Tag Archives: red sox

Baseball, Politics Schmolitics

Red Sox Nation Dooms Us to Idiocracy

scottbrown.jpgRepublican Scott Brown has triumphed in the Massachusetts Senate race, and Democrat Martha Coakley has failed. Among many factors in Coakley’s defeat was her Red Sox-related gaffe last week, when she erroneously identified Curt Schilling as a Yankees fan. In the Bay State, where the Sawx are held much more sacred than any other institution, that was a huge mistake.

I don’t know if anyone’s choice of candidate was actually influenced by this specific misstep. By all accounts, she ran a spectacularly inept campaign. The Schilling goof was simply indicative of the laziness she exhibited throughout her Senate run, which was actually more of a sleepwalk.

But if anyone, in all seriousness, did not vote for her because she didn’t know enough about the Red Sox, go get hit by garbage truck. And then catch on fire. And then get hit by a garbage truck on fire. I hate you so god damn much right now.

What’s more important, folks: the fact that your Senator knows all about The Bloody Sock, or the fact that your Senator will send a death knell to any hope of reform and change for at least the next two years?

I love the Mets. I think about them and write about them and worry about them way beyond the point I should for something that has no direct bearing on my happiness and well being. One of the big reasons I’ve never liked Rudy Giuliani is because he’s the epitome of the obnoxious, blowhard Yankee fan (being a crypto-fascist made it easy to hate him, too).

However, if there was a candidate who was exactly the same as Rudy in his fandom but the exact opposite politically, versus a guy who was a diehard Mets fan but Giuliani-esque in his world view, I’d vote for the Yankee fan in a second. BECAUSE SPORTS ARE DUMB GAMES AND POLITICS CAN FUCK YOUR LIFE UP FOR DECADES.

If nothing else, hopefully this incident wakes lefties out of the torpor that’s set on them in record time. Yes, Obama hasn’t done everything we wanted. Yes, he has been slow to act in certain respects (most infuriatingly, on gay rights). Yes, even before Brown’s election, the health care reform bill was less than ideal. Yes, there are still mounds of problems in this country that have yet to even plateau.

But if I may return to baseball for a minute, you almost have to think of Obama in 2010 as Jackie Robinson in 1947. There are too many people for whom the mere idea of a black man being in the national spotlight is too much to bear. Obama can’t be as aggressive or fiery as some people would like, because there’s too many people waiting for him to lose his temper, do something rash, and fail his way out of the Oval Office.

Like when Joe Wilson yelled LIAR at him during a Congressional address. Why did Wilson do that–because he’s a nut? Yes, but also because he hoped Obama would fly off the handle and yell at him, thus alienating half the country ready to think of him as a Scary Black Man. So even though Wilson thoroughly deserved to be punched in the mouth, Obama kept his cool because that was ultimately more important than the immediate desire for retribution.

Obama needs to weather the storm of his first few years and prove to The Haters that he knows what he’s doing and that him being in power isn’t the nightmare they think it is (or want it to be). It’s totally unfair, but it wouldn’t be the first time a black man had to work harder than his white counterparts just gain some respect. And after this “trial period”, like Robinson, he can start fighting back against the Ben Chapmans of the world and slide in spikes up.

Ask yourself this: Looking at the Sarah Palins and the Glenn Becks and the Bill O’Reillys (a fascist Mets fan) of the world–who are clearly at the vanguard of the Republican party–do you really think there’s no difference between Dems and the GOP? I’m not the biggest fan of the two-party system. But for right now, today, what’s our best hope for rising out of the shit eight years of Bush dumped us in–Obama’s slower-than-you’d-like agenda, or the Republicans’ obstructionist paleoconservative nihilistic non-agenda?

Thumbnail image for 99_ventura_schilling.pngOh, and Curt Schilling? Go get fucked sideways with rusty rake.

1999 Project

1999 Project: Games 60-62

Click here for an intro/manifesto on The 1999 Project.

June 11, 1999: Red Sox 3, Mets 2 (12)

tedwilliamsnight.jpgFour wins a row had improved the Mets’ spirits, but controversy hadn’t left them entirely. In his second go-around with the Mets, Bobby Bonilla proved to be just as much of a problem as in his first. The outfielder refused to pinch-hit during the middle game of the series against the Blue Jays, earning him six days’ of riding the pine (even though the team initially said insubordination was not a factor for his absence in the lineup). Steve Phillips told reporters that all options were on the table, including releasing Bonilla outright, but no move was imminent.

This also coincided with Bobby Valentine receiving a two-game suspension and $5,000 fine for his costumed antics during the Toronto series. The manager appealed the ruling, but expressed no remorse: “It was a mistake, but for a moment the emotions of a group of tight people, it was a break, and for me too.”

Amidst this continuing circus, the Mets welcomed the Red Sox to Shea and curiously celebrated Ted Williams Night to mark the 60th anniversary of his rookie season. Not that the Splendid Splinter didn’t deserve a tribute, but it seemed an odd event considering Williams was never associated with the Mets in any way (unless one counts Mike Piazza receiving batting tips from Williams as a teenager, thanks to Piazza Family chum and a friend of Ted’s, Tommy Lasorda).

In the “Shuttle Series” opener, the Mets could do little against starter Brian Rose, lodging only three hits in his seven innings of work. Boston scratched out runs in the second and third against Masato Yoshii, and that looked to be enough as the Mets batted in the ninth down 2-0. But Jon Olerud led off the inning with a single off of Sox closer Tom Gordon, then Piazza belted a homer into the left field bleachers to tie the game.

But the Mets couldn’t complete the comeback. After two good innings of relief from Armando Benitez, things unraveled for John Franco in the twelfth. Pinch hitter Damon Buford led off with a single, then went all the way to third on an attempted steal when Piazza’s throw zipped into the outfield. The Mets got a break when Jose Offerman hit a grounder to shortstop Luis Lopez, and Buford was tagged out in a rundown, but Offerman took second as Buford was chased around the bases.

John Valentin was up next, and Valentine contemplated walking him to bring up the lefty-hitting catcher Brian Daubach. He decided against this move and immediately regretted it, as Valentin laced a single into left field that Benny Agbayani (who pinch hit in the eighth and stayed in the game) overran, thus removing any chance of a play at the plate. The Mets went quietly in the bottom half and Franco took the loss, his tenth in as many decisions.

As a footnote, despite his benching, Bonilla pinch hit in the eighth and was greeted with boos. His solid single briefly silenced the hostile crowd. The Daily News noted that, despite their reported clashes, Valentine and Bonilla high fived when he was removed for a pinch runner.

June 12, 1999: Mets 4, Red Sox 2

As he did in his previous start against the Yankees, Al Leiter held the Red Sox to two runs over seven innings. The lefty kept the Sox completely off the board until the seventh, when Boston strung together three two-out hits to plate two runs and cut the lead to one run. But Olerud homered in the eighth to give the Mets some breathing room, and Franco rebounded from the sloppy outing of the night before to earn his fifteenth save of the year.

Almost as important as Leiter’s solid outing was Agbayani’s fruitful return to the starting lineup. His two-run homer in the third put the Mets on the board and gave them a lead they would never relinquish.

With Bonilla’s struggles–on field and otherwise–Agbayani had more than filled the void, belting nine homers in a ridiculously short amount of time. Already, the portly Hawaiian had become something of a fan favorite. “It’s never happened to me in my whole life, the fans being behind methe way they are,” he told the Daily News. “I just hope that when I’m not doing as well they keep cheering me on.”

June 13, 1999: Mets 5, Red Sox 4

The Mets’ bullpen had been taxed a bit in recent games, and neither Benitez nor Franco were available after working several games in a row. So it would have helped if Orel Hershiser could pitch deep into this game, something he had been unable to do with any regularity.

Hershiser did his best in this contest, giving up two runs in the first six innings. Bolstered by homers by Agbayani and Brian McRae, he had a 5-2 lead when he came out to start the seventh. But a walk and a single led to a quick exit before he recorded an out.

With few bullpen options and no ability to play lefty-righty matchups, Valentine went with Dennis Cook. The southpaw allowed both inherited runners to score, but no further damage. Greg McMichael worked around a single and an error to throw a scoreless eighth, and Valentine turned to volatile righty Turk Wendell to get the save.

Wendell got into trouble immediately by giving up a double to Nomar Garciaparra. But rather than bunt the tying run into scoring position, Offerman swung away and popped out to Rey Ordonez. After striking out Jason Varitek on three pitches, Wendell gave up a fly ball to Valentin that almost carried over Agbayani’s head in left, but Benny managed to snag it and seal the victory.

A week earlier, the Mets were mired in an eight-game losing streak. Now they’d won six of their last seven. What had changed? According to Valentine, “What I saw during the losing streak was a group that got angry butdidn’t get down. What I see now is a group that’s determined and trying to get even.”

Rocky Rhodes

Rocky Rhodes: Lowlights for the Highlanders

After losing Tuesday’s series opener at Fenway Park, the Yankees are 0-6 this year against Boston, a mark of futility they hadn’t achieved since before World War I. So I thought it would be instructive to get some perspective on that era from a man who was there: America’s oldest living sports writer, Rocky Rhodes. His weekly sports column, “The Cat’s Pajamas”, still appears in 7000 newspapers nationwide when not bumped for “The Lockhornes Meet Drabble” or “Classic Police Calls”.

rocky.jpgFrankie, my favorite orderly here at the rest home, let me watch SportsCenter in the break room last night (all it cost me were a couple of Vicodins), and I saw that the Yanks had their worst start against the Sox since 1912. I remember that time like it was yesterday, because in my advanced state of dementia, I’m often convinced that it’s still 1912. I also frequently fear that giant squirrels will steal my medicine, but that’s another story.

Back then, the Yankees were still called the Highlanders. That’s because one of their alternate home uniforms had a kilt instead of pants. To this day, the 1912 Highlanders have the lowest steal total for a year: one. That one base was stolen by Frank “Crazy Legs” Doogan, who was immediately rushed to the hospital thereafter with an injury I won’t describe here, though it still haunts my nightmares.

The Highlanders were a colorful bunch. They were always joking around and playing pranks, like hitting each other with cream pies and setting fire to the neighborhood stable. They had guys like Joe “Shaky Lips” Miller. Hans “Vinegar Arm” Schaefer. Steve “Hominy Grits” Jones. Fred “Lackawanna Hoodoo” Smith. Nate “Shoe Stealer” Arden. They also had a great utility player, Luigi Russo, who was known affectionately as “The Fucking Wop”.

Their best pitcher was Mike Hagerty, also known as The Giant Mouse. He loaded up the ball with a special mixture of spit, licorice, tobacco juice, castor oil, and his own blood. It was sure hard to hit, because batters didn’t want to come within ten feet of the mess he put on the ball. One guy hit a homer off of him and was laid up for the rest of the season with hepatitis.

The Highlanders had a patented double-play combo where second baseman Harry “Ol’ Knobby” Hooper would feed the ball to shortstop Billy “Tiny Toes” Tyler for the first out, then Tyler would zip the ball at the head of the guy running to first. Back then, if you were knocked unconscious, regardless of the cause, you were called out.

That’s why so many catchers had mitts made of brick or cinder block. They caused a lot of passed balls, but nothing was better for knocking a runner at the plate out cold. In a few years, though, they had to ban the really hard gloves. So many skull-crushings at the plate slowed down the game, because you had to call the morgue to remove the body, which took forever in the day of the horse-drawn hearse. Not to mention all the grieving widows laying wreathes at the plate and whatnot.

A fun bunch, the Highlanders were, but they were no match for Boston. The team wasn’t known as the Red Sox yet. Sometimes they were called the Beaneaters, sometimes the Pilgrims, sometimes the Ralph Waldo Emersons. Then, the Henry David Thoreaus, or the Nathaniel Hawthornes. That was eventually shortened to a more convenient, catch-all nickname: The Transcendentalist Literature Enthusiasts.

Within a few years, they started wearing crimson stockings, and I referred to them in my column as the “Boston Encarnadine Foot-Coverings”. The name stuck! Albeit in a different and far less unwieldy form.

Boston had some great sluggers, like Bobby “The Robert” Tompkins, who clubbed 8 four-baggers in 1912–and only one of those bombs was cow-assisted! Back then, if the ball was eaten by an animal grazing in the outfield, it was scored a home run. The sports world lost a real star when he was gored by a bull at Briggs Stadium in 1921.

Boston also had Jim “Occasional Lighning” Brady, who hit 45 triples that year. He was an expert at pulling the ball all the way into the left field corner. Then, when the fielders ran after the ball, he would run from first to third in a straight line. He’d usually jump-kick the shortstop on his way there, for good measure.

Was it legal? Absolutely not, but back then nobody played by the rules. That’s what made it so damn fun! Pitchers would lob balls made of dry clay to the plate. Batters used to stand 20 feet from the mound and dare the ump to move them back. It was a like a marvelous chess game, but with a lot more heavy drinking. And punching. And the occasional on-field suicide.

But those days are gone forever, and nothing’s gonna bring them back. Except for my senility-induced time-slippage. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to shoo a giant squirrel away from my Flomax.