The Sports Beat

The end of a season is usually a tough pill to swallow.  After countless hours “wasted” watching grown men at child’s play, you can’t stomach the thought that the season, and the team you’ve watched over like your seed, is gone.  Curt Flood assured us of this fact.  Your team will not be the same the next year.  Faces, personalities, and abilities all fall with autumn leaves.

I am a devout follower of the religion known as baseball.  Although I’ve always felt strongly about the game that gave us Jackie Robinson and Ted Williams, I was once a Red Sox fan first.  Suffering, as ridiculous as it is to call not winning a World Series as such, was my makeup.  I could take it, because I had to.  With the end of every season, none more harsh than that of 2003, I steadied myself with the knowledge that in the spring the newly formed Red Sox “Nation” would be back stronger than ever, improved and ready to clash with the Empire, or any other foe standing in the way (although there really was no one else keeping us in purgatory).  

And then, 2004 happened. 

After Idiots came back, I became a man, at least in the baseball sense.  I’m now a fan of the game first, with the Sox a close 1A.

In this light, we head to Game 5 at Fenway Park against the team I had kept an eye on for years.  To channel Jim Morrison, Tampa Bay had the guns but we had the numbers.  Or at least until Daisuke Matsuzaka took the mound Thursday evening down the street from Kenmore Square.

Homer after homer sailed over the Green Monster, deflating a crowd that had been pumped past its suggested PSI. 

Down 5-0, with the departure of the least-enthralling good pitcher I’ve ever watched, I decided it was time to take a break and tune in to The Office.  After a fantastic half hour of Steve Carrell’s awkwardness, we tuned back in to the slaughter of the Sox, one that was looking bloodier than Curt Schilling’s celebrity stocking, more out of duty than desire.

You stay loyal above all else.  See it through to the end. 

As my roommate had predicted, Manny Delcarmen had spotted Tampa an additional two runs of insurance–and quality stuff, no AIG accepted in Florida.  It was all over.  The only question was whether or not we could muster a run and avoid a shutout before they shovelled dirt over our eyes.  Or so we thought.

A break here, a smart play there, an eruption from Papi’s eerily silent bat, and another J.D. Drew post-season resurrection later, it had happened.  The game was back on, and so was the season.

Down 7-0 with two outs in the bottom of the 7th, the Boston Red Sox had come back. 

Perplexed, I watched with equal parts disbelief and fear.  I had already moved on, and here she was, my ex-love, wooing me back.  It couldn’t possibly end well, but foolishly I had hitched myself back to my love.  Perhaps it was shadenfreude, but I couldn’t look away.

At 12:16 am on October 17th I remembered why I watch.

We spend our time and money hoping special athletes who may or may not be special people (and trust me, several of your favorite players are far from that) will give us the feeling that overtook us when we were young. That’s what sports is all about–the reclamation of our youthful exuberance. 

In the opening lines of Friday morning I felt the way I did in 2003 when Derek Lowe threw the greatest two-seam fastball I had ever seen to an unsuspecting Terence Long.

After J.D. Drew hit a line drive that sailed over the head of Tampa Bay’s Gabe Gross, silent screams in the depth of night mixed with leaps of immeasurable height had me feeling 17 again.

First of all, this ALCS thing is not over.  It’s almost over, but still, not yet.

Anyway, now that we’ve got our unlikely caveat out of the way, let’s look to the offseason.

I’ve got some simple plans to alter this team and make it even better than this year (95 wins and a trip to the second round is nothing to scoff at, especially with so many health issues).

In rapid succession, here it is:

• Get rid of Heidi Watney and Jason Varitek.  Notice their juxtaposition.  I’ll not go any further, but yeah, both really must go.  It’s been a great run for Tek, but his time has come to head to yellower pastures.  He simply has lost it, and as much as I’d love to see him rebound, seeing as he’ll turn 37 on April 11th, he’s as likely to do so as was Spud Webb.
• Turn Mike Timlin into the assistant bullpen coach.  His value lies in the wisdom he dispenses on subjects such as sitting around doing nothing, pirates, and playing the drums on the bullpen dugout with pirate swords.  Perfect.  Oh, and he shouldn’t even pitch BP anymore, because our team will be shocked when it can’t hit every pitch out in real games if he does.
• Say goodbye to Tim Wakefield and his personal catcher-to-be-named-later.  It’s not that this hasn’t worked in the past with Tek in his peak or near peak and a typical Wakefield season, but I’m disliking it more and more.  Wake’s performance has become a little iffier with his oncoming age–injuries and a lack of strength at the end of the season have come to lower his value despite a nice contract–and having to have a backup who can catch one specific pitch above all else will be difficult to stomach like food for Nicole Richie when we might have a battle for the number one spot on our hands in 2009.
• Next, work the kids in even more.  Send Justin Masterson back as the fifth starter, using him from the ‘pen until his rotation spot is needed later in April or May in order to limit his innings, and then switch him back to power set-up man should circumstances permit/warrant come September/October.
• In turn, give Clay Buchholz a full season as our number four.  I really don’t think we can give up on a talent like the laptop thief before he hits us over the head with failure like Daniel Cabrera until we go unconscious.  Buchholz still has what it takes to provide us with one of poker’s most improbable hands alongside Beckett, Lester, and Daisuke (not quad aces, three aces and a queen in Matsuzaka, actually).  If it all works as hoped, we’ll have five phenomenal starters and be in perfect shape for the postseason with a strong bullpen.
• Additionally, the bullpen will feature more young arms.  Daniel Bard and Michael Bowden could earn shots, as could other youngsters such as Bryce Cox.  Jeff Bailey (although not young) and Chris Carter should see some part-time employment, while Dusty Brown and George Kottaras throw their hats into the ring for catching jobs in Boston.
• Next, jettison Julio Lugo.  He could act as an insurance policy a la Coco Crisp, but I doubt management wants to deal with a shortstop controversy or the distraction of Lugo wanting to play everyday even should Lowrie post impressive numbers.  Pay whatever it takes, cut your losses, aim for a low minors prospect or a potential bullpen arm.
• Find our next rock behind the plate.  Be creative–we’ve got some arms (especially Bowden, whom I’m not a big believer in as a starter in the AL East) to deal and it would make sense to trade in a couple for a young catcher.  Jarrod Saltalamacchia has been rumored for a few years; other names will certainly be bandied about.  I’ll leave the specifics up to Theo and staff, but the general concept should be followed if possible.
• Give Lars Anderson, one of the top first base prospects in the minors, at least a cup of coffee.  He’ll likely be up at first base in 2011, with Kevin Youkilis sliding over to third replacing the freshly departed Mike Lowell, so let’s see if we can’t give him a little time to get acclimated.  The same goes for Josh Reddick (assuming he’s ready, which might be a bit of an assumption) if for some reason J.D. Drew should go down (about as likely as a man winning the Presidency this year).

Given all these moves, the team will have officially changed over from its 2004-2007 version to its next generation, the one that should contend for 5-7 years running.  Power arms, plus defense, and reasonable contracts galore–sounds a lot like Tampa Bay, huh?