Bambino's Curse

½, 23, 9

A lead, a streak, a complete game. Most excellent.

So is The Bad New Bears the best baseball movie ever made? Critically acclaimed writer/filmmaker Ethan Coen thinks so, and maybe he's right? I'm not sure because the only detail I can remember about this 1976 film is that when I saw it, I had the 12 year old sweats for starlet Tatum O'Neal playing the junk ball hurling Amanda Whurlitzer. Yeah, I was all for allowing girls to play Little League after seeing that film a couple dozen times.

In other news, it looks like I'll be able to unveil an interesting twist of fate regarding Bambino's Curse during the coming week. Stay tuned.

Thanks again for all the "get well" sentiments regarding the dog Butch. If you didn't read it in the comments yesterday, it appears he has Lyme disease, but he should be fine in a couple of days when the antibiotics start to kick in. It's much easier to cure in dogs than in humans. Of course. I'm doing twice daily checks on myself now looking for strange rashes. Ticks have been a real nuisance this wet spring.

Dog to go on DL

Short post today as my dog, Butch [pictured below] is not doing too well and I have to take him to the vet ASAP this morning.

Yeah, he's not himself. Doesn't want to watch TV or talk on the phone. Seriously, he's gone lame and I'm praying he hasn't pulled a ligament or torn an ACL or something. Like muscle bound human athletes, it's not uncommon for his breed to suffer such ailments. He's all muscle (without steroids I might add unlike … well, let's not go there today). At this point he can't even climb stairs, pretty sad for a dog who can leap a 6ft fence like it isn't there.

By the way if you're looking for a Red Sox connection here, the dog's full name is Butch Huskee. You may recognize the name, though I altered the spelling. When my wife and I first started dating, the first Red Sox game I convinced her to watch with me was one of Butch Huskey's first games for the Sox and he belted a grand slam.

"The Voice Is a Mirror of the Body."

The Red Sox loss to the Yankees at Fenway last night is easier than normal for me to swallow for two reasons: The Red Sox, especially Wakefield, played well and Curt Gowdy was in the ESPN booth with Joe Morgan and Chris Berman.

I had forgotten how much I love Curt Gowdy. He IS the omniscient voice of baseball in my head, the voice God himself would use to call a game. Listening to Gowdy last night on ESPN 2, I am ten years old again on a summer Saturday afternoon, my dad is stretched on the couch, fans whirr in the background, and on our new and first color tube is Fenway Park, so green I want to reach out and taste it, and filling in the spaces between is the voice of Curt Gowdy.

What a voice. If you grew up listening to Gowdy it's a voice you'll never ever forget.

I'm at the airport. Go to the counter. The guy working behind it has his head down because he's looking at the computer. I'll say, "Is flight 754 on time?" And before he even looks up, he'll say, "Curt Gowdy! How are you?" (Fussman, Esquire).

Gosh, even at 83 years old he ran circles last night around Berman. Well, I take that back. It's not necessarily that he came across as more knowledgeable of the game, just more natural, easy, more reflective of what it feels like (or the way I want it to feel like) watching a game. This is the total opposite of listening to guys like Berman who don't really sound like they are enjoying the game so much as enjoying hearing themselves talk. I always feel like Berman is in a constant mental brain cramp trying to come up with the perfect expression or great turn of phrase. He gives me the sense that the game exists merely as a stage for his performance. And I shouldn't single out Berman, as this is the feeling I get from most the "modern" broadcasters, though Berman is the best example.

While Berman et al make me feel anxious and uptight, Gowdy puts me into a deep trance. My very breaths become the ebb and flow of the game.

The other notable thing that sets Gowdy apart from today's TV broadcasters is he doesn't come across as mean. He can be honest, direct, critical and judgmental, but it's not mean spirited, just honest to goodness truth here it is. Case in point, did you hear the way Gowdy recounted Trot Nixon's blunder from last Saturday? He sounded bemused, not forgiving or making light of it, but everything in his tone suggested that it's a game and life will go on.

When listening to Gowdy there is always the awareness that there are hundreds of thousands of innings already played and hundreds of thousands more to play. I think that is what they call transcendence. It's certainly what I feel listing to him announce a game.

I hope Mr. Curt Gowdy will honor us fans with a few more innings this year.

Shiny Happy People

Nothing like having something to smile about.

  AL.East...........W...L...Pct....GB
  Boston...........28..17...622....--
  New.York.........28..17...622....--

Did you think the standings would look like that this morning when you found out Pedro was scratched and Bruce Chen was filling in as an "emergency starter"?

If you did, then I tip my cap to you, friend. Honestly, though, I didn't go into as bad a panic as I could have. My initial thought was wishing I could be privy to what was going on in Theo Epstein's mind.

Was he thinking, "Oh, s***! This is all we need"? Or was he thinking, "Trust the force. I brought in Chen for a reason. No worries."?

We'll never know. But we do know the Red Sox pulled off one heck of a come from behind win, much to the dismay of some Yankees fans who were licking their chops upon finding out that Pedro was pulled.

"Sometimes when you have a guy like Pedro on the mound, you kind of take it for granted that he can go out there and put up zeros all the way through and then your offense doesn't really get on track," Damon said. "We knew we had to go out there and score runs and that's exactly what we did" (Hohler, Globe).

Did you ever, Johnny, did you ever. And Red Sox fans everywhere are smiling ear to ear this morning because of it.

Bet Your Bottom Dollar

I remain cautiously optimistic still. Fossum maybe let the bright lights big city dazzle him a bit in the first, but he seemed to get it out of his system, pitching well after surrendering the five runs in the top of the first. Better to flub it up in May than in September, don't you think?

As it goes, I actually missed all five runs. It took me forever to get logged into MLB.com for the feed. I was never able to get the TV gamecast (despite getting spammed my them in email all day promoting the game on MLB.TV), and even the audio took a half dozen tries before I got in. When I did the Red Sox were down five zip and it was still top of the first.

In the solipsistic haze that is my fan life, I remain proud of the fact that I never once gave up hope that the Red Sox would come back. Yeah, these are the Yankees, but, you know what? I'm not scared of them like I have been in the past.

Oh, but I must come clean, too. It doesn't take the Delphic Oracle to predict that it was highly unlikely the Yankees would drop four in a row, especially after getting swept by Texas. I said as much in an email exchange with Alex of Bronx Banter which he recounts this morning. Funny thing is I was going to use the same email exchange to lead into my post this morning, but Alex beat me to it. Imagine that. The Yankees blogger crosses the plate before the Red Sox blogger. Harumph! Can't complain, really, as Alex gives continual props to Bambino's and isn't one of those obnoxious Yankees fans … So far, at least, heh heh.

Speaking of Yankees fans, where the heck is our frequent Bronx commentator LUIS been lately?

The best part of this rivalry for me is the back and forth between fans. It's fantastic how the Web and blogs makes it so much easier for us all to cross paths. It's like the blogosphere is a virtual subway we all ride to work in the morning while we represent for the red and the blue.

Pedro tonight, the one who can clear away the cobwebs and the sorrows 'til there's none.

Yes sirree, yes sirree, yes sirree.

Meanwhile, if you've ever been discouraged by going through the archives at here or any other blog and finding that the links to stories in the Globe, Herald et al no longer work, read Doc Searls column on what he calls printwashing:

The bottom line: In the age of the Web, the practice of charging for access to digital archives is a colossal anachronism. It's time for The New York Times and the other papers to step forward, join the real world and correct the problem. Expose the archives. Give them permanent URLs. Let in the bots. Let their writers, and their reputations, accept the credit they are constantly given and truly deserve.

It's time for big media to step into the new millennium. I'm not going to hold my breath, though. The Boston Globe, for instance, has what they call a "sports blog," but they fail to understand that a big part of what makes a weblog (aka "blog") a weblog are the permalinks. And there's has none, probably for the same reason they don't keep their archives available forever and for free.

And All Is Right With the World

* AL EAST STANDINGS

  AL.East...........W...L...Pct....GB
  Boston...........27..16...628...---
  New.York.........27..16...628...---

Every so often we are blessed with moments of complete perfection and bliss: Red Sox and Yankees tied for first place as they meet for the first time of the year tonight at Fenway. (Even Shaughnessy is happy today.)

'Scuse me while I kiss the sky…

In other feel good news, while I'm becoming blase with the ubiquitous story about the new seats on the Wall, this morning's variation on the theme from The Washington Post provides my favorite quote of the year thus far:

"I consider this place [Fenway] a cathedral. Well, it's like they added three more pews." -- Texas Rangers Manager Buck Showalter upon seeing the seats for the first time this season.

"Gloria in excelsis…"

Egad

Well, I guess I deserve the mental beating I took yesterday watching the Red Sox in the 8th and 9th innings after all the writing I've done waxing on positive vibrations and mistakes will happen themes over the past couple of weeks.

Yesterday afternoon, I was reminded of just how … What is the word you choose to describe being a Red Sox watching it all fall asunder? Bizarre? Cruel? Cursed? Ridiculous? Unbelievable? Sad? Angry? Forlorn?

All of the above?

People talk of six degrees of separation, but watching the late innings yesterday I was reminded how little separation there is at any given moment in a Red Sox game and all that infamy that has transpired over the years of my own Red Sox fan life. A single twitch upon the thread of one thing leading to another and it's Game 6 1986 all over again.

Maybe it's part of the grand scheme of things to have these reminders? Maybe it's fateful to commit these sorts of mind numbing gaffes early in the year rather than later? (My thinking here is that Trot Nixon will never make such a mistake again? And Mueller doesn't drop a routine fly in foul territory again?)

Despite the cliche, this really is a game to just put behind us. A loss is a loss no matter the tragic way events unfolded to make it so.

I just have two quick parting observations.

What would it be like if it had been Manny rather than Trot Nixon who tossed the ball into the stands with only 2 outs rather than 3? I can only imagine the fan and media furor calling for his head. And what if Carl Everett had made the mental error?

Something tells me the level of scrutiny would be turned up to 11 on a scale of 10. Interesting, too, that even in scolding Nixon, the press can't help but take a swipe at Ramirez:

To his credit, Nixon didn't emulate silent stars Manny Ramirez and Pedro Martinez and decide it was time to shut out the media. He was sitting at his locker, waiting for the media first thing.

Nixon answered every question, didn't duck responsibility, and went through the agonizing tale for two separate waves of reporters.…(Guregian, Herald).

Read into it what you will.

And, finally, what is up with the fan stupidity? I'm not at all shielding the Red Sox players from their responsibility in committing the errors, but, my gosh — How can Boston fans continue to make the dubious claim of being the smartest, most game savvy fans in baseball when they do things like reach out from their front row seats (seats any fan would drool to have) and make attempts to interfere with play when the game is on line?

And what about the kids who pleaded with Nixon to toss them the ball with only two outs? OK. I'll cut them some slack, though, I tell you what: If that had been me, my dad (or whomever those older adult males were the boys) would not have been on his cell phone full of smiles calling god knows whom smiling and laughing as he recounted his role in one the most memorable Red Sox blunders in recent memory as I saw those "fans" doing, with their Red Sox caps on, in front of a national TV audience.

Did you see that? Were you not ashamed and embarrassed? I was. I still am. Is this what being a Red Sox fan has become, a chit chat session on a cell phone all smiles that your team is losing and you had a role in it?

Sad. Really, sad.