It’s going to start seeming generic pretty soon, but I can’t watch Tim Wakefield get a win without feeling like I’ve just watched a throwback game.
Grrrrrrrrrr. Lauren Bacall; not too hard on the eyes, is she?
Maybe it’s because he’s old as the hills. Maybe it’s because the only products he officially endorses are A) A mortgage company and B) a hair coloring (gratuitous aside warning: seriously, is there a combination of endorsements that’s less hip than hair coloring and mortgages? If we put an erectile disfunction pill in there could we call it the post-midlife crisis trifects?).
Maybe, as all of these factors point out, it’s because Tim Wakefield has become a classic. He throws with rapid pace and relative abandon. He throws lots - looottttsss - of innings. And he’s sported the exact same look since he first got to Boston. Scraggly half beard, close-cropped G.I. hair, slight paunch in the 35 waists. It’s absolutely uncanny.
So, when Wake gets a win, he deserves a classic. And after an afternoon matinee like yesterday, he earned himself a Lauren Bacall. The Big Sleep? Dark Passage? How to Marry a Millionaire? Seriously, how fabulous is Lauren Bacall?
I’ve got your answer. She’s as fabulous as a 41 year-old knuckleballer tossing a seven inning gem on his birthday. She’s as fabulous as a Sox win in which Big Papi, Dustin Pedroia and - shock of all shock - Doug Mirabelli all came through with big hits. She’s as fabulous as Eric Gagne coming in in a non-save situation, and blowing down two batters with fastballs and coming within a bad third-base side play by Dr. Double (gratuitous side note No. 2: Is anyone else extremely concerned that Mike Lowell has become a strict singles hitter here? Where is the power? Could he still be stung in that wrist?) of finishing the game 1-2-3.
It turns out Bobby Doerr is really into Dustin. In a platonic way of course. Sheesh, the guy’s like 90. Give him a break!
And, perhaps most apropos, she’s as fabulous as Bobby Doerr celebrating the 50th anniversary of Bobby Doerr day at Fenway Park with a speech extolling the virtues of all things Pedroia, then watching his Sox beat the Orioles in his final afternoon at Fenway Park.
For once in the past couple of months, Beckett had more than one run of support. In fact, he had two homers from David Ortiz alone. But last night, unlike nearly every other Beckett start this year, that wasn’t enough.
Alice Kramden: cute in the 50’s, but as a 70 year-old with fishnet stockings? Egghhhhh.
In retrospect, even four runs wouldn’t have been enough.
And Beckett had no problem showing off that frustration, slamming his glove against the dugout fence repeatedly after leaving the game with a deficit. Suddenly, the Sox’ burgeoning ace has lost two straight, is attacking inanimate objects like a drunken Ralph Kramden and scowling like a man who was scored by Alysa Milano.
Hey, come to think of it …
That’s really what last night was for Becket: an evening where he left thinking he was going home with Alyssa again, then waking up the next morning with Audrey Meadows (that’s Honeymooners star Alice Kramden, for those of you who don’t stay up late enough to watch TVLand). In her seventies. Wearing fishnet stockings. You get the idea.
So what does Beckett have to do to get his once-prohibitive Cy Young season back on track? It’s really not that difficult. He has to stop leaving balls over the middle of the plate. He has to keep mixing pitches against a team that’s seen him plenty like Baltimore. And he has to get lucky enough not to hit up against a buzzsaw of a line-up like the Orioles are throwing out there at the moment.
Josh was not so excited about playing Jackie Gleason’s role.
But more importantly, the Red Sox have to figure out how to get over a tough loss on a day when they were counting on reaping the benefits of a big-deal bounce. Eric Gagne is great, but he’s worthless unless he’s setting up a Jonathan Papelbon save.
That’s not happening unless Beckett - as well as either Julian Tavarez or Tim Wakefield today - can hold a lead through seven innings.
That was the collective sigh of relief from Red Sox Nation you just felt crossing the country like a cool breeze. It’s not every night you can watch Jonathan Papelbon blow a save by hanging a meatball across the plate, and still find a team incompetent enough to let you come back and steal the game.
Red Sox, meet your Saturday night date: 2007 Britney Spears.
Thank God for the Devil Rays.
Still, there was plenty to be happy about last night, wasn’t there? Just look at the tape.
1) Jon Lester had a solid second performance. 6 2/3 innings, four runs? The Sox will take that from a fifth starter. Every time. We’ll have to see what Stiffler Gabbard can do the next time out, but I’d have to say that Jon Boy is your leader in the clubhouse for keeping the slot when Curt Schilling returns.
2) The pen, with the exception of a rare off night from Paps, was terrific once again. Solid work from Okie (another perfect inning) and Kyle Snyder, who worked two innings to get the win. And that’s not even mentioning Javier Lopez’s perfect 12th innings. Just when it looks like the guy who gets the cold shoulder when Schilling returns. Hard not to love that.
3) Youk truly is back in a groove now that he finally got himself moved from fifth. Watching him hit at more like a .400 clip has to have teams coming up on the schedule pooping their pants.
4) Is it just me, or is Julio Lugo actually getting comfortable enough that he’s becoming more patient at the plate, too? That’s a scary thought, isn’t it? The guy is actually starting to look like the leadoff hitter Theo Epstein and co. dropped $9 mill. a year for.
Ahhh. Now THAT’S more like it.
So, you put all that together and what do you get? A slightly disturbing, but ultimately comforting win. Not unlike landing a one-night stand with modern-day Britney Spears.
Think about it. She once was the hottest celebratant on the scene. She sold platinum CD’s based purely on her body. And even after two kids, she can flash that look. Besides, you’d have the Punk’d factor on Justin Timberlake, which would instantly bring you infamy. Strong points of considering there, no?
Still, today’s Britney is nothing like the vintage, ‘01 Ms. Spears. She’s a divorce who’s already popped out two kids. She’s gone through various stages of psychosis over the past six months, including one bout with head shaving and another, at least according to a recent OK Mag photo shoot, with greasy fast food.
But given all that, you’d still have to swallow the pride and go head in for a night, right? She’s still Britney Spears. Just like the Sox have to swallow their pride, admit that Tampa Bay took them to extra innings, and just be happy with the outcome. After all, it is a win.
- The “Mass packaged psuedo-granola chocolate bar (Kudos) of the night” goes to: Youk. Two clutch hits for a bunch of RBI, including the killer in the 12th. Strong honorable mention consideration for Kyle Snyder’s relief work, but you can’t overlook the huge Youk hits after pulling out the extra-innings win.
It’s great when a terrific trend comes together, isn’t it?
Just ask Tim Wakefield. He’ll tell you: Yes. Yes it is.
Sultry, classy … old. Wakefield’s performance last night was all of thee above.
After last night’s 7-1 win, Wakefield is still undefeated at Tampa Bay’s Tropicana Field. That’s like Elizabeth Taylor marrying a movie star, divorcing him, and rebounding with another movie star. Timmy Wake is that automatic.
Kevin Youkilis’ 3-run moonshot didn’t hurt things. Neither did the continued assaults of battery from Coco Crisp, Manny “Being Manny” Ramirez and the finally healthy (?) Big Papi. All knocked a single hit, as did Alex Cora and J.D. Drew (though he didn’t do nearly enough to convince Sox fans he doesn’t suck).
But the story was all Wakefield. Six strong innings, a 12th win. By the time he left in the seventh it was all over. And that’s before you factor in the suddenly un-hittable Sox pen.
Man, Liz Taylor used to be really hot. And seductive.
So, while Timmy Wake was stealing Liz Taylor’s strange, cold heart from what remains of Michael Jackson’s original face, the Sox were getting ready for two more days in the Trop. If Jon Lester or Dice-K can feel as comfortable in the Trop as Timmy Wake does, then Boston may finally take back their rightful place in Tampa Bay, which is a lot like the role of the colonial reign of Taylor’s home country: as an oppressor.
- The daily “Mass Packaged psuedo-granola candy bar (Kudos)” goes to: Timmy Wake, who was spectacularly solid through six full frames. Isn’t that the perfect way to describe his M.O., too? Spectacularly solid. I think we’re sticking with that one folks. Get used to it.
She’s not young, but Tina Turner can still occasionally turn heads. And she packs a punch.
The Sox struck back for 14 - count ‘em, 14 - runs at the Jake last night. And they did it against the remarkably average named Cliff Lee who was, well, remarkably average. Manny “Being Manny” Ramirez drilled two homers. Wily Mo Pena finally found a crop of pitchers dumb enough to throw him fastballs. Even the guys who weren’t en fuego - Dustin “Mighty Mite” Pedroia, for one - got at least one base knock (Pedroia went 1-for-6).
And after a night in which they were thoroughly silenced last night was an almost violent response. Like Tina Turner taking a slap from Ike, then kicking his ass with a shoe.
We also learned that Kason Gabbard may not quite be ready to roll yet. At least we learned that he’s having a hard time getting through the fifth inning on the road. Stiffler looked good through three, got through the fourth, then combusted in the inning he needed to get through to earn the win. Comfort came via Julian Tavarez (bet you didn’t think you’d read that so quickly, huh?), at least for two innings. Then the Big Lebowski started rolling up softballs, the Tribe hit some and suddenly Francona was turning to Hideki Okajima and Jonathan Papelbon to turn in two straight spotless innings. It’s always nice to see the Okie-Paps connection come through, but when you score 14 runs, it almost feels like a waste, doesn’t it?
MBM was himself last night, to the tune of two monster bombs out of the Jake.
Almost as much of a waste as Tina Turner’s talent, which was always overshadowed by her image. Not that there’s anything particularly wrong with that, at least in her heyday.
- The nightly mass packaged, psuedo chocolate granola bar (Kudos) goes to: MBM, whose two monster shots were outright stunning. Think Manny’s had a good time hitting back in the Jake? It’s hard not to give a nod to ol’ Wily Coyote, but hey, when you crush a ball almost 500 feet, you’re the player of the game.
Good looks or just goggles? Better ask Josh after last night.
The Boston ace has been absolutely terrific over his last three starts, yet he’s only nailed down one win. Instead of a MLB-best 15 wins, he’s stuck at 13. That’s no better than C.C. “don’t call me Jumbo” Sabathia, who Dice-K one-upped last night.
It’s not fair. But what’s worse is how close Beckett has been to those wins. In both games, the Sox have come through with - you guessed it - zippo. He gave up three quick hits in the second inning against Toronto and … lost 2-0. Last night, he gave up one monster homer when he left a hanging fastball over the plate to Franklin Gutierrez and … lost 1-0.
He’s so close, it’s painful. It’s like spending all night hitting on someone at the bar, convinced that they’re an A-1 pull. Then, as Semisonic’s “Closing Time” plays at 1:58, the lights come on and you realize that you’ve been talking to so much makeup your pick-up case could be an extra from Bonzo the Clown.
Yuck.
Making matters, worse, the Damn Yankees won. Again. They’re withing 6.5, and evidently they finally passed the “Screw it, we’re not losing again this year” referendum. A little later than usual this year, but hey, there’s still time left.
So, with 61 games left and a lead of just more than six games, should the Sox worry? That all depends. If the offense hits like last night’s B-squad plus Big Papi does, there’ll be a lot of squirming and chugging of Advil down the stretch.
And if the bats wake up again? Well, then there probably won’t be too many more closing-time disasters.
Last night Dice-K was Boston’s angel, just like Claire could have been their’s by night’s end.
How else do you describe a performance like last night’s, a game in which the $110 million man looked every penny like the $110 million spent on him. Daisuke Matsuzaka was almost perfect. Four hits through seven innings? Against one of the best hitting teams in baseball? Red Sox fans will take that every time. Every damn time. Then, you hand the ball over to the nearly-perfect Hideki Okajima and Jonathan Papelbon, and it’s game over, thanks for coming, please drive home safely.
It was an epic win, a fitting conclusion to an epic pitcher’s duel. And that calls for the kind of beauty often reserved for epic melodramas. Like, say, Claire Danes circa her Garbage-themed Romeo & Juliet days.
But perhaps more importantly, Dice-K’s brilliant performance last night may help reinforce the trait that - above all others - the Sox saw in Matsuzaka-san that made them more that willing to plunk down $51 million plus just to talk to him: his competitiveness.
As he has a handful of other times this year, Matsuzaka pitched his best against a top competitor. Not only is C.C. Sabathia one of the AL’s top aces, he’s also a potential future playoff competitor. Last night, he was toast in Dice-K’s Braun convection oven. Ummmm, toast. Hot buttered toast.
Claire can save Dice-K and the Sox anytime.
And there was plenty of toast to go around, with Matsuzaka fanning five compared to Sabathia’s seven. And though Dice-K again struggled with his command more than he hopes to - he walked three - he artfully wiggled out of jams with huge strikeouts and ground ball contact outs. Unlike past starts where he’s labored above 100 pitches by the sixth inning, last night he nailed down his seven complete on only 98 tosses. That’s the kind of efficiency the Sox have expected him to settle into once he adjusted to the new baseball and strike zone.
In the end, it all clicked for Boston at the Jake, thanks to Dice-K, a diving fielding flub by old friend Trot Nixon, and a slippery bloop fly from Mike Lowell.
OK, we didn’t really have a reason for this shot … we just wanted another picture of the lovely Ms. Danes.
Put those ingredients together, and you get a truly epic performance, the kind that usually ends with mind numbing beauty, the kind you can only dream of celebrating the next morning with the likes of Mademoiselle Danes.
If it seems like the last two starts for Kason Gabbard have been a little bit hard to believe, it’s probably because they have. In fact, it’s hard to believe that Gabbard really trusts them himself.
Yes, I think Sox fans could handle a free Rebecca Romijn, don’t you?
Still, we better get used to him. The way he’s pitching, he’s like a new incarnation of Bronson Arroyo, minus the funky leg kick. He even wears the same number. His rise has been so precipitous, that given the physical similarities he shares with pseudo movie star Seann William Scott, his most recent bedeviling performance on the mound should be honored with the appearance of another pseudo movie star: Rebecca Romijn.
OK, like Scott, Romijn can’t act. But she’s so smokin’ she’s going to keep landing parts. Probably until she’s 40. Maybe later.
And the way the Sox are hitting, Gabbard isn’t the only one worthy of pseudo stars, or better. Julio Lugo is near .500 over the past 11 games. Yes, I said Julio Lugo. And guess who’s almost as hot as he is? That’s right, everyone’s favorite cereal boy. Coco Crisp had 7 - count them, 7 - RBI yesterday. Seven. That’s ridiculous. Add in J.D. “Umm, sure, I feel ok today, let’s play” Drew, who even showed a flash of being able to hit somewhere besides leadoff yesterday, and suddenly Boston has the lineup everyone thought it would back in April. Not to mention the unexpected addition of the littlest big man, Dustin Pedroia, who is among baseball’s top 10 hitters for average. Raise your hand if you saw that coming. If you’re raising your hand, you’re a liar.
Romijn: Not even dingy body paint can keep her down.
Gabbard looks like he’s going to keep throwing until he’s almost 40. Yes, he’s only five starts into his most recent trip through the AL rotation. And yes, this is only his second go-round in a Sox uni. But would anyone else be surprised if he somehow forces Boston’s hand, and is a foregone conclusion in the No. 4 or No. 5 slot of the rotation next year? In an interesting, and somewhat ironic way, the guy he may be hurting the most is the man he’s supposed to be filling in for: Curt Schilling (who had 3 innings of work in Pawtucket yesterday, with 6 strikeouts). Who needs a $13 million per year, perpetually-gimpy Schilling giving up 3 runs per game, when you could have a $350,000 young Gabbard alternating shutouts and 3 or 4 run performances. That seems like a no-brainer, doesn’t it?
Almost as much of a no-brainer as casting Romijn in body paint. Those X-Men producers knew what they were doing, didn’t they?
The Sox win, breaking a tough losing streak. Josh Beckett resumes his role of “I’m going to be a bigger badass than any other pitcher in the bigs,” the Yanks get blasted, making Mike Mussina look shakier than he has in years, and suddenly Julio “what me worry” Lugo and Coco Crisp look like MVPs.
So here’s the question: When did Julio sell his soul to learn how to swing again?
Seriously, doesn’t Lugo look like a completely different player than the one Sox fans have seen all year? Hasn’t he started to look like the star he was in Tampa Bay, hitting .280 every year with mucho base thefts and congestion on the paths? Doesn’t he look like a headache waiting to happen, even if he is completely insane?
Doesn’t that basically make him Tom Cruise?
I think it does. Look at the factors. 1) He’s surging back from a major slump, all while associated with A-list stars. Check. 2) He’s absolutely crazy. Check. 3) He is definitely faster, and smaller, than you think he is based on his payroll figures. Check.
So, that leaves Julio one gorgeous woman on his arm away from a name change to Tom Cruise. That’s where Rebecca De Mornay comes in.
It’s a classic scene, like last night was a classic win. Just admit you love them both already. Admit it.
You remember the Risky Business star. She was smoking in ‘83. After last night, that’s the De Mornay that deserves to remembered, too.
So, here’s a throwback for Julio. He’s probably still working off throwing plenty back after his third career granny last night. And no, despite her advancing age, I’m not talking about De Mornay in that sentence.
The Red Sox can’t keep losing games this way can they? Seriously, can they?
After last night, it appears they can. Consider the box scoring entering the eighth inning. The Sox had nine hits but just two runs. The White Sox? Three hits and … three runs. It was a veritable contrast in relative efficiencies, the White Sox clearly proving that the less artificial dye in your hosiery, the more often you cross the plate compared to the number of times you reach first base.
Caroline Rhea: She’s no Melissa Joan Hart.
Well, maybe it’s not quite that clear cut, but this much is certain: Boston found a way to lose again, in another game in which it got a solid outing from a starting pitcher (Daisuke Matsuzaka wasn’t in vintage form, but he held the White Sox to two runs), in another outing when it crowded the base paths with runners and, in a rare case of late, an outing where it had a chance to gain another game on the charging Yankees. In honor of the forthcoming Simpsons movie, “Doh!”
In fact, let’s keep honoring Matt Groening with today’s “The Morning After” and go with an charming actress who was chubby and distinctly unappealing even in her Groening appearance: Caroline Rhea.
Who gave this woman a TV show?
That’s right, the once and former second-deck star of “Sabrina, the Teenage Witch” was up for the taking for whichever Sox team went south by game’s end last night. This time, it was the red hoes, who certainly aren’t doing any raking.
Because of that, they’re not raking in top late-night talent for the good ol’ TMA, either, which is probably why Rhea is smiling in that shot right there. As SoxNest has been saying a lot lately: Yuck.
