Dear Red Sox:

Dear Red Sox:

You put up a good fight. What other team could have made it this far with a mostly Double-A lineup and season-ending injuries to a third of their Opening Day Lineup? You never gave up, even when *some* fans gave up on you.

I'm already giving in to the temptation to look back on the season and say "what if?" What if Jacoby Ellsbury had called off Adrian Beltre back in April? What if Josh Beckett had been A-OK from the start, and hadn't spent most of the year in limbo on the DL and the rest figuring out his shit? What if Dustin Pedroia had swung and missed at that infamous foul-tip? What if Kevin Youkilis hadn't broken his thumb?

We haven't had to say this in a while, but I guess we'll wait 'til next year. You've spoiled us, Red Sox... since 2003, we've had the excitement and joy of Soxtober six-out-of seven years. Of those six years, you've gone all the way twice - can you believe it?

I'm trying so hard to move on from this lost season, but it's so difficult to accept that there will be no miraculous comebacks, and no reasons for champagne at Fenway this autumn. The division was there for the taking, if you could all have stayed away from your freak accidents... What are your offseason habits, breaking mirrors and walking your black cats under ladders placed on the foul lines?

I don't blame you, dear Red Sox, but it would have been easier if you had lost out to the spectacular teams that Tampa Bay and New York were slated to be, but the fact is that they were both beatable. Tampa Bay has been scarred by injuries (albeit less severe than your own) and a balky bullpen, while New York has had a singular sure thing in its rotation all season (Sabathia) while the rest of the starters struggled with fatigue, age, or inconsistency.

I mean, Derek Jeter is having his worst season ever, and the words "Past a diving Jeter" are now even more commonplace in Yankee broadcasts.

Perhaps the most frustrating is the way you've performed against the "bad" teams. Splitting the season series with Baltimore is just not going to cut it - we're blaming your losses on the minor-league lineup you've dealt with, but the likes of Baltimore, Kansas City, and Cleveland play with those caliber lineups all year round, and you couldn't seem to beat them.

I guess I'm writing you this letter as more of a cathartic exercise for myself than anything else... there's a week left in the season, and you're stuck playing spoiler while I'm stuck watching you. Even when you disappoint me, I just can't quit you, Red Sox. I think you're my one true love, and I'll defend you to the death from my fellow students who just "rediscovered" their Yankee fandom, and from those few who have realized that the Rays are actually good.

You haven't made it easy to love you, but I don't mind showing my loyalty by giving anecdotal evidence of the wonderful games and team dynamic you've had this year, not to mention the grit and determination you've shown to keep things interesting right down to the wire.

The Martinez/Beltre dynamic has been particularly enjoyable... I hope we get to keep them.

I'll be watching you until the end, and I'll follow you throughout the offseason, wearing my Red Sox attire and hoping for your members to heal while Theo finds you some great new pieces.

Until we meet again in Fort Meyers, Red Sox, I remain faithfully yours,

Kayla Chadwick

I miss you, Pedro!

I'm taking Spanish this semester, in hopes of both fulfilling Trinity's requirement and obtaining some sort of mastery of the language. Tonight's assignment was to choose a famous person of Hispanic heritage and write about them en español. Our choices ranged from Shakira to Antonio Banderas, or we could choose our own.

Shockingly, I chose my own...

I don't think it's any surprise that I chose to write about Pedro Martinez. In this time of darkness (the 2010 Parade of Carnage), it's nice to reflect upon the good old days when the Red Sox were on top and Pedro was king.

Of course, these two things were simultaneously true for just a few months: the Sox won it all in October, 2004, and Pedro would sign with the Mets that same December, but DAMN did it feel good while it lasted.

Pedro was the best pitcher in baseball for a number of years leading up to 2004, including a 1999 season that MLBNetwork has dubbed the best single-season performance by a pitcher in the history of the game. Unfortunately for me, I was nine years old at the time, and so on the rare occasion that I had control of the television for baseball, I did not appreciate the historic nature of Pedro's utter dominance.

Pedro's performance at the 1999 All-Star Game was one for the ages.

The speculation that Pedro Martinez felt slighted by the Sox' acquisition of Curt Schilling has been brought up before, but there's no way that team was winning without both of them on the roster (neither of them, by the way, were fathered by the Yankees, despite the unoriginal and obnoxious chants that follow Pedro to the Bronx). It is interesting to note that statistically speaking, Pedro Martinez's most similar player is Curt Schilling, according to baseball-reference.com (that is a better argument for Schill's HoF eligibility than any obscure statistic, in my opinion).

But even beyond the dazzling numbers and dominating performances, Pedro was a character, delivering memorable one-liners like "One of these days Buckner's gonna catch that grounder," proving that he was as indoctrinated as the rest of us in RSN, and sick and tired of that damned replay.

My personal favorite Pedro quote has to be from 2001, when he seemingly grew tired of answering questions about a certain slugger of yesteryear: "I don't believe in damn curses," he said. "Wake up the damn Bambino and have him face me. Maybe I'll drill him in the ass." This would have been comical if it were possible... Just imagine the undersized Pedro hitting the Babe, then trying to defend himself from the Bambino's superior bulk when the fiery Ruth charged the mound.

Of course, the best images of Pedro are those that show his character, both on the mound and in the dugout:

This might be my favorite Pedro picture. Being at Opening Day (Night?) this year and seeing him embrace Johnny Pesky was amazing. I'll admit to tearing up.

Obviously, Pedro Martinez meant a lot to hundreds of thousands of people. He was one of the only great players on some teams full of scrubs for a few years in the late-90's; he was proof (before Dustin Pedroia) that the short guy can succeed; he was fun-loving and competitive. Pedro Martinez was always dynamic and dominating... I don't know about you, but this year I miss him more than ever.



P.S. Don't forget Pedro's "lucky charm:"

"My friend is Nelson. His name is Nelson. He's 36 years old. He's from the Dominican Republic and very funny character, and very animated. Everybody's happy with him. He's our lucky charm now. Now a days. The guys are falling in love with him."

Book review: Theology

I won't be heading to Fenway Park this evening after all. My roommate broke her ankle yesterday due to a rugby accident, and so we will not be seeing Daisuke Matsuzaka nibble around the strikezone and get pulled before the sixth inning. Sad.

Instead, we gave the tickets to her cousin for the girl's birthday - here's hoping she gets to see a win!

Now, since I have nothing to say about the Red Sox today that can't be summed up with "Dear God, why!?", I've decided to start a series of posts reviewing the baseball books I so avidly devour, both during the summer, and over the offseason (which is looming closer by the day). Full disclosure: I was inspired in this endeavor by this article on the Boston Globe's website. It was less than I expected, presenting a list instead of the synopses the texts deserved.

So without further ado, hopefully the first in a series of reviews, a look at John Frascella's Theology: How a Boy Wonder Led the Red Sox to the Promised Land.


I have to say, I was sadly disappointed in the book. I know Theo Epstein is a notoriously private person, but I was hoping for more insight then I could get from a Wikipedia page.

There were literally no quotations or insights that I hadn't already read in the Boston Globe or Herald, and the book read more like a high schooler's rendition of a biography than a professional's. There were several typographical errors in my copy, which any editor should have caught, and it just made the whole thing seem even more like the project of a fan rather than an actual book.

I'm sorry to say I would not recommend this book to anyone but the most casual of fans; if you're anything close to die hard (as I assume my readers are), you already know that Theo has a small son, that he and Larry Lucchino aren't exactly bosom buddies, and the gorilla suit angle has been beaten to death.


Read the Wikipedia page instead: it's better written, and it's free.