The scene felt almost surreal in its familiarity.

There was Pedro Martinez, looking physically small on the mound, but wearing that cold-eyed mask of determination as he stood tall in enemy territory.

(Getty Images Photo/Jim McIsaac)

And there, in the pivotal seventh inning, was Charlie Manuel, the Phillies' affable goof of a manager, suddenly channeling his friend and fellow strategic simpleton, Grady Little. Who needs logic and statistics when you have good 'ol gut instinct?

Like Little, who once made an inexplicable decision in a crucial situation that in no way requires a rehash here, Manuel last night left Pedro on the mound beyond the well-established 100-pitch expiration date on his right arm.

The consequences were not as grave as in 2003 -- at least Manuel had the good sense to pull Martinez after pair of hits, and the Phillies' bullpen escaped with the game still within reach. But some similarities were unavoidable, right down to the Yankees' winning blueprint for how they usually overcame (and aggravated) Pedro during his prime: shut down the other offense, take a patient approach to build up his pitch count, chip away for a run or two, maybe flick a cheapo homer to right field, and then turn the ball over to the ageless Mr. Rivera.

Little, upon his inevitable dismissal in the aftermath of his blunder, warned us that he was a ghost fully capable of haunting. Apparently, whispering "Leave him in, Charlie. It's Pedro!" was the best he could do.

Of course, Red Sox fans were not at all haunted by last night's turn of events. Those days, like the Fox-mandated reminders of Bucky and the Babe, are gone, and good riddance. There was no stirring of the angst, which has been rendered stagnant by so many good times since 2004. While Pedro belongs to Boston, he is with Philadelphia, and the what-if? disappointment of defeat in a winnable game lingers with them today, not us.

But for those of us who admired and were awed by Pedro during his seven magnificent seasons with the Red Sox. . . for those of us who make the argument that he's in the argument as the greatest pitcher of all time . . . for those of us who are still and will always be sentimental for that one day in five during the summer when the Dominican flags were flying and the white and red K cards dotted the green bleacher wall and anything up to and including perfection seemed possible . . . let's just say it was just fun to hang on every pitch of a Pedro start again. One more time for all the old times, you know?

The result was unsatisfying -- oh, wouldn't it have been sweet to monitor the panic from afar as the Yankees headed to Philly in an 0-2 hole? -- but the performance itself was tremendously fulfilling. Pedro is 38 years old now. His fastball long ago went to live on ESPN Classic. He went to the mound last night armed with John Burkett's repertoire, and his own uncommon abundance of pride, intelligence, guile and charisma. It was a treat to watch him trade pitches with A.J. Burnett, a gifted, enigmatic flake who was at his breathtaking best for seven innings last night. He was overpowering and untouchable, and his performance must have, if only in a fleeting moment, reminded Pedro of when his arm was stocked with lightning bolts and a batter's only hope was fortuitous timing.

The best moment? For a while, that seemed obvious: The quick-pitch of Derek Jeter for strike three while he was going through his trademark time-out-no-not-really-I'm-just-raising-my-arm-because-I'm-cool-like-that routine in the batter's box. I'd like to think Pedro got the thought to try it based on his institutional knowledge of the Yankees gained from his time with the Sox. Yep, that just happened. Take a seat, Captain. How I would have loved to have heard the muttered comments in the Yankees dugout after that trick.

Yet outwitting Jeter was only the first runner-up. The best moment, the one that made the night even as the Fox camera cut away from it too soon, came after Pedro's work was done. As he walked slowly off the mound, the jeers of the jackals -- standing, as always -- ringing in his ears, he raised his head and surveyed the scene, almost as if he was trying to look every last one of his hecklers in the eyes. Pedro has always worn the emotion of the situation on his face, and he could not mask it this time, either. You could see the competitor in him was crushed.

Then, in a flash, his expression changed. He smiled. And he kept smiling. He later explained why, but as the scene unfolded in real time, it struck us as classic, defiant Pedro, staring down adversity, then smiling in its face.

He appreciated the significance of the night, the ballgame, his performance. As always, Pedro understood.

And that's when the truth hit you. If Yankees fans had any collective appreciation of what they had just witnessed, the same sense for time and place that their aging nemesis did, those chants, well, they might just have turned to cheers.

Well, Sox fans, you knew that enjoyable October schadenfreude of the past few seasons couldn't last forever. The Yankees' run of five years without reaching a World Series officially ends tonight when former Indians ace CC Sabathia takes the mound against former Indians ace Cliff Lee in Game 1 in the Bronx.

While somewhere in a Cleveland suburb Mark Shapiro gently weeps, those of us here in New England who were born and raised to loathe pinstripes are left to hope against hope that the Yankees' stretch of seasons without a championship extends to nine. We've enjoyed the peace and quiet the last few years regarding a certain rivalry, not to mention the last laugh on a couple of unforgettable occasions, and I'm surely not about to root for that to change.

Unfortunately, I'm fairly convinced it will.

While you have to tip your cap to Jimmy Rollins for his boldness -- the Phillies' shortstop and resident Joe Namath wannabe likes his club in five games, maybe six, and wasn't it nice of him to give the Yankees a win or two? -- I worry that he's somehow mixing up his New York teams. The Mets, now those habitual underachievers are the ones you make guarantees against. The Yankees? They're the ones who almost convince us that they like each other during their various celebrations along the way.

Even a Sox fan has to concede that this has been shaping up to be the Yankees' season for some time now -- in retrospect, probably since they spent $423,500,000 on a trio of players during a gluttonous and tremendously successful free-agent buying spree last winter. It took a while for the new expensive pieces, which replaced failed and broken-down expensive pieces, to fit together properly with the holdover expensive pieces, but once the Yankees got rolling midsummer, all evidence indicated that they were the team to beat.

(Have I whined enough about the payroll yet? I have? I wasn't being subtle there? Okay, I'll stop. You can put down your tiny violins now, Yankees fans.)

Through the first two rounds of the postseason, the evidence has continued to mount, and we've been seeing too many of those old annoying traits and harbingers that became so annoyingly familiar a decade ago. Mariano Rivera remains ageless and a boon to wood-bat-makers everywhere. Alex Rodriguez, notorious for gulping down his tongue in big moments, has enjoyed a hellacious postseason (.438, five homers) and is apparently finding the same inspiration in Penny Lane that William Miller did. Derek Jeter is again the Fox network's favorite camera-ready prime-time star.

(Quick aside: It's beyond disenchanting to learn that Jeter's at-bat music is Jay-Z's exhilarating "Empire State of Mind." I would have thought it would have been something by, I don't know, maybe the Jonas Brothers, since they are also tremendously popular, adored by Tim McCarver, and have no range to speak of.)

The Yankees' postseason performance has become such an obvious flashback to their last dynastic run that it's almost disconcerting when Joe Girardi trots to the mound to change a pitcher; you still half expect to see Joe Torre trudging out there, stoic look on his face, arms at his sides, as he decides which middle reliever will be visiting Dr. James Andrews next. Two innings and a dozen pitching changes later, however, you're extremely used to Girardi, who looks so perpetually tense that you can't help but recall Ferris Bueller's line about his uptight friend Cameron when you look at him. The man's veins have veins.

I suppose a Sox fan's envy could appear to be seeping through the words here, and I do have to admit, the desired outcome of this World Series involves a Yankees meltdown of epic proportions. (How could it possibly be more epic than 2004, well, that's for the script writers to figure out, though A-Rod in the fetal position needs to be involved somehow.) But you know what I'd settle for? A memorable, taut, seven-game series. Setting down our blatant subjectivity for a moment, it seems apparent that baseball's two best teams are the two remaining teams, and there's justice in that.

In my fear of a Yankee uprising -- weird how their fans seem to be commenting on this blog more often these days -- perhaps I am being too dismissive of the Phillies' chances. After all, they are the ones who will enter the ring tonight wearing the championship belt. They have a lineup capable of winning a slugfest, a true ace in Cliff Lee (how shrewd was Ruben Amaro Jr. in pulling off the Lee deal rather than caving to the Blue Jays' demands for Roy Halladay?), and a deep if hardly flawless pitching staff.

The Phillies can win this thing. I've almost even convinced myself of that. But they are going to need some specific and fortuitous developments along the way to do so. It wouldn't hurt, for one, if Cole Hamels started pitching like he did en route to winning the World Series Most Valuable Player award a season ago; given his uneven season, which at times has appeared to be a tribute to Terry Mulholland, that's probably unlikely. Here are a few more must-happens if the Phillies are to repeat.

Jayson Werth needs to have a monster series: Werth, the Phillies' mashing 30-year-old right fielder, has an interesting background. He's the stepson of former Yankees catcher Dennis Werth, but his athletic bloodlines come in large part from his mom's side (former major league shortstop Dick Schoefield is his uncle). He was a phenom as a catcher in the Orioles system a decade ago, had some injuries and fell out of favor, got dealt to Toronto for the forgettable John Bale, was swapped to the Dodgers for Jason Frasor, converted to an outfielder, suffered recurring wrist issues after getting hit by an A.J. Burnett pitch that eventually cost him the entire 2006 season . . . then, virtually out of nowhere in '08, he hit 24 homers for the Phillies, including a league-best 16 against lefthanded pitchers. This season, he emerged as a bona-fide slugger, clubbing 36 homers, driving in 99 runs, and putting up an .879 OPS. And he absolutely mauled lefthanders, hitting 14 homers in 189 plate appearances with an OPS of 1.030. Given that as many as four games could be started by lefties for the Yankees, and given that Ryan Howard's OPS against lefties this year was .653, Werth is going to have to deliver if the Phillies are to repeat. (Coincidentally, lefthanded-hitting Chase Utley was actually better against lefties than righties. But the point stands. Werth must deliver.)

(Yes, another digression: Look at this photo of Werth during his Orioles youth and tell me a few years later he didn't hire a stylist and say, "Do whatever it takes, Lionel, but you've got to make me look like Scott Speizio.")

Brad Lidge cannot pull a Papelbon. OK, so unfair. Papelbon doesn't allow a run in his first 27 postseason innings, closes out a World Series, and because of one poorly-timed brutal postseason performance, he's suddenly Toby Borland? We apologize. Brad Lidge is actually Toby Borland. It's staggering how awful he was this season -- no wins, eight losses, 11 blown saves, a 7.21 ERA and 1.86 WHIP, and an ERA+ of 59. All the more remarkable is that this happened after an essentially flawless '08 season in which he was a perfect 41 of 41 in save opportunities, had an 225 adjusted ERA, and recorded the final out to clinch the franchise's first championship since '80. Lidge has been a little better lately -- he has three saves and a win this postseason and has not allowed a run -- but tell me you won't be expecting to see a sequel to this should he be on the mound in the ninth inning with A-Rod or Teixeira at the plate and the game on the line.

Pedro feeds off the taunts of Yankees' fans and thrives. I'd just as soon never hear the phrase "Who's your daddy?" again, and that includes that Toby Keith song. But there's no doubt that Pedro's return the Bronx -- the site of some of his greatest triumphs and painful disappointments -- is the compelling storyline of this World Series. I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to it while also dreading it, if that makes sense. Logic suggests the Yankees, patient and powerful, will get to him with relative ease. That lineup and his repertoire in that tribute-to-Williamsport ballpark cannot be a good combination, and the last thing I want to see is him walking slowly off the mound with one out in the fourth inning as the box-seat jackals pelt him with taunts. But . . . this is Pedro we're talking about. He's 38, and the fastball only tiptoes into the 90s now, but he doesn't lack for savvy and guile, and he remains as intelligent and determined as any pitcher -- any athlete -- we've been fortunate enough to witness. I don't expect him to fare well. But if he does, well, I'm not going to be totally surprised, either, because that man will always get the benefit of the doubt from me. As we learned a long time ago, with Pedro, anything is possible, up to and including sticking one between Nick Swisher's shoulder blades, then saying later, "My bad. I thought he was -- what was that guy's name? Ah, yes, Karim Garcia."

Charlie Manuel will have to guess right, then guess right again . . . and again . . . and again . . . : Manuel could become the first since Torre to win back to back World Series. We'd feel better about that if he wasn't such a guts-instincts-hunches type in the mold of his pal Grady Little. I fear he'll leave Pedro out there too long, or leave Lidge in to pour gasoline on a fire, or play Matt Stairs at second base just for a hearty chuckle. OK, maybe he won't do the latter, but my hunch doesn't change: Yankees in six.

Here's hoping Jimmy Rollins is better at the prediction game than I am.

What, you thought we'd let the five-year anniversary of the most liberating, cherished, downright meaningful Boston Red Sox game in modern franchise history pass without raising the proverbial shot glass of Jack Daniel's in celebration?

C'mon now. Like anyone who ever felt real, genuine emotion about the Red Sox could ever forget the date and details of a victory that was generations in the making, a victory you and me, our parents and spouses and children and grandparents wondered if we would ever be blessed enough to witness.

October 20, 2004. Game 7 of the American League Championship Series. Final score: Red Sox 10, Yankees 3.

And everything changed.

Red Sox fans will forever remember it as their day of redemption, the victory that made the deep, personal investment of time and emotion through so many seasons worthwhile at last.

Yankees fans? I'm pretty sure they remember it as Thanks For Nothin' Kevin Bleepin' Brown Day.

I imagine I don't need to tell you this, but there is not an ounce of exaggeration or hyperbole in the suggestion that the victory set Red Sox fans free. That's precisely what happened. No more chants of "1918!!" that left Sox fans without a suitable comeback. No more tired network television references to Bucky, Boone and the Babe.

Just sweet, sweet emancipation.

Sure, there was still a World Series to be won, a detail that Dan Shaughnessy reminded us of in the heady days immediately after the ALCS. But in the end, the Fall Classic, as delightful as it was to watch unfold, was anything but a classic. Instead, it was an anticlimactic four-game sweep of the St. Louis Cardinals, who were no match for the Red Sox or their destiny. (In general, to beat destiny, you need a better Game 1 starter than Woody Williams.)

And that's how it should have been. It's appropriate that beating the Yankees in Game 7 on their turf, having overcome a three-games-to-none deficit in a manner that exceeded a Sox fan's wildest daydreams, stands as the definitive accomplishment en route to the franchise's first championship in . . . what was it, 86 years? Now there's a number we rarely hear these days.

(Globe File Photo/Jim Davis)

Every member of the team accomplishing such a feat should be remembered with affection -- Mueller and Millar, Varitek and Wakefield, Bellhorn and Cabrera, each and every one of them, Leskanic and Embree, no first names necessary. I believe the operative phrase is, "He'll never have to buy another drink in this town again."

And some should, and have, become iconic.

David Ortiz, first and foremost. Big Papi, Mr. Clutch, the man who saved his greatest exploits for the tensest moments. His performance in Games 4 and 5 alone should have inspired a film in ESPN's "30 for 30" series. Maybe two.

Keith Foulke, whom we'll forever believe sacrificed seasons of his career to answer the bell night after night in the grueling ALCS. It's time to let the Johnny from Burger King pettiness go, folks.

Curt Schilling, who managed to shut up 55,000 New Yorkers, send Mystique and Aura scurrying back to their gentleman's club, and most unlikely of all, added the phrase "bloody sock" to the permanent New England sports lexicon.

Derek Lowe, who entered the postseason buried deep in the bullpen and ended it with one of the most improbable playoff feats of all-time, earning the clinching victory in all three series, including his six-inning, one-hit, one-run masterpiece in Game 7 on two days' rest. Lowe's performance in that game -- particularly considering he began the postseason looking like Nicolas Cage in "Leaving Las Vegas" -- remains perhaps the single most amazing moment in a postseason that provided a boxed set's worth of nominees.

And, yes, Johnny Damon. He's cast as the villain now, having taken the Yankees' bags of cash in free agency after the 2005 season. At first it was hard to accept his decision to so casually shed his popular "Idiot" persona and join the enemy, especially since he'd said he'd never consider such a traitorous act. But any frustration with his change of allegiances has faded, not only because the Red Sox have a 1-0 lead on the Yankees (for now) in terms of championships since he left, but because at some point this realization hit us:

How can Yankees fans ever look at him without remembering his role in Game 7?

Make no mistake: If there is such a thing as a hero in something as trivial as baseball, then it was Johnny Damon on that particular October night. Foreshadowing bigger things to come, he led off the ballgame against Yankees starter Kevin Brown with a single, then promptly swiped second. When he was thrown out a home on a Manny Ramirez single, Sox fans were hit with that familiar "Here we go again" feeling, but this time, its stay was brief.

Papi -- you expected someone else? -- immediately silenced our yelping about a wasted opportunity, walloping a two-run homer to right.

The real fun began in the second. After Brown, who was in desperate need of an anger management course even on his happier days, melted down and loaded the bases, Yankees manager Joe Torre summoned Javier Vazquez from the bullpen to face Damon.

You could say it didn't quite work out as he had hoped.

Damon greeted Vazquez with a grand slam on his first pitch, the center fielder's first of his two home runs on the night. The Red Sox had a 6-0 lead, the rout was on, and redemption for the Red Sox was in the air in, believe or not, the Bronx.

The rest was just details en route to the celebration. Oh, there was a little drama, a small shiver of concern, when Pedro Martinez entered to start the bottom of the seventh inning. The ghosts began rattling and the "Who's your daddy!?" chants echoed as he took the mound at the scene of the previous year's crime. But after three of the first four batters reached, with two runs scoring to cut the lead to 8-3, he retired John Olerud and Miguel Cairo to end the inning. Pedro escaped. And that's when it hit us: Holy [pick your own word], this is really going to happen.

And so it did, and while some might dispute this, the circumstances of the victory made it worth the wait. It's almost as if it had to be that way, with that wildly talented, carefree, yet determined group of ballplayers being the ideal -- perhaps necessary -- mix of personalities to overcome all the history. And did we mention the 3-0 deficit?

Five years later, what transpired that night means every bit as much to us at it did at 12:01 a.m. on Oct. 21, when Ruben Sierra grounded to Pokey Reese for the final out, and the Red Sox, at long last, did not turn back into a pumpkin after midnight.

History, of course, wasn't the only thing to change. Our perception of the Red Sox did as well, and for the better.

Oh, some Sox fans went digging through the boxes in the attic for that old familiar angst after the 2009 edition was eliminated from the postseason in three games last Sunday. But for most of us, with fulfilled dreams came perspective.

The realization that the Angels probably deserved to defeat a flawed Red Sox team was enhanced ever so slightly by the realization that they had finally overcome a team that had served them so many helpings of cold disappointment through the years.

Five years ago, those colliding feelings of triumph and retribution and, most of all, pure, delirious joy, belonged to us.

Five years later, the memory of what Papi, D-Lowe, Damon and the rest of that wonderful crew accomplished that night remains ever so sweet.

It's 'bout time we caught up on some baseball stuff around here, so let's skip the usual greetings and empty out the notebook already with a Vollmer-sized post . . .

* * *

The buzzword -- or buzzphrase, I suppose -- regarding the coming season for the Red Sox seems to be "team in transition." Theo Epstein, who as you probably recall once donned a primate suit and went on a Vedder-following hiatus after one too many differences in philosophy with Larry Lucchino, seems to be warning us in his usual subtle but clear way that a step back next season may be required in order to ensure a prolonged run of tremendous success, ticket sales and public perception be damned.

Epstein is unwilling -- wisely, I say -- to pay players more than he believes them to be worth just to keep the gravy train rolling. The catch is that given the lousy 2010 free agent class, the result may be that their best power-hitter, Jason Bay, takes a five-year deal elsewhere without a long-term replacement arriving to take his spot in the lineup and in left field. Might be wise to brace for it.

This team is at a strange place right now. They still have a deep, skilled roster and a diverse pitching staff rich in talent. Yet circumstance makes some of the flaws extremely difficult to repair on one offseason. Key players from championship teams (David Ortiz, Mike Lowell, Jason Varitek) either aging, declining, becoming an injury risk, or all three; their best power hitter; Bay, is ready to listen to offers, and no suitable replacement for his slugging prowess available in free agency; and there is no obvious way to upgrade the weaknesses in the lineup this season save for a depth-depleting blockbuster trade.

It's funny, you don't hear so much these days from those who wondered why the Sox would pursue Mark Teixeira at the expense of Lowell's ego. The Sox still need an A-list slugger, and possibly a replacement for Bay, too, particularly if the Sox are as skeptical as this writer of his long-term prognosis. But there's no Teixeira-type available this year, and missing out on him because he preferred New York and played them for fools is going to linger until the Sox acquire a hitter of similar accomplishment.

But enough with the warnings and the pessimism. The Sox' offense in 2009 wasn't nearly as mediocre as the final impression it left. While they did make a habit of struggling against good pitching, as Peter Gammons first noted, they still scored more runs this season (872) than they did in 2007 or 2008, and they hit 212 homers, their season-high since 2004. All in all, they were swing-for-swing with the Angels as the second-best offense in the AL this season.

With a full season of Victor Martinez in '10, and perhaps better health for Kevin Youkilis (surprisingly, he missed 26 games in '09), it's not like they're going to turn into the 1975 California Angels if Bay departs.

But to be championship-caliber again, to be able to beat the Lackeys and Weavers when it matters most, reinforcements are going to be necessary.

Good luck to Theo as he pursues them, because barring something unforeseen this offseason, it appears they will be in short supply.

* * *

In a related note, two stars that past interest suggests Epstein will pursue this offseason . . .

Felix Hernandez, RHP, Seattle: You bet it would take an overwhelming offer, particularly now that Seattle has competent leadership in general manager Jack Zduriencik, who developed much of the Brewers' young talent before taking over the Mariners before this season.

But Theo has acknowledged in the past that he's all but smitten with the Seattle ace, King Felix is undeniably a truly elite talent, he's only 23, and by all accounts has matured in terms of his professionalism the last couple of seasons.

Bringing him to Boston at this point in his career would rank somewhere between getting Pedro from the Expos after the '97 season and Dennis Eckersley from Cleveland before '78 in terms of acquiring a young No. 1 starter at the perfect point in his career. If Theo can do it without trading every prospect rated in Baseball America's top 10 in the system, he has to do it.

Adrian Gonzalez, 1B, San Diego: If the point wasn't belabored enough several paragraphs ago, there's a job opening for a genuine, prime-of-career, middle-of-the-order bopper. Gonzalez, who won't be 28 until May, is the closest thing to Teixeira that the Sox could possibly acquire this offseason, assuming someone such as Justin Morneau or Prince Fielder doesn't become available.

(Coincidentally -- and you can file this one under Don't Know What You've Got Til It's Gone --Gonzalez was once Teixeira's backup in Texas.)

Gonzalez hit 40 homers, walked 119 times, and finished third in the NL in adjusted OPS this season. Away from Petco, he was essentially a lefthanded-hitting Albert Pujols, hitting 28 homers with a 1.045 OPS in 294 at-bats.

Clearly, the price, as in the case with Hernandez, will be somewhere from steep to staggering to are-you-kidding-me?

But you can be sure Theo will at least revisit talks with the Padres again . . . and wouldn't it be something if Jed Hoyer, a candidate for the vacated GM job in San Diego and someone with deep knowledge of the Sox' farm system, is the person doing the bargaining on the other end of the phone?

* * *

. . . and a few free agent names we suspect might be on his short list:

It's not about the manager.

Maybe Terry Francona did leave Josh Beckett in a batter or two too long Friday night, when the Red Sox let Game 2 of the American League Division Series get away, thus leaving them requiring a three-game winning streak just for the privilege of renewing postseason acquaintances with the Yankees, who I'm fairly sure received a bye to the AL Championship Series.

Maybe walking Vladimir Guerrero, who has been known to start hacking before the catcher even puts down the signs, was a harbinger of bad things to come for the Sox in the seventh inning, and maybe Tito should have been on red alert right then.

But c'mon -- it was Josh Beckett on the mound, one of the premier postseason pitchers of all time, and he was pitching economically and efficiently, having thrown just 75 pitches through six innings of one-run ball. If you're not going to give the benefit of the doubt to Beckett under those circumstances, then no pitcher ever is worthy of it. The worst decision Francona made this week remains hitting the drive-thru at Del Taco.

It's not about the umpiring.

C.B. Bucknor long ago sealed his reputation as a man in desperate need of a gifted optometrist -- it is suspected that C.B. stands for Completely Blind. He has twice been named the worst ump in baseball in a poll of major league players by Sports Illustrated, and I imagine he'd win in a landslide if the question was posed again tomorrow. But botched calls really haven't cost the Red Sox more than a few extra pitches from Lester and Beckett. Championship-caliber teams don't blame even the lousiest of umps. They overcome them.

It's not about an absence of passion . . .

. . . or heart, or swagger, or grit, guts, determination, the burden of history, karma or any other cliched, vaguely-related-to-sports concepts that act as an easy crutch when a fan doesn't want to concede that the other side might be superior on a given night, in a given series, in a given season.

It's not about anything but the bats, folks. The Sox haven't hit, and that's why they haven't won.

The numbers are grotesque. In two games and 18 innings, the Red Sox have scored one run. One. They have eight hits. They are eagerly awaiting their first home run of the series. Their team batting average is .131. Their team slugging percentage is .180, their OBP is .185. Their team OPS, .365, is .124 points lower than Jason Varitek's during his depressing second half of the season. It's been so bad, Mario Mendoza might consider using them as a punchline.

Playing nine innings while looking forward to buying a "2009 AL wild card champions" t-shirt for $3.99 at Olympia a month from now . . .

1. Peter Gammons tweeted this bit of info this morning, and it caught me by such surprise that I had to turn to MLB.com for confirmation, but it is true: J.D. Drew is second among qualifying American League outfielders in OPS this season, behind only teammate Jason Bay. (Adam Lind, who would be first, doesn't count since he's primarily been a DH.) Further, Drew is 11th overall, trailing these 10 boppers: Joe Mauer, Youk, You're On The Mark Teixeira!, Miguel Cabrera, Lind, A-Rod, Ben Zobrist, Bay, Michael Young, and Kendry Morales. Damn good company. I don't know if this is an indictment of OPS as a measuring stick regarding a player's contributions and value, or a sign that we've been sleeping on a very useful season from the player who is in the top five on the Red Sox' all-time list of enigmas. But the conclusion is inescapable: Drew has had a sneaky-excellent season.

2. It's tempting to root for the Morneau-less Twins in this honest-to-goodness pennant race with the Tigers, if for no other reason than the slim chance that it will enhance Joe Mauer's MVP candidacy in the brussels sprout-sized minds of those who believe there is any other logical choice. But . . . but . . . I just can't do it, for two reasons: I can't stand the Twins' addiction to Punto-ing away outs with small-ball tactics, and, more important, I'm fairly sure they'd be roadkill against the Yankees. I've shared this dream before, and I will again, because I'm convinced it can become reality: Justin Verlander, who is 1-1 with a 1.29 ERA and 15 strikeouts in 14 innings against the Yankees this season, beats CC Sabathia in Game 1 . . . and suddenly, the Yankees are counting on maddening A.J. Burnett to win Game 2 . . . and the entitled and desperate jackals get bloodthirsty, and . . .

3. Obviously, the priority over the final four games is to get the pitching staff lined up and the lineup rested for the postseason. But I hope David Ortiz, who undoubtedly could benefit from a day off or two, gets the opportunity to wallop the two homers and drive in the four runs he needs for his sixth career 30 homer/100 RBI season. Considering that he didn't hit his second home run until June 6 -- the 56th game of the season -- it's remarkable that he even has a shot at the dual milestones at all. And for all that has happened to him this season -- and all he did for Sox fans in previous seasons -- it is very, very easy to root for a little bit of redemption for the man

4. The Tek Army, depleted, battered, and on the verge of acknowledging that their idol is barely able to throw to second base in under 2.5 seconds, has been reduced to suggesting that their captain should call pitches from the bench during the postseason. I know it's hard to believe, but I never wanted it to come to this; my problem was never with Varitek, an admirable and important player during the Red Sox' terrific recent run, but with those who exaggerated his secondary abilities when it was apparent that his truly valuable skills were eroding. I actually wouldn't mind if he's behind the plate for Josh Beckett's Game 2 start -- Varitek's presence is of apparent importance to the pitcher, and that's worth something. I just don't want to see him digging in to the batter's box for a meaningful late-inning at-bat. Heck, I'd rather see the suddenly available Eric Wedge get a few swings. Check out that HR rate in '92.

5. Yeah, I suppose it was in questionable taste for Angels players to toast (and douse) the image of Nick Adenhart on the outfield wall with champagne and beer during their playoff-clinching celebration Monday night, given that the promising young pitcher was killed by a drunk driver. But I don't have much of an issue with it, considering that their intent was heartfelt and genuine. What did bug me was Angels broadcaster Rex Hudler's relentless yapping as the Angels' players headed out to pay tribute to their fallen teammate. Even Chris Berman knows that moments such as that one don't need a running commentary.

If we didn't acknowledge the truth here, I suppose we'd be just as ungracious as we accuse Yankees fans of being. So here comes the obvious, straight and down the middle like a Manny Delcarmen fastball on a 3-1 count:

The 2009 New York Yankees are one hell of a baseball team. And while the thought is hardly appealing, it's very easy to envision them enjoying a booze-spraying celebration in late October, just as they did yesterday.

Forget parochialism and all we've been raised to believe. You simply must tip your cap to a ball club that wins 100 games -- something the Sox franchise has not done since, believe it or not, 1946 -- and particularly one that accomplishes the milestone with six more dates on the schedule.

(Quick digression: Is it me, or was Joe Castiglione's call of Edgar Renteria's one-hopper to Keith Foulke in '04 more subdued than Jon Miller's extremely enthusiastic call yesterday of Jacoby Ellsbury's game-ending squibber to Mariano Rivera? I'm not exactly sure of which announcer I'm critiquing here. Both, I guess.)

Having watched them punch and counter-punch the Red Sox for 18 games this season (in the aftermath the final 9-9 draw, that 8-0 start for the good guys sure feels like a couple of summers ago), we require no lengthy rehash of their strengths and standouts, of Phil Hughes's crucial emergence, Derek Jeter's unusual age-35 resurgence, or Mark Teixeira's all-around importance. The Yankees and their plot twists are always familiar around here.

OK . . . now that I've filled my annual quota for sincere niceties regarding the Yankees -- we generally for three paragraphs per season, give or take a sentence -- here comes the caveat, the real reason I wanted to write about this today, and I could not mean this more:

I like this Red Sox team a lot -- Theo's midseason tweaks greatly enhanced the offense (V-Mart is exactly what they required) and defense (Gonzo brought stability along with his uncommon grace and flash) -- and I love their chances in October.

Yes, even against the team that just partied on in front of them.

I'm not foolish enough to suggest it's a forgone conclusion or predetermined by destiny (or Fox network executives) that the Sox and Yankees shall meet again. Clinching the wild card is a formality, one which will become a reality in the next day or two unless Terry Francona inexplicably begins channeling Gene Mauch. Getting past the tough and talented Angels in the first round is a different matter entirely, no matter what the teams' postseason history might suggest. The Angels are not to be overlooked.

Who was that guy?

That certainly looked like Daisuke Matsuzaka on the mound for the Red Sox last night -- a slimmed-down version, anyway. The deliberate wind up, the stoic look, the wide variety of pitches . . . it's all become familiar during his three seasons in Boston. Yep, that was him.

But so much about the enigmatic righthander's six-plus-inning, three-hit, no-run gem was unfamiliar. He pounded the strike zone with all of his pitches. He was efficient and worked with purpose. His fastball hopped, his cutter sawed off bats, and his slider was as sharp as we can recall seeing it. And the game ended in less than four hours.

His performance was as mesmerizing as it was unexpected. I'm only being slightly snarky when I say he delivered last night like he thought it was the championship game of the World Baseball Classic.

Matsuzaka hadn't pitched for the Red Sox since July 19. He hadn't pitched well for the Red Sox since 2008, when he went a high-maintenance 18-3 with a 2.90 ERA.

Yet last night, so improbably, he faces the second-best hitting team in baseball and pitches as well as we have ever seen him, save for perhaps a masterful performance versus Detroit in 2007 and another last August against the White Sox.

Always the enigma, that Dice-K. Just when you're ready to write him off for the season, he returns after a three-month banishment to run wind sprints in not-so-scenic Fort Myers and reminds you why the Red Sox -- and just about everyone else -- coveted him so three years ago.

That clever, confident pitcher with the deep repertoire on the mound last night? That was the one Craig Shipley, Jon Deeble, and the Red Sox scouting staff fell for, the iconic Japanese baseball superstar for whom the Red Sox outbid all other suitors three years ago for the sole rights to negotiate with him. (I never word that right; you know what I mean.)

It's who the Sox thought they were getting all along, and while it's unfair -- check that, it's wrong -- to suggest Matsuzaka is a bust with the Sox, given his 33 victories and contribution to a World Championship during his first two seasons, the question now is whether this is the pitcher we will see going forward.

If you happened to follow that translucent-looking fella in the right-hand column over there on Twitter, you'd already have been subjected to this nearly insightful bit of statistical cherry-picking last night:

Jamie Moyer has two hits [Tuesday] and three total for August. One more and he ties Jason Varitek for the month.

The point, hidden beneath the usual layer of snark, was this:

Jamie Moyer should be catching for the Red Sox. What were you ever thinking, trading him for Darren Bragg, Duquette?

No, no, wait . . . that's not it. Unfortunately for the loyal citizens of the Varitek Army, the real point is much more cruel:

The injury that led to Varitek being pulled from the lineup a few hours before Tuesday's game is a barely disguised blessing regarding the Red Sox' postseason chances.

I realize this might seem a curious time to make such a blunt assessment, on the day after Josh Beckett, whose respect for Varitek is well documented, endured his worst start in weeks on a day in which his favorite catcher was pulled from the starting lineup just three hours before game time with neck soreness.

You know what that is? Coincidence. Nothing more.

Yes, we know Beckett is obsessively prepared, a dedicated slave to his own routine. He likes things just so, and he gets angry (or angrier) when they are not. Even Terry Francona noted that his ace seemed anxious after learning Varitek would not be behind the plate. But Varitek's absence had nothing -- OK, very little -- to do with Beckett's struggles last night.

It was not because of Varitek's absence that Beckett suddenly developed a nervous rookie's command of his repertoire. It was not because of Varitek's absence that Beckett got rocked at Toronto yet again. And the notion that the notoriously macho Texan might curl up into the Schiraldi position behind the mound if he has to throw to a backstop other than Varitek is ridiculous on the surface, and downright misleading if you have access to Beckett's career statistics.

Playing nine innings while humming the "This Week In Baseball" theme song for no apparent reason (except that it is awesome) . . .

1. An Alex Gonzalez sequel? Eh, I suppose it's an upgrade over Nick Green and Chris Woodward, though at this point the other Alex Gonzalez might be an improvement, and he's been out of baseball since 2006. As we learned first-hand in 2006, Gonzalez has never been much with the bat -- his career-best adjusted OPS is 99, set in 2007 with the Reds -- and he's having an awful year this year, batting .210 with three homers. Of course, we know why the Sox brought him back: He's always been one of the most graceful fielders in the game, and that hasn't changed, though there is some debate as to whether he's lost a significant amount of range since 2006, when he played the best defensive shortstop most Sox fans can recall. (Full disclosure: I thought Pokey was better.) My man Kilgore passes along this tidbit: Fangraphs rates Gonzalez's range as being worse than . . . Nick Green's. Green's biggest weakness is his erratic arm, so if anything, Gonzalez should provide defensive stability in the late innings. I think we're wise enough not going to expect much more than that, though.

2. I'm a little stunned by all the gripes I've heard (particularly in the chat this afternoon) regarding Tito's decision to sit Dustin Pedroia yesterday against Justin Verlander. I sometimes get accused of being a Francona apologist, and I do probably go too far in his defense on occasion simply because it seems he's a permanent target of the miserable I'm-Never-Happy-Unless-I'm-*$(#))ing-About-The-Red Sox-Manager crowd. But Pedroia has been struggling lately (he was hitting .167 over the previous five games), he hasn't had a full day off since early July, and besides, isn't it a good idea to give your hitters a mental health day against an elite pitcher every now and then?

3. I'm a little late on this, but I loved White Sox general manager Kenny Williams's decision to claim overpaid underachiever Alex Rios off waivers from the Blue Jays for a couple of reasons. 1) Williams is one of the few GMs with the daring to make deals that don't jibe with the conventional wisdom (the Jake Peavy swap was another). He has the courage of his distinctive convictions, but more importantly as far as fans are concerned, he has a knack for generating some interesting baseball discussion. 2) I have this completely unjustifiable hunch that Rios, who is only 28, is going to be worth the gamble despite his lackadaisical reputation. 3) If I recall correctly, Williams was mocked by Billy Beane in "Moneyball," so there's some irony in him bailing out J.P. Ricciardi, a former Beane underling, by taking Rios's bad contract off his hands just a few years after the outfielder's value was so high that there were rumors he'd be dealt to the Giants for a kid named Tim Lincecum.

4. Justin Masterson, who makes his second start for the Indians tonight after being dealt at the deadline in the Victor Martinez trade, has a 1.29 in his previous two appearances (one start) with Cleveland. I think that is enough evidence to rest my case that the Sox should have parted with Clay Buchholz, he of the .250 winning percentage, instead. See, now that's how you cherry-pick stats to make an argument. In all seriousness, Buchholz's last couple of starts have been cause for optimism, particularly his gutsy (if losing) effort in New York when the Sox were in the final stages of their disastrous trip. My questions about Buchholz have had little to do with his ability and just about everything to do with his makeup and grace under pressure. If he can continue to pitch consistently well in the bad times as well as good, then that is beyond encouraging concerning his future with the Red Sox.

5. In retrospect, the seemingly puzzling Casey Kotchman acquisition at the trading deadline probably shouldn't have been relegated to afterthought status, though that was easy enough to do after the Victor Martinez deal grabbed the headlines. While he hasn't hit for the 25-homer power that was projected for him when he was the Angels' No. 1 prospect a few seasons ago, he's an adequate hitter (career 97 adjusted OPS) who plays an outstanding first base, and there's certainly some value in that type of player. I thought it was interesting that Theo Epstein, who was surprisingly candid during his interview with WEEI's "Dale and Holley" yesterday, indicated that Kotchman, who is just 26, might be a bigger part of the Red Sox' future plans than we have realized. I wasn't sure why they made the deal when they did, but after watching Kotchman and hearing the Sox' explanation, I like it a lot. Now, if I could just forget that notorious second-half slugger Adam LaRoche has an 1.122 OPS for the Braves since the deal.

The intent today is to assure you that all will be well again in our little baseball town before October, that four consecutive losses in the Bronx during August do not portend a lost season.

In fact, after much effort, I've even talked myself into believing it.

It wasn't easy. After what we witnessed this weekend, a veteran skeptic might suggest that only the delusional and heavily medicated among us believe a Red Sox fan's faith will be rewarded with a championship in 2009.

The Yankees, who now own the best record in baseball by a half-game over the LA Dodgers, look like the class of the American League. Yes . . . them again, after that peaceful one-year hiatus. Everything has gone right for the Yankees in the last several weeks -- Mark Teixeira has proven the perfect addition to their offense and defense, A.J. Burnett is pitching like someone duped him into believing it's a contract year, Phil Hughes has brilliantly bridged the gap to Mariano Rivera, their core veterans refuse to age . . . it's all going so swimmingly, there were unconfirmed reports that Joe Girardi pondered smiling last night before deciding he wasn't in the mood to try something new.

Worse yet, their sweep of the Sox stands not only as a statement on the current condition of the AL East rivals, but also as a victory for the concept of shopping at Neiman Marcus rather than Reny's during free agency.

I thought the John Smoltz signing was savvy, and in the spirit of full disclosure (and because you have Google access), I also thought the signings of fellow low-risk, high-reward types Brad Penny, Takashi Saito, and Rocco Baldelli were shrewd. And they were. They just haven't worked out particularly well.

And there's the rub. I was sure that that the team fortunate enough to sign Teixeira would be pleased with the investment immediately. It's not the Sox' fault that they got played by Teixeira and agent Scott Boras, who according to absolutely all evidence and logic had the slugging first baseman ticketed for the Bronx all along. But it's a fan's nature to wonder how circumstances might be different had he grown up rooting for Wade Boggs rather than Don Mattingly, or had Mrs. Teixeira fallen for the luxurious charms of Newbury Street. But New York it was, all along.

(By the way, we don't hear much from the "But what would we do with Mike Lowell?" crowd these days.)

Assuming the Yankees aren't hit by an unprecedented string of injuries or that the midges don't come back for their king, Joba Chamberlain, and take a few of his teammates with him, I'm willing to admit it: the AL East belongs to New York. I'm already looking forward to the champagne celebration in the clubhouse when Teixeira and Derek Jeter pretend for five minutes that they can stand A-Rod.

I suppose this is the definition of good trade: I like the player the Red Sox acquired, but lament the departure of the players they dealt.

I'm glad for a number of reasons that Victor Martinez is now with the Red Sox, but I do wish Theo Epstein could have pulled it off without including Justin Masterson. I'd have much preferred Michael Bowden be part of the package, particularly since Masterson's departure leaves a void in the bullpen.

But you've got to give to get, and the more I considered the idea of Martinez in Boston, taking away at-bats from the injured and the ineffective, the more I liked it. And his five-hit, four-RBI game yesterday certainly helped deliver the final verdict: Smooth move, Theo.

As you've probably gathered, I'm playing catch-up as usual around here. So here are a few conclusions we can draw from recent Red Sox events:

Management believes in Clay Buchholz: Or, at least they did until his Wes Gardner Tribute Concert on the mound yesterday at Baltimore. Now Theo is probably wondering why he didn't offer him to the Yankees for Chien-Ming Wang when he had the chance.

OK, I kid. The truth is that yesterday's forgettable performance, during which Buchholz allowed nine hits and seven earned runs in four innings while nearly punting away a 7-0 lead, is unlikely to affect their perception or long-term hopes for him, even though his ERA ballooned to 6.05 and Mark Buehrle could throw four perfect innings in the time the deliberate (skittish?) Buchholz takes between pitches.

As aggravating as it was to watch, he reasonable take -- at least for now -- was that it was just an isolated meltdown.

After all, it was encouraging and telling that the Sox chose to part with three young pitchers, including the versatile Masterson and big lefty Nick Hagadone, rather than sending Buchholz to Cleveland straight-up for Martinez. If that isn't a vote of confidence -- something Buchholz himself has admitted he has required from time to time in the past -- then I don't know what is.

The flip side is that the Red Sox, with 42-year-old John Smoltz looking like Catfish Hunter circa 1979 and 43-year-old Tim Wakefield suffering from one of those injuries that tends to affect a 43-year-old, the Red Sox are now counting on him to pitch up to the level of his ability.

The Red Sox showed their faith in him by not sending him elsewhere last Friday. There is no better time than now for Buchholz to justify it.

The Red Sox farm system is deeper than the Atlantic: I think the only person more disappointed than me to see Masterson go was Joe Castiglione, who seems intent on telling us what a swell kid Masterson is every few innings for the remainder of the season.

He is by all accounts a wonderful guy, but it also bears noting that the 23-year-old is a pretty darn promising pitcher as well. Despite problems against lefthanded hitters that, in a worse-case scenario, could relegate him to lifetime of righthanded relief-specialist work, I still think Masterson has a better career than Buchholz. It shouldn't be overlooked that he was excellent in the postseason last year, while Buchholz still hasn't shown he can handle pressure.

But I know my place. The important thing is that the Red Sox preferred Buchholz to Masterson, and they have a pretty fair track record of identifying which prospects to keep and which ones to deal.

And we can't forget the big picture:

In the end, the Red Sox ended up getting a three-time All-Star switch-hitting catcher without giving up Buchholz, Daniel Bard, Casey Kelly, Lars Anderson, Josh Reddick, Ryan Westmoreland, Junichi Tazawa, or any of their other elite Baseball America darlings.

It's precisely the kind of trade only an organization of the Red Sox' riches and resources can make. The trade deadline isn't nearly as fun for others as it is for us.

I generally hold Chicken Little in lower regard than Grady Little, which is my hackneyed way of saying I'm not usually the sky-is-falling type.

I still believe John Smoltz delivers in October, his favorite time of year. I still believe J.D. Drew is a more valuable all-around player than he gets credit for. I still believe Nick Green will someday make an accurate throw to first base with the game on the line in the ninth inning.

But even a happy-happy-joy-joy! optimist has to recognize the reality with the Red Sox right now:

They may make the postseason with the roster as currently constructed. But their chances of doing some damage once they get there would be greatly enhanced if they pull off a major deal before 4 p.m. Friday.

This is not something Theo Epstein should consider doing. It's something he has to do.

If Epstein can bring Roy Halladay to Boston without parting with Daniel Bard or Casey Kelly, he has to do it. Ditto for San Diego slugger Adrian Gonzalez. And if he can acquire Victor Martinez from the Indians straight-up for Clay Buchholz, he should offer the soon-to-be 25-year-old nothing more than a handshake and a plane ticket and point him toward Ohio.

Despite the gruesome lingering memories from the last time they played -- not to mention the concerns stemming from their recent bouts with lackluster play -- common sense suggests the Red Sox are a very good team, one that with a meaningful tweak or two could make a push for its third World Series title in six seasons. And isn't that the goal? To legitimately contend for the championship every single year?

Under most circumstances, I would understand if Theo didn't swing a major deal before the deadline, then explained that the asking price was simply too high for a particular player. I agree that a sustained run of excellence -- call it a dynasty if you wish -- is much more likely when the farm system delivers inexpensive high-quality young talent season after season than if you're reliant on free agency and trades to build a roster.

But this year, there is an interesting dynamic at play, because the three aforementioned players -- Halladay, Gonzalez, and Martinez -- not only are elite performers, but each would fill a major need for the Sox.

Halladay, the ultimate high-quality workhorse, would give the Sox a virtually unbeatable Big Three at the top of the rotation while also greatly reducing the Sox' dependence on Smoltz, 42-year-old Tim Wakefield, or Brad Penny. (We're going to assume Daisuke Matsuzaka has pitched his last meaningful inning in 2009.) The price would be steep, but it might be worth it just to see the Sox enter a crucial late-season three-game set or a five-game ALDS series with a rotation of Halladay, Josh Beckett and Jon Lester.

Gonzalez? He would fit in so many ways -- he's 27, hit for power in spacious Petco, accumulates monster numbers away from San Diego, plays a slick first base, and would fill the offensive void the Red Sox rightly suspected they had when they pursued Mark Teixeira so vigorously in the offseason.

Playing nine innings while wondering whether Jonathan Papelbon will find his AWOL command in the second half . . .

1. Have to imagine the Red Sox front office's internal conversations about Roy Halladay went something like this: "Man, can you imagine a front three of him, Josh, Jon? Pretty close to unbeatable -- well, as long as we have enough offense to score three runs a game, anyway. Which reminds me of the real reason we're gathered here right now -- to figure out how to get the bat this team needs . . . " In other words, a little bit of daydreaming about acquiring the Blue Jays' 32-year-old workhorse/ace, followed by a healthy dose of reality. We'd all love to see Halladay on the Sox, including those who get paid to consider such things. But if Theo Epstein is going to spend his prospects on an upgrade for this year's club, a quality bat (Garrett Atkins need not apply) must come in return, particularly since you have to be skeptical that Mike Lowell can last the season on his gimpy hip. Halladay would make the rich richer. But another hitter would make them better.

2. I'll admit, there is some level of pinstripe paranoia lingering in the back of my mind regarding the supposed Halladay sweepstakes. I don't know if the Yankees could put together a package of prospects to J.P. Ricciardi's liking -- I imagine it would start with Phil Hughes and Austin Jackson -- but they certainly should try. It's noble of Brian Cashman to pretend that he is also following the Red Sox blueprint of trying to build a player development machine, but at some point the Yankees might be best served by admitting they are what they are -- a high-priced collection of big names, most of whom came up through another team's farm system. They should have made the Johan Santana deal two years ago, and they should deal for Halladay now. Here's hoping they're not smart enough to realize as much.

3. Burned a few minutes the other day trying come up with a list of Sox infielders through the years who had a stronger throwing arm than Nick Green. Rick Burleson was one -- he'd hold the ball just so he could show off his hose, unleashing a laser at the last possible second and nipping the runner by a half-step at first. (That also may explain why the Rooster blew out his rotator cuff.) Glenn Hoffman, who in retrospect might have been better served by taking the career path of his kid brother, was another. Who would you add to the list? And don't say Lugo.

4. I've never been happier for or more encouraged by a .224 hitter than I am for David Ortiz right now. He was batting .185 with one homer as of May 31, and the word excruciating doesn't begin to describe the start to his season. But since June 1, he's hit 10 homers and driven in 26 runs in 103 at-bats, and he really does look like his old self. Big Papi is Big Papi again, and it sure is nice to write those words.

5. Baseball is better when Pedro Martinez is involved, and so it's encouraging to hear that he's close to returning to the big leagues and inking a deal with the Philadelphia Phillies. I would have rather seen him end up with the Dodgers or Cubs -- I'm not sure that Williamsport-style bandbox the Phillies play in will treat him well -- but having him back in the majors where he belongs will be reward enough.

Catching up on the headlines I missed while lumbering around sunny Acadia . . .

In a small sort of way, Nomar Garciaparra owes his huge, heartwarming ovation last night to the man who replaced him in Boston and started at shortstop for the Oakland A's last night.

If Orlando Cabrera had pulled a Lugo upon coming over to the Sox in the shocking three-way deal that sent Nomar to the Cubs at the 2004 trading deadline, Boston fans may be considerably more bitter -- and less forgiving -- than they are nowadays, after a pair of championships.

But Cabrera proved a perfect fit on the 2004 champs, a dependable shortstop with the knack for a clutch hit, and so Nomar's bitter transgressions during that season are more easily forgotten.

That's not to suggest he didn't deserve the "Welcome Back, Nomahhhh!" moment last night. While the five-year gap between his acrimonious departure -- and by the way, it seems to me neither side has yet been completely honest about what went wrong here -- probably helped restore some of the misty watercolors to our memories, the truth is rather simple: If you watched Nomar during his heyday with the Sox, you can't help but have warm memories about his time here.

During the late 1990s -- particularly '99, when the Red Sox reached the ALCS with a roster made up of Pedro, Nomar, and 23 role players and Dan Duquette reclamation projects -- he might have been the most versatile and dangerous hitter in the game. As rookie in '97, he hit 30 home runs, and his hustling style and quirky mannerisms spawned a generation of mimicking Little Leaguers. In 1998, he batted .323 with 35 homers. His entire '99 campaign -- when he batted .357 to win the first of his back-to-back batting titles -- felt like Dustin Pedroia's torrid streak last summer. It seemed as if Nomar concluded every single trip to the plate with a line drive. In 2000, he batted .372, and for a time we thought he might make a run at .400 -- he was batting .403 after the first game of a doubleheader on July 20 -- which only seemed appropriate given that Ted Williams was counted among his admirers.

There's no need to rehash the infamous SI cover, the wrist injury, or how it all went wrong -- plenty of ink and bandwidth has been spent on that the past five years. Nomar Garciaparra was a deserving New England icon for the better part of a decade. Last night, it was nice to see the player and the city acknowledge their mutual appreciation of the good times.

Sure was nice of John Smoltz to pay homage to Daisuke Matsuzaka like that in the first inning Thursday night. No breaking-ball command, constantly falling behind in the count, giving up rocketed hits to the likes of Josh Bard . . . yep, it sure looked familiar. What was the posting fee for this joker, anyway?

All right, I'm a jerk. (And an unfunny one -- that one could have come straight from the Lenny Clarke Jokebook.) Tossing aside his gruesome first inning, the truth is that there was a lot to be encouraged about regarding John Smoltz's first Major League appearance for a team other than the Atlanta Braves. Save for that first inning, that is.

He touched 93 on the gun. His stuff and command got better as his pitch count grew. He finished with a flourish, whiffing the side in the fifth, and if your memory retained only the highlights of his final four innings, you're probably convinced this morning that this is someone who can help the Red Sox achieve their October goals. Perhaps best of all, he seems genuinely optimistic in his postgame comments, and Smoltz is one pitcher I trust to provide a truthful self-assessment.

I'm not sure if this was the case with you, but my expectations for him were probably a little too high entering last night's game. I wanted him to immediately disprove the humorless Ken Rosenthal's grim report that he's nothing more than a fourth or fifth starter. Sure, he's just parroting what a scout passed along, but must he drizzle on every parade?

I do admit that my opinion here is a long drive away from objective. Smoltz is and always will be one of my all-time favorites. During the Braves heyday in the early '90s, I probably saw more Atlanta games than Red Sox games since me and my college roomies couldn't afford NESN, and you didn't have to be a diehard, tomahawk-chopping Braves fan to appreciate watching Smoltz pitch every fifth day. Plus -- and this is a silly, nostalgic one, I know -- he's one of the few remaining big leaguers whom I can remember seeing pitch at The Ballpark in scenic Old Orchard Beach, Maine 20 or so years ago. Warm memories and sentiment probably affect my perspective more than they should.

So it was a little deflating to see the drama taken out of the event right away -- I guess even the sun shines on the Washington Nationals every now and then. But even though he ended his Boston debut with an ERA higher than Matsuzaka's, I like to think Red Sox fans are more sophisticated than to do the get-him-gone rain dance after one rough inning of a decorated pitcher's first start in a year. (Let me amend that: I like to think that on days I keep sports radio turned off.)

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free throwaway lines for you . . .

1. Listening to Red Sox player personnel director Mike Hazen discuss the future of last year's No. 1 pick, pitcher/shortstop Casey Kelly, during a radio interview with WJAB in Portland this weekend, I could help think back to a similar decision a previous regime had to make with Frankie Rodriguez. Like Kelly, Rodriguez was considered a premier prospect as a pitcher and as a shortstop. The Lou Gorman-era Red Sox chose to make him exclusively a pitcher. Based on his 5.53 ERA in parts of seven big-league seasons, it was not the correct choice. Kelly has been outstanding on the mound at two levels of Single A this season -- he's currently at Salem after going 6-1 with a Gibsonesque 1.12 ERA at Greenville -- but the Sox are intent on giving him a look at short after he reaches his innings limit. Not surprisingly, that's a more prudent approach to the pleasant dilemma than the one taken with Rodriguez 18 years ago.

2. I imagine Clay Buchholz is going to catch a lot of heat for his comments about his frustration at being with the PawSox, and maybe he should have kept his feelings to himself considering he is in Triple A because he was such a disaster during an extended stint with the Red Sox a season ago. But in another sense, I liked hearing that he's ticked, that he thinks he's "wasting bullets" in Triple A and should be in the big leagues. Not only because he's essentially right, but because he's going to be on a mission to prove he belongs once he gets to Boston -- and he will get to Boston well before the season is done. Just a little patience, kid.

3. All right, now that I'm officially aboard the Brad Penny bandwagon, here's my revised version regarding what the Sox should do with their pitching surplus once John Smoltz arrives: Put Daisuke Matsuzaka on the DL with any alleged injury that they can come up with. If he resists that, either bury him in the bullpen or work Smoltz in as a spot starter -- with those spots conveniently coming on days Dice-K is due to pitch. Actually, snark aside, I feel like the Sox will come up with a creative solution for this that doesn't involve a full six-man rotation (meaning Josh Beckett and Jon Lester will still pitch every fifth day), but one in which Smoltz, Penny, and Dice-K all get a decent share of work. How this can be done, I have no idea, but that's why they pay John Farrell the big bucks, right?

4. The coronation of King Kobe was too much for me last night -- I lunged for the clicker with about five minutes remaining before I could discover if he now gets a throne to match Phil Jackson's.

5. David Ortiz, over the last 14 days. Thirty-eight plate appearances, 33 at-bats, 3 homers, 11 RBIs, .303 batting average, 1.001 OPS. So I ask you: Is it too soon to say he's back? Because it is very tempting, particularly after his Papi Classic bomb off A.J. Burnett.

Just for fun as we head into the weekend, eight surprises of the Red Sox season through 60 of 162 . . .

1. Nick Green's emergence as a viable stop-gap at shortstop. Don't you think It must have been fun for Green to play such a significant role in two of the Red Sox' three victories over the Yankees this week? He spent the entire 2008 season with the Yankees' Triple A club in Scranton and was released after the season, with Joe Girardi deciding that Cody Ransom was a better player. He's not, but you can understand why Girardi wasn't sold on Green -- mainly, that he's erratic defensively. But he's a pretty capable hitter -- as Eck noted last night, he can crush a fastball -- and he has an above-average arm, and those assets alone make him a useful utility infielder. And he gets bonus points for playing his best when the Sox needed him most, early in the season when they had no other options at short. He's clearly impressed Tito to the point that the manager has all but packed Julio Lugo's luggage for him, and his signing has proved to be one of more fortuitous acquisitions of the offseason. Hard not to root for a guy like that.

2. David Ortiz's disastrous start. It's been the subplot of the season so far, but you know what? I've already spent too many words this season writing about what was wrong with him. No one wants to rehash it again, especially with the corner about to be turned. He's looked like his old self lately, with three homers in the last five games and more hard hit balls this week than he had in the previous two months. So let's just enjoy what's going right. Big Papi isn't quite back, but it sure looks like he's on his way. And those, my friends, are words I enjoy writing.

3. Ramon Ramirez's dominance out of the 'pen. Well, except for Wednesday night, anyway, when he served up home runs to Johnny Damon and Mark Teixeira and proved that he actually is human and not some unhittable android spawn of Mariano Rivera. (Too bad. I was getting hopeful.) But with Wednesday's hiccup aside, the 27-year-old former Royal has been nothing short of phenomenal, posting a 0.90 WHIP, 1.86 ERA, and limiting opponents to 17 hits in 29 innings over 28 appearances. And the praise for Ramirez extends to virtually all of his partners in the bullpen, which is the deepest and most versatile in baseball -- and perhaps in recent Red Sox history. Yes, Theo Epstein has figured out how to pull together a bullpen. Now if he could just come up with a shortstop worth keeping.

4. Daisuke Matsuzaka's maddening . . . well, everything. There's probably something to the belief that the World Baseball Classic took an unnecessary toll on Dice-K's arm when he should have been in Ft. Myers gradually preparing for the season. But I don't know . . . it just seems like there's something more going on here. He's had a stint on the DL and a successful rehab in the minors, and still, he's an enigmatic mess when he's on the mound. He's struck out 29 batters in 27 innings, which suggests his stuff is quality . . . yet his ERA is a Kevin Jarvis-like 7.33, his WHIP is 2.11, and he's allowed 44 hits and five home runs. I'm not convinced that Dice-K's spot in the rotation should be ceded to John Smoltz or Clay Buchholz, but a solution to whatever ails him needs to be discovered pretty soon.

It's obvious that Major League Baseball is trying to package its first-year player draft as an event, much like the NFL and NBA. But it's not going to catch on for one reason: We rarely know much about these college and high school prospects, save for the occasional phenomenon like Stephen Strasburg, on the day they are chosen. Only their families, classmates, and Keith Law have seen them play to any meaningful degree. And we won't ever get to know the majority of them; most will quietly fade out of baseball after a few years in the minors. Only a fortunate few establish themselves in the big leagues.

No, the draft is not an event that can be judged in the present. You, me, and the ghost of Branch Rickey have no idea if Reymond Fuentes, this year's top pick who weighs 165 pounds and is all of 18 years old, will ever contribute to the Boston Red Sox. The draft is something that can only be judged years later -- and even then, you have to take into account that the most rewarding selections are sometimes more of a product of luck than skill.

As evidence, -- or maybe just for entertainment purposes -- we offer you the five best and five worst No. 1 picks in franchise history since the advent of the draft in 1965. Some notable and not-so-notable names who were selected in the same range as these stars and stiffs are mentioned in certain instances.

Playing nine innings while thinking A-Rod might want to bring some earplugs with him . . .

1. Feels like the Sox-Yankees! again, doesn't it? Maybe that's not the most elegant way of phrasing it, but you get the point -- the headlines will be bold, the games will be must-see, the buildup and tension will be palpable. It's not quite like the old days -- and by old days, of course I mean pre-2004, when the Yankees usually laughed and the Red Sox loathed after the final out -- and thank goodness for that. But there is an intriguing element to this series that, at least for me, hasn't existed for a while, probably since this point in the calendar a year ago. I can't be the only one who finds April and May meetings between the rivals to be premature. Red Sox-Yankees matchups are enhanced by the context of what has already taken place in that season. They need to get into their schedule, find their flow and find out who they are, before they test themselves against each other. Now, roughly a third of the way through the schedule, we have a pretty good sense of both of the teams, and the consensus seems to be this: While flawed, they are the two best clubs in the American League, and this three-game set will foreshadow some bigger matchups to come, perhaps even into October. I'm looking forward to Beckett-Burnett. I'm looking forward to whether Mark Teixeira hears more boos than A-Rod. I'm looking forward to medium ground balls eluding Derek Jeter to his left. The Red Sox and Yankees are going toe to toe at Fenway, and this time it feels just like it should.

2. I'm weary of the Dice-K experience right now -- tired of talking about it, tired of writing about it, and damn sure tired of watching it. You get the sense Terry Francona is too, given that he had Justin Masterson up in the third inning yesterday. Two-plus seasons into his Red Sox career -- and two successful seasons, we should note out of fairness -- it remains a mystery as to why he takes such an aggravating, passive approach to pitching. Adding to the frustration is the realization that he will never be anything more than what he is right now, that his talent and potential were overhyped upon his arrival stateside. Or, as a buddy of mine put it more succinctly after taking in yesterday's game at Fenway: It's now safe to say that there is no gyroball.

3. I don't understand the faction of Sox fans who are reluctant to trade Brad Penny in a reasonable deal. He's pitched well lately -- a nice stroke of timing for Theo Epstein -- but his statistics are still mediocre (1.60 WHIP, 77 hits in 60 innings, 82 ERA+, he has a reputation for melting down when the going gets tough (see: Kinsler, Ian; Lugo, Julio), and there are conceivably better options waiting in the wings (I would rather have John Smoltz on the mound in October, and I'd rather have Clay Buchholz on the mound right now.) Penny can help some teams, but the way he will most help the Red Sox is by bringing a piece in trade that they really need.

4. So much for the Verducci Effect, huh? Jon Lester, last two starts: 15 innings, 5 hits, 2 earned runs, 5 walks, 23 strikeouts . . . and his last start was as dominating a performance I can recall by a Red Sox lefthander. (Sorry, Mel Parnell was slightly before my time.) Lester needs to go 11-1 to match last year's record. (Yes, W-L records are often the product of luck and other variables . . . but still.) Considering how he's throwing the ball lately, he's entirely capable of such a run.

5. It would be cool if David Ortiz's eye drops could somehow increase his bat speed, but uncalled-for cheap shots aside, I'm sticking to my statement from last Friday's chat: He has looked better lately. Better swings, better balance, better results. The next step is to prove his progress is real and sustainable, and I can think of no better team for Big Papi to make his case against than the one the Sox will be facing tomorrow through Thursday. Wishful thinking? Maybe. But we've seen miracles out of the man before.

It's rarely my intent to accentuate the negative when it comes to sports. But I admit that too often I fall into the trap of writing about what's wrong rather than what's right, even when things are going well for our local teams.

The temptation is to blame that on the fact that I'm required to listen to WEEI far beyond what is considered a healthy amount. But even my exposure to their sky-is-falling caterwauling is really no excuse. While it's easy to opine on David Ortiz's sad decline or the black hole at shortstop, the reality is that we have it ridiculously good right now.

The Sox are 29-22, have their deepest pitching staff in recent memory, and will very likely improve as the season progresses once general manager Theo Epstein assesses their needs and patches the small number of holes. Roughly a third of the way through the schedule, this is shaping up to be an entertaining and possibly rewarding season. So with that considered, I figured I'd stay in my sanguine mood and scribble down an optimistic thought about every member of the Red Sox.

In a couple of cases, it was not so easy . . .

The starting nine:

Dustin Pedroia: Leading off with an easy one here. Not even a snide jackal like me can say something negative about Pedroia. His knack for concluding just about every at-bat with a line drive and the fans' universal admiration for him reminds me of the early days of Nomar. And yes, that is a good thing.

J.D. Drew: Love him at the top of the order, where his gift for getting on-base is of the most benefit. For all of the easy jokes about his fragility and demeanor, I have to admit I've really come to appreciate his all-around game. Great baserunner, very good outfielder, and he can carry the team when he's on one of his tears.

Kevin Youkilis: Youk is arguably the best hitter in the American League right now, he's become the classic No. 3 hitter, and with his 1B/3B defensive versatility, you'd be hard-pressed to find a more valuable player in the league. Any more questions?

Jason Bay: He's been such a perfect fit and productive slugger since coming over at the trade deadline last July that I hope we get to see him launch rockets in the direction of the Green Monster for, oh, the next five or so years. (Was that too subtle? Yes? Okay, then: SIGN HIM THEO!!!! SIGN HIM YESTERDAY!!!)

Playing nine innings while preparing to eat a heaping helping of crow should Jason Varitek's redemption tour continue . . .

1. Sixth? Seems about right for poor Papi, and his season debut (1 for 3, double, walk) in a spot in the batting order that has been unfamiliar to him since May 2004 was a small success. To be honest, though, I wouldn't be averse to Terry Francona dropping him to seventh or lower since he's still in a prime run-producing position. Tito clearly has more respect for Ortiz than that, and you can't fault the manager for giving one of his most beloved and historically dependable players every opportunity to come out of this tailspin. I just wish I could convince myself it's going to happen. While it was a warm moment, it soon became quite clear that Papi's lone home run this season came off an overwhelmed pitcher, Brett Cecil, who had no business being on that mound, and Ortiz's subsequent slide afterward was confirmation that all was not solved by the one home run. He's still struggling to hit a decent fastball, his mechanics at the plate are a tangled mess, and he looks -- justifiably -- as if he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. It's like the Seattle respite never happened. For now, all we can do is cross our fingers and hope against hope that Papi finds his mojo again. Last night was a baby step. It would be nice if Kevin Slowey would play the role of Brett Cecil tonight.

2. If Ortiz doesn't come out of this, I'm still on board with the idea of acquiring Victor Martinez from Cleveland if the cost isn't too prohibitive -- and I do not consider Michael Bowden as too much to sacrifice for a legitimate middle-of-the-order hitter who can catch and play first base. I'm also curious -- as I mentioned on my Twitter feed the other day -- if the Sox might be able to put together a package to acquire Adrian Gonzalez from San Diego. While his contract is appealing to the Padres -- in March 2007 he signed a four-year, $9.5 million with a $5.5 million team option for 2011 -- Gonzalez is a player who has appealed to the Sox since he was buried behind Mark Teixeira and Hank Blalock in Texas, and he might be one they could be willing to overpay for in terms of prospects. Admittedly, this is all speculation, and it would probably only happen if (or when) the surprising Padres (23-22) stumble, but on the surface it makes a lot of sense.

3. At this point, I'm almost wondering whether the Sox should track down Pokey Reese and stick him at short. Sure, he'll be 36 in June, hasn't played in the majors since 2004, and would as usual struggle to hit his weight . . . but at least you know he'd catch the bleepin' ball, which makes him an immediate upgrade over Julio Lugo and Nick Green. Actually, all facetiousness aside, this isn't much different than suggesting the Sox should acquire ancient Omar Vizquel, who is somehow hitting .372 for Texas. And I'd also take him.

4. I'm not particularly concerned about Jonathan Papelbon giving up two-run homers on back to back outings on Saturday and Monday. One came on a poorly located pitch to a hitter, Omir Santos, who was obviously sitting on a fastball and got a fat one, and the other was hit by Joe Mauer, who is so hot right now that he could probably go 3 for 4 with a double and a homer against vintage Koufax. What does concern me is Papelbon's increased walk rate, which is apparently the result of altered mechanics. He has three more bases on balls this season than he had all of 2008 -- and that's in 48.1 fewer innings. His strikeout-to-walk ratio last year was a ridiculous 9.63-to-1. This year, it stands at 2.18. Given that his first three seasons as a closer stack up with any pitcher's in history, it seems to me there was no reason whatsoever to tweak his delivery or his approach unless the Sox have more concerns about the long-term condition of his shoulder than they are letting on. Is there any other reason to mess with such a good thing?

5. The Ramon Ramirez/Coco Crisp deal with the Royals is looking like one of those rare win-win swaps. Ramirez -- who remains something of a mystery to me; do we know anything about this guy? -- has been absolutely lights-out for the Sox, with a 0.74 ERA and a Pedro-like 0.74 WHIP in 24.1 innings over 22 appearances. Although Crisp is hitting just .236 for the Royals -- he has an interesting explanation for this on his Twitter feed (second item down) -- his .751 OPS is the same as it was last season with the Sox, and his sensational defense in center field prompted Zack Greinke to suggest that his approach on the mound is to get the batters to hit the ball in Coco's direction. Not a bad policy, as we learned so memorably around here in 2007.

More than any player in franchise history, David Ortiz taught even the most cynical Red Sox fans that refusing to give up sometimes results in the sweetest rewards.

So the inclination is to resist giving up on him. The man deserves that much, at least under normal circumstances.

Of course, there's a particularly cruel catch here: The circumstances are no longer normal; they are dire. And believing in the artist formerly known as Big Papi has become an increasingly difficult task even for the most optimistic Red Sox fan.

I'm sure you require no in-depth recap of his sad capers through the season's first 35 games, which is cool since I don't particularly feel like giving you one. So here's the Reader's Digest condensed version: He's batting .208. His next home run this spring will be his first. He's been wandering between lost and hopeless all season. It's a challenge to recall more than two or three times when he has hit the ball hard all season. He's not getting better, but he might be getting worse. Any further detail would just be piling on.

The tipping point came during yesterday's aggravating 12-inning loss to the Angels in which Ortiz had one of the most dismal offensive performances in the history of the Red Sox. He went 0 for 7, stranding a club-record 12 baserunners, which I'm fairly sure is more than A-Rod has left on base in all of his tense Octobers combined. In the aftermath, a dejected Ortiz said the words that many of us feel guilty for thinking:

"I'm sorry, guys. I just don't feel like talking right now," he told the media. "Just put down, 'Papi stinks.' "

It's hard to deny his sad sentiments, though one can't fault him for not wanting to answer questions right now -- especially the three most difficult ones:

Why is this happening now? What caused it? And is there any hope of recovering from this?

Perhaps he doesn't hold the answers. Perhaps he's as puzzled as the rest of us. Perhaps there are details he would prefer not to share. But because his career has devolved into one enormous question mark, we are left with nothing but some common facts and a heaping helping of speculation to try and solve this mystery.

Maybe effects of last summer's wrist injury, or the various other ailments he's endured the past couple of years (knees, shoulder) have conspired to slow him down. Maybe this is another example, like Mo Vaughn and Cecil Fielder before him, of an enormous, one-dimensional slugger losing his bat speed overnight. Maybe he's older than his listed age of 33 (he signed with the Mariners in 1992 at the age of 16, wink-wink). Or maybe it's something more sinister, something that has irreparably damaged the reputations of so many of his power-hitting peers.

A few other discoveries, factoids and considerations regarding your favorite nitwit blogger's commissioned gallery on the hardest throwing pitchers in Red Sox history . . .

Some of the best Red Sox pitchers of my lifetime haven't been true power pitchers, even though they did compile decent strikeout totals: Bruce Hurst, who is on my short list of all-time favorite Red Sox, wasn't overpowering -- he had the killer curve and a dependable splitter. The Eck was a flamethrower during his wild youth in Cleveland -- as he would say, he brought the cheese -- but he added a little finesse to his repertoire when he came to the Sox. Luis Tiant had 47 different pitches and 33 arm angles, and all of the tricks in his bag made his fastball look quicker than it was. (I suddenly have the urge to start chanting "LOOO-ie, LOOO-IE." Never a bad thing.)

We gave Knucksie Wakefield more consideration as a flamethrower . . . . . . than we did John Burkett, Frank Castillo, and Abe Alvarez (a.k.a. Slow, Slower, and Slowest).

You old timers need to fill in the gaps: I'm 39 years old. I never saw Jim Lonborg (except as a Phillie), Earl Wilson, Ray Culp or Bill Monbouquette. To me, Cy Young is a trophy, and Lefty Grove might as well be a figment of Ken Burns's imagination. So tell me, pops: Which Sox pitchers from before, say, 1975 deserved a mention on our list?

Alan Embree could bring it . . . and then, he couldn't: After coming over from the San Diego Padres late in the 2002 season, the lefthander whiffed 43 in 33.1 innings for the Sox, for a K-rate of 11.8 per nine innings. In 2003, his K-rate dropped to 7.4 . . . then 6.4 in 2004 . . . then he completely fell apart in 2005, though his strikeout rate did climb slightly. A Boston.com commenter recalled seeing Embree touch 100 m.p.h. at one point. I'm going to guess that was in 2002. For the record, his K-rate with the Rockies this season is 4.0. Kudos to one of the heroes of the '04 postseason for hanging on this long.

Some legendary power pitchers have thrown their final innings in a Sox uniform: Tom Seaver '86, Bret Saberhagen '01, David Cone '01, The Eck '98, Eric Gagne '07 (wait, you mean he found another sucker after that abomination?). Juan Marichal was with the Sox in '74, though he gave it one more shot with the Dodgers in '75. I imagine we'll add John Smoltz to this list in a year or two. Or three. Four?

Since everyone and his 6-year-old has weighed in on Manny Being Busted the last couple of days, it was tempting just to sadly shake my head at his mutilated legacy and let the story pass without comment. Maybe you'll wish I'd done just that.

But as one of the last of the Manny Mohicans here in New England -- yeah, I still thought well of him right up until the moment I saw the "Breaking News: Manny Ramirez Suspended 50 Games For Doping" headline flash into my Twitter feed yesterday -- I figure I might as well throw in my 24 cents' worth. Not only for the sake of closure, but because there is one aspect in particular with this story that has me as frustrated as Big Papi after swinging through an 89 miles-per-hour fastball:

It is ludicrous to suggest that yesterday's sad revelation has any bearing whatsoever on the Red Sox' world championships in 2004 and 2007. Those titles are not tainted, no matter what the hypocritical Yankees fan in the next cubicle over tries to claim. To even suggest as much is to admit that you not only have a personal agenda in this (a deep dislike or jealousy of the Red Sox, for starters) or a complete lack of perspective regarding what will be recorded as baseball's Steroid Era.

1995 Atlanta Braves: David Justice

1996 New York Yankees: Andy Pettitte

1997 Florida Marlins: Gary Sheffield, Kevin Brown

1998 New York Yankees: Chuck Knoblauch, Andy Pettitte

1999 New York Yankees: Roger Clemens, Chuck Knoblauch, Andy Pettitte, Jason Grimsley

2000 New York Yankees: Jose Canseco, Roger Clemens, Chuck Knoblauch, Andy Pettitte, Jason Grimsley, David Justice

2001 Arizona Diamondbacks: Matt Williams

2002 Los Angeles Angels: Troy Glaus

2003 Florida Marlins: Pudge Rodriguez (named in Canseco's book).

2004 Boston Red Sox: Manny Ramirez

So there you go. If the Sox' titles are tainted, then so is every single World Series in a 10-year stretch up until their victory. Especially the Yankees' last two championships. (I realize it's not entirely fair to pinpoint Justice and Pettitte, whose reported transgressions happened later than the mid-'90s. Then again, you know there are countless players on these rosters yet to be exposed. The point stands.)

I'll repeat what I said in today's chat -- juicing was the way of the world during that era. Yes, it was sad . . . yes, it was shameful . . . yes, the entire scope of it becomes broader with each passing year. And yes, it has left a stain on our cherished game that isn't going to be removed for decades, not until baseball is cleaned up beyond all doubt and judgment has been passed all of the Bondses and Clemenses when it comes to the legitimacy of their Hall of Fame candidacies. The only mildly amusing thing about any of this is that A-Rod's name doesn't appear on the above list. Contrary to what your mom always told you, sometimes cheaters do win. He just doesn't happen to be one of them.

If you were blind or naive enough to believe for a moment that those 2003-04 Red Sox teams -- two of the most productive offenses in baseball history -- accomplished all of their feats of strength with a lineup that was entirely clean in the midst of the Steroid Era, then let me ask you this: When was the last time you saw a unicorn? If there's any solace to come from this, it's that I'm no longer ticked at Juicin' Jason Giambi for hitting two homers off Pedro in Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS. We got our revenge. The slate is clean, even if the players weren't.

As someone who greatly enjoyed Manny's seven-plus seasons in Boston, well, of course yesterday's news was disappointing, and not just because it gave a lifetime's worth of ammo for the loathsome bleaters whose personal venom toward him has little to do with baseball.

The first thought after it became clear he was not taking something for, as one hilariously erroneous report suggested, off-the-field performance: When did he actually begin using? Circumstantial evidence suggests it was sometime after the 2007 season, when he hit just 20 home runs, looked like a 35-year-old slugger who was losing his bat speed, and was obsessed about getting one more jackpot in free agency. But then, the drug he tested positive for -- human chorionic gonadotropin -- was something a steroid user takes to restore his testosterone after a cycle. It sure seems to me that it was nothing a novice would have the knowledge to use.

I suppose we'll never know the truth. If Manny told the whole story -- when he started, why he started, what he took -- he would be the first superstar to do so. But that's not his nature -- he'll go underground can while Scott Boras looks for another ridiculous way to spin it. Sadly, we all know that pathetic routine by now.

I do have to admit -- maybe I was naive, too, to a degree -- that I didn't think Manny was a juicer. His swing is as gorgeous as a righthanded hitter's gets, with a cat's balance and no wasted motion. He isn't freakishly huge. He's had a number of phenomenal seasons, but not one ridiculous outlier like Bonds or Mark McGwire. I thought it was his natural talent and his dedication to his craft that made him the best hitter I've ever seen.

Silly me, I even bought this anecdote, written by Gordon Edes and published in the March 20, 2005 Sunday Globe.

Orlando Cabrera laughed at the notion that Manny Ramirez ever experimented with steroids. "My brother played with Manny in Cleveland," he said. "And Manny hated needles. Every spring, when they took their physicals, Manny would take off, and four, five guys would chase him down. He just hated needles. There's no way he would have ever juiced himself. He just worked hard. When we go on the road, Manny would be out of his room at 8 o'clock, going to the gym. And he practiced hard. He went out to Fenway Park many times to learn how to play the Wall, and he never -- never -- skipped going to the cage."

I always thought of that story whenever one of my buddies or readers speculated about Manny and PEDs. Maybe it was true then. Maybe something changed. Maybe Manny did start doping just recently. Or maybe Manny duped the Cabrera family.

He certainly duped the rest of us.

In this era, that's par for the course.

Playing nine innings while hoping for some more at-bats . . .

1. Knowing Terry Francona, he'll give the disconcertingly discombobulated David Ortiz anywhere from another month to June 2014 to solve his troubles at the plate. You know I believe Tito's the ideal manager for the Sox, but if he has a flaw it's that he gives too much leeway to his struggling veterans. So there's probably a better chance of Francona hiring Jay Payton as a bench coach than there is of him dumping Papi from the No. 3 spot anytime soon. But the question to you is this: How far would you drop Papi? Fifth? Seventh? Tenth? Sixth seems about right to me, though it will mess up the lefty-righty alternation through the heart of the lineup. I wouldn't be opposed to J.D. Drew batting anywhere from first to third in the lineup, either -- his finickiness at the plate could be more of an asset at the top of the order, where he'd see a lot of pitches ahead of Pedroia, Youkilis and Bay. Anyway, tell me your thoughts in the comments -- should Tito stick with Papi in the three-hole longer? And if he moves him, what does the new lineup look like?

2. I don't want to believe this powerless start suggests the end is near Papi. I just can't bring myself to give up on the player who gave Sox fans the faith to believe in their team when the skies were darkest. I hope that a visit to the Yankee Stadium pinball machine cures everything that ails him. But it's getting increasingly more difficult to find a counter argument to his feeble numbers that is based in anything more than blind hope. Ortiz, as you probably know, has no home runs in 114 plate appearances entering tonight's game. In Jim Rice's in famous last, lost season in 1989, he had three home runs in 228 plate appearances -- yet he hit all three in his first 73 trips to the plate, so his start power-wise was actually better than Papi's is now. The case is similar for George Scott, another Sox bopper who suffered a sudden decline in bat speed and power. In 1979, his last with the Sox, he hit four home runs in 175 plate appearances before being dealt to the Royals in June for outfielder Tom Poquette. But Boomer's four homers came in his first 137 plate appearances through mid-May, and he was batting .250 with a .733 OPS after 32 games. Try as we might to believe that Papi's redemption is just a mighty swing away, it is beyond worrisome to think that his start to this season is discernibly worse than two of the more memorable career collapses in recent Sox history.

3. The loyal lieutenants in the Tek Army probably won't believe me given my history of actually recognizing his flaws, but I felt bad for him yesterday as the Go-Go Rays ran a relay around the basepaths. Johnny Bench in his prime would have had a hard time on some of those swipes. You don't need to tell me that Varitek has been average at best at throwing out basestealers the last few years, and given the surprising struggles of the Sox' starting rotation, it's hardly a surprise that there's not a lot of chatter about his magical game-calling skills these days. But overall, given the logical expectations that he'd continue to decline, this has been an extremely impressive start to the season for the 37-year-old, who looks considerably quicker from the left side of the plate. Yes, Carl Crawford and his fast friends made Varitek look bad Sunday. But he's looked good for most of the season, and he deserves to be acknowledged for that. Especially from someone who didn't think it was possible.

4. While wishing the RemDawg a heartfelt speedy and complete recovery, we have to admit we're looking forward to the Don Orsillo-Dennis Eckersley pairing in the NESN broadcast booth over the next couple of days. The one and only Eck is terrific at his usual studio gig because he's candid -- almost unfiltered -- with his opinions, and it will be interesting to see how that translates to doing color commentary. If I recall correctly, one previous time when he was pinch hitting for Remy in the booth, he said that the opposing pitcher -- I believe it was Glendon Rusch -- "doesn't belong in the major leagues." That's just hurtful. Hopefully he gets to say that about a few Yankees over the next couple of days.

5. The Red Sox need a starting shortstop. Maybe Jed Lowrie will be the answer, maybe he won't, though I'm beginning to wonder if he's on the Tim Naehring career path. But this much is certain, and frankly, it has been for more than two seasons now: There has to be a better alternative out there than Julio Lugo. There has to be. I'd feel bad for judging him after a small sample-size, except that this is the same maddeningly erratic player we've seen in his two previous seasons. He's done little in his Sox career to justify Theo Epstein's odd fascination with him, and I don't expect that to change in his time here. It's time to admit the mistake and find a legitimate alternative. Enough's enough.

If you don't mind, I would like to use one of the numerous mea culpas I plan on issuing this season and apologize for suggesting before this weekend that there was little reason to be geeked up about regarding a Sox-Yankees matchup in April. After watching, in no particular order, a steal of home by Jacoby Ellsbury, a ninth-inning comeback against Mariano Rivera, the complete meltdown of a mediocre-at-best Yankees bullpen, impressive turns in key relief situations by neophytes Hunter Jones and Michael Bowden, a grand slam by Jason (Ain't Dead Yet) Varitek, a six-RBI game by the remarkably rejuvenated Mike Lowell, and countless other compelling plays, performances, twists and turns during an three-game sweep in which the Red Sox beat the Yankees with, in succession, a comeback, a 16-run outburst, and a terrific pitching performance . . . well, let's just say I'll never underestimate the entertainment value of a Sox-Yankees series again, no matter when it happens to appear on the calendar. That, as Chris Farley would say, was awesome.

A few other Sox notes leftover from a wildly fun weekend . . .

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How fun was it to watch Yankees fans finally get the full spectrum of the A.J. Burnett experience Saturday? It begins with a couple of innings where he looks like the most unhittable pitcher in the game, a Cy Young candidate to be sure. Then he gets a big lead, his mind inevitably wanders, he begins looking at the pretty butterfly frolicking in the grass when he should be concentrating on retiring Jason Varitek with the bases loaded, and before you know it the lead is gone and Joe Girardi is suddenly looking like he just had a lunch of Pop Rocks and Pepsi. Of course, it would be even easier to snicker at Burnett's performance if his Boston counterpart, Josh Beckett, didn't put up a virtually identical pitching line Saturday.

* * *

Purely in terms of what he provides as a baseball player, I like J.D. Drew better than I ever liked Trot Nixon, and yes, I write that sentence knowing that ol' Dirty Helmet still has a large, vocal, irrational, and caps-lock-addicted following. But even a Drew fan has to admit, his reaction to Ellsbury's swipe of home as it was unfolding was somewhere between bizarre and comical -- there were something like 36,000 people in the ballpark last night, and 35,999 of them had a more animated reaction to the play than Drew, who looked like a guy following his wife's orders to sweep the porch. Upon watching Ellsbury stumble headfirst into home, even Don Orsillo reportedly cheered from the dock in the NESN basement where his batteries are recharged nightly. Yet Drew, who had the best view in the house, couldn't even muster a high-five, let alone a Jeterian fist pump. I'm not saying it's wrong that Drew is on such an even-keel -- it probably has something to do with his knack for delivering in big moments. But it certainly is sort of weird. The guy just does not get excited about baseball.

. . . are the ones you don't make.

All right, so that's a textbook case of a baseball cliche, right there with "We gotta play it one game at a time," and anything else Crash Davis tried to impart on Nuke LaLoosh in "Bull Durham."

Still, it stands as the consensus conclusion among Red Sox fans when considering how close the club came to acquiring Alex Rodriguez from the Texas after the 2003 season. The deal would have sent Manny Ramirez and a promising Single A lefthander named Jon Lester to the Rangers, while the Sox also would have sent incumbent shortstop Nomar Garciaparra to the White Sox for outfielder Magglio Ordonez.

The deal collapsed because the players' union wouldn't permit the salary restructuring the Sox wanted in A-Rod's deal (it wouldn't be the last time Gene Orza whiffed on A-Rod's behalf). You know how it played out from there:

Incumbent Yankees third baseman Aaron Boone blew out his knee playing hoops. The Yankees swooped in, convinced A-Rod to move to third to accommodate his best old ex-friend Derek, and sat back with that familiar feeling of smug satisfaction, having pulled one over on the Red Sox yet again.

At least until . . . well, until A-Rod was exposed as a throat-clutching, narcissistic master of self-inflicted melodrama. To put it nicely.

Anyway -- yes, we are getting to the point here -- we bring this up right now not only because the Yankees are in town tonight, with someone named Cody "Sub-Replacement Level" Ransom at third base in place of the ailing A-Rod, but because our old friend Gordon Edes played the "What might have been" game today over at Yahoo! Sports, writing whimsically about what might have been had the A-Rod-to-the-Sox deal actually happened in the winter of 2003.

Cleverly, he took an approach slightly different from the one you or I might envision. He writes it as if it would have worked out for the Sox. Alex Rodriguez, beloved teammate and Red Sox savior? We all know ol' Gordo is a remarkably talented writer, but who knew he had such an imaginative eye for fiction:

There was never any question that A-Rod would fit in with the Red Sox. Not after the first day of spring training, when [Kevin] Millar, wearing A-Rod's uniform jersey and with a sock stuffed in his protective cup, pantomimed A-Rod's home run swing, then stuck a cream pie in his face. "You're with the idiots now,'' Millar said.

The tension of Garciaparra brooding at his locker over his contract, or the uncertainty of whether Manny would feel like playing on a given day, was gone. A-Rod basked in the attention, but surrounded by outsized personalities like [David] Ortiz and [Johnny] Damon, Pedro Martinez and [Curt] Schilling, there was plenty to go around. Ortiz was like a big brother, Millar the constant needler. And when A-Rod approached Schilling about working together on the charity dear to the pitcher's heart, Schill was won over.

Yeah, either that, or it would have been the biggest collision of swollen egos since A-Rod and his reflection first spied themselves in the mirror.

. . . on some certain pinstriped individuals who will be playing the villain's role at Fenway this weekend. You might know some of them by name:

Jorge Posada, C: His most similar player statistically in baseball history? Javy Lopez. Second-most similar: Mike Lowell. So he's like one of the most loathed Red Sox players of the past five years as well as one of the most admired. Aren't numbers fun?

Mark Teixeira, 1B/Designated Phony: I hope Boston's favorite duplicitous Yankee doesn't bring his wife/stage manager to Boston with him this weekend. It could get ugly. Not his wife, I mean. The scene. Just to be clear there. One more thing: BOOOO!! BOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Robinson Cano, 2B: I'll Admit It, Part 1: Entering the 2008 season, if you had told me that either Cano or Dustin Pedroia would win the AL MVP, I'd have muttered something about "damned Yankees" and again cursed Cano for standing up the Sox when they were about to offer him a contract as an amateur in the Dominican Republic. Glad to have swung and missed on that one.

Derek Jeter, SS: See, this is the kind of respect he commands: The pigeons at Yankee Stadium refuse to use him for target practice even though he hasn't actually moved since he was planted at shortstop since the new place opened.

Cody Ransom, 3B: A poor man's Clay Bellinger. If someone happens to Gillooly a rapidly rehabbing A-Rod in the hip in the coming days, here's your chief suspect.

Johnny Damon, LF I'll Admit It, Part 2: He's still a sneaky-excellent offensive player, and I still like the guy a lot, even after he became a "traitor" and agreed to the requisite Yankee shave-'n'-neutering in exchange for a couple extra million. Hey, some of dudes in the Continental Army probably still admired Benedict Arnold too, you know? (Or something like that. The last history lesson I got came from Jack Edwards, okay?)

Brett Gardner, CF: The Yankees are still trying to pass him off as a viable option in center field, but I'm pretty sure his future will be embarrassingly similar to that of the Patron Saint of Fast White Outfielders Who Haven't Hit A Home Run Since Tee-Ball. Yeah, you, Tyner. Anyway, Melky Cabrera is about to steal his job.

Nick Swisher, RF: While he's swinging the bat well and was a savvy buy-low pickup by Brian Cashman, the Yankees might be better off if they made Damaso Marte their starting right fielder and Swisher the lefty relief specialist.

Hideki Matsui, DH: Still think he can hit. Not sure the Yankees do, though.

A day game at lovely (if drenched) Fenway Park. A doubleheader (weather-permitting, anyway). A five-game Red Sox winning streak (whoops, make that six).

Nope, we've got none of usual grievances to air here. All -- okay, most -- is well with the Red Sox. Funny how long ago that 2-6 start seems now. Sure, it was a bumpy beginning, but this is the well-rounded, winning team we expected to see coming out of Fort Myers.

With all of the good vibes around the Red Sox at the moment, it seems only appropriate to get in the spirit and accentuate the positive. So here's a look at a half-dozen players who have made a good impression in the season's early days . . .

Justin Masterson: Here's an intriguing question for you: What's the ceiling for this talented and versatile 24-year-old righthander? Workhorse, 225-inning starter good for 16-20 wins per year? Old-fashioned rubber-armed relief ace who puts out all the fires before the closer arrives on the scene for his one inning of glory? Dependable No. 2 starter? Future closer? Hard-throwing, easier-living version of Derek Lowe? At this stage, I'm not sure, but I do know this: He is a tremendous weapon for Terry Francona in whichever role he chooses to use him, and I'm not going to be surprised by anything he accomplishes. I mean . . . 96 miles per hour, with a sick slider and that motion? What an asset to have. You could tell me he's going to lead the Sox in wins this year and I'd probably nod and say, "I can see that."

Kevin Youkilis: He finished third in the AL MVP race, won the Hank Aaron Award as the top offensive performer in his league, and yet he's still something of an afterthought, at least outside of Youuuuuuuuukkk-lovin' Boston. Part of it, I suppose, is logical -- he nearly doubled his career high in home runs last season at age 29, and a slight regression toward his previous norm is possible. But given how he has started -- .462, four homers, 12 RBIs as of the seventh inning today -- perhaps an enjoyable encore is in the making. Anyway, at least David Ortiz has stopped griping about having no protection. It's a start.

Mike Lowell: I can't be the only one who still cringes whenever he has to lunge or dive or do anything that gives you flashbacks to him nobly/hopelessly trying to play through his hip injury last postseason while looking like an extra from the "Night of the Living Dead." But while he's running like he borrowed Doug Mirabelli's legs, the rest as been remarkably encouraging. He's been as steady as always at third base, and he came into today's early game on an absolute tear at the plate, batting .421 with two homers and 11 RBIs in the past six games -- then promptly clubbed a homer, double, and single while driving in three runs. He looks like the same ol' dependable Mike Lowell, which is some of the best news we could have hoped for early in the season.

Jason Varitek: A .250 average, three home runs in 36 at-bats, and a .925 OPS? Redemption! While, as you might have suspected, I'm somewhat skeptical that Varitek can sustain his solid start through the summer, he has looked like a different hitter than he was last year, quicker and more comfortable from the left side, and the cause for optimism might just be legitimate. I'm not a daydream believer quite yet, but I'm getting there. Hey, if there's going to be a catcher in history who actually improves his production at age 37, it might as well be him.

You might have heard that the Red Sox, 2-5 and looking strangely sluggish, are off to their worst start since 1996. That season, during which they were co-managed by Kevin Kennedy and Kevin Kennedy's mustache, the April lineup featured the Gold Glove-winning trio of Kevin Mitchell, Dwayne Hosey, and Wil Cordero and they rocketed to a 3-15 start en route to an 85-77 third-place finish in the American League East.

That was not a well-constructed baseball team. This year's edition certainly is. Yet based on their all-around anemic performance in Oakland last night, I shamefully admit I was about ready to lunge for the panic button at roughly 1 a.m. this morning, even with the knowledge that precisely 4.32098 percent of the schedule is complete.

Fortunately, my man Kilgore has talked me off the Zakim -- it was kind of dark up there anyway -- and I think I'm ready to ponder some of the Red Sox' apparent issues logically rather than emotionally. Let's take it player-by-struggling-player, all the while reminding ourselves that this slow start will be long since forgotten a few winning weeks into the spring.

Jon Lester: Early symptoms of the Verducci Effect? I suppose that's possible, given that Lester is apparently the No. 1 candidate in baseball to suffer regression (or worse, injury) based on his significantly increased workload a season ago. But for now, I'm writing it off as nothing more than a coincidence that the 25-year-old Lester happened to pitch two mediocre games in a row to open the season. After his first start last year, his ERA was the same as it is after two starts this season: 9.00. After six starts in '08, it was 5.40. So perhaps his early stumbles are an indication that he's a pitcher who takes a while to get warmed up for the long season, and nothing more. I'm not worried -- it's not like he's been as brutal as Chien-Ming Wang, and you know the Sox will monitor his innings and handle him cautiously. Frankly, I'm just disappointed that he now has double-figure losses in his career (he's 27-10). I was hoping he'd stay in single digits until, oh, May 2012.

Jed Lowrie: In a way, it was a relief to find out that he was trying to play through an injury, because the alternative was that he was attempting some sort of sick one-man tribute to Craig Grebeck. Lowrie was 1 for 18 when he finally admitted to Terry Francona that his wrist had been bothering him for some time. While it earns him several points on the Trot/Eckstein Gritty Gutty Scale for trying to play through pain, sometimes it is counterproductive -- like, say, when you're batting .056. He's not that crucial to the Sox' success, and they can afford to wait for him to get healthy. In the meantime, journeyman Nick Green takes over at shortstop, and he's an adequate stopgap. The abbreviated scouting report: He's a .242 career hitter, his most similar batter through age 28 is PawSox legend Lou Collier, and he looks a little like Wes Welker but isn't as good on third down.

Jonathan Papelbon: Again, it's too early to panic. And again, that see-no-evil statement comes with a caveat: If you can't admit that it was at least a little disconcerting to see Papelbon struggling so much with his command Saturday against the Angels, then you must be stocked with a never-ending supply of carmine-colored glasses. The reason Papelbon has had the most dazzling and successful three-season start to his career of virtually any closer in the history of baseball is not solely because he throws 95 miles per hour; it is because he throws 95 miles per hour with the precision and location of a crafty junkballer. In a way, the reason Papelbon is so effective is the same reason Curt Schilling dominated as a starter for so many years; he has the uncanny knack of throwing his blazing (if relatively straight) fastball precisely where the catcher wants it. If Papelbon's command and location continue to be issues -- and right now, we're doing our best to write Saturday off as an aberration -- then we'd be foolish not to be concerned.

As promised and guaranteed, Nos. 11-34 of the greatest moments from this championship era in Boston sports. For items 1-10, click right here:

11. Paul Pierce returning to the court moments after suffering what looked like a serious knee injury, Game 1 of the NBA Finals, June 5, 2008: Pierce is an LA kid -- he grew up in Inglewood -- and his Willis Reed-like return showed he has at least a little bit of Hollywood in him. An added bonus: His rapid return to health infuriated Laker fans.

12. A-Rod slapping the ball from Bronson Arroyo, Game 6 of the ALCS, Oct. 19, 2004 : When the umpires overturned their original safe call, it was one more sign that the Sox' luck had finally changed. As for A-Rod's transparent Who me? act, it was our first clear indication that he was one of sports' preeminent weasels.

13. Papi’s 14th-inning single to win Game 5 of the ALCS, Oct. 17, 2004: Of all the improbable things that happened that postseason, rallying against Rivera in consecutive games must be at the top of the list.

14. Ray Allen juking the Lakers' annoying Sasha Vujacic out of his Vujajock, Game 4 of the NBA Finals, June 12, 2008: Again with the symbolism. Allen's driving layup through the lackadaisical Lakers' defense was the definitive sequence as the Celtics completed a rally from a 24-point hole to take a 3-1 lead in the series. After that, the Lakers were broken, and banner No. 17 was a mere formality.

15. Vinatieri’s 23-yard field goal to win the Snow Bowl, Jan. 7, 2001: Think it was chip shot? You try kicking a field goal in a snow globe.

16. Walt Coleman invokes the Tuck Rule, Jan. 19, 2002: Because without his correct interpretation of a silly and contrived rule, all that came afterward wouldn't have been possible, and Al Davis might still be sane.

17. Papi’s homer in first inning of Game 7 of the ALCS, Oct. 20, 2004: Coming immediately after Johnny Damon was cut down at the plate, it staked the Sox to a 2-0 lead and delivered this message: Not only would they not go quietly, but this time, the Sox had no intention of going at all.

18. Troy Brown’s 55-yard punt return for a touchdown versus the Steelers, AFC Championship game, Jan. 27, 2002: As ol' No. 80 ran the final few steps to toward the end zone, a group of desperate Steelers defenders fell like dominoes behind him. Just a great visual.

19. Papi’s 10th-inning walkoff homer to complete an ALDS sweep of the Angels, Oct. 8, 2004: Still one of my favorite Globe sports headlines of all time: David, Goliath.

20. J.D. Drew's first-inning grand slam off Cleveland co-ace Fausto Carmona, Game 6 of the ALCS, Oct. 20, 2007: Drew may carry himself like baseball is a job rather than a passion, but say this for the man: He has a flair for the dramatic in the postseason.

21. Manny Ramirez's walkoff homer off K-Rod, Game 2 of the ALDS, Oct. 5, 2007: Do me a favor: Let me know when it lands, will you?

22. Manny’s three-run homer off of Oakland ace Barry Zito, Game 5 of the ALDS, Oct. 6, 2003: Funny how those who claim Manny never hit clutch home runs always conveniently forget this moment, when Zito was at the peak of his powers.

23. Brown recovering a blocked field goal and lateraling to Antwan Harris, who took it 45 yards for a touchdown, AFC Championship Game, Jan. 27, 2002: A typically heady play by one of the smartest players to ever wear the Patriots jersey. You and I had no idea the obscure Harris could run like that. Good thing Brown did.

24. Pokey Reese fields Ruben Sierra's grounder and throws to first to record the final out of Game 7 of the ALCS, Oct. 20, 2004: Because it had finally happened -- in the most delicious way possible -- and now we would get the reward: Watching the Red Sox celebrate on the Yankees' turf.

25. Mark Bellhorn’s three-run homer in Game 6 of the ALCS, Oct. 19, 2004: According to our accounting, this is the first time in history a controversial call at Yankees Stadium went the Red Sox' way . . . but it wasn't the only one in this game.

26. Bellhorn’s game-winning homer in Game 1 of the World Series, Oct. 23, 200:Shhh. If you listen closely, you can still hear it rattling off Pesky’s Pole.

27. Vinatieri’s 46-yard winning field goal against the Titans, AFC Divisional playoff, Jan. 10, 2004: When the temperature was almost as cold as the ice water in Vinatieri's veins.

28. Dustin Pedroia’s tone-setting homer off Rockies lefty Jeff Francis in Game 1 of the World Series, Oct. 24, 2007: A few days later, when a security guard didn't recognize Pedroia as he was trying to enter the ballpark, the Sox' rookie second baseman replied in his usual comically brash fashion: "Ask Jeff Francis who I am."

29. Derek Lowe’s crotch chop, Game 5 of the ALDS, Oct. 6, 2003: After whiffing Adam Melhuse and Terrence Long with a pair of the nastiest sinkers he ever threw, after stranding three runners to save the game and the Red Sox' season, only Miguel Tejada could blame the flighty Lowe celebrated a little too, um, graphically. Hey, you'd be excited too if your team had just overcome an 0-2 deficit.

30. Jed Lowrie’s ninth-inning RBI single to win Game 4 and defeat the Angels in the ALDS, Oct. 6, 2008: Wait -- a playoff-series-winning hit is 30th on the list? You betcha. Again: That’s how good we’ve had it, son.

31. Tom Brady hits Troy Brown for to set up winning kick in Super Bowl XXXVI, Feb. 3, 2002: Brady threw for just 145 yards in the game, but twenty-three of them came on perfectly executed crossing route to his favorite target, the biggest gainer of the nine-play, 53-yard drive that set up Vinatieri's winning 3-pointer.

32. Papi’s winning two-run double in Game 4 of the ALDS, Oct. 5, 2003: Coincidentally, Papi’s first huge postseason moment -- which came with two outs in the eighth -- came off future Sox postseason super hero Keith Foulke, then of the A’s.

33. Coco Crisp’s epic 10-pitch at-bat in Game 5 of the 2008 ALCS, Oct. 16, 2008: The Sox were down 7-0 with two outs in the seventh inning. With two outs in the eighth, Crisp had his defining moment with the Sox, singling in the tying run to tie it at 7-7. Couldn't have been happier for him, either.

34. Kevin Garnett’s declaration that ‘‘Anything is possibbuuuulllllll!!!, June 17, 2008: Because, as we’ve learned time and again this decade, it is the absolute truth.

(That's right, I just quoted "The Carpenters." Don't you dare judge me -- you're the one secretly bummed that Seal Klum can't stick around to sing the anthem tomorrow.)

* * *

You may have noticed this, but I can be a cynical cuss from time to time. That attitude, however, goes on the shelf on Opening Day.

I can't help it. I love the sappy/sweet sentiment, the new beginnings, the pomp and circumstance, the misty watercolor memories, every last cliche about hope springing eternal, Mo sinking the Mariners, Dewey crushing Jack Morris's inaugural pitch of the season, the mock cheer for Mariano Rivera and his pitch-perfect reaction, the deliciously hammy orchestrations of Dr. Charles Steinberg, the player introductions and awe-inspiring flyovers. All of it. Even Terry Cashman. ("This one goes out to Eddie Jurak . . .)

Sadly, that unpredictable old crab Mother Nature decided to mess with our grand plans today, and so we must wait one more day for our formal introduction to the 2009 Boston Red Sox. After waiting all winter for this, I suppose another 24 hours (or 26 hours and 1 minute, to be accurate) isn't too much to ask for the first pitch of the new season.

But while we look forward to tomorrow, let's ponder a few other Sox-related items we're looking forward to in 2009.

Jon Lester, staff ace: There's some debate over what the Sox should expect from the 25-year-old lefthander this season. The consensus, with which I generally agree, is that Lester will be among the premier pitchers in the American League this season, a legitimate Cy Young candidate. While there has to be some concern about the possible lingering effects of huge leap in innings last season (from 63 to 237, including the postseason), you have to trust that the progressive Red Sox management will find a way to get Lester rest at every opportunity during the season. In the end, he'll throw 200 high-quality innings, and once again we'll be grateful this admirable amalgam of Chuck Finley and Bruce Hurst is signed with the Sox for the next five years at a minimum.

Mark Teixeira's first trip to Fenway: Mazz thinks A-Rod is going to be wearing a bigger bull's-eye than the Yankees' new first baseman, but I hope that's not the case. A-Rod's an easier target, but Teixeira, who reveals himself to be more of a duplicitous hypocrite than previously thought with each new interview, is a more deserving one. Sox fans don't appreciate being played for fools. If there's any justice, he will get booed so loudly he has to stuff a few of his wadded-up $100s in his ears. The Yankees' first visit to Fenway is April 24. Mark your calendar and hone your insults.

Just for the sport of it, a slightly expanded version of my picks from this morning's wicked awesome Globe Baseball Preview section. As always, please don't hold me to them come October (especially the Cincy pick) . . .

AL East
1. Red Sox. Playing the role of Schilling in October: John Smoltz.
2. Yankees. New York (wild card). Whitson, Rogers, Pavano, Burnett.
3. Rays. Grant Balfour remembers he’s Grant Balfour.
4. Blue Jays. Too many scarred pitching arms.
5. Orioles. Waiting for Wieters.

AL Central
1. Indians. Sizemore seizes MVP.
2. Twins. Always better than you think.
3. Royals. I'm with Gammons -- Greinke will be in Cy Young mix.
4. White Sox. Where have you gone, Chester Earl Lemon?
5. Tigers. The fire-sale begins in May.

AL West
1. A’s. Think Nomar and Cabrera discuss 2004?
2. Angels. Shoulda signed Manny; Vlad is no longer elite.
3. Rangers. Team prez Nolan Ryan ought to start Opening Day.
4. Mariners. Junior’s value is purely sentimental.

NL East
1. Mets. K-Rod, Putz mean bullpen won’t swallow tongue again.
2. Phillies. Howard’s batting averages, 2006-08: .313, .268, .251.
3. Marlins. Fantasy superstar Hanley even better in reality.
4. Braves. Glavine played with Phil Niekro, who’s now 70.
5. Nationals. Jilted Expos fans point and laugh.

NL Central
1. Reds. Future is now with Bruce, Votto, Volquez.
2. Cubs (wild card). Bradley, Piniella. Gasoline, match.
3. Brewers. No CC, no Sheets, no chance.
4. Cardinals. Ludwick won’t match Pujols in homers again. (Duh.)
5. Astros. Berkman is most underrated hitter of his time.
6. Pirates. Thirty years since "We Are Family" champs. Feels like 60.

NL West
1. Dodgers. Admit it, Manny is where he belonged all along.
2. Diamondbacks. J.D.’s bro Stephen had 76 extra-base hits in ’08.
3. Giants. Lincecum and Cain and three days of pain?
4. Rockies. Future star: Ian Stewart. Faded star: Todd Helton.
5. Padres. The Netherlands’ WBC team had deeper lineup.

Postseason
ALDS: Red Sox over A’s, Yankees over Indians.
ALCS: Red Sox over Yankees.
NLDS: Dodgers over Reds, Cubs over Mets.
NLCS: Cubs over Dodgers.
World Series: Red Sox over Cubs.

Quick question/tangent while waiting for Friday to turn into 2:05 p.m. Monday:

Have I been underestimating the Tampa Bay Rays this season?

I've made predictions in various forms on the AL East race in roughly 1,998 different places on Boston.com the last several weeks, and I'm pretty sure I've gone Red Sox-Yanks-Rays in all of them. I am genuinely confident that the Sox will win the division -- their staggering pitching depth will carry them, and general manager Theo Epstein will get a big bat before the July 31 deadline should they require one.

And while I find this Yankees team intriguing -- A.J. Burnett and Joba Chamberlain could combine for 35 wins, or they could total a dozen, and I wouldn't be surprised by either result -- the bullpen is suspect beyond the ageless Mariano Rivera, and there are too many aging players in crucial roles. Plus, Joe Girardi is entirely the wrong man for the job.

Which brings us to the third-place Rays. No doubt you're well-versed in their unlikely feats of a year ago. They are reigning division champions -- we're still waiting for that September collapse -- and winners of 97 games. While the tendency is to dismiss them as a fluke or a lesser light compared to the two AL East behemoths, it doesn't take much investigation to recognize the truth:

This is a thoroughly impressive -- perhaps more impressive -- baseball team, and if the '07 Rays were the reincarnation of the '91 Atlanta Braves, it's not a stretch to see them build on their worst-to-first season. Remember, the '92 Braves made it back to the World Series, losing to a loaded Blue Jays team in six games.

Curt Schilling's famous bloody sock is in Hall of Fame. There should be no doubt that the pitcher who wore the most discussed piece of hosiery in baseball history -- the ultimate Red Sock -- belongs as well.

With Schilling announcing his retirement this morning on his blog -- tell me you didn't see that one coming -- his Cooperstown credentials immediately became the sports debate of the day. There should be no debate at all. If he doesn't have his Hall of Fame speech ready by now, he might want to start penning a draft. The man belongs in Cooperstown. Schilling won't be a first-ballot selection -- his 216 victories put him in a tie for 80th all time, even with Wilbur Cooper and Charlie Hough and two more than Pedro Martinez -- but any one voter who does his due diligence on Schilling's career should come to no other logical conclusion: The Hall of Fame would be incomplete without him.

If you don't put arguably the most accomplished postseason pitcher of any era in Cooperstown, then what's the point of even having the place? To taunt Pete Rose? And it's not like Schilling was Wes Gardner during the regular season. While he may not have the counting stats of someone like Bert Blyleven, he was 70 games over .500, finished with a 3.46 ERA, and rates 14th all-time with 3,116 strikeouts. His adjusted ERA of 127 is good for 43d on the career list, tied with such legends and luminaries as Bob Gibson, Tom Seaver, and John Smoltz.

Man, I'm glad my fantasy baseball draft isn't for a couple more weeks. Because at this hour it seems like there are about five sure-things and 24 1/2 rounds of question marks.

Lefthanded aces Johan Santana and Cole Hamels have had elbow soreness, which is at least a little alarming -- especially if you're a Mets or Phillies fan. Chase Utley and David Ortiz -- both top-12 picks last year in the 10-team mixed league I play in --- are among those coming back from worrisome injuries. Joe Mauer has a puzzling back injury, A-Rod is blowing himself butterfly kisses in the mirror for the next 6-9 weeks, Joba Chamberlain is channeling Joe Cowley, and the World Baseball Classic will probably result in some more GM-enraging roster attrition before it's done. Maybe there aren't more notable injuries this year . . . but it sure seems that there are.

Yet you can be too cautious when it comes ailing franchise players and other big names. Albert Pujols slid to the third round last year based on whispers that he needed Tommy John surgery and wouldn't last the season. You know how that played out: He missed all of 14 games, was his usual historically great self (.357, 37 homers), and someone got the steal of the century.

Pujols is probably the consensus No. 1 pick this year, but I'm not here today to tell you who you should take. I'm here to tell you the name players and so-called hot shots you should avoid, whether because of injury, age, a change in venue, or something else.

Now, I'm not saying you shouldn't draft some of these guys if they're available a few rounds later than where the Karabells of the world might project them to go. But keeping in mind where they will probably be picked, I don't see the following players -- one at each position -- as "good value." (Bill Belichick™).

(Aside to anyone from my league: These may not be my honest assessments, so don't consider this post a tip sheet on what I'm thinking. There might be a red herring or two. Really.)

(Aside to anyone who's not in my league: These are my honest assessments. Shhh. Don't tell any of my fellow GMs. I'm pretty sure at least three of the goofs have A-Rod atop their draft boards right now. Maybe four.)

CATCHER
Jorge Posada, New York Yankees: Given the scarcity of good-hitting catchers, it's hard to dismiss anyone who might be productive. The obvious choice here should be Mauer, whose health situation makes him a gamble. But he's just so talented -- and he will hit for power someday -- that he's a risk worth taking under most circumstances. He's still a better bet than, say, than Posada, who will be 38 in August and is coming off major shoulder surgery. By the way, if you have any idea what to make of the sky-is-the-limit projections for Matt Wieters, please, clue me in.

FIRST BASE
Big Papi, Boston Red Sox: I'm confident Papi will rediscover at least some of his old mojo and hit, say, .290-32-105 in 140 or so games. So I'm not saying he'll be a wasted pick by any means. It's just that when our local favorites are involved, sometimes sentiment sneaks into the equation and the player ends up getting drafted a few rounds sooner than he should. (Think Jacoby Ellsbury last year.) It's not difficult to find a productive first baseman, and you could probably get someone like Tampa Bay's Carlos Pena -- who will probably post similar power numbers to Papi -- several rounds later.

Playing nine innings while wondering if A-Rod is actually a "Saturday Night Live" skit come to life . . .

1. While Theo Epstein said Sunday that the Red Sox and Jason Bay have broken off contract talks for now, the strong hunch here is that the sides will quietly work on a deal through the spring, and the good news of its completion will probably arrive when we're not expecting it. An agreement just makes too much sense for both parties. Bay fell for Boston and the Fenway experience not long after being rescued from Pittsburgh purgatory last July 31, and while his impending free agency makes it extremely unlikely that he'll accept a deal that's as team-friendly as those signed by Kevin Youkilis, Dustin Pedroia, and Jon Lester, it doesn't sound like he's trying to shake every last coin out of John Henry's pockets, either. And it would be beyond wise for the Red Sox to make it a priority to retain him. He has legitimate 30-homer power, and next year's free-agent class lacks a true knock-down-the-fences slugger (the holdouts and rubes will realize this year that Bay is a superior offensive player to Coors Field-dependent Matt Holliday, who's about to be exposed in that cavernous ballpark in Oakland.) Bottom line: Bay's happy here, he cured the club's Manny headache, he's a good fit skill-wise, and in the next few months, he'll sign a reasonable deal to remain here for the next few seasons. (Completely off track: Is it me, or does Bay look like Gabe Kapler here?)

2. Can't blame Kevin Youkilis for being annoyed with David Ortiz's recurring comments that he needs protection in the lineup. After all, Youk did win the Henry Aaron Award as the top hitter in the AL last season while batting immediately behind Ortiz in the lineup -- what more is he supposed to do? While I actually agree with Papi's point to a degree -- Mark Teixeira would have been the perfect fit, and there are a couple of potential sinkholes in the lineup if certain things don't go right, such as Jason Varitek's bat being resuscitated from the dead -- it's time to let it go and move on. The more Papi mentions it, the more it appears he was spoiled by having Manny batting behind him for all of those years.

3. Daniel Bard has generated some "Next Papelbon" buzz this spring because of his triple-digit fastball. While that's hyperbolic to some degree, it is easy to be encouraged about the 23-year-old former No. 1 pick, particularly since he's walked just two while whiffing 10 in seven innings. Sure, that's a minuscule sample size, but considering this is a pitcher whose command was so completely on the fritz two years ago that he walked 78 batters in 75.1 innings at two stops in Single A, it's nonetheless a reminder of how far he has come. That Bard is at the point where he could be a significant contributor to the big club's bullpen later this season is a credit not only to his own toughness, but also to Red Sox brain trust for the way they handled him during his struggles.

4. Not to be cruel, but I suppose if a Red Sox regular had to get hurt, it might as well be Julio Lugo, though you do have to feel bad for him in a way since he was having something of a redemptive spring. The only way I can see this affecting the Sox is if Mike Lowell suffers some sort of setback during the next few weeks in his recovery from hip surgery. With Jed Lowrie now taking over full-time at short instead of filling the super-sub sort of role the Sox envisioned for him, the club has lost its best backup plan at third base for the time being. In the meantime, I'll continue to daydream about a midseason upgrade at shortstop, since I'm not particularly thrilled with either Lugo or Lowrie. J.J. Hardy, anyone?

5. I may have mentioned this before, but it still staggers me. I don't know if this is the most prescient comment Bill James has ever written, but it certainly has to rate somewhere among his greatest hits, doesn't it? It comes from "The Baseball Book 1991," and it's about a player who hadn't played an inning above Double A at that point. You'll know who it is before you're even through the first sentence:

"You never know exactly how good a young player will be, but with some luck [for the player], Lou Gorman will hear about the . . . trade until the day he dies. It could be one of those deals, like Lou Brock for Ernie Broglio, Nolan Ryan for Jim Fregosi, and Frank Robinson for Milt Pappas, that haunts the man who made it."

The Red Sox take on the Yankees tonight in Fort Myers, and while some probably like to ratchet up the hype for the first 2009 meeting of any kind between the famous rivals, most of us know better without having to peek at the calendar.

If you're among those who don't, one glance at the Yankees' lineup card tonight should help open your eyes to the truth. For instance, Rodriguez is batting fifth. Nope, not Alex . . . John. In case you don't have a scorecard, he's the one without the lame hip, the fall-guy cousin, and the well-worn copy of Madonna's "Like A Virgin" album.

It's only spring, people. It's the Fort Myers Red Sox versus the Tampa Yankees. Scranton vs. Pawtucket. It's J-Rod, not A-Rod. This time, it doesn't count.

While most every member of the Yankees varsity is out of the lineup tonight -- did we mention that someone named Juan Miranda is batting third? -- there is one absence more notable than the others.

(No, not you Alex. Please go away for 6-9 weeks, minimum. America needs a break here.)

We're talking about Derek Jeter, of course. The Yankees' living monument and star shortstop -- and those things are not mutually exclusive -- is off doing his Captain America thing for Team USA in the World Baseball Classic. It'll be weird tonight seeing Yankees without him. Sure, we could get used to it, but still, Ramiro Pena, shortstop, Yankees doesn't quite have the same effect, you know?

Now, I suppose that qualifies as the nicest thing I've ever said about Jeter in this space. As you might have noticed through the years, I've built a long -- and I'd like to believe distinguished -- record as a Jeter basher. It's kinda my thing.

Continuing on Tuesday's theme, scattered thoughts, predictions, and ridiculous non sequiturs on the National League . . .

NL EAST
Philadelphia Phillies: Let's make a quick comparison of 25-year-old lefthanders, both of whom already own a World Series ring:

Cole Hamels: 84 career starts, 38 wins, 23 losses, 3.43 ERA, 1.13 WHIP, 518 strikeouts in 543 innings, 133 adjusted ERA.

Jon Lester: 59 starts, 27 wins, 8 losses, 3.81 ERA, 1.31 WHIP, 262 strikeouts in 354 innings, 123 adjusted ERA.

So the question is this: Going forward, which of these young southpaw aces would you rather have?

New York Mets: Still can't believe Omar Minaya didn't make a bid for Manny. The Wilpons must have rigged his phone so he got zapped every time he dialed the first few digits of Scott Boras's cellphone number.

Florida Marlins: Hanley Ramirez's most similar batter through age 24? Nomaahhhhhh!. Hanley (I refuse to call him HanRam) is the TATB-endorsed choice for NL MVP this year. But if he shows up on the cover of Sports Illustrated shirtless and looking like he's on the McNamee Fitness plan, I reserve the right to change my mind.

Atlanta Braves: In his seven seasons as a starting pitcher, Derek Lowe has averaged slightly more than 15 wins per year, has never had fewer that 32 starts, and his 1.13 WHIP last season was his lowest since he went 21-8 with a 0.974 WHIP for the 2001 Red Sox. Maybe the Braves didn't overpay for him after all.

Washington Nationals: At this point, I imagine fans in D.C. are trying to convince them to move back to Montreal.

It's always cool -- and encouraging in a way -- when someone you admire acknowledges the days when his loftiest goals were not yet achievements, but only big dreams.

(AP Photo)

Though I'm no extraordinary Joe, I can relate to a degree. This year, for the first time since I've worked at the Globe, I have the chance to contribute to the baseball preview section in a semi-significant way. Given that the day the section came out was essentially a national holiday in my household growing up ... well, let's just say I understand the pride Poz is feeling.

One thing I'm particularly looking forward to doing is adding my two cents to the staff predictions. I'm still devouring the "Baseball Prospectus" annual -- which always has a heavy influence on my prognosticating, not to mention my fantasy baseball draft board -- so let's consider this a run-through of how I think teams will stack up in the American League. They are listed in predicted order of finish in their respective divisions -- subject to change before Opening Day, of course -- along with a half-formed and occasionally relevant comment about each club.

AL EAST
Boston Red Sox: This has nothing to do with the 2009 Sox -- really, did you want another rehash of the importance of Papi, Beckett, Lowell, and Drew? -- but I've been meaning to make a note of it, so I might as well do it now. I was thumbing through the 1979 Sox media guide at work the other day -- can't remember why, probably for some crucial Win Remmerswaal statistic -- when some numbers caught my eye that I almost couldn't believe. Nope, not Jim Rice's home run total or Fred Lynn's OPS; I'm talking about the Red Sox ticket prices in '79. Get this: 30 years ago, the most expensive seats, the roof boxes, cost ... $7. You're lucky if you can get a bottle of Poland Springs for that these days. Box seats were $6, general admission was $3, and the bleachers were all of two bucks. Using my mathlete skills here, season tickets for the best seats in the house would cost you roughly $550 for 81 games. You couldn't buy two dugout box seats to a single game this year for that amount. I know, I know -- supply and demand. I don't blame the Sox at all for charging what they do, because they can get it. I guess I was just stunned at how inexpensive it used to be to spend a day at Fenway.

New York Yankees: You know, I planned on making fun of Johnny Damon here for saying Cody Ransom -- the obscure 33-year-old fill-in third baseman with 183 big-league at bats on his resume -- is "probably the Yankees' best athlete." And then I saw this.

Tampa Bay Rays: Grant Balfour in 2008: 58.3 innings, 28 hits, 82 strikeouts, 1.54 ERA, 288 adjusted ERA. And that my friend, wins the prize for the most improbable performance by a previously lousy relief pitcher (short term or long) since Shag Crawford retired DeCinces and Grich with the bases loaded and the score tied in the epic Game 5 of the '86 ALCS. There's zero chance he does it again, and the mediocre bullpen will lead to the Rays' slight regression.

Baltimore Orioles: As a rookie with the Dodgers in 1993, Mike Piazza batted .318 with 35 homers, a .561 slugging percentage, and a .931 OPS. As I noted -- or marveled at -- previously, Baseball Prospectus's PECOTA projections have Orioles phenom Matt Wieters essentially duplicating Piazza's debut season with a .311 average, 31 homers, a .544 slugging percentage, and a .939 OPS. And, unlike Piazza, he can throw the ball to second base without it rolling to a stop. Man, I can't wait to find out if this kid is for real.

Toronto Blue Jays: Vernon Wells is a coach-killer ... or in baseball nerdling terms, a fantasy-team killer. He looks like a superstar (particularly against the Sox), gets paid like a superstar, but gets hurt like he's paying some sort of bizarre homage to J.D. Drew, and puts up numbers just good enough to sucker you into drafting him again the next year. Well, I've learned my lesson, Vernon Wells. You'll be someone else's enigma this year. (No doubt you'll hit 40 home runs and channel Willie Mays all summer now that I've sworn you off.)

AL CENTRAL
Cleveland Indians: Cliff Lee's most similar pitcher through age 29: Kirk Rueter. Nope, I don't think he's going 22-3 again in this lifetime.

Kansas City Royals: I know someone who's picking them to win this division. I'm not quite ready to tiptoe out on that limb -- the offense will be too spotty unless Alex Gordon becomes the superstar he was supposed to be and Mike Jacobs figures out how to get on base at better than a .299 clip -- but they will be one of the feel-good stories of the season. And Zack Greinke shall lead them, approaching 20 wins and true acehood.

I realize I'm a day late and about $45 million short on this, but I can't resist. This right here is what you call a money quote:

"I won. I won getting out of [Boston], because I'm in a great place. I'm in a place where I want to play and I'm gonna be happy. My teammates love me. The fans love me and the way I play. Sometimes you're better off to have a two-year deal in a place where you're going be happy than an eight-year deal in a place where you're going to suffer."

Suffer, huh? And just when we thought Manny had put away the blowtorch that he took to his Red Sox legacy last July. I imagine the sports-radio airbags will be yowling about his 7 1/2 years of well-compensated "suffering" in Boston right up until the day he's enshrined in Cooperstown.

As you can probably tell, I'm having my usual conflicted thoughts on Manny. The intent today is not to defend him or rip him, though I imagine 99 percent of Sox fans would prefer I do the latter. What I'm here to do is ask a favor:

Move on. Let Manny go. Forget, even if you can't forgive. It's time.

I know, that's somewhat hypocritical given that I'm the one spending all the words on him right now. But now that he's re-signed with the Dodgers for two more years and the offseason melodrama has concluded, it's time for us to stop obsessing over his every nonsensical quote, new hairstyle, mammoth home run, goofy grin, and every other part of the charismatic, enigmatic package. He belongs to Los Angeles now. There's no need for Boston to keep loathing and stalking him like a scorned ex-girlfriend.

Really, LA is where he belonged all along. It's okay to admit it. The casualness of the fandom suits him, the ownership adores him, and Joe Torre is likely to just let him do his Manny Being Manny routine while the Dodgers manager crafts the manuscript for his next devious tell-all. ("The Manny Years"?) Manny's a Hollywood character through and through. Always has been.

Chasing the headlines, and all the usual minutiae as well . . .

Like the majority of Celtics fans, I imagine, I have mixed feelings about the impending addition of that skilled carcinogen, Stephon Marbury.

From a basketball standpoint, I've talked myself into at least being intrigued by it, primarily because this is the kind of low-risk, high-reward acquisition that Red Auerbach wouldn't hesitate to pull off. Marbury -- assuming his skills haven't eroded too much after more than a year since his last NBA game -- could be a terrific fit as a combo guard coming off the bench for 15-20 minutes per night. His presence will take the ball out of Eddie House's hands and allow him to play his natural position at two-guard. And Marbury's shoot-first tendencies might not be such a bad thing when he's on the court with a second unit that sometimes has a hard time generating offense.

His presence should be no threat to Rajon Rondo's psyche, either -- this is his team now, he knows it, and should he need a reminder, Doc Rivers is perceptive enough to remind his young point guard of as much before Marbury rolls into town.

But what nags at me is this: Even though Marbury could make a difference in whether or not the Celtics repeat as champions, I can't shake the feeling that he does not deserve to be part of such a selfless, admirable team. He's been a first-team All-Malcontent selection annually, and I'm skeptical that he has a clue how fortunate he is to have this opportunity.

Ultimately, the Celtics do have to take a shot here, because if Marbury plays up to his ability and behaves like somewhat of an adult, sure, he could be a tremendous asset. If he doesn't realize what's at stake and plays his Starbury-First game, they can simply send him back to whatever planet he came from. But should he even consider pulling his chaotic act here, I hope Kevin Garnett slaps that tattoo right off his head.

* * *

While poking around baseball-reference.com the other day (okay, every day), it dawned on me that there was a chance Red Sox manager Terry Francona had actually batted against John Smoltz during his playing days.

After all, Francona's final big-league season was 1990, while Smoltz arrived for good with the Braves in '88. Much to this nerdling's disappointment, however, their paths never crossed -- Francona wrapped up his big league career with Milwaukee and Cleveland in the AL, so he never had a chance to take some hacks against Smoltz in the days before interleague play.

But . . . there are two active major league pitchers who faced Tito.

So tell me who they are already, will ya?

* * *

Garret Anderson, the longtime Angel who signed a one-year deal with the Atlanta Braves earlier this week, is your classic example of an athlete who was called underrated for so long that he became overrated -- vastly so, in Anderson's case.

Yes, he did have a pretty decent stretch of productive seasons, culminating with a 131 adjusted OPS in 2003. But he's never been anything more than an adequate left fielder, his career high in walks is 38 (in what is regarded as his best season, his 35-homer, 117-RBI campaign in 2000, he had a puny .307 on-base percentage), and his lifetime OPS+ is 105, slightly above average.

Just for the sport of it, here are a few other adjusted OPS numbers by some of his peers:

Troy O'Leary: 97
Trot Nixon: 112
Raul Ibanez: 113
Kevin Millar: 112
Jacque Jones: 98
Ruben Sierra: 105
Carl Everett: 107

* * *

Since it's encouraged in some circles to speculate that slugger-in-purgatory Manny Ramirez used steroids -- even though there is nothing about his remarkably consistent track record and not a single sinister rumor or dubious association indicating that he has -- I figure I might as well dig up a piece of evidence, anecdotal though it may be, that suggests clean living on Manny's part. This is from a story written by Gordon Edes in the March 20, 2005 editions of the Globe:

Orlando Cabrera laughed at the notion that Manny Ramirez ever experimented with steroids. "My brother [Jolbert] played with Manny in Cleveland," he said. "And Manny hated needles. Every spring, when they took their physicals, Manny would take off, and four, five guys would chase him down. He just hated needles. There's no way he would have ever juiced himself. He just worked hard. When we go on the road, Manny would be out of his room at 8 o'clock, going to the gym. And he practiced hard. He went out to Fenway Park many times to learn how to play the Wall, and he never -- never -- skipped going to the cage."

Does that mean Manny's always been clean? Well, hell, of course not -- we simply do not know about anyone for sure. (Though Jason Tyner would be a surprise.) But it's closer to proof that he lived righteously than any argument I've heard from the other side.

* * *

Obviously, the move was motivated by sentiment and desperation to appease the public more than baseball matters. Still, I understand why fans are thrilled Ken Griffey Jr. is back with the Mariners. It just seems right, you know?

As someone who is Griffey's age -- he's a day younger than me -- I've always found the arc of his career compelling. He arrived in 1989 as a ridiculously gifted 19-year-old with an electric smile and a habit of hitting picturesque home runs, making highlight-reel catches, and busting his old man's chops.

He grew up to become perhaps the elite player of his generation -- and certainly the most popular, at least at his peak -- but as injuries and time robbed him of some of his talent, he became more introverted, and the smile didn't come so often.

Or maybe it was just that he matured. As Jeff Pearlman wrote in this smart tribute a few days ago, Griffey could be remarkably thoughtful, particularly for a professional athlete of his accomplishments. (News flash: Superstars don't always have the best perspective on the rest of mankind.)

Griffey aged like a normal person, suffering through the usual aches in his 30s while so many of his peers found some mysterious fountain of youth. And with that came an interesting irony: Griffey's legacy might actually be greater than it would have been had he remained healthy and broken all the records that now belong the someone else, for the perception (and hopefully the reality) is that he was one of the few idols from his era who played the game without chemical assistance.

Griffey's no longer "The Kid" anymore -- he's 39 now and has been a big leaguer for more than half his life -- but it sure is good to still have him around. Besides, as long as he's a Mariner, back where it all began, then I can't be that ancient.

With a tip of the cap to my friends at Fire Brand of the American League -- and the acknowledgment that the well of topics that I'm interested in writing about is rather dry this afternoon -- here's my list of favorite Red Sox players by position since I became a fan 30-some years ago. Hit me with yours in the comments . . .

C -- Carlton Fisk. New Englanders tending to look at him as our favorite son, the tough, stoic embodiment of what a Sox player should be. Thurman Munson, on the other hand, thought his rival was a preening pretty boy, which echoed of jealousy considering he generally looked like a pinstriped russet potato.

1B -- Brian Daubach. Had a .562 slugging percentage in '99 and delivered some huge and memorable hits during the Sox' drive to the wild card. Plus, no one seemed to appreciate his good fortune more than the Dauber. Honorable mention: Maurice Vaughn, an oversized package of power, pride and personality.

2B -- Todd Walker. Hard to omit Dustin Pedroia, who is well on his way to becoming one of the most popular Sox players of all time, but I had to go with Walker, who excelled in the 2003 ALCS despite his manager's Grady-brained decision to occasionally sit him in favor of Damian Jackson. Further, he was one of the fun-loving players who changed the culture of the Sox. Too bad he missed out on the good times of 2004.

3B -- Butch Hobson. Boyhood hero. And I don't care what you say, he was an above-average (and maniacal) defensive third baseman before Don Zimmer left him out there until his elbow turned to Spam.

SS -- Nomar Garciaparra. Yeah, the ending was as bitter as day-old Dunkin's, but I can't be the only one who remembers fondly those overachieving Sox teams of Nomar, Pedro, and 23 Duquette-approved role players.

LF -- Manny Ramirez. The ending was inexcusable and ugly, but that doesn't erase the enjoyment we got from watching the premier righthanded hitter of his generation for 7 1/2 seasons. He was worth the $160 million and then some. Honorable mention: Troy O'Leary, whose "luck of the Irish" two-homer, seven-RBI game in Game 5 of the 1999 ALDS versus Cleveland remains one of my favorite improbable performances in franchise history.

Quite the quartet we have here: A Hall of Famer (Molitor), a should-be Hall of Famer (Trammell), the coolest cat in the '70s baseball not named Oscar Gamble (Washington and his trusty toothpick). . . and Mickey Klutts, who only happens to be the most appropriately named player in the history of baseball.

Klutts had the most obscure existence of our '78 Rookie Shortstops here, but even he owns a certain dubious claim to baseball fame: He was the anti-Ripken. In parts of eight big league seasons, he somehow managed to spend more days on the disabled list than he had at-bats. Entering the 1983 season, he had been on the DL for 538 days and had come to the plate 483 times. He got 43 at-bats with the Blue Jays early that season, got hurt again, and never played another major league game. We're presuming he's still on a rehab assignment somewhere.

I bring up Mickey Klutts now only because -- well, because I'm a sucker for the obscure, as you long-suffering readers are all too aware, but also because I was reminded of him and his particular gift for physically impairing himself when I read this headline yesterday from Ft. Myers:

BACK IS FRONT AND CENTER Drew still dealing with occasional discomfort

Yup, it's not officially baseball season until J.D. Drew reveals he has a lingering injury from the previous year. Play ball!

Good ol' David Jonathan Drew. He's like our very own modern day Mickey Klutts . . . except, you know, good. The guy is more fragile than Mr. Parker's leg lamp. Given how important a relatively healthy and productive season from Drew is to the Mannyless Red Sox lineup this season, we can only cross our fingers and hope that Terry Francona's don't-sweat-it report on the condition of his right fielder is more accurate than the one Drew gave reporters Sunday.

But beyond his typically enigmatic situation, there are very few dramas to get worked up about regarding these Red Sox. Actually, there are none, really. Which might explain why Francona looks younger this spring than he did last October. Life without Manny suits him well.

Even considering the shameful and self-inflicted events of this week, Alex Rodriguez is a first-ballot Hall of Famer. And the same goes for many of his infamous fuel-injected peers.

So there. I said it. The Juice Guys and 'roiders -- the elite among 'em, anyway -- deserve a place in Cooperstown.

Some are already in, you know. Oh, we don't know the names, but there's no doubt that some performance-enhancing drug users have long since been inducted, right there alongside the racists and role models and drunks and goody-two-cleats and various other decent and dastardly examples of our society through the decades.

We still do not have a definitive picture of who was clean and who wasn't. But the more time that passes, the clearer it becomes that PED use was well beyond prevalent. It was an epidemic. At the rate we are going, we may get to the point where there are only two or three clean potential Hall of Famers from this era. Heck, Paul Byrd -- Paul Byrd! -- used human growth hormone. That makes everyone a suspect in my mind. And isn't there something patently unfair about banning those who were caught, knowing that some -- probably many, since it apparently takes a complete fool to flunk a drug test -- got away with it?

Of course it is not. The supposedly lovable "We Are Family" Pittsburgh Pirates of 1979 had a thriving coke dealership operating out of their clubhouse -- that remains the sport's most damaging drug scandal, at least until we can pry the list of the other 103 names from Gene Orza's bloodless hands. (The Pirates also were known to enjoy a good smoke -- in the dugout.)

Many members of the 1980 World Champion Philadelphia Phillies were reportedly hopped up on greenies. (No, not you -- the pills, dummy.)

And I can't wait to read future National Book Award winner Darryl Strawberry's upcoming masterpiece on the mid-'80s New York Mets, who apparently did everything short of snorting ants with Ozzy Osbourne.

Yes, A-Rod and too many others were despicable cheaters, and yes, they deserve to have that label permanently attached to their sullied names. They deserve scorn and shame even as we permit them in the Hall of Fame. Maybe the solution is to put an asterisk by their names in the record book, or better yet, an image of a syringe. Mock them by making their heads just a little more swollen on their plaques. Brand them with a scarlet S.

Go ahead, label them as you wish. But just remember to vote them in. The true superstars, the greatest of their time, belong in Cooperstown. The Hall is incomplete without them.

(I imagine you're figuring out where I stand on Pete Rose right about now.).

Let's take a look at some proven and strongly suspected PED users who will get at least some level of Cooperstown consideration, and I'll tell you whether they should be enshrined. I suspect you will then tell me why I have a whistle-pea for a brain, but let's get to it anyway ...

A special Jason Varitek-is-staying-now-I-can-sleep edition of Nine Innings . . .

1. In the end -- the glorious, waayyyyy overdue end -- I'm glad ol' No. 33 is back with the Red Sox. I know, you probably don't believe me given the snark (and statistical truths) I've utilized while making the case over the past few months that Varitek is cooked as a major league hitter. But it is consistent with what I said all along -- that if he came back on the Red Sox' terms and in a limited role, there should be a place for him. The pitchers -- particularly Jon Lester, from the sounds of his recent comments -- are comfortable with him, and that does count for something. But again, this is the key -- a limited role. Terry Francona must resist the temptation to lean on him like he has in the past, because he simply is not a player capable of performing at an adequate offensive level anymore. Considering Francona's blind spots for certain veterans -- a washed-up Mike Timlin the past two years, Kevin Millar over Kevin Youkilis in '05 -- it's imperative for Theo Epstein to acquire their proverbial Catcher of the Future soon -- and "encourage" the manager to give the new guy at least 50 percent of the playing time. That's the only way this is going to work.

2. I mentioned this in today's chat, but it bears repeating: It's unfair to the Red Sox' veteran pitchers to suggest that they depend greatly on Varitek's wisdom or guidance. Look at their histories: Brad Penny and Josh Beckett pitched the Marlins to a World Championship with Pudge Rodriguez -- universally panned as a game-caller -- behind the plate. John Smoltz threw to Javy Bleepin' Lopez for years, and we learned the hard way what he's all about. Dice-K seems to do his own thing, Varitek doesn't even catch Wakefield, and to suggest he's the secret to the success of the likes of Jonathan Papelbon and Jon Lester does a great disservice to their talent, dedication, and competitiveness of those pitchers. Yes, to a man, the Sox staff respects him and is comfortable with him, and yes, I suppose he calls a good game, though there's no way to measure beyond anecdotal evidence. But in the end, it's not Jason Varitek who delivers the pitch. It's worth remembering that.

3. The suggestion -- spewed forth all too frequently in the comments section -- that Varitek should or will fire Scott Boras is only slightly less foolish than the notion that Varitek was ever going to get a Posada-type deal as a free agent. It sounds good, but it's never going to happen. Sure, Boras botched this offseason from the moment he declined arbitration -- he seriously misread the marketplace and the effects of the economy, and Varitek certainly has the right to be annoyed about that. But in the big picture, Boras has served Varitek extremely well since becoming his agent 15 years ago. This is a player whose most similar comps include Mike Lieberthal and Mike Stanley (yes, that Mike Stanley), and yet he has made $57 million in his career. Boras bollixed the situation this time around. But overall, Varitek is well ahead on the financial scoreboard in his career, and he has his career-long agent to thank for that.

4. Phrases I never want to hear again in relation to Varitek: They should make him a player coach . . . gritty and gutty . . . he's our captain! . . . best game-caller in baseball . . . selfless leader on and off the field . . . the .220 average was a fluke -- he'll bounce back!. . . and probably a few others I have blacked out. The Varitek Army is still permitted to use "knowledgeable" and "prepared," but that's it.

I think I just swallowed my tongue.

myspace.com/pambeesley

Actually, speaking of lipstick, hmmm . . . perhaps that is actually A-Rod in disguise during one of his reconnaissance missions to gather info on his obsession, Capt. Jeter. Yes, that's what I will tell myself.

Anyway, we can discuss this travesty, various celebrity Hots or Nots -- Anne Hathaway? No way -- and perhaps even some sports stuff, such as Jason Varitek's greed/bluff and the joy that comes from watching an Eddie House hot streak, in tomorrow's Boston.com chat at noon sharp. Be there. And bring me some lunch.

Also, in case you missed it, this week's "OT" column is right here. Transparent Yankee-baiting -- always good fun, I say, although the more I read about Joe Torre's book, the harder it becomes to satirize. It's all real, man.

You get the sense Torre would have kept Brosius, Tino, O'Neill and the rest of the gang together until the bitter end if he'd had it his way. Probably not the best plan, either, but my respect for the man has grown -- turns out he loathed all the same Yankees we did.

Well, except for Jeter. We'll grant him the exception there.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

"The difference between Kevin Brown and David Wells is that both make your life miserable, but David Wells meant to."

Great line. Love Joe Torre.

I don't put Mike Lowell atop my rather short list of concerns regarding the 2009 Boston Red Sox -- slots 1 and 1A are reserved for the health (and girth) of David Ortiz and Josh Beckett.

The Sox' fate in the new season will in large part be determined by how much production they receive from Beckett, a should-be ace coming off an underwhelming and injury-plagued season, and Papi, the once-transcendent slugger who lost an alarming amount of lightning from his bat as he battled various ailments and the cruel passage of time.

Lowell? He turns 35 in a month and reportedly is just now starting to swing the bat after a torn labrum in his hip abruptly ended his season last October. While Lowell has always been an easily admired and winning ballplayer, it's shortsighted to consider him as anything but a semi-reliable complementary piece at this point. I don't mean to diminish his importance or his contributions during his time with the Red Sox -- you wont find a teammate or, heck, probably even a fan who doesn't adore the guy -- but he is not irreplaceable. There's a reason the Red Sox pursued Mark Teixeira so vigorously -- bloodless general manager Theo Epstein is concerned that his lineup as currently constituted isn't deep enough to thrive in the fierce AL East. And I don't need to remind you who the odd man out would have been had Boston won Leigh Teixeira's heart and credit cards rather than New York.

Manny Ramirez? Sorry, Charlie. I'm talking 'bout the 6-foot-6-inch, 260-pound power-hitting on-base machine who answers to "Big Donkey."

Tell me now, when is some enterprising GM going to realize that former Reds and Diamondbacks behemoth Adam Dunn is poised to be the steal of the offseason for some shrewd and fortunate team?

And to borrow a phrase from the recent Red Sox past: Why not us?

Oh, I'm aware there are longstanding knocks against Dunn, and some are even justified. He strikes out at a Bellhornian rate. He's just a .247 career hitter. Some who watched him in Cincinnati claim he habitually pads his stats in blowouts while repeatedly faltering in the big moments. Defensively, he's so brutal that he brings to mind the old joke about Jose Canseco. What do Canseco and Michael Jackson have in common? Both wear a glove for no apparent reason. The Red Sox defense surely would suffer if they signed Dunn to play first, moved Kevin Youkilis across the diamond to third, and jettisoned Lowell. And it must be noted Toronto general manager J.P. Ricciardi, who I'm pretty sure is in the Fave Five of every baseball columnist in the country, claimed last season that Dunn doesn't like baseball.

Well, now we'll find out.

Jason Varitek has been an admired member of the Boston Red Sox for a dozen years. In some minds, he's been the face of the franchise. But never will we learn more about the man's true priorities -- not to mention the depth of his pride -- than in the coming days.

The Red Sox have a formal contract offer on the table to the soon-to-be-37-year-old catcher, and by initial appearances it is a generous one given the circumstances. The Red Sox have proposed a one-year deal for $5 million, with the team holding an option for the same amount for 2010. Should the club not pick up the option, he would still have the opportunity to return at a $3 million salary. In essence, the offer guarantees him $8 million over the next two seasons.

Yes, it's a sizable pay cut from the $10,442,000 he made last year in the final year of the four-year, $40 million deal he signed following the 2004 season. But with all sentiment removed from the equation, this much is true: It's more money than he's worth at this stage of his baseball career.

I've written this countless times this offseason during this seemingly never-ending story, so what's once more? The days when Varitek was a useful member of a lineup are gone, and they're not coming back. He's batted .222 in 614 at-bats since the All-Star break in 2007 -- a full year-and-a-half, which tells you that this isn't a slump or a trend, but the cruel reality. If he hits .240 in the coming season, chances are he got a lifetime's worth of gorks, dying quails, and groundballs with eyes.

It cannot have escaped agent Scott Boras's notice that Gregg Zaun -- a soon-to-be-38-year-old whose adjusted OPS was 14 points higher than Varitek's last season -- settled for a one-year, $1.5 million deal with Baltimore. That is the market for useful but declining catchers, and they should be grateful that the Red Sox are apparently -- and uncharacteristically -- willing to pay him for services rendered while allowing him to save face after some dubious decisions.

While we sit here patiently at TATB headquarters waiting for Jason Varitek to make up his gritty, gutty mind, why don't we take a quick and completely subjective spin through some bests and worsts in recent Red Sox history. As always, your suggestions -- except for the physically impossible ones -- are welcome in the comments . . .

Best start to a career (first week): Ted Cox, a Ted Williams-endorsed phenom who recorded a hit in his first six official big league at-bats during the 1977 season, a record that still stands. The Sox had no place for him to play and dealt him to the Indians that winter in the Eckersley deal. Good move: His career was over four years later.

Best start to a career (partial season): Sam Horn, who became a temporary folk hero by mashing 14 homers in 158 at-bats in 1987 after being recalled from Pawtucket. He might have been the Ryan Howard of his time if not for that massive hole in his swing. Instead, he's the patron saint of a message board.

Best pinch hitter: Bernie Carbo. Somewhere, Rawly Eastwick nods in agreement, then wonders yet again why his parents had to go and name him Rawly.

Worst pinch hitter: Bob Bailey. Zimmer himself would have had a better chance of getting a hit off Goose Gossage -- and he was also in better shape.

Best outfield throwing arm: Dewey, of course, though a smart-aleck contrarian could make a case for Weak-Hittin' Mark Whiten, who had an absolute laser.

Best infield throwing arm: Rick Burleson, who liked to show it off by holding the ball until the last possible second, then gunning the runner down by a half step. In a related note, his career was essentially ended after he blew out his rotator cuff.

Best defensive infielder: I imagine the consensus would be Alex Gonzalez, but I'm sticking with my man Calvin "Pokey" Reese, who had just a touch more flash and gets bonus points for recording the final out in the vanquishing of the Yankees.

Best defensive center fielder: Fred Lynn, if we're talking about a full body of work -- his great catches were a staple on "This Week In Baseball." But for one season, I've never seen anyone as consistently spectacular as Coco Crisp in 2007.

Worst defensive center fielder: Dwayne Hosey, who had an aggravating habit of doing a line dance before pursuing a fly ball.

Best hair: The Eck over Manny, by a follicle. Let's see Manny pull off his current 'do when he's 53.

Best manager: Tito, and there's absolutely no debate, so knock off the "Francoma" stuff now, nitwits. You don't know how good you have it.

Worst manager: Joe Kerrigan. Damn near sacrificed Pedro's career late in the lost '01 season for the sake of saving his own job. Overmatched and reprehensible.

Five quickie baseball tidbits while wondering why no one ever told me "Freaks and Geeks" was such a brilliant show . . .

1. I'm probably more excited about today's John Smoltz/Rocco Baldelli combo platter than I should be, given that they combined for a total of three wins and four home runs a season ago. But it's easy, especially at this time of year when summer and baseball season look so appealing, to daydream about the potential of both players. Smoltz is a pitcher we've admired for years -- I'm pretty sure he was in a Braves rotation with Warren Spahn at one point -- and given his competitiveness, his track record, and the fact that he still had his usual filthy stuff even when his shoulder was falling apart, there's pretty decent chance he could arrive midsummer just in time to give the Sox a push toward the postseason. Besides, there's really no risk to the move -- this isn't Dan Duquette banking on Bret Saberhagen or Ramon Martinez to be the No. 2 starter. If Smoltz helps, bonus. If he doesn't, well, we can still claim him as an ex-Red Sox when he goes into Cooperstown in seven or eight years. As for Baldelli, I think most Red Sox fans are happy about this move to some extent, since he's a familiar New England kid who by all accounts appreciates how fortunate he is to play major league baseball for a living. He may have been a Ray for five seasons, but he's always been our Rocco, you know? Yet while we remember his freakish raw ability when he first arrived in the big leagues -- didn't it seem like he used to throw out three Red Sox at home plate in every series (thanks, Sveum), or beat out an occasional routine grounder to short? -- he's had significant injuries to his arm and his legs, and it's hard to determine how much of his talent has been sacrificed to the scalpel. And old baseball injuries are the least of his health problems, which is how a 27-year-old player of his skill and dedication is available as an afterthought on an incentive-laden contract. No, I'm not convinced it's going to work out for him here. But I'm sincerely happy he's getting the chance.

2. Have you noticed that the Oakland A's are suddenly interesting again? Earlier this offseason, they made a surprising trade for Colorado slugger Matt Holliday (a probable rental since he is a Scott Boras client who is a free agent after the season, but one who should produce excellent numbers and/or bring a nice haul of talent at the trading deadline). Then, earlier this week, they brought Jason Giambi back to the place where he had his greatest moments, won an MVP, and got really, really, freakishly huge. Giambi, whose adjusted OPS was just 12 points lower than Holliday's last season, was a typically savvy signing by A's GM Billy Beane (someone really ought to write a book about that guy's approach -- maybe Joe Morgan could do it?). While I'm not saying the A's will overtake the Angels in the weak AL West, they are going to be better than most prognosticators think, and they're going to be compelling to watch.

So the Red Sox have signed ex-Yankee Nick Green. Wow, that ought to take the sting right out of Mark Teixeira's press conference in the Bronx tomorrow.

Sorry for leading off with cynicism -- how about we just get to my alleged point for once? Good? Good. So here goes: While working on another Red Sox-related writing project over the weekend, it hit me that the Red Sox' bench at the moment consists of exactly one (1) player with significant major league experience: Julio Cesar Lugo. And no one really wants him here to start with.

The rest of the candidates at the moment come from the Quadruple A crowd -- Chris Carter, Jeff Bailey, Jonathan Van Every, George Kottaras, Kevin Romine, and so on. While one of them might stick with the big club out of spring training -- probably Bailey, though the positionless Carter can rake -- it's apparent that Sox general manager Theo Epstein still has to make more than a few tweaks to the 25-man roster.

Unfortunately, the list of possible candidates available via free agency is less than inspiring -- Norris Hopper anyone? But there are some names who could be -- and in a couple of cases, should be -- of some interest to the Sox. As always, feel free to share your roster suggestions in the comments . . .

Rocco Baldelli: I love the idea of the Sox signing this semi-local boy and former five-tool phenom . . . as the fifth outfielder. Given his illness and his history of injuries, he simply cannot be counted on as the chief backup outfielder . . . especially on a team that starts J.D. Drew and his glass limbs.

Gabe Kapler: Swell guy, chicks dig him, but I can't help but suspect that his last two seasons with the Sox are more indicative of his ability than his surprisingly productive season with the Brewers (117 OPS+). Thanks for the memories, Gabe, but we're gonna have to pass.

Emil Brown: Adjusted OPS the past two seasons: 68, 85. On second thought, forget I even brought it up.

Jim Edmonds: He's 38 and an incurable hot dog, but he did smack 19 homers in 250 at-bats with the Cubs last season, which would be pretty valuable production from a fourth outfielder who can play all three positions. I don't like the personality, but I do like the player, still.

Man, if only they were both wearing Red Sox jerseys in that picture. Ask me, Papi's been without a buddy named Ramirez in the heart of the Sox' order for way too long.

Given that Ramirez was one of my confirmed binkies even before he'd stepped into a big-league batter's box -- I'll forever stick to my story that the reason I so underestimated Dustin Pedroia is because he played alongside the dazzling Ramirez on the '05 Sea Dogs -- you can probably guess how I reacted to the report earlier this week that the Red Sox had inquired about reacquiring their one-time phenom.

Give 'em Ellsbury, give 'em Buchholz, give 'em Lowrie, give 'em whatever it takes from the farm system, save for Lars Anderson. Just make it happen, Theo. BRING BACK HAN-RAM!!

Hey, did I mention that I like Hanley Ramirez?

Sadly, I can't quite convince myself that the actual chances of this happening -- of Ramirez returning all grown up to anchor the lineup of the organization that sent him away in November 2005 for Josh Beckett and Mike Lowell -- are or were at all realistic. The report and the subsequent fallout strikes me as the usual conjecture and fantasy that is an integral and yet entirely disposable component of baseball's winter season. It's fun, but chances are it's not entirely factual.

After all, Ramirez, who signed a six-year, $70 million extension early last season, doesn't start making the really huge bucks until 2011, the year before the Marlins are scheduled to move into a new ballpark. It's difficult to imagine they'd trade their signature player before then -- especially since the Marlins, who had a $22 million payroll last season, actually can afford him.

Yes, logic says Hanley Ramirez will remain a Marlin. But we can dream, can't we? And besides, buried in the gossip, whispers, and buzz, there is some truth to be found -- particularly, I believe, in how the Red Sox front office perceives the team's roster at the moment. Whether the baseball operations staff looked into acquiring Ramirez before or after the Red Sox were jilted by Mark Teixeira, the conclusion must be the same: Theo Epstein and friends are convinced that the Red Sox need to add an elite hitter to the lineup.

Ramirez certainly qualifies. Three full seasons into his big league career, the 25-year-old is the prototype for what a young franchise player is supposed to be . . . at least when he has a Louisville Slugger in his hands. He batted .301 with 33 home runs, 67 RBIs, 125 runs scored, and 35 stolen bases last season. Perhaps most impressively, he walked 92 times, 36 more than his previous career high.

If you missed it while enjoying your holiday festivities, this week's OT column is right here. As a bonus, I'm posting here a few of my Boston sports predictions for 2009 that didn't make the cut.

(Yep. I wrote too long. Again. But by only 500 words this time. That's what you call a craftsman's discipline, baby.)

Anyway, I'll be back with an original column Monday -- at last, one in which the names "Teixeira" and "Boras" will not be mentioned. Until then, here are few deleted scenes that left out of the OT original . . .

Feb. 10: With “Justice” written on one fist and “For Cam” on the other, the Bruins’ Milan Lucic pummels 43-year-old Sharks forward Claude Lemieux so brutally that the longtime villain attempts to announce his re-retirement while cowering on the ice. Neely proudly nods his approval from management’s box, while NESN’s Mike Milbury chucks a shoe in Lemieux’s direction for old time’s sake.

May 23: Assuming it’s no different than taking a mid-game leak inside the Green Monster, Manny Ramirez urinates on the sacred monuments beyond the left field wall at Yankee Stadium during the seventh inning of a 21-3 loss to the Phillies. The entire city of New York is aghast. The ghost of Babe Ruth, however, finds it hilarious.

June 10: The Celtics deliver the ultimate indignity to the Lakers in Game 3 of the NBA Finals when Eddie House’s grade-school-aged son, Jalen, blows past Sasha Vujacic for a reverse layup and a foul with 1:22 remaining, giving the Celtics a 133-82 lead. Vujacic retreats to the LA bench, slaps a folding chair, shakes his hand in agony, and immediately bursts into tears. Little House chest bumps his proud pop, then says: “Dad, you told me there was no crying in basketball.”

Before I skip out of here early to begin my Christmas shopping, a few final questions (and my usual semi-coherent answers) regarding yesterday's Mark Teixeira plot twist . . .

Does the addition of Teixeira make the Yankees the favorite in the AL East? Given what they're spending, it damn well better. Okay, so that's a cynical reaction. It's just that this lifelong baseball fan can't help but gag a little on the insane salary numbers, especially after reading this snippet from Buster Olney's column this morning:

"The Yankees will field the four highest-paid players in baseball history, from A-Rod (the base salary of his contract is $275 million), Derek Jeter ($189 million), Teixeira ($180 million) and Sabathia ($161 million). 'Are the Yankees aware that the country is going through a recession,' snapped a high-ranking executive. 'Are they crazy? They're going to ruin the sport."'

I agree entirely with Olney's source -- what the Yankees are doing is downright gross, and it makes me a little sickened about the condition of Major League Baseball as a whole right now. Yeah, I know, it's probably not good form for a Red Sox fan to gripe about another team's excess, particularly considering that we're all bummed that they're not the team that gets to pay Teixeira nearly $200 million dollars over the next eight seasons. But in the bigger picture, the truth is undeniable: The game has changed. The Yankees are in their own financial stratosphere now, and no other franchise -- not the Red Sox, Mets, Angels, Tigers, anyone -- is close. With their ability to essentially print money because of their new ballpark and their lucrative television network, they have reached the point where they can overbid for any single player they want, and should he struggle or falter in the New York spotlight, they can simply gulp down his salary and replace him with the next nine-digit-salaried superstar who catches their fancy. It's a stunningly unappealing way to build a baseball team -- it's always more satisfying to build through the farm system or acquire the unsung Bill Muellers and Scott Brosiuses who become cherished heroes on memorable teams -- but in the end, a championship is a championship, and they all feel pretty damn good. Around here, it's convenient this morning to say, "Well, talent isn't everything." We'd all like to believe that that Tex, CC, and A.J. will win exactly as many rings as Giambi, Mussina, and Pavano did, and that Jeter, Matsui, Posada, and Damon will age rapidly, and the Yankees will be humbled by flaws that they don't recognize right now. But at this point, it appears that they've stockpiled so much elite talent that you have to believe that the sum of the individuals will add up to a hell of an imposing team. Yeah, they're the favorite, though if there's any justice, the Red Sox and Rays will be right there with them in October. Especially the Rays.

So what's the plan now? Oh, that's easy. Chad needs some alone time after all of this prolonged Teixeira nonsense, so I plan to put on my fleece jammies, curl up with a gallon of Breyer's Mint Chocolate Chip and watch the entire Season 3 of "Grey's Anatomy" in one sitting. (Oh, silly Meredith . . . why must you be so self-destructive? Just let McDreamy love you.) Should be so cathartic. Can't wait.

No, dummy . . . what should the Red Sox' plan be now? Oh . . . that. Well, to be honest, nothing beyond the obvious stuff: Finding a catcher with a pulse (et tu, Kevin Cash?), adding more depth to the bullpen, maybe picking up a fourth or fifth starter, finding a fourth outfielder, etc. I doubt the Red Sox will pursue anyone from the second tier of free-agent bats -- Adam Dunn, Pat Burrell, Bobby Abreu -- nor should they. They are all flawed players who don't fit the Red Sox' particular needs. Teixeira was a special case, a player they have coveted for years and who fits their philosophy perfectly, and there's no one else nearly as appealing. The only semi-big-name free agent I hope they give at least a cursory look to is Ben Sheets, who, if he is healthy (big if, I know) might be the steal of the offseason. Otherwise, it's more or less the status quo, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. The Sox remain a very good team from top to bottom, and you could do much worse than having Mike Lowell as a fall-back plan

But did the Sox really need Teixeira? Absolutely, and anyone who is downplaying his talents or accomplishments today is indulging in hypocrisy simply because he did not pick their favorite team. Teixeira is a prime-of-career, switch-hitting, middle-of-the-order stud who also happens to be an outstanding defensive first baseman, and even though he's long established as a star, by all accounts he works tirelessly to become an even better ballplayer. Beyond that, it's dangerously short-sighted to believe that both Lowell and David Ortiz are certainties to return to their '07 form . . . and at this point, the Sox are more or less counting on that, as well as stellar sequels from Kevin Youkilis and Dustin Pedroia. I fear that there will be more than a few times this summer when we long for the heyday of Papi and Manny. As I said in the previous item, I believe this is still a fine, balanced baseball team. But it would have been a damn near flawless one had Teixeira chosen Boston instead.

Did Teixeira hold a grudge against the franchise for the way it handled negotiations with him coming out of high school a decade ago? Sure does look that way today, doesn't it? It was obvious that Teixeira had a long memory regarding the way Dan Duquette and his scouts supposedly manipulated him coming out of high school in '98; he's never been shy about talking about the situation. When I read yesterday that he told the Yankees they were his choice all along, I couldn't help but think he took certain satisfaction in sticking it to the Red Sox all these years later. Hey, Teixeira is frequently described as "business-like" -- it wouldn't be the first time the term was used as a euphemism for "vindictive." I bet we'll get a solid confirmation of this in the next few weeks, probably from the transparent "source close to Teixeira."

Does it feel good to hate the Yankees again? I dunno. I kind of prefer it when they are irrelevant. Baseball season is much less stressful that way.

Why didn't anyone see this coming? Well, ahem, someone did. (What, you thought I'd get through this whole thing without gloating? You people know me better than that.) Listen, Boras is obviously a master at the art of negotiation, and the logic all along suggested that when Teixeira was ready to make a decision, the agent would take the best offer to the team with the most money to see if they would top it. Further, it was beyond naive to think the Yankees -- who, you might recall, have made a habit through the years of swooping in to steal players the Red Sox are openly pursuing -- would stand by idly and allow their chief, hated, and recently more successful rival to sign the best free-agent hitter without getting involved at some significant level. Brian Cashman played this game brilliantly, though in retrospect (to most), his strategy should have been obvious, particularly to the Red Sox. If they didn't suspect, after all the dealings they've had with Boras and the Yankees through the years, that this might be happening, then either their arrogance or ignorance is off the charts. (If I had to bet, I'd say John Henry caught wind of it last week.) One more thing: Boras is an amoral, duplicitous scumbag . . . and if I could afford him, I'd absolutely hire him to negotiate my next contract, though I suspect I'd get stuck writing Yankees propaganda with a bunch of other miserable, overpaid lackeys at the YES Network website.

* * *

So there you go -- at last, it's all played out, and all the speculative words are spent. The Yankees get Teixeira, and the Red Sox are stuck, for now, with no free-agent gifts, but just a couple of lumps of coal. (Say, when's the "Welcome to Boston, Wes Littleton!" press conference?) But if we can keep it in perspective, it's easy to recognize that we've still got it "so good, so good" -- we're blessed to have an outstanding baseball team to follow, and the summer ahead just got a whole lot more interesting. Teixeira had better get some earplugs and a pith helmet for Christmas -- he's going to hear some very creative language during his first visit to Fenway. Can't wait.

On a more serious note, thanks for all of you who stop by these parts for making this such a fun, rewarding year for TATB, and I sincerely hope you enjoy the happiest of holidays. Well, except for you, Boras. Our Christmas wish is that you get trampled by a fleet of reindeer.

I'm guessing you had the same reaction that I did when you took one last peek at Boston.com or the late local news Thursday night before slipping off to bed, only to get clobbered with the stunning news that the Red Sox were "not a factor" in the Mark Teixeira sweepstakes:

You have GOT to be kidding me. (Followed by a string of unprintable words, occasionally and creatively interspersed with "greedy," "Scott Boras," "sheep," and "Teixeira.")

While I do still like to imagine an enraged John Henry having to be restrained from going over the table at Boras the precise moment the Red Sox realized their trip to Texas would be futile, the situation is apparently calmer and still somewhat hopeful the day after, and the Sox are still in the mix, and possibly the favorites, by most educated guesstimates. The rumors are flying from all directions -- the Nationals have secretly made an enormous offer, the Yankees say they're out of it, the Angels are playing it coy, and so on and so forth -- but it seems it could a be a few days longer before the ultimate question of the offseason, at least from a Sox fan's perspective, is answered:

Where will Mark Teixeira play next season and beyond?

While we we continue to wait for that answer -- and to see if Boras calls Henry's apparent bluff -- we figured we'd throw a few more Teixeira-related Qs and As your way just for the sport of it . . .

Do the Red Sox really need this guy? More than most faithful fans are willing to admit. There are countless reasons why we unconditionally admire both David Ortiz and Mike Lowell, but if sentiment is completely removed from the equation, one simply must be skeptical that both of them can remain healthy for the majority of next season. Meanwhile, the 28-year-old Teixeira is in the heart of his prime, is a true switch-hitter, has a career adjusted OPS of 134, averages roughly 160 games per season, might be the best defensive first baseman in the game (he is absolutely better than Youkilis), works pitchers relentlessly (last year he walked more than he struck out), has the reputation of being a Boy Scout off the field (yeah, a money-grubbing Boy Scout, but a Boy Scout nonetheless), and, should he sign with the Sox, gives them a daily lineup that would look something like this:

CF Ellsbury
2B Pedroia
1B Money-Grubbing Boy Scout
3B Youkilis
DH Papi
LF Bay
RF Drew
SS Lowrie
C Varitek or a living replacement

Impressive, no? With Teixeira, that's as balanced a lineup as you'll find, 1 through 7. Without him and with Lowell, it looks more like a lovely collection of No. 5 hitters, particularly if Youkilis falls off slightly from his sensational and thus far career-best 2008 season, and it makes it much more tenable to carry a no-hit catcher. Bluntly, Teixeira is the lineup anchor they need in the post-Manny era. I shouldn't have to remind you that it was the offense, and not the pitching, that let down the Sox in the end a season ago.

But what about Lars Anderson? Wouldn't Teixeira's arrival block his path to the big leagues? The foolishness of that argument -- which seems to pop up in the comments section with some regularity -- drives me nuts. Hey, I love my Sea Dogs, and I'm as giddy as the next "Baseball America" junkie when the annual Prospect Handbook shows up in the mailbox. But to suggest the Red Sox should pass on signing a player of Teixeira's credentials -- their ideal player, more or less -- simply because they have in their farm system a supremely talented 21-year-old with exactly 41 games of experience at Double A who happens to play the same position . . . well, let's just say we should hope the Yankees make such ill-considered decisions. Anderson might be a star someday. If had to bet, I'd say he probably will be a star -- the similarities to Justin Morneau are impossible not to recognize. But one glance at this list tells you no young player, save for the occasional Griffey or A-Rod, is a mortal-lock superstar. And among established big leaguers, there are few surer things heading into the next several seasons than Mark Teixeira.

Is there anything unappealing about Teixeira as a player or person? There might be when he's making $23 million at age 36, but right now, he's about as flawless an offensive player as you'll find. Well, okay, he's stolen just 13 bases in his career, just three more than noted speedster David Ortiz, so he's not exactly a burner. But that's not even worth a nitpick given his overall production and the general meaninglessness of steals. I suppose some might says he's too business-like and image-conscious, but I suspect those are attributes that Theo Epstein puts in the "positives" column, and it does seem like his teammates enjoy him. He's not narcissistic A-Rod businesslike. He's responsible adult businesslike. Big difference.

Is Scott Boras the really anti-Christ? No, Drew Rosenhaus is -- anyone who has T.O. as a client automatically gets that designation. But Boras is definitely in his cabinet. Also, Rosie O'Donnell has an argument.

For a little historical perspective, who are the five most similar players to Teixeira all time?

Well, since you asked nicely:

CAREER

Miguel Cabrera -- Encouraging -- he's a future Hall of Famer if he keeps his weight below the Sabathia Zone.

Glenn Davis -- An '80s slugger whose career was cut short by a neck injury.

Zeke Bonura -- No idea. Maybe he plays for the Pirates?

Bob Horner -- Wow, that makes two fat guys on this list. Teixeira seems like
the type who'd have a nutritionist, though.

Ripper Collins -- Batted .296 with 135 homers in a nine-year career, mostly in the '30s. Sounds more like a Youkilis-type.

However, Teixeira has better company . . .

. . .THROUGH AGE 28

Carlos Delgado

Kent Hrbek

Fred McGriff

Jim Thome

Will Clark

. . . and the next two on the list are Jeff Bagwell and Willie McCovey. (We'll conveniently stop here, before we're obliged to mention that Richie Sexson is in the No. 8 spot. Whoops, my bad.)

So for the $180-million question . . . where does Teixeira end up once Boras stops playing his reindeer games and ends the charade? Despite Brian Cashman's "dude, it ain't us" denial this morning when asked if the Yankees had outbid the Sox, I still refuse to believe that they have no interest -- they need him more than the Red Sox do, and with their resources, they can make it happen with one call to Boras. Maybe I should put it another way: If they honestly aren't going to leap in with a monster offer for Teixeira, then their management team is less devious and much stupider than I've long believed. That said . . . there are too many people with more insight and knowledge than the doofus you're reading right now who believe that Teixeira will eventually end up with the Sox. I do agree that John Henry's missive last night was just a negotiating ploy, and a savvy one at that. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm coming around to that optimistic way of thinking, but given the bizarre and excruciating way this whole situation has dragged out, I'm not officially going to believe Mark Teixeira will be a member of the Boston Red Sox until Big Papi has him in one of his "welcome to the club, Bro" bear hugs during the first day of camp in Ft. Myers. And not a day sooner.

While we wait . . . and wait . . . and wait . . . for Scott Boras to decide where Mark Teixeira is going to cash his obscene paychecks the next 8-10 years, let's take a chronological spin through the Red Sox' most notable and significant free agent signings since Theo Epstein was named general manager on Nov. 25, 2002 . . .

Dec. 24, 2002
Signed righthanded reliever Mike Timlin to a one-year, $1.85 million contract: Sure, Timlin might not know how to say goodbye -- his tenure here was at least a season too long -- but for the majority of his six seasons with the Sox, he was a true rarity, a setup man who is consistent and effective from season to season. It was a career worthy of his pride, and a pretty savvy first move by the young GM. (No, signing Ryan Rupe a couple of days before adding Timlin does not count. That was a practice signing for Theo.) Grade: B+

Dec. 29, 2002
Signed righthanded swingman Ramiro Mendoza to a two-year, $6.5 million contract: His greatest accomplishment with the Sox? Inspiring the term "The Embedded Yankee." He couldn't have looked more sheepish while receiving his World Series ring on Opening Day, 2005. He knew he had failed his mission. Grade: F

Jan. 14, 2003
Signed third baseman Bill Mueller to a two-year, $4.2 million contract with a club option for 2005: For someone who preferred to let others have the limelight, he sure had his share of spectacular moments and unforgettable accomplisments in Boston: The batting championship, the grand slams from each side of the plate one hot August night in Texas, the homer off Mo Rivera during the symbolic victory during the 2004 regular season . . . and of course, the single that plated Dave Roberts after The Steal. It's no wonder he remains universally admired by Sox fans, and it's too bad his career ended so abruptly. Grade: A

Jan. 22, 2003
Signed designated hitter David Ortiz to a one-year, $1.25 million contract: If there's a more important personnel move in franchise history, it hasn't happened yet. Grade: A+++++++ (pluses to infinity)

* * *

Dec. 13, 2003
Signed righthanded closer Keith Foulke to a three-year, $20.75 million contract with a fourth-year option: One of the many remarkable things about the Sox' run to the championship in 2004 was that virtually everyone on the postseason roster contributed in some meaningful way. But Foulke, along with Big Papi and Curt Schilling, were downright legendary throughout the playoffs, and it would be a shame -- not to mention an indictment of Red Sox fans -- if the closer who very possibly sacrificed the remainder of his career to win that championship is remembered for anything other than that. Grade: A

* * *

Dec. 14, 2004
Signed lefthanded starter David Wells to a two-year, $8 million contract: The Sox got one decent year (15 wins, ERA+ of 102), one injury-plagued year, and more than a few headaches. Pretty much what they should have expected, in other words. Grade: C

Dec. 17, 2004
Signed shortstop Edgar Renteria to a four-year, $40 million contract: Hate to admit it, because I loved this signing at the time, but it turned out Tony La Russa was right; the quiet shortstop never got comfortable during his one season in the Boston spotlight. Of course, it didn't help his cause that there were shortstops in the Egyptian Mummies Senior Co-Ed Baseball League who had better range. Ah, at least they're finally done paying him. Grade: D

Dec. 22, 2004
Signed righthanded starter Matt Clement to a three-year, $25 million contract: The Red Sox formally added Clement five days after completing the Renteria deal. In retrospect, the franchise would have been better served had Theo spent that week following Pearl Jam around South America. Grade: C-

Dec. 24, 2004
Re-signed catcher Jason Varitek to a four-year, $40 million contract: None of the usual Tek-deriding snark today; hey, this turned out to be a fair deal for both sides. Grade: B

. . . while desperately hoping the power has been restored by the time I get home. I would have made a lousy pilgrim . . .

I understand why Danny Ainge might have cursory interest in Stephon Marbury -- he's mimicking the Red Auerbach philosophy that if you bring add a talented malcontent to a winning team with a strong and established group of leaders, he will have no choice but to get in line and behave or get lost. And it always was fun when Red would bring in perceived headcases and troublemakers -- Robert Parish and Dennis Johnson among them -- and they would often become vital contributors for the Celtics. But I think Marbury is a different case -- he's the ultimate me-first player, always has been, and always will be, and I don't think anything is going to change him at this point, including a chance to salvage his career with an outstanding team. Hell, I doubt he even believes his career needs salvaging. He's incurable. I would, however, be curious to find out what the "brain doctor" Ainge consults would make of Marbury. I suspect he would report there was no activity whatsoever.

* * *

While cursing Buffalo's "Dumb and Dumber" duo of Dick Jauron and J.P. Losman Sunday, I realized that we don't have a Patriots Enemies List here at TATB like the one we periodically update during baseball season for the Sox. So, with Jauron and Losman as members of our inaugural class of nitwits and villains, here are a couple of other names off the top of my head that should join them:

Ryan Clark: The hit on Welker might not have been illegal, but it was damn sure dirty.

Brett Favre: Consider it a Lifetime Achievement Award.

Channing Crowder: He's like Joey Porter's mouthier, less talented brother, which, in the case of the former, is saying something.

Eric Mangini: King rat.

ESPN: Every last one of 'em but Jaws.

Ty Law: For taking the Jets' dirty money.

Plaxico Burress For not shooting himself in the leg before the Super Bowl.

Bernard Pollard: Imagine how we'd loathe him if Matt Cassel hadn't played so well.

I know there's some obvious enemies I'm missing, so feel free to chime in with your own.

* * *

Sure, he's so brittle that it's been suggested he change his last name to Pavano -- okay, you got me, I just made that up -- but I still think there's a very good chance that former Brewer Ben Sheets could end up being the steal of this year's free agent pitching class. He has the stuff of a legitimate ace -- when he's right, his breaking ball is absolutely untouchable -- and he's apparently a hellacious competitor, which is something not often said about the pitcher most similar to Sheets statistically, according to baseball-reference.com: the ridiculously overpaid A.J. Burnett. I hope the Red Sox have done their due diligence with the 30-year-old righthander, because if the price is reasonable, I have no doubt that he's a risk worth taking. (In a related note, check out Burnett's top three similarity scores: Juan Guzman, Sheets, Ben McDonald. Yikes. Somewhere, Brian Cashman just sucker-punched himself, then slapped himself in the face to emphasize the point. Oh, yes, the meltdown is going to be fun.)

* * *

While it was a typically disingenuous move by the Red Sox' marketing wizards -- I'm pretty sure Mike Dee would go on camera to tell us the fans just love them even as an angry mob wearing classic Sox caps pillaged Fenway in the background -- I've got no problem with the uniform tweaks. Then again, I grew up in an era when they wore this, so anything would look classy by comparison.

Playing nine innings while snickering that the Yankees have almost replaced Mike Mussina's 20 wins . . .

1. When the topic is Mark Teixeira and free agency, I have held two beliefs all along: 1) He's going to get at least $200 million. 2) The winning bid will come from the Yankees. I remain convinced of No. 1. I'm no longer convinced of No. 2, though if I had to bet, I still say the Yankees, whose offense was just as mediocre last season as their pitching staff, are going to swoop in with the insane offer Scott Boras has been waiting for, just as they did for Johnny Damon after the 2005 season. Part of this is my lifelong (but recently dormant) Yankees paranoia talking, but if they threw 10 years and $250 million Teixeira's way Thursday morning, I wouldn't be surprised. As someone who has coveted Teixeira in Boston since Texas first put him on the market midway through the '07 season, you know I'm desperately hoping the Sox are the team that makes him the proverbial Offer He Can't Refuse, though I'm also preparing myself to be disappointed. I want to believe all of the vague reports coming out of the Bellagio that the Sox are the frontrunner for the 28-year-old slugging first baseman, but then I remember that Theo Epstein is essentially giving reporters the mime treatment and Scott Boras isn't offering too many updates from his lair, either, and I can't help but think the notion is little more than the speculation at this point. Teixeira has said he wants to know his destination before Christmas. I hope it's settled much sooner than that. The anticipation is exhausting.

2. Jon Lester should be the Sox' next target for a long-term contract. Jonathan Papelbon seems intent on gambling that he will remain healthy and dominant long enough to hit the jackpot in free agency, and it's still to be determined whether Kevin Youkilis will continue to be the force he was in '08, or whether it was a career year -- I want to see him do it again. I have no doubt that Lester, assuming he avoids significant injury, is going to become one of the game's premier lefthanders for the next 5-6 years. And in certain ways he's already a franchise icon, though I suppose the same could be said for Papelbon and Youkilis to a lesser degree.

3. If the reports that the Yankees will offer Derek Lowe a four-year, $66 million deal are true, he'd be nuts to turn it down, simply because of the ridiculous amount of loot. But baseball-wise, D-Lowe in the Bronx might be doomed to fail. Lowe is master at getting groundballs, as you might recall, and the Yankees' infield defense isn't exactly conducive to supporting a sinkerballer, as you also might recall. To put it another way: There are statues on Easter Island that have better range than Jump-Throwin' Jeter at this point, and second baseman Robinson Cano considers defense an excellent time to catch up on his sleep. I can see Lowe's first season stats in New York now: 12 wins, 14 losses, 4.36 ERA, 203 innings, 356 hits, 222 of which would be groundball singles up the middle.

4. Just for the fun of it, here's how I currently rank the Red Sox' Big Four pitching prospects in terms of value:

1. Justin Masterson. A little bit of The Eck, a little bit of D-Lowe. Untouchable.

2. Clay Buchholz. Yes, he was shockingly brutal a season ago, and there are questions about his makeup. But he has the stuff and his health, and it wasn't that long ago he was one the premier prospects in baseball. I'd be shocked if the Red Sox sold low, though a deal for Jarrod Saltalamacchia makes plenty of sense.

3. Michael Bowden. The opposite of Buchholz. He's a bulldog by all accounts -- I loved Sea Dogs manager Arnie Beyeler's comments to Adam Kilgore after Bowden's debut -- but I'm not the only one who isn't quite convinced that he has a top starter's repertoire.

4. Daniel Bard. An unreal arm -- it seems like he hits 98 effortlessly -- but the couple of times I saw him in Portland, he really made the catcher work. Watching him made me appreciate Papelbon's command for some reason.

5. I was never much of a Greg Maddux fan -- I was always more entertained by the flash of Pedro Martinez in his prime, or even the rage of Roger Clemens in those suspicious seasons after the twilight of his career should have arrived. Heck, among among the Braves, I enjoyed watching John Smoltz and his electric slider more. (Brief aside: I'm on board with the thought of the Sox signing him, provided it's an incentive-laden deal.) But I was smart enough to appreciate Maddux, and I actually found myself wishing he'd hang around a little longer for this reason: Once he's gone, there's a good chance we'll never see anyone quite like him again. Maddux's accomplishments are staggering -- he won at least 15 games for 17 straight seasons -- but I think his most impressive feat is posting back to back adjusted ERAs of 271 and 262 in 1994-95, the fourth- and fifth-best ERA+ seasons in history. He was every bit as dominating as Pedro during the steroid era, just in a subtler way.

Word is that the Red Sox will meet with free agent pitcher CC Sabathia at some point soon, perhaps even today. If all goes to plan -- make that if all goes according to my plan -- the Red Sox will offer the big lefty a huge sack of Dunkin' Donuts most delicious pastries, thank him again for his outstanding work in the 2007 American League Championship Series, and strongly and repeatedly emphasize this point:

Geez, whaddaya waiting for, Carsten? Take the Yankees' money already! Take it! TAKE IT!

Oh, sure, it's been great fun imagining the Yankees' front office honchos squirming as Sabathia left New York's blockbuster six-year, $140-million offer hanging like an Ian Kennedy breaking ball. Heck, we've reveled in it -- schadenfreude is always acceptable when the discussion concerns the Yankees.

And by not accepting or rejecting the proposal but instead letting it linger for nearly three weeks while Hank Steinbrenner stomps on all of his favorite Little People villages in a rage, the implication is that the Yankees literally can't pay him enough to pitch there. Such a notion is a nice twist from a decade or so ago, when every free agent superstar from Mike Mussina to Jason Giambi desired to go to New York for validation and a championship ring or three. Funny how that worked out.

But as I was enjoying the Yankees' frustrating stint in baseball purgatory, I was hit by a realization that, frankly, I should have been aware of all along:

What the Yankees believe is the best thing for them also might be the best thing for the Red Sox.

Look at it this way: If Sabathia ultimately does reject the Yankees, there should be no doubt in our minds that New York will immediately put the full-court press on the player the Red Sox truly covet, one Mark Charles Teixeira. And presuming the Yankees do offer him the most money, I'm sure Teixeira, who allegedly wore No. 23 in Texas in honor of Don Mattingly, will have no qualms about donning pinstripes, so long as the checks continue to clear.

And like that, the Red Sox' best-laid plans would go up in smoke. Losing this particular player to the Yankees would be so frustrating, Theo might smash some hotel furniture for real this time.

Now, I realize a certain blindly loyal segment of the Sox fandom will collectively shriek when it reads this, but the Red Sox do need Teixeira, and the reason is obvious: It would be foolish to assume that both Lowell and David Ortiz are going to be healthy and highly productive this season, let alone for the seasons beyond. I do hope both extremely admirable ballplayers bounce back and put up prime-of-career numbers, and maybe they will. But common sense suggests they won't, and if the Sox don't sign the 28-year-old, remarkably durable Teixeira, they could find themselves in desperate need of a legitimate slugger in the coming seasons. Lars Anderson is a wonderful prospect -- he may be the second coming of Justin Morneau -- but teams with annual World Series aspirations simply do not count the rapid development of a kid who's spent all of a half-season in Double A.

Three quick items, then an actual column for once:

1) No, I haven't gone into semi-retirement. Today's OT column is right here. For the record, I usually write the OT piece on Tuesdays, which is why there's usually nothing new here then, and yesterday I didn't post because I got caught up chasing and updating the Pedroia news, and then my beloved feline Otis got run over by a speeding Segway, and . . . well, you get the point: If I haven't written here, there's usually a pretty good reason. So step off, yo.

2) You know I love the Pedroia signing for both sides -- now that's how a contract negotiation should go -- and Pedroia's this-is-where-I-want-to-be comments at the press conference were almost enough to melt a cynic's heart. If this didn't immediately remind you of the deal Nomar signed after his rookie season, you must be someone who boarded the bandwagon in the last decade. Hopefully, this player/city love affair ends better than that one did. If Pedroia can just avoid suspiciously bizarre wrist injuries, refuse to allow himself to become paranoid, and politely hang up the phone when SI calls to ask him to pose semi-nude (but tastefully done) for the cover, he should be all set.

3) Does Brian Sabean even watch baseball?

Anyway, what I wanted to write about yesterday -- before Pedroia went out and somehow made us appreciate him even more -- is the Baseball Hall of Fame ballot, which was revealed Monday. Six of the 23 candidates played for the Red Sox, from Boston lifer Jim Rice, to the complicated Mo Vaughn, to David Cone and Rickey Henderson, both of whom were swilling Metamucil, exaggerating their youthful feats, and muttering "Back in my day . . ." by the time they called Fenway Park home. Here's a look at all six, with my usual mildly informed take on each individual's chances of induction Jan. 12

David Cone: Despite what the YES Network propaganda machine might suggest, Cone, who didn't win 200 games, let alone the magical 300, is not even a borderline Hall of Famer, though I suspect his media savvy and big-market accomplishments will help him win more than enough support to remain on the ballot for a few years. But there's no denying the man was a hell of a talent and an even better competitor, and he would have been on the short list of pitchers from his time to start a must-win game, which is essentially the best thing you can say about any hurler. I enjoyed his lone season with the Red Sox (2001), when that lights-out repertoire of his prime had deserted him and the only useful thing he usually took to the mound every fifth day was his guile. Sometimes and somehow, that was enough. His duel with Mike Mussina that season remains one of the most memorable regular season games from the past decade or so, though I can't say I enjoyed it: The only thing I despised more than the Yankees in those days was Carl Everett, whose single prevented Mussina from pitching a perfect game.

Andre Dawson: The Hawk is one of those players -- along with Steve Garvey, Alan Trammell, and Jack Morris -- I was certain would be a Hall of Famer when he was playing, but his post-career legacy has been hurt by the advances of statistical analysis and voters' fading memories. Dawson owns some requisite Hall-worthy numbers (438 homers, 318 stolen bases, eight Gold Gloves), but he also had just a .279 batting average and a .323 on-base percentage, and I think it gets held against him that he won one of the most dubious MVP awards in recent history, in 1987 for the last-place Cubs. Ultimately, though, I remember him as one of the finest all-around players of his time, one who would have accomplished even greater things had his knees not been destroyed by the cement turf in Montreal. I think he belongs in the Hall of Fame, and with 62 percent of the vote last year, he might even get there.

Rickey Henderson: How much of a first-ballot lock is Rickey? Let us consider something Bill James wrote in his revised "Historical Baseball Abstract" a few years ago:

Somebody asked me did I think Rickey Henderson was a Hall of Famer. I told them, "If you could split him in two, you'd have two Hall of Famers." The greatest base stealer of all time, the greatest power/speed combination of all time (except maybe Barry Bonds), the greatest leadoff man of all time, one of the top five players of all time in runs scored . . . yeah, I think that might make a man a Hall of Famer. Without exaggerating one inch, you could find fifty Hall of Famers who, taken together, don't own as many records, and as many important records, as Rickey Henderson.

Yes, Rickey is as automatic as automatic gets, though a misguided nitwit or two will surely leave him off the ballot just to ensure he's not the first player elected unanimously. With his inevitable election comes one of the most eagerly anticipated induction speeches of all time, for it almost certainly will be spoken entirely in the third person. (Manny Ramirez's should also be a linguistic gem when the day comes.) Rickey is not only one of the greatest players in the game's history, but he also ranks high on the list of memorable characters, and hey, wasn't the Hall of Fame made for figures like him?

Jim Rice: It is, of course, Jim Ed's final year on the ballot, and in a completely subjective way, I hope he gets in. Does he deserve to? Well, that's been a matter of debate for almost 15 years now, and I'm still not sure. His honest numbers are more appealing now in the aftermath of the steroid era, he had five top-five MVP finishes, and my mind's eye remembers Rice and George Brett as the most dominating all-around hitters in the AL during that late-'70s, early-'80s stretch. But I also realize that isn't the most foolproof argument -- if "Fire Joe Morgan" hadn't shuttered its windows, those guys could have some snarky fun riddling that last sentence with bullets -- and whenever I read something such as, say, James's "Historical Abstract" piece that makes a compelling case that Roy White might have been Rice's superior as a player, I can't shake the feeling that Rice doesn't quite belong belong. And you know what? I don't think he's getting in. I realize he was just 16 votes shy a year ago, receiving 72.2 percent of the vote, and that the 20 previous players to receive more than 70 percent of the vote but less than the 75 percent needed for enshrinement were eventually elected. (I really need to get a copy of longtime Red Sox publicist Dick Bresciani's case for Rice.) But I'm just not sure that enough voters will change their minds this time around. Hope I'm wrong.

. . . well, sort of.

Here's the deal. Peter Abraham, my friend (all right, my Facebook friend -- does that count?) who covers the Yankees for the Journal News in New York, wrote a blog post this morning listing, in order, the 20 most important members of the Yankees' organization as of today.

It was a fun read, entirely subjective, and thought-provoking. And since I remain in a turkey-induced haze today and completely whiffed on coming up with original ideas, I figured it might be cool to apply the same concept to the Red Sox. So here you go.

I'll follow Peter's simple rule: The person must be a member of the Red Sox organization right now. (Sorry, Captain Tek, a.k.a. The Currently Unemployed Omnipotent Gritty Gutty Game-Calling Savant.) Players, scouts, executives, and even Wally the Green Monster are eligible for our list. You can even include inanimate objects (Don Orsillo) if you so desire. But no gastropods. (Sorry, Dale.)

Again . . . this is subjective, and purposefully vague on guidelines. Feel free to tell me, in your usual gentle way, who I missed or who should be higher or lower. As always, I reserve the right to change my mind. Let's go . . .

1. John Henry: Because in these economic times, the dude who signs the checks gets top billing, that's why.

2. Theo Epstein: This is his show, and it's a runaway hit. His youthful vision of turning the Red Sox into a "$100 million player development machine" has become a delightful reality (though the $100 million part turned out to be something of a conservative estimate). It is ironic that the lifelong Red Sox fan is the franchise's first GM that we're aware of who doesn't allow his judgment to be clouded by sentiment.

3. Dustin Pedroia: Remember when Nomar Garciaparra was young, before the wrist injury and the bitterness? Remember when he played with such intense, absolute passion and seemed to scorch a line drive every time he came to the plate? Remember when he was the face of the franchise and every ball-playing kid in New England had his mannerisms down pat? That's Pedroia right now. And man, what a joy it is to behold again.

4. Jon Lester: There's been a lot of talk this offseason regarding possible contract extensions for Pedroia, Kevin Youkilis, and Jonathan Papelbon. Lester, an amalgam of Andy Pettitte, Bruce Hurst, and Chuck Finley, should also be getting such consideration after putting his name on the short list of baseball's best lefthanders last season.

5. Terry Francona: The ideal manager for this team, in this town, at this time -- and in my opinion, the best in the game, even if his loyalty to the Timlins of the universe is sometimes maddening. The Red Sox are fortunate to have him, and the miserable among us who take delight in bashing him will miss him when someone else is occupying the hot seat.

6. Josh Beckett: You tell me if he's spent more time this offseason working out like a maniac or crushing Bud cans on Mike Timlin's forehead in a hunting blind somewhere, and I'll tell you whether he's more likely to duplicate 2007 (21 wins) or 2008 (12 wins, a string of nagging injuries). My hunch is that he's coming back with a vengeance.

7. David Ortiz: Papi's five most similar players through age 32: 1) Jason Giambi. 2) Carlos Delgado. 3) Mo Vaughn. 4) Lance Berkman. 5) Fred McGriff. Honestly, I'm not really sure how to interpret that in terms of how it bodes for his future, so do with it what you will.

8. Daisuke Matsuzaka: Sure, those five-inning, 115-pitch starts can be exhausting to watch, but more often than not he makes it work for him. Two years into that famous $52 million deal, he's been a bargain on the field (33 wins), and you can't put a price on the cachet he's given the Red Sox in Japan.

9. Kevin Youkilis: Youuuuukkkk made himself into an offensive force through hard work and sheer determination, and his ability to play both first and third is invaluable -- I can't imagine even Billy Beane thought he'd become this good. But I do wonder if he's as untouchable as some might think. He'll be 30 by Opening Day, and his value has never been higher. (NOTE TO SI.COM AND ROUGHLY 300 OTHER SEMI-LITERATE NITWITS: I AM NOT SAYING THE RED SOX WILL TRADE KEVIN YOUKILIS!!!! NOR AM I SUGGESTING THEY SHOULD!!! I'M SIMPLY CONSIDERING ALL LOGICAL OPTIONS, BECAUSE WE KNOW THAT'S WHAT THEO DOES!!! WHAT'S THAT??? WHY AM I WRITING IN ALL CAPS WITH LOTS OF PUNCTUATION?!?! BECAUSE I AM TRYING TO SPEAK YOUR LANGUAGE IN THE HOPES THAT YOU WILL GET THE POINT THIS TIME!!!!!! THAT'S WHY!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! . . . ahem).

10. Jonathan Papelbon: He became such a vital and identifiable member of the ball club so quickly that you almost think of him as a member of the '04 champions, forgetting that he was Single A then. He owns a career 1.84 ERA, a 0.93 WHIP, and a natural gift for interpretive dance.

Playing a quick Nine Innings while starting to think Jason Varitek has seen the light . . .

1. Is Mike Mussina a Hall of Famer? Absolutely in my mind, and I believed as much even before he got that elusive 20-win season on his resume. It's nice he achieved the supposed milestone, but ultimately it's just a random, rounded-off number -- his career would have been just as impressive to me had he won 19 games last season. Mussina pitched at remarkably high and consistent level for a long time, winning at least 11 games in every season of his 17-year career, and it's interesting to note that his most similar historical comparisons on baseball-reference.com include another former Baltimore great, Jim Palmer. I often thought of him as being to Greg Maddux what Tim Raines was to Rickey Henderson -- a contemporary who was similar in style but punished for being not as great. And here's one for the Neyers of the world: How many pitchers have retired after winning 20 games the previous season? The only one I could think of off the top of my head was Sandy Koufax, who earned 27 wins in his final season, 1966. I'm sure this was mentioned in a lot of Mussina's retirement stories, but I guess I missed it.

2. After the comments Mark Teixeira has made the last couple of days, I have a hunch that there's already a leader in the clubhouse concerning where he will play next season and beyond. I just can't make up my mind if it's the Red Sox or his hometown Orioles. And not for a moment am I discounting the Yankees in this, either -- anyone who thinks the Nick Swisher deal precludes them from signing Teixeira simply hasn't been paying attention. Man, I so hope the Sox win the sweepstakes. He's the perfect fit.

3. The longer the $140-million-plus offer hangs out there unanswered, the more convinced I become that CC Sabathia wouldn't play for the New York Yankees even if they promised to let him DH and bat cleanup on the days he's not pitching. I'd love to hear what Hank the Tank is saying behind the scenes.

4. Gotta believe the Sox are at least somewhat serious in their pursuit of A.J. Burnett, if only because the other suggested motivation -- that they are simply driving up the cost for the Yankees -- really doesn't make a whole lot of sense considering sticker prices obviously no longer matter whatsoever in the Bronx.

5. I do love the idea of the Sox kicking the tires on Brad Penny, a hard-throwing beast who finished third in the NL Cy Young voting in 2007, but ultimately, I think some pitching-desperate team will commit to a longer deal than the Red Sox are interested in giving. (By the way, Penny's baseball-reference.com page lists him at 200 pounds. That's the most blatantly misleading player weight since the '98 Red Sox media guide had El Guapo checking in at 215.)

Just a brief note to point you in the direction of my new "OT" piece on Big Papi, which is posted here. I'm a little disheartened that I'm getting a lot of e-mail from Sox fans who took it as a suggestion that Theo Epstein should deal him this offseason. That was not my intent -- what I'd aimed to say is that if Papi is indeed beginning to decline and the end of his Sox career is nearer than any of us care to believe, I hope it comes on good terms, because the tradition of ugly endings and spiteful departures for Red Sox stars needs to end.

As for this corner of Boston.com, I've just got this quick and silly follow-up post today. Hey, cut me some slack -- it's my birthday. (Twenty-nine again. Go figure.) I haven't nailed down what I'm getting for loot, but an interrogation of my 4-year-old revealed that it has "frosting on it," so I figure I'm either getting a cake or something that pops out of a cake. Either way, I win, right?

Anyway, just wanted to make a couple of additions to our list of the all-time most talented minor league teams. This first one was sent in by reader John M.:

1986 PITTSFIELD CUBS: We have a new leader in the clubhouse as the best minor league assemblage of talent of all time, and it happened fairly recently right here in Massachusetts. These Cubbies-to-be featured Rafael Palmeiro, who was a Hall of Fame lock (569 homers) before destroying his legacy with steroids, as well as a pair of still active pitchers who debuted in the majors that season -- Jamie Moyer and Greg Maddux, who have combined for 601 big league victories. As a bonus, the Pittsfield roster also included Red Sox great Damon Berryhill (in his prime, he was what Jason Varitek is now), as well as someone named Pookie Bernstine, who I'm pretty sure is a character in one of my kids' books. (A bumbling but good-intentioned bear, if I recall correctly. Wait, that's me.)

And one I thought of myself . . .

1987 GASTONIA RANGERS: Sammy Sosa, Juan Gonzalez, Dean Palmer, Bill Haselman. That's a combined 1,365 major league homers -- 1,318 if you deduct Haselman's 47. Others of note: surly former Red Sox second baseman Rey Sanchez, and one-time 15-game winner Roger Pavlik.

One last thing: The Sox must have one or two loaded farm clubs in the early to mid '70s, given the amount of top-notch talent the farm system produced in in that era: Carlton Fisk, Cecil Cooper, Dwight Evans, Ben Oglivie, Juan Beniquez, and a little later, Fred Lynn, Jim Rice, and Rick Burleson. Any insight on this would be appreciated here at TATB headquarters.

Every now and then, I'll get an e-mail from a Red Sox fan telling me they recognized greatness in Dustin Pedroia way back in 2005, when he was a Portland Sea Dog.

I even believe some of them.

Okay, that was snide. I'm just a little defensive today, that's all. You see, it seems I've been tagged with the reputation as an Original Pedroia Skeptic, someone who was convinced early on that the Red Sox' dynamic second baseman -- and as you might have heard, the 2008 American League Most Valuable Player -- couldn't play.

While such a reputation is fair to an extent -- I may or may not have mentioned the name "Brent Abernathy" in semi-jest while describing what I saw during Pedroia's early days as a slightly chubby young Sea Dog -- I swear I was not one of those twits who pegged him as another David Eckstein simply because he was tiny and pasty and a little bit precious. I thought he was more of a Jody Reed-type -- a .280 hitter who'd dent the wall for 40 or so doubles and provide a steady if unspectacular glove at second base. I didn't consider that an insult.

Sure, I might be a big dummy. Hell, I am a big dummy. But I'm not an Evan Grant-level dummy. So I've got that going for me, which is nice.

While I admit I still have a hard time wrapping my head around the concept that the MVP Scoreboard now reads Pedey 1, PedroNomarMannyPapi 0, in all honesty I haven't been happier that a Sox player won a major award since . . . well, since I was 8 and Jim Rice stole the '78 AL MVP from the Yankees' Ron Guidry. Back then, we had to settle for those sorts of moral victories. Especially that year.

Pedroia deserved this, and I imagine every Sox fan outside of the Youkilis household is wholly thrilled for him. Before his time with the Red Sox is done, Pedroia might be the most popular player in franchise history, and there's not a consonant of hyperbole in that statement. There's just so much to like, from his Tanner Boyle attitude, to his grip-it-and-rip-it approach at the plate, to his relentless effort from Game 1 to 162 and beyond. He is an absolute joy to watch, and his style and regular-dude appearance make him a perfect example to kids that great things can be accomplished if you set your mind to them.

First, the usual disclaimer: Predicting where free agents will end up is an exercise in futility.

General managers -- even the less-than-savvy ones -- rarely reveal their honest intentions at this time of year, thus there are more myths, half-truths, and creative interpretations of facts floating around than you'll find in one of Scott Boras's "books" on his free agent clients.

But man, it is such a fun exercise in futility, and though we go into knowing we'll likely be spectacularly wrong yet again, here's our semi-educated guess as where many of this year's marquee free agents will ultimately end up. Just spare me the embarrassment and don't hold me to 'em three years from now, okay?

Mark Teixeira: There is one report this morning speculating that the Yankees' acquisition of Nick Swisher (a shrewd low-risk, high-reward move) means that New York isn't as eager to bid on the Angels' slugging first baseman as everyone believes. I don't buy it for a nanosecond. This strikes me as another case of Brian Cashman attempting to hide in the weeds before swooping down to get his man, just as he did with Johnny Damon after the 2005 season. As much as I want Teixeira to end up with the Red Sox -- and as much as I believe the Red Sox sincerely covet him -- I simply can't convince myself that they are going to win a bidding war with the Yankees when -- not if, when -- it comes to that. He'll end up in pinstripes, and the length and terms will be staggering.

CC Sabathia: Big ol' Carsten Charles is going to have an interesting decision to make: Accept the ridiculously lucrative offer that the Yankees are all but admitting will be forthcoming (rumor has it the pitch will include free nachos for life at the new stadium) or take a little (or perhaps a lot) less cash while going to a place where he believes his quality of life will be more to his liking. Sabathia loves hitting -- he batted .235 with a pair of homers in 51 at-bats this season -- and would prefer to return to his native California, so logic suggests he'll end up with Dodgers should they come up with a competitive offer. But the Yankees will not make it easy for him.

Manny Ramirez: While Scott Boras snickers in his lair at the Dodgers' apparently underwhelming offer, ask yourself this: Can you think of one team that will even consider making the commitment to Ramirez -- in terms of years, not annual salary -- that he's looking for? As long as Brian Cashman has clout, the closest Manny will get to being a Yankee is being on Hank Steinbrenner's fantasy team. The Dodgers seem to be setting themselves up to finish second in the bidding. I suppose the Angels might fit if Teixeira leaves, but do they really want two incurable goofballs in the same outfield? The Giants, who have lots of money to spend, no offense to speak of, and a history of putting up with mercurial sluggers, might be a sleeper. But ultimately, the only team that I can even see considering giving Manny what he and Boras believe he is worth is the Mets, based mostly on Omar Minaya's enduring MannyCrush.

Derek Lowe: Maybe it's wishful thinking on the part of someone who always got a kick out of Lowe -- and I will forever insist his performance on two days' rest in Game 7 of the 2004 ALCS is one of the most underrated clutch efforts in sports history -- but honestly I do think he ends up back with the Red Sox. He never wanted to leave in the first place, and despite having Boras as an agent, I think he'll ultimately return for significantly less loot than he could get elsewhere.

A.J. Burnett: To paraphrase the old adage, if you can't beat him, sign him. Burnett, who went 3-1 with a 1.64 ERA in five starts versus the Yankees last season, will end up with a healthy chunk of the Steinbrenners' cash after Sabathia signs elsewhere.

Kerry Wood: Kinda sad that the Cubs had to let go of one of their more popular and identifiable players -- he should have been a lifer -- but GM Jim Hendry's thinking is probably prudent: Wood has been so riddled with injuries throughout his career that it would be foolhardy at this point to give him the three-year deal he covets. But after his successful transition to becoming a closer last season -- he whiffed 84 in 66 1/3 innings, with a 1.08 WHIP -- he'll get that deal somewhere, possibly from the Tigers, though the Rangers also make sense.

The temperature is rising on the baseball hot stove, but the Red Sox aren't the only Boston sports team that could -- or should -- be making a significant addition or two soon. Here's a quick look at various players whose names we might be seeing in the transactions in the coming weeks:

Antonio McDyess: The likable veteran forward, who played extremely well at times against the Celtics in the Eastern Conference finals last spring -- he scored 21 points in Game 4 -- is apparently in the process of negotiating a buyout with the Nuggets after he was included in the Iverson/Billups swap for salary reasons. The 34-year-old would be a perfect fit off the bench for these Celtics, a more athletic and versatile version of P.J. Brown, and he does have a history with Celtics boss Danny Ainge, who was his coach with the Suns in 1997-98 and is still an unabashed admirer. That said, McDyess in green is probably wishful thinking. There's quite a bit of informed speculation coming from the Detroit papers that he'll end up back with the Pistons 30 days from now after the Gary Payton Rule is no longer in effect. Here's hoping Ainge is looking at that as his window to make a relentless sales pitch.

Javier Vazquez: It would be cool to have him here, if only as a living monument to Game 7 of the 2004 ALCS, but even with his obvious ability, he's probably not an ideal match for the Red Sox seeing how he basically got called gutless by his manager, then went out and proved him right. I suppose there are worse booby prizes the Red Sox could get in return for Julio Lugo, though. (See: Willis, Dontrelle.)

Mark Teixeira: Yeah, I know, you haven't heard his name enough lately. But here's the thing: My biggest worry at the moment regarding the 2009 Red Sox -- wait, make that my second biggest worry, after the nightmare scenario of Scott Boras brainwashing Theo Epstein into giving the ghost of Jason Varitek a multi-year contract -- is that Big Papi struggles again with injuries and ineffectiveness, and Mike Lowell can't return to form after hip surgery, thus leaving the Red Sox with a very suspect middle of the order. I think the Red Sox have to fill some suitcases full of cash and make a serious and sincere run at Teixeira, and I think they will. The problem, as Tony Mazz wrote today, is that the 28-year-old switch-hitter is so coveted and has timed his free agency so fortuitously that it's almost the perfect storm to make him the next $200 million player. And I don't see the Red Sox paying him anything approaching that figure (heretofore known as Steinbrenner Money), no matter how much they covet him.

Nick Swisher: I wouldn't be surprised if he's one of the Red Sox' fallback plans if they lose the Teixeira sweepstakes. He's in his prime (28), he fits the organizational philosophy of driving up pitch counts (he's averaged 93 walks over the past three seasons), and it's a decent buy-low opportunity. Of course, there's a reason he's available -- he batted just .219 last season, a point lower than the Varitek, and he's just a .244 hitter in his four-year career. Ultimately, it's a matter of Chicago's asking price and whether Theo Epstein believes his potential is greater than the risk. I do think the Sox would take him for Lugo and some minor-league spare parts in a heartbeat, though.

Not too long ago, my boss stopped by my desk and plunked down a book. "I hear you're into this sort of thing," he said.

The 2009 Bill James Handbook! Yes! (Jeterian fist-pump!) It's Christmas for baseball nerds!

Okay, maybe not Christmas -- that's reserved for the day the crisp new "Baseball Prospectus" annual arrives. But it's definitely another very cool holiday. Arbor Day, maybe.

Anyway, I've killed the last hour (or two . . . or three . . . did I mention I actually get paid for this?) perusing through the Handbook, and as always the gang at Baseball Info Solutions has dug up enough fascinating material to . . . well, fill a book. Which you should buy, of course, right after you finish devouring these appetizers . . .

* * *

The first thing I always check out in the Handbook is the hitting and pitching projections for individual Red Sox players in the upcoming season. They're not always accurate, but they are enjoyable. Here are a few Sox of note, and a couple other relevant names as well:

BATTERS
David Ortiz: .288 average, 37 homers, 119 RBIs, .966 OPS
Dustin Pedroia: .315, 15, 78, .848
Kevin Youkilis: .289, 23, 101, .879
Jason Bay: .280, 30, 102, .881
The Mummy: .238, 13, 52, .726
Jacoby Ellsbury: .302, 9, 53, .783
Mike Lowell: .277, 16, 75, .791
Manny Ramirez: .301, 34, 113, .955
Evan Longoria: .280, 37, 113, .892
Taylor Teagarden: .239, 25, 61, .772
Jarrod Saltalamacchia: .262, 11, 46, .773
Mark Teixeira: .299, 36, 121, .956.

PITCHERS
Josh Beckett: 13 wins, 8 losses, 3.57 ERA, 189 innings
Jon Lester: 12-11, 4.02, 212 innings
Daisuke Matsuzaka: 12-8, 3.58, 184 innings
Pedro Martinez: 9-5, 3.36 ERA, 120 innings
Jake Peavy: 14-8, 3.26, 202 innings
A.J. Burnett: 14-11, 3.62, 224 innings
Derek Lowe: 14-9, 3.60, 206 innings
Jonathan Papelbon: 41 saves, 2.01 ERA, 71 innings.

Comments: You have to like the projected big comeback season for Papi as well as significant progress as a sophomore for Ellsbury . . . Slight regression for Youk and Pedroia, but nothing to be concerned about. . . Lowell is penciled in for 128 games. The decline is underway . . . Odd numbers for Teagarden, the young, defensively excellent Texas catcher whom I'd prefer the Sox pursue rather than Saltalamacchia. Teagarden had six homers in 47 at-bats for the Rangers down the stretch . . . I suppose .238/.726 would qualify as a return to form for Varitek. Now, if only Scott Boras would whack $40 million off his salary demands, there might be a chance of him returning to Boston . . . Honestly, I don't put much stock in these pitching projections; they always strike me as too conservative. Sometimes it seems like every decent starter is down for 12-14 wins. . . I'll go on record: Lester's ERA will be at least a run lower than projected, even though his big jump in innings this season is a concern going forward . . . Burnett, who opted out of his contract with the Blue Jays, is expected to be a workhorse next season. Not buying it here. He's brittle when it's not a contract year . . . No starter is projected to have more than 18 wins (Johan Santana).

While Rays phenom David Price so memorably put the 2008 Red Sox in the past tense Sunday night, the franchise officially closed the book on the season only after manager Terry Francona conducted exit interviews with his players the past several days.

And believe it or not, TATB was right there in the manager's office as it all went down.

(C'mon, just play along.)

(Playing along? Sweet. As always, we appreciate your tolerance.)

You see, we just happened to have a world-class secret agent in the room -- he ducked behind the 47 cases of Dubble-Bubble in Tito's quarters and went undetected -- and our guy dutifully jotted down every word.

And so we gladly give you the one-sided transcripts from Tito's conversations with . . .

David Ortiz: "David -- have you noticed I'm the only one in America who calls you David? -- I know this season was a real grind for you. First the slow start, then the knee, then the wrist -- you just were never quite right, and when the old magic wasn't there in the playoffs, you seemed . . . well, kinda sad. And we all hated seeing you like that, David -- it affected everyone, because everyone looks to you to set the tone. So here's my advice. Get whatever you need repaired -- your wrist, your knee, your pride -- and spend the rest of the winter clearing your head. Also -- and I mean no offense by this -- maybe add a little cardio to the menu, if you know what I'm getting at. I know you will be a 40-130 guy again, David. I've never believed in a player more."

Josh Beckett: "Becks, your performance in Game 6 -- beating the Rays despite your screwed-up oblique and a repertoire John Burkett would be ashamed of -- should only enhance your reputation as a postseason legend. It was downright gutty. But, you know, that last word there, it kinda brings me to my point here today. You never really hit your stride this season -- first it was your back, then your elbow, then the oblique -- and I think deep down, we both know the reason for that. You didn't exactly come to camp in tip-top shape. Remember when you told me about your great hunting trip with Timlin? Well, it just looked to me like you were back at the lodge devouring all the deer jerky and pounding all the Bud while Timmer was out assassinating the elk and mooses and whatnot. I know you like people to be blunt, so I'll put it this way: I don't want you coming into camp looking like this [holds up a picture] again. "

Mike Timlin: "Timmer, if there were a wing in the Hall of Fame for middle relievers and set-up men, you'd be a first-ballot lock. It's been one heckuva ride. But you made your big league debut in '91, the year after my run in The Show ended, and you know what that means? You're old, Timmer. In fact, I'm pretty sure I could take you deep right now, and I can't even feel my %*$** arms. It's time. Now if you don't mind, please put down the crossbow. You're frightening Millsy."

Here's the lesson we're left with today as the incredible Tampa Bay Rays prepare for the World Series while the Red Sox scatter to various golf courses, hunting blinds and gentlemen's clubs around the country.

It's not an end. It's a beginning.

In other words: This is officially a rivalry, folks, one between two franchises of vastly different histories but similarly hopeful futures, one that is only going to add more memorable and compelling chapters in the seasons ahead. And after this grind of series, well, let's just say Sox fans have a head start on building up a healthy loathing for this fierce and stacked Tampa team.

Evan Longoria? A wonderful young ballplayer who carries himself like superstardom is his birthright. B.J. Upton? He picked a fine time to stop loafing and live up to his world-class ability. Andy Sonnanstine? Maddeningly baffling to the Sox with his freakishly long arms and mediocre repertoire. Matt Garza? The Human Snot Rocket.

All right, so now I'm just trying to be petty -- funny how the Rays were much more likable when they were lousy. But to be completely honest, my feelings on the Day After are probably more mixed than they should be. Of course it's a bummer -- I think my first thought of the day was, "Damn, the Sox lost," and that old familiar knot returned to my stomach. The end of the Red Sox season always brings a form of seasonal depression in these parts, no matter what the circumstances. Didn't it just feel a little chillier this morning?

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

"Everybody talks about the pressure on me for that at-bat [the legendary ninth-inning home run in Game 5 of the 1986 ALCS], but there was no pressure. Defensive replacements aren't supposed to hit closers. Gene Mauch caught a lot of flak for changing pitchers, but any manager would take that matchup one-hundred percent of the time. Donnie Moore against a defensive replacement who had five at-bats in two weeks? You gotta go with those odds. They're in the Angels' favor. Basically I was looking for a way to get back to our dugout after striking out." - Dave Henderson, postgame interview, Oct. 12, 1986.

As for Today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

You know the drill.

"A very important lesson I learned as a kid is to never give up." -- David Ortiz, in a commercial for the Boys and Girls Club that aired several times during last night's game.

I know, we're supposed to move on, and a few paragraphs from now we promise to do our best. But excuse me while I cling to last night's I-can't-believe-what-I-just-saw epic just a little bit longer.

There's no ballgame today, and for once we consider that a good thing: the last one is meant to linger, to be rehashed, replayed, and reconsidered, and most of all, savored. It's the players' duty to let it go and look ahead. We're allowed to cherish their remarkable feat for another day.

So let's start with the obvious question: Did you stick with them? Did you make it through nine innings? When the Rays built their lead to 7-0 in the seventh, when Manny Delcarmen was doing his insanely aggravating Schiraldi routine on the mound, when the rest of the club was "comatose" (Tito's word choice), and when that last shred of optimism was slipping from your grasp, did you call it a season and change the channel . . . or worse, stumble off angrily to bed?

Full disclosure: We flipped to "The Office" during the middle innings, then came back for the seventh. Pam, you know. But we checked back in for the seventh, vaguely hoping to see the Sox put up a fight, but mostly just resigned to seeing the final innings of a season, to watch a few more futile swings before they headed off to a winter at the country club.

Then all the improbable things you wanted to happen -- needed to happen -- well, damned if they didn't just all take place, and right there, as if scripted by someone with clout who decided he didn't want this wildly interesting series to end just yet.

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free throwaway lines for you . . .

1. I'm pretty sure the visual of Tim Wakefield plopped face down on the Fenway grass after failing to field Carl Crawford's third-inning swinging bunt is not only the perfect metaphor for this entire series, but I also suspect it will also be the lingering mental image I'll have of him long after his Sox career is done. Which, to be coldly blunt, should be immediately after this postseason is complete. As CNNSI's Tom Verducci pointed out in his column this morning, since allowing the Aaron Boone homer, Wakefield is 1-4 with a 10.27 ERA in eight postseason games. He simply hasn't been a trustworthy pitcher for some time now, he's getting injury-prone as he gets older, and against a speedy team like the Rays, he can be made to look like an antique. It's time to move on.

2. Though all logic suggests the cause is lost, I'm holding out a shred of hope that the Red Sox can come back in this thing. (If Dice-K can win tomorrow, and Beckett guts it out in Game 6, and the Rays are collectively swarmed by bees, and B.J. Upton gets polio, then . . . ) But from all the evidence collected so far, the truth is that the Rays deserve this. They've been superior in every single way. In retrospect, our best chance against this healthier and richly talented team was that the experienced Red Sox would prove more poised. So far, the Rays look like they're the ones who know their way around October.

3. One of these Sundays, I'm going to focus on Richard Seymour on every single defensive snap, and once and for all I'm going to get the answer to the mystery: Is he invisible on the stat sheet because he's being double- and triple-teamed, as his apologists claim, or is it because he's just not all that interested or effective anymore? A few years ago, it seems like he'd make a force-of-nature play once or twice a game, say, blowing through two blockers to crush a tailback just as he's getting the handoff, or running down a scrambling, terrified quarterback from behind. Now, those plays never happen, unless you happen to be watching one of your old Super Bowl DVDs. I want to know why.

Leftovers from a long, lost weekend of baseball . . .

Right now, the nagging feeling I get watching the Red Sox is the same one I had during the 2005 ALDS against their eventual successors as World Champions, the Chicago White Sox:

They're losing to a healthier, sharper, and apparently superior team, and while that's both frustrating and disappointing, in a way it's also justice.

Now, that's not to suggest I think the Sox are a sure bet to be on the golf course a week from now; I always manage to convince myself Tim Wakefield will pitch well in these situations (though there isn't a lot of evidence in the last few seasons to support such faith), and while we're all worried about Josh Beckett's sudden and puzzling transformation into Frank Castillo, the Rays must have similar concerns about Scott Kazmir.

At this writing, a few hours before the pivotal Game 4, there are justifiable reasons to believe in the traditionally resilient Sox despite yesterday's stunning rout -- hey, a 2-1 hole is no big deal to these guys. And should Wakefield come through with victory tonight, the momentum will swing right back in the defending champs' favor. So it goes in a seven-game series.

It's just that, right now, we're hoping that will happen more than we actually believe it will. The Rays, already brimming with primo talent (did you know B.J. Upton was this good?), now own the confidence to match after two consecutive victories, while the Sox, with more easy outs in their lineup than a middling National League team, look lethargic and weary . . . old, actually.

Like the White Sox in '05, the Rays look like the better -- and thus, more deserving -- team in every way. Here's hoping we have a different opinion come tomorrow.

* * *

Man, how we've dreaded this day, when David Ortiz would look lost and frustrated and decrepit in the postseason, and we'd be forced to speak of his mojo in the past tense. Worse, we never thought it would come so soon.

You might know our mantra around here regarding Papi -- he's the greatest thing to ever happen to the Red Sox™ -- and I keep trying to talk myself into believing the one mighty blast he needs to snap out of this thing is just a pitch or two away.

But my eyes tell me the wait might last until next April. For whatever reason, the big man just can't put a charge into a decent fastball right now -- as SI's Tom Verducci pointed out this morning, Rays starter Matt Garza threw Ortiz fastballs on 13 of 16 pitches yesterday, striking him out once and coaxing a pair of weak popups.

He simply overmatched him, and remember, this is the same Garza who gave up a pair of mammoth homers to Ortiz the last time he faced him, Sept. 17. Much of the credit should go to the pitcher, of course, but there's no denying that this just isn't the same ol' Papi right now.

* * *

In a semi-related note, here are the statistics for two players, beginning with Opening Day, 2007:

Player A: .264 average, 77 homers, 223 RBIs, 259 hits in 980 at-bats

Player B: .303 average, 58 homers, 206 RBIs, 292 hits in 965 at-bats

Player A is Carlos Pena. Player B? Papi.

Now, I wouldn't dare to suggest that the Red Sox should have kept Pena over Ortiz after the '06 season -- that would be the ultimate in revisionist history, and had Theo Epstein ever considered such a thing, he would have needed to don his gorilla suit to dodge the bloodthirsty mob on Yawkey Way. At that point, Papi was at the peak of his powers, while Pena was at a career crossroads.

But considering how much heat the Twins took for dumping Ortiz, shouldn't the Sox (and Yankees . . . and Tigers) catch some flak for letting Pena get to the Rays for nothing?

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free throwaway lines for you . . .

1. Recognize this guy? Nope, that's not Richie Sambora before he discovered booze. Look again, and picture this dude 30 years later, with a white buzz cut. Still nothing? Okay, try putting a pair of pretentious Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn classes on him. Got it now? I think you do. Yup, believe it or not, that's (here for the answer) . . .

2. I wish the Sox had slotted Jon Lester in the No. 2 spot, with Josh Beckett pitching Game 3, if only because, should the Rays win in 6, the Sox' ace lefty will have pitched just once in the series, which would pretty much be inexcusable. But the way the rotation is set up makes for a very compelling matchup in Game 2: Josh Beckett versus Scott Kazmir. We know about Beckett's situation -- the most dominating postseason pitcher of his time struggled in the ALDS, and there's still some debate as to whether that was because of injury or rust. But Kazmir . .. well, he's the real mystery here. While he pitched decently in the ALDS, allowing two runs and eight hits in 5 1/3 innings in the Rays' Game 2 win, I can't forget Jerry Remy's words after the Rays' lefty melted down against the Red Sox Sept. 15: "He looked scared out there." Kazmir has as much raw stuff as any pitcher remaining in these playoffs, but sometimes I wonder if he's the second coming of Mark Langston. No, that's not a compliment.

3. Huge test for the Pats this week, no doubt, but I don't fear the Chargers quite the way I did, oh, entering last year's AFC title game. Injuries have taken a toll on Antonio Gates and, to a lesser extent, LaDainian Tomlinson, and perennial pest Chris Chambers is also hurt. I think the Pats win with relative ease if three things happen: 1) Matt Cassel is as steady as he was against the Niners last week. 2) Darren Sproles is contained on the return game. 3) Norv Turner shows up.

(From the perspective of a concerned and slightly deranged Red Sox fan. As usual.)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, we've heard . . . the Tampa Bay Rays are a wonderful story. Worst-to-first and all that. Bah.

Hey, after seeing them 18 times in the regular season -- and losing 10 -- no one needs to convince us that Longoria, Pena, Shields and the rest of this deep if hardly star-studded cast will be a formidable and legitimate opponent in the ALCS. Brace yourself for an epic, folks.

But if you're a Sox fan, you're starting miss the not-so-long-ago old days, when Tampa Bay had little talent and even less hope, and they were more likely to attempt to beat the stuffing out of Brian Daubach than put up a crooked number on the scoreboard.

So with those good times in mind, let's take a look back at some real Rays, and not these talented imposters who actually have the nerve to beat the Sox once in a while . . .

Catcher
John Flaherty: Pedro's unlikely nemesis put up a .207/.261/.273 line in '98, with three homers in 307 at-bats and a truly brutal OPS+ of 39. You have no idea how difficult it is for me to resist making a Jason Varitek joke right now.

First base
Steve Cox: He was the Rays' primary first baseman from 2000-02. I'm not saying he was non-descript, but I'm pretty sure not even his former teammates could pick him out of the team photo.

Second base
Brent Abernathy: In 463 at-bats in '02, he put up an OPS of .599 (so close to the elusive .600 mark!) and an OPS+ of 62. Conclusion: The Rays would have gotten more production had they played Dick Vitale at second base.

Shortstop
Julio Lugo: Oh, how we wish he'd remained a Ray for life.

Third base
Vinny Castilla: As if you needed more proof that the life of a ballplayer is a ridiculously blessed one: Castilla -- the epitome of a Coors Field fraud who hit .221 with an OPS+ of 43 for the '00 Rays -- made $44,936,500.00 in his major league career. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go hit my 2-year-old some fungoes.

One last quickie look at the Angels-Sox ALDS, with due apologies to Three Up, Three Down innovator Gennaro Filice . . .

RED SOX
Three up . . .
1. Jon Lester: It's official. He's the ace. No, not just of the Red Sox -- of everyone, at least in October.

2. Jed Lowrie: He whiffs like a Bellhorn and delivers in October like a Bellhorn. Sadly, he also looks like the kind of blue-blooded kid The 'Horn and his goons used to beat up at bars for the sport of it.*

3. The Jasons: Okay, a tie is a cop-out. But Bay lived up to the immense offensive standards of the former left fielder, batting .412 with a pair of homers in the series and chugging home like a turbo-charged Sid Bream for the winning run in the clincher. As for Varitek, he had a crucial and overlooked single in the fifth inning to set up the game's first run, and also made a terrific play on the botched squeeze. You know we often think Varitek gets too much credit. Last night, he didn't get enough.

. . . and three down

1. Francona: I've heard his explanation, but I still don't understand why he pulled Lester after seven. Fortunately, Scioscia and his Headless Chicken Angels took him off the hook. Forgiven and forgotten, Tito.

2. Justin Masterson: We believe in this kid as much as Tito does -- did you notice he was touching 97 last night? -- but at least for a moment, the magnitude of the situation seemed to get to him. When have you ever seen a catcher get crossed up like that? Varitek's lucky he doesn't have a dent in his famous, intangibly-crinkled forehead.

3. Sean Casey: So that's why he's persona non grata. Who knew Mark Kotsay would bring his center fielder's range to first base? Well, besides Tito.

ANGELS
Three up . . .
1. Torii Hunter: The one Angel who consistently delivered with runners in scoring position in the series, it appeared he had turned the momentum LA's way with his game-tying two-run single in the eighth. He's not the center fielder he once was, however, though he'll probably win three more Gold Gloves on reputation alone.

2. Mark Teixeira: He didn't hit for power in the series (though it felt like just a matter of time) and drove in just one run, but he did bat .467, and his all-around performance -- working the count, and playing Mattingly-like defense at first -- was extremely impressive. The price, as Mo Vaughn used to say, just went up.

3. Chone Figgins: He hit .333 and, as Dustin Pedroia could attest, played surprisingly well at third base.

. . . and three down
1. Mike Scioscia: His team is not aggressive, it's reckless, and he's now 1-9 against Terry Francona in the postseason. Tell me again who's the best manager in baseball?

2. John Lackey: He pitched well in both of his starts -- but not well enough to win either of them. Plus, he's a boor, refusing to give the Red Sox credit and embarrassing his infielders whenever they failed to make a play; Kevin Brown had more grace in defeat. He can't be a popular guy in the clubhouse.

3. Erick Aybar: Ya gotta get the bunt down, son.

* Okay, we made that up.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

TBS didn't show the ceremonial first pitch, and there are no photos as far as I know. Poor Yummy's still getting no respect at Fenway.

Playing nine innings while wondering when Josh Beckett turned into Steve Trachsel . . .

1. I never thought the day would come when I'd think the Sox would be better off with Mark Kotsay in the lineup over Mike Lowell, but, well, here we are. I haven't seen a Sox third baseman so obviously impaired by an injury since Butch Hobson was juggling bone chips in his elbow and endangering the patrons in the first-base side box seats with his scattershot throws during the summah of 1978. Hobson, whom we later learned was also impaired by other things in his career, eventually went to titanium-skulled manager Don Zimmer and asked out of the lineup for the betterment of the team. Terry Francona, who, thank goodness, has nothing common with Zimmer but a hairline, won't allow the situation with Lowell come to that -- I can't imagine he'll be in the lineup tonight after his tough but helpless performance in Game 3. He looked like he was playing his last innings of the season.

2. Anyone who doubts Jon Lester tonight simply hasn't been paying attention since last October. I have no doubts he'll deliver another outstanding performance tonight. What worries me is the Red Sox lineup versus Angels starter John Lackey, who seems to have finally solved his longtime nemesis, save for one ill-advised fastball to Jason Bay. Dustin Pedroia and David Ortiz went a combined 0 for 8 last night, and are 3 for 26 in the series overall. At least one of them needs to snap out of it tonight against the Angels' alleged ace, and right now it looks like Pedroia is closer to coming through than the sadly lethargic Papi, though all it takes is one mighty swing to make things right.

3. For the record, Mike Scioscia, who had the speed of a three-legged end table, swiped 29 bases in 53 attempts in his big league career. So if you were wondering why he doesn't seem to be particularly concerned with playing the percentages on the basepaths, that might be a small clue. He was both slow and somewhat reckless, and at least the latter also describes him as a manager.

4. Welcome to the enemies list , Mike Napoli. As far as we're concerned, you're Jonny Gomes with a catcher's mitt.

5. I don't care if Jonathan Papelbon threw 31 or 131 pitches last night. He must be available tonight if the Sox are holding a slim lead in the late innings. To put it another way: The Sox have to do everything they can to avoid a return trip to Anaheim, and that includes deploying their weary closer if the moment calls for it. This isn't a must-win, but it's pretty damn close, unless you feel confident in Dice-K on the road in Game 5. (Yeah, didn't think so.)

Playing nine innings while wondering if the Angels are capable of being patient against Dice-K . . .

1. I've probably written this a half-dozen other times this season, but I have to say it again: I couldn't have more respect for Jon Lester. At age 24, he's become everything you'd want in a starting pitcher: durable, clutch, smart, efficient, overpowering, and as a bonus, lefthanded. I used to think his ceiling was as a Bruce Hurst clone. Then, after his final flourish last season, I raised the bar to Andy Pettitte. Now I see him as a harder-throwing version of Pettitte, a true ace whereas Roger Clemens's former BFF was more of a very good No. 2. Lester is 27-8 with a 3.81 ERA in the regular season through his first 59 career starts. Through his first 60 starts, Pettitte was 33-17 with a 4.00 ERA. Looks like the ideal comp to me.

2. I'm not saying TBS analyst Buck Martinez talks too much, but I think he said more words in the third inning Wednesday night than Vin Scully has in his entire career. And there's not exactly a whole lot of insight amid the nasally jabber, either: His favorite topic was the intangible value and game-calling skills of Jason Varitek, which made sense once I realized Buck (real name: John Albert Martinez) spent parts of 17 seasons in the big leagues and had an OPS+ over 95 exactly once. He spent his entire career as the player Varitek is now. (But for the sake of saying something nice about the guy, he does have really great hair for a guy about to turn 60 in a month. I bet even the Eck is envious.)

3. While I believe Tito Francona stands alone at the peak of his profession, I imagine the Angels' Mike Scioscia would be voted the consensus "Top Manager In Baseball" by those who decide such things. There's no doubt he's very good at his job, but I also think a lot of the praise he gets is because his team typically plays a brand of baseball that appeals to the old-school stat-phobes in the media, bunting and stealing bases and playing the game the "way it should be played" . . . right up to the point where their aggressiveness turns on them with an inexcusable gaffe like Vladi Guerrero's in the eighth inning Wednesday night. The Angels give away way too many outs -- and we won't even get started on their see-it, hack-at-it approach at the plate -- and that sort of recklessness has come back to haunt them more than once in recent postseasons. In the end, doesn't that have to reflect on the man in charge?

4. You probably suspect it anyway, so I might as well admit it: I'm enjoying the Manny Ramirez Show in the postseason. Loving it, actually, though I do want the Cubs to win the series (and believe they still can). I guess I look at it like this: I've never enjoyed watching someone hit like I do Manny, I'm a complete sucker for his goofball charisma, and I reconciled myself a long time ago to the fact that he would be maddeningly irresponsible, usually without any logic or explanation. I'll never be glad he's gone, but I completely understand why he is. He's a 36-year-old man who acted like a toddler, he faked an injury -- again, he faked an injury -- and near the end he made the clubhouse such a miserable place that his teammates cited the execrable Carl Everett in describing Manny's divisive behavior. I like Manny, and I always will. Can't help myself. But even I know there's no point in trying to defend the indefensible.

Let's hold off on our look back at the Bill James Handbook projections for another day (or month). After all, it's now October (and you know what that half-wit Dane Cook says about that), our minds are focused on the Angels and tonight's opener, and so it just seems right to spin through a special pregame edition of Nine Innings instead . . .

1. You tell me who wins tonight's game, and I'll tell you who's going to win this series. (How's that for getting to the point? So unlike me.) But I mean it. If Jon Lester comes out and pitches the way he did in September -- actually, the way he did during practically his entire breakthrough 16-6, 3.21 season -- and the rested, favored, and supposedly ready Angels struggle to generate offense, you have to figure thoughts of "Here we go again" will creep into their heads, and the banged up Sox will no longer be underdogs against a franchise they've defeated in their last nine postseason games. But if Lester struggles, the Angels ' jackrabbits generate a few runs, and the Teixeira/Guerrero/Hunter thumpers do their thing against the pitcher who has been the Sox' de facto ace virtually all season, I fear that all of those prognosticators who are picking the Angels to gain redemption in this series with relative ease will be proven right. I think you know where I stand on this -- I could not have more faith in Lester. Sox win tonight. Sox take the series in four.

2. I was almost as encouraged by the inclusion of third-string catcher David Ross on the final roster as I was by the news that Mike Lowell and J.D. Drew were among the final 25, for this reason: It's a clear sign that Tito Francona intends to pinch hit for the mummified remains of Jason Varitek when the situation calls for it. One of the countless things I admire about Francona as a manager is that he consciously changes his approach in the postseason. He manages with more inning-to-inning urgency, whereas from April to September he always has the big picture and the long season in focus. There were a handful of times during the regular season when I'd catch myself screaming at the Samsung after Francona refused to hit for Varitek in a key situation. (Varitek, of course, either whiffed or grounded into a routine double play, depending if there was a runner on first). Ross's presence on the roster is all the proof I need that Tito is about to change his ways again.

3. I admire Lowell for trying to gut it out in this series, but unless he's secretly been fitted with a bionic hip in the last week, I can't imagine he's going to survive for long against the hyper-aggressive Angels. I hate saying it, because the 2007 World Series MVP is obviously an integral part of the Sox' championship hopes, but he's hobbling and wincing like a guy who needs the offseason to hurry up and get here.

4. If any other significant Sox pitcher besides Josh Beckett suffered an oblique injury so close to the postseason, I'd be worried-bordering-on-panic-bordering-on-a-tantrum. But I honestly believe Beckett is one of those true aces of October, like Curt Schilling before him, who can almost will himself to be successful in big moments, even if he doesn't have his best stuff and is not at peak health. To put it another way: If Beckett takes the mound for Game 3, he will deliver.

5. Can someone please explain the following stat to me, courtesy of longtime Friend of TATB Chuck Waseleski (who, from what I hear, is quite maniacal):

The Red Sox were 63-35 (.643) in games Coco Crisp started, 32-32 (.500) in games that he did not start.

I always find myself rooting for Coco for some reason, so I'm glad to see this, but by most measures he had an adequate season at best (94 OPS+). So what am I missing here? Is this just a fluke? Help me, Stat Gurus! (Sending out bat signal to Keith Law . . .)

The first thing we here at TATB do when when the Bill James Handbook arrives in the mail each spring is thumb straight to the section featuring the statistical predictions for each major league player in that particular section.

(What, you thought my first act was to lovingly rub the pristine new Stat Geek Bible all over my semi-nude torso? Oh, no, no - I think you're confusing me with Rob Neyer there.)

It's always fun to see what James - the father of sabermetrics, one of the most entertaining baseball writers of any era, and of course, a special adviser to the Red Sox - and the numbers wizards at Baseball Info Solutions project for Boston players in the new season.

And it's even more fun to look back at the end of the season and see just how accurate -- or inaccurate -- they were.

How did they do this season? Well, it turns out they had a few big hits . . . and also some significant whiffs.

The James Gang expected great things out of Jacoby Ellsbury, didn't see Kevin Youkilis emerging as a heart-of-the-order beast, and sold Dustin Pedroia, um, short. (Sorry.)

They did, however, almost precisely forecast Mike Lowell's dropoff from his career year in '07, and were pretty close on J.D. Drew's final stats as well, though there was no suggestion that he'd have a career-high two epidurals.

I realize that today, we're supposed to be looking ahead to the imminent postseason. But before we do, here's a quickie look back at the final numbers of the regular season, and James's projections for the members of the current starting lineup:

JACOBY ELLSBURY
Bill James Projection: .320, 5 HRs, 46 RBIs, .810 OPS, 42 steals in 52 attempts
Reality: .280, 9 HRs, 47 RBIs, .730 OPS, 50 steals in 61 attempts
TATB's take: So he's not yet the second coming over Johnny Damon, and expectations were oversized after his dazzling postseason performance last October. But it wasn't a bad rookie season, especially defensively, and once he fixes the obvious but reparable holes in his swing, he'll be a mainstay for a decade or more.

DUSTIN "LASER SHOW" PEDROIA
Projection: .300, 9 HRs, 57 RBIs, 77 runs, .805 OPS, 40 doubles, 6 steals in 9 attempts
Reality: .326, 17 homers, 83 RBIs, 118 runs, .869 OPS, 54 doubles, 20 steals in 21 attempts
TATB's take: A legitimate MVP frontrunner, the only person who thought he'd be this good was Pedroia himself. Two seasons into his career, and he has a chance to be one of the most universally beloved Red Sox of all time. C'mon, I couldn't have been the only one who was this wrong about him. Was I?

In the wake of Wake's clinching victory -- and really, how sweet was it that the senior member of the Sox (in service time, if not quite age) outdueled that whippersnapper Cliff Lee? -- it seems like an appropriate moment to tip our ballcap to a handful of pitchers we've been watching since they were young and we were young-er . . .

* * *

Four semi-fun facts about the Phillies' 45-year-old Jamie Moyer, a 15-game-winner this season:

1. He broke into the majors as a 23-year-old with the 1986 Cubs. His teammates included 31-year-old Dennis Eckersley, 20-year-old Greg Maddux, and 27-year-old Terry Francona.

2. At age 33, he went 7-1 for the '96 Red Sox in 23 games (10 starts). On July 30, he was traded to the Mariners for outfielder Darren Bragg. Bragg is seven years younger than Moyer, and has been out of baseball for four years.

3. According to baseballreference.com's similarity scores, his best comp statistically is David Wells. It's a reasonable comparison on the mound, but he's Moyer's polar opposite in every other aspect of life. (By the way, did you see Boomer at the Yankee Stadium farewell? Shockingly, he looks like he's in better shape than he was during the prime of his career. I wouldn't be surprised if he got a start this weekend for the Yankees.)

4. Moyer has 245 victories, 177 of them coming after the Red Sox traded him. And somewhere, Bob Lobel just twitched.

* * *

On April 17, the Red Sox lit up Mike Mussina for the second consecutive start, tagging him with five runs and seven hits in three innings and raising his earned-run average four starts into this season to 5.75.

He looked cooked, like Catfish Hunter in '79, a once-great pitcher whose guile could no longer mask his fading ability.

At that point I would have guessed that he'd would announce his retirement sometime during the season. Not even Mussina himself could have suspected then that he'd end up being the closest thing the Yankees had to an ace.

Mussina is 19-9, with a 3.47 ERA and an 123 ERA+, and with one more start, he could secure the first 20-win season of his outstanding, if not particularly spectacular, 18-year career.

With 269 victories and a .637 career winning percentage, I'm officially convinced that Mussina deserves to be enshrined in Cooperstown someday. The way he's pitched this season, that day is probably a year or two further down the road than we'd ever have imagined five months ago.

* * *

When I was in college in the sparsely settled wilderness of Orono, Maine in the late '80s and early '90s , we got TBS but not NESN on cable, so I often found myself watching the Braves instead of the Sox when I was supposed to be doing my homework.

(Did I ever mention I pulled a 0.9375 GPA my first semester? It's true. I couldn't even spell GPA until I was a sophomore.)

Anyway, I grew attached to that collection of misfits, a fast-fading Dale Murphy and all the Oddibe McDowells, Gerald Perrys and Dion Jameses that Skip Caray and the crew so drolly told us about every night, loss after ugly loss.

So I had both feet on the bandwagon when the Braves, bolstered by the simultaneous rise to stardom of the likes of David Justice, Ron Gant, Tom Glavine, and John Smoltz, pulled off their worst-to-first routine in 1991. (They were the '08 Rays before their time.)

I stopped following them closely once they signed Maddux and turned into the Yankees South (and once I got a better cable provider), but I still admired those players from the early years.

Take this as my roundabout way of saying I hope Smoltz and Glavine can wring another decent year or two out of their scarred pitching arms, because as long as they're still throwing a baseball for a living, that wildly fun and improbable '91 season -- and for that matter, my college years -- won't seem so long ago.

A Steve Avery comeback would also be cool.

It's probably not often that an afterthought in a big trade ends up being the most useful player in the deal, but that's precisely the case with Indians catcher Kelly Shoppach.

You remember the saga and the swap: On Dec. 8, 2005, the Red Sox traded shortstop Edgar Renteria to the Atlanta Braves for highly regarded third base prospect Andy Marte. Roughly six weeks later, the Sox essentially turned it into a three-way deal, sending Marte, Shoppach, and reliever Guillermo Mota to the Indians for outfielder Coco Crisp, catcher Josh Bard, and reliever David Riske.

The names that grabbed the headlines at the time were Renteria, a respected all-around player who never fit during his one season in Boston; Marte, by all accounts one of the game's elite prospects; and Crisp, who was coming off a 117 OPS+ season at age 25. The Shoppach/Bard aspect of the deal was considered a wash, a younger backup catcher exchanged for an older one with more polish and less potential.

Entering this season, Shoppach had not yet reached his potential, failing to establish himself as anything more than a Mirabelli-in-training. After getting 110 at-bats in '06, he spent last season as Paul Byrd's personal catcher, with occasional cameos filling in for All-Star starter Victor Martinez. But when Martinez went down early in the season and missed three months with an elbow injury, Shoppach got his shot at playing every day. And he seized it.

Offensively, he's been nothing short of a revelation. Shoppach strikes out at a Bellhornian rate (125 whiffs in 342 at-bats), but the power numbers more than offset the holes in his swing: he had five extra-base hits in a game earlier this season, and has hit 21 homers (third among AL catchers) while owning a .529 slugging percentage and an adjusted OPS of 126. By comparison, Jason Varitek's highest single-season OPS+ is 123 in 2001. (That was in 51 games; in 2005, Varitek had a 122 adjusted OPS in 133 games.)

Shoppach's 2008 numbers would stand as a quality season even for a catcher who was in the lineup solely for his bat, but the Baylor product also has built a reputation as an outstanding defensive catcher with a knack for handling pitchers (though he has thrown out just 20 percent of base stealers). Hey, you don't get a cool nickname like "Shop-Vac" by being a Scott Hatteberg clone with the catcher's gear on.

Given Shoppach's breakthrough and the lack of quality catching around the major leagues, it is no exaggeration to say he is the most valuable player to come out of that deal. Just consider the fates of the so-called "name" players in the trade:

Psst . . . yo, spead the word: Party on the Fenway lawn tonight. Uh-huh, another one -- sort of a tradition this time of year. Beer will cost you a few bucks, but the champagne should be on the house. It's sure to be a blast. Oh, and remind Papelbon to remember his cardboard hat. Dude's crazy, always the life of these things. Just wait 'til you see him dance.

Oh, OK, maybe our party planning is just a wee bit premature here. If there's anything we should have learned from the Patriots' debacle versus the Dolphins yesterday, it's that we should never count any victory before it's hatched. In fact, I'm pretty sure Joey Porter is predicting an Indians win tonight.

But with Sox ace Josh Beckett, who has a 0.95 ERA in his last three starts, opposing Cleveland rookie Zach Jackson, he of the 0-3 record and 6.48 ERA this season . . . well, we just can't help ourselves. This one should be as big a mismatch on the field as it is on paper.

And once the final out in the top of the ninth is recorded and "Dirty Water" blares deep into the Boston night, what has lately felt like something between a formality and the inevitable will finally become official:

For the fifth time in six seasons, the Red Sox will be bound for the postseason.

The scenario tonight is a simple one: If the Sox beat the Indians, they're in. The only team capable of tying them for the American League wild card is the Yankees, who trail the Sox by a full seven games with seven to play. The Yankees are idle this evening, and as you may have noticed, Sunday night's elaborate farewell at The House That Mariano Rivera Closed had the underlying tone of a concession speech.

(For the record, I am sad to see Yankee Stadium go dark. It's always a bummer to see a historic ballpark demolished for the sake of corporate greed, and beyond that, it was the site of one of my greatest -- and certainly the most redemptive -- experiences as a sports fan. To put it another way: I imagine I'll miss it more than Javier Vazquez or Kevin Brown will.)

There is a chance that, if/when the Sox clinch tonight, the celebration could be more subdued than we've suggested, if only because all matters aren't settled and the division crown remains in play. The Sox trail the Rays by a game-and-a-half (two in the loss column) with seven to play, hardly an insurmountable deficit, but one that serves as a reminder of how much circumstances have changed in one year.

A few seasons ago, after a particularly aggravating loss to habitual Sox-killers Reed Johnson, Frank Catalanotto, and the Toronto Blue Jays, I pecked out my inaugural Enemies List, described then as "those subpar, non-descript and just plain lousy ballplayers who have tormented the Sox in recent years."

A season or two later, during Yankees slopballer Aaron Small's incomprehensibly successful stretch in which it was apparent he had sold his soul to the Steinbrenners, I updated the list.

Now, after a pair of frustrating losses to these apparently star-kissed Tampa Bay Rays, it seems the time has come again. Without further ado (or blabber), we'll start with a long overdue honoree . . .

Andy Sonnanstine: The definition of average in terms of stuff and statistics - his adjusted ERA is 100 - he somehow turns into the second coming of Mike Boddicker against the Sox. They haven't touched him for an earned run in 13 innings this season.

Dioner Navarro: They call Tuesday's hero "Little Pudge." I don't see it. Looks to me like the Rays' stumpy catcher is mostly made up of discarded parts from the Molina brothers.

Gabe Gross: Though he's had a couple of big hits and an occasional home run against the Sox this season, I've really got nothing against him. I just wanted to use the opportunity to point out that, since I've started working days and thus can listen to the early innings of the Sox game on the commute home, I've come to the realization that Joe Castiglione tells you the exact same facts about a player during every game of a series. I mean, not a word changes. For instance, after three days with the Rays, there is now a certain nasally voice in my head that tells me whenever I hear Gross's name that he was the starting quarterback at Auburn. I'm also all too aware that Sonnanstine pitched two summers for the Sanford Mainers of the NECBL, that Evan Longoria is from Long Beach State (where baseball is a priority), that Joe Maddon threw four touchdown passes in a game while a quarterback at Lafayette, and that Lafayette and Lehigh is the oldest continuous rivalry in college football. To borrow a line from Suzy Kolber: Thanks, Joe. Now please, put down the media guide.

Jonny Gomes: Prediction: The Rays' designated goon will be working the door at Thee Dollhouse within two years.

I don't think it's talking out of turn to suggest Josh Beckett hasn't been quite himself all season. His follow-up to his 20-victory season has been a strange sequence of fits and stops. There was the back injury in spring training, the elbow scare a few weeks back, and too many mystifying performances in between. Except for the occasional brilliant flash, he hasn't been Josh Beckett!, you know?

The numbers support the perception. He's allowed as many home runs this year (17) as he did in a season ago, but in 40.3 fewer innings. He's allowed 163 hits in 160.3 innings. His ERA, 4.10, would be fine for someone such as Tim Wakefield, but is on the high side for a pitcher of Beckett's ability and accomplishment.

There is even reasonable debate as to whether he's actually the Red Sox' No. 1 starter anymore. After Jon Lester traded bullets with Toronto's Roy Halladay Sunday and came away with his 15th victory, it was hard not to consider it his coronation as the new ace.

Tonight, Beckett is matched up against Tampa Bay's Andy Sonnanstine, a Paul Byrd-wannabe who has a fraction of Beckett's talent, yet has somehow earned one more victory (13) this season. While Sonnanstine has a mediocre ERA (4.47), suggesting he has benefited from both luck and run support, this is not the mismatch their reputations would suggest; he did limit the Sox to four hits in seven innings in a 4-2 Rays victory in 14 innings at Fenway five days ago.

Tonight, Sox have a golden opportunity within their grasp. With a win in the middle game of this three-game set at the abomination Tony Mazz called "the Juice Box," they have a chance to claim sole possession of first place in the American League East for the first time since July 13. As an added bonus, they could send the Rays, who after a remarkably poised summer finally seem to be showing their inexperience, into a death spiral as October approaches. This has a chance to be one of those games NESN plays on an endless loop all winter.

I don't know about you, but I'm taking in this Manny Ramirez renaissance with equal parts awe and annoyance. Probably a touch more of the former, which I suspect puts me in the distinct minority around here.

(AP Photo)

Overall this season, Manny's now hitting .325, with 34 homers and 108 RBIs in 134 games. His OPS+ is 161, a nice bit of symmetry considering that is his exact adjusted OPS from the '01 season, his first with the Sox.

So . . . can someone please tell me exactly what's happening here? Is it purely a salary drive? Is he feasting on the Quadruple A pitching of the National League? Is he trying to stick it to Theo Epstein and the front office that never really wanted him? Does he look at Nomar and D-Lowe and think this is 2003?

I thought Manny would hit in LA - we all figured he would to some degree - but I never saw this coming. He's 36 years old, and in his last season or so in Boston, he struggled to turn around good fastballs.

A year ago, he batted .296 with 20 homers and 88 RBIs, pedestrian numbers for a hitter of his accomplishments. The evidence suggested he was slipping into the winter of his Hall of Fame career.

1. Mike Timlin has had a heck of a career for himself. Eighteen major league seasons and 1,054 games pitched, the seventh-most all time. A career ERA of 3.64 and an adjusted ERA of 124. Four World Series championships - two with the Sox, and the first two with those great, overlooked Toronto teams of the early '90s. He was a poised, dependable setup man for the beloved Idiots of 2003-04, more than a decade after he closed out the Jays' first World Series clincher.

Of course, that was 17 years ago, which in our usual roundabout way brings us to the point: Timlin's old, at least in baseball years, and our praise should also be interpreted as the eulogy on his career. Last night's appearance, in which he gave up an utterly predictable three-run homer to Carlos Pena in the 14th inning, should be the last meaningful appearance of his big-league career.

His ERA is 6.09. His WHIP is 1.62. He's allowed a Wasdin-esque eight homers in 44.3 innings. His command, once his trademark (he walked nine in 83.2 innings in '03), is no longer a strength (he's walked 17 while whiffing just 27 this year). Even his well-placed pitches fall somewhere between hittable and fat right now, which is why it's laughable that both Timlin and Terry Francona claimed Pena's homer came on a great pitch.

Timlin can't get it done anymore. There's no shame in that; it happens to most athletes much sooner than it has to Timlin. I just wish his adoring manager would realize as much, because David Pauley, Devern Hansack, Chris Smith, Gar Finnvold, Eric Hetzel, and just about any other lukewarm arm in the Sox bullpen would have been a better option last night.

2. The main thing I take away from this series? I hope we just witnessed an ALCS preview. The Sox and Rays are two evenly matched yet dissimilar teams, the precocious upstart versus the confident establishment, and the result, in this series at least, was a couple of tense, well-played, thought-provoking games. This was not September baseball; it was October baseball, right down to the chill in the air. And it won't hurt that there's some bad blood between the two clubs, having traded punches during the memorable Crisp/Shields brawl earlier this season. A postseason showdown of the Sox and Rays could be as compelling as a Sox-Yanks matchup, but fresher, and without the made-for-TV angles and angst. Let's hope it happens.

3. I believe this qualifies as ex-Sox-on-ex-Sox crime. It comes from Barry Jackson's column in the Miami Herald:

All-Star Hanley Ramirez -- who leads NL shortstops with 20 errors and is hitting 36 points lower than last year's .332, and .216 with runners in scoring position -- insists his six-year, $70 million contract won't make him complacent. But one Marlins executive wants to see for himself.

Marlins special assistant Andre Dawson said ''work ethic and hunger are telltale signs'' if a good player wants to improve. Does Ramirez have that? "It remains to be seen, especially now that he's locked up,'' Dawson said. "I'd like to see a bit more hunger. That's what makes you a team leader. His intensity is yet to reach that peak. And I want to see him cut his swing down in RBI situations. He's over-swinging.''

The soft-spoken Dawson doesn't strike me as someone who'd call out a player without stacks of evidence. So you have to deduce that the supremely talented Ramirez is still having some of the maturity issues he had during his early days as a hotshot prospect in the Sox system, before he was sent to the Marlins in one of the great "win-win" trades of all-time. I hope he heeds Dawson's advice, because when he's on his game, there are few players who are more breathtaking to watch.

The Texas Rangers? Yawwwwn. They weren't even interesting when Chuck Norris had that show about them.

Sure, the Red Sox' opponent the next three days has had a few great players (Nolan Ryan, A-Rod, P-Rod, Oddibe McDowell) and some decent seasons (three AL West titles in four years in the late '90s) in their existence, but if you think there's a more irrelevant longstanding franchise in baseball, you must live in San Diego.

But if you look hard enough, there are at least a few interesting notables, anecdotes, and facts about the Rangers. Eight, to be precise:

1. The Rangers have a mostly well-deserved reputation as an organization that fails to develop pitching, but the reality is that they've had a number of outstanding arms the past few seasons and sent them all away. Consider the staff they could have:

LHP John Danks (traded to the White Sox for Brandon McCarthy)

RHP Armando Galarraga (traded to the Tigers for minor leaguer Michael Hernandez)

RHP Edinson Volquez (traded to the Reds for Roy Hobbs - can't really fault them there)

RHP Chris Young (see item No. 4)

RHP Justin Duchscherer (traded to the A's for Luis Vizcaino)

LHP Doug Davis (waived in April '03)

2. I always thought of Michael Young as a home-grown Ranger (until the arrival of Josh Hamilton, he was probably their signature player), but he was actually heisted from the Blue Jays in July 2000 for Esteban Loaiza.

3. Here in New England, we tend to think of goofy, Bill Lee-sucker-punching Mickey Rivers as a dastardly Yankee, but he also had some late-career moments as a Ranger, batting .333 with a 119 OPS+ in 1980. And if you think this is just my excuse to link to a page of Rivers's greatest quotes, you'd be correct. A sample:

"Out of what, a thousand?"

- Rivers, responding to teammate Reggie Jackson's claim he had an IQ of 160.

I doubt even that comeback shut Reggie up.

4. Through a series of savvy trades, the Rangers basically turned future home run king Alex Rodriguez into . . . well, nothing. In Feb. '04, the Rangers sent A-Rod to the Yankees for Alfonso Soriano and a prospect. In Dec. '05, Soriano was swapped to Washington for Brad Wilkerson, Terrmel Sledge, and Galarraga. Wilkerson left as a free agent after last season, Galarraga went to Detroit, and Sledge was dealt in another terrible Rangers trade, moving to San Diego along with Young and Adrian Gonzalez for Adam Eaton and Akinori Otsuka. How come no one told me Matt Millen used to run the Rangers too?

5. The Rangers are the subject of one of the most underrated and hilarious baseball books of the past 20 years, Mike Shropshire's "Seasons in Hell," a recollection of covering the franchise - and a cast of characters including Billy Martin, Whitey Herzog, and David Clyde - in the early- and mid-'70s. It gets the official TATB recommendation, which as you know is almost, but not quite, as powerful as a book plug on "Oprah."

Playing nine innings while wishing the sizzling Sox had a ballgame tonight . . .

1. Theo Epstein deserves endless credit for his shrewd maneuvering after the trading deadline. In both Paul Byrd and Mark Kotsay, he's acquired exactly what the Red Sox needed, a dependable old pro capable of steady if not spectacular contributions. It reminds of the way the Yankees always used to seem to get what they needed in late July and August; they'd add a David Justice, while the Sox would bring in some stiff like Ed Sprague. In a related note, on the days when Terry Francona pencils in an outfield of Kotsay, Jacoby Ellsbury, and Coco Crisp, is that the best defensive trio in Red Sox history? All three of those guys are above-average center fielders. And no, Jimy Williams, your Lewis-Buford-Bragg daydream does not qualify.

2. I've enjoyed watching A.J. Burnett pitch dating back to his days with the Sea Dogs a decade ago, and I realize the brash righty has long been a favorite of John Henry's. But I can't imagine that there's much legitimacy to this report (via SoSH) that the Sox will pursue him in the offseason should he opt out of his deal with the Jays as expected. For all of Burnett's ability - and he has a ton, perhaps the best arm in the AL - he's a 31-year-old injury-prone underachiever, a real-life Nuke LaLoosh whose similarity comp is career 74-game winner Chuck Dobson. I'd rather he gets his next ridiculous eight-figure contract elsewhere. Preferably the Bronx.

3. Until the Yankees are officially, mathematically, stake-through-their-cold-hearts dead when it comes to their playoff hopes, I just can't bring myself to root for them, even when they're playing the team the Sox are chasing in the standings. Wanting the Yankees to lose - and lose painfully - is an instinct that you can't turn off just because they're suddenly irrelevant . . . though with a few more seasons of practice I suppose I could learn.

4. Looks like the player we pegged in yesterday's post as Dustin Pedroia's main competition for the AL Most Valuable Player award may not be able to make his case for at least a few games, and perhaps more. White Sox slugger Carlos Quentin, who has had a remarkable breakthrough season with 36 homers and 100 RBIs, is sidelined with a sore right forearm, and the team says he'll miss a week and maybe longer. If Quentin can't come back anytime soon, Pedroia has to be considered the easy favorite for MVP, and no, I never would have thought three months ago that I'd be writing those words.

5. It's not quite Pedroia-esque, but Brandon Moss has been on an impressive tear himself lately for the Pirates, batting .366 with four homers since Aug. 20, and posting multiple hits in five of his last eight games. You might recall that Moss was a binky of ours around here - I still think he will be a better hitter than David Murphy and could have Trot Nixon's career - but there was no real place for him with the Sox, and it's nice to see him getting his deserved and overdue chance to establish himself in the big leagues.

Should Dustin Pedroia win the American League MVP award? Let's put it this way: If he keeps hitting like this, his 2007 Rookie of the Year award is guaranteed to have some glitzy company atop the mantel.

Oh, we all know the Red Sox' version of Tanner Boyle doesn't exactly look the part. He'd be one of the smallest MVPs of modern times - he's listed at 5 feet 9 inches and 180 pounds, which, according to baseballreference.com, makes him allegedly two inches taller and 20 pounds heavier than two-time NL MVP Joe Morgan.

But Pedroia's numbers are staggering for a hitter of any stature. He's leading the American League in batting (.330), hits (188), multiple-hit games (55) and runs (108) and third in doubles (43) and total bases (283). He has knocked in 22 runs in his last 19 games, is batting .600 over his last seven games, and has nine hits in 14 at-bats in the cleanup spot.

According to the Elias Stats Bureau via Buster Olney's blog, Pedroia is the first player in Red Sox history with a five-run, a five-hit, and a five-RBI game in the same season. Considering the hitters who have graced this franchise, that is an incredibly impressive accomplishment.

As is this: Pedroia has emerged as the batter you want to see up in a key situation, and that is a heck of a feat considering one of his teammates is David Americo Ortiz, a.k.a. "The Greatest Clutch Hitter in the History of the Boston Red Sox." (No offense, Impossible Dreamers; that is what the plaque says.)

A couple of super-quick, semi-formed thoughts, along with a sort-of announcement you may have already heard . . .

One of the more rewarding things about following sports is when a touted young player makes his debut with the big club. So of course we're all anticipating watching Michael Bowden take on the White Sox today. If you haven't seen him yet, he's an interesting pitcher, with a something of a short-arm delivery that reminds me a little bit of Keith Foulke, and uncanny poise and command for a 21-year-old. The more often I saw him in Portland, the more I liked him. And though Clay Buchholz's struggles make me hesitant to expect anything but maddening inconsistency out of a young pitcher, I'm glad Bowden is getting this start rather than the likes of David Pauley or Charlie Zink. Maybe he's ready for this, maybe he isn't, but at the worst today we should catch glimpses of what promises to be a bright future.

* * *

The commenters and emailers were right: I absolutely should have listed Javier Vazquez among my favorite Yankees in the previous post. He's been a great friend to the Red Sox through the years, last night being the latest example, and I just can't figure out why he's not a better pitcher. He's the definition of an enigma: he has ace stuff, a high K rate, seems like a bright guy, and yet he's more or less a No. 3 starter. Maybe his fastball is too straight, but still, he should be better.

* * *

A Yankees fan buddy of mine always liked to point out - usually in the midst of a crazy-eyed rant about how Jim Rice should not have won the '78 MVP award - that Ron Guidry's 25-3 record that season resulted in the best winning percentage by a 20-game winner in, I believe, modern baseball history, or something like that. (Sorry. I was usually slipping into a coma by the time he got to the actual facts.) With that in mind, I find myself wondering if Daisuke Matsuzaka might run the table on his next five or so starts this season, and if he can't go, say, 21-2, then here's to Cleveland's Cliff Lee (19-2) getting at least one more victory without a loss this season. Guidry was a class act for sure, but I'm all for any Yankee-related reminders of the '78 season being stricken from the record books.

Why nine? Because even though I almost - almost - pity them right now, I still couldn't think of 10. Feel free to add yours in the comments . . .

Mariano Rivera: His gracious laughter when his contributions to the '04 championship were acknowledged on opening day the following season told me once and for all that he's an okay dude. I just wish he'd get old one of these seasons.

Johnny Damon: I second the spot-on sentiment of my buddy DD:

"He can switch uniforms like a turncoat, abandon his idiotic persona, and even homer twice against the hometown team. But I can't find a way to dislike Johnny Damon. He's a nice guy, a happy guy, and regardless of what he might do in pinstripes, after Oct. 17, 2004, he'll always be okay in my book."

Exactly. Initially, I loathed Damon for taking the Yankees' money, but as time as passed, I've become more appreciative of him and all he accomplished here. His grand slam in Game 7 off Javier Vazquez was the moment that made us believe that this time it was going to be different, dammit, and that's a lasting legacy. Damon plays for them now, but he'll always be one of ours. Plus, you know he wishes he had stayed.

Bobby Murcer: Everyone says nice things about people when they die. Here's what tells you the appreciation for Murcer was sincere: Everyone said kind things about him long before anyone knew he was sick.

Tim Raines: Despite his reckless youth, he built a Hall of Fame case in Montreal by doing a pretty accurate Rickey Henderson imitation. By the time he arrived in New York he was a respected, mature veteran who is credited to this day by Derek Jeter for teaching him how to carry himself like a professional. Despite this despicable transgression, I still admire him and hope Cooperstown calls.

Oscar Gamble: An icon of the '70s - seriously, click that link for a truly awesome photo - he was also one heck of a platoon slugger. Check out those adjusted OPS numbers.

My buddy Dave D'Onofrio makes an excellent case that Sunday's thrilling 6-5 win over Toronto well may go down as a turning point in the season, the inspiring, we're-all-in-this-together victory sure to provide the fuel for more delirious fun in the next two months.

It's an understandible sentiment - hey, who isn't giddy when Coco Crisp, of all people, hits a meaningful home run, or when Manny Delcarmen finally flashes the poise to match his ungodly stuff? But while I have espoused similar thoughts myself through recent seasons, and certainly hope Dave's theory proves true this year, I can't help but be skeptical of the Defining Moment concept this time around, for a couple of reasons.

Foremost, the Red Sox are not winning anything of consequence if the condition of Josh Beckett's elbow continues to be a troublesome mystery. Jon Lester's a wonderful young pitcher, and Daisuke Matsuzaka somehow has managed to win 15 of 17 decisions, but Beckett, at age 28, already stands among the greatest postseason pitchers of all time. When healthy, he's the epitome of an ace, the Sox's trump card over everyone else, the one pitcher no one wants to face in the playoffs. The Sox can probably win without J.D. Drew, they can possibly win without Mike Lowell, and they sure as hell can win without Julio Lugo. But without Beckett for any length, these Sox have to be considered more pretender than contender, no matter how many affirming victories over the Blue Jays they can accummulate.

Beyond that, baseballreference serves to inform us that the moments we remember as pivotal in a particular season really weren't at all during that particular time. In 2004, the Sox went 5-5 in the 10 games after Jason Varitek introduced Alex Rodriguez to his mitt, and lost three out of their first five after Nomar Garciapparra was dealt at the trading deadline. Those future champs didn't really get rolling until mid-August, despite what our memories and highlight videos tell us.

And it seems to me that if any such moment occured during last season's title run, it was well after the postseason was in full swing: J.D. Drew's improbable grand slam early in Game 6 of the ALCS against Cleveland co-ace Fausto Carmona sent the Sox on a six-game winning streak that concluded with another party on the duck boats. Maybe I'm forgetting something, but in my mind the Red Sox managed to arrive in October without an obvious, unifying highlight.

Let's see, in the three days and nine at-bats since I pronounced last rites on Jason Varitek's bat, he's homered twice, clubbed a double, driven in three runs, scored twice, and inspired his legion of followers to fill my inbox with wittily worded missives on intangibles, handling pitchers, grit, guts, toughness, square jaws, and my own genetic and physiological shortcomings.

Until now, I never knew one could write an email with a Crayola.

C'mon, you should know by now that nobody needs to remind me that I have an occasional knack for writing declarative statements that are often quickly proven . . . well, very, very wrong.

What can I say? It's my gift. For my next trick, I'll pronounce Coco Crisp useless and Manny Delcarmen gutless, all but assuring that they'll respectively be the AL Player and Pitcher of the Month for September. You can thank me at the parade.

(In a related story, I'm glad that feel-good, long-form Manny Ramirez retrospective I was working on a month ago remained unpublished in the days before the final chapter of Manny Being Insubordinate. That one would have been tough to live down.)

But while I can admit I've gulped down my share of delicious crow over the years, I'm not admitting fault on this; I'm merely temporarily wrong this time. I am certain it's game-set-match for Varitek as an adequate major league hitter, let alone a productive one. He's hitting .218 this season. He hit .225 after the break last season. This is not a slump; this is who he is.

I'm not sure if you loyal members of the Varitek Army (hat tip: reader Cap'n Dunsel) wear your blindfolds all the time or only when your rugged hero is at the plate, but I'll spell it out again slowly just in case:

He. Can't. Hit. A. Decent. Fastball.

The clueless Orioles lefty who threw him the curveball that he whacked for a double Tuesday night should have been demoted to Aberdeen before the ball returned to the infield. I hope Varitek sent him a thank-you note for the generous gift.

Anyway, this acts as something of a segue to what I really wanted to write about today: the great Dustin Pedroia. Now there's someone I misjudged.

Oh, I didn't think he'd be a stiff, or worse, a David Eckstein clone. The only traits those two have in common is that they are 1) short and 2) pasty.

But after seeing Pedroia play often at Portland in '05, I was sure he was a Jody Reed type, someone who would bat .280ish, bang 40 or so doubles in a good season, and make all of the plays within his limited defensive range.

I thought he'd be steady, popular, and utterly replaceable. Instead, he's become someone you don't want to imagine the team without.

Playing a long overdue nine innings while being dumbfounded that '06 white flag Jason Johnson is back in the major leagues. Can Kevin Jarvis be far behind? . . .

1. It seems the majority around here is conspiring to deny that the captain has no clothes - I swear the Red Sox radio crew commended him for hitting a routine fly ball to the warning track a few days ago - so I'll just come out and say it: Jason Varitek is finished as a productive major league hitter. Finished. It's over. It's okay to admit it. He's hitting .213, and that's what he is - a .213 hitter. He can't hit a decent fastball anymore, and when you can't hit a decent fastball, you might as well change your name to Grebeck. He's 36 years old, catchers tend to age in dog years, his bat has always been on the slow side, and now the thing is about as quick as Sean Casey. I admire Varitek, and understand that his value is somewhat greater than his batting average would indicate, but I don't understand why it's so taboo to admit the truth: His bat speed is gone, and it's not coming back. It happens to all of them, even gritty, gutty captains who run out every predictable 6-4-3 grounder.

2. So now that Jed Lowrie has won over the faithful with his spot-on Bill Mueller imitation lately, here's the question that must be asked: Will Julio Lugo get his job back when (or if) he returns from his injury? I'm not saying Terry Francona is loyal to a fault when it comes to his veterans, but if he coached the Patriots, Drew Bledsoe would still be the starting quarterback. Then again, Lugo was so consistently brutal that even Tito might be able to resist writing his name on the lineup card. Come to think of it, this might be the ultimate test for him.

3. Nick Cafardo probably would file this under Apropos of Nothing, but I'm going to call it Cool Things You Notice While Poking Around Baseball Reference.com For A Lost Hour (because that's way catchier): Derek Jeter's career OPS+ is 123. Nomar Garciaparra's? 125. Given that Nomah is a shell of what he was a decade ago, it stunned me that he would still hold any advantage over the living monument the Yankees play at shortstop . . . but then, it's awfully easy to forget just how great and beloved he was during his Boston heyday. Despite his acrimonious departure from Boston (hey, that sounds familiar), he'll always be one of ours, and it's nice to see him enjoy something of a resurgence with the Dodgers recently.

4. I'm trying not to be too alarmed by the whupping the Blue Jays put on Josh Beckett today, and though the 4.34 ERA is certainly unbecoming of a pitcher of his ability, I tend to agree with Dave O'Brien's assertion that it was little more than "one bad afternoon." Though he admittedly threw some meatballs today, the Beckett I've seen lately bears a strong enough resemblance to the true ace of a season ago, and I think the Sox are equally encouraged, this hiccup excepted. Anyway, I'm always wary of the Blue Jays; Toronto's pitching coach, Brad Arnsberg, had the same role in Florida when Beckett was on the staff, and I've always suspected he's the first to notice when Beckett is tipping his pitches or develops some sort of tell in his delivery.

5. A field goal's worth of thoughts on the Patriots: 1) Tom Brady could have his sore foot amputated and his other leg in a cast from roast-beef-lovin' toe to his hip, and I'd still rather see him taking the snaps than Matt Cassel. I'll never understand why the Patriots don't have a serviceable, proven veteran as a backup. 2) I'm pretty sure John Lynch was brought in for the sole purpose of making Rodney Harrison look fast. 3) I'm beginning to think I'm the last person in New England who thinks Chad Jackson is going to pan out, and that includes those standing on the Patriots sideline.

"He generates gap power out of a Jeff Bagwell-like crouch. Youkilis isn't blessed with a lot of physical tools, but he's athletic for his size. He doesn't clog the bases and he gets the job done at third base. Youkilis's advanced approach could land him in high Class A in 2002, when the Red Sox will begin to find out if he's for real."

- The 2002 Baseball America Prospect Handbook, which rated Kevin Youkilis the 29th-best prospect in the Red Sox system, behind the likes of Seung Song, Rene Miniel, Tony Blanco, Dernell Stenson, Josh Hancock, Phil Dumatrait, Steve Lomasney, Kevin Huang, Ryo Kumagai, Sunny Kim, Byeong An, Juan Diaz, and coincidentally, Frank Francisco.

* * *

I've long believed that no player in the major leagues is self-made; you need a ridiculous amount of natural talent and specialized physical skills (off-the-eye-charts vision and Forrest Gump's hand-eye coordination, for starters) just to get a sniff of the big leagues.

(That even goes for Hermey the Dentist. Sure, McCarver can rhapsodize about the fire burning behind those adorable pink eyes, but truth is that Eckstein's got elite athletic ability compared to 99.9 percent of us. Seriously.)

Among Red Sox players who have made the absolute most of the remarkable gifts they were given, Kevin Youkilis is right there with Dustin Pedroia atop the overachievers list.

Youkilis has come a long way from the days when, based on his "Greek God of Walks" notoriety from "Moneyball," he was little more than an intriguing curiosity in a farm system that had about as many true major league prospects as the Nashua Pride.

In his five seasons with the Red Sox, he's been a lot of things: Rookie Along For The Ride, Fan Favorite (even a cyn