There is an underappreciated old movie I enjoy quite a bit. Actually there are quite a few, but this one particular film has been on my mind since last night's game with the Mariners ended the way it did. It's called Khartoum, and it's about an uprising in the Sudan in 1884. Charlton Heston stars as "Chinese" Gordon, a British general leading the defense of Khartoum. The Mahdi, the leader of the Sudanese attacking the city, is played by Laurence Olivier. It's quite good, I highly recommend it.

It is of particular significance to this evening's post because there is a particular scene where the two rivals meet in the Mahdi's tent. The backstory, as simply put as possible, is that a British relief force is slowly marching down the Nile, ostensibly to rescue Gordon. In reality, Prime Minister Gladstone ordered the commander to move slowly, so that Gordon would be forced to flee the city and that British troops would not have to fight in the Sudan. Gordon refused to leave, and sent his deputy to force the advancing force to come more quickly. The Mahdi's forces intercepted and killed the deputy, but the Mahdi sent a fake message to Gordon saying the British army was picking up the pace. Not long after, the Mahdi summoned Gordon to his tent for a conference, where he revealed the ruse.

Believe it or not, this does actually relate to the defeat in Seattle. The Mahdi tells Gordon that the message was fake, and explains why he did it. By the Mahdi's rationale is that if you allow your adversary a few sunny moments of false hope, then he will be utterly devastated when he sees the totality of his defeat looming before him. To make a long story short, that's a bit like what befell the Red Sox yesterday.

Every time Seattle took the lead, the Red Sox tantalized their fans with comeback. Then the Sox would do something dumb. Alex Gonzales managed to flip the ball in Mike Lowell's general direction, which may have been a nice play, provided, of course, that a Seattle baserunner weren't running between them. The throw hit the runner in the back, and turned a potential force play at third base into a run.

Then there was Manny being Manny, sliding every which way but where the ball was. Actually, that's a bit unfair, he did manage to slide into the ball in the seventh. Might have been a nice play, if they went to Seattle to play soccer. Alas, that it had to be baseball.

But the play of the game had to be Coco Crisp's over the top effort to make a circus catch on Beltre's potential home run. Unfortunately, Coco was coco-nuts on the play and the ball bounced off the wall 10 feet behind him. After that came a series of mishaps that would have horrified the Three Stooges. By the way, I feel redeemed from that awful pun, as the Red Sox currently sell t shirts with that dreadful play on words on the front and Crisp #10 on the back. I know. I've seen them. And I am aware that one really ought not write a parenthetical paragraph, but I'm only human. In case you were wondering, Reason # 77 that you ought to know you're a tool but obviously don't realize it, is you are wearing an "I'm Coco Nuts" shirt (apologies to my good friend who was wearing one when I was hanging out with him over the 4th of July, reason # 13 that you are given immunity from tool status is that you hooked the Cincinnati Kid up with a quality cigar).

Manny couldn't/wouldn't/didn't do more to back up his center fielder than point to the ball. Then there was the wild throw that wasn't cut off by Alex Gonzales. By the time Lowell came up with the ball and threw home, it was too late. What should have been a loud out, or maybe a double because it was a reasonably well hit ball, and a lot of things can happen became an inside the park home run because the Red Sox vaunted defense fell asleep at the switch.

And then Jason Varitek stepped to the plate, the captain had the last shot to tie the game. And he took a two out, two strike pitch deep into the right field seats. The Red Sox had their few sunny moments of hope. They had a bit of life. As Tito said, Varitek had a "beautiful swing" at it. And then Richie Sexson reached out and snatched it from their grasp. He hit a walk off homer off of Mike Timlin. I wonder whether that took the jam out of Timlin's doughnut.

It was so stunning in its perfection and timing that it left only me to question why Francona left Timlin in for the ninth inning. Surely after something like the Keystone Kops turn a long fly ball into an inside the park home run a man of even moderate intelligence might have thought that it wasn't Timlin's day. That the stars were aligned against him. That maybe karma was coming for him like that old bat in the car came for Earl Hickey. Not Francona. Not yesterday. Mariners win.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry it's been a while since I last tormented my public. A variety of things have happened which have contributed to my intoxication. For the first time in the history of this blog I am attempting to post a serious entry after a night of drinking beer.
There was not a whole lot to say about the series w/ the Royals. Yes, the Sox swept them, but then again, it was the Royals. I'm sorry too, about the lack of links, but I'm drunk, and too tired for due diligence. Then there was the makeup game against the Rangers. But that is neither here nor there as far as the blog is concerned.

The Sox did manage to lose today, which is nice. It might touch the cockels of my heart, but I realize that I exist in a minority of one in this instance. If I had the time abd the desire, there would be a post or two up that I've been holding back. In the next 2 nights, I will return to eairing my grievances in blog form. Soon enough, I will be back to writing the way I want, so take comfort or gather your patience, and this blog shall be back.

Would that I had more to say on the A's punking the Red Sox this evening, but who can do a beating like that justice? Plus it was my misfortune to run into a cat with a 2004 World Series ring this evening. That coupled with an old friend who told him that I stopped drinking St. Louis beer (Bud/Bud Light) in the wake of the Cardinals collapse in that unfortunate series is enough to put a damper on my enthusiasm. In my defense, I am (and have been since those who know the Cincinnati Kid can remember) a Miller High Life drinker.

The Cardinals awful play is merely one excuse for not drinking St. Louis beer. I have some others, but I will not expend both barrels on Anheiser Busch until I get paid for it. The only reason I'm posting tonight is that I have been alerted to the existence of this site recently. It can take you to this site, which was surprising and disappointing for a brief moment, until one realized that the English and their govt were left behind in the New World.

Go here, and see how short and expensive life can be. I must say I wish I had more to add, but I must disappoint my loyal readers. All I can say is got to the site above, or click on this particular link. Even if it won't find you treasure, it might help you find the missing piece which can make us all soldiers.

It is now about 36 hours after the main portion of this post was composed. I have no idea what the hell I was thinking when I wrote it. I don't know why I made the English government reference. I have no idea what it meant. Nor do I understand where the make us all soldiers bit came from. The original intention with the last link above (which sends you to a site entitled "When Tools Attack") was to make some bad joke about tools attacking failing to include the Red Sox who are, as we all know, giant tools.

It wouldn't have been very funny, so I guess it's just as well that I went the Kellen Winslow II route. It was certainly in poor taste with the unpleasantness overseas, so I apologize. Part of me wanted to delete this post altogether, but in the spirit of honesty and cynicism that are the hallmarks of this blog, I had to leave it up with my apology. This is yet one more from the long list of reasons why one shouldn't drink and blog.

From beer with dinner to White Russians at the bar to more beer on my return, I should never have posted. But I did, and I won't try to save myself the embarassment. I only wish I had the flight data recorder going to help me understand the English in the New World referrence. All I can say in my defense is that at least I wasn't dumb enough to drive that night.

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Believe it or not, I'm not going to dwell too much on the 2nd consecutive game the Red Sox dropped in extra innings. It was a master stroke of strategy for Francona to pinch run Willie Harris in the 9th. While he did manage to get picked off in a botched hit and run (of course we have to blame Francona for that, since it's his call), surely he did it with style and flair that Trot Nixon could not have summoned in that situation. As for Loretta's error, these things happen. Alas, they do not happen enough.

Nor do I have much to say about the All Star game. I watched some of it over at a friend's place. I left early, though. I am one of the many, many people who haven't bought the "This time it counts" line. If it truly counts, then Eric Gagne's consecutive save streak should have stopped after he let up the home run that clinched home field for the AL the first time they tried this foolish experiment.

The MLB All Star game is a giant sham. If you've read even one of my previous entries, you can tell that I like sports (baseball, basketball and football anyway). I watch at least an hour of sports a day. In the fall, I watch maybe 36 hours of football, between college and the pros. And yet Tuesday night, I left my friend's place at 10:30 to hustle home because Things to do in Denver When You're Dead was coming on IFC at 10:45.

For those of you who haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. It's a very underrated movie. And more importantly, it inspires the question: "What happened to Gabrielle Anwar?" She did some excellent work in this film, she was good in the tango scene from Scent of A Woman and she wasn't bad in the Three Musketeers, which wasn't horrible (given the rest of the cast and the Disney production, that's high praise).

But that's another story for another day. What concerns me today is something that might bear looking at. The All Star break is over, the second half of the season begins in earnest today (since some teams had yesterday off). As I look at the MLB landscape, it is the best of times and it is the worst of times. Two careers have experienced a resurgence in the American League's Eastern Division over the last season and the first half of the current campaign. The question before us, as sports fans (and lovers of truth?) is how have these careers emerged from the ashes?

Last season, Jason Giambi won the Viagra MLB Comeback Player of the Year Award. Leaving aside the irony of said award being sponsored by an ED drug, we must look at the issue objectively. Giambi admitted to using illicit performance enhancing drugs. He apologized to the fans, for what he didn't specify at the time but it seemed clear that it was for the steroid use. But he is back now, hitting homers like he used to (although his average isn't that great).

Some people choose to believe that he's clean. Red Sox fans know better. I have been assured by some of the Red Sox fans whom I encounter from time to time (and who know my opinion on their favorite team, but not necessarily that I am the author of this blog) that Giambi is getting around on pitches that he couldn't get to in '04, or even last season. That he's as big as he ever was (whether or not he's as strong is another story). And there can only be one reason. He's on something, steroids, growth hormone, something.

For my part, admitted cynic though I am, I think he's clean. Or more precisely, I hope he's clean. Not because he hurts the Red Sox, and has a very nice habit of hitting big home runs off of Big Schill, but because after his horrific health scare, he'd have to be the dumbest man alive to be back on the juice. And we know he's not the dumbest man alive, because he's not this guy.

Then there's Mike Lowell. If he continues to put up numbers the way he has to this point in the season, he may well win the Comeback Player of the Year for 2006. After all, he has 12 home runs in 84 games for the Sox this season, compared to 8 for the Marlins in 150 games. Does that strike any one as suspicious timing? 2005 was a bad season to have a surprising drop in productivity (Lowell's HR total dropped from 27 in 2004 to 8, that's a big drop). To put this in perspective, I refer you to Tom Verducci's SI piece, in which he mentions that Neifi Perez hit more HRs and out-slugged Lowell last season.

But he's back now, and playing well for the Sox, so he must be fine. Giambi hitting home runs off Schilling can only be steroids, but the change in scenery, and a smaller park can work wonders for a guy's image. After all, it was the big park and a slow start that led Lowell to press last season, but in a better lineup with less pressure, it all came back together. If I didn't do it last week, there'd be a George Strait quote here.

P.S. On another note, Gene Wojciechowski must be stopped. As a Notre Dame fan, and not just because I'm Irish American, or because I jumped the bandwagon, but because I admire legitimate traditions, there must be no talk of national championships in July. And I don't want to hear how awesome Clausen is. Until he proves that he can play at that level and produce consistently, he's not the second coming of Joe Montana. Being a cynic, I have to say that if the bloodline were really that impressive, why isn't a Clausen penciled into the opening day lineup in the NFL? There are 32 teams, and some dreadful quarterbacks (just think Da Bears on this one), but no Clausens. Like Thomas in the Gospel, I'll believe it when I see it.

P.P.S While I was watching the All Star game, my friend and I talked about movies. He has Shawshank in his top five. I refuse to see it. I didn't much enjoy the story when it was called Falconer, and John Cheever wrote it (I am aware of the differences, but the story of the soul of an unjustly imprisoned man is close enough) and it was called Falconer. I won't see Shawshank because too many people have told me it's in their top 5. I don't want to pick on my friend here (I prefer to do it to his face), but I have to question the rationale behind someone (and he's not the only one I've noticed doing this) making a top 5 films list when they have yet to see (among others) The Magnificent Seven, The Great Escape, The Maltese Falcon, It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (which was so funny that it was even kind of funny when they remade it as Rat Race), Citizen Kane and a whole host of other movies that should be considered among the all time greats.

P.P.P.S I hate postscripts, and yet I write them. I had these three things to post, and this was the best way I thought of to do it. This is the last. I hope you enjoyed this post and this blog as much as I enjoyed writing it. This could very well be my last entry. I don't know how long it might take, but I fully expect zombie Charles Dickens to rise from Westminster Abbey and come looking for me after the Tale of Two Cities allusion above. I had a pretty good run, all things considered.

So the All Star Break is upon us now. The Red Sox are riding in with some momentum, having won 2 of 3 from the Real Sox in Chicago. Yesterday's never ending game could be one a momentum crusher though. It's not every day that I get to see the Red Sox surrender the lead 3 times in one game. Of course 19 inning games aren't exactly a common occurrence for that matter.

Things were looking bleak for me, a couple of days after I started referring to the White Sox as the "Real Sox" they have to go and lose the first two games of the series to my mortal enemies in their own park. I just have that kind of timing. But one doesn't watch the team he hates above all others win the championship in 2004 without developing coping skills, like the ability to find the negative in everybody else's good time.

So I was ready for this post, even if Papelbon didn't come up big with a split that didn't split with 2 outs and a 1 run lead. It was his 3rd blown save of the year, and the first time he'd allowed a run on the road. The good thing about that is from here on the games get bigger as the playoffs approach. Papelbon was up for the stretch run last season, and he did appear in two playoff games, so he has some experience. The question is: "Will he be able to bear up under the strain of closing big games in a pennant race?"

As you might expect, I'm hoping that he won't hold up under the strain. I wonder too, what might happen to his psyche if he blows a few big games and finds out for himself exactly how fickle Red Sox Nation can be. I wasn't very impressed with this analysis of the home run Jermaine Dye hit off him last night:

``I threw it really lackadaisical," Papelbon said. ``He hadn't seen my split the day before. I wanted to throw him something to where he would look at and not swing at, but it caught the middle of the plate.

``At the same time, he hasn't seen my split, and even though it wasn't a good one, you've got to give him credit for keeping that ball fair, one, and taking it out of the park. He was smokin' hot, on fire, between last night and today."

Never having faced the media after blowing a save, I can't really say that I'd carry myself better than Papelbon did. That said, I think he could probably have come up with something that didn't come off as petulant as that excerpt from the Globe story on the game.

He is a bit young. For his sake, I hope he learns that he shouldn't throw lackadaisical pitches with two outs in the bottom of the ninth when trying to protect a one run lead. For my sake, I hope he keeps throwing pitches like that. There is also the chance that his honeymoon with Red Sox Nation might come to a bitter end if he keeps throwing lackadaisical pitches in big situations.
Over the weekend, I watched Gladiator again. Aside from the fact that it might be the best movie of the last ten years, it's also full of amazing scenes, from the battles to the scene where Proximo grabs the slave trader by the junk and yells at him for selling queer giraffes. As I watched the Battle of Carthage reenactment, I realized that Joaquin Phoenix playing Commodus is Mark Cuban. Watch it again, look at the way Commodus reacts to the sword thrusts, it's just like Cuban reeling and flailing when Dirk Nowitzki fails to kick 4th quarter ass (to quote Jason Whitlock).

I wonder now, whether the Benefactor sits in his office reviewing game tapes before sending them off to the league office watching Dwyane Wade driving through the defense and looks at Avery Johnson saying something like: "Why wasn't this called a charge. It vexes me that this wasn't an offensive foul. I'm terribly vexed." Does he sit in his chair at league meetings twirling a sword on the floor like Commodus did in his first meeting with the Senate? Would Mark Cuban make Stu Jackson embrace someone dying of plague?

If Mark Cuban is Commodus, and Bill Simmons is his new hero, does that make the Sports Guy Cuban's version of the loyal senator who tells the story about the sea snake that lets its enemies take bites out of it?

I feel that it is my duty to point out that I am not the first person to make this comparison. Here's what I assume is a representative sample of the people who've thought of this before I did. I thought I had something original here, but it was funny enough to roll out anyway. Or so I thought.

After tonight's unfortunate 9th inning, I find myself with very little to say on the finale of the series with the Red Sox. I do not find myself feeling humbled after my earlier statements, what with the fact that the lowly D-Rays did manage to take 3 of 4 from the mighty Red Sox. Perhaps the Red Sox might have a bit more difficulty with the teams they face from here on out than they did with the NL East.

Two things caught my eye in my reading before bed, which is what prompted this unprecedented third post in one day.

First, was this gem from the NY Times. It has absolutely nothing to do with the Red Sox, baseball or sports in general. But I thought it was worth reading. If I were the husband described in this piece, I would be more than a little upset that this made it into the "paper of record," but that's just me. As a disclaimer, I should note that I am single, so I have no idea what it takes to make a marriage work. I do know from a series of failed interpersonal relationships what makes one go tragically wrong, and sometimes spectacularly wrong. I just think this guy is a loser. Also I wonder how this particular piece fits into the "all the news that's fit to print" mentality of the Grey Lady.

Then there's the Letters to the Editor page of today's Globe. I really don't know how this particular letter, from some tool in Wellesley made the cut to be published by a major metropolitan newspaper. So the guy saw a monarch butterfly on a growth of milkweed in Yawkey Station. And his communion with the natural world set a nice counterpoint to the harsh, apathetic crowd of Red Sox fans who were ignorant of a mystery of life unfolding in their midst. Ordinarily, I am in favor of any avenue to criticize Red Sox Nation, but the world is a big a complex place, not every one has the time to look at butterflies. Nor is it some red badge of courage to point out that you have the sensibilities to appreciate both baseball and a butterfly.

I really don't like posting twice on the same day. It provides yet one more conformation that I have no life. When I saw that LeBron had yet to agree on the extension with Cleveland I just had to get something up on that topic. I'm also sorry that I didn't provide many links for my wild speculations. It was just something that occurred to me, and I thought I should run with it. I think I might just be the first guy to get anything on the possibility (albeit a very slim one at best) that LeBron could one day wear a Celtics uniform.

This post has been in the works since last night, and now that we've put basketball aside for the moment, I can return to attacking the Red Sox for an evening (which is, after all, the stated purpose of this site). This has been quite a series down in Tampa. The local nine have dropped three straight to the lowly Devil Rays. Bob Ryan says it's too early to panic, and he's right. But it still has to hurt a bit, especially when someone like me throws a little salt in the wound.

The Devil Rays may be better than you think. Weird things can happen in the course of a long season like the catch Crawford made against Youkilis last night. But the Red Sox were red hot, winning 15 of 16 before they came to Tampa. They had, prior to this series, lost 4 of their last 6 in Tampa. But the Devil Rays are a last place team. Unless of course they win tonight and the Orioles lose to the White Sox (or as they'll be called on this site henceforth, the Real Sox).

The Sox seemed like they had good reason to feel optimistic entering this series, with Josh Beckett starting the first game and Schilling starting game 2. I bet no one would have thought that the last line of defense against a Tampa Bay sweep would be Tim Wakefield. Of course, no one expected that the mighty Red Sox lineup would be 2 hit by Scott Kazmir. Or that Big Schill would allow 3 home runs. But these things happen.

As for Big Schill himself, I'm still waiting for his response to Mitch Williams. I hate to link to the androidsdungeon so soon after the whole Dr. Who episode, but it was the first place where I found the reference to Mitch Williams calling Schilling out. Quite literally. After the blown save that blew the 1993 World Series, Wild Thing took issue with comments Big Schill made. According to him, Big Schill had best borrow some guts and meet the Wild Thing outside. I am not commenting on the truth of this story, necessarily. I like to take things like this with a grain of salt. I just bring it up to be a thorn in the side of Red Sox fans. And, lest we forget, they say a charge not answered is a charge believed. For what that's worth...

Carl Crawford quite literally stole the show last night. It's not every day that you see a guy steal home. In fact, it hasn't happened to the Sox since 2000. It was such big news, it even made it into a nice little featurette in the KC Star, where Crawford revealed that no one had pitched from the windup with him on 3rd base until Schilling did it 2 nights ago. Then Jason Johnson, he of the notorious ability to lose games, did it. The rest, as they say, is history.

Then there was the wacky play where Crawford caught a ball that Kevin Youkilis hit off a catwalk in the outfield (see the bottom of this piece for "keen" analysis). The Greek God of Walks screamed bloody murder that he should not have been called out. Unfortunately, according to the ground rules, he was out. Francona called it "putt-putt golf stuff" and said it had no place in baseball. I disagree. Crawford made one hell of a play on that ball. To break back and catch a ball fading away from you after it hit a catwalk is worthy of an out.

And for all you Red Sox fans, before you agree with Francona and lobby for rules changes in Tampa, ask yourself whether or not you'd agree with Carl Crawford being called out had it been him at the plate and Manny Ramirez made a catch like that in left field. From time to time, a little intellectual honesty is good for the soul (for those few Red Sox fans that have one). I doubt you'd rally for justice had the shoe been on the other foot.

Meanwhile, I address my parting shot at Kevin Youkilis. In a somewhat ironic gesture, he threw a tantrum at the call. Without the field being miked, it seems that he may have done a bit more to get himself ejected than Jorge Cantu did, but that's neither here nor there. Of late at Fenway, Youke has been coming to bat to the dulcet and underplayed tones of "Jump Around" by House of Pain. And, work with me here Red Sox fans (I'll try to use simple words and write slowly, lest you think too hard and sprain something), here's where we reach the ironic part.

In the intricately composed opus with which Youkilis gets himself in the hitting zone, there is this line: "I ain't goin' out like no punk b----." In my way of thinking that is ironic, since that is exactly how he went out after that call.

This is just a quick postscript to last night's effort. A longer post on the Devil Rays recent rejuvenation will be forthcoming tonight, maybe tomorrow.

There is a big question looming in the minds of Cleveland fans. And it's not "Theo Epstein gave up cash or a player to be named later for Jason Johnson????" Aside from the fact that America's Prom Date is slipping, the real question is: "What is LeBron's future in Cleveland?"

The other big stars who came out of the 2003 draft like Dwyane Wade, Carmelo Anthony and Chris Bosch have all indicated that they would extend their contracts 5 years for the maximum salary allowed by the bargaining agreement ($80 million dollars). None of them have signed yet because the NBA rules prohibit them from signing until July 12. But LeBron hasn't said a word yet. He does have a pretty large window of opportunity (July 12-October 1) in which to make his decision.

But it still begs the question, what will happen if LeBron didn't sign? King James isn't eligible for free agency until after the upcoming season, but can the Cavs afford to keep him for a year and have him walk away after the season. I don't see how you can trade LeBron and get even 75 cents on the dollar in return, but you can't let a guy like that walk and get nothing for him.

This question is of interest for two reasons. Number one, is there a possibility that the Celtics could acquire him? And number two, if LeBron is dealt from the Cavs this offseason, where does that leave that team. The first question is the most intriguing, but the second is the most important as it is, at post time the more realistic of the possibilities.

But first things first. I don't see the Celtics being able to acquire LeBron James. To do so, they would almost certainly have to give up Pierce and one, maybe two of their promising young players. Plus the amount of money under the salary cap and the insanely complex economics of the NBA would make a two team deal nearly impossible. If you click on Pierce's name up above, you'll go to his player page on realGM.com, and you'll find that he's the 16th highest paid player in the NBA. Good luck dealing him, or acquiring a legit 2nd option (I think that Wally is at best a 3rd option, unless, as is the case for Cs, there is no one better).

Any trade for LeBron would have to be a multi-team, multi-player nightmare of a deal with spare parts flying every which way. And we've all seen, by now, that Danny Ainge can't be in a multi-team trade without finding the way to minimize the value the Celtics receive in return to an insane degree. There's no way that could happen and leave LeBron in a Boston uniform.

As for LeBron ending up in LA or NY, which seems to be the object of the exercise for the overall NBA marketing plan...the Knicks are too screwed up right now. He can't play with Kobe. And who knows if the Clippers could sustain the type of spending they did to make a playoff run into another season. He certainly can't play with Paul Pierce. Their particular style of play would be too similar, or would be if LeBron were less talented than he is. Paul Pierce for his part has shown reluctance to share the spotlight. So that can't happen.

As for him coming here in trade for Pierce (presuming Danny Ferry subscribed to the Danny Ainge How To Paralyze a Franchise Correspondence Course at the Isaiah Thomas Institute for Killing a Basketball Team), that seems ridiculous to me. The thing that holds King James back in Cleveland is an inferior supporting cast. And somehow, Boston would be better? The trouble with the Celtics is that all of these kinds have potential (in the NBA parlance of our times guys like Jefferson, Gomes West, Perkins and so on might even have tremendous upside potential), but they haven't managed to accomplish much as yet. In the long run, it would be better for LeBron to stay in Cleveland than come to the declined and fallen Celtic empire (apologies to grammar and Edward Gibbon).

Of course, there is always the possibility that Danny Ainge might have to do something dramatic to remind people that there is a basketball team in town. He might even realize that Bostonians might discover the closely guarded secret that Antoine Walker helped a team win a ring, even though Ainge didn't like his game. If that story broke, Ainge might find the media and the fans keeping a watchful eye on his stewardship of the Celtic franchise. That's the last thing he needs, if he wants to remain employed.

The more likely scenario is that Cleveland will trade LeBron and the Celtics won't get him. Getting 75% value for LeBron might net a few decent players. But they won't be a contender. They might not be a playoff team, which would leave them with a lottery pick next season. Interestingly enough, in a story that seemed to be broken on this site (it wasn't) based on the attention it received at the time, the Celtics once owned the rights to the Cleveland pick in the first round in 2007.

And since no one paid as much attention to this as they should have, you might wonder where said pick went. It went to Phoenix, along with $1.8 million to pay a retired stiff whom you may know as Brian Grant. In return Celtic fans get Rajon Rondo. I could do a better job running the Celtics in my sleep than Danny Ainge does.

And if you don't believe me, just watch Theo Ratliff trying to Willis Reed his way around the court in the season opener. Tell me that he's not an overpaid, overage version of Kendrick Perkins with serious, lingering health issues. I hated Raef. I screamed bloody murder about the Antoine trade because he was part of it. He was useless. His contract was terrible. He was soft. But at least he was consistently in the lineup. Now he's gone, and his replacement has two "redeeming" qualities. First, allegedly he can play defense. He could at one point, I concede, but it's 2006 not 1999. And last, his terrible contract expires on year before Raef's terrible contract. And yet it is only the Cincinnati Kid who calls for Danny's termination. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it's been a while since I posted an update on my blog. Rest assured, I have my reasons. My computer is in the weeds with what I assume is a virus problem. I have a theory or two to account for this problem. If you visit Mark Cuban's blog (Bear in mind, you do so at the risk of your own intellectual well being) with its continual critique of journalism such as it is, perhaps you might see where I'm coming from. If you can find the point in the latest entry, I think you win a prize.

Is it a coincidence that my computer is wracked with a virus while Mark Cuban treats a topic (Ozzie Guillen's recent verbal verbal misstep) covered in agonizing detail by a site in which Mark Cuban himself has been the subject of a vicious attack? Most likely, it is a coincidence. We here at Cincinnati Kid Industries do endorse most forms of paranoia. Particularly the delusional variety.

There is also the possibility that the Red Sox themselves are tired of me, the lone voice of truth in a sycophantic region devoted to glossing over their foibles. As was the case in the Seinfeld episode where Kramer tried to scam the Post Office into replacing Jerry's stereo, the Red Sox just might be endeavoring to drag the Cincinnati Kid from his cushy lair and force me to rely on internet cafes to expose me to the harsh, clear light of day as the monster I am. A monster so vile...

Whatever the case may be, I ought not rule out coincidence, especially as I am a great believer in Ockham's Razor. The likelihood of Mark Cuban or the Red Sox knowing who I am and what I write is pretty slim. My fame has yet to measure with my capabilities as a writer. I realize that, but I can live with it. But I am still paranoid. And yet, I am not quite prepared to rule out the possibility that I am right and you all are out to get me. For my part, I believe that paranoid and arrogant is a winning combination, although it might explain why I'm still single. I've also been told that I'm immature and afraid of commitment. It just might take that weird cult leader from eHarmony.com to get me off the market. Then again, I think I'd rather be single than go through a process like Warren Beatty went through in the Parallax View. I wouldn't want to live in a world where I might come out the other side of the looking glass a Red Sox fan, or worse.

The real subject of my post should have been up a week ago, when it was relevant. Alas, it has little to do with Scott Kazmir markedly outpitching Josh Beckett. I'm going to hold off on commenting on Curt Schilling's brilliant effort for a little while, too. Nor is the pathetic weakness of the NL East my concern on this fine evening. I must confess, that there was very little to say toward the stated purpose of this site with the recent wining streak ruining my days. And I have nothing patriotic to say to celebrate America's 230th birthday. Tonight my subject is Danny Ainge, and the inexplicable lack of criticism for his stewardship of the Celtics.

From what I saw of the NBA Draft (and I watched until Dee Brown was off the board because I thought he was vastly underrated), it seemed to me that Danny Ainge set out to make himself the worst GM in NBA history. Alas, Isaiah Thomas stole his thunder. No one will criticize Ainge when they can wonder why Isaiah picked Renaldo Balkman at 20. For those of you scoring at home, Balkman would almost assuredly have been available in free agency. After this, it mattered little whom Mr. Thomas selected with the 29th pick. For all the good this draft will do the Knicks, Isaiah might as well have drafted me.

The real issue is how poorly Ainge manipulated the draft process. In hindsight, the Cs could have ended up with Randy Foye or Brandon Roy, based on what Portland and Minnesota did with the 6th and 7th picks. For my part, I think that if Sebastian Telfair is all hype. Without that documentary film on ESPN, how many people would know him if they fell over him? And then there's Theo Ratliff. Who knew he was still alive, let alone still in the league? Read the last portion of this passage to get a realistic assessment of this trade.

If you read the article in the last link in the preceding paragraph, you'll find that Bob Ryan gave this draft an F-, and the two guys at the bottom of the piece have problems with Ainge's moves. But Peter May is willing to give Ainge the benefit of the doubt, and Shira Springer is guardedly optimistic. I hate to say this, but I agree with Bob Ryan. That is becoming a disturbing trend in this blog.

As for Rajon Rondo, according to Shira Springer, Ainge had him ranked 7th overall. Of course, Shira also pointed out that Danny Ainge has as much use for media mock drafts as he did for Antoine Walker. While the pro-Antoine anti-management bias of this site is overt, that doesn't mean that we are opposed to showing some consideration to those harboring opposing views. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to ask where Ms. Springer has been for the last several weeks.

In case she didn't notice, Antoine Walker earned a championship ring. As far as I know, not being familiar with the owners of the Pistons or the Heat, I cannot say the same for Danny Ainge as an executive. If I owned the Pistons, I would have been sure to give Danny a ring for the Rasheed Wallace trade where the Cs took spare parts (I will admit that Lindsay Hunter has been a solid player for a number of years, but how can he count when he never played for the Cs?) and Detroit took the O'Brien Trophy. As for the Heat's owner, I think he might make a nice gesture as Bob Kraft did on his visit to Russian head of state Vladimir Putin. After all, two of the players who helped win him the title had spent last season helping the Celtics to achieve their lone playoff appearance in the Danny Ainge Era.

Antoine Walker is vastly underappreciated as a basketball player. He can be arrogant. He misses a lot of shots. In many ways, he reminds me of me. People in Boston that think they know the Celtics, or think they know basketball still use his name as a punchline. To them, he's a poster boy for what's wrong with the NBA. And yet, he was a contributing member of a championship team. It is true that Danny Ainge was also a contributing member of the Celtics' dynasty of the 1980s, but what has he accomplished since then?

In the Miami Herald piece I linked above (see underappreciated), there are two paragraphs that need to be quoted:

In explaining the trade of a seven-year veteran and Celtics co-captain, Ainge reportedly told the media that Walker's leadership "stifled'' other players' leadership and had a ''grasp'' on the Celtics franchise that wasn't ``a positive thing.''

Walker pointed out, ``Look at Boston, look at me right now. Last time I checked, I don't think Boston's had that great a record since I've been gone.''

That speaks for itself. Perhaps Antoine Walker wasn't stifling the leadership of his former teammates. Perhaps there was no leadership there to be stifled. The Celtics cannot ignore the fact that Danny Ainge is a terrible GM. His hat hangs on his draft record. But the team is young, and as yet unproven. They have a great deal of potential, but the trouble with potential is that more often than not it is never reached.

And yet, there is no serious criticism of Danny Ainge the GM. Bill Simmons almost seemed like he wanted to go there in his Draft Diary. Instead, he chose a far easier target in Isaiah Thomas. To be fair, Isaiah's decisions are so bad that they demand immediate response and often overshadow the folly of those around him. I even considered inducting the Sports Guy into the Max Mercy Hall of Fame for leaving Ainge out of the bad GM summit he wrote a few months back (there is no link to this piece, Cincinnati Kid Industries cannot afford the archive subscription fee at ESPN.com). I had to rule against it, since I laugh out loud when I read his stuff. So for the immediate future, Bill is immune to the Max Mercy HOF, especially since the next inductee deserves a special ceremony.

As I said before, Shira Springer blithely said that mock drafts rank up there in Ainge World with Employee Number Eight. So I will wrap up this post with some cheerful thoughts for the last remaining Celtics fans. Danny Ainge elected to pay the money the Suns owed Brian Grant to sit home and watch TV (as he retired on June 28). For the record, that is $1.8 million to a guy who won't even play a game of basketball, let alone play for Boston and a first round pick next year (granted, it comes from Cleveland so that it won't be all that great unless King James vanishes from the material sphere) for Rajon Rondo, a point guard who prompted this reaction from Bill Simmons in his running diary:

9:40 -- Just when this draft couldn't get any crazier, my beloved Celtics just bought the 21st pick from Phoenix to take Rajon Rondo, the Kentucky guard who Chad Ford touted all summer because he mistakenly thought Rondo was foreign. Unfortunately, Rondo can't shoot. This is an understatement. As Bilas says, "Teams in the SEC didn't even guard him." Put it this way: The list of NBA teams that won an NBA title with a point guard who couldn't shoot looks like this:
1. (empty)2. (empty)3. (empty)
On the other hand, my Celtics moles told me that Rondo absolutely DESTROYED Foye and Williams in their workout a few weeks ago. So who knows?
God, I'm a sap ...
9:43 -- My dad's reaction: "So we have two new point guards, but one of them's 5-foot-11 and the other one can't shoot? And I'm supposed to be happy about this?" Tough to argue with that one. I'm not even going to bother telling him about Rondo's freakishly long fingers. Maybe tomorrow.

At least the Celtics will have a dance team for the first time in franchise history in the coming season. It's almost ironic that two teams broke tradition in a big way in the last few months. Boston, with it's arena rafters filled with championship banners and the retired numbers of past heroes now has cheerleaders. Miami, the former expansion team whose first ever field goal came from the immortal Rory Sparrow, made its first finals appearance and won its first title. But I'm wrong about Antoine Walker, and Danny Ainge is right.

And Sebastian Telfair and Rajon Rondo will be a championship back court one of these days.

In the immortal words of country music legend George Strait: "I've got some ocean front property in Arizona. From my front porch you can see the sea. I've got some ocean front property in Arizona. An' if you'll buy that I'll throw the Golden Gate in free."