Running Down a Dream

Game 90 - Phillies

Mess 10, Phils 9

Record: 48 wins, 42 losses

Muck the Fets!

What do you want? Something a little more erudite? Sorry. Ain't gonna happen.

Once again, this team (Phils, of course) cannot get into overdrive. I am tired of finding something positive from another lost series. Fact is, we lost 3 of 4 at home to a club that is going nowhere this year. 2 and 2 with losses to Maine and Johan I can rationalize. 1 and 3 with the lone victory on the night Johann pitched? Sorry, I am perplexed.

Just before the All Star break it is clear to me that the NL is pretty mediocre top to bottom and still there is no way anyone from the NL East is going to make any waves past the NLDS. Maybe the NL should revamp the pennant chase this year. Let's set up a round robin playoff with the Cubs, Cards and the reloaded Brewers. Call it BratFest '09 and have some fun!

If any of you peckers tries to tell me to hold on or mutters something about the season being a marathon, I swear I'll....

The Confusion

Game 93 - Red Sox

Red Sox 1, Twins 0
Record: 53-39

I'm not quite sure, but I think I just watched the Red Sox win a 1-run game on the strength of 7+ innings from Daisuke Matsuzaka, a clutch hit with a man in scoring position and scoreless, high-leverage pitching from the bullpen. I'd say I think I'm hallucinating (there is wine involved), but I'm fairly sure the Triumvirate of Aggressive Ineptitude went a combined 1-for-10, so this must have actually happened.

All right, all right, all right.

Under the Boardwalk

Games 80 through 89 - Philllies

5 wins, 5 losses (Hey! I was on vacation!)

Record: 48 wins, 41 losses

I am back from the Delaware shore and not a moment too soon. It’s not that I am married to this fabulous career of mine – in fact, I am not sure exactly what it is that I do. It is that I am first and foremost a creature of habit. All that loungin’ about drinking import beers and smoking Cohiba knockoffs whilst frittering away one sunny day after another doing things I really don’t enjoy like going to the beach and to Funland with the kiddies have made me long for the drab and dreary confines of my office. At precisely 9:14 today, the morning coffee resumed its reliable and effective stimulation of the lower regions of my digestive system and just like that I’M BACK BABEEEEE!

Now about those phinicky Phils – not much has changed. Still can’t hit good pitching (witness the effort vs. Johan on the 4th) and prone to inexplicable droughts vs. bad pitching (witness the effort turned in against Oliver Perez yesterday.) In between , they hammer their way through mediocre pitching frivolously piling on unnecessary runs in unsightly blowouts. Someone please figure out how many home runs these boys have after building 8 run leads. (8 is an arbitrarily obtained number I realize but it probably safely enough “up there” in terms of a safe lead these days.) Concerning those blowouts, I can’t even enjoy them. I am drawn to the clouds despite the overwhelming sunshine. When I see a score of 13-2, my gut instinct is to suggest that it was a waste of offense at best and at worst, a temptation for the boys to foolishly buy into the notion that they are world beaters. I suppose that is because the inevitably follow up those efforts with anemic production the next day.

While I was out, someone asked me about Mr. Myers being demoted to Allentown. Well, to paraphrase Billy Joel, “it’s getting very hard to stayyyyy-ay-ay-ay with Bret Myers.” It appears he never “mentally” accepted his return to the rotation whatever that means. Bunch of psychobabble bullshit if you ask me. It’s simple Bret. Take the f**king ball every 5th day and chuck. The rules are the same. 4 balls are a walk. 3 strikes are an out. 3 outs are an inning. Freaking moron! If it makes you feel better, just pretend each inning is the 9th. What an ass! I will waste no more on this knucklehead except to posit that were it not for his inexcusable collapse, this ball club would be comfortably ahead of the pack right now instead of treading water atop a moribund collection of heavily flawed clubs.

What else is there? Oh, allow me to be the anti-Baby Boss for a moment. I hate the American League! OK? I don’t have any use for interleague play. It’s unfair, unbalanced and un-American! You don’t have to consort with anybody from the other league. That’s in the Constitution! I say we rid ourselves of this unholy experiment to drum up more $$$ for the coffers of Bud’s buds. Nothing good has come of this for my phair phranchise. (You know, somewhere along the line, I think I promised not to do that ‘ph’ thing. Oh well, I am pheeling it right now so I will use it to your detriment with no apologies.) Interleague play benefits only the Yanks, Mets, Cubs and White Sox and any NL team owner that hosts the Yanks and Red Sox. I guarantee you no one in Philly is clamoring for the Twins to come to town in ’09! Dump it now. It’s stupid. The American League is stupid. Blogging is stupid too!

OK, I feel better now.

Now then, here’s hoping the Phils can salvage game 4 against the listless Mess and get ready for a grueling week before the break (Cards & D’Backs for six at The Bank.)

Whit – you will enjoy no fomenting over the results of game 2 and 3. I have summarily expelled them from memory. Well almost. That outing verses Oliver Perez is stuck in my esophagus like an undercooked bacon wrapped scallop.

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

Games 86 through 88 - Mets

Phillies 3, Mets 2
Mets 9, Phillies 4
Mets 4, Phillies 2 (12 inn.)
Record: 44-44

In a pattern that's come to be all too familiar, my brother-in-law Patrick and I chose to take in the gutpunch of a game in this highly-anticipated series. After that, I sat blissfully unware of the goings-on the next two games . . . when they won in exciting fashion twice. (You might recall that he and I attended Game 7 of the NLCS two years ago. Ugh.)

As with that fateful night at Shea, everything about the night worked to perfection -- except the final result. We had a pair of free tickets, seats in the lower deck, car service to and from the game, a voucher for several free beers at a bar beforehand, and a snoot full when we entered the stadium. We were somehow flanked by Mets fans in our row, we had Johan Santana on the hill, and a recent call-up (whom the Mets had crushed once before) going for the Phils. When the rain begain to fall we were just a few rows under the overhang, dry and content. Not bad.

Then there was the game. The Mets notched a pair of runs in the 5th, when they should have had many more. Mr. Clutch, Carlos Beltran, whiffed to kill the inning, of course. Santana was something to behold, however, and we felt pretty good heading down the stretch. Our mistake.

A combination of a couple of shortcomings undid the Mets and their paltry lead. First, Jerry Manuel had decided to sit Ryan Church, have Endy Chavez play right, and start the unheralded Chris Aguila in left. Questionable at best. Church has been hitting lefties like never before in his career this year. And when Aguila hesitated, squirmed, paused, and ultimately let Jayson Werth's 370-foot single drop in front of him, that's when we really wondered about the decision.

David Wright wondered, too, with 10-second glares towards LF between pitches -- not once but twice. His long look at the rookie confirmed for us that this was a ball Endy catches jogging, not even sprinting and diving. Naturally, it came back to hurt the Mets.

The other piece of this equation is Santana. Statistically, he's been super-solid this year for the Metros, and watching him throw supports the numbers. But there always seems to be some slight letdown that lets the air out of his good work. On some nights it's a flukey homer to a scrub. (Felix Hernandez's grand slam comes to mind.) On this night it was the dire need to retire either Ryan Howard or Pat Burrell to preserve the lead, and he couldn't do either. With it on the line, he fell just slightly short. Blame Chris Aguila all you want -- and we did through the next several Bud aluminum bottles -- but Johan Santana wasn't guiltless.

Later, almost as if scripted, the Mets went down in order to set up a bottom of the 9th that would send the Phillie Phaithful home happy and nearly sully our otherwise excellent evening. Duaner Sanchez battled but gave up hits ahead in the count, and that was that. Victorino, walk-off, blah blah blah.

And then the real fun began, watching the Phillies fans gloat after a win. It was like watching a fish ride a bicycle, what with nobody in the realm of Philadelphia fandom all that acclimated to celebrating victory. Not one but two separate Phils fans gave Patrick the fake-high-five-psyche (one was a fake fist bump) in the bar after the game. Others dropped unfunny insults in earshot. Then, in a weird form of ragging us for supporting the Mets (and bravely wearing Mets caps and shirts), two Phils fans -- wait for it -- bought us beers. Ah, but there was a catch. We asked for Buds, and they bought us Miller Lites! Patrick even overheard one of the duo cackling and telling the other he'd done it on purpose. Alrighty then. And so we wowed the two Philly cheesechicks that they were hitting on with our supreme Metness until they turned their attention away from them and onto us. And then we left. (We're cool like that.)

See, until Philly gets a couple of championships under their belts, their mild affairs with success will always be more awkward than Benjamin Braddock with Mrs. Robinson. And just as funny to the viewer.

Anyway, the Mets blew the game, and led us to once again point out their many flaws over the last few beers of the night. If they couldn't win Santana vs. Happ, why would we expect anything from the other match-ups in the series?

And then I went to Cape Cod, didn't see a pitch, and the Mets pulled out two thrilling victories. Such is life. And there's zero complaining from this corner.

Holy Fire

Games 88 through 91 – Red Sox

Red Sox 7, Yankees 0
Red Sox 6, Yankees 4
Yankees 2, Red Sox 1
Yankees 5, Red Sox 4
Record: 52-39

The movable object combined with the stoppable force this weekend to present Exhibits A and B in the People’s Case Against the Boston Red Sox 2008 Postseason Chances.

Last night, the soft, ticklish underbelly of the Boston pitching staff required a mere 2 batters to completely unwind (yet another) very solid effort by Tim Wakefield, as Javier Lopez allowed a single to Jorge Posada and a roped triple to Robinson Cano to turn a 4-2 game into a deadlocked affair. Then, after the Sox failed to scratch in the 9th and 10th innings, the bullpen’s rank contagion reached Jonathan Papelbon, who allowed a 2-out, 2-strike game-winning single to the immortal Brett Gardner. The Boston Pops 4th of July fireworks display has nothing on the Sox bullpen for sheer incendiary power.

Saturday afternoon’s defeat was perhaps even more galling, while every bit as revealing of the Sox’ weaknesses. After failing to dent the Yankee pitching staff through 8 innings, the Sox whipsawed the great Mariano Rivera to the tune of 2 hits, a walk, and a hit batsman to open the bottom of the 9th. When the dust settled, Boston had the bases loaded, nobody out, and the tying run a mere 90 feet from home. And the bottom of the order lined up to face Rivera.

K, popup, K – a near palindrome, a bad breakfast menu, and the so, so predictable result of Coco Crisp, Jason Varitek, and Julio Lugo batting with the game on the line. Varitek’s 15 for his last 114 (!), a slump so bad that even a nighttime romp with Divine may not be enough to escape it. Lugo’s .153 average with runners in scoring position is the single worst such mark in the American League. Coco, well, he just picked a bad time to be lumped in with the other two – and his ineffectual wave at Rivera’s final pitch was nothing so much as a white flag.

And now these abide: faith, love and hope. And of these three…wait, wrong book. These actually abide: the bullpen and the bottom of the batting order, and of these two – cripes, of these two are seasons wrecked.

Say what you will about the Sox, they’re at least an entertainingly inept bunch at the moment. (Inept is perhaps too strong a word, but measured, sane discourse isn’t our strong suit.) Last night’s loss marks the Sox’ 14th consecutive loss in 1-run road contests. In their recent 3-7 skid, they’ve dropped 6 games by a single run. The clinical sabremetricians in the audience will tell us that 1-run games are effectively a function of luck, and that such things generally return to the mean over time. The aggrieved Chicken Littles in our midst beg to differ, pointing to the 6-headed firestarter in the bullpen as the chief culprit.

Meanwhile, Tampa is 5 games out in front, and despite the fact that we have a lotta ball left^TM, without a functional bullpen and at least a mediocre 7-9 in the batting order, those 5 games might as well be 15. In Theo We Trust, then, ‘cause the other options don’t seem all that appealing.

Charmed

Game 85 - Mets

Mets 11, Cardinals 1
Record: 42-43

TWIB Notes: Mike Pelfrey threw another brilliant game tonight . . . Cardinals pitcher Mitchell Boggs did not (6 IP, 10 H, 11 R, 6 BB, 2 K, 1 HR) . . . Jose Reyes hit his 62nd career triple tonight, a three-run one no less. It tied him with the venerable Mookie Wilson for all-time triples by a Met. He could also catch the Mookster in stolen bases this year . . . That's probably the only other such milestone for the Mets this year, though it would be nice if David Wright could hit 11 more taters and displace Todd Hundley in the all-time Mets Top 5 HR list. Such an eyesore . . . Ryan "Under the Milky Way" Church continues to get it done and be one of the reasons we're still paying close attention . . . same goes for Endy . . . somebody get me a #10 Mets t-shirt . . . Dee-Dub tweaked his back ducking under a scorching line drive while leading off first. . . fingers crossed . . . Luis Castillo went on the DL today. The sun rose in the east today, too . . . Chris "Two Shots At" Aguila came up from New Orleans. He was joined by Argenis Reyes, to whom I say "That's gonna cause a little confusion. Mind if we call you Bruce to keep it clear?" Howls of derisive laughter . . .

. . . Significantly, the Mets take on the Phillies of Philthadelphia tomorrow evening at 7:00 pm. More significantly, it's the fourth of July (so says John Doe) and Johan Santana takes the hill in the first contest of a key four-game series. Most significantly, my brother-in-law and I will be there. Can't wait to immerse myself in the Philly fan warmth.

Hey, I remember you. Where have you been? Bathroom.

Games 77 - 85: Yankees

Pirates 12, Yankees 5
Yankees 10, Pirates 0
Mets 15, Yankees 6
Yankees 9, Mets 0
Yankees 3, Mets 2
Mets 3, Yankees 1
Rangers 2, Yankees 1
Rangers 3, Yankees 2
Yankees 18, Rangers 7

Record: 45-40

Happy July 4th folks.

I've got rob beat. I could care even less about this Sox/Yanks series.**

Be back in two weeks with useless banter.

God Bless America.

**rob you owe me a case when Jankees win this series.

Golf in the Kingdom

Game 87 - Red Sox

Rays 7, Red Sox 6
Record: 50-37

I was full of spit and vinegar last night after the Sox' bullpen gacked away yet another game. Then, the Lord of Perspective took me to the golf course this morning, ordered me a dazzling blue sky and a handful of Guinness, and my righteous anger at the Sox during their worst stretch of the season was dulled to the point where all I can muster is a rueful:

Motherfucker.

I can't remember being less excited for a Yankees' series.

Lost

Game 84 - Mets

Cardinals 8, Mets 7
Record: 41-43

Live and learn.

The Mets sank into a hole almost immediately last night, thanks to Pedro Martinez's early ineffectiveness. The boys went down a 4-spot in the first when Pedro left a few balls over the plate, including one Troy Glaus hammered for a 3-run job. Those pitches weren't the only thing being described as "over" in the Mets Township chatter. Pedro, we hardly knew ye.

I cracked open a bottle of Pabst Blue Ribbon to spur on the visiting Metmen, and unsurprisingly, it worked. The Mets tallied three runs in the 3rd (bench Damion Easley at your own peril, Jerry Manuel), and then the skies opened up. I redoubled my efforts on the drinking and waited out what was a fairly brief rain delay.

Pedro actually came out sharper after the hiatus. Reason for hope, quickly dashed when Rick Ankiel launched a bomb to right. As an aside, I love the Rick Ankiel story -- his is one our alter egos at Gheorghe would mightily endorse -- but the portal where he becomes the next Pat Burrell to the Mets is where I draw the line on rooting for the opposition. Enough.

In the 7th, however, the Metropolitans did what they've started to do just a tad more lately, put together a little rally and come from behind. A two-run Delgado base-knock off another comeback story, Mark Mulder (This week's ABC AfterSchool Special: the 2008 St. Louis Cardinals), and a sac fly made it 7-5, Mets.

And that was it. My work was done. I was beat from a long day of work and a few beers, and didn't you read how the Met pen was now water-tight? Off to bed, TiVoing the conclusion for this morning's enjoyment.

Ah, yes. This morning's enjoyment. The new breakfast cereal, Kellogg's Punts-to-the-Groin, ushered in the day's events for me. An Aaron Heilman bump and a Pedro Feliciano spike made it 7-7 in the eighth. Of note was Feliciano allowing Chris Duncan to tie the game on the first pitch he threw last night.

Now, let's pause and acknowledge Pedro Feliciano (Est. 2002), the Met with the longest tenure of any on the roster with a montage of old quotes from the pages here at MLC:

• "Feliciano, for his part, pitched just the 8th but handed out singles like it was his bachelor party, allowing four runs to score."
• "By the time Pedro Feliciano 'relieved' (if you will) Wheeler in the seventh . . ."
• "Feliciano came on and did his best 'When in Colorado . . .' rendition. After getting the heart of the lineup out routinely, he issued walks and meatballs to the bottom of the order, and two more came across for the Rockies, making it 6-4. These guys are pitching in key spots but are more suited for mop-up than Hong Kong Phooey. Is this the best the Mets can throw out there?"
• Enter Pedro 'Feliz Navidad' Feliciano, as in 'I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas by tossing you a meatball for you to clear the bases with a double.' Nice relief. It's like taking a Tums and realizing you swallowed a sand burr."
  
• "Feliciano, after delivering all three of his inherited runners safely home, walked a batter and induced a fly-out before getting the hook."
• "Had I not already known this game was in the 14th inning, I couldn't have been more unwavering in my belief that Feliciano would screw it up. One batter faced, one walk. Thanks for playing."
• "Pedreadful Feliciano looked to undo all of the good that TG did in his six-plus frames of work."
• "Then Feliciano hits Prince Fielder and Mota throws a meatball to Bill Hall, who ground-rules Tom Glavine out of his 300th win."
• "When Pedro Feliciano allowed yet another inherited runner to score in the 8th, he not only tarnished John Maine's rock-steady performance, but he allowed the demons to start knocking at the door of our collective psyche. It's the kind of thing to start me drinking. More. And nobody needs that."
• "Pedro Feliciano, Joe Smith, and Scott Schoeneweis (walked into a bar?) surrendered eight runs over the final pair of frames in a scene not seen since the days of Dan Wheeler's Blanket Party Bingo."

Of course, I have extremely selectively chosen to highlight his worst-of moments when there were plenty of workmanlike holds in between, but where's the fun in that? I've just never had all that much confidence in this Pedro.

With the "Pair o' Peters" ultimately responsible for the 7 runs the Cards scored, the bottom of the ninth went another direction. Carlos "Cheese" Muniz recorded two outs and had a 3-2 count before Troy Glaus bookended an otherwise nice Met performance with his second home run. Lovely.

And yet with plenty of blame to go around, I blame myself for going to bed. Shame on me.

Live and learn.

Green Eggs and Ham

Game 86 - Red Sox

Rays 3, Red Sox 1

Record: 50-36

I do not like this team in slump.

I do not like losing in a dump.

I do not like the Rays in first.

I do not like ballpark wurst.

I do not like wasting Wake.

I do not like when Manny doesn't rake.

I do not like men left on base.

I do not like second place.

I do not like popups and whiffs.

I do not like Tek hitting like a stiff.

I do not like offensive woes.

I do not like Lugo's twinkletoes.

I do not like things in the Trop.

I do not like sweeps nor mops.

I do not like these nosiree.

Win tonight, or more rhymes from me.

Entertainment Tonight

Game 83 - Mets

Mets 7, Cardinals 4
Record: 41-42

Last night was a Best of '08 lineup, according to my tastes. There's no accounting for taste, of course, but I thoroughly enjoyed all aspects of what I saw.

Ryan Church was back out there for the Mets -- and hitting lowball doubles again. (Sorry, the joke about my hitting the highball doubles doesn't really fit, as I was throwing back Bud longnecks. I'll work on it.) Endy Chavez was in left -- re-affirming himself as one of my favorite Mets over the last few years. When he gets some playing time, I really feel like he's a Reyes Lite -- less immediate upside, but exciting on both sides of the ball. And Damion Easley was at second, supplanting the increasingly frustrating Luis Castillo.

Ramon Castro behind the dish -- and more significantly at the plate -- kind of made the difference last night. Yeah, Schneider isn't firing balls into centerfield, but he's also not driving the ball to the gap that often, either.

A tandem of Gary and Keith in the booth filled out the evening nicely. No offense, Ronnie. Keith back in St. Louis is always going to entertain for obvious reasons, even when he calls them the "Metsies."

Tony Armas Jr. . . serviceable. And that's all you need when you get this lineup. And by "this lineup," make no mistake, I mean the one with the out-of-nowhere raking Carlos Delgado, the resurgent power stroke David Wright, the water-tight bullpen (including holds by leakers like Heilman and Feliciano), and nearly flawless defense. It remains to be seen how frequently this lineup fills my evening viewing, but I know I'll be tuning in tonight in hopes of a repeat performance.

The Tortoise and the Hare

Game 85 – Red Sox

Devil Rays 5, Red Sox 4
Record: 50-35

Every morning after a Sox game, I scan the blogosphere to take the temperature of the assembled wackadoos and compare it to my own. I hit SoSH, Joy of Sox, Surviving Grady, and one or two others, seeking validation in numbers. Or at least seeking to waste 15-20 minutes.

Most seasons, a middling stretch like the one in which the Sox are currently enmeshed would be cause for great gnashing of teeth and self-flagellation from the faithful. This year, though, the Soxnoscenti are mourning the loss of Hazel Mae, promoting books, quibbling about Jacoby Ellsbury’s slump, and bemoaning Manny’s off-field behavior. In short, doing everything but panicking about the team’s chances.

The team seems to have the same vibe – a laissez faire, let it be backbeat supported by the notion that when the time comes, all they need to do is turn on the jets, concentrate for a few weeks, and they’ll coast into the postseason. That’s a dangerous game, boys and girls, played and lost by better teams than this one.

Monty Python's Flying Circus

Games 78 through 82 - Mets

Mets 15, Yankees 6
Yankees 9, Mets 0
Yankees 3, Mets 2
Mets 3, Yankees 1
Cardinals 7, Mets 1
Record: 40-42


"When the great scorer comes to mark against your name, He writes not that you won or lost, but how you played the game."

-- Grantland Rice

"Crappy. The Mets played crappy. Oh, and they lost."

-- The Great Scorer

So the Mets are now an unspectacular 6-7 since Willie Randolph was ousted and Jerry Manuel took the helm. "Lotta ball left," as my little friend in red socks might say, but there's not much in recent outings to make me look the fool for declaring the managerial change ultimately worthless a few weeks back.

Last night was a perfect storm of ineptitude. John Maine "just didn't have it," as Keith put it, the Metbats were frustratingly quiet, and the glovework . . . yikes. Memo to Luis Castillo: if your OPS remains conspicuously under .700, we really need you not to be making bad errors to let runs score. (Yes, we recycled this memo from "Memo to Doug Mientkiewicz" a few years back.)

Andy Phillips is on the Mets' roster (though supposedly demoted after last night) and Tony Armas Jr. is starting for our boys tonight. Yeah, that sounds about right. The Mets are still just 3.5 games out of first place, even as their Wild Card chances should be buried by the Break. Could be worse. Stay tuned.

Encyclopedia Brittanica

Games 82 through 84 – Red Sox

Red Sox 6, Astros, 1
Astros 11, Red Sox 10
Astros 3, Red Sox 2
Record: 50-34

So the second-place Boston Red Sox limp out of Houston in the wake of a pair of disappointing losses. On the bright side, the entire team contributed to the weekend’s lackluster results, so the finger-pointing will likely be kept to a minimum. Good thing, too, because one of the starters would probably sprain a digit, given the way the first half of the season has played out.

On Saturday, mediocre starting pitching gave way to a dreadful relief effort, as the Sox wasted 4-0 and 9-6 leads – not to mention 10 runs from the offense. Then, yesterday, the batsmen held a middle finger up to their mound-bound mates, leaving 13 runners on base to waste yet another solid performance by Josh Beckett. Though the arms weren’t completely blameless, as the bullpen’s seemingly incurable Okajima epidemic claimed another victim.

Now that the interleague interlude has blissfully ended, the Sox head to Tampa to face their closest rivals in the AL East, bringing with them a midseason report card for Mr. Francona to sign that’s largely positive, even as it describes at least one area where improvement is a must.

On offense, the Sox rate a solid B+, especially given David Ortiz’ lengthy absence. Their .806 OPS is a mere .001 behind the Rangers’ for the league’s top spot, and 424 runs (5.05/game) a clear second. J.D. Drew has been a revelation, raking at a nearly 1.000 OPS clip, hitting 15 HR (more than all of 2007) and almost, almost, making Papi’s hiatus bearable. Kevin Youkilis turned in another terrific first half, posting a .926 OPS with 13 HR. Mike Lowell is Mike Lowell, another in a reasonably long line of dependable, professional Red Sox third basemen. Jacoby Ellsbury has slumped after a quick start, and could probably use a few days off, but he’s on pace to break the league’s all-time rookie steals record. Dustin Pedroia’s red-hot June lifted him out of an early-season funk. Even Coco Crisp hasn’t been completely useless, his .747 OPS almost exactly the same as Ellsbury’s. And while he’s only 3rd on the team on OPS, Manny’s almost been Manny, except when he’s been beating up traveling secretaries, which is as annoying as it is out of character.

Only Julio Lugo (.708 OPS) and Jason Varitek (.688) take up the negative side of the ledger, struggling being a kind description of their performance to date.

The bench has been decent, too, with Sean Casey meeting expectations, Alex Cora providing needed defensive depth and the occasional single, Brandon Moss overcoming emergency surgery to deliver several key hits, Jed Lowrie looking the part of a big leaguer in his short stint, and Kevin Cash posting career-high offensive marks (which, admittedly, is not saying anything at all). No real complaints in the depth department.

Like the offense, the starting pitching has done its part, overcoming injuries to all but 2 of the projected rotation to post above-average marks, another B+ from the stern graders at MLC for the league’s second-best starting ERA (3.83). Justin Masterson’s been a godsend, even as I continue to hold my breath every time he takes the hill, putting up a 3.43 ERA and 1.19 WHIP in 7 starts. Daisuke Matsuzaka started out like a house afire before getting hurt and probably coming back too fast. He’s still 9-1 with a 3.21 ERA (despite a scary 1.39 WHIP). Jon Lester threw a no-hitter for chrissakes. Josh Beckett’s been brutally unlucky, both in terms of run support and bullpen backing, but I’d still rather have him take charge than anyone else in the league in a land war in Asia. Tim Wakefield, like his similarly gray-haired colleague Lowell, is Tim Wakefield, quietly and effectively doing his job to the tune of a 3.88 ERA in 100+ innings. Even Bartolo Colon tossed quality innings before straining his fat swinging and missing during interleague play – if nothing else, the Sox should feel good that his arm is back in big league shape.

Only Clay Buchholz could be classified as disappointing, and the sample size is probably too small to make that claim stick. With a little luck, the Sox will have 7 decent to very good starters down the stretch – a luxury that may enable them to solve their biggest problem…

…that being the bullpen, which despite its seemingly adequate 3.89 ERA (good for 9th in the AL), keeps coming up small when it counts, allowing a staggering…um…well…I can’t find the actual statistic for inherited runners while here at work, but let me tell you that it’s impossibly high. Why, Hideki Okajima alone is responsible for 137% of the league’s inherited runs scored this season. And worse, the pen’s maddening inconsistency has been a constant hobgoblin. At various times thus far, Manny Delcarmen, Craig Hansen, David Aardsma and Javier Lopez have all been dominant in back of the Sox’ starters. And on an equal number of occasions, the same quartet have vomited upon themselves in spectacular and team-crippling fashion. Only Jonathan Papelbon’s quiet, understated elegance lifts the bullpen’s grade to a Whitney-friendly D.

As Uncle Ben famously remarked, with great power comes great responsibility. The corollary for the 2008 Boston Red Sox is, to whom much is given, much is expected. In a vacuum, a 96-win pace is more than acceptable. But it’s hard to play in a vacuum, what with all the noise and the flying particles. In the real world, the harsher calculus is this: second place isn’t good enough for a team as deep and talented as this one.

Man, am I spoiled.

Little Big Man

Game 81 – Red Sox

Red Sox 5, Diamondbacks 0
Record: 49-32

Since I already assigned Clay Buchholz the ‘Little Girl with a Curl’ moniker, we’ll need a different analogical nickname for Tim Wakefield, who was magnificent last night. While I was out broadening my horizons, Wake tossed 7 innings of 2-hit ball at the Snakes. Meanwhile Brandon Moss and Kevin Cash (!) combined to drive in 5 runs on 1 hit (Cash’s first homer of the season – double !) to give the Sox more than enough offense.

And while we’re on the topic of cartoon characters and unlikely heroes (poetic license), let’s take a moment to marvel at Dustin Pedroia’s recent prowess. Last year, the Nation was up in arms as the Yosemite Sam act-alike started the season miserably on his way to the AL Rookie of the Year trophy. In 2008, the grumblings reached their apex after the kid’s 1-for-4 against the Reds on June 13 left his season line at .260/.311/.365, his .677 OPS hovering dangerously near Lugo territory. His verbal response: “When I get hot, I get really fucking hot.” His on-field response in the 11 games since: 22-for-48, 5 2B, 3 HR, good for a .458/.480/.771. So, okay, we get it.

The Sox have an off day today, so I’ll save my pithy first half analysis for later. Suffice it to say that I’ll gladly sign for a duplication of the 81-game record and take my chances.