Fenway Park Forever

For just once, the little guy won, and I’m not speaking to last year’s amazing run to a World Series title by the Red Sox. I refer instead of those fans of Fenway Park, Boston’s majestic old ballpark, who launched a campaign that opposed the former owners’ plans to tear her down in favor of an exact replica but with all the amenities of the modern sports facility. Save Fenway Park!, a grassroots campaign, was launched in 1998 soon after these plans were announced and most individuals familiar with Fenway, including yours truly, viewed them as another far-reaching group just looking to stir emotions when it seemed obvious that a new facility was the answer to the park’s shortcomings. I was most interested in losing those cramped seats and obstructed views in the grandstands where I have sat on many evenings hoping that this would be the year.

Fast-forward seven years later; suddenly, with several changes made to the park over the past few years by a new Red Sox ownership, there is renewed commitment to the oldest active park in the majors. With a championship team playing to a packed house every night, the organization announced in late March that the club would remain at Fenway for generations to come. As John Henry, Tom Werner, and Larry Lucchino stood before the media publicizing a foregone conclusion, you could almost hear the soul of the park breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Fenway Park may be the most aesthetically-pleasing park in major league baseball today, although I admit that I may be slightly biased in that opinion. True, it still has shortcomings that will never be solved even with extensive renovations, but perhaps that is part of the attraction. Enter the gates, circle underneath the grandstand to find your section, and then climb the concourse to emerge to perhaps the most inviting site: the clay infield, the fresh-cut grass, and that left field wall that arises high above the playing field, beckoning batters to try and scale its heights with a perfectly-executed swing of the bat. Foul lines hug the walls as the park wraps itself right around the action on the field, with the attention of nearly 35,000 pairs of eyes on every delivery to home plate and the outcome that follows.

Less than two weeks ago, we were witness to an ugly incident in which a fan not only interfered with play in the right field corner near Pesky’s Pole but, on camera, appeared to take a swing at an opposing player. That fan was subsequently ejected from the ballpark and ultimately lost his season ticket privileges, a move made by the organization to make an example of that individual for trying to smear the spirit of the game. While some might see the punishment as harsh or extreme, the purpose was to save the intimacy of the park. While the owners want to keep fan interaction as a part of Fenway’s attraction, they don’t want fan interference to detract from its beauty.

Witness one hundred years ago when the Red Sox, then commonly referred to as the Americans, played at the old Huntington Avenue Grounds just across the tracks from the South End Grounds that the old Boston Braves called home. It was not uncommon for fans to stand along the foul lines and wrap themselves around the infield dirt. How often do you suppose that fan interference played a role in deciding the outcome of those games? Even after moving into Fenway Park in 1912, fans use to sit on what was known as “Duffy’s Cliff” in left field, the slight incline in front of the left field wall as the action took place.

These days, at many other ballparks around the majors, the average ticket holder sits far away from the action, so much so that you need binoculars just to recognize who’s playing where. Even those who get front-row seats usually find themselves with generous amounts of foul territory that buffer them from the action. That’s part of what makes Fenway such a unique place to watch a ball game; that intimate feeling, even with the addition of several thousand seats before all is said and done, has not vanished. The place where we watch today’s players like Curt Schilling, David Ortiz, Jason Varitek, and Manny Ramirez is not much different from the time that saw such greats like Tris Speaker, Babe Ruth, Ted Williams, Bobby Doerr, and Carl Yastrzemski cover the field. While the names have changed, the aura of Fenway is still there.

Over the years, baseball stadiums have come and gone, like Ebbets Field, Sportsman’s Park, the Polo Grounds, and Tiger Stadium; some day, they may be joined by other storied stadiums like Wrigley Field, Yankee Stadium, and our beloved Fenway Park. For now, the Red Sox have realized that while Fenway, like a classic car, may not have the attractions of these modern stadiums, but it’s the simple beauty of the old girl that continues to bring fans through the turnstiles.

Pride Of The Yankees

Opening Day at Fenway Park in 2005 is when I became a fan of the New York Yankees. Now, before anyone threatens to strip me of the privileges of being a card-carrying member of Red Sox Nation, my loyalty to the home team has not changed. My favorite T-shirt still reads: I’m a fan of two teams, the Red Sox and whoever is playing the Yankees. I still have tickets in hand to see them play at Fenway Park a half-dozen times this season. David Ortiz is still my papi. Above all, I will always root for the Red Sox regardless of whether I have to wait another 86 more years to see them bring home a World Series title (and if I’m still alive at the age of 116, it will be worth it).

No, I became a fan of the Yankees that day because the organization proved that they are a class act. As Boston players, coaches, trainers, and even the team masseuse came out of the dugout one by one to collect their World Series rings and then raise a championship pennant for the first time since the start of the 1919 season, New York players, coaches, and even general manager Brian Cashman, Theo Epstein’s counterpart and George Steinbrenner’s whipping boy, either sat on the bench or stood on the top step in the opposing team’s dugout and respectfully watched the entire ceremony.

New York manager Joe Torre, for whom I’ve always held the highest regard, respectfully applauded his counterpart, Terry Francona, when the Boston skipper’s turn came to accept his ring, and Francona would later note that the simple gesture gave him a lump in his throat. Then, the loudest applause from the Yankees, and undoubtedly from the crowd on hand, came when 85-year-old Johnny Pesky, a fixture in the Boston organization for over sixty years, came out to be given his long-awaited piece of history. Torre was quick to tip his cap, having been a friend of “Mr. Red Sox” since he was a player with the St. Louis Cardinals and Pesky was managing the Pittsburgh Pirates.

Then later, as customary pre-game introductions were made for the home opener, the 33,702 Fenway fanatics in attendance, who had booed nearly every member of New York as usual, greeted closer Mariano Rivera with some of the loudest cheers ever given to an opposing player in a Yankees uniform. Of course, these cheers were in part because the usually-dependable Rivera, who has 336 career saves to his credit, had blown his last four save opportunities with the Red Sox, including two in the post-season series last fall that allowed Boston to climb all the way back from a 3-0 series deficit to win the American League pennant before moving on to the World Series. Rivera could have taken a page from recently-departed Sox pitcher Byung-Hyun Kim and given the crowd a one-fingered salute, but he instead broke into a huge grin, chuckled, and graciously acknowledged the crowd’s appreciation for his “services” with a tip of his cap.

It would have been simple enough for the Yankees to remain in the visitor’s clubhouse and pass the time as they waited until it was necessary to show up for the pre-game introductions. With 26 world championships to their credit, it would be easy to argue that Boston has a long way to go to match the success that New York has had for nearly a century of play. Still then to watch your biggest rival celebrate a championship that might have been theirs had Dave Roberts not stolen second base in the ninth inning of Game Four in the ALCS might not sit well with most teams. Just last season, baseball was replaced by base-brawl between these two clubs when Boston’s Jason Varitek and New York’s Alex Rodriguez, who came within a few million dollars of becoming a Red Sox player himself, exchanged words and then punches, turning an afternoon at the ballpark into a wild spectacle.

No one from the Red Sox organization instructed the Yankees to show up and no one would have expected them to make an appearance; from a Boston fan’s perspective, it would probably have been dismissed or, to the misguided delight of some, seen as a sign of petty jealousy. Instead, New York put aside any trivial differences from the past, checked their collective ego at the door, and demonstrated something is hard to find these days: sportsmanship. Winning championships is old hand for New York but, to be a true champion, it was only proper for them to recognize when someone else achieved that success.

My favorite T-shirt will be ready for all of those visits to Fenway and, when the Yankees are in town, I’ll still loudly boo each player’s name as it is read by the announcer because it’s part of the ritual that’s been handed down from generation to generation. I’ve been a fan of the Boston Red Sox through thick and thin and this loyalty will never die; most of all, I’d like to see them win a few more championships at the expense of those boys from the Bronx. However, with everything that we’ve experienced as we’ve soaked in that long-awaited title over the past six months, we should remember what the New York ball club did for us on Opening Day. That straightforward, thoughtful act by their bitter rivals did not go unnoticed by those wearing a Boston uniform and, with a bit of luck, it was not lost on the fans as well.

2005 Season Preview

It’s almost with sad reserve that we open the 2005 season after Red Sox fans enjoyed the fruits of a successful 2004 campaign. Yes, Boston will often be referred to as the defending World Series champions this season but, for all intent and purpose, last season’s amazing accomplishment doesn’t count for anything in this year’s standings. Still, with renewed enthusiasm, this team is looking to realize something even more astounding: repeating as champions for the first time since the Red Sox won back-to-back titles in 1915 and 1916. The team returns looking pretty much the same as last season’s squad, even with a few additions and subtractions, so how will this season compare to last? Hopefully we answer some of those questions here.

How much with the loss of Derek Lowe and Pedro Martinez hurt?

Both guys played key roles in the 2004 post-season; Lowe was the winning pitcher in all three series-clinching games and Martinez dazzled in his only World Series appearance. They also combined to win 30 games during the regular season and both stayed healthy for the entire season. Only time will tell if Matt Clement, Wade Miller, and David Wells will be able to combine their efforts to repeat, but we have to remember that the Sox also have one of the best lineups at the plate. While the win totals were impressive, both Lowe and Martinez had their earned-run averages jump considerably, combining for a 4.59 ERA. Lowe’s 5.42 ERA was almost three runs higher than his stellar 2002 campaign numbers, and Martinez’s 3.90 ERA was almost double his Red Sox career average. The point is that, barring an unlikely drop-off in production at the plate, the Sox will continue to win, even with these two wearing different uniforms this season.

Should we be concerned with Curt Schilling missing the opener?

If you believe Schilling, the only reason that he is heading to the DL to start the season is because he needs another week or so to work on his mechanics. His infamous ankle, which was surgically repaired last November nearly a week after the World Series ended, is not the problem; it has fully healed and trainers gave him the green light early enough in spring training that he would otherwise be in the Bronx next Sunday night to open the season for Boston. Luckily, the Sox have enough off days during the first two weeks of the season to go with a four-man rotation and Schilling should be available before the schedule becomes more demanding.

Has Edgar Renteria stabilized the shortstop position?

Renteria should cement himself in that position for many years to come, especially given that the Sox signed him to a four-year contract at $10 million per season. He is a year younger than fellow Colombian Orlando Cabrera, whom he replaces in the Red Sox lineup and a couple years younger than Nomar Garciaparra, who seemed to be a permanent fixture in Boston until last year. Like Cabrera, he is a Gold Glove winner and has flashed the leather many times this spring, already winning over the hearts of Red Sox fans. He also adds more punch in the lineup, with a lifetime batting average of .289 and 10 or more home runs each season over the last six years. Prospect Hanley Ramirez, who impressed coaches and the front office this spring, waits in the wings in Portland but don’t be surprised if he’s never seen in Boston, so long as Renteria performs as expected.

What more can we expect from David Ortiz this season?

There is just so much beauty in that man’s swing, it almost brings a tear to my eye. Looking at his statistics from last season through the regular season and into the playoffs, it’s just amazing what he has done since the Sox picked him off waivers from Minnesota. Last year, “Big Papi” amassed 41 home runs and 139 RBI, spending more than three-quarters of the time in the DH role, and his post-season heroics earned him MVP honors in the American League Championship Series. This spring, it’s evident that his powerful stroke has not diminished, even if he’s taken off a few pounds during the off-season. Terry Francona expects to use him as the everyday DH, so there’s no reason that he can’t continue to compile the numbers that make jaws drop everywhere.

Who will be the surprise of the season?

Jay Payton grabbed headlines when he was traded to Boston in December for Dave Roberts, but perhaps overlooked in that deal was the acquisition of infielder Ramon Vazquez. The four-year veteran from Puerto Rico, who has averaged 78 games in that time, plays all four infield positions and sports a .979 fielding percentage. Remember how valuable Pokey Reese was for Boston last season? Perhaps he might not get as many opportunities as Pokey, who took advantage of Nomar’s absence for the first half of the season, but he should prove valuable as a late-inning defensive replacement. Plus, when one of the veterans needs an off-day to recover from aches and pains, Vazquez should prove adequate with a .262 lifetime average.

Will Adam Stern remain with Boston for the entire season?

Being a Rule V pick-up, Stern would be shipped back to the Atlanta Braves if the Sox are unable to find a permanent place for him on the major league roster. Unfortunately, there are five Red Sox outfielders in front of him: Manny Ramirez, Johnny Damon, Trot Nixon, Payton, and Kevin Millar. Adam Hyzdu has already been sent packing this spring for that very reason. Barring an injury to one of the fore mentioned players, Boston will not jump through hoops to retain his services, so expect him back with Atlanta by mid-summer.

Isn’t Francona deserving of an extension now?

Francona managed in his first year at the Red Sox helm to win a World Series championship, something that no Boston manager had done since Ed Barrow, also in his first season as manager, in 1918. To some, that would seem like reason enough to sign him to a new contract right now; however, the Red Sox front office is not going to rush to get him guaranteed for anything past the current length of their agreement with him, at least through this season. Should his fortunes continue, then it’s possible that he would be granted an extension after that, as well as a statue right next to Ted Williams‘s, but both Francona and the Sox are content to let sleeping dogs lie for now.

Will they or won’t they?

It bears repeating that all roads to the championship will lead through New York and the Yankees spent the winter reloading the arsenal as usual. However, the Red Sox are just as strong themselves and should be able to rise to the challenge once more. Winning the division has become inconsequential thanks to the Wild Card draw; Boston should do well enough again to earn at least that prize and make the playoffs. As long as they play to their potential and Francona continues to make smart coaching decisions, the Red Sox should get another chance to meet a National League opponent in late October for all the marbles.

Mr. Schilling Goes To Washington

Was I the only one who found it odd that, among the current and former Major League Baseball players who were issued subpoenas late last week to testify in front of a Congressional committee on St. Patrick’s Day, the person who was likely voted “Least Likely To Be Using Smack” by his high school classmates got served? It was no surprise to see Jose Canseco and Jason Giambi on that list and there is just cause to call upon the likes of Mark McGwire, Rafael Palmeiro, Frank Thomas, and Sammy Sosa, but Curt Schilling? Last time he was in Washington, he was offering President Bush a Red Sox jersey with Alan Embree’s number 43; this week, he better be sure to bring enough for everyone on the panel or someone’s feelings may get hurt.

Besides Schilling’s inclusion, there was one other surprise: Barry Bond’s exclusion. So instead of bringing the one player who happens to be the most central figure in the whole issue on steroid use in baseball, there picking on a player who has spoken out against the use of steroids and could better use his time getting healthy for the upcoming season. There are also several other players who would appear to be more worthy candidates, including the likes of Gary Sheffield or Benito Santiago, but Washington officials believe that Schilling’s obvious intelligence and knowledge of what goes on in the baseball community would provide better testimony. I could scratch my scalp until it bleeds and not come up with a reasonable explanation for this logic; even Schilling has questioned out loud why he has been lumped in with this group.

Now let’s be sure that we understand this. Bonds has hit about a bazillion home runs over the last six seasons and, in 2001, set the single-season mark with 73 tall jacks, some of which are still waiting to re-enter Earth’s atmosphere. Eighteen months ago, Bond’s personal trainer, with whom he had shared a friendship since childhood, was confronted by federal agents who claimed that they had plenty of evidence to prove that he had supplied steroids to, among others, the San Francisco slugger who now sits a dozen home runs shy of passing Ruth in career home runs. I have only one question from my seat on this panel of outside observers: does Bonds have a “Get Out of Answering Questions from a House Government Reform Committee” card up his sleeve that’s not included in my version of Monopoly?

Actually, if you think about it, after witnessing his superhuman performance last October, perhaps there is reason to believe that Schilling is hiding something underneath that clean-cut exterior. His ankle was being held together with toothpicks and glue and yet he somehow managed to effectively pitch in two crucial games to help Boston win the American League pennant and the World Series. Maybe, along with the stitches and the painkillers, Dr. Morgan used this great anti-inflammatory cream he picked up from an undisclosed West Coast source that not only promised to perform medical miracles but, unlike most comparable products, didn’t reek of that awful Ben-Gay smell.

Honestly, it isn’t clear what the purpose of these hearings are except to point out to the last half-dozen people or so in the United States unfamiliar with the situation that baseball players have been using performance-enhancing drugs for the past several years. I’m not trying to downplay the significance of that last statement and my past columns have expressed a wanting for baseball to clean up its act, but hasn’t there already been at least one other congressional hearing on this subject? I seem to recall that, in that session, Senator John McCain from Arizona told Major League Baseball to put its house in order or that the government would do it for them. Why weren’t the players asked to join Bud Selig and Donald Fehr back then?

Unfortunately, I just don’t see what parading all these players in front of some government representatives is going to accomplish; the only person who may benefit from this is  Canseco, who may sell a few more books with testimony that is sure to be damning. The announcement of these hearings come almost on the heels of that book’s release and if it took a tell-all book by a less-than-reputable character to raise the hackles of Congress, then something is amiss. Plus, do they honestly believe that these players are going to possibly incriminate themselves by admitting to any use of performance enhancers, legal or otherwise, during their careers? Or that a player, like Schilling, is going to rat on his fellow players, some of whom he is going to possibly see again this season, even if he strongly believes that what they did was wrong? There’s a good chance that we are going to see ballplayers taking the Fifth more often than they would in the clubhouse before a Game Seven.

It has been pointed out that Congress has the responsibility to regulate commerce – let’s not forget that baseball has enjoyed antitrust exemption for over eighty years – and that it has the right to call into question any enterprise that engages in suspicious activities. For those who may have missed that high school civics lesson, Congress also represents people from every corner of the United States and they have a responsibility to the American public to find out everything that goes on with baseball on and off the field. My problem is that I don’t believe that the members of the panel really thoroughly studied the issue; otherwise, the list of witnesses coming to Washington this week would make better sense. Maybe it will all become clear on Thursday but I, for one, would feel that Schilling has more to answer down in Fort Myers than he does in front of a House Committee.

The Hall Won’t Heed The Call

Yesterday, the Veterans Committee from the Baseball Hall of Fame voted on whether any former players that had not been elected by the Baseball Writers’ Association of America deserved induction and, of the twenty-five candidates on the ballot, not one of these legendary figures made the cut. Two former greats, Ron Santo and Gil Hodges, were the closest to gaining entrance with 65% of the vote, eight votes shy of enshrinement. Tony Oliva and Jim Kaat, two other luminaries from the game, gained just a little more than half the vote. Meeting biennially, the committee was revamped after the election of former Pittsburgh great Bill Mazeroski in 2001; there was the argument that his career numbers were hardly worthy of the standards necessary to sit alongside names like Ruth, Williams, and other immortals. By not electing a single player to join Wade Boggs and Ryne Sandberg this July, the outcome makes it two straight shutouts served by the committee, as no one was elected in 2003.

The Hall hails these results and those of recent BBWAA ballots as proof that it has set higher standards for induction, meaning that punching your ticket to immortality won’t happen if you don’t meet considerable merit. Then there are those who believe the Hall has suddenly become an elitist organization that has set the level of expectations for membership too high. Whatever the case, it is quite obvious that, for too long, the metrics used to decide whether a candidate should be elected have been inconsistent and this, in turn, has only added to the confusion. Obviously, there is more to being worthy than just wearing your heart on your sleeve for twenty-plus seasons; you need to have numbers, honors, and a show of consistency to pad that resume. Yet there are players out there with all that who still find themselves on the outside looking in through locked gates while believing that they have what it takes to be given the key.

Jim Rice, to me, is a perfect example of a former player who is more than deserving of having his plaque alongside the greats of the past. For well over a decade, the former Red Sox great was a constant force at the plate, averaging nearly .304 with 29 home runs and 106 RBI. He also finished in the top five in the AL MVP vote six times during that stretch, winning his only award in 1978 when he stroked 46 home runs and drove in 139 RBI, best in the league that year, while hitting .315 and finishing less than twenty points behind league-leader and future Hall of Fame inductee Rod Carew. Unfortunately, there are two things that seem to hurt Rice; one, that he struggled in his last three seasons at the plate, and two, that he was never a favorite of the writers, who saw him as callous and aloof.

Rice is not the only player that has been mysteriously locked out; Bert Blyleven is another example. The former pitching great finished his career with 287 wins and an ERA of 3.31 and was 5-1 in the post-season with two World Series rings to his credit. He won fifteen or more games in a season ten times and is fifth all-time in strikeouts with 3701. Blyleven’s problem seems to be that he played most of his career for teams that never received much media attention, like Minnesota and Cleveland. Had he pitched in Boston, New York, or Los Angeles, some believe he would be a lock.

There are plenty of other examples, too. Kaat won 283 games as a starter, pitched three seasons in which he won 20 or more games, and collected 16 consecutive Gold Gloves at his position (tied with Hall of Fame great Brooks Robinson for most ever in a row); why is he still not there? Andre Dawson’s career numbers include 2774 hits, 438 home runs, and 1591 RBI, and he collected Rookie of the Year honors, an MVP award, and eight Gold Gloves during his career; why is he still absent? Jack Morris won 15 games or more in 13 seasons and also collected three World Series rings and a World Series MVP award; does he not deserve this distinction?

Nonetheless, the fact remains that there will always be nominees, often times a sentimental favorite, who fail to make the cut; both fortunately and unfortunately, the popularity of a player cannot be the measuring stick to decide if they will get the nod. Often, numbers are thrown around that define whether a candidate is an automatic entry, such as 3000 hits, 500 home runs, and 300 wins; these are all numbers that, of the tens of thousands of players that have put on a major league uniform, only a few have matched in a solid baseball career. So when a player has failed to amass these numbers, then you must dig deeper into his statistics and determine whether he has performed at a level in his career that makes him a worthy candidate.

As someone with a great interest in the history of the game, the Hall of Fame is an embodiment of its remarkable heritage. For a player to have his name preserved for years to come as a representation of baseball excellence is one of the highest accolades in sports; therefore, voters have a responsibility to make these choices based on standards that are evenhanded and constant. Until the Hall begins to demonstrate some consistency and fairness in its selection process, it will be difficult for those outside this circle to understand why some legendary players are still waiting for the call from Cooperstown.

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.