In the least shocking news of Spring Training, Daisuke Matsuzaka's batting practice session as postponed yet again, though he did throw 19 pitches in the bullpen, according to Boston.com.
And so that old adage proves itself more than true once again: you can never have too much pitching. There were a lot of questions this offseason about what the Red Sox were going to do with six fully capable big-league starters, and speculation was wild, with suggestions ranging from sending the now 25-year-old Clay Buchholz to Pawtucket to start the season to relegating aging knuckleballer Tim Wakefield to the bullpen.
Wakefield was confident that he would find his way into the rotation to open the year, answering a question about his place on the roster if everyone was healthy with a query of his own: "When does that ever happen?" You guys know by now how I feel about the wily veteran, who has played for the Sox for more than 75% of my life, so I'll spare you the gushing praise.
Love, love, LOVE.
However, I'm more than a little fed up with Daisuke at this point, and I suspect you all might have similar feelings. When he came to the club back in 2007, his arrival was documented with more enthusiasm than Nixon's first trip to China, and he did reasonably well that year, and exceeded expectation's in 2008, before suffering a lost season of sorts last year. Now, in an attempt to rectify the lack of communication of a year ago, he's reporting injury after injury, putting him weeks behind the other starters.
Don't get me wrong, if Matsuzaka is hurting, I want him to get the treatment he needs. However, if this is what we're getting for $100 million, I can't be the only one who's a little exasperated.
Amalie Benjamin has a great piece on Boston.com today about the apparent lack of conflict in the admittedly awkward Adrian Beltre/Mike Lowell situation. Of course, Mikey is the fan favorite who had an underwhelming season last year due to decreased defensive production, while Beltre is the new guy who has a reputation for flashing the leather, though he struggled immensely at the plate in 2009.
According to Benjamin's piece, the Sox front office assured Beltre that Lowell would not be the starting third baseman, regardless of his eventual decision (which fully explains their botched trade attempt) but it will make things awkward if Beltre gets off to a slow start. The fans will not be particularly forgiving of a bad April from a player replacing Lowell, who is so revered that he even had the Captain lobbying for him back in 2007.
It's tough to replace a guy who is held in such high esteem by the fans, and Beltre gets it: as he said to Benjamin, he's been down this road before. However, I have a hunch that Beltre could turn out to be a fan favorite in time, especially if his swing is as suited to Fenway Park as some have speculated, and all he has to do is stop confusing us with the Yankees. In Seattle, he said, the goal was to try to contend for a playoff spot:
"Here, it’s different because you don’t hope. Playoffs is a failure. World Series is the main goal."
Alright, let's set some things straight. Every year, the Boston Red Sox try to win 95 games, a number Theo and his team of math wizzes have decided is generally good enough to get to the playoffs. Yes, the roster is set up by those same men to be as good as possible, and thus the team generally makes it there. However, fans who have started to see the playoffs as a birthright (or a failure) need to get the hell out of Red Sox Nation. Let's be serious: anything can happen in a seven game series, and the effect is magnified in the LDS, which of course is only five games long. Getting to the playoffs is what takes most of the work: winning the World Series has almost as much to do with luck as anything else.
Of course winning the World Series is the main goal. I do, however, like to think that most Red Sox fans aren't spoiled and ignorant enough to see any other playoff run as a failure. Get that straight, Beltre, and you could easily win yourself a place in fans' affections.
Today's quote of the day is in two parts: the first is a comment to Chad Finn in his weekly Boston.com chat (if you don't participate, or at least read the transcript, you're missing out), and the second is Chad's response.
Comment from Jay: Any chance that New York will use the now vacant old Yankee Stadium area to build a giant warehouse to store A-rod's ego and Jeter's intangibles?
Chad Finn: I like the way you think, Jay. Unfortunately, I think Leigh Teixeira is using it as a walk-in closet.
Here, A*Rod gets a fistful of Jeter's...erm... intangibles.
Two men after my own heart. I've done my share of digs at A*Rod and the Woman Who Has Mark Teixeira's Balls in a Vice Grip, but I grudgingly respect Jeter. That said, the media absolutely FAWNS over him, and it disgusts me a little (okay, a lot).
For the actual plans on the area where the Stadium stood, click here.
Yesterday, during a Red Sox-Mets exhibition game, Jason Bay was given a reception that was, as he said, "lukewarm."
Red Sox Nation, this is unacceptable. Jason Bay played his heart out every time he set foot on that field for us. He came over in a midseason trade, and picked up where Manny left off - something not too many players could do.
Could the negotiations this winter have gone better? Of course, but that's as much Theo's fault as it is Bay's, and Theo sure isn't getting booed.
As David Wright said, “For everything you brought to that city, they should cheer for you.”
Lest you forget, Jason Bay scored the winning fun in the 2008 ALDS against the Angels.
As much as it pains me to agree with a New Yorker (although the Mets are the lesser of two evils), Wright is correct. We owe Jason Bay more respect than that. Was he a Nomar? No. But he wasn't a Johnny Damon, or a Manny, either, and he was always a class act.
I'm embarrassed about the behavior of you so-called fans down in Florida. Jason Bay gave us all he had, and he deserves better than that.
Yesterday I walked around campus is a slight daze, a goofy grin permanently plastered to my face. People looked at me strangely, but I couldn't bring myself to care: Nomar was home, and he still loved us.
I told my friends about his one-day deal with the Red Sox during lunch, and they looked at me blankly. When I told them I had cried with joy during his press conference, they just rolled their eyes; I clearly need to befriend more baseball fans.
Nomar Garciaparra was - and is - someone special to the people of New England, and to me, yesterday felt like the unexpected return of a childhood friend. Of course, that's because I was a child when Nomar made his Sox debut, and barely a teenager when he was so abruptly traded away. I suspect that sports fans felt differently about his gesture depending on their age: perhaps it felt like a reunion with a high school sweetheart, or the return of an estranged child.
It just looks so right...
Regardless of the specifics, thousands of people all over New England rejoiced yesterday: the golden boy of the late 1990's/early 2000's had come home. For those fans who might be newer to the fold, let me explain: Nomar was like Dustin Pedroia's grit, Kevin Youkilis's defensive prowess and power, and Jacoby Ellsbury's good looks and flair, all rolled into one spectacular home grown package. Boston (understandably) loved him, and though his relationship with the media was always shaky, he appreciated the fans.
That was perhaps my favorite aspect of the press conference yesterday, the fact that not only did Garciaparra remember our devotion, he treasured it:
Red Sock Nation, I mean that is the perfect word to describe it because they're everywhere. And everywhere I go I get so many people coming to me and tell me, 'Thank you. Thank you for what you've done. Thank you for being a part of it. We miss you. We still love you.' We do all that, and it's so genuine and mutual and I think, hopefully, from all my actions throughout my career, in that uniform, and hopefully my actions today, and tell them what it means to me, and that the feelings are mutual, and how I feel about them as well.
As much lip service as the rabid New England fanbase gets from new players, Nomar really gets us. Though he wasn't actually on the field for the 2004 championship, he played a big part in its coming, and he truly understood what so many players and commentators failed to grasp:
It's winning the World Series for these people. These people that have bled, cried, cheered over the years. Winning the World Series in Boston is more than an individual player winning the World Series. It was winning the World Series for these people, for the Red Sock Nation.
Despite the fact that his relationship with the front office was strained, and his communications with the media were rather rocky, Nomar put everything on the line for the fans, every day. Though injuries would limit him toward the end of his time in Boston, and even more so in the other cities in which he played, Nomar Garciaparra loved his fans.
So, yes, I cried yesterday. And then? I couldn't stop smiling, because #5 was home.
Love, love, LOVE.
