Bambino's Curse: Diary of a Red Sox Fan

A Modest Proposal

Edward is on vacation until August 10th, but he's assembled a lineup of guest bloggers to fill in while he's away. Today's guest is Tony Pierce of Busblog.

When Bill Mueller launched his second grand slam in the same game last week it became obvious to me how the Red Sox can win the World Series this year.

They need to trade him.

The problem the Sox have had over the last 85 years is that they've endured The Curse but oddly ignored it, as if it was a crazy old uncle who mumbles to himself in the corner.

Pardon me, but The Curse is real.

I'm a Cub fan and I can tell you The Curse is real, and I'm sorry that it's real, but I'm happy that Sox fans at least have The Curse because once they break it, all will be well.

The Cubs don't have such an easy solution. They've just sucked, which in a way is easier on the soul than making it to the precipice of victory only to fall into the tragic depths of failure.

Even I find it heartbreaking that the last four times the Red Sox made it to the World Series they lost in the 7th game. Seriously, what could be worse?

And it makes me wonder how many more 7th game losses the Sox front office will put their faithful following through until they do something about that cackling old man in the corner.

Well now's the time to take action. But first they must accept that The Curse is real, and then they must undo what was wrongly done in the first place. The Curse began when Babe Ruth was sold from the Sox to the Yankees for $100,000. At the time the Babe was a pitcher, therefore the first thing the Red Sox need to do is trade their best pitcher away.

Drastic? Biblical? Crazy?

Crazy enough to work.

But who you trade him to is also important, and obvious. The only team who has suffered a longer World Series drought than the Sox are my Cubs. Not only do the Sox need to send Pedro to the North Side, but they also have to throw in former Cub Bill Mueller.

Must I remind you of what happened the last time a former Cub was on the field in a Red Sox uniform during game seven of the World Series? Which tells us exactly who the Red Sox should ask for in return for the hot hitting third baseman, and the dominating pitcher: no one.

If I was the Sox there's no way I would want any former Cubs on the field. All I would ask them to give me would be $100,000, and maybe some prospects who can rise up in the future once The Curse has been lifted and everything returns to what it was like 85 years ago.

When the Red Sox were winning, and the Yankees were losing. Back when $100,000 was more than just the name of a candy bar, but it was the difference between nearly a century of frustration and woe.

They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over yet expecting different results. By trying to break the 85-year streak of not winning the World Series while ignoring the obvious Curse is downright cuckoo. Therefore the only solution might be the craziest of all.

Sell Martinez and Mueller to the Cubs now, and thank me for your ring in October.

About today's guest: Tony Pierce is an undercover superhero based in Hollywood, California. Cursed with growing up in the suburbs of Chicago he is still a die-hard Cubs fan despite spending the last twenty years in Southern California.

*link to

Home Away From Home

Edward is on vacation until August 10th, but he's assembled a lineup of guest bloggers to fill in while he's away. Today's guest is Alex Belth of Bronx Banter.

On Monday, guest columnist Isaac Taylor shared his trepidation about moving to New York as a New Englander and a Red Sox fan. He was complimentary and more than fair in his comments regarding the Yankee fans he's encountered in New York City, which means that he's either a real generous guy, or he's been incredibly lucky. Not that there aren't plenty of sincere Yankee fans, but I would assume that you are more likely to find the phonies than the gems.

Front-running Yankee fans are a dime a dozen. They sure are easier to spot than the die-hards. I grew up in the 80s, so I have much love for the Bobby Meacham-Andre Robertson-Dennis Rasmussen generation, not to mention the Horace Clarke-Stick Michael-Fritz Peterson Era that preceded The Bronx Zoo. You know, the fans that stick with the Bombers through it all, and above all, appreciate how great the last ten years have been. Because they weren't always like this, and they won't be like it forever either. I think if you haven't been humbled by the Yankees success, you are missing the point.

Yankee fans are so accustomed to success that they feel entitled to it. In this age of instant gratification, it is understandable why people would buy into this narcissistic fantasy, but it doesn't make it easier to swallow. Or any less obnoxious.

In Annie Hall, Woody Allen complained to Tony Roberts: "Don't you see? The rest of the country looks upon New York like we're left-wing Communist, Jewish, homosexual, pornographers. I think of us that way, sometimes, and I live here."

That pretty much sums up how I feel about the Yankees, even Yankee fans. The rest of the country looks at us like we're right-wing, front-running, fascist bullies. I think of us that way sometimes, and I love the Bronx Bombers. It's a small price to pay, all considering.

The good news for Isaac is that he won't be alone; there is no shortage of Red Sox rooters in New York. Go see a Sox-Yankee game at The Stadium and you are bound to find a good ten to fifteen thousand card-carrying members of Red Sox Nation in the house. In fact, the only time Yankee fans get a taste of their own medicine is when the Sox are in town. Every other team in the league has to put up with a boisterous crew of Yankee fans in their home park. When the Sox are in town, we have to put up with Red Sox Nation. No matter how one-sided the rivalry has been, it's still no fun at all to be invaded by the enemy.

Head up to Washington Heights, and you'll find as much Red Sox gear as Yankee gear. Of course, when local boy Manny Ramirez was playing for the Tribe, the neighborhood was replete with Indians apparel. But now that both he and Pedro Martinez play for the Sox, the Dominicans are huge Boston fans. Even those who root for the Yankees will take a night off when Prince P is on the hill.

Most New Yorkers and Yankee fans pay little mind to the Red Sox faithful. Sure, you'll find "Red Sox Suck" shirts at The Stadium, but for the most part, New Englanders can go about their business around town undetected and unperturbed. I like to give a mock dirty look to people wearing Red Sox hats, but since most folks from out of town are shy about making eye contact, nothing has ever come of it. (I'm far more interested in engaging in a dialogue than saying something wise anyhow; the dirty look is all schtick.) If Isaac keeps his head up, perhaps we'll have a chance encounter one of these days. If not, I'm sure he'll find plenty of Sox fans to keep him company.

About today's guest: Alex Belth worked in the movie business for close to ten years on projects like Ken Burns' "Baseball" series, and the Coen brothers' "The Big Lebowski." He is currently writing a biography on Curt Flood for a Yound Adult audience while keeping up with the Yankees on his blog, Bronx Banter.

*link to

Mis-Nomar

Edward is on vacation until August 10th, but he's assembled a lineup of guest bloggers to fill in while he's away. Today's guest is David Pinto of Baseball Musings.

It's a real pleasure to be subbing for Edward Cossette. He captures on a daily basis the angst of Red Sox fans with his wit and wisdom. I like to explain things through the numbers. On to Nomar.

Nomar Garciaparra has 77 RBI this year. It's a good total, but it's barely in the top 10 in the American League. That bothers me. Nomar is in a prime RBI spot on the highest scoring team in the league. Somehow, I think he should be up there with Wells and Delgado. Why isn't he?

RBI men do not exist in a vacuum. We assume that batters put in the middle of the order have the power to drive in runs, but they have to apply that power when the ducks are on the pond. Doubles, triples and HR are very valuable in these situations, because they are capable of driving in runners from first as well as the runners in scoring position. But they can't drive in runners who aren't there. So what's going on with Nomar? Is he not hitting with men on base, or is he just not seeing that many base runners?

Nomar has a batting average of .321 with the bases empty, vs. .312 with men on base. But, the .312 is a loud .312. Garciappara's slugging percentage is .544 with the bases empty, .575 with men on. Thirty-one of his sixty-one extra-base hits have come with men on base, and 11 of his 19 HR. Nomar appears to be doing his job.

One would think Nomar would be seeing a lot of men on base. The Red Sox have earned their way on more than any other team in the majors.

Team	Hits+BB+HBP
Red Sox	1620
Cardinals	1574
Rockies	1561
Blue Jays	1561
Yankees	1552

But Garciaparra has come to the plate this year with 310 runners on base, 34th in the majors among the 166 batting title qualifiers. What's the problem? The number 1 and 2 hitters. The Red Sox, with an AL-high team on-base percentage of .360, have only gotten a .336 OBA out of their table setters, which ranks 8th in the AL. It's as if the Red Sox have their 8-9 hitters leading off. That's why it was good to see Bill Mueller batting 2nd last night. Mueller ranks 8th in the AL in OBA. He combined with Johnny "Second Half" Damon (.329 OBA before the break, .390 since), to set up a three-run HR by Nomar last night.

The Red Sox were wasting Nomar's power by not batting their best OBA men in front of him. It looks like that is turning around, so look for Nomar's RBI total to rocket.

P.S. A quick note on Suppan's performance last night. After the trade deadline, I posted an analysis of the Majors' moves, including this:

Suppan, like Jose Guillen, is having a career year. Prior to this year, his lowest ERA in a year in which he pitched 100 innings was 4.37. He's never been a strikeout pitcher and he ususally gives up a good number of HR. His walks are usually between 2.5 and 3.0 per 9 IP. This year, he's gotten those down to 2.0. He's also reduced his HR rate by 45%. Is it real? There's a good chance it's the park in Pittsburgh. He had a 2.88 ERA in Pittsburgh and a 4.36 ERA on the road. He's probably better than Mendoza, but I would not be surprised to see him get pounded at Fenway.

Needless to say, I wasn't surprised.

About today's guest: David Pinto's arrival at college in Cambridge, MA coincided with the weekend of the 1978 Boston Massacre (Yankees 42, Red Sox 9). A Fenway season ticket holder during the 80's, Pinto was present when Boston fans invented the Darryl cheer during the 1986 World Series. Love of baseball and knowing the right people led him to work for ten years as a senior programmer at STATS, Inc. and the lead researcher for ESPN's Baseball Tonight. He currently pours his baseball expertise into writing Baseball Musings, which he hopes someone will refer to as the Instapundit of Baseball Blogs.

*link to

The Original George Costanza

Edward is on vacation until August 10th, but he's assembled a lineup of guest bloggers to fill in while he's away. Today's guest is Michele Catalano of A Small Victory.

When the writer of a column with the tagline "Diary of a Red Sox Fan" asks a Yankee fan from New York to fill in for him while he's on vacation, you would think only trouble can abound.

I'm kinder than that. After all, I am a Yankee fan that hates Roger Clemens, so I do have some common sense. I'm not going to talk stats or standings or World Series wins. In fact, I think I'll just tell you a story. A baseball story about the most vaunted Stadium in all of sports.

It was the summer of '86. I had gone back to college the previous spring after an extended hiatus. 21 credits crammed into one semester after not being in school for a while was exhausting, so I passed on taking any summer classes. I was working nights at the time and thought I would spend my summer days sleeping until noon and lounging around the house. And then my Dean made me an offer I couldn't refuse - a summer job that would entail driving to The Bronx every morning, not getting home until midnight most nights, working a few weekends, all for no pay except a few college credits.

I almost laughed at him until he explained who I would be working for. The New York Yankees. Not as a hot dog vendor or ticket-taker. I would be working inside the vaunted walls of Yankee Stadium. Hell, I would have paid them to let me have that job.

I was to spend my days as an editorial assistant for Yankee Magazine, cropping pictures, proofreading stories and doing advertising layout for the magazine. At night, if the Yankees were on a homestand, I would stay for the games and run errands. If I wasn't needed I was welcome to stay for the games, anyhow.

I spent a lot of time that humid summer in the cool confines of the archives room, poring through photos of Yogi Berra and Joe Dimaggio, reading scorecards from games played long ago and generally living in a baseball time warp. The room was stuffed to the gills with trophies and plaques and mementos of the greatest baseball team that ever existed. And here was all this history, all this fame right at my fingertips. Ticket stubs, game programs, yellowed articles and dusty photographs were my companions that summer. Each time I left the room - usually after a futile search for whatever memorabilia or picture I was sent there for as the room was incredibly unorganized - my fingers would be coated with dust and grime of the legacy of legends.

I watched plenty of games from the press box. Sometimes I helped keep the scorecard, sometimes I just chatted with reporters or players who were on the injured list and joined the press to watch the game.

I knew I had it made. I ate lunch in the third base seats, legs stretched out, sun beating down, and Yankee Stadium seemingly to myself. I parked in the player's lot, sometimes walking in with the players themselves. I was the original George Costanza.

Late that August the pennant race was heating up and the summer nights were cooling down. I knew my days as a part of the New York Yankees staff were drawing to a close. In a way, I was relieved that I wouldn't have to make that miserable morning drive on the Grand Central anymore. But I hated give up the perks of a job where I mingled with Don Mattingly and had my name in Yankee Magazine.

It was close to my last night there when I was invited to watch a game from the General Manager's office. There I was, in this huge office full of baseball impresarios, sharing drinks and glad-handing each other. I stood quivering in the corner, too overwhelmed by the presence of baseball greats to move out of the spot.

One of the employees I had become friends with over the summer grabbed me and dragged me over to the huge picture window that overlooked the playing field of Yankee Stadium. I was watching the game from an office behind home plate, surveying the game as if I owned the team. I looked at the outfield bleachers where I had sat so many times before. I was mesmerized.

My friend excused himself to go get a drink and I stayed at the window, watching the game.

Then a voice from beside me, "Great view, isn't it?"

I looked up to see Mickey Mantle standing beside me, grinning. I nodded, unable to speak.

Me and Mickey, watching a Yankee game from the office above home plate.

That, my friends, is a King of the World moment.

About today's guest: Michele Catalano is a life-long Yankee fan who hates Roger Clemens, was once kicked out of Boston Garden and very rarely brings up October 2, 1978 when talking to Red Sox fans.