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Two weeks in

Okay, the Red Sox are off to a slow start. That has happened in April many, many times. It’s typically followed by an excellent May.

Opening Night.
It was a great time. I went with my daughter Kara. A surprisingly warm night. The kid from the Herb Brooks “Miracle” speech You Tube video was a real kick.

(forgive the My Bob’s ad)



Pedro milked the first pitch for all it was worth and then some. Live performances by Steven Tyler and Neil Diamond. As far as the annual Fenway upgrades, they actually replaced the 1934 wooden grandstand seats. The new ones have springs. Other than that, they are identical. Same flat wooden slats. Same cramped size. Unbelievable. Larry Lucchino said they did it because the wooden seats – the last ones remaining in the Majors – are part of the tradition. Larry, have you ever spent five hours sitting in one? Think maybe there’s a reason that no one else has them anymore? Of course, cramped as they are, the Red Sox have no problem filling them night after night.

The opener was a nice win over the Yankees. Tuesday and Wednesday we saw the bullpen blow leads.


Off to KC.
While I was doing some pre-season work on the Cape house the Sox were in Kansas City, where they have some crazy little women. They lost on Friday night, making three straight L’s and dropping the Sox to 1 and 3. Two wins over the weekend and it was back to .500.


We head to the Mini-apple.
On Monday the Twins opened their brand new ballpark, Target Field, hosting the Red Sox. Last May Kara and I flew out there for game one the final Red Sox series at the Metrodome. On Wednesday we flew out for game 2 of the first Sox series in the new ballpark. I thought about going to game 1 there, but it was sold out, and the 3PM start would have made flying in and back on the same day a challenge. Furthermore, this was the first game at their beautiful brand new outdoor ballpark after playing at the horrible Metrodome with the crappy fake field and the big blue baggie for a right field fence the for almost 30 years. I didn’t want to be some jerk wearing the wrong jersey and rooting for the visitors at a game that the Twins should get to win.


Kara at Target Field

Game 2 was different. No opening day pressure. It’s a very nice ballpark, right downtown. A decent number of fans were wearing Red Sox stuff, but vastly outnumbered by Twins fans, all of whom were Midwest friendly. One commented that they had been to Fenway once, and they thought the smell was really unique. The concourses are very wide and full of concessions. The friendly folks behind the counters were really slow – as in two innings to get a hot dog a beer. There was no local beer or local cuisine. Maybe there isn’t any.

They didn’t do any of the stupid minor league stuff you see at a lot of new ballparks, like having cheer girls shoot t-shirts into the stands. Okay, they did one bingo game between innings, but it was less intrusive than the ketchup-mustard-pickle race featured in a lot of new parks. They did shoot off fireworks when a Twin homered. When Jason Kubel came up a few fans tried make a “koo“sound like the “Youk” chant you hear everywhere, but it paled in comparison. No waves, of course. You only get that at Fenway. There were no special songs. No Minnesota version of “Dirty Water” or “Deep in the Heart of Texas” or “I Left My Heart in San Francisco” or “New York, New York.” Of course, the Twins lost the game. Maybe they save the song for wins, like the Sox do with “Dirty Water.”

Editor’s note:
I should add that I think it’s incredibly cool that my daughter likes to go on Red Sox road trips with me. We’ve gone to Montreal, New York (3 different ballparks), Chicago, Oakland, Phoenix, San Francisco, Minnesota (2 ballparks) and Baltimore in a couple of weeks. Does it get any better than that?

Back at Fenway.
On Friday night, Kathy and I went and sat, not in Section 29, but in Section 19, Box 42. That’s in front of the walkway, right behind home plate. Fabulous view. Bigger, much more comfortable seats . Padded, with cupholders and leg room. Beer served in the stands. Rob Barry, the peanut vendor with the best arm in the majors, was on beer duty. An older gentleman dried off the seats (it had been raining all day) and we tipped him. I was surprised at how few others did. In about the 4th inning a couple of guys who clearly didn’t belong there showed up to take box seats in the next section. I think they tipped the guy to let them sit there.

Box seat legroom

Jerry Remy’s pen.
We were under the backstop screen, and up on the overhead part of the screen there was a pen. It appeared to be one of those blue and white Bic pens that has four colors of ink: blue, black, red and green. I recall hearing Jerry Remy say that he uses one of those Bic pens to score the game. Blue for most entries, green for a hit, red for an RBI, black for an error. I figured that was Remy’s pen. Jerry must have dropped it during a game and it slid halfway down the backstop screen and got stuck there.

Remy’s pen stuck in the backstop screen

The two-week mark.
So here it is, two weeks after opening night. The Red Sox are 4 and 7 and losing 4-0 to Tampa Bay as I write this. In several of the recent losses the Sox have had three starters hitting well under the Mendoza line. (In case you’re not familiar with that expression, it refers to batting .200. When you go above or below that mark, you’ve crossed the Mendoza line. It refers to Mario Mendoza, a former Pirate and Ranger who actually had a career average of .215 but is saddled with the image of a lifetime .200 hitter). Big Papi, who looks not as big in the shoulders as he was, is batting .171. JD Drew makes him look like the Ortiz of 2003-2007, batting an embarrassing .131 with a team-leading 16 strikeouts.

Run prevention?
That was The Plan for 2010. How do you expect to prevent runs when your new shortstop is tied for the Major League lead in errors. Three in two weeks paces at 39 for the season. Two of those cost the team wins. To put that in perspective, Edgar “Ren-a-wreck” Renteria had 30 for Boston in 2005. Julio Lugo made 19 in 2008, and he only played half the season. The error count is also suspiciously low, as many plays that are scored as “hits” are really errors. What’s more. it doesn’t account for bad throws that Youk is able to dig out of the dirt or bad relay throws that fail to get the runner at first on a routine double-play ball. Scutaro made another bad throw just now as I’m writing this.

The Sox wound up losing 7-0, their fourth straight loss.

But hey, it’s only two weeks, and they typically play well on Patriots’ Day.

Wow, did that go by fast

My daughter Caitlin turns 25 at 11:52PM tonight. Wow, did that go by fast.

She was actually due on Valentine’s Day.
I was the Program Director of WFTQ in Worcester. 14Q. I did a short airshift as well, from 9-11AM. My opening break that day, coming out of the 9AM news, was over the beginning of “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.” Over the 7-second intro I said, “Well, here it is, February 14th, the baby’s due date. And so far, nothing.” I posted the vocal perfectly. Elton opens with, “When are you gonna come down…when are you going to land?” It was probably my best show open ever.

A week and a half later, on Sunday the 24th, there was still no baby. I drove my wife Kathy up and down a bumpy street in Worcester hoping to move things along. At the time I didn’t know that when the doctors give you a due date they’re throwing a dart and guessing.

Four days later.
Kathy was getting up to head in to work for a sales meeting at WAAF where she was an Account Executive. As she walked into the bathroom her water broke. You hear all those stories about the water breaking in the supermarket, but this was very convenient timing. So we grabbed the already-packed suitcase, jumped in the car and headed for Worcester Memorial Hospital.

We checked in around 9AM. Kathy was resting sort of comfortably and I was in a chair next to her reading “Nightmare in Pink” (as noted in my last blog entry).

On it went.
Eleven hours later, around 8PM, they sent me home to nap. I felt like I had just hit the pillow when the phone rang. It was a nurse at the hospital telling me that they’re about to start pushing and I should come back right now. I got back about 8:30. The pushing went on for about an hour and a half. If you want to feel useless, try telling your wife who has been in labor for 14 hours that she should remember her breathing. Hut-hut-HOO. Shut up and tell them to give me another goddamn epidural. Just before midnight, Dr. Pokoly asked if we’d like a February baby or a March baby. Clearly February would be a few minutes earlier.

Eight minutes before midnight,
Dr. Pokoly, with his medium-strong German accent, said, “Vell, it looks like ve haf a girl here.” Indeed we did. Wow. The nurse handed her to me and I carried her around the room pointing things out. This is a clock. It says 11:55. This here is a painting of Monet’s Japanese bridge. This is a window. This is a magazine. Oh, here’s your Mommy. I can’t adequately describe the unbelievable feeling of holding your brand newborn daughter in your arms. It’s a moment that’s etched in my brain like no other.

One of the nurses said, “She looks a little grunty.” You’re calling my daughter grunty? I would have punched the nurse in the nose if my arms weren’t full. We went to the recovery room and the nurse there said, “Oh, it’s a girl! What are you going to name her?’ I responded, “Caitlin.” The nurse said, “Oh, yeah. That’s the big name this year.”

Quick aside about the name.
Before Kathy and I started talking about baby names I had actually never heard of the name Caitlin. Kathy got the name from a book she’d read about Dylan Thomas’s wife. The deal was that if we had a girl, Kathy would name her. If we had a boy, I’d get the honor. Kathy’s first name choice was actually Erin, but her sister Terry had stolen the name a few years earlier despite Kathy having hosied it. If I recall correctly, there was some mashed potato thrown at Thanksgiving dinner over the issue. So Caitlin it was.

As far as I can recall, Caitlin never had a class, played on a team, or had much of any group activity anywhere without at least one other Caitlin. Usually misspelled. Katelyn, or Kaitlin, or Katlyn or some combination of those. She was in a regional swim meet one time and there were six swimmers in her event, three of them from the Wellesley team. All were named Caitlin.

Despite that, you hardly ever see Caitlin stuff for sale in souvenir stores. The pens, key chains, mugs, sticky pads and such never have Caitlin. When she was about three I found a rack of cassettes where the guy sings a customized “Happy Birthday” with your kid’s name and everything. I had to special order a Caitlin version.

On her second night home Caitlin slept through the night. Her first doctor’s appointment was the next day, and the doctor asked how she was doing. We said, great, she slept through the night. He said, “Oh, no, don’t let her do that. You have to wake her up.” Say, what? I don’t think so.

One more name aside.
We lived in Baltimore for three years when I was Program Director of Mix 106.5. We decided to get Social Security cards for the girls (Kara, daughter #2, was born in Baltimore). We needed a birth certificate with a raised seal from the city hall of their birthplace. Baltimore for Kara was easy, but the City of Worcester sent us the wrong birth certificate. Evidently there was another Caitlin Kelley born to a different Don and Kathy Kelley on the same date in Worcester. Kelley was probably misspelled.

Dream Girl.
Caitlin has been an absolute dream. As sweet and easy going as they come. None of the tension that you see with kids on situation comedies. No teenage anger or angst. I coached her in CYO basketball for four years, until the players’ skills eclipsed my coaching skills. In softball, though, it was a different story. I coached her from T-ball in 1st grade all the way through high school Varsity where she played an excellent third base and was in the MIAA State Tournament for three straight years.

She went to Providence College and graduated with the highest GPA in her major. Got a job immediately after graduation at a non-profit in New York. Got an apartment in Manhattan with a friend she’s known since nursery school.

When she got to New York Caitlin started playing in a co-ed dodge ball league and a guy on the team noticed that she has a much better arm than most of girls. He asked her if she’d like to fill in on his co-ed softball team the next night. They had enough boys but were short one girl. Sure, she’ll play. They put Caitlin at second base, probably hoping that no one would hit the ball to her, but they did hit it to her. She actually turned two 6-4-3 double-plays (that’s where the second baseman takes the throw from the shortstop, steps on second, does a pivot and makes the relay throw to first). That opened some eyes. Say, would you like to be a regular on the team? Yes, she would. That lead to her new job in the Viacom Building in Times Square doing Digital Analytics for Nickelodeon’s numerous web sites.

It was also at dodge ball where she met her boyfriend, a great guy who is from New York but thankfully is not a Yankee fan. Last April he took her to the very first game at Citi Field in Queens, the new home of the Mets. That first game, an exhibition at the end of spring training, was between the Red Sox and Mets. Clearly this guy gets it.

So here we are, 25 years later.
Caitlin is now in The Demo (25-54, the age group that all marketers covet) so her opinion officially counts. Wow, that was fast. Caitlin, you are and always have been a true delight. Happy 25th.

I picked up the phone and called Quirk

That was the last line of the last Spenser book. I just finished it last night. I’d been saving the last few chapters for a couple of weeks since Robert B. Parker died on January 18th.

The first Spenser book I read was in 1981. Looking for Rachel Wallace. My brother Peter recommended it to me. It was the third in the Spenser series. I liked it enough to go back and read the first two, The Godwulf Manuscript and God Save the Child. Moving forward, I read every one since then. And all the Jesse Stone ones, and the Sunny Randall ones. And a few that had none of the well-known characters, such as Wilderness, Love and Glory, and Poodle Springs, the unfinished Raymond Chandler book that Parker completed.

My daughter Caitlin was born in 1985. I had read about five Spenser books by then and was also working on the entire Travis McGee series by John D. McDonald. All the McDonald books had a color in the title: The Deep Blue Goodbye, A Tan and Sandy Silence, The Dreadful Lemon Sky, etc. The one I was reading in the hospital while I waited all day for Caitlin to be born was Nightmare in Pink. I knew it would be girl.

But back to Parker. Kathy and I decided that a kid should have a dog, so we got a full-grown Old English Sheepdog from a shelter in Holden, MA. Named him Spenser, spelled like the detective, which was spelled like the English poet.

Caitlin’s first word was “Spenser.” Okay, it was more like “Spa-spa,” but she wasn’t saying “Daddy.” She was talking about the dog.

Every year since 1981 I’ve had a Spenser book to read on the beach. Usually at Smuggler’s Beach on Cape Cod. I learned a number of things from Spenser books. In one, he’s sitting in his office on Kneeland Street (this was the first of three offices he had). It’s nighttime, the window is open, and he hears a car with a trick horn blowing “shave and a haircut…two bits.” I had never known the name for dum-dum-da-DUM-dum…dum-DUM . Now I did. In another book he’s up in the Catskills trying to rescue Susan and somebody says, “Yippie cayocayay!” It’s the only time I’ve seen it written out. When I was a kid my father used to say, “Up and Adam” to get us boys up. At least that’s what I thought he was saying. Many years later, while reading a Spenser book, I came across this line: “It was 5 o’clock and I was already up and at ’em, but the ’em I was up and at were still asleep.” Up and at them. Now I get it.

The books weren’t perfect. A reviewer once recommended that Parker give us “more Hawk, less Susan.” I agree. He spent way too much time drooling over how wonderful Susan is. In the last ten years or so, after he and Susan got back together, she gets a PhD in Psychology at Harvard. From then on, Spenser mentions that Susan has a Harvard PhD several times in every book. Impressive, yes, but alright already. He referred to having sex as “bopping” too frequently. I found this annoying when multiple people in the same book would use the expression. He relied heavily on the same police contacts, as though the Boston Police Department consisted of only two guys that he knew, Quirk and Belson. He has Hawk doing the fake black dialect thing too much. He adopted a kid in an early book, Paul Giacomin. Paul comes up a few times in subsequent books, but it’s pretty sparse. He spends too much time fawning over Pearl the Wonder Dog (they actually go through two Pearls). Pearl is fed food right from the table and gets to crawl into bed with them. A few plots were preposterous, like the one where he goes to Arizona to save a small town from outlaws by shooting them all.

But they’re fun reads. Short chapters. Good beach reads, good airplane reads. Good characters. Hawk, Vinnie Morris, Tony Marcus, Junior and Ty Bop, Chollo, Henry Cimoli, State Police Homicide Commander Healy, Martin Quirk, Frank Belson. He ate at real restaurants and named them. Lockober’s, The Bristol Lounge, Rocco, The Ritz Bar, Blue Ginger. He knew that a Browning was a good piece to hide in the small of your back but was also effective. He knew how to cook. He knew how to box. He ran along the Comm Ave mall. He enjoyed beer, like Amstel or Black and Tan. He liked Scotch, especially Dewar’s. Also Maker’s Mark. He liked Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. And their cinammon donuts. He named real towns, unless something bad was happening there. He referred to my hometown of Wellesley as Pemberton. Lowell was Proctor. Portsmouth, NH was Port City. Lynnfield was Smithfield. Tufts University was Taft. BC might also have been Taft.
He’s funny and self-effacing. “I decided to use my warm but convincing smile on her. I didn’t work. That surprised me, because my warm but convincing smile almost always works.”

He was a Red Sox fan. He has a 2004 World Series Champion cap. In one book Spenser is wearing a Utica Blue Sox cap as a disguise. Parker himself was old enough to remember the Boston Braves. On the back of several books he’s wearing a Boston Braves cap while Pearl strains against the leash. (In case you don’t know, the Braves are a National League team that played in Boston from 1871-1953, when they got sick of being outdrawn by the Red Sox and decided to blow town and head to Milwaukee. 13 years later they moved again, this time to Atlanta where they still play.)

So now I have no more Spenser books to read. There is one more Jesse Stone novel. He’s the Police Chief of Paradise, Massachusetts, which is remarkably like Marblehead. I’ll read it when it’s released. But I’ll miss Spenser.

There’s no Dick


It’s Wednesday night.
I was wearing my Phillies warmup jacket and watching Game 6 of the 2009 World Series, but when it got to be 7-1 Yankees I gave up. I have no need to watch the Yankees jump all over themselves at the end of the game. Seen it too many times before. I think of those poor folks in Milwaukee. When I went to a game at Miller Park in 2006 people talked about how the Brew Crew had been there in 1982. But lost. Their one trip to the Fall Classic. How about the Cleveland Indians fans? “Remember when we won it in 1948?”

So I flipped to CSI
They had an autopsy scene that grossed my wife out, so I hit the off button on the clicka. Then I decided, for no particular reason, to look up Dick in Baseball Almanac.

Actually, there was a reason.
I rarely do anything for no reason. Here’s this one. On many occasions I have used a joke I stole from an old Dick Van Dyke Show. Dick, who played Rob on the show, and his wife Laura, played by Mary Tyler Moore, have a son named Robby. Robby wants to know why his middle name is Rosebud. It’s goofy. They flash back to the day the name decision was made. It has nothing to do with the sled in “Citizen Kane.” All the relatives are there, each with his or her own idea of the perfect moniker. One says it should be Robert, after the Dad. Another wants Oscar. Aunt Somebody pitches for Sam. Uncle Somebody likes Edward – a strong name. He keeps spelling it out. E-D-W-A-R-D. Other offerings are Benjamin, Ulysses and David. They finally decide to name the kid Robby, but for a middle name they take the first letter of each suggestion and come up with Rosebud.

So where’s the joke?
When the Sam suggestion is voiced, Uncle Somebody says, “That’s no good. Every Tom, Dick and Harry is named Sam.” (My friend Mike Kinosian, Special Fetaures editor for Inside Radio, tipped me off that Samuel Goldwyn came up with the line.) I thought it was funny, and as I mentioned above, I have used the line over the years on every possible occasion.

But who is actually named Dick these days?
In Baseball Almanac there are lots of Dicks. Dick Radatz, Dick Trazewski, Dick Drago, Dick Stuart, Dick Schofield, Dick Groat, Dick Tidwell, Dick Bartell, Dick Bertel, Dick Pole, Dick Allen, Dick Howser, Dick McAuliffe, Dick Gernert, and many more. But today? I looked at the 40-man rosters of all 30 teams. That’s 1200 players. There’s a guy named Don Kelly who spells his name wrong. There’s one guy named Tom. Another guy is named Jhonny (was that intentional, or a typo on the birth certificate?). There are lots of Justins. There’s Jason and Jayson. There’s John and Jon, Jered and Jarrod, Clay and Cla, Curt and Kurt, Eric and Erik, Sean, Shawn and Chone, Trevor and Trever, Vladimir and Wladimir, Zach and Zack. There’s Asdrubel, Anibal, Esmerling, Huston, Jai, Jhulys, Ubaldo, Yadier, Yashuhiko, Yonder, Yorman, Yordany, Yorvani, Yorvit, Yuniesky and Yusmeiro. But there isn’t even one major league player named Dick. Or, for that matter, Harry.

Who am I rooting for?

Following the “Papelbomb” on Sunday…
A buddy asked me who I’m rooting for now. “Obviously you wanted the Red Sox to win the World Series, but now who are you voting for?”

Of course I would like the Red Sox to win the World Series, but that’s actually not my first choice.

My first choice is….

…NOT THE YANKEES.

Why the grudge?
From the time I was three weeks old until I was a Freshman in college there was a New York team (or former New York team) in the World Series every single year. That’s 18 seasons. 1949, Yankees and Dodgers. 1950, Yankees and Phillies. 1951, Yankees and Giants. 1952, Yankees and Dodgers. 1953, Yankees and Dodgers. 1954, Giants and Indians. 1955, Yankees and Dodgers. 1956, Yankees and Dodgers. 1957, Yankees and Braves. 1958, Yankees and Braves. (There was a reason they had a book called, “The Year the Yankees Lost the Pennant” and a Broadway play and movie called, “Damn Yankees.”) 1959, LA Dodgers and White Sox. 1960, Yankees and Pirates. 1961, Yankees and Reds. 1962, Yankees and SF Giants. 1963, Yankees and Dodgers. 1964, Yankees and Cardinals. 1965, Dodgers and Twins. 1966, Dodgers and Orioles.

Ball game over. Thuuuh…Yyyaaankeeees….lloooose!!
1966 was the final year of the streak. That was the year that the Yankees finished in…..(drum roll, please)….last place. In those 18 seasons a New York team (present or former) won the World Series 14 times. Half of those 18 were Yankees wins. Can you imagine the thrill when 1967 happened? Not only were there no Yankees or other former New York team involved, but the Red Sox actually got there…facing St. Louis.

So,my choices for 2009 are, in order…
1. The Yankees don’t make it to the World Series.
2. They get there, but get swept. Hey, it happened in 1963 and again in 1976.
3. They get there, but lose.
4. Someone else – anyone but the Yankees – wins.

The Phillies are my first choice.
Philly has a really nice ballpark, and the city has a lot of-lot of character. They boo Santa and cheer bad landings at the airport. The Phils are the defending champions. Only five teams other than the Yankees have won back-to-back championships: The Blue Jays (92 and 93), the Reds (75 and 76), the A’s (72,73,74), the Red Sox (15 and 16) and, believe it or not, the Cubs (1907 and 1908). The Phillies won game 1 against the Red Sox in 1915, then proceeded to go 65 years before winning another postseason game. Also, I have a Phillies jacket that I got when working in Philly in 2004. One more thing: before moving to Philadelphia in 1882, the team played in Worcester. That’s where my daughter Caitlin was born. They were the Worcester Ruby Legs.

Go Phils

Don Kelley almost wins it

Where is the game?

I’m watching the Tigers-Twins playoff game on my computer. If it’s on TV I can’t find it. In the 11th inning Detroit puts in a pinch runner named….Don Kelley. Okay, he spells it Kelly. But I can pretend. Don Kelley winds up scoring the go-ahead run in the 10th. The Twins, however, answer in the bottom of the 10th, then Don Kelley winds up on 3rd in the 11th, bases loaded, full count. A ball four to Rayburn would force in the go-ahead run for Detroit in the person of Don Kelley. Except if Rayburn swings at ball four and misses. Which he does. So it’s on to the 12th, where the Twins just won it.

Who was I rooting for?

Whoever would have the better chance of beating the Yankees, of course. The Twins faced the Yankees only 7 times this year in the regular season, going 0 for 7. That’s right, uh-huh. 0 for 4 at Yankee Stadium, 0 for 2 in the don’t-knock-it-down-quite-yet Metrodome.

Twins in the playoffs

Well, the Angels usually beat the Red Sox in the regular season season series, but always lose in the playoffs (12 of the last 13 games, and all four postseason series). Maybe the Twins fortune will change over the next few days. This is Minnesota’s fifth time in the playoffs this decade. Their track record isn’t great – they lost in the second round to Anaheim in 2002, lost in the first round to New York in 2003 and 2004, and lost in the first round to Oakland in 2006.

I have my fingers and eyes crossed.

They jinxed it

The other night I was watching the Red Sox on NESN and simultaneously checking in on the Yankees game on mlb.com. Great picture, by the way. Andy Pettitte has gotten into the 7th inning with a perfect game. Two outs. On YES, the Yankee network, they go to a clip of David Wells being picked up and carried off the field (no easy task with Boomer) when he had a perfect game. Don’t they know that’s a guaranteed jinx? You don’t mention it until it has actually happened. So what did happen? The very next batter hits a grounder to Jerry Hairston, Jr. at 3rd and he boots it. There goes the perfect game. The next batter hits a clean single to left, and the no-hitter bid is history. The final score was 5-1, Yankees, so it wasn’t even a shutout.

Andy wasn’t particularly gracious about it, as you can see from the photo.


In contrast, let’s look at June 7, 2007. I was in Oakland with my daughter Kara. Curt Schilling was on the mound for the Red Sox for an afternoon game. The A’s had won three straight from the Red Sox, and Curt was intent on being a stopper. In the top of the first David Ortiz homered, and that was the only scoring of the game. Kara and I were, as usual, scoring the game, and Schilling was putting up nothing but zeros. We noted it with a gesture of the pencil, but said nothing. In the 7th inning, with a perfect game going, there was a room-service grounder to Julio Lugo at short, and Lugo booted it. There went Schill’s perfect game. In typical Schilling fashion, he just soldiered on. It went to the bottom of the 9th. Two outs, no-hitter still intact. Varitek puts down a sign and Curt shakes him off. On the next pitch Stewart singles to right and ruins the no-hit bid. The next guy is retired and the Red Sox win, 1-0. A complete-game one-hit shutout for Curt Schilling.


Unlike Andy Pettitte, Curt lay no blame anywhere but at his own feet. “With two outs I was sure I had it. I shook off Jason Varitek and now I’ll have to deal with a ‘what-if’ the rest of my life. Obviously I made a mistake when I shook off ‘Tek.” He should have been angry about Lugo’s sloppy error. If Lugo had fielded that grounder, and if everything else happened exactly as it did, Shannon Stewart would not have stepped into the batter’s box in the bottom of the 9th and Schill would have a perfect game.

This was painful…

But necessary, in the interest of thorough research.
I had been to Red Sox-Yankees games at Fenway Park many times, dating back (believe it or not) to when Ted Williams and Mickey Mantle were playing. Seriously. I probably still had diapers on, but I was there. I’ve also been to Red Sox-Yankees games at both the old and the new Yankee Stadium. I had observed how fans of either team behave at both places, but I had never been in the position of looking like a Yankee fan at Fenway.

Size doesn’t matter.
On Sunday night Kara and I went to the final regular season Red Sox-Yankees game at Fenway…wearing – gulp -Yankees caps. I tried five places before I found any. I wound up buying two at the small souvenir shop across the street from the Cask & Flagon. They had a gazillion Sox hats and two Yankee hats down on the bottom shelf. I cleared my throat and told the guy I wanted two Yankees caps, said that adjustable was fine and size didn’t really matter. He handed me the caps and said, “Enjoy the game.” No big deal. We put them on and headed across the crowded street to Gate E. One guy with a Yankee hat gave me thumbs up, and I heard a few guys singing, “Boo Yankees” but only for a moment and not very loudly. I bought a couple of the $2 scorebooks they sell on the sidewalk. The guy said, “Enjoy the game.” The ticket taker booped the bar code on our tickets and said, “Enjoy the game.” Part of the format, evidently. Note: nobody said that to us at Yankee Stadium.
We walked upstairs to the 3rd base pavilion, waited in line and got some food. Then waited in line and got a couple of beers. No one called us out, no one gave us hostile looks. We walked around some more, and then headed to our seats. Nothing. Josh Beckett delivered the first pitch of the game and Derek Jeter hit it into the bullpen. Numerous Yankee fans in the stands jumped up a cheered, and Kara said to me, “We should cheer so we’re actually believable.” I agreed, but told her I couldn’t really do that. Just wearing the hat was giving me a headache and I started seeing floaters in front of my eyes.
On it went. At the end of the 5th, we got up and walked around some more to see if anything happened. We got two more beers and returned to our seats.

That’s when we got outed.
By three different people. Nikki, who sometimes sits in seat #10 (we have 11 and 12) had been told by her boyfriend Jason, a Boston cop, that he’d spotted us wearing enemy headgear. When we got back to the seats Nikki turned and said, “Jason saw you guys walking around and said to me, “I’m sure that’s Don and Kara, but they’re wearing Yankees hats.” A guy in the row behind me tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Okay, I have to ask. I’ve seen you and your daughter here scoring the game at least 29 times and you always have Red Sox hats on. What with the Yankees hats?” At that point the game was official, so we took off our Yankee caps and put on the Red Sox caps that Kara had hidden in her bag. Another guy in the row behind said, “Hey, did you guys change your hats?” I came clean, and told them that I have a blog and I’m doing research to see if Yankee fans at Fenway are treated the same way, better, or worse than Red Sox fans at Yankee Stadium.
The three measures.
Based on the three measures I use…1) how you treat visitors when they are guests in your house, 2) how you act when you’re a guest in someone else’s house, 3) how you act in general when the subject of the rivalry comes up at a party or dinner or something like that.

Extra, extra! Yankee fans are rude.
Yankee fans are noticeably more rude to visitors than Red Sox fans. Not a surprise, really. As “Yankee fans” at Fenway we endured no abuse whatsoever. It was like, okay there’s a Yankee fan, but I don’t care.
It’s a different experience as Red Sox fans at Yankee Stadium.
Two years age the guys behind us were so bad we almost left, but they got thrown out. Not for for the disgusting stuff they were yelling, but for sneaking beers into the alcohol-free bleachers. This year we were in field level seats by the right field foul pole. Much more expensive, and presumably drawing a better class of clientele. These are big, comfortable padded seats. You get waitress service. You can order a Ketel One with lime. But you’re still surrounded by Yankee fans. On the way in the security guy tried to take my camera away. New Yankee Stadium was the 35th major league ballpark where I’ve seen a game, and I’ve never had a camera problem before. Another Red Sox fan saw me and said, “Just go to a different gate.”‘ I did, and it worked. Inside a guy said to me, “Hey, pal…Baws-tin ain’t playin‘ here ta-night..they’re over at Citi Field.” Yuck, yuck. At the seats someone said, “Hey we got some chowda-heads.” One guy passing Kara in the concourse said, “Why don’t you just kill yourself?” It wasn’t just us, of course. Several Red Sox fans scattered throughout the stadium were subjected to various degrees of razzing.
Who really sucks?
The “Yankees suck” chants at Fenway are fewer and farther between than in years past, but they’re still there – usually when the Yankees score. At Yankee Stadium they chant “Boston sucks”…but their chants aren’t as well orchestrated. More importantly, we chant about their team. They chant about our city. It’s never “Red Sox suck,” it’s “Boston sucks.” Outside the parks the t-shirts follow that pattern. In Boston you can get t-shirts saying funny but rude things about Jeter or A Rod. In New York the t-shirts just say “Buck Foston.”

Yankee fans are more likely to be loud and obnoxious.
Too many of them wear loud, garish Yankee gear. When a Yankee player does something at Fenway you can count on a bunch of Yankee fans jumping up and making a big deal out of it. “CC…way to throw a strike!” or “Hip hip Hor-HAY” or “The Melk-man dee–livvers.” This is more than cheering, it’s loud. They stand up to do it, and stay standing way too long, blocking your view. It’s probably intentional. Shut up and sit down.

Red Sox fans are more likely to behave.
On the other hand, Red Sox fans at Yankee Stadium are more likely to wear a simple blue cap with a red B. Maybe a Mike Lowell shirt. They’ll sit there and enjoy the game quietly. Of course, this might well be caused by fear of getting their ass kicked.

At a party.
Yankee fans love to talk about The Babe, Bucky Dent, Bill Buckner and Aaron Boone. They love to flaunt their 26 World Championships and laugh about how we waited 86 years. Do they have a decent response if you point out that 18 of those 26 happened over 50 years ago? That 22 of those 26 were over 30 years ago? That the last three Yankee wins happened in the steroid era? No, they don’t.

Ah, yes…the steroid era.
During the game in New York, one week after the news about David Ortiz broke, he got the expected hoots, although nothing worse than A Rod, Damon or Gary Sheffield have gotten at Fenway. One guy kept calling him “Big Popup.” Of course, Ortiz did nothing to shut the guy up, popping up three times. He also grounded out and hit into an inning-ending double-play.

Here’s what got me. When Ortiz would come up they’d hold up signs that said 1918, 2004*, 2007*. Really? You want to talk asterisks? Let’s look at the last ten years…1998 through 2008, including the last two times the Yankees won the World Series and the two most recent Red Sox wins. On the Red Sox side of the ledger you’ve got Papi and Manny on the list. What about Yankees during that period? Got your pen ready? There’s Ricky Bones, Rondell White, Jason Grimsley, Chuck Knoblauch, David Justice, Jose Canseco, Glenallen Hill, Jim Leyritz, Randy Velarde, Denny Neagle, Mike Stanton, Kevin Brown, Aaron Boone, Matt Lawton, Ron Villone, Gary Sheffield, Jason Giambi, Andy Pettitte, Roger Clemens and A Rod. That’s 20-2, bad guys.

Conclusion.
Yankee fans are worse. Your witness.

Who is worse?

Yankee fans or Red Sox fans?
The Red Sox-Yankees matchups this year have been truly bizarre. The Sox won the first eight, sweeping the Yankees twice at Fenway and once in the Bronx. Then came the August bashing in New York, where the Yankees took four straight.

Think about for a second. A game at Fenway where New York was leading 6-0 and Boston winds up winning, 16-11. Another where the Yankees are leading with two outs in the 9th and Jason Bay ties it with a homer, then Youk hits a walkoff in the 11th. In New York two aces faced each other and gave up no runs. The game got to the 15th inning tied at 0-0. A couple of weeks later the Yankees pound the Red Sox, 20-11 at Fenway, only to get a return pounding the next day by the Red Sox, 14-1.

So which team has the worst fans? Meaning most obnoxious. Almost anyone in Boston will say that Yankee fans are more obnoxious. Any Yankee fan you may know will argue that Boston fans are much worse.

So where does the truth lie? I use three measures to determine the OF (obnoxious factor) of fans of either team. 1) How do you behave when you’re a visitor in the other team’s ballaprk? 2) How do you treat fans of the other team when they visit your ballpark? 3) How generally obnoxious are you when there’s a discussion – wherever it may be…party, bar, whatever – of your team versus the other one?

A couple of weeks ago I went to the new Yankee Stadium with my two daughters. When I got back to work and discussed it, I said it was a really nice ballpark – and it is. Too bad it’s full of obnoxious Yankee fans. One co-worker, a Yankee fan, said that Boston fans were much worse, and I wouldn’t know because I’ve never seen what it’s like to be a Yankee fan at Fenway. True, sort of. I’ve witnessed Yankee fans at Fenway many times, but to really get it I figure I have to walk the walk at least once.

Walk a mile in my hat.
Tomorrow, August 23rd, is the final regular season meeting at Fenway of the two teams. So far The Red Sox lead the season series, 9-5. The Sox are 7 and 1 at home, the Yankees are 4 and 2 at home. I’m going to the game with my daughter Kara, and we’re going to wear Yankees hats. Let’s see how we’re treated compared to the way we were treated wearing Red Sox hats at Yankee Stadium. That’s apples-to-apples.

I’ll report either tomorrow night or Monday, depending on how late the game goes.

Department of Corrections Department

It was a fun night at the old ballyard last night.
My daughter Caitlin and I drove up from the Cape and were in our seats for the first pitch. There was no scoring on either side until the bottom of the 8th, when Dustin Pedroia doubled in recent call-up Aaron Bates, who notched his first run in the majors. Click on the picture and you can see the view from Section 29 of the ball coming off of Pedroia’s bat. The game lasted less than 2-1/2 hours, and Tim Wakefield wasn’t pitching. It was John Lester, who no-hit these same Royals in May of last year. This time he threw 8 shutout innings.

Now the correction portion of our program.
When I wrote about the Red Sox blowing a huge lead (10-1) and losing to the Orioles, 11-10 a couple of weeks ago, I said that the last time they had blown a 10-run lead was in 1989 against the Blue Jays. My brother Hugh pointed out that the blown lead against the Orioles was 9 runs, not 10. Point taken. He also noted that he and I watched the Red Sox blow a 10-run lead just last year. That’s true.

It was a hot August night.
The 12th, to be exact. Texas in town. Knuckleballer Charlie Zink was called up from Pawtucket for his 1st major league start. Boston jumped out to a 10-0 lead in the 1st. 5 of the 10 runs came on two Big Papi homers in the same inning. It was 12-2 after four, and looking like both a laugher and a quality start for Zink. It turned out to be neither. In the 5th the Rangers put up an 8 on the left-field scoreboard. Youk hit a 2-run homer in the bottom of the 5th, but Texas came back with 5 more in the 6th, making it 15-14. The 10-run lead of just 2 innings ago was now history.

Each team added a run in the 7th. Right after “Sweet CarolIne” played the Red Sox scored 4 times…3 coming on Youk’s second homer of the game. Papelbon gave up a run in the 9th, but got the save as Boston won, 19-17.

They won, so it doesn’t count.
I didn’t include this game in the earlier post because they won it. In the 1989 Blue Jays game and 2009 Orioles game they lost. Or maybe I forgot.