A funny thing happened on the way to the World Series last night. Chien Ming Wang and the undermanned, underhyped, undertalented made the Red Sox, otherwise known as the finest team to ever take the field, look a little ridiculous. Or the Red Sox hitters made themselves look ridiculous a long time before Wang took the hill and he just kept getting them out. What a shame that was.

Perhaps a little bit more shocking was the fact that the Yankees managed to get hits against Clay Buchholz. Didn't any one bother to inform these so-called Bronx Bombers that Buchholz threw a no hitter last season even before he was officially a rookie? Who gave them the right to beat the Red Sox at Fenway with the future of the Red Sox rotation facing them? It's simply outrageous. This sort of aggression won't stand.

A cynical theory could be advanced to suggest that the vastly superior Red Sox are simply lulling the manifestly inferior Yankees into a false sense of security. And one could say the whole of Major League Baseball, what with David Ortiz off to what can only charitably called a slow start this season.

An even more cynical theory could be advanced to suggest that maybe the Red Sox who are desperate to increase their fan base in the Pacific Rim didn't want to humiliate Chien Ming Wang, the darling of Taiwanese fans, because they may need to squeeze every cent out of that region. While it is improbable, it bears consideration. What with the subprime catastrophe and the dangerously large portions of American financial services companies being purchased by foreign sovereign wealth firms, the "tough yuppie" (and if you think that that term is an oxymoron, ask a Red Sox fan and he'll tell you, or at the very least whip a piece of pizza off the back of your head when you turn your back) is facing tough times. And we all know that this legendary "tough yuppie" is the backbone of Red Sox Nation.

A still more cynical theory could be advanced to show that the Red Sox who are starting off more slowly than their teammates this season are the guys who reinvented their careers since signing with the Red Sox. Now that George Mitchell's "report" has been exposed to the light of day and a member of the Red Sox board of directors is no longer serving as MLB's watchdog for illicit performance enhancing substances, it seems slightly coincidental that the thriving's run out for some of the players who feasted on opposing pitchers while under Mitchell's protection. But then I never was one for buying coincidences...

As for Mike Mussina outdueling Josh Beckett and not in that good Las Vegas way, but in the bad, let's see who can allow more runs today way... I'm not letting that worry me too much, either. Mussina entered whatever phase comes after the twilight of a pitcher's career before John Kerry invented Manny Ortez as a favorite current Red Sox player.

And so, let the not so dulcet tones of the Yankees Suck cheers ring in Fenway...

As famed New Englander (though a Californian by birth, I think we can call him a New Englander) and overrated archtool Robert Frost once wrote, two roads diverged in a yellow wood. Tonight, those roads are the respective seasons of the coiled, sleeping dragon Red Sox and the lumbering oaf on the verge of going over the cliff Yankees. The two teams meet in Fenway this weekend, and the Red Sox are poised to sweep.

Both teams have a 5-5 record, but the Red Sox are 5-5 because they're battling injuries. Beckett is going to get stronger with each passing start. Clay Buchholz is poised to have that breakout year we've been told by Red Sox Nation and its press cadre is all but overdue (even though he's a rookie and his inevitable late season heroics were derailed by a vague tiredness in his pitching arm). And Coco Crisp is hitting over .300 at the moment, so all signs point to the Yankees fading quickly and harshly.

After all, the Yankees are so desperate, they're forced to start their ace, Chien Ming Wang on normal rest. In any other club, and against any other team, this would be interpreted by any rational observer as business as usual. But this is the struggling .500 New York Yankees and they face the mighty .500 Boston Red Sox. Everyone who is anyone knows that the panic button is already pressed in the Bronx. Surely by this point tomorrow, the frantic phone calls to Scranton will begin in earnest.

The Red Sox, on the other hand, are so confident of victory in this series that they sent Mike Lowell to the 15 day DL this afternoon. The Sox didn't even make the move retroactive to speed his return. They don't need him in the lineup at the moment, given that Jason Varitek's batting .290 and has 2 homers. Given his recent track record, he probably does have two weeks of promise left before he remembers his bat was declared missing and presumed dead from the Red Sox lineup in late 2005. Rest assured, I will be updating this site frequently over the next three days or so to chronicle this spectacular instance of ships passing in the night in the offing.

For some unexplained reason, I signed up to receive the BU student newspaper at the alumni website one afternoon when I was killing time. I don't know what good I expected to come of it at the time, if any, but I never hoped for this. As those of you who read this blog have probably come to notice, I am a keen observer, almost to the point of paranoia, of the tools that walk among us. And today, thanks in part to the travesty of a student newspaper at Boston University, I have struck what just might be the Comstock Lode of tools of note. And in this instance, this picture is truly worth at least 1,000 words...



There is a movement afoot on American college campuses that must be revealed and ridiculed (gently, and without recourse to cyberbullying, of course, as this site condones neither real nor pretend violence) instantly. Tools of epic proportions across the nation are putting together an event called the Intercollegiate World Cup right under our noses. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so surprised when I discovered that this event took place at Middlebury College in Vermont, a school notorious even in a state filled with tools for archtoolery of every imaginable sort.

And the principal archtool (which would make him a pope of tools, or at the very least a cardinal) is a person called Xander Manshel, which, if it isn't an alias, is surely a terrible crime against taste on the part of this tool's parents and one of the great self fulfilling prophecies of all time. With a name like that, how could the kid have turned out otherwise?

And when I googled Intercollegiate Quidditch, wouldn't you know that the very first site that phrase brought to my attention, led me to yet another archtool whol blogs under the banner A Paperback Writer. I simply didn't want to devote any more time to discover further tools involved in or inspired by this event, so I am giving up at this point. But by now, I think you probably see why I referred to this as the Comstock Lode of tools of note. In case you don't know and are too lazy to look it up, the Comstock Lode was one of the richest mineral strikes in world history, and it was exploited perhaps too quickly and too haphazardly.

I really didn't intend to post tonight. After all, I've been drinking for a long time now, and my drunken posts have been unmitigated disasters. But several things need be said about several topics and if I don't do it, who will? The Coast Guard? And the kick in the ass about blogging whilst somewhat intoxicated is that I do not know where to begin.

I suppose I'll start where I left off last night. I have been reluctant to talk about this particular subject, since I have a way of jinxing players and teams, but in the wake of last night's epic performance, I don't think I can jinx LeBron. Hell, even Bill Simmons is on board, and he's only permitted to notice trends which David Stern and Mark Cuban allow him to notice.

LeBron deserves at this point to hold the title deeds to every team and every property associated with basketball in the NBA's Eastern Conference. Every game he plays is a two-fold kick in the ass to the NBA league offices. First, he is triumphing in the face of the system. The Celtics since the Walker trade should hold themselves fortunate to depend on LeBron's mercy for the right to rebuild.

No one will admit it, but the NBA feeds on its superstars. And yet the league allows manifestly inferior players (like the entire Pistons roster, none of whom is fit to unfasten LeBron's oh so very unMessianic sandals) to flop and hack until the only player worthy of shaking hands with Bird, Russell, Heinshon, Cousy, Havlicheck, Jones, White or Cowens is shut out of the NBA Finals. So there are (and have been) two sets of Jordan rules. Superstars get most of the breaks, but when they don't it's OK to maul them in much the same fashion as a tiger mauls its dinner.

But tonight's was to be a baseball post. After all, the Yankees are back in town. And in my opinion, they should have erased not one but two games from the lead the Red Sox are oh so close to frittering away at this point. You may not have noticed, as it's Friday and all those with social lives were socializing, but the Red Sox managed to lose a game that should have been lost by a much larger margin.

In the early stages of the game, I found myself wondering if Chien Ming Wang had run over the umpire's dog. Red Sox fans might not agree, but Kevin Youkilis struck out in the bottom of the second. There is no way in God's Earth that the 2-2 pitch Youkilis took was a ball. It was at the knees and on the inside corner, a perfect pitch. In a logical world it was strike three.

Hell, Schilling would have thrown a towel over his head and wept as though he were trapped in the Old Testament Book of Lamentations until an ump gave him the call he felt the world owed him on a pitch like that. In a perfect world, some person would have emerged from nothingness to throw an hellacious beating on Youke for no apparent reason before he was called out on strikes.

Then, in the bottom of the fifth, Doug Mirabelli achieved one of the more remarkable feats one could imagine in a professional baseball game. He threw out a runner at third base who could not have done much to be safer. And any one who thinks Abreu was actually out is either a shameless Red Sox fan or a total and complete moron. Although, to be fair and to quote the Sinatra song at the same time, you can't have one without the other.

And there is very little that a Sox fan can do to try to answer my allegations. Not only because the average Red Sox fan barely has the intelligence to invilve him or herself in a "Less Filling" "Tastes Great" debate, but because the Lizard King of Red Sox Nation is on my side. If you watch the footage again, you'll see that the Remdawg agrees with me in both cases. The Sox got all the calls and still lost the game. And that's why I think the Yanks should have picked up an extra game out of this exchange.

I wonder now, whether this season's inevitable pennant looks ever so slightly less inevitable now. It might only be one game, early in a long season, but cracks might just start appearing in the facade of the 2007 Boston Red Sox. It would have been much easier if the Red Sox had just sent the Yankees a memo that the home team was expected to lose the game under the standards of modern decorum. How dare they find a way to win?

I have a habit of noticing things before they become apparent to Red Sox Nation. For instance, is it terribly unreasonable to wonder whether this series might mark a turning point in the respective fortunes of the Yankees and the Red Sox? Sooner or later, old age and summer heat will take their toll on Mike Lowell, Sox fans can only hop that his mother's little helpers can continue to make miracles. And on the horizon is the inevitable return of Roger Clemens.

Think about the series the two teams played last month. The Yankees were the ones scrambling to put together a series of spot starters; now the Red Sox are wondering if Josh Beckett's finger boo-boo might place too great a burden on the collection of spare parts waiting in the farm system. Granted Gabbard pitched the single greatest five inning start of this generation, but Sox fans must be sweating the fact that blisters and loose skin might stop their young ace from winning 30 games.

I think every one who is any one realizes that tonight's pitching performance from Chien Ming Wang was, if not exactly a miracle, then a good sized country wonder. He still has a long way to go before he will have earned the right to buy property right behind the Great Wall (on the good side, of course). Mike Mussina is allegedly healthy, and it might be possible that he could pitch to form for the first time in a long while. God knows he'll have to, nothing but the finest effort of a quality pitcher can beat a horse like Julian Tavarez.

The Schilling vs. Pettitte matchup on Sunday shapes up to be very interesting, since Pettitte probably should have beaten the Sox twice already this year. There was the bullpen collapse in the first game between the two back at Fenway, and then the short relief stint when I felt he had another inning in him, even though it was his side day. I know Andy's not as young as he once was, and it's a long season, but he seemed like the best chance the team had for winning that game when the Yanks needed to slow down the Red Sox momentum.

But even more than Wang's performance, the fact that Hideki Matsui could not have been worse today unless he used his bat to throw a beating on the entire Yankee pitching staff shows me that the Yanks just might have turned a corner as a team this season. I got the feeling as I watched them in April and earlier this month that if one guy (e.g. Abreu) went cold, the entire team would panic if he came up in a big situation. Then they'd go into a funk, and every player went cold.

Tonight, Matsui went 0-5 and left 7 on base. That was the type of performance that would have crushed morale and crippled momentum at any point prior to tonight. But his teammates picked him up, they put up 6 runs. Wang scuffed, shined and spat his way to holding the Red Sox to two runs (You know he must have cheated to keep that potent lineup to under 30 runs in 6.1 innings of work). If these Yankees can pull together as a team, with help on the way, I think we'll be looking back on this lead the way paleontologists look back at the dodo.

It is entirely possible that I'm seeing signs that aren't there because this recent Red Sox winning jag has been depressing me to the point that I have to clutch at straws, but I get the feeling that the Sox lead will be back down around 4.5 games come June 15th. This is the biggest lead in the division the Sox have had since what? 1995? The Red Sox were foundering until a late trade in 2004, so maybe this lead on May 21 isn't a good thing.

In other matters, why didn't some one tell me that Sunday was the 10th anniversary of Bill Simmons' first online column? Truly that was a date which will live in infamy. His recent "effort" to explain why he dislikes Dane Cook actually made me begin to like Cook. So what if Dane Cook showed up to a Crank Yankers taping wearing a Yankee cap, even though he came from Arlington, MA?

Obviously, I'm not going to criticize any resident of New England who doesn't feel obligated to root for the Red Sox on account of a coincidence of geography. But I do wonder when Bill Simmons became the arbiter of what attire from which teams residents of particular areas can rock in a free country? Then there is an issue stemming from a visit Cook made to the Jimmy Kimmel Live set while Simmons was a writer, where Dane struck the Sports Guy as a hypocrite and a fraud for being scandalized by bathroom humor before going on to carve out a niche for himself on film with similar material.

I find that particularly shocking, considering Simmons seems to love ripping guys like Isiah Thomas and then wilts when Isiah threatens him with a street beating. And when the Sports Guy plays the victim with aplomb when blogs like Deadspin and the Big Lead treat him harshly, it sends him lamenting the state of the internet. Alas that the internet allows people to do to Simmons what he has done to so many others as he built himself into the institution he is.

And then there's this story, which I devoutly hope is false. There is a rumor kicking around that Donovan McNabb might become a Chicago Bear. While the part of me that hates the Philadelphia Eagles would like to see them make a mistake like turning the team over to Kevin Kolb, who just might become the worst second round pick of all time, the part of me that become emotionally invested in the Bears NFC Championship season last year knows McNabb devotes most of his pregame preparation to fashioning a plausible excuse as opposed to finding a way to win. More on this later in the week...