're not interested. After all, the question only seems appropriate to ask because one assumes that being on top of the world is unique, a sui generis nature that none of us will ever experience, and that even many elite athletes never experience. But of course if this rare moment is unique, then we can't possibly understand what it is like by comparing it to something else, which makes it a stupid question (q.e.d.)

But the question could just mean 'can you describe the feeling of being on top of the world'. And of course he can't. What is he, a poet? Only a brilliant writer can get someone to feel things that he actually hasn't done- eating ice cream and hearing about it are two different things- and only through the gift of wordsmithing, perhaps, can an audience get a taste of the real feelings involved. And athletes, from what I gather, do autographs, not monographs.

Though maybe KG should have responded to "whats on top of the world feel like?" with "that's real fucking original. I've been getting 'how's the weather up there?' since I was 7 years old."

Aramark it Zero

From the Archive: June 12, 2008

Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack... because they're made off the premises and stored in sealed containers...

Everything You've Ever Wanted to Know About Pitching But Were Afraid to Ask

From the Archive: June 9, 2008

Ok, ok.

So a few time units ago, some people either claimed they didn't know much about pitching or prodded me (you know, in the good alien way) to explain stuff, starting from first principles.

So I’ve actually gone ahead and done that- written an expository, pedagogically friendly essay on the basics of pitching. Find the link to the pdf. file below.

And yes, by normal people email standards, its very long. But in all honesty, if you don't know that much about pitching, you might get a lot out of it, and if you do get a lot out of it, you will understand baseball games a lot better, which will make them a lot more fun. So it might be worth a shot.

On the other hand, if you think I’m a pompous long winded grandiloquent jerk, you might not want to read it. Unless you simply want confirmation.

http://www.scribd.com/doc/3576978/An-Introduction-to-Pitching-Goldwater?secret_password=spvq8bj71tulhma4c15

Clemens is sorry for everything he did, except for the everything

From the Archive: May 5, 2007

[Barry said:]
What the hell is Roger Clemens apologizing for? He claims he didn't use steroids or bang the 15 year old. So what did he admit to doing? As far as I can tell, he hasn't admitted to anything specific. So he's just sort of issuing a catch-all apology? Why?

[My response]

Barry, what sort of callous person are you? Don’t you care that Roger is sorry? Don’t you feel how sincere he is, how full of regret and shame and rue roger is? How can you not forgive a man after the deep and profound process of redemption the man has gone through?

It’s like when I got into a fight with Rebecca and hurt her feelings. I needed her to know how badly I felt, so I said, "look, honey, I’m sorry for what I did. Now, I’m not going to say what those things were that I’m apologizing for, and I completely deny having done the very things you are asking me to apologize for, and in fact I’ll sue you for defamation for alleging that I did those things, but can't you see how sorry I am? Good, we're made up. Lets have sex."

Apparently, she's the same sort of jerk as you are.

Jerk.

I love the new camera angle!

From the Archive: May 2 2008

To: sports@nesn.com

I just want to say that I love the new straightaway center field camera angle! I've been hoping for years that NESN would adopt this.

If you would indulge me, I'd like to briefly explain why I think its so much better:

On the 2 dimensional TV screen, from the shortstop/ left center default camera angle that is the industry standard, the pitcher stands to the left of the hitter. So on the screen, the pitch appears to move from left to right as it approaches the hitter- no matter what kind of pitch it is. But in reality, of course, the pitcher is straight ahead of the hitter, not to the left, and moreover, in reality, any and all breaking balls, including cut fastballs, thrown by a righthanded pitcher move to the left, and not to the right; in reality, the ball moves in the opposite direction as seen on TV!! The shortstop/left center cam isn't just inaccurate, it’s actually completely deceptive.

I hope NESN continues with this straightaway center camera angle, and perhaps helps people who are uncomfortable with the change to adjust to the transition by way of a helpful explanation.

Thanks so much, and keep up the good work.

2008 Season Preview

From the Archive: March 12, 2008

In case anyone doubts my expertise, feast your eyes on the words describing the following representative anecdote.

I was flipping through the channels the other day, and came across a scrambled baseball game. For a brief instant, (as opposed to a lengthy one), the pitcher was visible only from the knees down. He then delivered a pitch to the plate.

'That’s Andy Pettitte!', I said.

'and Pettitte throws low, ball one', said the announcer.

Yes, that's right. I recognized Andy Pettitte just from how his calves look when he pitches. (No Clemens ass jokes please. well, ok, maybe three.)

Granted, I’m a bit of a specialist. More general knowledge, such as how to make money or where relevant body parts are, well, that eludes me.

Be that as it may, nonetheless, and regardless, per your request, here's my four cents (two cents with inflation, of course.)

The Sox rotation is in an enviable position. 4 starters at or below the age of 27. I feel good now, and for the long haul (assuming we can get some migrant workers to make such a long haul.)

Now I’m no doctor, nor do I go to them or do what they advise, but Beckett's back spasms don't seem like that big of a deal. He’s just coming into his prime years, and if last year was any indication, well, that'll be pretty sweet. His command of the two seamer and sinking fastball improved dramatically, he was able to take a couple of mph off his changeup, thereby increasing the differential, and it’s now a more effective pitch. He cut his homeruns in half last year. And, then, of course, was the playoffs. Where he owned like the landed gentry.

Some theorized that Dice-k will have an analogous development to Beckett, presumably on the supposition that Japan is quadruple-A like the National League, and that it takes such a bus league star a year to adjust to the show, where they hit white balls for batting practice, the ballparks are like cathedrals, the hotels all have room service, where the women have long legs and brains, and where even the players' wives are on roids.

However, his last spring start was more of the same- though big k's, far too high pitch counts for anybody's good, unless he gets paid by the pitch, which I don't think he does, except when he does commercials, unless I’m equivocating. But Dice K did have quite a debut last year- 200 IP and as many K's. Good stuff. I think he'll be ok. No reason to think he'll get worse, at least.

I very quickly became a Lester fan at the end of last year, after being quite doubtful for a while. (It was his last minute negative campaigning, and his ability to answer a phone that did the trick, methinks.) First I thought he was Casey Fossum, now he might be Andy Pettitte. (They have such similar calves, after all.) The key for Lester is fastball command. (I hope this isn't a McCarver esque truism, though I fear it be so.) He could probably benefit by taking an mph or two off, and going for movement, especially down in the zone. Even if he did, he'd still be throwing 90, 91, with some sink, and then he could amp it up to 92-94 with the four seamer up in the zone. Not many lefties throw hard enough to get away with that. And offset that with a Pettitte or Al Leiter type cutter in on righties, as he's started to do more successfully, particularly as he did in the last postseasons appearances, and that's an algorithm for victory. He was quite sharp the other day- and remember, before Papelbon emerged as a closer, Lester was the more highly tauted as a starter. He could really turn into a very good pitcher.

I want to love Bucholtz- his stuff is Mussina esque- big palmball like change, with huge separation from his fastball, great overhand curve. (Why am I comparing all these guys to Yankees? its eerie. I mean, I was even just about to say that Justin Mastersons's neck is as sweaty and appealing to disease-ridden flies as Joba Chamberlain's.) But he's a small guy, and clearly has durability issues, so hopefully he can figure out how to throw his fastball at less than maximum effort, like, say, Mussina does. I read this spring that his mechanics are out of whack, (whereas mine were in whack, at least, before I whacked them off...) which can happen if a guy is using too much effort, throwing too hard. But if we can treat him as a 5th starter, skipping a turn now and then, not expecting too much, and he gives us 25, 27 starts this year, he could be a real asset.

I think Colon has a chance to be good. (He has to be- for such a blob looking guy named colon, well, if his pitching starts to stink...) But (I wonder if parentheses tip off a joke (or if parentheses embedded within other parentheses do))... but his stats for the last few years are respectable; his defense independent stats- k, bb, hr- for the last two years are as good, if not better, as is the case of k's/ip, then they were in previous years. I’m not a doctor, but I do like Scrubs, so I'm going to say if he's healthy, he's not yet over the hill. Early reports on him are optimistic, though last I heard about his velocity it was barely up to 90. But he's never been a big strikeout guy, despite his reputation, and has a pretty heavy two seamer, so he can probably live there.

And Wake is Wake. Although this may prove false, if business isn't business anymore, or, more generally speaking, it no longer is what it is.

And who knows about Schilling? I think we were lucky to get 3 wins out of him in the playoffs last year. We got 2 championships out of that shithead. And I’m no doctor, nor do I believe their precious science, but he's a long shot. I don't think we can count on him coming back. But if so, he's a plus. A plus size, a 3 plus 3 more ERA. I kid, I kid. I have to, because the fucker is anti-choice.

At least, I think he is.

As I often say, comedy over truth, or more modestly, attempting comedy over looking something up. I do it with my students all the time.

I’m not entirely excited about the prospect of Julian Tavarez making starts, in the case of injury, but he wasn't always awful last year, and he gave some decent innings, and even though 4 runs in 6 innings is a 6.00 era, (and though I didn't major in math or miracles), that kind of performance keeps a team with a strong offense in the game, with a chance to win. And I do think Kyle Snyder actually has some potential as a spot starter. Anyone with a 47 mph John Burkett curveball and who's been called a poor man's Bronson Arroyo has got to get people excited.

So, uh, I think that's it for this installment of 'analysis of local baseball men do battle on the field of play'.

Free range shortstop

From the Archive: February 23, 2008

Its been known for some time that Jeter sucks in the field.

People have a hard time with this conclusion because he looks good at short, in that he's fluid and makes athletic plays, and because the scientific approach involves hypothesizing about plays he should have made, but didn't get to, and comparing him to others in similar situations that of course aren't observable at that moment from that same seat in the ballpark (or on the couch).

More generally, its another case of the battle between objective (observer-independent) detailed statistical analysis versus a subjective anecdotal perception, a.k.a science versus religion.

So that's always fun.

But I’ve often wondered why Jeter has such poor range- after all, he's a speedy baserunner, and an especially brilliant basestealer- check out his percentage of successful steals. One would think such things would translate into fielding range, but I guess they don't.

Sucks for him, that asshole.

Cont'd: Free trade: money and competition

From the Archive: 10/27/07
[continuation of http://soxlosophy.blogspot.com/2008/06/free-trade-money-and-competition.html]

I don't think anyone is going to dispute that few other teams could have made Theo’s mistakes, or that payroll can be statistically correlated (though causation is a whole other issue) with regular season victories. Unfortunately, this is all irrelevant.

The relevant issue is whether the causes of this scenario- payroll discrepancies- are such that they render the scenario unethical. That is to say, the issue is whether this situation has come about in such a manner that we should, in good conscience, not follow/patronize/enjoy the game; the issue is not that there are payroll discrepancies, but who bears responsibility for the payroll discrepancies.

I deny that the only object of blame is 'the system'. My basic point in the last email was that the individual franchises are to an important degree responsible because they are in fact rich, and by 'rich' I mean 'able to spend lots and lots of money on things.'

One might be inclined to make the following claims: a) that payroll is a function of a team's revenue stream, b) there are 'small market' teams that have less revenue, and so can't afford the same payroll, and c) that a team doesn't bear any responsibility for that revenue stream (and by extension, doesn't bear responsibility for its payroll, because of a)- that payroll is a function of revenue.)

But a), b), and c) are false.

Firstly, teams make a profit. That means they have more money then they're spending. Therefore, they could choose to spend more. Secondly, all teams are owned by companies or people with stakes in other companies, and so have revenue streams outside of their baseball franchises. A megacorporation like Coors, which owns the Rockies, could choose to use profits from any of its subsidiaries to invest in players if it wanted to. But it doesn't. So a) is false. That’s not my fault, nor The System's, nor Bud Selig's, that's theirs.

Is it bad business to do this? Maybe. But the point of the examples of Toronto and Cleveland is that fans everywhere, no matter the market, will pay to see winning baseball- there's no such thing as a small market when the team is winning. If a team puts a World Series caliber team on the field, guess what: the revenue will increase. If a team chooses to invest in its team, and it wins, it'll make money. A team can also choose to spend less money, and thereby make less money. In other words, a team does bear some responsibility for its revenue stream- c) is false.

But spending money isn't a sure thing- (the statistical correlation of payroll with wins is not causation; payroll does not determine with physical necessity the outcome of games.) the point about the Rockies in particular is they tried this strategy with Hampton and Neagle and it failed. They spent the money, it didn't work, and so they decided to not spend money anymore and be satisfied with a team with a lower payroll. (Granted, it was a different ownership group, so 'they' is a bit vague.) But Colorado had the money, just like Baltimore, or Toronto, or whomever, regardless of whether they are in a 'small market,' have money, and choose not to spend it. So b) is false.

Again, and generally speaking, if the team invested money in a winning team, they'd get more fans, more national attention, more advertising, etc.- they'd make more money, and then they could have a higher payroll. The System does not stop anyone or everyone from doing this, they way the system in the real world does require unemployment and low wages and such. All teams are rich enough to do this if they chose to take the risk. But some teams are run poorly, or cheaply. They either don't invest, or they invest poorly. Why do you assume its fault of the system that the pirates and royals don’t' succeed? What evidence do you have for this? They fail every year because they are poorly managed. The A's are well managed, and compete every year despite a comparability low payroll. Every year some or a few small market teams make the playoffs. The reason Pittsburgh and KC aren't on this list is because they suck and spend money on Gil Meche.

Look, the overall issue here is one of culpability. Teams bear some amount of responsibility for their payroll, their revenue, their choices in free agents or draft picks, in which case one need not boycott the whole thing. The system is not necessarily unjust. It can be lopsided at times, and yes, there do exist inequities. And by all means, as I’ve said before, I am in favor of various balancing measures. But just like the players on the field are responsible for their performances, so are the suits. But I don't pay to see the suits play, and when they choose poorly, I’m not going to not watch my boys on the field play well.

And Josh Fogg still sucks.

2007 World Series: A matter of course

From the Archive: 10/27/07

[2007 World Series Game 2: Sox vs. Rockies]

Ok, some baseball trivia.

Question: Who aren't Okajima and Papelbon?

Answer: Bob Stanley and Calvin Schiraldi.

Oki came on with a one run lead, two men on, one out. It didn't even occur to me that he'd let those runners in. Aside from that hiccup in September, when he was as tired as a Conan monologue (what has he done for me lately?), Oki has just been astoundingly good. He stranded both inherited runners, and went 2 1/3 hitless scoreless, with 4 K's.

What’s happened to the Red Sox? Or me, for that matter? I’ve watched the playoffs with a sort of calm assurance that the superiority of the Red Sox would manifest itself. No panic. No fear. What an odd phenomenon. I mean, very little in this world of ours suggests that justice is an organizing principle. Yet I seem to assume that a Sox victory is inevitable, and that this is Good and Right. I feel this in a visceral sort of way, as a natural state, like how I feel comfortable in pajamas.

The following isn't off topic- you know why I don't like Kenneth Branaugh's version of Shakespeare’s Henry V? Because he's yelling the whole time. I guess this is supposed to show us that he means it, but really it makes it seem like Branaugh's Henry V is trying to convince himself of the truth of his own words, as if its not simply self-evident that he should be there, in France, staking his claim to the various dukedoms owed him though his royal lineage. Yelling and making a scene suggests he doesn't really deserve it. He is definitely not acting like he's been there before. In a word, what he's not is he's not regal. Henry V is supposed to be regal. Being regal is knowing that one deserves one's crown; a true king doesn't need to prove it all the time with yelling and beheadings. (I liked the BBC version of Henry v. and if you haven't seen the HBO/BBC 'Rome' series, the actor who plays Julius Caesar (the pagan J.C.)- That’s regal.)

The Red Sox act like they've been there before. There’s a calm, equanimity, a knowledge that they deserve to be there, and that they will triumph, without bluster and strain. Yes, there's sweat. But its Kevin Youkilis sweat of determination, not Calvin Schiraldi sweat of fear. There’s a Papelbon O-face, not a Derek Lowe face.

In this series, the patient sox hitters are positively regal, and do not deign to condescend. Pitches out of the strike zone are beneath them. (Yes, I went there.) Such meager offerings are an insult to our person; they offer, we refuse. We wait for what is pleasing to our royal person, and then deliver (posthaste) a crushing blow.

That sort of thing rubs off on the fan, or at least on me. I just don’t' feel nervous. Yes, I felt indignant a number of times during the Cleveland series, when physics and luck went against us; that's the thing about luck- its always out of character (as in the difference between essence and accident). and I’ll admit to losing my cool and screaming real real loud (and completely freaking out Rebecca) when, after the Lugo error on the pop up in game 7, with Lofton at third as the tying run, and Blake hit the grounder to Lowell, and I jumped off the couch, yelling, with ascending volume, 'turn it, turn it, turn it', and then thundered FUCK YEAH! Upon their so doing.

But other than that, we've been here before. We’re in our element. I can calmly watch the game, knowing that victory, not collapse, and not randomness, is inevitable. There’s no panic. There’s no 1918 bullshit that calls our character into question. We ascended to the throne through trying circumstances in '04, yes with the help of the wild card, but by now, our legitimacy is unquestioned (I’m tempted to pun on our closer and say its granted by papal bull, but I won't.) so with 9 wins down, we can look forward to games three and four, and say (with apologies) 'twice more unto the breach, dear friends, twice more'... then the day is ours.

Also, on the Boston dirt dogs sight, re: the Ellsbury stolen base which won everybody a free taco, it said 'tacoby bellsbury.' that's funny.

Also also, Josh Fogg sucks.

Free trade?: Money and competition

From the Archive: 10/25/07

[a friend wrote:]
Shame on all of you. Look at payroll discrepancy! Where would the Indians be if they had made the same trades Theo did over the last 3 years??

[my response]

If you're waiting for socialism before you let yourself have a good time, well, I’m not quite sure what to say to that.

I’m all in favor of luxury taxes and income re-distribution in the name of competitive balance. However, current inequities do not diminish my interest in nor my enjoyment of the game.

And I don't think they should.

I don't think they should for one simple reason. Baseball teams are not like poor people. The main reason for this is that poor people are poor, whereas baseball teams are rich. (They are also not people; of course. this is especially true of the Yankees.)

The idea that there are 'haves' and 'have nots' in baseball is simply not apt. Everyone who owns a baseball team is rich beyond our wildest dreams. The Rockies are owned by Coors. They don't have money? They couldn't choose to spend more on payroll if they wanted to?

There’s a manipulative capitalism way of saying people are free to choose, and a real way. Its wrong to say that people who are slowly starving to death 'choose' to work for 2 cents an hour because the alternative they're not 'choosing' is quickly starving to death at 0 cents an hour. This isn't a real choice, and it isn't right. But baseball teams are rich rich rich. And they really do choose not to spend on payroll.

Boston and Denver, and New England and the rocky mountain region, have comparable populations. If the Red Sox are a 'bigger market' team than the Rockies, and so have more money, then that's because people in new England care more about baseball than their rocky mountain counterparts. Good for us! And if people care more, and are willing to pay more, then they are more deserving of a better team. Why should the sox be penalized for having passionate fans?

This is not analogous to saying 'why should tycoons be penalized for their initiative and entrepreneurial spirit by paying taxes or a fair wage?' Tycoons have more power than their workers, and so workers can't negotiate fairly, and so need institutionalized assistance (like labor laws and unions). And corporations use and depend on government infrastructure and human resources and public education for future employees, for which they owe money. The Red Sox do not have more power than the Rockies- the Red Sox can't fire the Rockies or ship them off to China. And the Red Sox do in fact pay a heavy luxury tax, which is distributed among the other teams. They incur this penalty as a result of choosing to pay a lot of money for their team on the field. Good for them. That’s their choice.

If the Rockies spent more money, more fans would care and show up. Toronto sold out Skydome every day when they were great in the early 90's. Cleveland sold out every day when they were great in the mid and late 90's. These are 'small market' teams. Fans everywhere care, and show up and pay money, when their teams win. And when teams win, they make lots of money. And if teams bothered to spend that money on players, then they'd win more, and they'd get a return on their investment. But Pete Coors and the Coors brewing company would rather pocket the money, instead of reinvesting it and giving the fans a better team. or, when they tried that, they wasted it on mike Hampton and Denny Neagle, and decided it was safer to pocket the money than risk it on free agents.

I don't see why the jerks who run teams should be rewarded for being stingy.

So sure, luxury tax and such. But life is short, and in the meantime, I am going to enjoy a perfect game, played somewhat imperfectly, and in an imperfect world.

zinger protection

From the Archive: October 22, 2007
[Sox win ALCS vs. Cleveland, 4-3]

I thought this blog was hysterical. But who cares? Isn't it great that winning lets us be above it all?

See, losers always resort to ad hominem arguments, because they have to leave the domain of competition on the field, where they lost, and take it outside the lines, and talk about perceptions and style and 'class' and people's psychology.

Unfortunately, this reverses in politics, where there is no 'on the field', and the competition is over who can shape the perceptions of morons, and influence or pander to their views about syle and class and their own ludicrous psychology (Bush'll protect us because he talks like a moron so i feel safe). and because this is actually what matters in politics, ad hominem arguments always win. which is why politics is perverted.

That being said, I think this series wrapped up nicely. a good combination of physics and luck- manny's would be DP in the first taking a bad hop over Peralta for an RBI single, the bad call on Manny's strike to second to 'catch' Lofton, 3rd base coach holding Lofton at third- and of course moral character and clutch play for the Sox- Youkillis and Pedroia stepping it up- and being overwhelmed and pants-shitting for the Indians- dropping pop ups, walking leadoff hitters, giving up bombs. Over the last three games, the Sox won 30-5. which is pretty decisive, and goes beyond catching any one break.

I missed the Millar first pitch- I was in a sitcommy situation of having to balance the domesticated with the virile- I had to go to Rebecca's sister birthday dinner, which had the potential to interfere with my screaming at the TV and aggressively scratching myself. it didn't, but I missed Millar and the first hitter. apparently, though, Millar got permission from the Orioles suits. And since they always know what's best, I'm sure it was fine. I can imagine it being weird for the Sox players, though; didn't this guy used to ground into double plays for us? We already have Lugo- what's he doing here?

2007 ALCS: Physics and Luck vs. Character

From the Archive: October 17, 2007
[ALCS vs. Cleveland, Sox down 3-1]

I HATE LOSING!!!!!!!!! I HATE IT SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!

Tonight was unpleasant. I teach a class at 730, and I raced home afterwards. It was still 0-0. First pitch I saw, Blake homers. And then the floodgates. Ugh.

When watching the playoffs, I vacillate between the perception of the game as moral, as a manifestation of will and courage and tenacity- in a word, as a battle of character, on the one hand, and the perception of the game as physics and chance, void of meaning- an inch here, a bad call there.

It’s easier to see pitching as moral. In two postseason games, Beckett's gone 15 innings, with 15 K's and no walks. That’s aggression. Dominance. The imposition of will. Beckett is the champion, the ace, the man who will triumph.

Sabathia, in his two postseason starts, doesn't have it. In the regular season, he walked 37 in 240 innings. In the postseason, he's walked 10 or 11 in as many innings (give or take.) he's lost his nerve. He’s afraid of contact. He stops throwing the fastball. He has no killer instinct (watch him get ahead 0-2 and then walk the hitter.) he's weak.

So game 1 was a battle of morality and character, of meaning.

Since then, I’m not so sure. In game 3, a couple of terrible strike calls- for instance a 3-0 ball a foot off the plate inside on crisp turned a walk into an out, and killed an inning. Papi rips a ball to the right side for a dp, and lines out to right on a ball that took 1/3 second to get there. Nixon bloops the game winning hit off Lopez.

and game 4, Buck and McCarver were actually right to emphasize that had that ball either been caught by Wakefield for an out, or he missed entirely, Pedroia easily would have turned 2, inning over, only 1 run in. instead it trickled for an infield hit. and 6 more runs.

the Sox keep hitting sharply into double plays, the Indians hit grounders too softly to turn two. crisp and Pedroia both lined out in key spots late in game 4.

this is all physics and chance. No character. no morality. Hitting is about luck- Papi is imposing his will, but liners get caught. Bloopers fall in. but pitching is about morality. Beckett dominates. Sabathia's a pussy. but Wakefield and his knuckleball- with no pitch selection- is about physics and chance, and so we get beat by a trickler.

look. We got Beckett in Game 5. Quite possible to win that game. Then we're down 3-2. Someone's gotta be 3-2 after 5 games. no big deal. And then its two games at Fenway. Schilling acts like Schilling, and then its game 7, and anything can happen.

Physics and luck.

Sit. Stay. Fight.

From the Archive: August 17, 2007
[Michael Vick and dogfighting]

In the old days, the difference between royalty and subjects was that only the latter were subject to the law. And because royalty was above the law, there was nothing to say 'no' to a royal whim. Athletes and celebrities are treated like royalty, surrounded with fawners and flatterers, and of course that gives them the impression that they too are free to act on any royal whims. That dog beating is such a whim, though, seems like a new one.

I was just watching Shakespeare’s 'Richard 2' today, and when Richard denounces those who left him to support Henry, Richard calls them dogs, for they will be loyal to anybody.

Ok, I just googled the line. Richard II says: "Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!"

Merriam Webster defines 'fawn' as

1 : to show affection -- used especially of a dog
2 : to court favor by a cringing or flattering manner

So it all comes together. Dogs and such.

Also, ever since ESPN incorporated the blog, Rob Neyer doesn't do real research anymore. He just quotes newspaper articles and writes 2 sentences of commentary. He has stopped going for it, even on fourth and short.

pretending not to know julio down by the schoolyard

From the Archive: June 30, 2007

You know how bad a season Julio Lugo is having? I felt sorry for him when he got thrown out at third. not angry, or disappointed. sorry.

For me to pity a ballplayer, they have to stink so badly that the decrease in dignity is greater than the increase in money, fame, and overall greatness of playing ball for a living.

that's pretty stinky.

Zinging San Diego

From the Archive: June 24, 2007

I like this team. I watched the San Diego broadcast on the internet, and when the final out was recorded, the broadcaster said something to the effect of 'this weekend, the Pads got a first hand look at why the Boston Red Sox have the best record in major league baseball.'

Damn motherf**king right, I said.

Until now, that was not broadcast on the internet.

This team has a swagger; they know they can win. Though some of the hitters (Papi, Youkillis) get a little cranky with the umps. If they were any bitchier they'd be on E!

I love winning close low scoring games. each pitch's importance is magnified, and each time its executed its just that much more impressive, and fosters an ever-increasing sense of dominance and control of the situation. the other night, the bullpen rocked. Delcarmen was throwing gas, and Okajima and Papelbon shut the Padres down like cops at a high school kegger.

damn motherf**king right.

The sox bullpen this year, as a whole, has an era under 3. the padres are at 2.5, which is absurd, but the next closest after the sox is someone or other, at 3.50. they just come in and shut it down like crooked health inspectors don't.

And Beckett is just nasty. with the tying run on and 2 outs in the 7th, he dialed it up. 94 mph fastball outside corner at the knees for strike one, 95 mph fastball outside corner at the letters for strike two, and he drops a nasty hook at the ankles for the whiff.

Damn motherf**king right.

Papelbon's whiff of kouzmanoff was ridunkulous. three straight fastballs, up and in, three straight whiffs. He gets hitters to wave like they were Queen Elizabeth.

Anyway, i'm just feeling pretty pumped up after this win. many things were in the face of various padres, and my feelings reflect as much. Young hard throwing pitchers who locate with late movement are cool. I know that's pretty controversial, and i'm going out on a limb, but its just the way I feel.