Today, the Max Mercy Hall of Fame welcomes its fourth member. It's been a long time since the last such ceremony. It is difficult, though, when almost all of the sportswriters cited in this space frequently (Bob Ryan, Jay Mariotti and Dan Shaughnessy) have been inducted. Jackie MacMullan is safe, for now, because her feature on the travesty that is the Celtic business model was too good.

So that leaves the man, the myth, the loser ... Bill Simmons. You know him in his capacity as the Sports Guy on ESPN.com's Page 2. Of late, when I talk to the handful of people who have followed this blog since the beginning, I've been calling Simmons the Zach Braff of sports journalism. Never having seen any of Braff's films, I draw the comparison from the sitcom Scrubs, where he plays the somewhat less than masculine Dr. John Dorian.

I don't know Bill Simmons, so I might be off base here, but I could see him sitting in front of his computer daydreaming about a floating head sportswriter. In Scrubs, Braff's character daydreams that his head and his body can detach so that he can accomplish two slightly less than masculine pursuits at the same time. I could see Simmons wishing that he could leave his body walking on the treadmill while he watches the View or whatever he watches to psyche himself up to do what he does.

In addition to his resemblance to Zach Braff, I have other problems with Simmons the writer. First, he made himself into the "celebrity" that he is ripping guys like Isiah Thomas and saying some harsh things while he did it. That was fine, but as soon as a blog like Deadspin dares to crack a joke or two at his expense, Simmons starts whining about how evil blogs can slander people with impunity.

Then there is the fact that Simmons continually reminds his minions that he is a basketball expert and has seen every meaningful Celtics home game in person from the mid 70s to 2003. I do not necessarily feel competent to dispute his status as an expert, but I would like to remind those few who will read this that Simmons didn't begin to criticize Ainge and Banner 17 for the mockery of a great franchise that they have foisted on the people of Boston until the tail end of this season. Let's not forget that Simmons didn't always seem to disapprove of tanking games.

So what if none of the sports media figures in New England had dared to/bothered to do same? Does that somehow give Simmons credence because he willfully ignored the dreadful effects of the Walker trade until very recently? I have been ripping Ainge for the benefit of my small body of readers for a year, which doesn't seem very impressive but can be explained because this site is barely 13 months old at this point. I haven't gotten a cookie for my efforts, so I don't think we should give Simmons one either.

For a long time, I've been thinking about bestowing this honor on the Sports Guy. I held back because I thought he was funny, a virtue which covers a multitude of sins for a writer. His most recent effort on the big fight and the announcement of the Yankees signing this weekend wasn't funny, though. I think after all these years, Simmons is now a prisoner of his gimmicks like the unintentional comedy scale and anecdotes about his super-cool friends. Any chance he had to progress as a writer is probably gone by now, so it seems like as good a time as any for his induction.

Bill Simmons has ten reasons he is happy the Yankees signed Clemens. The underlying premise of his list is that he has never forgiven Clemens for leaving Boston in the manner in which he left. See, this all unfolded in the days before Simmons became an online celebrity so Roger Clemens was not informed that he owed Bill Simmons, as the voice of Red Sox Nation, something more than 192 career wins.

Maybe Clemens could have worked harder to stay in shape over his last seasons in Boston, maybe he shouldn't have confirmed for every one that he was in fact mailing it in by coming alive and striking out 20 Tigers at the tail end of a mediocre 1996 season, but he did. Maybe Roger shouldn't have waxed poetic about leaving Boston to play close to his home in Texas before he signed with Toronto, but he did. And when he was traded to New York in 1999, he really hurt Bill Simmons. Red Sox fans have gotten over that for the most part, and it's time Simmons did as well.

I found the repeated efforts to drop so many not even remotely subtle hints that Clemens has prolonged his career through the use of banned performance enhancing substances to be in poor taste at best, and questionable ethically at worst. Leaving aside for a moment that the only link between Clemens and performance enhancers comes out of the Jason Grimsley trial (which makes it sort of like using material from McCarthy's hearings), there is the fact that Clemens has not undergone any inexplicable physical transmutations like Barry Bonds and his gargantuan cranium.

As for the simple question of his age, Nolan Ryan did break down in his mid-40s, but he also threw a no-hitter in the season in which he turned 45. And contrary to popular opinion, Cy Young won all of his 511 games by the time he was thirty. No pitcher has been able to perform in his mid-40s ever, in the history of Major League Baseball. Not even once. Unless they had chemical help.

Hell, did you think that the legendary Satchel Paige pitched as long as he did through good fortune and hard work? Come on. He was famous for saying he kept himself young by swinging his arms as he walked to jangle his juices around. The operative word there is juice.

Also, it was quite mature of a man who spends 90% of his professional life waxing poetic about his various roadtrips and sojurns in the warm summer rain with J Bug and Hench and Joe House to beat to death the joke that Clemens and Pettitte might be more than friends. It's good to see the voice of Red Sox Nation rise above the frat-boy homophobia that so endears Red Sox Nation to mature Americans secure enough in their identity to refrain from making childish jokes.

There were a couple of other gems in this piece. I liked his little joke about Josh Beckett maybe winning 30 games. I, for one, would love to see that. Not so much because it would carry the Sox to their first division title in many years, but because it would hurt the franchise down the road, and hurt it badly. After winning 30 games in 1968 derailed a promising career for Denny McLain, no pitcher will ever challenge that mark again. It's like setting the record for carries in a season by a running back in the NFL. The record might as well come engraved on a tombstone.

I also love the fact that Simmons missed the real error made by the Red Sox in this situation. It wasn't allowing Clemens to get away and sign with the Yankees, it was making an offer to him in the first place. In case you may have forgotten, Schilling is planning to play at least one more year but he is only under contract for this season. So in offering a prorated $18 million to Clemens, the Red Sox may have unwittingly raised the compensation and benefits package they will have to offer Big Schill to retain his services.

I do not mean to imply that Schilling will want to travel on his own terms the way Clemens does. Or that Schilling will wait until a team with deep pockets and a big hole needs to scare up a pitcher in May or June. But he is going to have it in the back of his mind that they offered Clemens a considerable salary and assented to his other demands just to try to keep him away from the Yankees. And there is plenty of space in that massive dome to hold onto simple facts like that, since it's not exactly bumping up against profound insight into the mysteries of the universe.

Then again, if Simmons didn't miss points, he probably would not have made it all the way to the Max Mercy Hall of Fame. Now there is little to do but wait for some enterprising soul to write a companion volume to Simmons' epic "Now I Can Die in Peace". I would suggest "Well...We're Waiting" for a title since he's so fond of quoting Caddyshack.

Thanks to the good people over at Deadspin, we have another tool of note segment to bring to your attention tonight. And for the first time, it is a member of the Boston Red Sox. Newly acquired relief pitcher JD Durbin is a tool. In fact, he might even be an archtool. Just look at the picture below, where he is rocking a cooler as a garment.



The only good thing to say about him wearing a cooler as though it counted as clothing is that it nearly conceals the fact that he is also rocking a banana hammock. I think we all know that the odds of a dude who has rocked a banana hammock at any point in his life being cool (or even remotely well-adjusted) are not very good. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that it would be impossible for a guy who had ever worn a banana hammock to be cool at any point thereafter if I didn't believe in miracles.

There are those who might say the Sox acquired Durbin because they are in dire straits in the bullpen. Those who know a little about the business of baseball know that there's no way that a brain trust of Henry, Lucchino, Epstein and Francona would hobble the best baseball team that will not win a title this season with a thin bullpen. They acquired a pitcher who needs a serious transformation to become mediocre like JD Durbin so that this team will have a bigger douche on the team than JD Drew.

They know that the average Red Sox fan is dumb enough or drunk enough to be easily confused by the same first initials and a similar sounding last name. So when JD Drew cools down and hits the DL for the first time six weeks from now, there will be another underperforming JD for Red Sox Nation to kick around. Otherwise the fans would start in on Drew, or maybe Lugo who will join Coco Crisp in the failed leadoff hitter category and Edgar Renteria and Alex Gonzales in the list of shortstops who haven't quite cut the mustard since they let Orlando Cabrera go.

It requires only a glance at JD Durbin's myspace page to see that he is a tool. A total tool, even. Based on the fact that he readily and articulately expresses his interest in both tits and ass, we can reasonably infer that Mr. Durbin is neither a gentleman nor a scholar, as a gentleman or a scholar would find a slightly subtler manner in which to convey his depravity. Fortunately, although its citizens believe themselves to be intelligent and sophisticated, Red Sox Nation is the perfect place for a shallow nitwit. It is, in fact, the perfect disguise to blend in with a crowd of Red Sox fans, regardless of gender.

Unfortunately, he has set his profile to private since Deadspin commenced to rip on him. Apparently, any one who has had a picture taken with Garth Brooks and Tricia Yearwood is cool enough to skate past the shallow headline, and the faux depth of the quote "what hurts the most is watching her walk away." Too bad Deadspin left more than enough incriminating evidence from his page to make him worthy of a tool of note segment.

First, he has a dog. When I quoted WC Fields maxim: Nobody who hates kids and dogs can be all bad, I meant it. I hate dogs. Dogs are very much like people, in fact they have better personalities than a depressingly large segment of the human race. But that's not exactly a ringing endorsement. That's even before treating the fact that he named his dog "Hoss." Naven R Johnson had a better name for his dog.

And there's the banana hammock and cooler ensemble. There is no way short of a gun or maybe one of those Crocodile Dundee type survival knives that I would be caught dead in a banana hammock. And it has nothing to do with insecurity. No man has the body type for a garment like that. Men who wear banana hammocks ought to be arrested.

What frightens me is that an idiot like JD Durbin could become a sort of cult celebrity in Boston, like a shallow, ignorant frat boy version of El Guapo. If he pitches remotely well, he'll be fighting off the sorostitutes in Daisy Buchanan's with a stick. God knows, he'll probably have his own reality show by season's end. And in the meantime, between Durbin and Papelbon, the Red Sox bullpen could be the dumbest unit on any team in any sport.

Sooner or later, lack of depth in the bullpen will hurt the Red Sox. What a shame it will be when that day comes. In the meantime, I'm trying not to let the beating they laid on Weaver and the Mariners this afternoon worry me too much.

First, I'm sorry about that last post. It just wasn't funny. Between that and the extended rant on the Country Music Television 100 Greatest Duets of All Time Countdown, my readership has dropped significantly. Part of the problem is that I'm a bad blogger. I just don't want to post as often as I should to draw enough traffic to this site consistently. I also don't want to be that guy that writes one or two original sentences and then blogs about what every other blog is blogging.

The rest of the problem is that I've been in a bad mood lately. Baseball season is starting up again and the optimism of Red Sox Nation has been aggravating me. Not that you haven't heard 10,000 times at this point, but Daisuke Matsuzaka pitched a near flawless round of batting practice the other day. I've said it before and I'm sure I'll say it again, but enough already. JA Adande was absolutely right on Around the Horn today. Until he pitches and wins in a game that counts, who cares?

The answer to that not entirely rhetorical question is apparently 2 million Red Sox fans who hibernate until spring training starts. I think it was growing up with this phenomenon every time football season ended that turned me into the bitter enemy of Red Sox Nation that writes this blog in my darksome lair. Actually, it's only dark because I don't feel like getting up and turning on the light. Plus, when does anyone ever get a chance to use a word like darksome in this day and age. But back to the matter at hand...

Red Sox pitching coach John Farrell assures us that Matsuzaka is as advertised. Leaving aside for a moment the question of how serious were Red Sox hitters taking a batting practice session this early in the training program, the real question is what did we expect the pitching coach to say? Could it be lost on Mr. Farrell that he got the job because the pitching coach was one of those purged in the race to play the blame game after last season's collapse? Is it not present in the back of his mind that Francona probably won't survive another season if they don't make the playoffs?

I would be much more convinced that he's giving the media his honest opinion had he come out and said that Matsuzaka had this, that and the other thing to work on going forward. I didn't really expect him to come out and say that Matsuzaka sucked, but I just want to see one other person in New England who isn't out to praise or bury Caesar until some results are in. I guess that isn't entirely honest, since I'm hoping like crazy that Daisuke comes in and falls flat. But at least I'm waiting for it to happen before I start shooting off my mouth. Of course having to climb out of the burning wreckage of the Bears bandwagon a few weeks ago has tempered my eagerness to predict any outcomes for a while.

One thing I resent about this story is that for as much ESPN coverage as I watched over the weekend, I had to wade through half of that article in USA Today before I found out that the hitters Matsuzaka faced were minor leaguers. Even if he faced Ortiz, I would not have put much stock in the performance at this stage (considering pitchers and catchers have already been in camp for a week, and should be somewhat less rusty than position players). But to get all kinds of crazy over pitching to four minor leaguers on February 24th? That seems insanely optimistic, even for Red Sox Nation.

I have some concerns about the proposed three strike conduct policy being bandied about NFL circles these days, but you'll have to wait until tomorrow (on the off chance that you care what I have to say). The rest of today's post will be devoted to a disturbing trend that is creeping me out this week. I've had enough of people shaving their heads. First it was Britney Spears. Now it's Sean Salisbury.

I know that's not a link to a story on his shaved head. I'm not sure any stories exist on it at the moment. It's only an hour since I saw it on Sportscenter. But I found that site and had to link it. Join his online team at your own risk. I just think it's gone too far. He looks horrible, even though he wasn't exactly a looker in the first place. Britney looks terrible, but she wasn't better for the alleged drinking and drug use. So no more head shaving. Of course if I find out that he has cancer, I'll be looking to crawl into a hole and die of shame, but what would this blog be if I didn't have to come out and apologize for a statement that made me look like a giant tool every couple of weeks or so?

At the risk of being a giant hypocrite, you have to read Deadspin today. There are so many things worth noting. First, Rome is Burning will/might be preempted next fall for an NFL Live style show on college football with the Gameday crew. This is great news, even though I hate Lee Corso and Chris Fowler because I hate Jim Rome much more than the two of them combined. And the tool from Kentucky would have been perfect for a tool of interest segment if they hadn't beaten me to it.

Also there is the camouflaged Bible. I never realized how many defenseless animals go unshot because unwitting hunters scare them off with the Good Book. Now, if this were one of those fake Bibles hollowed out to hold booze bottles, I could see a market for it. Who knows, maybe I'm on the road to being a good blogger? Today, blogging about other blogs...two days from now...daily posts.