Now that the Patriots have beaten a quality AFC opponent on the road, I guess we can stop concentrating on Tom Brady's body language for a while. Like most people who watch football, I was not surprised that Brady looked unhappy, to say the least, on the field against Denver. The team didn't play particularly well, and they lost the game. It would have been a much bigger deal if Brady took that in stride, but people need things to talk about and write about.

One thing that nobody mentioned in the one million and one analyses of Brady's body language that came out in the past week is the great personal strain in his personal life. As America became metrosexualized in the last 10 or so years, one issue was neglected. What happens when a metro goes bald?

With the recent pharmaceutical advances, male pattern baldness has lost much of its sting. However, there are some who have concerns about the chemicals in these drugs, particularly the need to keep hair loss medication away from pregnant women, or women who might become pregnant at some point. The trouble is, no high profile metrosexual has gone bald with dignity (if that's possible). Brady is blazing a trail for metrosexuals everywhere, and that must be difficult for him. Maybe the media needs to ease up on him a bit, and let him work through this issue.

There were a few things that disappointed me during this weekend's games. Like most people, I'm sick of seeing Peyton Manning in his 25,000 commercials. I understand that he's a high profile player in America's most popular professional sport, but for the love of God, there must be one or two other guys out there. I must confess that I would take the money, so I don't fault him for being in all the ads. I blame the agencies which create the ads and the companies that pay him to appear in them. Imagine the horrors which would be unleashed if he had won a championship? One would never be able to see any sporting event or TV show without seeing Junior Simple.

Another thing that disappointed me was learning that a certain balding metrosexual sent Matt Hasselbeck a scouting report on Branch from John Madden during the Sunday night game. I understand that baldies have to stick together, and there is an element of professional courtesy involved. But in the end, they are quarterbacks on two teams that might end up contending for a Super Bowl berth. Why try to help out somebody that wants to win it all when you want to win it all? It doesn't make sense to me.

Finally, there is the Dockers ad. If I saw that stupid commercial one more time today, I think I would have lost my mind. I still have that insipid "Go, boy, go" song stuck in my head. I hate when that happens. But at the same time, I hope those of you who read this have it echo in your minds all day. "Go, boy, go." "Go, boy, go." Over and over. "Go, boy, go." It's very catchy, isn't it? "Go, boy, go." You can thank me later. "Go, boy, go." Now stop.

And one more thing, in a weird way, it's bad for Notre Dame that Illinois won this week. All of a sudden that impressive 19 point fourth quarter comeback against Michigan State looks quite a bit less impressive. The Spartans managed one offensive touchdown against a team that allowed 20 points to Rutgers in one quarter. A quarterback named Juice Williams threw one of the biggest wounded ducks that turned into a long TD for the Illini.

There might be something to be said for the Spartans going into the tank after the emotionally devastating defeat, but Illinois hadn't won a Big 10 game since 2004. They hadn't beaten Michigan State on the road since the 1980s, nor had they beaten them at all in 10 years. Ron Zook was winless in the Big 10, now he's not.

There was some unpleasantness at the end of the game when Illinois players attempted to plant the flag at midfield. I am of two minds on that subject. It's not cool to do things like that, especially when your team is coming off a year where they hadn't won a single conference game. On the other hand, and I think this applies to the TO situation in Dallas when he disgraced the star, if you want to protect your honor and your field...there is one thing you can do. Win the game. Like Al Davis said: "Just win, baby."

It's pretty late on Saturday night. Most people are in bed right now, which is probably a much better idea than a blog post while slightly intoxicated. Perhaps that might be an optimistic estimation of my condition, but there will be no channeling Kellen Winslow II problem tonight. I still wonder sometimes where that came from. I probably should have simply deleted the post, especially since the Sedition in Red Sox Nation Nation numbers about 3 on a good day. No one would have known how serious my drinking problem can be, but that would have been totally dishonest, and honesty is one of my vices.

I haven't had much to say lately. The Red Sox collapse this season has, in a strange way, taken the jam out of my doughnut. Red Sox fans, at least the ones I know, have started taking my calls again. They don't get mad when I ask them if they find any consolation in the haunting lyrics of the magnum opus of 1980s band Crowded House, Don't Dream It's Over. I did get a rise out of one of the Red Sox fans I know who toes the party line (He told me that he would gladly take a 12-7 split in the season series with the Yankees. I thought at the time, but didn't say, that I'd gladly take the Nobel Prize in Literature for this little blog of mine, the one being as likely as the other) about the US Ryder Cup team wilting the way they did.

I know, because a couple of tools told me that the Red Sox have had somewhere on the order of 17 different deals in place which might have brought Roger Clemens to town this year for minimal cost. Alas, none of them were consummated. And the Red Sox faded, finishing in what looks like third place. It's the first time the Sox haven't come in second to the Yanks since 2001, if memory serves. Of course there was the chance that the Sox could have won the AL East last season, but they finished tied with the Yanks who owned the tiebreaker. At the time, a little bit was made of then fact that there was no playoff. There were 19 games for the Sox to make their mark, as long as both teams mad e the playoffs, there was no point to risk an injury to a key player on either side.

While Red Sox fans are watching the DVD of the 2004 crime against humanity, the Yankees have had a chance to rest some people and set their rotation for the upcoming playoffs. I, for my part, don't think they'll win it all this year. I had a dream a couple of days ago where Roger Clemens was putting a pinstriped jersey with the number 27 into a locker. Since I believe in my dreams, I think he'll pitch for the Yankees next season and they'll win the World Series. Just some food for thought. But if Clemens pitches for the Yanks and they win it all in 2007, both of you who read this blog heard it here first.

After another week of college football, some things became clear to me. First, the CHB and Bob Ryan in their capacity as mouthpiece for Tom O'Brien will eventually out Ohio State as a fraudulent number one, since the Buckeyes continually duck America's team in Chestnut Hill. BC beat Maine today. A win so impressive I feel no need to provide for those who missed the game. It's not every day an ACC team outs a 22-0 beatdown on a 1-AA team, but it sees to happen frequently these days.

According to John Powers in the Globe, these games are mutually beneficial. For the small matter of taking a savage beating at a bigger school's hands, a 1-AA team can receive a bribe of a half million dollars or so. This is an important issue to me, as a committed and admitted Notre Dame fan. There has been a lot of talk about how their schedule is comparatively soft. I, for one, resent that allegation. Yes, Notre Dame plays Navy every year and plays at least one other service academy on an annual basis. But the school owes the US Navy a debt of gratitude because the Navy used Notre Dame as an officer training school in WWII, which kept the school from going broke when most of its students enlisted (ND was a small, all male university at the time).

As the talk about Notre Dame's weak schedule mounts, somebody must comment. As I have a very nearly photographic memory and a serious ND fan complex, it might as well be me. Yes, the schools that will face the Fighting Irish over the remainder of the season might not have the best records. But I have combed my memory of ND games since the Gerry Faust era, and I cannot find a single game in which Notre Dame played a Division 1-AA adversary. And yet Notre Dame's impressive comeback against Michigan State looks a lot less impressive since the Spartans did not hold the pass against a much weaker Fighting Illini team today.

Boston College and Notre Dame are both 4-1. But BC has a much more impressive 4-1 record. After all, Notre Dame has beaten 1 ACC team and 3 Big Ten teams, while BC has beaten a few NFL teams and the core of the 2nd Marine Division (the 1st, 3rd and nominally reserve 4th Marine divisions are all hiding from BC by fighting in the current wars). Oh wait, I made a very inappropriate joke to conceal the fact that BC aspires to be the nation's premier Catholic university in the face of a weak curriculum and a fraudulent athletic program that feeds on the weak and aspires to be Notre Dame's rival/equal.

Earlier this evening, it looked like there wasn't going to be a post tonight. There was a big upset brewing in the top 25. It looked like an unranked Michigan St. team was going to blow out the Fighting Irish. It also looked like the BC Eagles were going to cement their status as best of the rest in the Atlantic Coast Conference. But funny things happen sometimes in football.

Notre Dame scored 19 unanswered points in the fourth quarter on 3 TDs in a 5:25 span. For those who wrote off Charlie Weis after last week's debacle, it might be time to back off a bit. The team looked shaky (to say the least) in the first quarter. Weis looked fairly foolish when his call to go for it on 4th and 8 just past midfield backfired and Michigan State scored a big TD. Of course, there is also John L. Smith, the man, the myth, legend.

How many times in college and professional football do we see a coach take the air out of the ball when they get a big lead in the second half? I can see some of the logic, not wanting to risk the big turnover. And Michigan State was killing Notre Dame on the ground for the first three quarters, especially with Jehuu Caulcrick, the big 260 pound tailback. Thank God John L. Smith went to the power running formation and stopped running out of the spread formation, which has killed Notre Dame since Joe Tiller brought that attack to Purdue in 1997.

And then there was BC. A blocked extra point helped them beat Clemson, now a missed extra point cost them this game against NC State. Once you miss a kick, you chase that point all day. Then you have to go for two when you want to make it a seven point game. If you miss the two, then it goes from a TD to tie, to a loss situation. Damn shame it had to happen like that.

Of course, there is the theory that you have to take care of business when you have the chance. BC had the ball on third down with short yardage to go. They fumble the quarterback-center exchange, but they were lucky. Matt Ryan fell on the ball, and they only wasted one down. It set the stage perfectly for the most overhyped short yardage specialist in recent memory. I imagine that the CHB had an easy story, and angle all set up. Alas, NC State did not get the memo, and they stopped Brian Toal for a loss on fourth down. That set up their winning TD drive. Under a minute to go, and no time outs. But they took care of business. Good times.

One thing that drove me crazy during the Notre Dame game was the constant game breaks from the studio. I can understand when they have news or scores to update. I appreciate finding out what's going on in games I'm not watching, especially when I can't check the score during a commercial because a particular game isn't on in the area. But if they updated me on the Ohio State game one more time 3 hours after it ended, I was going to start hopping up and down and hooting like Woody Woodpecker.

On a totally unrelated note, what is the point of the Nike Gridiron/Briscoe High spots? I can see where it is somewhat cool to envision a high school where Jimmy Johnson teaches history and Brian Urlacher, LaDanian Tomlinson, Michael Vick and Matt Leinart play football under George Seifert. It's also funny to see Urlacher and the other captains tower over their rivals in the big game. I'm guessing that the point is that with Nike equipment anyone can play with the big boys, unless that Ryan kid is somebody I should know but can't place.

I think the real point is one of those beautiful accidental moments that occur in commercials. A classic example is the Michael Strahan Chunky Soup ad from about 6 or 7 years ago, where he's handing out soup to commuters on the New York subway. As the ad ends, there is a shot where his head is framed by one of the windows in the sliding door. Right below his big goofy smile is a sign that says: "Mind the gap." There is no way that was deliberate, but it's still funny.

To make a long story short, the moment like that from the Briscoe High ad is the unintentional referendum on Michael Vick as quarterback. With a fourth down and time for one play, what does George Seifert run? A tailback option pass play, which is almost assured to fail in that situation because it is the run threat that leaves the wide receiver open down field. On fourth and long there is no way you'd ever run with time about to expire. You'd think the quarterback should be dropping back to throw it deep. But when your passing threat is Michael Vick, maybe you do want Tomlinson throwing the do or die pass.

I hate Michael Vick because he tried to kill my fantasy team a couple of years ago. I also hate him because he is a big whiner. Every time the Falcons fall short, it's a coaching failure, never the QB. Then there was his unilateral demand that media stop questioning his pocket passing ability in the wake of the single most impressive passing performance of the modern era when he threw for 250 yards against the Dolphins last season.

Well, Notre Dame took a savage beating at home this Saturday. Inevitably, the national media is now tearing down the monster that they built. Notre Dame was overrated. Who would have thought that, if the ones doing the rating didn't? I don't know whether the Irish are a worse football team than the Wolverines. Obviously on Saturday, an inspired and well prepared Michigan squad entered Notre Dame Stadium and embarrassed a flat, uninspired team.

Whether Notre Dame could have beaten Michigan if they played with the same emotion they showed against Penn St. or not, and whether Notre Dame had a hangover from the home opener or not are questions that might be worth discussing, but I am not in the frame of mind for that speculation tonight. I'm interested to see how Michigan comes out to play this week. If they come out flat and lay an egg, what will their recent victory tell us. Will Notre Dame look worse, or will Michigan be regarded as a good team that caught ND at the right time? Time will tell.

I had intended to write at length about the questions in the paragraph above, but then a friend (a cynical Penn St. fan) emailed me this story. After one season and two games, apparently it's RIP Charlie Weis. His legend has been declared legally dead. Obviously, if you read the piece, you'll get the impression that the author is a Tyrone Willingham fan. I liked Tyrone Willingham. I think he's a good guy with a strong commitment to the high academic standards the University of Notre Dame has for its student athletes. He was not a wartime consigliere, though.

Among some of my personal favorite Ty moments: the green jersey game against mighty Boston College, the hit or miss emphasis on regionalization and the look on his face when the breaks beat the boys and the game slipped away. First and foremost, unless you are a BC fan or a moron (and alas, the two conditions often flow together like the Allegheny and Monongahela to form an Ohio of ignorance with Chestnut Hill as its Steel City), you know that Notre Dame and Boston College are not rivals. Notre Dame's rivals are USC, Michigan, Michigan St and Purdue. BC sold out the Big East to go from Big East 3 to ACC 5. But they maintained the illustrious position in the Come To Boise And See Our Blue Field Bowl. Notre Dame wears green jerseys for USC or Michigan, not middle of the pack ACC teams. Good call on the green jerseys, Ty. Way to make an average game into a huge victory for BC. No wonder the echoes stayed asleep and no thunder shook down.

Then there was his emphasis on regionalization. Ty thought that since ND recruited on a national stage, players from the area in which they played road games would play better closer to their homes. It worked against Tennessee, when he started little used WR and Tennessee native Matt Shelton who caught 2 touchdowns. It blew up on him when he started Mike Richardson, a little used cornerback against USC in LA, his hometown. USC's receivers beat poor Mike like the CHB beat the Curse of the Bambino. In case you care, Mike Richardson has earned his way back into the starting lineup, and was not victimized for any of Mario Manningham's long TD receptions this past week.

Finally, there was the look of utter mystification that would descend on his face when Tyler Palko set a record by throwing 5 TD passes against the Irish. Or the Gator Bowl, when NC State crushed the Irish. Or when Pat Dillingham threw a TD pass to a BC linebacker in the infamous green jersey game I mentioned.

I linked to the article because I found it fascinating and maddening. The tone of the article suggests that Charlie Weis has been overrated and overhyped because he did little more than surprise some overrated teams with Ty Willingham's recruits. Maybe Tyrone Willingham should have been given a 5 years to succeed like his predecessor, Bob Davies. Maybe it was racial, maybe it had to do with the fact that he was never the first choice, but he was stable and his resume was honest (in short, not George O'Leary of the 13 days). I personally think the latter option led to the short window. If he'd won more consistently, he'd still be at Notre Dame. And it's not like Washington is contending in the PAC 10.

As for Charlie Weis winning with a team largely recruited by Tyrone Willingham, consider this. When Tyrone Willingham signed on to coach Notre Dame, he took over a program with no players and built a winner. Or he had the best start since Ara with Bob Davies players, but there is no mention of that in Charlie Weis' requiem. And this was a 26 point loss to Michigan, but that still puts him 4 26 point losses behind Ty for his career. Bob Davies only had one such loss in his career.

Another interesting point raised in the article is that Charlie Weis beat Navy and Washington last season. So he did, but Navy was a bowl team last year. And if we look back at Tyrone Willingham's record, he was undefeated against Navy and Washington, but Pittsburgh and BYU gave him fits. Weis is undefeated against those teams too. And last October, Weis put his team in a position they haven't been in since the Bob Davies era. They fought the number one team to the brink, and USC needed a TD on the game's final play to win. Ty managed to lose to USC all three times in his tenure. And they weren't close losses, either. And he dropped all three games to the not so mighty Eagles of BC.

It might not sound like it from what I've written above, but I liked Ty Willingham. I really did. But I thought he needed to go. He brought class and stability to the program when they needed it after the George O'Leary mess. But he didn't win, and as Herm Edwards says, you play the games to win. Charlie Weis has brought the Irish to more BCS bowls than Ty Willingham. I think he can weather at least one more loss like this before he gets the gate.

I realize I'm somewhat late to the party, talking about the FIBA World Championship basketball tournament two weeks after it ended. Other things have intruded. But I have a few things to say and a few minutes to say them now.

First things first. This edition of Team USA had no business coming in third. This team should have won, plain and simple. Yes, it wasn't perfect. Yes, a pure shooter might have been a nice complement to Wade, James and Anthony. A player like Bruce Bowen might have provided a more dependable perimeter defender than some of the team members. But there is no way that there was another team that was as talented, and as deep as the US.

Our old friend Bob Ryan was determined to let those of us who were not sufficiently initiated into the mysteries of Dr. Naismith's sport and so deemed this third place finish a disaster know that he was right and we were wrong. The phenomenon of basketball globalization is to blame for Team USA's recent lack of success in international competition. In short, players all across the world are better now than they ever were in the past.

Of course, it is widely acknowledged that Pau Gasol is 18 to 20 times better than the best American playing in the NBA, which accounts for the amazing run of success his teams have enjoyed in their postseason forays. To date, they have yet to win a single game. And I was just one of many who pointed out that Dirk Nowitzki came up small in the biggest moments of this season's NBA Finals. Foreign players are better than the teams that the US squashed in 1992 and 1996 and beat in 2000. But are they better than Americans? I don't think so.

We know that there was one key decision that set the US up for failure. They didn't include one pure shooter on the roster. There is a little known fact that only men like Bob Ryan know. A pure shooter can never go cold. A guy like Reggie Miller or Michael Redd would never have had a game where they shot 0-10 or 1-11 when the team needed him. Reggie Miller would have shot 11-10 or 13-8 or some other percentage which is patently impossible for the other 6 billion or so individuals who are bound in space and time by the laws of physics and nature.

Of course there are those who know how to fix things. Mark Cuban revealed his a ten point plan in an interview which he reprinted on blogMaverick. His first point is that one set of rules should prevail in basketball, either play American basketball by international rules or international basketball by NBA rules. That makes some sense, but athletes like the ones who made up this team should be able to adapt in short order. It's not exactly like the officials and the other teams made up the rules as they went along.

Another point is that the US sent its first Dream Team into a vacuum, following the implosion of the Soviet Union. I would be willing to bet that that team would have devastated any team of professionals from any country, even if they were forced to play shorthanded. That team had incredible talent, incredible competitiveness and incredible leadership. They would have found a way to beat anybody.

One guy who has gotten a pass in this disaster is the legendary coach. Where was Coach K when we needed him? This team seemed like they were well prepared for every eventuality but one. They weren't ready for some team to weather their run, and they come back swinging like the Greeks did, hitting their first 10 shots of the third quarter. And here's an idea...if your team isn't shooting well from three point land, maybe you could tell them not to take so many three point shots. Believe it or not, there are other ways to score in basketball.

I thought Elton Brand did a nice job summing up what the US team needs going forward. Particularly because he discounts the value of the designated savior (take your pick from Kobe, KG, Ray Allen, Gilbert Arenas or Player X). If there is one guy who needs to go, it's Battier. Without Duke getting calls by reputation, he (and Coach K) aren't the dominant forces that some believed they might be. Bruce Bowen is a better defender. Not much of an offensive player, but he might know a bit about the pick and roll.

More zone is a good idea. More size to counter the pick and roll is also a good plan. But it doesn't necessarily mean bringing in new people. Maybe Elton Brand could have played more minutes, and less center. Of course, one can easily forgive Coach K for not utilizing Brand as effectively as he could have. After all, with the healthy culture that pervades youth basketball and college recruiting, it's not like Coach K saw the balance of Brand's high school games. Oh wait, he did. Instead of adding more weapons, it might be a good idea to use the ones you have. And a halftime adjustment or timely timeout might not hurt.

It's been a long time, again, since my last post. But as I said earlier, it's hard to maintain the motivation to attack the Red Sox when they seem so snake bitten this season. I mentioned in one of the first few posts that I do hate the Patriots, but it's not a very strong emotion. They weren't very good when I was a kid, and I had the good manners not to join the press to jump on the bandwagon in the Parcells era. Yes, a lot of people have been going to games for years, but I still remember a lot of weeks where the Patriots were blacked out in the local TV market when I was a kid.

Patriots' fans can't be too thrilled about today's news. For those few who haven't heard 100 times, Deion Branch will not be joining us for the rest of his career. With the loss of David Givens to free agency, that means bad news for Tom Brady. Unless rookie Chad Jackson plays lights out, Troy Brown and Reche Caldwell will be the main outside receiving options. Of course, this might have been the scenario envisioned by the Pats personnel wizards when they drafted tight end after tight end in the last few years.

But what are we missing after all? Obviously, as a Pats hater, I'm not missing anything. But leaving that sentiment aside for a moment, what did the team lose? In four seasons, Deion Branch managed to score 14 TDs and caught 213 passes. Since practical skills like basic arithmetic seem to elude New England residents where their teams are concerned, let me put that in perspective. 50 catches and almost 4 TDs a season.

Think about that for a second, those of you who play fantasy football. Do those numbers scream "Draft Me!" to you. They don't to me. Deion Branch had one "big" game in the Super Bowl against Philly. Yes, he tied the Super Bowl record for receptions in a game, which he shares with Jerry Rice. However, Super Bowl records and career success sometimes run north and south. Just ask Timmy Smith, who set the single game rushing record in Super Bowl XXI. By 1990, he was out of football.

I realize, to paraphrase Douglas Adams, that fantasy is an illusion and fantasy football doubly so. It places so much emphasis on stats, at the expense of little things that receivers have to do to help a team win, like block downfield. But does Deion Branch have the reputation for doing the little things that don't show up in the stat sheets that Hines Ward and Keyshawn Johnson have earned? I would say no.

If your anticipated number one receiver put up half the numbers of Larry Fitzgerald, then you don't have a number one receiver. One can say that the Arizona receiver is not an apt comparison because of the respective offensive systems and the level of competitiveness of each team. Also, at 6'3" and 230 pounds, he's considerably bigger than Branch. However, Fitzgerald plays opposite Anquan Boldin, who would be the number one receiver on half the teams in the NFL.

So will Deion Branch be missed? Probably, but not as much as you might think. Don't dwell too much on that Super Bowl MVP award he won. Think back on the game. If you can tell me that Branch was the best WR on the field that day, then you're either a shameless homer or a moron. TO had a better game. Not as many catches to be sure, but pretty good for a guy on a broken leg with no running game to speak of and a quarterback with the walking pneumonia or whatever was wrong with him.

Of course, I like TO. Even with all of the foolishness from last season, I haven't given up on him yet. But more will be written about TO in the coming weeks. I still have to throw in my two cents on the disaster that was the US team's bronze medal "performance." Plus, I have a lot of things to say about college football. Since I grew up in a the only region without a major college football powerhouse, I am a Notre Dame fan. I suffered through the bad years, so I intend to enjoy the Charlie Weis era. And you're going to hear about it.

To leave on what I hope will be a more positive note, there may be a silver lining in the Branch trade. It's not the first round pick from next year's draft. It is that with the Branch situation resolved, the CHB will (knock on wood) stop referring to him as the "Receiver Who Must Not Be Named." There was a time when a sportswriter would think twice before making a hacky, hokey allusion to Harry Potter.

Yes. I know a bit about Harry Potter. What separates me from the CHB is that my references to pop culture are funnier and show more thought on the part of the writer. Plus I don't look like Harpo Marx with the wit and humor of Dr. Who (who wasn't funny). I don't want to keep criticizing him, but when he gives his "effort" on the Patriots this title: "Quarterback was receiver -- of hits" what can I do? He brings it on himself.

As a bonus, the Douglas Adams quote I paraphrased reads: "Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so." If I'm not mistaken it comes from The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, but I'm too lazy to track down my copy of The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy series.

Ladies and Gentlemen, times have been tough for me, which is weird when the Red Sox are collapsing in front of our eyes. All of the optimism born from the improbable comeback in 2004 seems dead. The Red Sox gave up on the season, according to the anchor fraud in the Globe Sports section, when they traded David Wells. There were those who expected very little from Wells this season, which makes it very funny that his departure marks the moment where some in the media queue up the Crowded House (they sang the song Don't Dream It's Over in the 1980s).

And will next year be any better? Curt Schilling will be a year older. Josh Beckett might get it together, then again he might not. And after that, there is no one left in the rotation. Tim Wakefield should be coming back from injury, but if you think that will be enough to fix their current woes, I have some real estate I'd like to sell you. And then there's Matt Clement. Some day people will look back on the 1st half of last season as an aberration on par with season one of the Chapelle Show. There is no next year for which to wait.

I have been somewhat quiet for the last week, even though I wanted to gloat because I felt bad. As much as I wanted to do a victory lap, only a total tool would do that with the health problems faced by David Ortiz and Jon Lester. Especially now that Lester has lymphoma. It makes me feel like a jackass even typing what I've typed to this point.

But I can't keep silent about something. Poor Carl Yaztremski. Baseball Hall of Famer, Triple Crown Winner and a guy who shares a name with a new birth control medication. Not that I have a particular problem with contraception. That's just one of many subjects where we'd all be better off if we kept silent.

As if Carl doesn't have enough problems. Dan Shaughnessy has to be circling around him, as the oldest really recognizable Red Sox alumnus (Johnny Pesky lacks the eminence, nice guy, nice player but not a star), the CHB has to be hovering over him, just like the CHB hovered over Ted Williams in his declining years. That is another angle to generate columns with a minimum of effort that the CHB has perfected.

In case those of you who read this were wondering, I have some things to rail against in the coming fall. I hadn't prepared any formal lines of attack, which explains this "post," but there will be pieces coming in the next few days. I cannot let the Danny Ainge impression conducted by Coach K and Jerry Collangelo pulled in this year's world championship pass without comment. And I'm sure this season's edition of the Celtics will find new ways to disappoint. And the rest of my plans for this fall's Festivus can wait for another day.

Good evening sports fans. Things have been a bit hectic here as I juggled a side project or two, a possibly broken TV and my preparations for the upcoming season of fantasy football. If only I had the desire to apply the time and energy I currently devote to foolishness to a positive, career building strategy.

The West Coast has not been kind to our friends in the AL East. Yes, the Red Sox are coming off of a sweep at the hands of the Mariners. Yes, they are 6 and 1/2 games out of first. Yes, the CHB has dusted off the wait till next year bit in his own inimitable fashion, and utterly butchered it. Yes, it looks bleak for the Old Towne Team, but I am not convinced. The lone voice of optimism for the 2006 edition of the Red Sox is the author of Sedition in Red Sox Nation.

It scares me. But I remember doing a victory lap on my friends and family after the Yankees beat the Sox like they stole something in Game 3 of the ALCS in 2004. I even got an "eff you" out of my brother as soon as he picked up the phone after a big home run by the Bronx Bombers. And then there was the comeback. And I had to listen to every person I taunted taunt me. In case you wonder, ladies and gentlemen, crow is singularly unappetizing. But I answered the calls, because only a tool taunts when things are good and then hides when they aren't. So I am waiting until the Sox are mathematically eliminated this year before I celebrate.

For as poorly as the Red Sox performed against the Mariners (who are themselves, an unfortunate 13 games behind Oakland), there is still the fact that they lost no ground to the Yankees on this trip. It doesn't matter in the end that the Red Sox can't beat Tampa Bay. Nor does it matter that the As savaged the Red Sox not long before my long silence. It doesn't even matter that the Yankees trounced the Tigers when they met earlier this season. There are too many games left to be played for me to rest comfortably. But that isn't the theme of tonight's post.

Nor is the theme the bizarre recusatio (Latin for a rhetorical device where a speaker claims he will not talk about something in the act of talking about it. I try to avoid being a nerd whenever possible, but you can see how many words it took me to explain one Latin term, had to do it) Shaughnessy published in the Sunday Globe. Read it, and tell me that it's not a rip job on Manny. I'll warn you ahead of time that if I'm not buying it from the CHB, I probably won't buy it from you. But if those few who read this and know me can convince me, I will apologize.

Tonight's theme has been on my mind for a long time now. Every year, people in Red Sox Nation think Jim Rice should be in the Hall of Fame but he doesn't make the cut. Every year, I don't think he should get in and they tell me he was the best power hitter in baseball in his era. To borrow a quote from a Roy Orbison song (and I don't feel guilty, since Gram Parsons covered it and Nazareth mauled it): "I'm young, I know, but even so...I know a thing or two." And to borrow a quote from Skip Bayless, "It's the Hall of Fame, not the Hall of Very Good."

Jim Rice was a good player. He was not however, the best power hitter in baseball in his era, unless you restrict his era to 1077-1978, or you discount the great fighting city of Philadelphia. In 16 seasons, Jim Rice hit 382 home runs. Mike Schmidt hit 548 home runs in 18 seasons. Rice drove in 1451 runs, Schmidt drove in 1595. Both retired in 1989, and only one is in the Hall of Fame.

1978 was a magical season for Jim Rice. He hit 46 homers and drove in 139. He had 15 triples, 406 total bases and won the MVP. He also batted .315. Mike Schmidt only hit for an average over .300 once, the strike shortened 1981 season. In his best statistical season, Schmidt hit 48 home runs, but drove in 121 runs and had just 342 total bases.

He hit .298 for his career, which is higher than Schmidt's .267 average. Rice also hit 20 more triples in 2 fewer season. But then he played in Fenway Park, not Veterans Stadium. And Jim Rice played in a lineup that featured a pitcher hitting in only World Series games in 1975 and 1986. Conversely, Schmidt only played in games with a DH following the 1980 and 1983 seasons.
When one looks at the career number, it is then that the advantage is much more clearly in Schmidt's favor. Jim Rice hit 30 or more home runs four times in his career. Mike Schmidt hit 30 or more home runs every year from 1974 to 1987, with the exception of 1978. Jim Rice out homered Mike Schmidt in 1977, 1978 and 1988 in the years their careers overlapped. Mike Schmidt 40 or more home runs 3 times, compared to just once fore Rice. The Phillies third baseman led the league in homers a mere 8 times, whereas Rice managed the feat a robust 3 times (77,78 and 83). Schmidt was MVP 3 times, to Rice's 1. Rice won two Silver Slugger awards, Mike Schmidt won 6. Schmidt won the World Series in 1980, and won the World Series MVP. Rice, as we all know, won 0 titles.

Rice batted .333 in his lone World Series (1986). Schmidt hit .220 in his two World Series, but there was his disastrous showing in 1983 where he hit .050. In 1980, he hit .381 with 2 HR and 7 RBI (for those of you keeping score at home that matches the totals for Rice's 18 playoff games, none of which came in World Series play). In 2 more seasons, Schmidt drew 201 intentional walks to Rice's 77. He was also hit by 79 pitches while Rice was hit a mere 64 times, for someone who was allegedly unpopular with his rivals on a colossal scale.

It is somewhat unfair to compare the two, as Schmidt was the greatest third baseman (just think of the 10 Gold Gloves he won from 1976-1984 and 1986) of all time, and Rice was Jim Rice. For someone like ARod to rival Schmidt he'd have to hit 800 HR and tap dance across the confluence of the Hudson and East Rivers. Jim Rice was a very good player and a good hitter, but he didn't earn a place in a league with Mike Schmidt.

As much as people say Fenway isn't the hitter's park we all think it is, there is no way you can convince me that a hitter like Mike Schmidt wouldn't have out up more home runs here than in the Vet. Nor can you convince me that Jim Rice didn't have an artificially high triples stat because of the stadium, not to mention RBI that might have been outs if he didn't play in what John Updike called the lyrical bandbox of Fenway Park. And if you don't believe me, go to this site and compare for yourself.

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.

There is an underappreciated old movie I enjoy quite a bit. Actually there are quite a few, but this one particular film has been on my mind since last night's game with the Mariners ended the way it did. It's called Khartoum, and it's about an uprising in the Sudan in 1884. Charlton Heston stars as "Chinese" Gordon, a British general leading the defense of Khartoum. The Mahdi, the leader of the Sudanese attacking the city, is played by Laurence Olivier. It's quite good, I highly recommend it.

It is of particular significance to this evening's post because there is a particular scene where the two rivals meet in the Mahdi's tent. The backstory, as simply put as possible, is that a British relief force is slowly marching down the Nile, ostensibly to rescue Gordon. In reality, Prime Minister Gladstone ordered the commander to move slowly, so that Gordon would be forced to flee the city and that British troops would not have to fight in the Sudan. Gordon refused to leave, and sent his deputy to force the advancing force to come more quickly. The Mahdi's forces intercepted and killed the deputy, but the Mahdi sent a fake message to Gordon saying the British army was picking up the pace. Not long after, the Mahdi summoned Gordon to his tent for a conference, where he revealed the ruse.

Believe it or not, this does actually relate to the defeat in Seattle. The Mahdi tells Gordon that the message was fake, and explains why he did it. By the Mahdi's rationale is that if you allow your adversary a few sunny moments of false hope, then he will be utterly devastated when he sees the totality of his defeat looming before him. To make a long story short, that's a bit like what befell the Red Sox yesterday.

Every time Seattle took the lead, the Red Sox tantalized their fans with comeback. Then the Sox would do something dumb. Alex Gonzales managed to flip the ball in Mike Lowell's general direction, which may have been a nice play, provided, of course, that a Seattle baserunner weren't running between them. The throw hit the runner in the back, and turned a potential force play at third base into a run.

Then there was Manny being Manny, sliding every which way but where the ball was. Actually, that's a bit unfair, he did manage to slide into the ball in the seventh. Might have been a nice play, if they went to Seattle to play soccer. Alas, that it had to be baseball.

But the play of the game had to be Coco Crisp's over the top effort to make a circus catch on Beltre's potential home run. Unfortunately, Coco was coco-nuts on the play and the ball bounced off the wall 10 feet behind him. After that came a series of mishaps that would have horrified the Three Stooges. By the way, I feel redeemed from that awful pun, as the Red Sox currently sell t shirts with that dreadful play on words on the front and Crisp #10 on the back. I know. I've seen them. And I am aware that one really ought not write a parenthetical paragraph, but I'm only human. In case you were wondering, Reason # 77 that you ought to know you're a tool but obviously don't realize it, is you are wearing an "I'm Coco Nuts" shirt (apologies to my good friend who was wearing one when I was hanging out with him over the 4th of July, reason # 13 that you are given immunity from tool status is that you hooked the Cincinnati Kid up with a quality cigar).

Manny couldn't/wouldn't/didn't do more to back up his center fielder than point to the ball. Then there was the wild throw that wasn't cut off by Alex Gonzales. By the time Lowell came up with the ball and threw home, it was too late. What should have been a loud out, or maybe a double because it was a reasonably well hit ball, and a lot of things can happen became an inside the park home run because the Red Sox vaunted defense fell asleep at the switch.

And then Jason Varitek stepped to the plate, the captain had the last shot to tie the game. And he took a two out, two strike pitch deep into the right field seats. The Red Sox had their few sunny moments of hope. They had a bit of life. As Tito said, Varitek had a "beautiful swing" at it. And then Richie Sexson reached out and snatched it from their grasp. He hit a walk off homer off of Mike Timlin. I wonder whether that took the jam out of Timlin's doughnut.

It was so stunning in its perfection and timing that it left only me to question why Francona left Timlin in for the ninth inning. Surely after something like the Keystone Kops turn a long fly ball into an inside the park home run a man of even moderate intelligence might have thought that it wasn't Timlin's day. That the stars were aligned against him. That maybe karma was coming for him like that old bat in the car came for Earl Hickey. Not Francona. Not yesterday. Mariners win.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry it's been a while since I last tormented my public. A variety of things have happened which have contributed to my intoxication. For the first time in the history of this blog I am attempting to post a serious entry after a night of drinking beer.
There was not a whole lot to say about the series w/ the Royals. Yes, the Sox swept them, but then again, it was the Royals. I'm sorry too, about the lack of links, but I'm drunk, and too tired for due diligence. Then there was the makeup game against the Rangers. But that is neither here nor there as far as the blog is concerned.

The Sox did manage to lose today, which is nice. It might touch the cockels of my heart, but I realize that I exist in a minority of one in this instance. If I had the time abd the desire, there would be a post or two up that I've been holding back. In the next 2 nights, I will return to eairing my grievances in blog form. Soon enough, I will be back to writing the way I want, so take comfort or gather your patience, and this blog shall be back.

Would that I had more to say on the A's punking the Red Sox this evening, but who can do a beating like that justice? Plus it was my misfortune to run into a cat with a 2004 World Series ring this evening. That coupled with an old friend who told him that I stopped drinking St. Louis beer (Bud/Bud Light) in the wake of the Cardinals collapse in that unfortunate series is enough to put a damper on my enthusiasm. In my defense, I am (and have been since those who know the Cincinnati Kid can remember) a Miller High Life drinker.

The Cardinals awful play is merely one excuse for not drinking St. Louis beer. I have some others, but I will not expend both barrels on Anheiser Busch until I get paid for it. The only reason I'm posting tonight is that I have been alerted to the existence of this site recently. It can take you to this site, which was surprising and disappointing for a brief moment, until one realized that the English and their govt were left behind in the New World.

Go here, and see how short and expensive life can be. I must say I wish I had more to add, but I must disappoint my loyal readers. All I can say is got to the site above, or click on this particular link. Even if it won't find you treasure, it might help you find the missing piece which can make us all soldiers.

It is now about 36 hours after the main portion of this post was composed. I have no idea what the hell I was thinking when I wrote it. I don't know why I made the English government reference. I have no idea what it meant. Nor do I understand where the make us all soldiers bit came from. The original intention with the last link above (which sends you to a site entitled "When Tools Attack") was to make some bad joke about tools attacking failing to include the Red Sox who are, as we all know, giant tools.

It wouldn't have been very funny, so I guess it's just as well that I went the Kellen Winslow II route. It was certainly in poor taste with the unpleasantness overseas, so I apologize. Part of me wanted to delete this post altogether, but in the spirit of honesty and cynicism that are the hallmarks of this blog, I had to leave it up with my apology. This is yet one more from the long list of reasons why one shouldn't drink and blog.

From beer with dinner to White Russians at the bar to more beer on my return, I should never have posted. But I did, and I won't try to save myself the embarassment. I only wish I had the flight data recorder going to help me understand the English in the New World referrence. All I can say in my defense is that at least I wasn't dumb enough to drive that night.

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Believe it or not, I'm not going to dwell too much on the 2nd consecutive game the Red Sox dropped in extra innings. It was a master stroke of strategy for Francona to pinch run Willie Harris in the 9th. While he did manage to get picked off in a botched hit and run (of course we have to blame Francona for that, since it's his call), surely he did it with style and flair that Trot Nixon could not have summoned in that situation. As for Loretta's error, these things happen. Alas, they do not happen enough.

Nor do I have much to say about the All Star game. I watched some of it over at a friend's place. I left early, though. I am one of the many, many people who haven't bought the "This time it counts" line. If it truly counts, then Eric Gagne's consecutive save streak should have stopped after he let up the home run that clinched home field for the AL the first time they tried this foolish experiment.

The MLB All Star game is a giant sham. If you've read even one of my previous entries, you can tell that I like sports (baseball, basketball and football anyway). I watch at least an hour of sports a day. In the fall, I watch maybe 36 hours of football, between college and the pros. And yet Tuesday night, I left my friend's place at 10:30 to hustle home because Things to do in Denver When You're Dead was coming on IFC at 10:45.

For those of you who haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. It's a very underrated movie. And more importantly, it inspires the question: "What happened to Gabrielle Anwar?" She did some excellent work in this film, she was good in the tango scene from Scent of A Woman and she wasn't bad in the Three Musketeers, which wasn't horrible (given the rest of the cast and the Disney production, that's high praise).

But that's another story for another day. What concerns me today is something that might bear looking at. The All Star break is over, the second half of the season begins in earnest today (since some teams had yesterday off). As I look at the MLB landscape, it is the best of times and it is the worst of times. Two careers have experienced a resurgence in the American League's Eastern Division over the last season and the first half of the current campaign. The question before us, as sports fans (and lovers of truth?) is how have these careers emerged from the ashes?

Last season, Jason Giambi won the Viagra MLB Comeback Player of the Year Award. Leaving aside the irony of said award being sponsored by an ED drug, we must look at the issue objectively. Giambi admitted to using illicit performance enhancing drugs. He apologized to the fans, for what he didn't specify at the time but it seemed clear that it was for the steroid use. But he is back now, hitting homers like he used to (although his average isn't that great).

Some people choose to believe that he's clean. Red Sox fans know better. I have been assured by some of the Red Sox fans whom I encounter from time to time (and who know my opinion on their favorite team, but not necessarily that I am the author of this blog) that Giambi is getting around on pitches that he couldn't get to in '04, or even last season. That he's as big as he ever was (whether or not he's as strong is another story). And there can only be one reason. He's on something, steroids, growth hormone, something.

For my part, admitted cynic though I am, I think he's clean. Or more precisely, I hope he's clean. Not because he hurts the Red Sox, and has a very nice habit of hitting big home runs off of Big Schill, but because after his horrific health scare, he'd have to be the dumbest man alive to be back on the juice. And we know he's not the dumbest man alive, because he's not this guy.

Then there's Mike Lowell. If he continues to put up numbers the way he has to this point in the season, he may well win the Comeback Player of the Year for 2006. After all, he has 12 home runs in 84 games for the Sox this season, compared to 8 for the Marlins in 150 games. Does that strike any one as suspicious timing? 2005 was a bad season to have a surprising drop in productivity (Lowell's HR total dropped from 27 in 2004 to 8, that's a big drop). To put this in perspective, I refer you to Tom Verducci's SI piece, in which he mentions that Neifi Perez hit more HRs and out-slugged Lowell last season.

But he's back now, and playing well for the Sox, so he must be fine. Giambi hitting home runs off Schilling can only be steroids, but the change in scenery, and a smaller park can work wonders for a guy's image. After all, it was the big park and a slow start that led Lowell to press last season, but in a better lineup with less pressure, it all came back together. If I didn't do it last week, there'd be a George Strait quote here.

P.S. On another note, Gene Wojciechowski must be stopped. As a Notre Dame fan, and not just because I'm Irish American, or because I jumped the bandwagon, but because I admire legitimate traditions, there must be no talk of national championships in July. And I don't want to hear how awesome Clausen is. Until he proves that he can play at that level and produce consistently, he's not the second coming of Joe Montana. Being a cynic, I have to say that if the bloodline were really that impressive, why isn't a Clausen penciled into the opening day lineup in the NFL? There are 32 teams, and some dreadful quarterbacks (just think Da Bears on this one), but no Clausens. Like Thomas in the Gospel, I'll believe it when I see it.

P.P.S While I was watching the All Star game, my friend and I talked about movies. He has Shawshank in his top five. I refuse to see it. I didn't much enjoy the story when it was called Falconer, and John Cheever wrote it (I am aware of the differences, but the story of the soul of an unjustly imprisoned man is close enough) and it was called Falconer. I won't see Shawshank because too many people have told me it's in their top 5. I don't want to pick on my friend here (I prefer to do it to his face), but I have to question the rationale behind someone (and he's not the only one I've noticed doing this) making a top 5 films list when they have yet to see (among others) The Magnificent Seven, The Great Escape, The Maltese Falcon, It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (which was so funny that it was even kind of funny when they remade it as Rat Race), Citizen Kane and a whole host of other movies that should be considered among the all time greats.

P.P.P.S I hate postscripts, and yet I write them. I had these three things to post, and this was the best way I thought of to do it. This is the last. I hope you enjoyed this post and this blog as much as I enjoyed writing it. This could very well be my last entry. I don't know how long it might take, but I fully expect zombie Charles Dickens to rise from Westminster Abbey and come looking for me after the Tale of Two Cities allusion above. I had a pretty good run, all things considered.

So the All Star Break is upon us now. The Red Sox are riding in with some momentum, having won 2 of 3 from the Real Sox in Chicago. Yesterday's never ending game could be one a momentum crusher though. It's not every day that I get to see the Red Sox surrender the lead 3 times in one game. Of course 19 inning games aren't exactly a common occurrence for that matter.

Things were looking bleak for me, a couple of days after I started referring to the White Sox as the "Real Sox" they have to go and lose the first two games of the series to my mortal enemies in their own park. I just have that kind of timing. But one doesn't watch the team he hates above all others win the championship in 2004 without developing coping skills, like the ability to find the negative in everybody else's good time.

So I was ready for this post, even if Papelbon didn't come up big with a split that didn't split with 2 outs and a 1 run lead. It was his 3rd blown save of the year, and the first time he'd allowed a run on the road. The good thing about that is from here on the games get bigger as the playoffs approach. Papelbon was up for the stretch run last season, and he did appear in two playoff games, so he has some experience. The question is: "Will he be able to bear up under the strain of closing big games in a pennant race?"

As you might expect, I'm hoping that he won't hold up under the strain. I wonder too, what might happen to his psyche if he blows a few big games and finds out for himself exactly how fickle Red Sox Nation can be. I wasn't very impressed with this analysis of the home run Jermaine Dye hit off him last night:

``I threw it really lackadaisical," Papelbon said. ``He hadn't seen my split the day before. I wanted to throw him something to where he would look at and not swing at, but it caught the middle of the plate.

``At the same time, he hasn't seen my split, and even though it wasn't a good one, you've got to give him credit for keeping that ball fair, one, and taking it out of the park. He was smokin' hot, on fire, between last night and today."

Never having faced the media after blowing a save, I can't really say that I'd carry myself better than Papelbon did. That said, I think he could probably have come up with something that didn't come off as petulant as that excerpt from the Globe story on the game.

He is a bit young. For his sake, I hope he learns that he shouldn't throw lackadaisical pitches with two outs in the bottom of the ninth when trying to protect a one run lead. For my sake, I hope he keeps throwing pitches like that. There is also the chance that his honeymoon with Red Sox Nation might come to a bitter end if he keeps throwing lackadaisical pitches in big situations.
Over the weekend, I watched Gladiator again. Aside from the fact that it might be the best movie of the last ten years, it's also full of amazing scenes, from the battles to the scene where Proximo grabs the slave trader by the junk and yells at him for selling queer giraffes. As I watched the Battle of Carthage reenactment, I realized that Joaquin Phoenix playing Commodus is Mark Cuban. Watch it again, look at the way Commodus reacts to the sword thrusts, it's just like Cuban reeling and flailing when Dirk Nowitzki fails to kick 4th quarter ass (to quote Jason Whitlock).

I wonder now, whether the Benefactor sits in his office reviewing game tapes before sending them off to the league office watching Dwyane Wade driving through the defense and looks at Avery Johnson saying something like: "Why wasn't this called a charge. It vexes me that this wasn't an offensive foul. I'm terribly vexed." Does he sit in his chair at league meetings twirling a sword on the floor like Commodus did in his first meeting with the Senate? Would Mark Cuban make Stu Jackson embrace someone dying of plague?

If Mark Cuban is Commodus, and Bill Simmons is his new hero, does that make the Sports Guy Cuban's version of the loyal senator who tells the story about the sea snake that lets its enemies take bites out of it?

I feel that it is my duty to point out that I am not the first person to make this comparison. Here's what I assume is a representative sample of the people who've thought of this before I did. I thought I had something original here, but it was funny enough to roll out anyway. Or so I thought.

After tonight's unfortunate 9th inning, I find myself with very little to say on the finale of the series with the Red Sox. I do not find myself feeling humbled after my earlier statements, what with the fact that the lowly D-Rays did manage to take 3 of 4 from the mighty Red Sox. Perhaps the Red Sox might have a bit more difficulty with the teams they face from here on out than they did with the NL East.

Two things caught my eye in my reading before bed, which is what prompted this unprecedented third post in one day.

First, was this gem from the NY Times. It has absolutely nothing to do with the Red Sox, baseball or sports in general. But I thought it was worth reading. If I were the husband described in this piece, I would be more than a little upset that this made it into the "paper of record," but that's just me. As a disclaimer, I should note that I am single, so I have no idea what it takes to make a marriage work. I do know from a series of failed interpersonal relationships what makes one go tragically wrong, and sometimes spectacularly wrong. I just think this guy is a loser. Also I wonder how this particular piece fits into the "all the news that's fit to print" mentality of the Grey Lady.

Then there's the Letters to the Editor page of today's Globe. I really don't know how this particular letter, from some tool in Wellesley made the cut to be published by a major metropolitan newspaper. So the guy saw a monarch butterfly on a growth of milkweed in Yawkey Station. And his communion with the natural world set a nice counterpoint to the harsh, apathetic crowd of Red Sox fans who were ignorant of a mystery of life unfolding in their midst. Ordinarily, I am in favor of any avenue to criticize Red Sox Nation, but the world is a big a complex place, not every one has the time to look at butterflies. Nor is it some red badge of courage to point out that you have the sensibilities to appreciate both baseball and a butterfly.

I really don't like posting twice on the same day. It provides yet one more conformation that I have no life. When I saw that LeBron had yet to agree on the extension with Cleveland I just had to get something up on that topic. I'm also sorry that I didn't provide many links for my wild speculations. It was just something that occurred to me, and I thought I should run with it. I think I might just be the first guy to get anything on the possibility (albeit a very slim one at best) that LeBron could one day wear a Celtics uniform.

This post has been in the works since last night, and now that we've put basketball aside for the moment, I can return to attacking the Red Sox for an evening (which is, after all, the stated purpose of this site). This has been quite a series down in Tampa. The local nine have dropped three straight to the lowly Devil Rays. Bob Ryan says it's too early to panic, and he's right. But it still has to hurt a bit, especially when someone like me throws a little salt in the wound.

The Devil Rays may be better than you think. Weird things can happen in the course of a long season like the catch Crawford made against Youkilis last night. But the Red Sox were red hot, winning 15 of 16 before they came to Tampa. They had, prior to this series, lost 4 of their last 6 in Tampa. But the Devil Rays are a last place team. Unless of course they win tonight and the Orioles lose to the White Sox (or as they'll be called on this site henceforth, the Real Sox).

The Sox seemed like they had good reason to feel optimistic entering this series, with Josh Beckett starting the first game and Schilling starting game 2. I bet no one would have thought that the last line of defense against a Tampa Bay sweep would be Tim Wakefield. Of course, no one expected that the mighty Red Sox lineup would be 2 hit by Scott Kazmir. Or that Big Schill would allow 3 home runs. But these things happen.

As for Big Schill himself, I'm still waiting for his response to Mitch Williams. I hate to link to the androidsdungeon so soon after the whole Dr. Who episode, but it was the first place where I found the reference to Mitch Williams calling Schilling out. Quite literally. After the blown save that blew the 1993 World Series, Wild Thing took issue with comments Big Schill made. According to him, Big Schill had best borrow some guts and meet the Wild Thing outside. I am not commenting on the truth of this story, necessarily. I like to take things like this with a grain of salt. I just bring it up to be a thorn in the side of Red Sox fans. And, lest we forget, they say a charge not answered is a charge believed. For what that's worth...

Carl Crawford quite literally stole the show last night. It's not every day that you see a guy steal home. In fact, it hasn't happened to the Sox since 2000. It was such big news, it even made it into a nice little featurette in the KC Star, where Crawford revealed that no one had pitched from the windup with him on 3rd base until Schilling did it 2 nights ago. Then Jason Johnson, he of the notorious ability to lose games, did it. The rest, as they say, is history.

Then there was the wacky play where Crawford caught a ball that Kevin Youkilis hit off a catwalk in the outfield (see the bottom of this piece for "keen" analysis). The Greek God of Walks screamed bloody murder that he should not have been called out. Unfortunately, according to the ground rules, he was out. Francona called it "putt-putt golf stuff" and said it had no place in baseball. I disagree. Crawford made one hell of a play on that ball. To break back and catch a ball fading away from you after it hit a catwalk is worthy of an out.

And for all you Red Sox fans, before you agree with Francona and lobby for rules changes in Tampa, ask yourself whether or not you'd agree with Carl Crawford being called out had it been him at the plate and Manny Ramirez made a catch like that in left field. From time to time, a little intellectual honesty is good for the soul (for those few Red Sox fans that have one). I doubt you'd rally for justice had the shoe been on the other foot.

Meanwhile, I address my parting shot at Kevin Youkilis. In a somewhat ironic gesture, he threw a tantrum at the call. Without the field being miked, it seems that he may have done a bit more to get himself ejected than Jorge Cantu did, but that's neither here nor there. Of late at Fenway, Youke has been coming to bat to the dulcet and underplayed tones of "Jump Around" by House of Pain. And, work with me here Red Sox fans (I'll try to use simple words and write slowly, lest you think too hard and sprain something), here's where we reach the ironic part.

In the intricately composed opus with which Youkilis gets himself in the hitting zone, there is this line: "I ain't goin' out like no punk b----." In my way of thinking that is ironic, since that is exactly how he went out after that call.

This is just a quick postscript to last night's effort. A longer post on the Devil Rays recent rejuvenation will be forthcoming tonight, maybe tomorrow.

There is a big question looming in the minds of Cleveland fans. And it's not "Theo Epstein gave up cash or a player to be named later for Jason Johnson????" Aside from the fact that America's Prom Date is slipping, the real question is: "What is LeBron's future in Cleveland?"

The other big stars who came out of the 2003 draft like Dwyane Wade, Carmelo Anthony and Chris Bosch have all indicated that they would extend their contracts 5 years for the maximum salary allowed by the bargaining agreement ($80 million dollars). None of them have signed yet because the NBA rules prohibit them from signing until July 12. But LeBron hasn't said a word yet. He does have a pretty large window of opportunity (July 12-October 1) in which to make his decision.

But it still begs the question, what will happen if LeBron didn't sign? King James isn't eligible for free agency until after the upcoming season, but can the Cavs afford to keep him for a year and have him walk away after the season. I don't see how you can trade LeBron and get even 75 cents on the dollar in return, but you can't let a guy like that walk and get nothing for him.

This question is of interest for two reasons. Number one, is there a possibility that the Celtics could acquire him? And number two, if LeBron is dealt from the Cavs this offseason, where does that leave that team. The first question is the most intriguing, but the second is the most important as it is, at post time the more realistic of the possibilities.

But first things first. I don't see the Celtics being able to acquire LeBron James. To do so, they would almost certainly have to give up Pierce and one, maybe two of their promising young players. Plus the amount of money under the salary cap and the insanely complex economics of the NBA would make a two team deal nearly impossible. If you click on Pierce's name up above, you'll go to his player page on realGM.com, and you'll find that he's the 16th highest paid player in the NBA. Good luck dealing him, or acquiring a legit 2nd option (I think that Wally is at best a 3rd option, unless, as is the case for Cs, there is no one better).

Any trade for LeBron would have to be a multi-team, multi-player nightmare of a deal with spare parts flying every which way. And we've all seen, by now, that Danny Ainge can't be in a multi-team trade without finding the way to minimize the value the Celtics receive in return to an insane degree. There's no way that could happen and leave LeBron in a Boston uniform.

As for LeBron ending up in LA or NY, which seems to be the object of the exercise for the overall NBA marketing plan...the Knicks are too screwed up right now. He can't play with Kobe. And who knows if the Clippers could sustain the type of spending they did to make a playoff run into another season. He certainly can't play with Paul Pierce. Their particular style of play would be too similar, or would be if LeBron were less talented than he is. Paul Pierce for his part has shown reluctance to share the spotlight. So that can't happen.

As for him coming here in trade for Pierce (presuming Danny Ferry subscribed to the Danny Ainge How To Paralyze a Franchise Correspondence Course at the Isaiah Thomas Institute for Killing a Basketball Team), that seems ridiculous to me. The thing that holds King James back in Cleveland is an inferior supporting cast. And somehow, Boston would be better? The trouble with the Celtics is that all of these kinds have potential (in the NBA parlance of our times guys like Jefferson, Gomes West, Perkins and so on might even have tremendous upside potential), but they haven't managed to accomplish much as yet. In the long run, it would be better for LeBron to stay in Cleveland than come to the declined and fallen Celtic empire (apologies to grammar and Edward Gibbon).

Of course, there is always the possibility that Danny Ainge might have to do something dramatic to remind people that there is a basketball team in town. He might even realize that Bostonians might discover the closely guarded secret that Antoine Walker helped a team win a ring, even though Ainge didn't like his game. If that story broke, Ainge might find the media and the fans keeping a watchful eye on his stewardship of the Celtic franchise. That's the last thing he needs, if he wants to remain employed.

The more likely scenario is that Cleveland will trade LeBron and the Celtics won't get him. Getting 75% value for LeBron might net a few decent players. But they won't be a contender. They might not be a playoff team, which would leave them with a lottery pick next season. Interestingly enough, in a story that seemed to be broken on this site (it wasn't) based on the attention it received at the time, the Celtics once owned the rights to the Cleveland pick in the first round in 2007.

And since no one paid as much attention to this as they should have, you might wonder where said pick went. It went to Phoenix, along with $1.8 million to pay a retired stiff whom you may know as Brian Grant. In return Celtic fans get Rajon Rondo. I could do a better job running the Celtics in my sleep than Danny Ainge does.

And if you don't believe me, just watch Theo Ratliff trying to Willis Reed his way around the court in the season opener. Tell me that he's not an overpaid, overage version of Kendrick Perkins with serious, lingering health issues. I hated Raef. I screamed bloody murder about the Antoine trade because he was part of it. He was useless. His contract was terrible. He was soft. But at least he was consistently in the lineup. Now he's gone, and his replacement has two "redeeming" qualities. First, allegedly he can play defense. He could at one point, I concede, but it's 2006 not 1999. And last, his terrible contract expires on year before Raef's terrible contract. And yet it is only the Cincinnati Kid who calls for Danny's termination. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it's been a while since I posted an update on my blog. Rest assured, I have my reasons. My computer is in the weeds with what I assume is a virus problem. I have a theory or two to account for this problem. If you visit Mark Cuban's blog (Bear in mind, you do so at the risk of your own intellectual well being) with its continual critique of journalism such as it is, perhaps you might see where I'm coming from. If you can find the point in the latest entry, I think you win a prize.

Is it a coincidence that my computer is wracked with a virus while Mark Cuban treats a topic (Ozzie Guillen's recent verbal verbal misstep) covered in agonizing detail by a site in which Mark Cuban himself has been the subject of a vicious attack? Most likely, it is a coincidence. We here at Cincinnati Kid Industries do endorse most forms of paranoia. Particularly the delusional variety.

There is also the possibility that the Red Sox themselves are tired of me, the lone voice of truth in a sycophantic region devoted to glossing over their foibles. As was the case in the Seinfeld episode where Kramer tried to scam the Post Office into replacing Jerry's stereo, the Red Sox just might be endeavoring to drag the Cincinnati Kid from his cushy lair and force me to rely on internet cafes to expose me to the harsh, clear light of day as the monster I am. A monster so vile...

Whatever the case may be, I ought not rule out coincidence, especially as I am a great believer in Ockham's Razor. The likelihood of Mark Cuban or the Red Sox knowing who I am and what I write is pretty slim. My fame has yet to measure with my capabilities as a writer. I realize that, but I can live with it. But I am still paranoid. And yet, I am not quite prepared to rule out the possibility that I am right and you all are out to get me. For my part, I believe that paranoid and arrogant is a winning combination, although it might explain why I'm still single. I've also been told that I'm immature and afraid of commitment. It just might take that weird cult leader from eHarmony.com to get me off the market. Then again, I think I'd rather be single than go through a process like Warren Beatty went through in the Parallax View. I wouldn't want to live in a world where I might come out the other side of the looking glass a Red Sox fan, or worse.

The real subject of my post should have been up a week ago, when it was relevant. Alas, it has little to do with Scott Kazmir markedly outpitching Josh Beckett. I'm going to hold off on commenting on Curt Schilling's brilliant effort for a little while, too. Nor is the pathetic weakness of the NL East my concern on this fine evening. I must confess, that there was very little to say toward the stated purpose of this site with the recent wining streak ruining my days. And I have nothing patriotic to say to celebrate America's 230th birthday. Tonight my subject is Danny Ainge, and the inexplicable lack of criticism for his stewardship of the Celtics.

From what I saw of the NBA Draft (and I watched until Dee Brown was off the board because I thought he was vastly underrated), it seemed to me that Danny Ainge set out to make himself the worst GM in NBA history. Alas, Isaiah Thomas stole his thunder. No one will criticize Ainge when they can wonder why Isaiah picked Renaldo Balkman at 20. For those of you scoring at home, Balkman would almost assuredly have been available in free agency. After this, it mattered little whom Mr. Thomas selected with the 29th pick. For all the good this draft will do the Knicks, Isaiah might as well have drafted me.

The real issue is how poorly Ainge manipulated the draft process. In hindsight, the Cs could have ended up with Randy Foye or Brandon Roy, based on what Portland and Minnesota did with the 6th and 7th picks. For my part, I think that if Sebastian Telfair is all hype. Without that documentary film on ESPN, how many people would know him if they fell over him? And then there's Theo Ratliff. Who knew he was still alive, let alone still in the league? Read the last portion of this passage to get a realistic assessment of this trade.

If you read the article in the last link in the preceding paragraph, you'll find that Bob Ryan gave this draft an F-, and the two guys at the bottom of the piece have problems with Ainge's moves. But Peter May is willing to give Ainge the benefit of the doubt, and Shira Springer is guardedly optimistic. I hate to say this, but I agree with Bob Ryan. That is becoming a disturbing trend in this blog.

As for Rajon Rondo, according to Shira Springer, Ainge had him ranked 7th overall. Of course, Shira also pointed out that Danny Ainge has as much use for media mock drafts as he did for Antoine Walker. While the pro-Antoine anti-management bias of this site is overt, that doesn't mean that we are opposed to showing some consideration to those harboring opposing views. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to ask where Ms. Springer has been for the last several weeks.

In case she didn't notice, Antoine Walker earned a championship ring. As far as I know, not being familiar with the owners of the Pistons or the Heat, I cannot say the same for Danny Ainge as an executive. If I owned the Pistons, I would have been sure to give Danny a ring for the Rasheed Wallace trade where the Cs took spare parts (I will admit that Lindsay Hunter has been a solid player for a number of years, but how can he count when he never played for the Cs?) and Detroit took the O'Brien Trophy. As for the Heat's owner, I think he might make a nice gesture as Bob Kraft did on his visit to Russian head of state Vladimir Putin. After all, two of the players who helped win him the title had spent last season helping the Celtics to achieve their lone playoff appearance in the Danny Ainge Era.

Antoine Walker is vastly underappreciated as a basketball player. He can be arrogant. He misses a lot of shots. In many ways, he reminds me of me. People in Boston that think they know the Celtics, or think they know basketball still use his name as a punchline. To them, he's a poster boy for what's wrong with the NBA. And yet, he was a contributing member of a championship team. It is true that Danny Ainge was also a contributing member of the Celtics' dynasty of the 1980s, but what has he accomplished since then?

In the Miami Herald piece I linked above (see underappreciated), there are two paragraphs that need to be quoted:

In explaining the trade of a seven-year veteran and Celtics co-captain, Ainge reportedly told the media that Walker's leadership "stifled'' other players' leadership and had a ''grasp'' on the Celtics franchise that wasn't ``a positive thing.''

Walker pointed out, ``Look at Boston, look at me right now. Last time I checked, I don't think Boston's had that great a record since I've been gone.''

That speaks for itself. Perhaps Antoine Walker wasn't stifling the leadership of his former teammates. Perhaps there was no leadership there to be stifled. The Celtics cannot ignore the fact that Danny Ainge is a terrible GM. His hat hangs on his draft record. But the team is young, and as yet unproven. They have a great deal of potential, but the trouble with potential is that more often than not it is never reached.

And yet, there is no serious criticism of Danny Ainge the GM. Bill Simmons almost seemed like he wanted to go there in his Draft Diary. Instead, he chose a far easier target in Isaiah Thomas. To be fair, Isaiah's decisions are so bad that they demand immediate response and often overshadow the folly of those around him. I even considered inducting the Sports Guy into the Max Mercy Hall of Fame for leaving Ainge out of the bad GM summit he wrote a few months back (there is no link to this piece, Cincinnati Kid Industries cannot afford the archive subscription fee at ESPN.com). I had to rule against it, since I laugh out loud when I read his stuff. So for the immediate future, Bill is immune to the Max Mercy HOF, especially since the next inductee deserves a special ceremony.

As I said before, Shira Springer blithely said that mock drafts rank up there in Ainge World with Employee Number Eight. So I will wrap up this post with some cheerful thoughts for the last remaining Celtics fans. Danny Ainge elected to pay the money the Suns owed Brian Grant to sit home and watch TV (as he retired on June 28). For the record, that is $1.8 million to a guy who won't even play a game of basketball, let alone play for Boston and a first round pick next year (granted, it comes from Cleveland so that it won't be all that great unless King James vanishes from the material sphere) for Rajon Rondo, a point guard who prompted this reaction from Bill Simmons in his running diary:

9:40 -- Just when this draft couldn't get any crazier, my beloved Celtics just bought the 21st pick from Phoenix to take Rajon Rondo, the Kentucky guard who Chad Ford touted all summer because he mistakenly thought Rondo was foreign. Unfortunately, Rondo can't shoot. This is an understatement. As Bilas says, "Teams in the SEC didn't even guard him." Put it this way: The list of NBA teams that won an NBA title with a point guard who couldn't shoot looks like this:
1. (empty)2. (empty)3. (empty)
On the other hand, my Celtics moles told me that Rondo absolutely DESTROYED Foye and Williams in their workout a few weeks ago. So who knows?
God, I'm a sap ...
9:43 -- My dad's reaction: "So we have two new point guards, but one of them's 5-foot-11 and the other one can't shoot? And I'm supposed to be happy about this?" Tough to argue with that one. I'm not even going to bother telling him about Rondo's freakishly long fingers. Maybe tomorrow.

At least the Celtics will have a dance team for the first time in franchise history in the coming season. It's almost ironic that two teams broke tradition in a big way in the last few months. Boston, with it's arena rafters filled with championship banners and the retired numbers of past heroes now has cheerleaders. Miami, the former expansion team whose first ever field goal came from the immortal Rory Sparrow, made its first finals appearance and won its first title. But I'm wrong about Antoine Walker, and Danny Ainge is right.

And Sebastian Telfair and Rajon Rondo will be a championship back court one of these days.

In the immortal words of country music legend George Strait: "I've got some ocean front property in Arizona. From my front porch you can see the sea. I've got some ocean front property in Arizona. An' if you'll buy that I'll throw the Golden Gate in free."