Results tagged ‘ Papelbon ’
Joy in Beantown & the Slumping Blog
Happiness makes up in height what it lacks in length, said the poet Robert Frost. If you have spent a few days or weeks in my class on the Confessional Poets, or long enough in a bar in conversation with me, you would hear me repeat this quote. I am interested in Happiness. In recent years, the subject has been the source of many studies, a great deal of research and blogs(See Daniel Gilbert) and books, and now perhaps more of a topic at the tavern. (Well, perhaps it’s always been a topic at the tavern.) The difference is now we are looking at sustaining joy, beyond its term limits implied by Frost. But consider readers of Dante. The number of those who study The Inferno significantly outdo those who read Purgatorio or Paradiso, no to mention how many times The Inferno has been translated into other languages. Could this point to our desire to understand pain and tragedy because it feels more mysterious than joy? Or is it that pain is the territory we most often occupy?
The question I have about our current state, which is first place, is if the relief and joy we are feeling now is a result of how terrible April went for the Sox? On a more personal point, my blog has slumped for many reasons recently(including the switch to WordPress) but one of the reasons this week is a solid feeling of contentment. So, here is what I would like to celebrate with you, in communal happiness(doesn’t pain always feel too personal?):
1)Let’s give the middle relief some. How about Rich Hill’s curveball in the 8th in Cleveland
2) Carl Crawford’s awakening
3) Carl Crawford’s awakening
4)Carl Crawford’s awakening
5)I can’t say it enough, but I will move on to Ellsbury. We missed you last year for certain.
6)I bow down everyday to A.G.
7)How about Pap’s consistency?
8)If you get down for a minute or two one of these nights, consider that sweep a few weeks ago. You know the one.
Closer Nation
Sometimes Jonathan Papelbon’s syntax is a little strange, not to mention a few mixed metaphors and some surprising, thinly veiled insults to others around him. Sometimes Jonathan Papelbon is a little strange, without the words. But in recent days, the king of the Red Sox closers–though that title is nebulous according to many–has made some sense, both scholarly and profound. With all the jubilation about our Winter Signings Wonderland, we have been counting the wins. 100? 103? The best records in baseball in 84 years? But Pap brings us back to reality. He deflates the hype the way he punctures the hearts of autograph seekers by driving right by them with nary a glance.
We don’t have the best bullpen in baseball until we win the World Series, he says. This led me to consider how an overloaded pitching staff can suddenly look like the rotation of the PawSox. After last year’s decimating injuries to just about everyone in the lineup, we must be cautious about our expectations. That doesn’t mean my heart isn’t racing with the sight of palm trees.More importantly, though, I am thinking about the way we assume our bullpen is overloaded. We assume Bard is the closer of the future. Hey, we have Bobby Jenks, too. Was anyone paying attention when baseball’s brightest star unhinged his elbow in the nation’s capital? Of course we all were watching. We watched more closely as our middle relief and closers blew lead after lead. We have the bats, but never ever enough arms.
Spring Rituals
The photos in yesterday’s Globe of the early arrivals reminded me of one significant fact in baseball–how many young players will play their guts out and never make the show.First there was the shot of Pap, looking perhaps like he needs to shed a few pounds, but possessing still his steely determination.Then there were the beautiful shots of “minor league players” unnamed, on the mound and strapped by workout parachutes. Parachutes not for landing anywhere but for pulling you deeper against the wind while running. As everything will seem to go with them, the game speeding them along to professional ranks, the reality of the greatness of so many others crowding the path will grow in front of them, in the grapefruit’s damp mornings and afternoon heat.
One of the great things of the game, which these players already know on so many deeper levels than I will ever know, is how one can return to it again and again for meaning and understanding. I love how the rituals of spring keep growing, with the celebrations for Truck Day and Pitchers & Catchers, etc. . It is sign to me that we want more from the game, with an almost insatiable desire. In celebration of every ritual, big and small, for Spring, and for the minor league players running wind sprints in Fort Myers, as I write this far north of them, and who will be still out there as the sun is setting, here is a poem by Mairead Small Staid:
IN THE TWILIGHT
A diamond is geometric, perfect,
lasting; no mathematician understands this
as we do. Paley found a watch,
believed in a watchmaker–
we do not question three strikes, three outs,
nine innings. We know like we know nothing else:
gods hewed this gem. Nothings less
could gild the grass in such a dying sun.
Nothing less could blur time like a field in haze.
The lanky leadoff, now, freckled wrists jutting,
crowding the plate, young enough to be cocky
& terrified–his bat kisses the ball, sweet & hard
& brief: we stand to watch this moment
arcing in the twilight, these boys
exploding into men.
(Published in The Southern Review, Spring 2010, page 297)
Mairead Small Staid is a resident of Massachusetts and a student at Pomona College. She has other work in The New York Quarterly
Money, Momentum, Nava, and The Closer
ESPN’s number three top play of the day is Nava’s diving catch. In Red Sox top plays, it is number 1. My other top play is Papelbon’s save, one of the best performances by any closer this year. He threw 14 pitches, 11 for strikes, while using every one of his pitches, including a 97 or 98 mph fastball. Mike’s Napoli’s whiff was a work of pitching art. For his 29th save, his numbers were almost identical. I know I am skipping over the painful blown save, but let’s look at Papelbon at his best. Dan Shaughnessy recently reported that there are only two other closers with better numbers than Pap. Mariano Rivera and Christy Mathewson. I can’t solve the debate about the closers, but I do know that two pitchers like the Bard and Pap are what most teams can only dream about. Give him the contract he wants, Theo. And hold onto the Bard. Many of our one-run game losses result from a rickety pen.
After the great win last night, with Nava’s stealthy dive, two things are important. First, momentum. How many times this year have we felt the high of a great win, with the premonition of the beginning of momentum, thinking, “hey it begins here, we will now win 12 of 14 or something.” Only more games and time will tell. Secondly, Nava’s hunger, along with his workmanship grit is all over that play. Watch the replay a few more times and what comes to mind is how bad he wants to play in the bigs.
One often wonders how the huge contract gets between the ears of a player. Jayson Werth of the Phillies comes to mind. A mid-season slump may have something to do with trade talks and his free agency. It might be a romantic notion to suggest that in this game money changes the intangible desires to win and prove oneself, but look at the young talent on this team. Watch Ryan Kalish getting advice last night from J.D. Drew after catching a fly ball either of them could have grabbed and you might see what’s in the blood of a younger player. Maybe we ought to let Pap keep grinding his teeth to more saves without the big payday.
How I Became a Yankees Fan
Headline writers have fun, don’t they? Whether you buy newspapers like the New York Post or even the likes of the Global News, if that’s what it’s called, whatever your political party, sometimes titles are the most entertaining element of the news. So I thought I would follow the Globe’s “Shock and Awful” (with reminders of the bellyaches we are experiencing now) and toss a little shocking news out there with a title that might alert readers.
It’s not the same as “Man eats his way out of whale that swallowed him,” but you see when one types in “Red Sox’ on Google, the third or fourth choice links us naturally with the Yankees. Fiction writer Ron Currie Jr. has written one damn amazing essay about being a Sox fan, with the title I have inserted tonight as my own(titles can’t be copyrighted right?)
If you are feeling awful right now, following one of the most frustrating losses of the year, any good doctor would prescribe reading Currie’s essay, with a few drinks and good cigar maybe. I have been talking about The Southern Review’s Special Issue on Baseball since the season began. It’s loaded with great pieces, poetry, fiction, as well as non-fiction by fans and former players. Currie’s essay had me rolling in the sand, laughing out loud the other day.(ex. “Of course the big daddy of all disappointments, the event that made living in New England feel an awful lot like getting a rectal exam from Poseidon in the ninth circle of Hell, was the 1986 World Series.”)
One central piece of the guru’s(Currie in this case) wisdom is that “[b]aseball is a game in which injuries often determine the outcome of the season, so you learn to(try to) accept that.” The problem, the real pain, the true awfulness aiding and abetting some of the shock of today’s loss(and other parts of the season) is our list of the disabled. I am going to take a risk and suggest that the most crucial season-changing injuries are those to our catchers.
Vmart and Tek have suffered and so then our pitchers have turned beautiful leads into painful digits added to the loss column, right at the time we were making a move. I will have to ask around and throw this theory out to you to see if it has any weight. Maybe, like the bottom of a muddy pair of cleats, my brain isn’t operating clearly tonight after wanting to rip the Sox hat off my head, along with my head, and throw both into a fire and turn on Monday Night Football. There is a time, Currie says, when next year feels already like next year, but I am telling you, I won’t have any of it. Not yet.
Ron Currie Jr. is the author of Everything Matters! (2009) and God Is Dead(2008). He is the recipient of the New York Public Library Young Lions Fiction Award, as well as the Addison M. Metcalf Award in Literature from the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
The Major League team leader in blown saves since 2008 is not the Red Sox.
My notes for this entry, what might have been my focus with a victory, were initially focused around the 98 99 mph fastballs Pap was throwing. That was gas to match the Bard.
Nothing to Cheer About???
Professor Daniel Gilbert(a real professor as opposed to my nicknamed Globe journalists), a professor of psychology at Harvard, wrote in the NYTimes about the mind’s workings under pressure, as in the case of Rodriguez’s 600th home run. In his opening sentence, he says “The Boston Red Sox haven’t given their fans much to cheer about this summer, so we have had to take our pleasure where could find it, for example, by watching Alex Rodriguez of the Yankees struggle to hit his 600th career home run—again and again and again.”
I am not about to take on a Harvard Professor, especially one who has written excellent books on the subject of happiness. After reading his bio, I realized I didn’t know he also has a tv show, “The Emotional Life,” to top off his achievements. His essay, “The Weight at the Plate” is illuminating. But it’s that first sentence that has got me stirring this morning. Some may say, well that’s because it’s true and the truth hurts. Not only that, these injuries, especially Youk’s thumb, hurt like hell. But is all this swelling going to silence us? Are all these broken bones enough to choke our cheers?
I wrote about an article earlier in the season that challenged Red Sox fans to stop acting like Yankee fans. With 27 rings, the Yankees have come to expect a championship every year. That’s natural, even if some think that the way they got there is unnatural. So be it. With two rings in the last ten years, are we spoiled and greedy? First, we love this rivalry. And any great play or better, any victory over the Yankees, gives us something to cheer about. Will this be a Bronx massacre that desecrates our entire season? Well, maybe.
I keep thinking about the tickets I bought for October 2 at Fenway. The second to last game of the season AND it’s against the Yankees. Some somber fellow Sox fans have said to me that the game will be meaningless, why bother going. I won’t write my dissertation on why i love baseball here. I will say that there is a long list of moments this season where I have thrown my hat into the air in celebration, some of which are listed in my first-half highlights list. Yesterday I saw a surfer with a t-shirt that said, “The Journey is the Destination.” Somewhat of a cliche these days, bur you know that phrase stuck with me through the day. I don’t mean to get too mystical, but I do intend to convince myself, or even you, that this season is not even close to over.
Right of the Pesky Pole Notes:
After yesterday’s entry on Youk’s thumb, I started thinking about a list of things we need in place of Youk’s thumb, or more literally, his absence.
In no particular order:
Papelbon’s Poise
Kalish’s cool
Ellsbury’s speed
Drew’s clutch hits
Beltre’s bombs
Papi’s swagger
Please add more to the list. . . .
Hitting the Play Button More than Three Times
Thomas’ Trolley Top First Half Highlights
10) Big Papi Winning the Home Run Derby: Meaningless but memorable
9) Darnell’s first at-bat home run and game-winning sac fly: Who’s there? Darnell I am
8) Opening Day Comeback against the Yankees: Full Blossomed Optimism, which vanished faster than Jayson Werth’s liner back to Dice-K on May 22, which leads me to . . .
7) Dice-K’s One Hittter against the Phillies, May 22: Dreaming in Technicolor of the old Dice-K
6) Clay Buchholz’s Complete Game Shutout against the O’s, June 4th: Masterful Season in the making.
5) Big Papi’s 2 homer, 4 rbi pounding of the Tigers, May 14: Meaningful & memorable May
4) Papelbon’s save against the Yankees, May 18th: Saving the game and our souls
3) Nomah Night, May 5th: The Past is the Present, or something like that.
2) Dustin’s 3 HR Laser Show, Colorado, June 24th: Fans required to wear protective gear in the left field stands.
1) Daniel Nava’s First-at-Bat Grand Slam: The story with many stories, like Tolstoy.
Wake, Brother Drew, Sir Papelbon & that guy in headphones
First, it’s the eyes that go. Our 5th decade welcomes us this way. (ESPN The Magazine is forcing me, by the way, to finally go for an eye exam. Their preview pages make me read like Gov. Paterson with his pen, vetoing legislation and his nose an inch from the page.)
Then later it’s the ears, but with much more irreparable damage. When Drew Brees held his son while confetti fell after the Super Bowl, we took note of the headphones. Important protection in a large stadium. A smart move, too, when you are at Fenway 70 to 80 games a year. It’s hard not to notice the fan with headphones behind homeplate. Last night, with two outs in the 9th, there were more fans who might have needed them. On their feet, they cheered for the efficient, diverse save by Sir Papelbon and I was happy to see and hear some noise at Fenway.
Earlier in the week, the empty seats were pissing me off. How many fans regret leaving in the 6th inning of Game 6 against the Rays in 2008, where optimism was rewarded with one of the greatest comebacks by the Sox.Game winning hit? Brother Drew. As was the case last night. I know, Daniel-not-so-hot-as-lava -lately-Nava hit that blooper for the game winner. But Drew’s beautiful swing sent shots monster-wise.Something, though, for Navav that ought to help him spew some heat again.
But back to fandom and its requirements. Why can’t people stay until the end of the game? I know I know. Plenty of real reasons. But lately it’s more noticeable. Last night was different. And Sir Pap was the pitcher Professor Benjiman wrote about on May 14, using an 82 mph slider contrasted with 96 on the fastball. Really quite perfect.
Perfect and quick, Wakefully. For the shortest game time since 2002, Tim Wakefield knuckled more strikes than he has all season and won at Fenway since the start before I saw him on July 3, 2009, exactly one year ago. Must I remind us again of how Pap threw a great 9th to hold the tie and then Ramon gave up two runs in the 10th? I shouldn’t mention it again. It was just that Ramon ruined the real positive mood from the day before(see yesterday’s entry). Hey, it’s a team effort Sorry Ramon.
Cheers to Wake and the grip that makes age meaningless.
Right of the Pesky Pole: Notes
Lady Gaga & Brother Drew?
Saribel, our Red Sox fan Forever in Florida, told me that Gaga’s “Bad Romance” was playing after the home run? Gaga and JD? . . .nah . . .
Sir Pap?
99 out of 100 people surveyed say they would never call Pap, “Sir Pap.” Just think of him in goggles doing his drunken Irish dance in bike shorts. “What a wacko,” commented that idiot announcer from Fox(I have erased his name from memory ever since. He is the same dope who openly insulted Stephen King while interviewing King in the stands during the 07 playoffs.) Anyway, you’ve heard all the other insults lobbed at Pap. I remain true to my word. He is our closer. And we should sign that big contract, let’s say 4 years? Look at how few closers actually close and save games on a regular basis. He’s 3rd in the AL.
. .
The Bard of Boston
By now you may have guessed I have a strange fascination with middle relief. For example, the odd journey of Cla Meredith is one I’ve followed for several years. Besides his infamous one-third of an inning at Fenway in 2005, when he closed the season with 27.00 ERA, he was sent to the Padres to bring Mirabelli back to catch knuckleballs for Wake. You remember. Then he returned to Fenway in April and threw his first career save when the O’s beat us 7-6. Now he is in the minors pitching for Norfolk. That’s after several seasons with the Padres and O’s, as a middle reliever. This might be the story of the Sox bullpen and the multiple roster moves. Boof, Country Joe Nelson, Scott Atch, now Dustin Richadrson. Wakefield was in the mix, too, for middle relief. Last night we had four pitchers before reaching Papelbon’s save. Bard threw one-third of an inning, With two relievers in the high 90s, I am confident about the second half of the season. Oki still stirs our anxieties. When breaking balls don’t drop, they fly into the seats. Somewhere in there, underneath the hood of the pen is the right combination. As suggested today by the Sox, we might have to make a few moves. In my limited fan’s view, a reliable pattern of relievers seems to work. Otherwise our journey to a win is somewhat like searching for Oz
Earthquakes and a Win
1989, San Francisco: I was about to pick up the phone to call my brother back east, to see if he was tuning into Game 1 of the Bay series. I felt a rumbling in the floor like a large truck was going by, close by. Then I saw the windows outside my 6th floor studio, the ones in the building across the street facing the sun start to ripple.Luckily I was standing in a doorway, exactly where one is supposed to stand in an earthquake. A tear went through my wall and the floor swayed in the same way it feels standing in a small boat on a rough ocean. After 15 seconds, it stopped. I was lucky. The city was lucky.
Despite all the damage, there were fewer casualties than were estimated on the first night. What saved many people was baseball. I am not trying to be too sentimental about our game. This was literally true. Since thousands of people in the Bay Area had left work early to get to the game, which had a 5:00 start to sync with east coast TV, those fans were not on the Bay Bridge or the Golden Gate or on their normal commuting routes. Candlestick Park turned out to be a safe haven. As Joe Dimaggio was helped, along with many others, out of his tumbling Marina home, the city showed incredible commitment to others, a real sense of pride for a beautiful city.
It is hard for me to separate San Francisco from that memory, even when I tune in to watch the Sox play in a brand new park, Professor Abraham’s favorite outside of Fenway. But it also gives me optimism in light of Dustin’s injury, which is the hardest one to swallow of this whole season. I have hope that he and the Sox will pull through. Some great plays yesterday are clear examples of our resilience.
Cameroning On: As I have written here before, watching Mike Cameron play center in Spring Training was illuminating. Every hit ball that I thought would drop he charged and caught with great ease. Yesterday’s catch was spectacular. When he rose from the dust. . . .a clear metaphor doesn’t need explanation.
Relief: As a second stage of agida started yesterday watching Clay pull up running to second, I wanted to blame MLB for interleague play and promise not to watch or buy tickets for another cross pollinating game. But please, Clay, do some more jogging before the game. You don’t need to follow Tim Wakefield’s example of tough base-running. He can get away with that. Anyway, the relief troops proved themselves finally. I also like the looks of 2006 5th round pick Dustin Richardson. Of course, Atchison was terrific, too. My thoughts on the whole pitcher pinch hitting thing: stupid. Keep our pitchers off the basepaths and let them drop sac bunts, even when no one else is on.
Papelbonus: A great close for Pap. I repeat, he is our closer. No doubts about that from this trolley’s view. But Pap, do you have to say things like “it had nothing to do with the team”??? It always has something to do with the damn team.
All In: This is a team effort, let by Tito. Since I was lucky with a few bets this week, I am putting all chips in for Lester, and everyone behind him.
GO SOX!
photo by Thomasox
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