It would take a Yankee fan to be naive enough to think that a three game sweep in this series means a damn thing. So what if the Red Sox had a chance to knock the Yankees out of contention in the AL East? So what if they had a chance to hurt the Yankees chances of getting the AL Wildcard? Dropping three straight games to your archrival is never a bad thing, right?

When you look at it, it's not as though the Yankees came in reeling from dropping three of four in Detroit. The Yankees threw their 1, 2 and 3 starters at Boston, while Boston countered with pitchers who weren't expected to win. And none of that would have mattered if Major League Baseball didn't pull a depressingly juvenile stunt in sending a representative to ensure that Terry Francona was wearing his uniform jersey while the Yankees had a man on base.

That one instance really cost the Red Sox the series. It had a major impact on the game played the night before and on this afternoon's game. Bud Selig owes the Red Sox an apology for that devious bit of trickeration. In all seriousness, while it was a strange incident, undoubtedly poorly timed and probably unnecessary, it's not really that big a deal.

If the Red Sox don't know how to play the Yankees with Jeter at second having faced that team 13 times prior to the game this season, then having their inspired leader on hand might not have been enough to help them there. After all, the team ought to know how to line up to defend Abreu or A Rod or Matsui in every conceiveale count no matter who's on what base. These guys in the Yankee lineup are fairly well known. The Red Sox see them on occasion, so nothing should disrupt their concentration on the task at hand.

However, nothing seems to be able to happen to the Red Sox these days that doesn't present complications. I'm not sure what to make of that incident which culminated in Joba Chamberlain's ejection. Yes, the Sox have hit A Rod a few times this season. But the Yankees don't seem to be the reactive type, or at least they haven't been in the Joe Torre era. Also, why Youkilis and why in the ninth with one out and a five run lead. It would make more sense to get him out as opposed to putting him on base and providing the Red Sox a spark to start a rally.

However, all that logic doesn't change the fact that he threw consecutive fastballs over Youkilis' head, entirely too close for comfort. I think the umpire made the right decision to eject him immediately after the second pitch. While I don't want to believe that Chamberlain was head hunting because it makes no sense in the situation, it's hard to argue with the fact that both pitches were essentially in the exact same location. One pitch can get away from you, but two is hard to explain.

Tonight, in the wake of a three game sweep at the hands of the Yankees, seems to be the perfect time for me to answer the recent attention that has been given to Red Sox Nation's presence in opposing stadiums. This is not a good thing. It's a symptom of the underlying problems in Major League Baseball.

Because the baseball season has devolved into a long, pointless tournament that only a very few teams can win because only they can afford to collect enough quality pieces to play at a high level, fans in a number of cities have long since given up on their local teams. Why pay to see a team that needs a series of major miracles to qualify for the postseason? So there are plenty of tickets to induce plenty of tools who have been priced out of attending games in Boston to travel to cities like Baltimore and Tampa and Kansas City.

Then there is the phenomenon of Red Sox Nation spreading like a virus through America. Since so many people can't afford to live in New England, there has been a diaspora of Red Sox fans. And since man businesses decided to forsake the expensive Northeast for cheaper regions, there are a ton of New England expatriates in Arizona, Florida, California and other such places. So the Red Sox have a small base in a number of other major league towns.

Also, this team and its myriad of vices draws to it with magnetic force every cutthroat, criminal, misfit, moron, hypocrite and douche in each city in which they play. Every person who thinks the infield fly rule has something to do with insects, every jackass who venerates the cliche fest that is Bull Durham, every person who always wanted to be a bully but never had the chance and every tool who thinks Bill Simmons is the lizard king is a potential Red Sox fan just waiting for the bandwagon to gather steam.

But those who remain and endure in New England are seldom any better than the new crop of Red Sox fans and the exiles. For every normal, sane, rational Red Sox fan that I know, there are at least ten that would sip the refuse at the Deer Island Sewage Treatment Plant if John Henry's crack staff of PR people broke the story that it contained vitamins and minerals. For instance, there is the fan who tells me things like JD Drew's numbers are comprable to A Rod's and Red Sox fans will regard JD Drew as a bargain next season.

And after 2004, there were those teary eyed losers who railed and raved about how much this team had meant to their ancestors of the nth degree that had endured all the losing but kept the faith. If one in thirty of that class of fan could prove an ancestor of theirs had been on of the 10,000 odd fans who managed to fill Fenway to 1/3 of its capacity for the final game of the single greatest player in the history of the franchise, then I'd be a little less vocal in my criticism.

For every fan (or informed adversary like me) who knows who Jackie Jensen was or has read the John Updike piece on Ted Williams' final game, there is a massive legion whose only connection to the days before Pedro Martinez came to town comes from nostalgia pieces by the CHB, Bob Ryan, Bill Simmons and others. Red Sox Nation is a waste of time and space. We would all be better off if they would shut up, and perhaps refrain from breeding.

What does not help is that the media, for the most part, coddles and even encourages these jackasses to even greater levels of jackassery. Bill Simmons, who ought to know better (but he's from Connecticut, so I make allowances), seems to enjoy this trend to an indecent level. Of course, I shouldn't be surprised the SPorts Guy feels that way, since these bandwagon fans seem to regard him as a spiritual leader and fall all over themselves to worship at his altar.

This piece from USA Today, which seems to have sparked this new wave of attention to Red Sox Nation, misses the key point that ought to be made about Red Sox fans. Red Sox fans are caught up in a connundrum that is all the more maddening for their inability to recognize and understand it. Red Sox fans have all of the vices of Yankee fans. They're loud, they bully people who don't see things their way, they're boring and they have an inflated sense of their own baseball IQ.

However, Red Sox fans have none of the virtues of Cubs fans, to whom they are often compared. Cubs fans are patient, they endure losing without the cynical, affected posture Red Sox fans developed and have not shed since 2004. Red Sox fans are much more like fans of the other Chicago team. Like the White Sox, the Red Sox lost for a very, very, very long time. And just as the stigma of being second team in second city has tainted the White Sox fans, constantly coming off worse than the Yankees year in and year out still wears on Red Sox fans, even in this post-2004 era.

For a change, I am not the only one railing against Red Sox Nation. Red Sox fans have become so arrogant and unpleasant that Jim Caple (author of The Devil Wears Pinstripes) has himself repented of being a Red Sox fan. Caple wrote this piece ripping Red Sox fans for the way they have comported themselves following the 2004 chamopionship run. It's really quite good. Not quite as good as a three game sweep by the Yankees, but still worth the read.

One more happy note before I sign off... The season series between the Red Sox and the Yankees stands at 8-7 in favor of the Bronx Bombers. Good times. Good times, indeed.

Life is full of situations that have many shades of meaning. For instance, there are those who believe that the Red Sox made a statement by sweeping the Giants. After all, over the weekend they added one game to their lead over the Yankees who could only take two of three from the reeling Mets. Even with fact that the Mets were losing games left and right, they're still a much better team than the Giants. I think the Metropolitans managed to prove that in destroying a Minnesota team that is supposed to be fairly good tonight.

As you would expect, given the title of this blog, I found myself singularly unimpressed with this weekend's sweep. Yes, the Sox held Bonds to one home run in what John Updike once described as their lyric little bandbox of a ball park. And they managed to touch up Barry Zito. But I must confess, I have never thought too much of Barry Zito. I've been wondering since he signed that massive contract this offseason whether he is better described as overrated or overpaid. Time will tell.

I did think it was shockingly generous of the umpires to give Daisuke Matsuzaka a win in Saturday's start. That 3-2 pitch to Rich Aurelia was never in the strike zone, at least not in this physical model of the universe. The bases were loaded and had Aurelia walked, Matsuzaka would likely have overreacted as he has done consistently when he feels upset at ball and strike calls. The Giants could have gotten a second run out of it, but at the very least, the game should have been tied.

I didn't bother to watch Sunday's game with the US Open on and all. I wasn't rooting for Angel Cabrera, but when I saw this quote: '"There are some players who have psychologists," he said. "I smoke.",' I wished that I had. I thought it was refreshing that he was smoking on the course. Most players are so afraid of creating a negative impression that they're afraid to do anything at all. It was nice to see someone not care.

Unfortunately, today I learned that I agree with Skip Bayless on a point. He thinks that there is a hole in Tiger Woods' legacy as a golfer. He has come from behind on a Sunday in exactly zero of the 12 major championships he's won. Nicklaus did it eight times. You'd think Eldrick would have managed to do that by now.

In a way, Woods reminds me of Tom Brady. Every time I hear people compare Brady to Montana, it bothers me. Yeah, Brady has led game winning drives in playoff games and Super Bowls. But it's never come when they needed something more than a field goal with less than two minutes. And he's always had Vinatieri. Until he has a moment like the Catch, or that drive against Cincinnati in Super Bowl XXII, Brady will always be a sunshine soldier in my way of thinking.

At the end of the day, it won't matter how many actresses Brady's knocked up or supermodels he's dated that will define his legacy as a quarterback but how many times he got his team only so far and handed over the ultimate responsibility to a place kicker. And when it's all said and done for Tiger Woods, if he's beaten Nicklaus' record of 18 majors without coming back in the final round to take one away from somebody, it's not quite as impressive as Nicklaus' record of 8.

Finally, the Sox are going to be out of town for a few days. I hope that the trip ends as well as it began tonight. Humpty Dumpty took the hill in Turner Field, and he seems to have finally (and somewhat refreshingly) put to rest that appalling inconsistency he's shown of late. Instead of following a terrible outing with a good one, he followed a terrible outing with yet another terrible start. With any luck he can continue down this path. Of course, 38Pitches might not be such a fun read for a lot of people, but I think I could find a way to enjoy it.

GREAT MOMENTS IN RED SOX HISTORY INSTALLMENT 1

As promised, here is the first of my great moments in Red Sox history series.

Dateline: 09/28/1960 - Boston, MA.

For those of you who don't know, Ted Williams played his last game on the 28th of September in the year of our Lord 1960. As I suspect most people who would describe themselves as Red Sox fans at this point might not know, Ted Williams was a man of many accomplishments. In addition to being a Marine pilot in two wars, Ted Williams was the last man to bat .400 for an entire season. He also holds the career home run mark for the Boston Red Sox (somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 more than Daivd Ortiz, although I have on reliable rumor that no one has dreamed of hitting more clutch home runs than Big Papi).

Many people might wonder why I should bother to remind Red Sox fans of the greatness of Ted Williams. Rest assured, I have my reasons. I sat and suffered through the "championship" season of 2004 in silence (In this space much more will be devoted to the fact that Dave Roberts was out at 2nd base, and the 2004 Cardinals played the worst World Series since 1968, but more pressing matters intrude). In the wake of their victory, I noticed that every Red Sox fan felt compelled to share the intimate details of his/her Red Sox fandom back into the heady days when William McKinley walked the Earth.

In the very short period of time that this site has been in operation, those who read it cannot have helped noticing that hyperbole is mother's milk to me. However, the degree to which I exaggerate is nothing next to what I witnessed from Red Sox fans in the wake of their startling reversal of the curse. Fans all across New England deluged media outlets with their stories. Everybody's grandfathers, great-grandfathers and various and sundry ancestors to the nth degree worshipped the ground upon which the local nine walked, and grieved a great grief each time the boys of summer fell short of baseball's ultimate prize.

Their is a curious blend of revisionist history that lingers in New England. It pervades our regional culture. If you don't believe me, pick up a bottle of Sam Adams. I don't recommened that you drink it, especially if your under 21. I do not enjoy Sam Adams. I treat my beer like my economics. In both cases, I prefer the macro variety for my own indulgence, but I digress. The point, such as it is in this instance, is that every image that appears on every bottle of Sam Adams beer is not Samuel Adams. I have heard a few different reasons for this. Whether it was the fact that the few surviving wood cuts or other images of Sam Adams were discarded because of his aesthetic shortcomings or because there were no surviving images, you must make your own decision. The simple fact of the matter is that the image on the Sam Adams logo is actually Paul Revere.

While it may seem to the untrained observer that I wandered off on an insane digression (an event all to common), there is (or should be) method to my madness. The stories which poured forth from Red Sox Nation in the wake of the triumph struck me as revisionist history. I went forth to Google, and I searched. I came across a piece that I first read as a child when the city named a street after Ted Williams. The Globe then reprinted it when the Splendid Splinter passed. It is by John Updike, but to read it you must go to Google, as I am not feeling charitable enough to post the link.

John Updike seems, on the surface, to have little in common with the typical citizen of Red Sox Nation. He was not born a Red Sox fan. He grew up in Pennsylvania. I imagine his interest in baseball might have withered if he had the misfortune to grow up in the world of Peter Gammons and Buster Olney. Nevertheless, he knew the game and he knew people. And somehow this writer from PA drove his car out to the lyrical bandbox of a park (his words -and a phrase, I believe he coined-, not mine) in which the Red Sox play to write the best piece on baseball in Boston and maybe of all time.

After all of that sound and fury, we get to what must masquerade as the point of this post. In Updike's brilliant piece, the author touches on the point that Ted Williams for all his talent, his unfailing work ethic, his patriotism and his success was somewhat underappreciated for his greatness. One could only imagine the horrors that would have been in store for him had he failed to run out the occasional ground out or harbored fundamentalist Chrsitian beleifs (Like Manny or Carl Everett, look at their run-ins with the CHB).

Although you might not realize it at first, I bring up Ted and his final game and John Updike to bring this point to your attention. For every email, voice mail, fax and letter that claimed this victory in 2004 redeemed multiple generations and their affections for the Red Sox, there is a fact that gives hope to people like me. It seems abundantly clear (if you believe Updike) that Red Sox Nation had ample warning that September 28, 1960 would be the one last final last time Ted Williams donned a Red Sox uniform in Fenway Park.

While every single man, woman and child who lived in Boston a generation or two ago loved the Red Sox and would have died a ghastly death in their defense, a mere 10,454 deemed it worthy to show up and watch the greatest Red Sox player of all time hit a home run in his final at bat. I don't know, nor do I particularly care to Google the capacity of Fenway Park as the 1960 season drew to a close. Somehow, I'm willing to bet everything I own that the stadium wasn't more than 1/3 full.

In the next few days, or weeks, lull yourselves to sleep, O Red Sox Nation, with the fact that in the twilight hours of the team's greatest player, your lovely little stadium was 1/3 full. Tell me that the town didn't become a baseball town until the Impossible Dream of 1967 (I might even buy it, if you can come up with a compelling reason for associating your team with possibly the worst film of Robert Goulet's career). Tell me that it was a day game, and you all had to work. Tell me that the stars weren't properly aligned for loyalty. Tell me whatever you want. Tell em that Ted never answered curtain calls, that he didn;t court the fan's affection.

None of these things will change the fact that Red Sox Nation failed to give Ted Williams the support he deserved. When you marshall your thoughts to criticize me, just think to yourselves, vassals of Red Sox Nation, that many times more people came out to watch the last game that Nomar played in a Red Sox uni. And when Trot Nixon departs from the Nation as it seems likely he will come October, he will pass on from our sphere with much more fanfare than Teddy Ballgame did 46 years ago.