Hip check: Lowell is bounced

Forget about Manny Being Manny. That act is playing to rave reviews in La-La Land.

The Red Sox would be content just to have Mike Being Mike.

Mike Lowell is here, but he isn't here. There is a physical being wearing that No. 25, but in no way is that guy the real Mike Lowell, the classy third baseman who makes every play in the field and knocks in big runs. He has been replaced by a beaten-down imposter, and now even that guy has disappeared because yesterday Terry Francona confirmed the obvious by replacing him on the roster with utilityman Gil Velazquez, a move that renders Lowell ineligible for the American League Championship Series, which begins Friday against the Rays in St. Petersburg, Fla.

Kevin Youkilis was shifted over to third base for Game 4. Mark Kotsay was moved to first. And it may be a while before we see someone wearing No. 25 in a Red Sox lineup.

"He's hurting today," Francona declared before before last night's clinching 3-2 win. "We knew he was Sunday night. When the game was over, he was very sore. He showed up today, very sore."

The problem is a torn labrum in the area of Mike Lowell's right hip. That would be an issue if the most strenuous activity on your daily itinerary were going out to fetch the morning newspaper (some of you may actually be reading one right now). It's a definite hindrance if you're trying to hit 95-mile-an-hour fastballs, jughandle curves, diabolical sliders, and assorted other moving spheroids.

It's a further hindrance if you're trying to field scorched baseballs, whether right at you or to either side, or if it's necessary to sprint in for a bunt or slow roller, bend down on the move, pick up the ball, and make an accurate throw, your momentum very possibly having you land on your side.

If Mike Lowell were anything less than the consummate professional he is, there is very little chance the skipper would have risked putting him out there in the first place. But a guy like Mike Lowell gets the benefit of the doubt. Or, at least, he has up till now.

"When you do what we do for a living," mused Francona, "and you have a guy that's willing to try, it's hard not to give him every opportunity possible."

The manager is neither stupid nor fiendish. He had Mike Lowell out there Sunday night hoping he might hit a mistake pitch from Joe Saunders off or even over The Wall, all the while praying that baseballs would be hit somewhere other than third base when the Red Sox were in the field.

The first piece of evidence that perhaps Lowell didn't belong out there came with two away in the Angels second, when Howie Kendrick hit a routine grounder to third and Lowell bounced a throw that was nicely dug out by Youkilis. He caught a break in the seventh when a two-out, two-on chopper off the bat of Erick Aybar only called for him to trot over to third for an inning-ending force. And he caught a further break in the 10th when Kendrick's lame attempt at beating out a bunt in his direction came to Lowell on one hop, requiring a very short throw over to first.

Could a healthy Lowell have gotten to the ball Mark Teixeira hit to his left in the eighth for a single, or perhaps to a Torii Hunter shot down the line in the ninth? Maybe, maybe not. In sum, the Red Sox were lucky he wasn't tested more.

He was 0 for 4 at the plate, with few good swings. But Frankie Rodriguez was sufficiently wary of him to issue a base on balls to load the bases in the 10th. Francona had no option other than to pinch run for him, if only to spare him any public humiliation, aside from the reality that his inability to run could conceivably have cost the Sox the game.

"I don't think it was fair to have him in a position where somebody hits a ground ball in the hole," said Francona, "and we're going to score a run, but he can't run to second, and he's halfway there and they get an out they shouldn't. I can't let that happen."

No one is accusing Lowell of being selfish. He is as respected as any man in that locker room. But regardless of his wants, the ultimate call belongs to the skipper, with advice from the medical people, naturally.

Said Francona before making the final decision, "We certainly - without having a running conversation - we kind of know where he's at. We have some decisions to make. Maybe one decision is to do nothing. You know, some of it is going to depend on what the doctors say we needed to do with him. So it's difficult for him right now because he's pretty banged up."

This has not been a happy, or particularly productive, season for Mike Lowell. He has been on the dreaded disabled list three times. He was out from April 10-25 with a sprained left thumb. He was out from Aug. 13 through Sept. 3 with a strained left oblique muscle. Finally, he went on the DL for the third time with this matter of a torn labrum in his hip.

The final numbers were actually pretty good when compared with his first year here two years ago, when he had an .814 OPS with 20 homers and 80 ribbies in 573 at-bats. He only drove in seven fewer runs in 154 fewer official at-bats. His OPS was .799.

He definitely had his moments. He got off to a frigid start, failing to drive in a run in his first 15 games. But he knocked in 54 in the next 57 games, a total that was second only to Ryan Howard's 62 in that span. With any kind of good health, a fourth career 100-RBI season would have been quite attainable.

Mike Lowell is one year removed from a 120-RBI season capped by an MVP award in the World Series. With You Know Who having gone You Know Where, Mike Lowell represented a very important piece of the Red Sox' run-producing puzzle. He also saves runs with his glove. But that Mike Lowell isn't available to the Red Sox right now.

Francona was hemmed in by the rules. By replacing Lowell with a healthier body, he knew the consequence would extend past this series. That's what he meant by saying the best decision might have been to do nothing.

But Mike Lowell clearly cannot play proper major league baseball right now. About all the Red Sox can hope for is that there might be a Kirk Gibson moment somewhere down the road.

Bob Ryan is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at ryan@globe.com.