Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out.

Ernest Lawrence Thayer used those words to conclude his famous opus, Casey at the Bat, which was published in the Examiner in 1888. I use them tonight because there is no joy in doucheville, with Varitek at the bat representing the tying run in the ninth inning. Do I even need mention that he struck out rather lamely on a pitch 2 and 1/2 feet out of the strike zone to conclude the threat?

We've come a long way, indeed, since the days when Varitek was the apple of Red Sox Nation's collective eye having stood so bravely against A Rod when he was armored in catching equipment (complete with mask) and A Rod wasn't. Now he is mired in a slump which is so catastrophic that he finally looks as ridiculous on the field as he does off it.

On the plus side, at least Tek is working ever so hard, even on his precious days off, to lift himself out of this slump by his proverbial bootstraps. Of course, to bowdlerize the Sean Connery character from The Rock, losers always whine about trying their best; winners go home and experience coitus with the prom queen. Rest assured, Red Sox Nation, that, with Tek under the watchful tutelage of Dave Madagan, this slump is sure to end soon enough.

Speaking of Madagan, I hope he considers the example of his predecessor closely. After all, former Sox hitting coach Ron Jackson was part of that nightmarish turnaround in 2004. Jackson, more than any other outside influence, was largely credited with the adjustments that turned David Ortiz from a guy with a lot of potential into the Papi we all know and love (but me, apparently). And it was Jackson who was one of those purged from the organization after 2006 and the epic collapse. Maybe Madagan should have rented...

Leaving that aside for the moment, I think it's time we got to the bottom of a serious injustice. According to the build-up to this series, this was supposed to be about bad blood between the teams. Jonathan Papelbon, among others on this pitching staff, vowed retribution for the Devil Rays not disbanding their organization after a pitcher hit Coco Crisp in Fenway without the expressed written consent of the Red Sox. Why is Tampa stubbornly insisting on playing baseball and not simply forfeiting each game?

Perhaps someone in the Red Sox PR office was asleep at the switch. Maybe the Rays didn't get the memo that they were supposed to be pushed around and laughed out of their own stadium in this series. Instead, they've won two games. There haven't been any brawls. How dare they. And to top it off, they continue to help Varitek make a fool of himself.

And as for Papelbon, it's hard to take revenge on an opposing team when you aren't called upon to pitch. Nevertheless, it might be possible that he has already taken revenge. I think we all presume too much when we think Papelbon, with his tragically limited intellectual capacity, knows what revenge is, much less how a man goes about taking same.

But again, the real meathead in this is Francona. I can see that pinch hitting Varitek this evening was a desperate effort to shock his light-hitting catcher into some small measure of offensive production. And Varitek was, apparently, going to come into the game with Wake leaving. But surely there must have been a better option available, as in some bench player who might actually get a hit once in a blue moon? Or maybe not.

Speaking of meatheads, I forget how long it's been since I ripped the CHB. Since he'd spent so much time covering the Celtics (why, I don't know) and I spent so much time ignoring the Celtics, there just didn't seem to be a point. But know that he's back to covering the Sox and coming at Manny with guns blazing, it's time to revist everybody's favorite Boston newspaperman with a room temperature IQ (sorry, Bob Ryan, but you need to do some work to get to room temperature status).

It never gets easy to read a Shaughnessy piece. Buried in the middle of this particular "effort" is a sentence that reads "no one wants to demonize Manny." Was the man born with no sense of irony or did he have to work to lose it? He's ripping Manny for shoving the travelling secretary to the ground (which was kind of beat, but no one is saying exactly what the man may have said to Manny to provoke the normally spaced out slugger into shoving him in the first place. Not that that makes Manny right, just that we could use more info). Doesn't that demonize Manny? Not to mention the headline "This time, Manny being Manny is unacceptable."

And I seem to recall Shaughnessy finding it tremendously risible when Pedro mad-dogged Don Zimmer to the turf in ought four. But apparently that was OK because the old man in question (who is, incidentally, considerably older than the Red Sox travelling secretary) was affiliated with another organization. Or perhaps Zimmer didn't see the incalculable potential of an aspiring cub reporter for the Boston Globe who was still struggling to shake off his uncanny physical resemblance to Dr. Who while Zim managed the Sox?

I also love Shaughnessy calling Manny fans sycophants (not that they aren't). After all, it can be ever so difficult to understand the CHB when he talks, what with the proximity of his lips to Larry Lucchino's derriere and all. That said, I really hope America's Prom Date is enough of a douche to let Manny go to another team because he dropped the travelling secretary with a forearm shiver. Wouldn't that be a grand gesture to the morons in Red Sox Nation?

And in other news, Dan Duquette is being probed by the state ethics commission for selling World Series tickets to the mayor of Pittsfield at face value when he was working to secure a city site for his minor league team to play in Pittsfield. If you're going to get caught for something like this, why not just make it an outright bribe? And I still hate Duquette after all these years, even though he reminds me of a slightly more amusing version of Dan Akroyd from Caddyshack II to his turn as the auto parts mogul in Tommy Boy.

If you've been reading this space regularly, I think you probably know that I hate Barry Bonds by now. And if you haven't, then I guess I ruined the surprise. But every once in a great while, a writer of such talent, perspicacity and eloquence comes along and makes me think for a fleeting moment that I ought to reconsider my opinion of the man who will hold the MLB record for most home runs hit over the course of a career any day now.

Tonight, that writer is Jay Mariotti. I know I spend a great deal of time in a blog that is supposed to be about my hatred for the Boston Red Sox ripping a "man" who writes for a newspaper 1,000 miles from Boston. Sometimes I almost feel badly about it, but then I read his columns and I grieve for Chicago. Mariotti's recent piece that comes dangerously close to being about something but degenerates into an incoherent rant about Bonds is more a cry for help than anything else.

I know I'm no stranger to an incoherent rant in this blog. But I'm generally drunk when I post jibberish, and I usually apologize for it. Also, this site is free. I don't get paid for it. I don't have any ads to click. So I think I have the right to criticize people who are paid handsomely to do a job and who are covered by an editing staff yet somehow manage to submit disgusting mishmashes of sentence fragments and run-ons for profit.

I wonder why an organization like NOW hasn't noticed that Mariotti is as capable of sexism as any figure they've protested recently. If I started a post with a line like: "Swollen ankles? What is he, pregnant?," I imagine I would get some nasty comments back, but Mariotti's piece was published in a big city daily. Where was the righteous indignation?

What worries me is that Cubs fans are signing petitions and hoping that Mark Cuban wins the bidding process for ownership of the team. You know how I know that Mark Cuban isn't the answer to the Cubs' problems? Jay Mariotti thinks it would be great if Mark Cuban bought the Cubs.

Considering the fact that the Mavericks have not only won every NBA title since Mark Cuban purchased the team but have managed to scrape together 3 Super Bowls, 4 Stanley Cups (they might have had the 5th if not for the lockout) and a runner-up finish in the English Premier League, Cuban will bring 5 or 6 World Series championships to Chicago from jump street. Or maybe I'm the one that thinks an epic collapse in an NBA Finals and a quick exit at the hand of the eight seed the following year isn't much of a resume. Cuban is a shameless self-promoter, not a winner.

Yes, Mariotti loves Cuban now. Just wait until that day when the Benefactor brings his act to Chicago. Mariotti will be the first guy to rip him for acting like a spoiled 3 year old when the Cubs end up on the business end of a close call. Or wait until Cuban can't get into a nightclub and acts like one of the princesses from My Super Sweet 16 when she finds out that Cindy down the block is having a more expensive party.

That's probably why Mariotti wants Cuban to buy the Cubs. That means at least 15 columns a year without any thought on the part of the writer. That's like catnip to a writer of Mariotti's eminence. I don't think a writer owes it to a city to root for its teams, but I do think I writer owes it to himself to be honest about his motives.

I really wish I didn't have to keep saying the same things over and over again, but Cuban can't be allowed to purchase the Cubs. Plus I'm sure John Henry is in favor of Cuban buying a franchise. That way there will be at least one owner who is a bigger tool than Henry with his quaint little Howard Hughes mania for cleanliness. I couldn't begin to think of an executive who would be a bigger waste of oxygen than Larry Lucchino, so I don't know who Cuban's right-hand man will be.

This story arc is taking the jam out of my doughnut, and that's not cool. The Red Sox lost again to the Royals, dropping two out of three to KC. And the Yanks beat Toronto, picking up yet one more game. I should be much happier than I am.

On the plus side, Dave Chapelle said his recent trip to the ER was due to exhaustion. Perhaps it's not as easy to bear the burden of being one-fifteenth as funny as you think you are as I thought. I'm not going to lie, I did like the first two seasons of his show on Comedy Central. And I didn't care one way or the other when he left the way he did. It was his business.

But when I saw him on Inside the Actor's Studio, that was it for me. For a guy whose credits are very meager, Dave Chapelle is an arrogant, obxious dude. My first problem is that there was no mention of the very prominent role Dave Chapelle played in Robin Hood Men in Tights. And the complaints that the studio turned Half Baked into a weed movie for kids didn't sway me. Even if it were the Citizen Kane of weed movies before the studio bastardized it for mass consumption, that doesn't mean the movie deserved to exist in its own right. If you don't want your movie to be altered, don't sell it.

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.

I don't know how I missed the trend, but when did Easter become a big deal again? I understand the religious aspects of the day, but as the Christian population of this country becomes incrementally less Christian with each passing year, you'd think that Easter would come and go with little notice. And then last night as I watched that travesty in Arlington, Texas, I noticed two fat guys in Red Sox jerseys sitting in the crowd wearing bunny ears.

Maybe that's what Easter is in the process of becoming, spring's answer to Halloween - a day which once had religious significance but has become an excuse for adults to act like children and for children to act like even bigger morons than they are on any given weekday. Unfortunately, thinking about Easter more as a day for masquerading than as a day for rebirth might take a little of the bloom of yesterday's impressive triumph over a very mediocre Texas Rangers team.

If you read Curt Schilling's blog post on the win, you'll believe that it was a tremendous performance by Jonathan Papelbon. Of course if you remember the press coverage of the decision to return Papelbon to the bullpen, you might recall that the team was to make a concerted effort to limit him to one inning appearances to protect his shoulder. Morgan and Miller pointed out that Francona is also talking about pitching Papelbon in the 8th and bringing in another pitcher to throw the 9th.

Of course, last night Papelbon pitched an inning and two-thirds. He came in with runners at the corners and only one out. He faced Michael Young and Mark Teixiera in that situation and put the kibosh on the Ranger rally. And somewhere between the Bronx and Minneapolis, Joe Torre would have started preparing his explanation for The Boss when the Red Sox win their first AL East crown of the millennium had he not been so utterly traumatized by the supremely dominant Papelbon.

As Curt Schilling astutely pointed out, the Red Sox return to Fenway for their home opener after having gone .500 on the trip. Things could be worse. And they should be a hell of a lot better. The Red Sox payroll for 2007 is higher than the combined payrolls for the Rangers and Royals. Perhaps I'm being unfair. After all, Larry Lucchino has said that he doesn't like talking about payroll, since it could put the Red Sox at a competitive disadvantage, and I wouldn't want to do anything to hurt the team. So I'll just remind you that neither the Rangers nor the Royals finished last season with a winning record.

I must say, I am not as worried about Papelbon's performance as Red Sox Nation should hope. First, I am not impressed with Mark Teixeira. After his 0 for in the World Baseball Classic (I remember how often I have disparaged that farce, which is why not even getting a hit in it is doubly pathetic) and his slow start last season, I just don't think he's as good as advertised. To be fair, he is currently hitting a very impressive .211 with an RBI to date this season.

Also, I don't think the Rangers lineup is as good as some have said. The entire world may love Michael Young, but it doesn't change the fact that he's hitting .154 at the moment. The team is currently struggling to find timely hitting. Let's not forget that the Rangers came into the Boston series reeling after being swept by the Angels.

So yes, the Red Sox bounced back in a big way yesterday. Schilling looked a million times better than he did against Kansas City. Papelbon slammed the door on the Rangers with authority. Ortiz came alive offensively, hitting his first two home runs of the season. And Manny hit the ball pretty well, even though he had little to show for it but some loud outs.

And yet I think this team ought to be more than a little concerned going forward. Big Schill may have had his groove back, but is the 7 inning 102 pitch performance an indication of great pitching or bad hitting? I would say a bit of both, but I'm an incurable pessimist.

Papelbon slammed the door shut, but he did so against two boppers who might have a little trouble hitting the floor if they fell out of bed at this point in the year. Plus, would Francona have gone to his fragile closer for five outs in the eighth inning of a game on the road in April if he had anything but warm bodies in his bullpen? I think not.

As well as one can hope Schilling, Beckett and Matsuzaka will pitch, I just can't see Red Sox Nation feeling confident in Tim Wakefield and Julian Tavarez at the end of the rotation. JD Drew is 9-23, and hitting .391 in his six games in right field. But what happens if he should slump? Julio Lugo is only hitting .261 at this point. Kevin Youkilis is due to turn back into a pumpkin any day now.

I am aware that the Yankees had a bigger advantage in terms of payroll disparity over their two opponents. And their starters have yet to see the sixth inning. And their defense looks pathetic. But I'm not a Yankee fan, I only root for them because every win for the Yanks is bad for Red Sox Nation. As long as things look bad for the Red Sox, I'm happy. And I get the feeling that things aren't going to go well against the Mariners.

Ladies and gentlemen, after long absence, I'm back. It's quite fortunate for me that it coincides with the Boston Massacre 2006. When I last posted on July 24, the Sox were in first place. Now the Sox are 6 and 1/2 games back in the division and four back in the wildcard following today's loss. It's not every day that the team you hate above all others loses 5 consecutive games to their most hated rivals over the course of four days, so I trust you'll forgive me for gloating a little bit.

Unfortunately, nothing so enjoyable comes without cost. In this case, the cost is nearly substantial enough to outweigh the triumphant sweep. Dan Shaughnessy, better known to three generations of science fiction fans in the British Isles as Dr. Who, is back with a vengeance. This presents me with a dilemma. You who read this might think that because I wish to annoy and depress Red Sox Nation I should have no problem with the CHB. After all, his apparent goal in writing what he writes the way he writes it seems to be to cause the greatest amount of aggravation to the greatest number of New Englanders.

However, I do not like the CHB as a writer or as a guest commentator on various and sundry TV and radio programs. It is my opinion that his MO can be explained thusly: he wraps a misdirected sense of moral outrage in poorly worded prose rife with awful allusions and ghastly turns of phrase (just check my earlier post which enshrined him in the Max Mercy HOF). He pretends to be a defender of the people and a chronicler of Red Sox history because those two angles can fill half of his columns with the barest minimum of effort. And for some strange reason, he has decided that the safest place for him to conclude his not so illustrious career is safely (he hopes) ensconced in Larry Lucchino's pocket.

In another of my past posts (it's been so long that I am willing to commit the sin of self-reference again), I drew from the film Kelly's Heroes to criticize Terry Francona's managerial style. I will do so again, this time to draw an interesting parallel to the CHB, albeit one that is unfair to the original. In the film, there is an exchange between the platoon sergeant Big Joe played by Telly Savalas and the corrupt supply sergeant Crap Game played by the immortal Don Rickles. Big Joe accuses Crap Game of only taking risks when he smells a profit, and Crap Game's defense was merely to say: "Well, I'm coming out now." Shaughnessy's piece in this past Sunday's Globe was his version of emerging when he smelled a profit.

As much as it pains me to defend America's Prom Date, I think I have to now. I am amazed that Theo still has a job after the CHB so elegantly skewered him with this gem: "The computer-geek management style has been thoroughly exposed in the last two days and there's a perfect storm brewing upstairs on Yawkey Way." For an unfortunate change of pace this July/August, Dan Shaughnessy found himself in the cat bird seat.

If Theo didn't make a trade, the CHB could attack him for that. If Theo parted with one of his young arms to fill one or two of the holes that riddle his lineup and it didn't pan out, the CHB could have had a field day with that situation. Of course if Theo made that theoretical trade and the Prom Date turned out to be this generation's Lou Gorman (by that I mean selling a hot prospect to rent a player for a single pennant race), the CHB would be set to wind out his career rehashing that mistake 25 times a season until he retired. And in the worst case, if Theo had acquired Bobby Abreu, the CHB could complain that the Sox couldn't afford to take on the remainder of this season's salary, next year's $15 million and the $2 million buyout for 2008. It must be nice to have to do so little to earn your daily bread.

I can only hope that the CHB didn't strain his formidable intellect when he crafted this: "Odd that Henry would be celebrating Epstein's engagement at a time when the honeymoon is officially over for the most popular and bulletproof general manager in Boston sports history." The late, great Ernest Hemingway might have classified that as the one true sentence which he himself so desperately sought, provided that Hemingway were a dreadful writer and a mental midget.

Before the CHB stepped down from his soap box, he fired this parting shot at America's Prom Date: "The cruise is over and so is the free ride for Theo. No disgrace in that, it happens to all of them, but the Sox need a quick turnaround to keep Epstein out of the shark-infested waters that devoured the likes of Lou Gorman and Dan Duquette." I feel compelled to point out that the CHB tailored this piece around the engagement party John Henry threw for Theo on his yacht, lest you get the impression that the nautical references were completely from left field.

I was unaware that Theo got a free ride. After all, there was the CHB to carp (couldn't resist the bad pun against the shark-infested waters, which must surely have included a small element of ego on the part of the author) at him during his tenure as Sox GM. As for Theo being bulletproof and maybe sharing the fate of Lou Gorman and Dan Duquette, I can't believe that such a perceptive and enlightened knight of the keyboard could ignore one simple fact. Unlike Dan Duquette, Lou Gorman, Haywood Sullivan and every other GM from 1918 to 2004, Theo presided over a World Series championship team. Or maybe Dan happened to be on vacation in 2004. Maybe he had a lot of work to do in his side job, traveling in a phone booth protecting the space-time continuum against the Daleks.

There are a few other facts that the CHB might want to consider before he takes to the keyboard and charges Theo like Don Quixote going after the windmills. First, unless I missed something, no World Series champion has repeated since the Yankees in 2000. Second, the fans I talk to don't seem quite ready to mutiny. And third, he ran the show when the team won the World Series for the first time since 1918. I know, I said that before but it bears repeating.

Of course the piece wouldn't have been complete without a quote from the CHB's puppeteer, Larry Lucchino. The president of the Sox had this to say:

"This is not the best time for me to offer comment. I'm a little agitated, as
the average fan is. Everybody feels a sense of disappointment about these first
three games. I would understand if the manager is keenly disappointed in the way
these first three games have gone. It's still a long season. Come and talk to me
later."

According to the CHB, John Henry was unavailable for comment. Theo, or "young Theo" as the CHB insists on calling him, was also unavailable when the CHB was writing his article. Of course, this was the day before America's Prom Date faced the press for his now famous 26 minute grilling on Sunday. I started wondering whether Lucchino kept the CHB locked up in his basement like the gimp from Pulp Fiction, but that was far too frightening a prospect to dwell on.

I had intended to gloat like crazy over the debacle that this series was. Then I started thinking that it might be just a little early to start a victory lap. The Red Sox have had an irritating habit of surviving improbable situations of late. So I was checking out some of the stories on boston.com. And then I read the CHB's latest "effort." His article was so well conceived and well written that it inspired the pseudonymous author of Sedition in Red Sox Nation to waste his first post in nearly a month defending a guy he's attacked since the birth of this blog in April. It's amazing what a talented writer can achieve.

Start spreading the news... the Sox have lost two straight to the Yankees. I wonder now, what the confident Red Sox fan who told me that he'd live with a 12-7 split in the season series will have to say tomorrow. I laughed when he said it to me, and I'm laughing now. Granted, it's still early in the season and two games remain in this series, but the Yanks beat Josh Beckett like he stole something, and they survived a tight game where David Pauley pitched disturbingly well.

One has to wonder what might have been had Manny not been thrown out at second by Johnny Damon of all people. I imagine the Jim Romes and CHBs of the world will have a field day with that one. Of course, Manny was wrong. But at least he was running full speed. I am inclined to sympathize with him when the media attacks him, even though his mistakes and inconsistent behavior is good for the stated purpose of this blog. I just hate the CHB and Jim Rome. Where have you gone, Jim Everrett? Please come back and beat Jim Rome down for auld lang syne.

And if Melky Cabrera didn't make that amazing catch to rob Manny of the game tying home run, would these tools still be sharpening their cleavers for ManRam? I'm sure they would, but even the self-described "hard edged commentator" Jim Rome would have to tone down his burn. Or maybe he wouldn't, since he doesn't seem to be overly concerned with looking ridiculous, sanctimonious and hypocritical all the time.

A while back, I happened to be watching Cold Pizza even though it usually ends up irritating me. They had the frauds from Yankeehater.com on to talk about their site, the Sox Yanks rivalry and the seemingly viable lawsuit against them for trademark infringement. I don't think these guys are frauds because they hate the Yankees, or even because they like the Sox (for the record, some of my best friends are Red Sox fans). I think they're frauds because of their top 3 Yankee haters of all time list they mentioned on the air.

This list is so pathetic that I can't adequitely ridicule it, or even comment on it more fully without descending into profanity, which, to this point, is apparently the only virtue of this blog. Number one on the list is Ben Affleck. This is so obviously an attempt to grandstand and garner attention, not to mention fawn on one of the worst actors of our time. I think Ben Affleck's career was best summed up by the South Park guys in one of the songs from Team America. Since this is a blog, you can Google the lyrics, but if must download the song, please do so legally.

Number two on the list is Larry Lucchino. I don't know Larry Lucchino personally, and God willing, I'll never have the distinct displeasure of making his acquaintance. From the little I know about him, I suspect that he harbors no genuine emotion against the Yankees. I think it's a convenient way to call more attention to himself in an effort to acquire the cult status enjoyed by many associated with the team (mostly without reason or merit, like Jerry Remy).

Number 3 was Carlton Fisk. If even half of the legends told about Fisk are true, he was 3 times the Yankee hater that Affleck and Lucchino would make if they became some sort of Voltron made out of grandstanding, phony Yankee haters. I understand that there was a huge personal and professional rivalry between Fisk and Thurman Munson, and naturally, since Fisk is human, Carlton seems to have downplayed that in the wake of Munson's tragic death. Nevertheless, Fisk was the only legit guy on the list and these frauds had him in third place.

As a concerned citizen, I demand an investigation into Don Orsilo's hairline. What is going on there? Is it human hair, animal, vegetable or mineral? I can't decide myself. Part of me thinks that it is in fact human hair, but some (if not all) was grown on a different head than the one rocking it now. Part of me thinks he was victimized by a bad dye job and insuffienct hair plugs. But I think the most likely explanation is that he gets his hair styled by the guy who used to paint the hair onto the old GI Joe action figures that I had when I was a kid. Perhaps the hair is what makes him think he could hit .260 in the majors (a feat that seems surprisingly difficult for Big Papi so far).

What can I say about the Red Sox in the last few days? It was nice to see them struggle so mightily against the Devil Rays Scott Kasimir (probably misspelled his name, but who cares?). Then there was last night's media circus for the return of Doug Mirabelli. Imagine if he'd been a .300 hitter or an every day player?

It was a big coup for America's Prom Date. I wonder how much it cost the city, and will John Henry reimburse the tax payers?

Of course, Johnny Damon returned to the Fenway for the first time, and was lustily booed. A lot has been made of whether or not this was justified, since he did contribute so much to the team in his tenure with the Red Sox. Personally, I don't think the fans owed him any more than he owed them. I do, however, wonder if there might be more than the casual fan (or the die hard who drinks 30 beers in the stands) perceives to this situation.

Could the dramatic attention paid to the return of a very average role player have been a smoke screen on the part of America's Prom Date? Could he have his own covert reasons for trying to distract the fans from Johnny Damon's first appearance in Fenway as a Yankee?

I couldn't help but notice that Damon, who I was told thrived in hostile environs as a member of the Red Sox, may as well have left his bat in the dugout when he went to the plate for all the good it did him and his team. He also played the field as though he'd never set foot in the stadium before. I don't know whether he'd have caught the Ortiz homer if he'd have been better positioned or took a better line to the ball, but at least it might have been easier to watch the ESPN shows today if he had.

Then there was the fly ball that Jeter overran. It was somewhat amusing to see Manny, whose defensive inconsistencies have been beaten to death by this point, helping Wily Mo Pena track down fly balls in center field. It was somewhat surprising to see Damon, who had enjoyed a reputation as a solid defender (except for the fact that he throws abysmally), found himself out of position at times and was less than helpful to his teammates. I imagine one could attempt to explain this by bringing up the fact that Jeter is a Gold Glove winner. He is also a veteran of many games in Fenway, whereas Wily Mo is brand new to the team, the stadium and a natural right fielder.

I don't mean to insinuate that he was part of some deep seeded conspiracy with America's Prom Date and John Henry (who would have some nickname based on his bizarre Howard Hughes like obsession with neatness on his yacht if I had the time to think of one). Actually, I do mean to insinuate that, but I mean it jokingly. He had a bad game. I imagine he was nervous coming back to Fenway, and the boos and money thrown in his direction rattled him just a little bit. I seriously doubt that Theo, Damon and JH are a new Trilateral Commission. Among the three of them, they don't seem to possess the intellectual capacity or the moral turpitude.

Every once in a great while, I find myself sharing something with the citizens of Red Sox Nation. This past offseason, it was a profound sense of disappointment that Johnny Damon was leaving town. I believed (and still do) that he was old and injured. I don't think he'll be the same player he once was. I really wanted the Red Sox to overpay for him. And then the Yankees got into the picture. I was not pleased.

I am not a Yankees fan, but I don't think they're the Evil Empire either. As a native Bostonian, I never liked New York teams, but because I hate the Red Sox and the vocal, oppressive contingent among their fans, I found myself warming up to the Yankees. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, as the old saying goes.

I also found it slightly hypocritical of Larry Lucchino to come out and call the Yankees the Evil Empire after they out-overpaid (not a word, I know, but sometimes flagrant abuse of syntax is required to remind Red Sox fans of recent unpleasantness) for Jose Contreras. Lest we forget that the Red Sox booked every room in the hotel where Contreras was staying to try to corner the market on him.

The Red Sox aren't exactly the Twins or the Pirates, after all. They spend as freely as their means allow, like the Yankees do. The real issue between the two teams is that Big Stein has a bigger stadium and better infrastructure for raising revenue from his team. And if you don't believe me, watch the bidding war that will develop over Clemens if the opportunity arises.

That is just one of the reasons I hate the Red Sox and the majority of their fans. They sit there and swallow the organization's hypocrisy as though it were their job. Like all hypocrites everywhere, I hate little more than I hate hypocrisy. I think the blanket generalizations and wild allegations I have made against the Sox in the short history of this blog are ample evidence of this. Nor do I anticipate that I will stop such behavior. But I admit that I am a hypocrite, which makes me less hypocritical than. At least that's what I tell myself.

Since I lost whatever narrative thread was supposed to tie this post together, I think it's time to sign off. But before I go, I think it's good to go out on a more positive note. I was watching the TNT Basketball Half Time Show tonight during the Chicago-Miami game, and I heard one of the best lines Charles Barkely has ever delivered.

Kenny Smith was wearing a velour suit with some kind of rhinestone trim. And whenever he moved in his seat, the things would bump into the desk and make noise. During one of Barkley's monologues, he was distracted by that noise. So Sir Charles turned to him and hit him with the line: "Where did you get that suit? Toys R Us?"

I thought it was quite funny. I also enjoyed the follow up: "What did you buy it at TJ Max?" And I think he hit the mark when he complained of some of the fouls called on Shaq by saying: "After all, this isn't the WNBA."

Good night and go Blue Jays.