Ladies and gentlemen, I have an intriguing question to pose to you all. At what point in this evening's game did Kevin Youkilis look most ridiculous? Was it the foul ball down the first base line that he turned into a Keystone Kops moment? Or was it when he struggled through the introduction of the lineup, making Rocky's struggles in the commercial taping in Rocky II look like Olivier doing Hamlet on stage in London?

According to Joe Buck, Youkilis manages to look intimidating even when he introduces a lineup. Of course, I think that if you are Joe Buck, even my five year old niece looks intimidating, but that's neither here nor there. I think Youkilis is far from intimidating. Rather, he looks like the type of guy that desperately wanted to be a biker all his life, who gets the bike and the clothes and the look, but still can't make himself look mean. Perhaps Youkilis would have looked meaner in my eyes had he not waited until the team trailed by 7 in the 6th inning to notch his first HR and RBI of the ALCS.

The Youkilis bobble reminded me of a quote from George Orwell which I first applied to Mark Cuban. Orwell described one of England's peers as "looking rather more like a monkey on a stick than I would have thought possible for some one who wasn't actually trying." That sums up how pathetic Youkilis looked in misplaying that ball.

Over the course of the offseason, which now looks like it just might start a lot sooner than Red Sox Nation might desire, a great deal of ink will be spilled on the fact that Francona elected not to start Josh Beckett on three days rest. For my part, I have attacked Francona continually over the 18 months this blog has existed. But I don't think he made the wrong call. And it's not because I wanted the Sox to lose, for a change.

People love to point out that Beckett was lethal on three days rest in the 2003 playoffs. That was then, however, and this is now. Josh Beckett is the cornerstone of this team going forward. Is it, then, better to risk his arm for the sake of tying an ALCS or is it better to take your chances with Wakefield and keep Beckett as healthy as possible to extend the window for this team?

I took a great deal of grim staisfaction in seeing Wakefield, who was so good so long ago in the regular season, fall apart in the fifth inning of this evening's game. But up until this evening, he had never lost an LCS game. And it mattered little that he was pitching on 18 days rest. After all, were you really worried that his arm would be too live in tonight's game if you happen to be a Red Sox fan?

And while we're talking history, if we can remember what Josh Beckett did in 2003 on three days rest, why can't we remember what he did in the last LCS start with his team trailing 3-1 in an elimination game? That was Game 5 of the NLCS in 2003, and I hate to do this to my friend the Cubs fan, but Beckett shut down the Cubs as though it were a moral imperative that the Cubs should score no runs.

He threw a 2 hitter in that game. Not much attention is paid to it, partly because stifling the Dusty Baker-era Cubs wasn't exactly a miracle. And of course being on the wrong end of a 2 hitter in a game where you could have elimated the opponent isn't anywhere near as picturesque as some loser in glasses interfering with a fly ball down the left field line with 5 outs to go and a three run lead.

If Red Sox fans were honest (and let's face it, they aren't), they'd admit that starting Wake over Beckett wasn't exactly reminiscent of Joe McCarthy going with Denny Galehouse in the one game playoff against the Indians in 1948. Of course that presumes Red Sox fans know half as much as they pretend to about their team's history. Perhaps if the CHB gets off his posterior and has his interns burn the midnight oil, then the Nation might remember it as though it were yesterday the day after the column appears. But that's another story.

Before today's game, I got to thinking about that play where Ortiz managed to get in the way of Ramirez grounding out to shortstop. Seeing him run into that out in such surprising fashion reminded me of something at the time. I'm sure all of you good Red Sox fans who worry so much about what might happen to John Henry's ill-gotten gains in his pending divorce own the 2004 postseason DVD, so you can check it out for yourselves.

In case you don't remember, Cardinals pitcher and all-around loser Jeff Suppan managed to get himself trapped in a rundown at third base thanks to indecision on the base paths. I remember being livid with him at the time, not only because it was a momentum killing play that benefited the Red Sox, but because a National League pitcher has to run the bases from time to time and ought to have had better sense than that. To make a long story short, I think Papi might have killed the Sox momentum in this series with that play.

So the Red Sox are now poised on the brink of elimination. I cannot summon up a proper level of excitement about that, though. First, there is, as I keep saying, the lingering memory of 2004's comeback against the Yankees. And as I've said, I still don't like this Indians team. I do find myself wondering whether the layoff while the Rockies await the winner of this series might be the only thing that will kill the roll Colorado is on at the moment.

The home half of the fifth inning of tonight's game did reinforce an impression I've had of the Indians in this postseason. With the way they keep grinding out runs in all kinds of different ways with two outs, they remind me of a football team that simply can't get an opponent off the field on third down, like Notre Dame, or the teams that have fallen victim to Belichick's corrupt legion of minions.

And while I'm on the topic of things that have suddenly become clear to me over the last few days, I have one more this evening thanks to Bill Simmons. For a long time now, basically since the travesty of 2004, or maybe since he went to work for Jimmy Kimmel, Bill Simmons has been evoking an impression of something I couldn't quite explain. Calling him an aggressive sycophant summed up his persona, but it didn't resolve the question of that nagging impression.

Then Bill Simmons wrote this brilliant piece comparing being a Boston fan right now to waking up every day being George Clooney. And it hit me like a thousand of brick, to quote Rooster Cogburn. Bill Simmons reminds me of George Clooney. Not the looks, or the talent, but that vague, smarmy smugness that is all over the Gospel According to Clooney.

In case you don't know what I'm talking about, the writers of South Park did an excellent job of satirizing this particular aspect of Clooney's character in the smug epsiode. They got after Clooney for his inexplicable Oscar acceptance speech after he won Best Supporting Actor for Syriana.

In that speech, Clooney gave credit to Hollywood for bringing issues like civil rights and AIDS to public attention when the rest of America was silent. Now, I might be alone in not remembering all those movie and TV stars sprayed by fire hoses and attacked by police dogs in the South in the 50s and 60s, but I am that sort of guy. And it was a blow against racism when Hattie McDaniel won her Best Supporting Actress Oscar for Gone With the Wind, right up there with the I Have a Dream speech, right?

But that's a long digression to come back to Bill Simmons. He's a fraud, like Clooney. He sets himself up as the voice of the young sports fan from Gen X and beyond, and I wish it weren't true. After all, if he's the voice of that slice of sportsfandom, then sportsfandom must be even dumber than I want to admit.

In other matters, the Yankees brain trust convened in Tampa today to discuss the future of Joe Torre. No announcement was made, so I have tomorrow afternoon to try to squeeze in the analysis of the Yankee management situation before the decision is made.

Today was a banner day for New England sports fans. Most importantly, the Red Sox basically increased their lead over the Yankees, even though it won't show in the standings. So Steve Phillips and the Mike and Mike crew have jumped the gun by scheduling their discussion of whether or not it's time to press the panic button in Red Sox Nation for tomorrow morning. Tim Wakefield went eight innings and Paps closed it out in the 9th. Meanwhile the Yankees overcame a Rivera blown save to win in the home half of the 9th. For all intents and purposes, the lead might as well be back up to ten, maybe twelve games.

While it may be an impressive feat to hold any given 9 men who are paid to hit a baseball without a hit for 6 solid innings, let's not forget that the Tampa Bay Devil Rays are not exactly the 1927 Yankees. It's true that getting BJ Upton to end the game when you're up by three and there isn't a soul on base is the basic equivalent of fanning Ruth and Gehrig with the bases loaded.

Unfortunately, it doesn't change the fact that they just dropped 2 of 3 to the Orioles. Nor does it change the fact that Eric Gagne looks a lot more like a mistake now than he did when the CHB mushed him with this puff piece. One can only hope said article brings the same magic to KG that it has to the Sox to this point.

The real triumph came in the form of an Esquire magazine piece naming Tom Brady the best dressed man in the world. Call me old fashioned, but who gives a damn? What exactly is the methodology that produces lists like this? Was any consideration given to the day when he was photographed looking like an unmade bed and rocking a Yankees hat? I must confess that I was a little disappointed that they included the pope on the list. Not so much that His Holiness didn't top the list, but it seemed like they were making fun of him a bit. Benedict XVI wears the same papal vestments that Popes have worn for quite some time, right?

Of course, I only bring up this monumental achievement of Brady's to express the hope that this small victory and the fact that the team won the offseason will keep Patriots fans warm when Randy Moss and Stallworth come up short, the thin secondary gets thinner and the inside linebackers get their AARP cards. Of course, I was also the guy who spent much of the spring angry at the amount of hype given to the Lance Briggs holdout while one hardly dared whisper about the Asante Samuel contract situation. So what do I know?

Among the several things I know at the moment: Lance Briggs has since signed with the Bears. Asante Samuel has yet to sign with the Patriots. For me, it's fascinating to watch this situation unfold. Samuel is looking for a massive deal like the one Nate Clements signed with San Francisco, and I can't say I blame him. Why not shoot for the stars? The team certainly seems to need him, since Chad Scott went down for the year in the first week of camp, and defensive back was not a strong point from jump street.

But the team has a valid point, as well. Samuel has 16 career INTs, but he picked up 10 of them last season in his contract year. While ten interceptions is, in the grand scheme of things, a very productive season for an NFL defensive back, one must still temper one's desire to throw bags of money at a guy who broke out in a contract season. One also must temper one's admiration of a ten interception season when 3 of those picks came during Rex Grossman's inexplicable effort to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory on the brand new field turf in Foxboro last November.

Too often, cornerbacks in the NFL have shown flashes of brilliance only to burn teams who sign them to big contracts down the road. However, the Patriots do not have much depth in the secondary. Rodney Harrison is a year older, and his injury history is not encouraging. The rookie from Miami needs to show he can behave like a human being in the event of a fight. Eugene Wilson in adequate, maybe. Chad Scott was old, now he's on the shelf. Randal Gay probably grew up tough as hell because of his last name, but hasn't proved himself over the course of an entire season to the point where he deserves to be the number one cornerback on a contender.

I guess what really bothered me was that the Bears were ripped for not signing a linebacker when their linebacking corps was still in good hands. Urlacher is Urlacher, the overplayed vitamin water ads notwithstanding, and Hillenmeyer is quite good. Jay Mariotti even went so far as to suggest that the Bears should have dealt Briggs to the Redskins for their number one pick and then used said pick to draft Ted Ginn Jr. (in case you're wondering, I will be tracking Ginn's performance as one more way to show my solidarity with the anti-Jay movement).

Of course, Belichick will work some magic, and maybe our old friend Vladimir Putin can get another crack at a Patriots Super Bowl ring. So none of this will have mattered.

I want to end tonight with the first random thing I hate in quite some time. Tonight, it's Carrie Underwood. The other day, I happened to be listening to Mike FM, the station with no DJs and totally random music. They happened to play Carrie Underwood's Before He Cheats. That song bothers me because of the line: "right now, he's probably buying her some fruity little drink cause she can't shoot whiskey."

Every time I've heard that song, I ended up going back over the list of things I look for in a woman. And wouldn't you know, the ability to shoot whiskey just isn't there. Maybe I'm crazy, but what the hell do I want to spend time with a woman who drinks like I do? So I can share a his and hers moment where we both exit through the screen door without actually opening the damn screen?

The sad thing is, there are people in this world who do think that a woman who shoots whiskey is an ideal mate. I could only imagine the horrified looks on my parents' faces if I were to bring such a woman home. I wonder how the introductions would work: "Whiskey-drinking Annie, I'd like you to meet my mother and father."

I have to say that it might be refreshing to go to a wedding and not worry about whether I would be the biggest drunk there, unless of course it were my wedding and the other contestant just happened to be the bride. That would, indeed, be a sad day in my world.

I would like to be a guest at that wedding, though. Especially if I got to sit in the back row and make bets with other guests as to whether the bride or the groom would make the biggest drunken spectacle of him or herself. Imagine that, offering odds or setting up a system of squares to see who passed out first, or who fell into the cake, or who threw the first punch at whom?

Plus, to get back to the song, based on my experience, a woman who shoots whiskey is very likely going to be cheated on at some point in her life. The women I know who knock back a shooter or ten tend not to be at the top of the aesthetic spectrum. They tend to lack polish, sophistication, and, to be frank, manners. So the song becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. You warn a guy not to cheat when you're doing something that might drive him to cheat... It seems like you might have missed a step somewhere down the line.

It seems strange that Tim Wakefield, who has had ever so much trouble against every opponent he's faced to this point, should go eight depressingly strong innings against the Colorado Rockies but Curt Schilling could barely make it through five against essentially the same lineup. Did the Rockies not get the memo that these things simply do not happen in Fenway? Did they not read the million and one blog posts glorifying the near-no-hitter in Oakland last Thursday? Do they not consult 38Pitches? Inquiring minds need to know the answers to these questions.

Even better, while all the king's horses and all the king's men could not put Humpty Dumpty back together again in Fenway, the New York Yankees were otherwise occupied defeating the Arizona Diamondbacks. The lead is now down to 8 and 1/2 games with just under 100 to play. I haven't heard any snappy banter about what the Sox magic number looks like now. It's funny how the near sweep at the hands of the Athletics took a little of the wind out of the Red Sox sails.

I wonder if I'm the only one who wonders where this team goes from here. If the pitching starts to let this team down, what else is there? Ramirez has picked his game up, as I feared he would. But the rumors that JD Drew had found his stroke again (based on the pair of three run homers he hit in the desert this weekend) appear to have been greatly exaggerated. As I may have mentioned last night, the two broken toys who should have been leading off are locked in mortal combat to see who can dip below the Mendoza line first at the bottom of the order.

Maybe it's wishful thinking on my part, but I can see trouble on the horizon for this team, and I'm not the only one. What if they do run into a couple of weeks worth of bad luck? Will the fact that Tavarez said that Josh Beckett would be on the DL if Beckett had a blister like the one with which Tavarez is currently pitching every start come back to haunt this team? Will the cute little debate about whether Youkilis is faster than Pedroia grow into something more serious should one, the other or both run into a slump? I think these things could happen, but one can't expect the author of Sedition in Red Sox Nation to be particularly objective where the Red Sox are concerned.

I ran across something of interest in the pages of BostonNow today. There was a review of the CHB's latest "opus" Senior Year. I enjoyed the reviewer subtitling the review with this little epigram: "Memoir not very memorable." What surprised me was that the reviewer seemed somewhat surprised that the CHB should submit a lackluster, egocentric and out of touch book and expect his public to pay 25 bucks for the right to read it. That seems like it encapsulates every aspect of his career as author and columnist and all-around D Bag.

Unfortunately, I find myself again compelled to blog briefly about NASCAR. Hendrick Motor Sports has apparently signed the biggest free agent in the history of sports. That's got to be considered triply amazing, given the facts that NASCAR is not a sport, that it outgrew its market share (which is why ratings are declining) and that 90% of sports fans in blue states watch NASCAR for novelty purposes.

Even if Dale Earnhardt Jr should manage to win more than three races in a season (to say nothing of a championship, as one must walk before one can run), he's got a hell of a long way to go to be more than just the son of a famous father. Maybe I'm being unduly harsh, but is there anyone out there who could tell me that he'd be on this circuit if his name were Dale Smith? He's not the biggest free agent in the history of sports.

Little E may bring a large chunk of sponsorship revenue to the Hendrick stable, but it's not as though the team owner has to decide between chassis modifications and putting food on the table. But at the end of the day, he's just another semi-literate redneck driving around an oval filled with semi-literate rednecks. Worse, it seems like he's finishing a lap behind the more talented semi-literate rednecks.

In case tomorrow's game turns into a blowout, either in the good way like tonight (a three-for as they say, since the Sox lost, Big Schill was humiliated and I got to watch Assault on Precinct 13 on FX all at the same time) or in the bad way (where the Sox win), I have something to suggest. As long as you're a COMCAST customer and have access to their free movies OnDemand option, you might want to check out Career Opportunities. It's only available through tomorrow, and it's pretty damn funny. Just a suggestion.

I am not a nice guy, nor am I tremendously sensitive. But even I have limits, there were some lines that I never intended to cross in this blog. I didn't want to do this, but with the way Red Sox fans find the fact that Matsuzaka hit A Rod and Jeter so piquant, I felt it was time for me to send a more serious message of my own. So without further adieu...

GREAT MOMENTS IN RED SOX HISTORY #7 - 8/18/1967

On August 18 in the middle of the Impossible Dream Season of 1967, Tony Conigliaro came to bat against Jack Hamilton of the California Angels. Hamilton's pitch hit Tony C in the face, causing massive trauma. Tony missed the entire 1968 season. He won the Comeback Player of the Year award, which now bears his name, in 1969, but he was never the same. By 1975 he retired because his eyesight was deteriorating.

Bob Ryan wrote a piece on the tragic event last year on its 39th anniversary. I thought this particular paragraph was worth noting:

But Aug. 18 is always a somber date for me, and, I'm sure, for many others. Tony C is the greatest of all ``What-Ifs?" in Boston sports history. When he stepped into the box in that fateful fourth inning, he was 22 years old. He was the Golden Boy, en route to the Golden Career. Who among us wouldn't have traded places with Tony C?

I just don't see how a fan base which professes to possess a sterling knowledge of baseball history can in one breath lament the pitch that ended Tony C's career but still enjoy the spectacle of Alex Rodriguez or Derek Jeter being hit because they wear another uniform. If Roy Halladay had hit David Ortiz or Manny Ramirez or JD Drew this evening, Red Sox Nation would have deluged Governor Patrick's office with demands that he call out the state militia and declare martial law to punish the offending pitcher.

Is it a really a coincidence that Red Sox pitcher Tim Wakefield has hit more batters than any other pitcher in Major League Baseball since the start of the 2003 season? Is it a coincidence that the Red Sox seem to dominate this Sports Illustrated feature on basebrawls, including this shot of Pedro Martinez getting his just deserts?

Pitchers who have spent significant time on the Red Sox currently rank 2, 3 and 4 in active leaders in hit batsmen.

The guy who comes to me with his Red Sox information has an insufferable bravado he uses when he talks about Red Sox pitchers hitting opposing batters "by accident." He pauses, which would add dramatic emphasis if his rhetorical gifts measured up to his opinion thereof. And it's typical of Red Sox Nation's reaction to the bullying tactics of the Olde Towne Team. And if you don't believe me, look at this shot of the famous moment when Varitek bravely stood up to A Rod.

It truly takes a brave man to stand up to another man whilst wearing a mask, helmet, chest protector, shin guards and a big leather catcher's mitt. Just ask a Red Sox fan, and that fan will tell you how tough 'Tek is and how that moment was an impressive achievement.

Maybe I'm being a little too harsh in reminding New Englanders of a superstar cut down in his prime and dying before his time because he was hit in the face by a pitched ball. But that is the end result of throwing 96 mile per hour fastballs as you learn to pitch inside, or try to remind the world that you own the inside part of the plate.

I understand that pitching inside is part of the game. But I don't believe that the Red Sox make mistakes when they hit opposing players. I don't know much about baseball as it's played in the Japanese League, but I highly doubt that they only pitch to half of the strike zone in the Far East. I just find myself imagining that it's more than a little coincidental that the two hitters beaned by Daisuke Matsuzaka were either notoriously successful against the Red Sox (Jeter) or on pace to break all records for hitting in the month of April (A Rod) while he learned the subtle nuances of pitching in North American baseball.

I think we all know how Red Sox Nation will react should the next message pitch hurt one of their heroes. What I fear in this situation is that Red Sox Nation will show as much dignity as they have in all of this discussion of the A Rod and Jeter incidents should another unfortunate incident like this

befall and opposing player in Fenway.

I waited a few hours before I decided to go ahead with this post. I waited for a pair of press conference that have yet to come. I think these press conferences have been delayed because it takes a while for information to filter into and back out of Middle America. The most vital is the one Lovie Smith is to hold any time now. For those who may not know, Lovie is the coach of the Chicago Bears.

In the wake of last night's sublimely amazing victory over the Vikings, the New England Patriots achieved something no other team has achieved in the history of the National Football League. They beat a team 27 days prior to the scheduled start of their game. As I first suggested a few weeks ago, the time has come to refer to the Bears as a one loss team. There is no way, barring some sort of Jim Jones Kool Aid episode, that the Bears can come into Gillette Stadium and compete with the mighty Patriots. That is, unless Ron Borges could have placed too much emphasis on last night's win over a very flawed Minnesota team.

Maybe Ron Borges and I read different articles and watch different TV programming, but I had not heard Minnesota mentioned among the class of the NFC until his article. They have a shot to make the playoffs, but not a very good one. Most national coverage of the National Football Conference seems to favor the South and East divisions rather than the North. The Cowboys, Eagles, Falcons and Panthers all have better shots to end up with the 2 wildcard playoff berths than the mighty Vikings.

Ron Borges makes a big deal (pun not intended) about the two massive Minnesota defensive tackles. Perhaps he would have done well to make it clear to his readers that Pat Williams, one of the pair, is still more famous for his bizarre feud with Bears center Olin Kreutz than for his play on the field. Apparently, Kreutz single-handedly formed a cabal that kept Williams out of the Pro Bowl. That sounds about as ridiculous as this poor cat looks.

For those who insist on the proprieties, I got the picture from the AP via the Daily Telegraph and Jed Carlson. I did not take that picture. I do not own a cat, and if I did, there is no way in the world that someone would dress that cat in a costume of any sort. Look at it. Any fool can tell that the cat is livid. So you're a loser, live with it. Don't take it out on a cat, or dog. But I digress.

I know that it has become every reader's favorite thing that nearly resembles a feature in this blog, but it's time for another of my sporadic musings on the Bears and their title hopes. At this point, I still don't know that they can win the Super Bowl. They beat the 49ers in resounding fashion on Sunday. But I'm reluctant to call it an impressive win.

Yes, the Bears were ahead by forty one points by halftime. So they had that going for them, which is nice. They went on to win 41-10. I am not saying that they should have played as hard to preserve the shutout as they did in the process of building the big lead. Nor am I saying the Bears should have tried to run up the score (even more than they did). I am merely not overly impressed with them beating a team savagely when they were expected to beat that team savagely.

I am fairly convinced that the Bears can venture into Gillette Stadium and compete with the Patriots. I believe the Bears can win the game. I am not willing to say anything more definite on the subject at this point for two reasons. First, there is the menacing presence of Rex Grossman. I think he got the bad game out of his system in Arizona, but what if he didn't? Then there is my prediction that Dallas would beat Philly. That didn't go so well.

So I would say this to wrap up this stream of something (not quite consciousness) with this advice to Lovie Smith. Don't forfeit just yet. After all, the Patriots have the Colts this week. While they have had some success against Peyton Manning in the past, the New England defense hasn't been tested the way they will be on Sunday night all season. If the Patriots lose that game, according to Ron Borges logic, the Bears will only lose by 30. Then again, if the Patriots win, Brady and the boys will win the Bears game by somewhere on the order of a trillion points (give or take an order of magnitude). In that case, I'd best start rewriting the Paper Lace opus "The Night Chicago Died."

The other press conference I expected this afternoon should have come from city officials in Boston. Since the Red Sox picked up Tim Wakefield's option, I assumed that the city would have announced its preparations for the victory parade to celebrate the World Series championship which is now in the cards for the 2007 edition of the Henrymen (the CHB's expression, not mine). Maybe they're waiting until after the election, maybe they were too hung over from celebrating the Patriot triumph or maybe they await the big name signings that are currently in the works. I'm rooting for them to engineer a trade for Gary Sheffield, and I think you know why, Red Sox Nation.

PS - I don't know if you happened to catch Cold Pizza today, but for the first time ever, I thought Dana Jacobson looked a bit frisky in her Halloween costume at the end of the show. Of course, I might not have noticed it before in her more professional attire. Maybe I was a bit prejudiced against her as a graduate of Michigan. I think we all know by now that Ann Arbor (and the northern Midwest, in general) is pretty much Xanadu for the unattractive female. As with most of the insulting and offensive things that appear in the blog, I hope you realize I mean it in the nicest way possible.