Category: Between Innings

Lock-Out Knock-Out

It was twenty-five years ago this week, on tape delay, that the world witnessed perhaps the greatest moment in the history of hockey when a young squad of talented American college players, led by a gruff but determined coach, upset the heavily-favored Red Army squad from the Soviet Union and vaulted themselves into the Olympic finals, where they easily beat Finland to take the gold. The “Miracle On Ice,” as the win against the Soviets was later to be named thanks to Al Michael’s call in the final seconds, united a nation trying to pick itself up after a decade of indifference and, in the same moment, captured the glory of the game itself. If that was the pinnacle of hockey, the low point came last week, when NHL commissioner Gary Bettman took the podium in New York City and announced the cancellation of a major professional sport season for the first time in history.

Thus, the day came that was both expected and feared and, consequently, the National Hockey League, for all intent and purpose, is dead. Whether the two sides can reach an agreement before the start of the next scheduled season is no longer of significance. The NHL got greedy trying to establish itself as the number one sport on the planet and did nothing except to force itself into financial ruin. Expansion tried to force teams into markets that just weren’t there and had the negative effect of watering down the talent. Player salaries escalated to the point that they were forcing some teams into bankruptcy, yet many league owners were either unwilling or unable to police themselves and the players were enjoying the wealth too much to care about the league’s financial distress. The money that was expected to come in the form of a television contract, like the major networks and the National Football League had negotiated, never materialized and the debt mounted.

Knowing that it would be vehemently opposed by the players union, the owners nevertheless tried to force the institution of a salary cap and locked out the players before the new season had a chance to be. With time enough to try and hammer out a deal that would save the season, the two sides inside dug in their heels and refused to come to the table, wagging fingers at each other and blaming the other for the mess that had been created. As the point of no return approached, the players suddenly decided to try and hammer out a figure with the owners, but the two sides still could not come to an accord. It was a difference of mere millions, but neither side wanted to surrender more than a few minor concessions. In the end, the league made the only, if imprudent, choice left; it pulled the plug on itself and, in the process, further.

It remains to be seen how far the ripple effect of these actions will be felt across North America. Who’s to say that the effects won’t spill over into minor league hockey, where leagues like the American Hockey League have seen attendance drop this season despite having some NHL talent among its ranks? Will high school and college hockey suffer the same fate if these boys, who have practiced diligently for years to perfect their skills, suddenly realize that there’s no reward for all that hard work?

Hopefully, Major League Baseball owners and players have watched and learned from the mistakes that their brethren in the NHL made. It isn’t difficult to imagine that this same scenario could play itself out in another couple of years when the current collective bargaining agreement expires. Despite the general feeling from the owners that the economic playing field needs to be leveled, several once more threw money around to players this off-season, signing several second and third-rate players to sizeable, long-term deals. As has been pointed out before in this column, the lack of parity outside of the big-market venues is slowly sucking life out of the league, evident by the half-empty baseball stadiums and abysmal television ratings. The last thing that Major League Baseball needs is to mirror the failed efforts of the NHL; instead, the owners and the players, who both have a vested interest in the success of the league, must find common ground together to create a balanced package that will be beneficial to both sides as well as the health of the sport.

In Need Of A Fix

Yankees first baseman Jason Giambi, looking rather drained and weary in stark contrast to the man we’ve all seen launch several souvenir baseballs into the bleachers over his career, all but admitted in a packed press conference at Yankee Stadium yesterday that he had used performance-enhancing drugs in the past, including steroids. All he wishes to do now, with the belief that a great burden has been lifted from his shoulders, is put past mistakes behind him and focus on the goal of helping his New York teammates reclaim the glory of a championship in 2005. Of course, it will be nearly impossible to do so now that former Major League Baseball player Jose Canseco, who stroked 462 home runs in his major league career, not only admits in his new book, due to be released Monday, to using steroids but also fingered several former players and teammates, including fellow Bash Brother Mark McGwire and former Texas teammates Juan Gonzalez, Rafael Palmeiro, and Ivan Rodriguez.

Odd that all of this comes just a day after MLB commissioner Bud Selig appeared in San Francisco, stood in front of SBC Park, and announced that the city would host the 2007 All-Star contest. Ironically, it will take place the year after Barry Bonds, the player who some accuse of being the biggest cheat in baseball, witnesses the end of his contract with the Giants and perhaps his career, more than likely able to stake a claim to the title of the most prolific American home run hitter of all time. Fortunately, there’s little chance that he’ll ever catch up with Sadaharu Oh, who clobbered 868 home runs in 23 seasons of professional baseball with Japan’s Yomiuri Giants, to stake ownership of greatest home run hitter ever, period. Admit it; you likely either snickered or rolled your eyes when the legendary Willie Mays, Bond’s godfather, stood at the podium in front of the park and joked to reporters that perhaps he would have hit a few more home runs had he played here and that Bonds was aware of this fact. Yeah, we’re sure that Barry gets all the help he needs to pad those statistics thanks to the park’s generous dimensions that favor left-handed batters.

Of course, part of the blame can be pointed in the direction of Mr. Commissioner; his only response in addressing the problem recently is to flash the recently-signed pact, a more extensive, punitive and comprehensive policy governing testing for steroids and other banned substances, reached last month between Major League Baseball and the MLB Players Association. It’s not hard to see that this agreement has more bite than the toothless policy that had been instituted before this landmark accord. Yet this deal is just one answer to many questions still left to be satisfied with a viable response. How many records have been set by and how many honors have been bestowed upon players who weren’t all that they seemed? How long did the ownership turn its collective eye away from the problem, focused instead on trying to get the game back on its feet after the disastrous baseball strike in 1994? Why did it take loud whispers from every clubhouse in baseball, the death of a former MVP, and US Senate hearings to finally get baseball to address the matter?

It would be really hard to just take an eraser, open the record books, and begin removing names and numbers; this isn’t exactly an open-and-shut case like Milli Vanilli’s Grammy Award. Even with solid proof that a player cheated, there’s little the league can do. It appears that perhaps only history will mark this era in baseball with an asterisk, much like Ford Frick labeled the new home run record set by Roger Maris in 1961, the first year that the league added eight additional games to the regular season schedule. Of course, Maris accomplished that feat using determination as his drug of choice, not something that came in the form of a pill, a salve, or an injection.

Sadly, baseball continues to claim ignorance when it is clear that there was never doubt that there was something rotten in the state of the league. Canseco is certainly not the most trustworthy source; his allegations and accusations need to be taken with a grain of salt since he has made it his mission to single-handedly embarrass the industry that made him a household name. Regardless, from everything that we know today, league ownership needs to put on an honest face, swallow its pride, and cough up the truth about what it knows. Otherwise, the credibility of the league will continue to crumble and no apology will be able to repair the damage.

It’s Good To Be The King

How might it possibly get any better for New England sports fans? Both the Boston Red Sox and the New England Patriots are the reigning world champions in their respective sports and, after Tom Brady, Tedy Bruschi, and the rest of the supporting cast took care of Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger and the mighty Pittsburgh juggernaut, they are off to their third Super Bowl in four years with loud whispers of dynasty heard almost everywhere you go. Let’s not forget that the University of Connecticut is home to the reigning NCAA men’s and women’s basketball champions and that the current Boston College men’s basketball squad is undefeated as of this morning (17-0) with just over a month to go before tournament time. Heck, witness even the WNBA’s Connecticut Sun, who won the Eastern Conference Finals before losing a three-game championship series to the Seattle Storm.

2004 seemed like a turning point in the recent fortunes of New England teams, although we can’t ignore other championships sprinkled here and there in recent years. The Connecticut basketball program also produced a men’s champion in 1999 while the women’s squad has claimed five of the last ten championships. The BC hockey team won the NCAA Frozen Four tournament in 2001. Of course, there was also the very first Super Bowl championship won by the Patriots, a surprising 20-17 victory in 2002 over the St. Louis Rams, who entered the game as 14-point favorites. The victory parade that followed two days later in Boston made people wonder just how crazy it would be if the Red Sox ever turned the trick.

Despite feeling to the contrary, it’s really hard to successfully argue about a lack of success in sports for New England sports teams, especially at the professional level. You have the Celtics with 16 championships, the Red Sox with six, the Bruins with five, and the Patriots with two. Compare that to Cleveland, for example, which has not seen a champion in major professional sports since the Browns won the NFL championship in 1964. What about Seattle, who has one professional sports title (the 1978 NBA title) on its resume, not counting the aforementioned WNBA championship?

Still, with all the accolades over the years, the area has never been the hub of the sports universe. Before 2004 began, the most well-known fact about professional sports here was that the Red Sox had not won a championship since the club shipped Babe Ruth to the Yankees around the time that my grandfather was ten. The Patriots, of course, never seemed to get it right; who could forget the embarrassment of watching them fumble and stumble through Super Bowl XX against the powerhouse Chicago Bears, who had cut a swath of destruction on their way to the title that year?

All of the sudden, the national focus in sports has turned its eye to this tiny northeast corner of the country where the summers are hot and sticky and winters find us buried under three feet of snow. The Red Sox are enjoying the sudden attention that comes with winning a World Series and gearing themselves for another run this year. The Patriots have won 33 games in the last two seasons and are poised to repeat what they accomplished in Super Bowl XXXVIII.

I realize that this run of good fortune will not last forever; it may even come as early as next Sunday in Super Bowl XXIX against Philadelphia if the Patriots come up short against the NFC champion Eagles. Brady may suddenly descend to the rank of mortal men and opposing teams may start to pick apart whatever Bill Belichick throws at them. As for the Red Sox, even with a championship in its back pocket, the team might stumble out of the starting block and never recover or, as has been the case before, play well for most of the year and then fall apart at the end; then it might be another few years before they return to glory. Even some great sports dynasties of the past, like the Dallas Cowboys, the Celtics, the New York Yankees, and the Montreal Canadians, have eventually crumbled, and there will be a day when the local sports media will return to reporting despair and misery, a pastime in its own right.

Nevertheless, there has never been a better time for fans in New England to enjoy watching its teams play. For all those years that I stayed loyal to these teams despite the struggles and misfortunes, the last year has been more than satisfying. For once, I feel a sense of elation, almost euphoria, and I plan to enjoy that sensation for as long as it lasts.

The Madness Of King George

Without looking at the calendar, it must be January, and that’s not because the thermometer outside my kitchen window reads less than zero and has more than a few icicles dangling from the dial. I just have to glance in the direction of New York Yankees owner George Steinbrenner who, as he has about this time every off-season, has extracted his big, fat, obnoxious wallet from the back of his trousers to dole out another $32 million for a player who, when his new extension kicks in, will be 42 years old. After all, it’s been over four years since he’s had a chance to parade a World Series championship trophy through the Canyon of Heroes and he’s getting restless. Never mind that, after last season, he was slapped with a $25 million competitive-balance tax (whom are we kidding?) from Major League Baseball after paying out $183 million to watch his team execute, arguably, the biggest choke ever in sports history.

Yet, even with the signing of Randy Johnson, no one seems to have broken into a sweat; it’s as if a tree fell in the woods and no one was around to hear the branches snap as it smacked the ground. The situation is almost in stark contract to last year when, after Boston failed in its efforts, New York snatched Alex Rodriguez and his big, fat, obnoxious contract from Texas and declared themselves the only ticket in town. How about in 2003, when they again out-muscled the Red Sox for the rights to Jose Contreras? Let’s not forget what happened following the last championship season in 2000, when the Yankees pulled out all the stops to land Mike Mussina, staying one step ahead of Boston’s attempt to sign the free-agent pitcher.

Even a diehard Red Sox fan like me, who loathes the success of the Yankees over the years while my team wallowed in despair, readily admits that the pinstriped clubs that won four out of five World Series titles in the latter part of the preceding decade were unbelievably dominant. 1998 was probably the height of success for that dynasty, as New York won 114 games and finished 22 games ahead of second-place Boston before blowing through Texas, Cleveland, and finally San Diego for title number twenty-four.

So why hasn’t that dominance continued? The biggest reason is that the teams from 1996 through 2001 were legitimate baseball teams, not fantasy-league wet dreams. Sure, they had All-Stars on every one of those teams – in fact, what Yankees team has not sent multiple players to the mid-summer classic? – but they were fluid on the field, as if every piece fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Now the philosophy is to go out and buy up all the All-Stars, but the chemistry just isn’t there. Yes, they are still winning in the regular season, with seven straight first-place finishes over Boston, but what have all these million-dollar babies done? How many championships have Mussina, Jason Giambi, Hideki Matsui, Kevin Brown, Gary Sheffield, and Rodriguez brought to New York? The answer: one less than the Red Sox won in that same time.

Still, Steinbrenner has learned nothing from this and continues to wear the cast from the Visa commercial to write check after check (that’s Johnson with no R’s). He’s banking on Curt Schilling’s teammate from the 2001 team that beat his Yankees in a seven-game classic to be the answer. He’s banking on Carl Pavano and Jaret Wright to add to the answer. He’s banking on the idea that all those overpriced, lengthy contracts that he gave to three of the four infielders that will start on Opening Day will provide answers.

It’s not to say that the $200-million-plus that Steinbrenner will owe this season to his players will not reward him with a the title at the end of the season; the Yankees are still a force with whom to be reckoned and you can almost never, ever count them out of the equation. The parade route between the Battery and City Hall in New York may once again be filled with throngs of Yankee fans and ticker tape when all is said and done this season. At the moment, however, no one in the baseball world, least of all from the Red Sox organization, seems to be complaining too loudly that he is trying to buy a championship once again; instead, everyone just sits back and watches in amusement as his impatient and frustration swells, much like his payroll.

Happy New Year, Finally!

About a week ago, I was suddenly regretting the thought that 2004 was coming to an end; after all, that was the year for long-suffering Boston Red Sox fans and perhaps I was reluctant to let go so soon after enjoying everything that went the excitement of a World Series championship. From the first day of spring training right, through the trials and tribulations of the regular season and an even wilder post-season, and culminating with the awakening of my 18-month-old son to have him in front of the television when Foulke softly tossed the ball to Mientkiewicz at first, it was almost too difficult to detach myself from the emotions that I felt.

2004 will be a year that no one who was a fan of the Red Sox will soon forget. 2004 was the year that a prodigal son returned to the fold and joined the ace-in-residence to provide a one-two punch that few teams could match. 2004 was the year when Jason Varitek and his teammates collectively shoved their mitts in the face of the New York Yankees at Fenway Park on a warm July afternoon and sent a message that the season would not end that day. 2004 was the year that a young general manager took the biggest gamble of his brief career and traded the Franchise. 2004 was the year that it wasn’t over until Big Papi took one last cut. 2004 was the year that a bloody sock characterized what this “team of idiots” was willing to do to end the years of frustration. 2004 was the year that it was someone else’s turn to choke at the worst possible moment. 2004 was the year that, finally, was the year.

However, perhaps there is much to look forward to with the dawn of 2005. For the first time in our lives as Red Sox fans (making the assumption that none of you reading this truly remember the last time it happened), we will watch our team play a season as defending world champions. For the first time, we won’t be wondering if this will finally be the year but if our team can repeat the feat. For the first time, perennial doubt has been replaced with renewed excitement and we can walk around with our chests held out a little further and our heads held up a little higher.

Am I aware that the other teams in the league will now approach their games against us with the intent of knocking us down from our lofty perch? Am I worried that Pedro Martinez has flown the coop after seven seasons in Boston to nest in the confines of the Mets organization next season? Do I dread the knowledge that Randy Johnson and Carl Pavano will be wearing pinstripes next season, as might Carlos Beltran, and that the Yankees will be looking to administer some payback for what happened in the American League Championship Series? My only response to these and other questions like those is that, if these are the dilemmas that come with being crowned as world champions, it’s good to be the king!

There is no promise that this season will be anything like last season; it would be next to impossible to recapture the essence of that run a year ago. Nevertheless, I look forward to another exciting season of Red Sox baseball as I have every spring since I can remember. Varitek will be back behind the plate as captain of the team and no one will need to see a “C” sewn on his jersey to understand that. David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez will be back with their bats to provide that awesome one-two punch at the plate. Curt Schilling will be back on the mound every fifth day to expend every ounce of energy available to keep opposing teams frustrated at the plate. Johnny Damon will be back leading the charge in center field and in the lead-off spot. Terry Francona will be back in the dugout and Theo Epstein will be back in the front office, doing everything they can to assemble and develop another championship team.

Best of all, on the second Monday of April, just a little before three in the afternoon, no matter what happens the rest of this season, a championship banner will be raised high above Fenway Park for everyone to see. The fact that the rival New York Yankees, no matter how many guns have been hired, will get a front-row seat to the festivities only makes it that much sweeter. With no more talk of curses, 1918, the Bambino, or any other ghosts of the past 86 years that always seemed to stand by, waiting for the most inopportune moment, it’s truly going to be a happy new year.

Adios, Amigos

The seven-year itch was strong enough to sour the relationship between Pedro Martinez and the Boston Red Sox to the point where negotiations to bring the future Hall-of-Fame pitcher back for at least a few more seasons were little more than pomp and circumstance. Truth be told, there was little to no surprise from the Boston front office and Red Sox fans when Martinez decided to take his show from the Fenway to Queens to the tune of a guaranteed four-year deal with the Mets. The biggest question now becomes why Martinez would chose to join a club that had not seen a winning season since the run to the World Series in 2000 and finished 20 games below .500 last season, the only team who had a payroll above $100 million that missed the playoffs. Of course, as typical of players who bolt via free agency to other teams, it was less about money and more about respect; yeah, right.

For nearly seven seasons, having Martinez pitch every fifth game almost guaranteed a win that day for the Boston nine. People came to the park, waved Dominican flags, posted his strikeout total for the game in the upper bleachers, and chanted his name as he stared down every batter through the order, never afraid to throw a little inside or fire one right through the heart of the plate. Whenever a batter did reach base, fans reacted with disbelief, unable to fathom the possibility; they also knew that, when it became necessary, he would reach back into his pocket for that strikeout to snuff any threat. Watching him pitch was always reason to tune in, no matter who the opponent would be.

So it was no coincidence that as his stock grew, so did his arrogance. People who knew him long ago when he was coming up through the minor league system of the Los Angeles Dodgers, a team that he longed to pitch for as a youth sitting under that mango tree in Santo Domingo, noticed the self-confidence he exhibited and how determined he was to prove himself as had his older brother, Ramon. With just a slight build but a whip for an arm, it took quite some time for him to prove his worth. When the Red Sox offered to trade with the Montreal Expos for his services in the winter of 1998, that was when he realized that he had arrived on center stage in a city that thirsted for an end to a championship drought.

As Pedro quickly became a legend in Boston, he found himself believing that he was invincible and that the rules did not apply to him. Why should anyone question his actions outside the lines when he was doing so much for the team on the field? Whether it was showing up late for spring training, snubbing a chance to pitch in the All-Star game so that he could fly to the Dominican for a family vacation, or staying behind in Boston during the sixth game of the 2004 American League Championship Series, he felt that the only responsibility he had was to win games. He enjoyed rock-star status among his legion of fans and, through the fault of both the club and himself, he was allowed to be Pedro.

Now, the team is moving in a new direction. No long does the term, “25 players, 25 taxis,” apply to this club. With an ownership and a front office determined to follow the model that the New England Patriots football club have created in putting together two NFL champions in three seasons, it is the whole and not the individual that makes up the team and that philosophy must be accepted by each player that walks through that clubhouse door. Pedro Martinez obviously did not fit that model and, despite efforts contrary to this philosophy to bring him back into the fold for perhaps a few more seasons, the organization was quietly thrilled to have the albatross gone.

It cannot be stressed enough that Martinez obviously put every ounce of energy into helping his club finally realize the dream of a World Series championship. To a man, his teammates will tell you that he was all business on the mound, and the fans that loved him could see that in his eyes. Unfortunately, the price of his services was much greater than the value of any contract. All that we, as Red Sox fans, can do now is say thanks and goodbye to Pedro, and look forward to what should be an exciting time for baseball in Boston.

Tainted Love

When the San Francisco Chronicle finally let the cat out of the bag this week and detailed the testimony that several sports figures, including baseball’s Barry Bonds and Jason Giambi, gave in the BALCO investigation, it was no surprise to what people had long suspected. In fact, the proverbial bag was more like the plastic recycling bags that the sanitation department requires so that they can see exactly what we are pitching to the curb; the revelations did nothing more than prove what many had known for some time.

Bonds is well on his way to clobbering Henry Aaron’s career home run record by the early part of the 2006 season, but it will be an empty accomplishment. Even Hammerin’ Hank, as detailed in an article for theAtlanta Journal-Constitution today, has lost his admiration and support of the San Francisco slugger’s pursuit. “Any way you look at it,” he carefully pondered, “it’s wrong.” As for Giambi, the Yankees are looking to void the remaining $80 million contract that the New York slugger signed before the 2002 season that will keep him in pinstripes for the next four seasons, although most of the motions being made are merely academic and it would be difficult to show a correlation between his health problems in 2004 and his admitted drug use.

The steroid scandal is about to blow up in the face of Major League Baseball and the time bomb has been ticking long enough and loud enough for anyone to hear it clear across the country. Fans have been casting a suspicious eye on the field for the better part of recent years as the balls fly out of the park at an alarming rate and these stories only further lends discredit to the players. Now the federal government looks to act on the matter; Arizona Senator John McCain, who has warned baseball in the past to do something to police the players, has threatened to introduce legislation that would force the hand of the league to act on the issue.

Baseball will survive this latest scandal because the love of the game will conquer all. The fans love baseball in the purist sense: the smell of the grass, the color of the infield dirt and the uniforms, and the drama of a season from the early moments of spring training to the final out of the World Series. Every play and every game has the potential to be something magical. Whether it’s a line drive into the gap, a flashy double play, or a close call at the plate that makes or breaks the game, we rise from our seats to watch and either groan at misfortune or cheer in triumph. Those moments reveal the child that still thrives in each and every one of us that admires the bold beauty of the sport that has become an American icon.

However, to keep that fantasy intact, the owners and the players must now end the charades and agree together on a stronger policy that will hold players accountable for actions unbecoming of the game. Baseball’s dirty little secret is no longer that and it’s time for action to speak louder than words. It is not a matter of personal civil liberties as the Players Association has long argued; even most players now feel that they must answer the critics and submit to drug tests just to prove that they have followed the rules. The cold, harsh reality is that a percentage of the product that Major League Baseball puts on the field is tainted. In the past, it may have been about business, but the league can no longer do what it takes; it must do what is right.

There are plenty of arguments for stronger drug testing: Jose Canseco, Daryl Strawberry, and Ken Caminiti are three reasons that instantly come to mind. There are also those high school players who are hurting themselves more than they know because they believe that drugs are the answer to a career in professional sports. Most of all, the strongest argument is that it must be, at the most basic element, for the love of this game. As James Earl Jones’ character Terence Mann in Field Of Dreamsasserted as he looked over Ray Kinsella’s baseball diamond in that Iowa cornfield: “The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball… This field, this game; it’s a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good and it could be again.” Come on, baseball; make us once more enjoy and believe in the good of the game.

Who Will Stay? Who Will Go?

Next Tuesday, 07 December, marks the final day that the former Major League Baseball club of a free agent will be allowed to resign said player or, at a minimum, offer salary arbitration. Otherwise, a player may not resign with his former club until 01 May. That means that, in seven days, Boston Red Sox fans will have a better idea of what face the club will have on Opening Day in 2005 as the organization prepares to defend its World Series crown. Of the 16 free agents that played last season for Boston, one has fled to Japan, utility outfielder Gabe Kapler, and one has resigned with Boston, Doug Mirabelli. Of those remaining players, four big names top the list of players that may or may not return in a Red Sox uniform next season; what chance will they be back?

Jason Varitek – C
Chances: Better than 75%

Varitek’s agent, the infamous Scott Boras, has told all interested parties that his client is looking for a five-year deal around $50 million with a no-trade clause; Boston has countered with a four-year deal in the neighborhood of $36-$39 million. In Varitek’s words, what he wants is stability so that he won’t have to worry about moving his family for a number of years to come. Having spent his entire career in Boston since his trade from Seattle in 1997, staying put would be the ideal situation. Varitek is a fan favorite because he always plays at full speed and probably reached an elite status alongside Sox legend Carlton Fisk when he shoved his mitt in Yankee third baseman Alex Rodriguez’s face in July.

There are very few free agents on the market that play to the caliber of Varitek; however, having said that, he is also not among the top players at that position. Varitek will turn 33 on 11 April and, historically, catchers do not play well into their late thirties. Reports last week arose that Boston will likely offer Varitek salary arbitration by the deadline and he would have 12 days to decide whether to accept. If he declines, the club would then have until 08 January to try and negotiate a new deal. Boston wants him here and Varitek wants to stay here, especially if he is serious about doing what’s best for his family. A final deal will probably pay him $10 million per season, and some of that will be paid out up front as a signing bonus, but the maximum number of years that Boston would be willing to commit would be four years.

Pedro Martinez – P
Chances: Fifty-fifty

Before the start of the 2003 season, the Dominican dominator began to squawk about a contract extension and told the media that, every day, his price would continue to climb. Instead of going into a panic about the Boston ace bolting to the Yankees when his contract expired, the organization simply kept its mouth shut and instead picked up the club option on a seventh year a week after the season began. Fans began to wonder if the Red Sox would eventually watch another big-name player walk as they had with former studs Roger Clemens and Mo Vaughn but, two seasons later, no one is in a panic and Boston looks like they played those cards right.

Boston has offered a two-year deal at $25.5 million with an option for a third year if he remained healthy that would bring the final value of the contract to around $38 million. Interest from the Yankees has been lukewarm at best; Pedro and his agent called a meeting with Steinbrenner early this month, but the Yankees have not verbalized an offer and it appears to have been more of a ploy to try and force the Red Sox to up their offer. The New York Mets are now willing to offer Martinez a guaranteed three-year contract at the same $38 million level, but it’s not the four years that the ace wanted and New York isn’t exactly on track to win another World Series in the next few seasons. Right now, the Red Sox are holding firm and they are willing to let Pedro walk, something that perhaps no Boston fan would have fathomed even before the 2004 season began. Pedro may get his best all-around deal from Boston, but it will be up to him whether his ego will allow his supposed loyalty to Red Sox fan to keep him in a Boston uniform for another few seasons.

Orlando Cabrera – SS
Chances: One-in-three

Cabrera was a nice pick-up for the Sox and made everyone forget that he was traded for perhaps the most popular Boston player in recent memory, especially in helping his new club win a World Series. Now the 30-year-old Columbian is looking to cash in on the national exposure that you just didn’t get playing for Montreal and is looking for a nice long-term deal. While Boston has some interest in retaining his services, they are not interested in signing him for more than a year or two, especially if Pawtucket prospect Hanley Ramirez is ready for the big leagues by 2006. Boston might try to offer him arbitration, but it’s a better bet that he will try to sign elsewhere because he may not get a better opportunity for more money as a player.

Derek Lowe – P
Chances: Less than zero

The unsung hero of the 2004 playoffs blew his chance to sign a contract extension with Boston in each of the last two off-seasons and that may come around to bite him in the end. Although numbers haven’t been mentioned lately, Boras reportedly was looking to secure Lowe with a contract worth $11 million per season. Lowe did win 52 games over the last three seasons and was a runner-up in the Cy Young voting in 2002, but he was inconsistent over the 2004 season, finishing with a 14-12 record and an ERA of 5.42, and the offensive juggernaut in the Boston clubhouse helped him record a few of those wins. It should be noted that he become the first pitcher in post-season history to record the decisive win in every one of his team’s playoff series, providing an inning of relief in Game Three of the Division Series and pitching gems in Game Seven of the ALCS and Game Four of the World Series. However, Babe Ruth has a better chance of being in a Red Sox uniform next season. Lowe is obviously a disgruntled employee in the organization and also wants to escape the scrutiny of the Boston media. With the younger Carl Pavano on the market for equal value and less money, Lowe will be dishing his sinker on another club next season.

Nothing Valuable Learned

Ken Caminiti tore through the 1996 regular season with the San Diego Padres in a matter that surprised and delight fans, batting .326 with 40 home runs and 130 RBI; his reward was the National League Most Valuable Player award. After his playing career ended in 2001, perhaps to clear his own conscious, he came clean and admitted to Sports Illustrated that his MVP season was not what it seemed; the use of steroids had been the answer to why the ball had flown off his bat that season as well as the latter half of his career. The desire to become a better ballplayer through illicit means developed into a lifelong struggle with drugs and alcohol, a fight that he finally lost in early October at just 41 years young.

Caminiti had a rather amazing stretch run that began in 1995, amassing a good percentage of his career highs during his MVP season. Having averaged 12 home runs each season in the first six full seasons of his career, Caminiti went deep 26 times in 1995, then shattered that mark the next season. His slugging percentage in 1996 was .621, better than 100 points higher than his career high. He also drove in an eye-popping 130 runs and stepped on home 109 times, again well above his career averages. He also showcased himself at third base, winning Gold Gloves in three straight seasons from 1995 through 1997.

Perhaps there were whispers outside the clubhouse and around the league that there was something not right about his development, but his all-out style earned him praise and hushed those rumors. As baseball looked to try to heal the wounds of a strike that was still fresh in the minds of fans, it served no purpose to chase after the star players that were the reason that people came back to the ballparks of Major League Baseball. In Caminiti’s own words, a good percentage, perhaps as many as half, of the players were using medicinal means to boost their performance on the field and to compete for that coveted spot in the everyday lineup; were it true, baseball seemed in no hurry to check into this matter.

Sadly, the use of performance drugs, while seemingly innocent to young ballplayer, almost always leads to the use of casual street drugs like cocaine, a fuel that gave Caminiti that high he no longer experienced outside the lines of the playing field. With no guidance except from probation officers, his battle was fought alone and he did not have the strength to win that fight, no matter how large his muscles had been or how acrobatic he was with his glove; in the end, he paid the ultimate price.

There are many examples of sports figures past and present that have battled drug addictions. Who can forget Darryl Strawberry, who for years has battled drug problems; no matter how many times he has been given a chance to reform, he cannot shake the habit and has been jailed numerous times for violating probation. How about Ricky Williams, who turned his back on Miami and the NFL because of his love for marijuana, or Bill Romanowski, who has touted the use of performance enhancers for years and was indicted on charges of obtaining a prescription diet drug?

What about 19-year-old Florida Marlins prospect Jeff Allison, picked in the first round in 2003 and given a nearly $2 million signing bonus, only to leave training camp this past spring and nearly die of a heroin overdose mid-summer? Last but not least, who can forget Steve Belcher, the 23-year-old Orioles pitching prospect that collapse during a spring training practice in February of 2004 and tragically died the next day, his death linked to a dietary supplement that contained ephedera?

To no one’s surprise, San Francisco slugger Barry Bonds, dogged by rumors and accusations all year of his connection in the investigation of the Bay Area Laboratory Co-Operative (BALCO), was honored with his fourth straight MVP award this week and the seventh of his career. His numbers this season were impressive, but perhaps what was more impressive, ironically, was that baseball continued to skirt the issue of drug use among its ranks. It’s the fault of not just the owners but the players as well, who clamor about right-to-privacy matters in labor negotiations. Baseball’s drug policy, only recently agreed upon during the last contract negotiations, has fewer teeth than a sock puppet and players continue to play the fans for fools. While it’s true that the home run may be the play that brings the paying customer through the gates, the physical health of baseball players continues to be endangered; at what point will someone finally scream enough?

A Reward Well-Earned

It’s two days later, I’m still on cloud nine, and I’m counting the number of Red Sox World Series championship T-shirts I’ll have to buy for my wife’s family in upstate New York who ragged on me for years about my beloved Boston team always falling short of the Yankees. Not only did Red Sox version 2004.1 – they won, get it? – finally get past their archenemies, they then went out and all but destroyed the St. Louis Cardinals, never trailing in all 36 innings of what proved to be a four-game sweep for a title that, as has been repeated ad nauseum, eluded the Boston nine for 86 years.

For years, my biggest beef in regards to a championship having eluded the Red Sox for so many years was that, even from the mouths of self-described Yankee fans, I would hear how much the franchise deserved one. To me, that was the equivalent of a backhanded compliment; it was as if the Red Sox should just be handed baseball’s most exalted trophy without having to spend eight months sweating through the promise of spring training, the grind of the regular season, and the pressures of the post-season. If there were any team that deserves the trophy more than Boston, it would be the Chicago Cubs, whose drought now extends 96 years after they failed to qualify for the post-season this year, in part thanks to a horrible final week in the regular season.

Boston owns the title of 2004 World Series champions because they went out and earned it. They qualified for the playoffs with the third-best record in baseball, cruised past the Anaheim Angels in the division series, came back from a 0-3 series deficit to win the pennant over New York, and then capped the season by dominating St. Louis in four games to vindicate those whose past efforts were rewarded only with bitter defeat. Whereas the 2003 season ended in disappointment and heartache, the 2004 season ended in fulfillment and celebration as the team poured onto the field at Busch Stadium and rejoiced like the past champions of Major League Baseball.

That does not mean that there are some things that the Red Sox deserve. The players deserve recognition for gutsy performances and doing what it took to win, even if it meant yielding the spotlight to others for the good of the team. Terry Francona deserves kudos along with his staff for taking this self-described band of idiots and molding them into champions, even under the pressures of being a first-year manager on a team that was expected to win. Theo Epstein deserves praise for adding the elements that were necessary to better those chances and, in the case of Nomar Garciaparra, taking risks that had the potential to blow up in his face. John Henry, Tom Werner, and Larry Lucchino deserve praise for guiding this team from the front office and giving the club a fresh identity that created less hostility and a more open and friendly atmosphere. Finally, Red Sox fans from Boston to Bangladesh deserve recognition for 86 years of loyalty, even through those years of failure and frustration, having never seeing this moment come to pass.

This 2004 Boston Red Sox World Series championship – I just enjoy saying that! – came to be because, from the moment this team lost Game 7 of the American League Champion Series last season, the entire organization banded together and worked towards achieving that goal. This season came down to what happened between the lines on the field, but it also came to be because the right decisions were made at every level of the organization. As in life, the greatest satisfaction comes from those goals that you achieved through hard work and dedication to the task; it might take 86 years but, when you do make it, the success is even sweeter.