St. Francis Prep, CliffsNotes, and MLB's Hall of Fame

Imagine it is 1999 and you are in St. Francis Prep preparing for one of Mr. Goodwin or Mr. Claro’s infamous English exams.

This semester, Claro plans to test you on The Great Gatsby, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, and A Catcher in the Rye.

You have always been a good English student so you prepare for these exams as you normally would: you read each novel thoroughly, take extensive notes, and study your notes before each test. 

As usual, your hard work leads to good grades.  However, you notice that your peers are scoring similar grades to you with far less effort.  Even notoriously poor students have become English experts.

Suddenly, a dummy who struggles to turn on a light is explaining Gatsby’s green light.

You sense something is amiss and one day your suspicions are confirmed.  Yellow books known as CliffsNotes have infiltrated the school, from west top to east bottom, and revolutionized the way your classmates are studying.

Some students are using CliffsNotes in lieu of reading a book, some students are using them in adjunction to reading the book, and some students did not use them at all.

Usage also varied in frequency.

Some students used them with every book, some students used them with some of the books, and some students never used them with any books.

CliffsNotes became part of Prep's culture.

Poor students utilized CliffsNotes to narrow the gap between their superior peers.   Once relieved to avoid summer school, these students were now filling up honors classes.  Their parents were never more proud.

The increased GPA’s of their unintelligent contemporaries forced honors students into moral dilemmas.  “If I know that I am one of the best English student in SFP without CliffsNotes, do I let some Joe Schmo (or Stro? or Fro? #nodiss) take away my spot in an honors class when the entire student body knows that I am the smartest English student here?”

Suddenly, the honors students began using CliffsNotes too.

Elite before using CliffsNotes, by simply leveling the playing field, these students were attaining never-before-seen heights in the English department.  Prep cashed in on the wave of excitement generated by these extraordinary students, raising tuition nearly double in ten years.

Prep never knew for sure which students used CliffsNotes and which students did not.  More importantly, they did not care.

Increased class participation added value to class discussions that may have otherwise not existed.  The improved English grades made Prep look spectacular.

But slowly, the excitement of the “CliffsNotes Era”—as later deemed by future writers of the Seraph— began to die down.

A decade passes and Prep concludes that there is a CliffsNotes problem on its premises.  They enforce definitive rules prohibiting CliffsNotes while imposing penalties against any student who uses them from this point forward.

This would be a noble effort by Prep’s hierarchy; however, its bearing on students who used CliffsNotes prior to this legal language should be nonexistent.

Were the accomplishments of students who learned during the “CliffsNotes Era” legitimate?  Of course! Their grades still count.  Their diplomas are still valid.

Prep’s administration cannot justify erasing an entire era of student accomplishments out of embarrassment that their employees dragged their heels when confronting the issue.  It is disingenuous at best.  It’s not like Mr. Williams is being asked to give back his 1999 salary.

Had Prep’s concerns about CliffsNotes usage been legitimate, they would have made a better effort to rid the school of them as their prevalence increased.

For years, Channel One ignored the ‘CliffsNotes Era’; now, every day, a new reporter hops aboard his or her moral high horse to diminish what SFP’s students once accomplished.

Never mind the fact that Wikipedia estimates that 2/3 of students as early as 1900 were academically cheating in some fashion or another. For Prep to assume that students from these eras would not have used CliffsNotes had they been available at that time is laughable.

As such, the valedictorian of the Class of 2002 needs no asterisk.  He or she should take her rightful place amongst the great graduates in St. Francis Prep history, no questions asked.  Their legacy should remain unquestioned, their greatness undisputed.

Future generations of Terriers deserve as much.


Nick Xouris’s 2014 HOF Ballot:
Jeff Bagwell, Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Mike Piazza, Curt Schilling,
Tim Raines, Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, Frank Thomas, Greg Maddux

2013 MLB Awards

The announcement of yesterday's Rookies of the Year reminded me that I forgot to put these out:

NL Rookie of the Year – Jose Fernandez, Miami Marlins

If the award was based on cranky old baseball men speaking out against exuberance and emotion, Yasiel Puig wins in a landslide.  But based on performance, Puig’s fellow Cuban-refugee, Fernandez, was the NL’s best rookie.  At 20 years old, Fernandez pitched to a 2.19 ERA, striking out 187 batters in 172 2/3 innings.  20 year olds are usually navigating through UCLA’s lineup; not dominating the best professionals in the world.   Fernandez had an amazing season, one that deserves even more credit than it is being given.

AL Rookie of the Year – Wil Myers, Tampa Bay Rays

On the heels of a season that produced Mike Trout and Yoenis Cespedes—as well as Yu Darvish, Wei-Yin Chen, and Jarrod Parker—the 2013 American League produced an underwhelming rookie class.  Myers wins the award by default, batting .293/.354/.478 in just 88 games.  His victory demonstrates the extent that timing influences a ROY race.  Had any of 2012’s top five vote-getters been eligible in 2013, Myers would be trophy-less.  

NL Cy Young Award – Clayton Kershaw

Not much to see here.  A healthy Matt Harvey, or a Fernandez without an innings limit, tightens the race.  Alas, Kershaw is the clear favorite. 

AL Cy Young – Yu Darvish

Few races possess a margin this slim between this many players.  Four candidates—Darvish, Hisashi Iwakuma, Max Scherzer, and Felix Hernandez—own credible claims to the award.  If Anibal Sanchez had pitched more innings, he, too, would be in the discussion.  My vote goes to Darvish.  Darvish struck out 277 batters in 209 innings, boasting a ridiculous 32.9 K%.  He struck out one out of every three batters he faced!  Darvish’s 2.83 ERA trails only Iwakuma, out pitchers who exceeded the 200-IP mark. 

NL MVP – Andrew McCutchen

Of all the awards, I feel least confident about this selection.  In some ways, it’s a poor man’s Cabrera-Trout debate—the corner infield slugger vs. the all-around centerfielder.  However, the NL race is muddier because Goldschmidt isn’t the hitter Cabrera is and McCutchen isn’t the player that Trout is.  I’m sure that I could be talked into Goldschmidt—but for now, McCutchen’s overall game-.317/.404/.508 with stellar defense in a premier position—wins my vote.

AL MVP – Mike Trout

For the second straight year, Mike Trout is my American League MVP.  In what’s becoming an Ali-Frazier rivalry of sorts, Trout narrowly beats out Cabrera in a race much closer than last year’s.  Cabrera posted the best season in his HOF career with a stupid .348/.442/.636 line.  He is the best hitter in the world right now.  But hitting is only one facet of a player’s value.  While comparable at the plate—Trout himself posted a .323/.432/.557 line in 48 more plate appearances—Trout blows Cabrera out of the planet defensively and on the bases.  Anyone who dismisses the influence that defense and baserunning have on wins and losses, needs only to watch Cabrera’s dismal performance in each facet against the Red Sox in the ALCS. 

A-Rod's 600th

Quick question: Which baseball player do you hate the most?

Whether you are a Red Sox fan, Mets fan, or you hate baseball and only know players who frequent TMZ, your answer is likely Alex Rodriguez. Hell, many Yankee fans will agree with you.

It is fascinating how one player can alienate so many sports fans. Even Barry Bonds, at the very least, had the undying support of Giants fans. A-Rod gets no such love.

Yet, here A-Rod is today, having smashed the 600th home run of his career. And he keeps plugging along.

Once upon a time, they said he wasn’t built for New York. Believers in clutch ability claimed he wasn’t clutch. When he’d hit a walk off home run, they’d say it was only April. When he’d get a big hit down the stretch, they’d say it wasn’t against the Red Sox. When he’d get a big hit off Papelbon, they’d say it wasn’t the playoffs. When he had a big ALDS, they’d say it wasn’t the ALCS. And so on and so on.

Rodriguez endured more criticism, both of the warranted and unwarranted variety, than any other baseball player of recent memory. He would have been completely justified to leave New York when he opted out of his contract in 2007. He could have taken the easy way out and reached his home run milestones under far less scrutiny in a much smaller market. And he could have done so without having to pretend to still like Derek Jeter.

Instead, he persevered. He wanted to stay a Yankee because his legacy was at stake if he chose otherwise.

And then he won.

Today, we live in an era where the best basketball player alive cowardly sidestepped any challenges, saying “To hell with my legacy. I’m taking my talents to South Beach”.

I don’t think enough has been made of Rodriguez’s contrast: the best baseball player in the world chose to take on New York and achieve his individual and team goals under the spotlight of the world’s biggest stage. If we are to ostracize Lebron, it's only right to commend A-Rod.

Rodriguez did not run when the going got tough. And his tough was way worse than Lebron’s. (Though, in fairness, I don’t believe Robinson Cano ever slept with A-Rod’s mother.)

Rodriguez has proved that he is built for New York as much as Lebron has proved (or confirmed to those like me who knew this much already) otherwise.

Congrats to Alex Rodriguez for hitting his 600th home run.

Now here’s to hoping #601 never comes.

Ortiz, Ramirez Latest Victims of MLB's Leaky Faucet

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Another day, another name revealed. David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez, the potent 1-2 punch from the 2003-2008 Boston Red Sox, are the latest drips from MLB’s leaky faucet: the infamous 2003 anonymous drug test. Excuse me, while I yawn.

Only Brett Favre comeback stories are more repetitive and less interesting than baseball’s steroids saga. Haven't we been down this road enough times already?

The script certainly hasn’t changed: Star player gets exposed. Star player issues awkward PR-manufactured denial. Media feigns shock and outrage. Fans get upset. Fans and media jointly anoint new “clean savior of sport”. Time passes and “clean savior of sport” is exposed. Repeat from start. Enough already, who cares?

Amazingly, four and a half years have passed since 2005’s infamous Congressional hearing on steroids in baseball. Countless stars have been revealed yet somehow steroid use is still making headlines. So what have we learned, if anything, since the day Mark McGwire refused to talk about the past?

A) Lots of great baseball players used steroids.
From 1995 to 2005, 14 of the 22 MVP awards were won by players once linked to steroids. Roger Clemens monopolized the Cy Young Award. You’d be hard-pressed to find a star player who has avoided any whispers. Name your favorite team’s three best players from this era. Each has likely used performance enhancers at one point.

B) Lots of terrible baseball players used steroids.
The most forgotten aspect of the steroid era is the large number of losers who have been divulged as steroid users. Jeremy Giambi, Larry Bigbie, Jason Christensen, Matt Franco, Cody McKay…the list continues for days. Take one look at the list of players named in the Mitchell Report and it is obvious that steroid use was not exclusive to the game’s greats.

Now given the fact that steroids are portrayed as miracle drugs that chemically created the careers of our generation’s superstars, it is interesting to note that these less-talented players did not ream the same benefits. Were their drugs bad? Or could the effects of steroids possibly be overstated? If the stars were still stars and the scrubs were still scrubs, maybe the playing field was more level than we were led to believe after all.

C) We have no way of knowing who used, who didn’t use, and what effect it had.
Power hitters juiced. Contact hitters juiced. Speedy Outfielders juiced. Slap hitting middle-infielders juiced. Strikeout pitchers juiced. Control pitchers juiced. Starting pitchers juiced. Middle relievers juiced. Closers juiced. Stars juiced. Scrubs juiced.

Minor leaguers juiced. College players juiced. High school players juiced. Big guys juiced. Small guys juiced. Players who got bigger juiced. Players with no apparent change in physical-appearance juiced. White players juiced. Black players juiced. Hispanic Players juiced. Fan-favorites juiced. Hated rivals juiced. Winners juiced. Losers juiced. Good guys juiced. Bad guys juiced.

One of the biggest misconceptions of the era is that we can intuitively distinguish a steroid user. We cannot. Steroid users are impossible to typecast. The drugs were used by players of all shapes and sizes for all different purposes: speed, power, recovery, health, etc.

For every obvious Mark McGwire, there are twice as many less obvious Andy Pettittes. We will never fully know who used and who didn’t. Worrying about it is senseless.

But if there is any good that comes of each exposal, it is that fans are beginning to realize how commonplace performance enhancing drug use was.

When steroid discussions first came in vogue, most fans were outraged. I was among a minority who did not care. Today, my indifference is shared by many baseball fans. If anything, we’re making progress.

No matter whom the next superstar revealed is, my reaction will remain unchanged. I haven’t cared about steroid use in baseball from the start and I will not begin now. But for those that do? Be prepared, because the faucet isn’t getting fixed anytime soon.

Drip.



Drip.



Drip.



And a quick addendum-

1) Baseball writers need to quit trying to make up for their own negligence with their over-the-top stands against the great players of this generation.

Each time that a new star is exposed, guys like Bill Plaschke, Mike Lupica, and Jay Marriotti jump on their moral high horse in some ridiculous outrage. Enough already. You guys did not care enough about steroids to report on it while it was happening; stop pretending to care now.

There is no excuse to keep extraordinary players like McGwire, Bonds, Sosa, and Clemens out of the Hall of Fame. Please stop trying to rewrite history.

2) If you are a Red Sox fan who believed that no prominent Red Sox had ever used steroids, shame on you. Hopefully, you got your A-Roid jokes in while you had the chance. For those of you, 2004 and 2007 will become tainted.

For me, Big Papi is the same man today that he was yesterday; a remarkable entertainer who provided me with some of my greatest memories as a baseball fan. Nothing will ever change that or retroactively diminish his personal accomplishments or his teams’ accomplishments. Nothing.

Here’s one more salute to the greatest clutch hitter in Red Sox history. There was never a more fitting home run than Ortiz’s game winning bomb this afternoon.

The Anatomy of the Entrance Song

Last month, my friend and I were discussing the importance of entrance music in boxing.

On the surface level, there isn’t a more insignificant aspect of a fight than the music blaring as a boxer steps into the squared circle; but at the same time, the entrance song is the last opportunity that a fighter has to make a statement before the moment of truth between the ropes. If two unknowns are fighting, their entrance songs could help you decide who to root for.

So what makes a great entrance song? There are a number of elements that fighters need to consider in selecting the proper song.

Style of Song
Not all genres work here. Hip hop is a safe bet and salsa music for Latino fighters always works. But R&B, Pop, and Rock require some discretion. If you are going to pick a song from one of these genres, you better have a good explanation why. For example, I love The Hills; but it really wouldn’t work to enter the ring to “Unwritten."

Mainstream Recognition
I am a big Joe Budden fan. I love Slaughterhouse. But the truth is, most people in an arena will not. No matter how much you like a song, you need to pick a song that has a certain level of mainstream popularity. The crowd should be feeling it.

Uniqueness
This past January, Shane Mosley resurrected his career with a dominant victory over Antonio Margarito to recapture his spot as the best welterweight in the world.

While most post-fight conversations broached upon Margarito’s illegal hand wraps or Mosley’s return to the sport’s elite, one aspect went unnoticed. Mosley entered the ring to “Live Your Life” by Rihanna & T.I.—which would have been a solid choice had Paulie Malignaggi not used it one month earlier in his loss to Ricky Hatton. Boxers on big HBO shows can not be using songs that were just used on big shows. It just doesn’t look right.

Time Sensitivity
Not as important as the other characteristics but it belongs on the list. Your song must either: A) be recent enough to elicit an immediate reaction from the crowd, B) fit the rest of the criteria so well that the song’s debut date is irrelevant, or C) have a good enough reason to warrant ignoring time sensitivity. For example, after Michael Jackson passed away, it was completely acceptable to enter the ring to ANY M.J. song as tribute.

And finally, the most important element…

How Well the Song Reflects You
The significance of the song must reflect the fighter’s persona. If you aren’t a brawler, you can’t come out to “What’s My Name” by DMX. If you aren’t flashy, don’t enter the ring to Fabolous’ “Diamonds on my Damn Chain." If you’re from Atlanta, no matter how big of a HOV fan you are, “Brooklyn We Go Hard” can not be your entrance music.

This is one of the most overlooked aspects of theme song selection. Fighters will choose a hot song without giving much thought to whether or not it applies to them. BIG MISTAKE!

Agree? Disagree? Share Your Thoughts!


As I was writing this, I started thinking about songs that the best current day boxers should come out to. Using my iTunes collection only, here’s what I got:

Zab Judah - “Brooklyn, We Go Hard”: Eh, only because Brooklyn doesn’t have anyone else right now.

Miguel Cotto - “100 Percent” by Big Pun: Cotto has surpassed Felix Trinidad as the biggest Puerto Rican draw in the sport so naturally I’d pick a Big Pun song for him. I’ll be honest; my computer isn’t heavy on Puerto Rican music so there might be a better choice out there, but “100%” can surely get the job done

"Sugar" Shane Mosley - “Amazing” by Kanye West: Mosley’s performance against Margarito truly was amazing. In his devastating upset, Mosley recaptured his status amongst the sport’s elite and solidified his already remarkable Hall-of-Fame caliber career. This song just feels right.

Manny Pacquiao - “Just Dance” by Lady Gaga: Pacman is the happiest killer that I’ve ever seen. Maybe I just love “Just Dance,” but I feel like this song would be perfect. The beat goes as hard as Manny’s left cross, and the song is as happy as Pacquaio is during his ring entrance. Boxing is party time for the pride of the Philippines and what better song is there to signify party time than “Just Dance”?

Floyd Mayweather Jr - “I Get Money” by 50 Cent: I was tempted to go with Maino’s second verse/T-Pain’s part from “All the Above” (On second thoughts, I think Paul Williams came out to “All the Above” against Winky Wright…That fits him actually) but “I Get Money” personifies Money May to a tee. I vaguely remember 50 saying in an interview once that he wrote “I Get Money” for Mayweather to use as entrance music. There isn’t a song in the world that is better suited for the best pound for pound fighter in the world.

No return like Nomar's

The 2000 World Series triggers all sorts of memories for New York baseball fans.

For Mets fans, it was a teasing taste of meaningful October baseball—a taste unfamiliar to those who cheer for the orange and blue. Though the Mets have had opportunities, the Amazins have been unable to make a return visit to the Fall Classic since losing to their inner-city rivals.

For Yankee fans, the Subway Series is the pinnacle and, though unbeknownst at the time, culmination of the Yankee Dynasty. Since then, success—and by success, I mean the Yankee definition of World Series championship or naught—has been absent from the Bronx.

For me, one memory of the 2000 World Series stands out—well, two, if you count the Roger Clemens-Mike Piazza fiasco. On October 22nd, I had friends over to watch Game 2 as part of some makeshift birthday party, i.e. an easy way to make a few extra bucks.

[Aside: The original birthday party was supposed to be to watch Stone Cold Steve Austin’s return against Rikishi at No Mercy on WWF PPV but because my friends are all Yankee and Mets fans, I was forced to call an audible]

Sure the Clemens-Piazza bat incident provided some laughs, but for me, the night reached its apex when I opened a birthday present from my parents.

That night, I got my first ever authentic jersey: A Boston Red Sox grey road uniform with “Garciaparra 5” stitched into the fabric. The jersey became one half of the only four outfits I wore over the next three years: Garciaparra jersey with black jeans, Garciaparra jersey with blue jeans, Garciaparra jersey with denim shorts, and Garciaparra jersey with khaki shorts.

So as my Yankee fan friends celebrated their team’s third consecutive World Series, I was celebrating the addition of a Nomar Garciaparra jersey to my wardrobe, while my team was not playing October baseball. The irony is certainly not lost on me.

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Garciaparra’s time spent with Boston was a juxtaposition of hope and disappointment, much like every Red Sox’ superstar before him.

Garciaparra burst upon the scene in 1997 as a breath of fresh air to an otherwise stagnant franchise. He was the once-in-a-lifetime homegrown potential superstar, the type that Red Sox fans had grown used to watching play elsewhere. His subsequent decline from baseball’s elite makes it easy to forget just how good he was during his prime.

Garciaparra transcended the sport and became an iconic, yet mythical figure in New England culture. He could do no wrong. He was a sure first-ballot Hall of Famer. He was the Red Sox’ answer to Derek Jeter. He was the best right-handed hitter since Joe DiMaggio. He was Ted Williams or Carl Yazstremski to this generation’s Red Sox fans. He was the only player who could make a run at batting .400. He was the best shortstop in baseball for a four-year period (1997-2000), his first four seasons in the league. He was “Nomahhh”.

But in reality what he was, was too much too soon.

For a fan base that seemed to grow exponentially desperate for a World Series by the second, an unwarranted burden was placed on #5’s shoulders. Eventually, the daily pressure to win a World Series and end “The Curse” became overwhelming for the laid back Californian.

At the 2004 trade deadline, after months of feuding with management and the media, a bitter Garciaparra was traded to the Chicago Cubs. The Red Sox went on to win the World Series. Most people believe that the Red Sox would have never won the World Series had Theo Epstein not dealt Garciaparra.

--------
Twelve years have passed since Nomar burst onto the scene as the 1997 American League Rookie of the Year.

Garciaparra is now a 36 year-old broken down part time infielder/DH with the Oakland Athletics on a one-year, $1 million contract. By comparison Alex Rodriguez and Derek Jeter his contemporaries in the American League’s shortstop triumvirate, are making $32 million and $20 million respectively. (Granted, neither A-Rod nor Jeter has Mia Hamm’s income to fall back on, but still.)

In Boston, the Red Sox have become baseball’s premier franchise on the field and in the front office. The Sox have won twenty-eight playoff games and two championships (MLB highs) since trading Nomar; twenty-three and two more than they won during his seven and a half years with the team.

Only Justin Timberlake and Britney Spears have had a more one-sided breakup.

If sports are a reflection of real life, Garciaparra’s career represents how quickly life passes you by. When Garciaparra first played for the Red Sox, I was not even a teenager yet. He was the last player I rooted for in that “little kid way”.

By the time he was traded, I was old enough to hold him responsible for the poor way in which he handled himself at the end of his Red Sox run. Today, I am grown enough to rationally reflect on Garciaparra’s tenure with the Sox. For me, Nomar came along at the perfect time.

But in reality, Nomar came along at precisely the wrong time.

If the Red Sox were bringing Garciaparra up through their system today, he’d have likely thrived in the new Happy-Go-Lucky Fenway Park. The negativity that consumed Nomar has vanished. Today, Jacoby Ellsbury and Dustin Pedroia can simply play baseball, while drunken college kids sing Sweet Caroline and do the wave in their pink and green Sox hats, oblivious to any on-field happenings.

The stability that Nomar brought to the franchise, along with the professionalism that he competed with, played an immense role in getting the Red Sox to this point.

So last night, as Nomar stood in the batter’s box milking every last second out of what is likely the last extended applause of his career, I legitimately felt bad for him. It was a sorry moment for a fallen-star, who in a perfect world would have been the most celebrated Boston World Series champion of all.

But as we know, the world is not perfect—it just keeps moving along. The sun rises and the sun sets. New players come and go, just as quickly as people in everyday life come and go.

And in a few weeks, Jed Lowrie will be back starting at shortstop, free of the Boston negativity, as part of a team looking for a third (post-Garciaparra) championship in six years, all while Nomar remains largely forgotten.

I’m sorry Nomar but I thank you Nomar.

Clueless Joe (Girardi) Stuck in a Box with Yankee Bullpen

Last night's 4-3 loss to the Boston Red Sox rests squarely on Joe Girardi's shoulders. Two words caused him to lose the game, neither of which are "Joba" or "Chamberlain".

The two words are conventional thinking.

Girardi managed last night's game the same way that 99.9% of managers and wanna-be managers would have: Push C.C. Sabathia to the limit, hoping to get 23 or 24 outs from him. When Sabathia tires, have Mariano Rivera ready to get the final 3 or 4 outs of the game.

His train of thought ironically required very little thought, resulting in a world-class failure for a man paid a lot of money to win baseball games.

When Girardi manages "by a formula", he becomes oblivious to any volatile external factors that influence a game's outcome. Baseball is the only sport where game context is ignored from decision making.

Teams constantly look to create a managerial blueprint to make late inning managing easier for the men in charge. "He's our 8th inning guy!," is the praise often placed upon a J.J. Putz or a Ryan Madson. (As a reliever, Chamberlain would likely hold the same status in Girardi's pen.)

The sole purpose of this is to shift the blame of failure from the manager to the players. If an 8th inning guy blows a game, the manager is exempt from blame because he 'followed the script'.

But could you ever imagine Tom Coughlin deciding before a game, "No matter what, with 5 minutes left in the 4th quarter, Eli Manning is throwing the ball down field to Steve Smith"? What if it's 2nd and 1? What if the opponent has a good pass defense? Shouldn't things like this matter?

To ignore the context of the game, in any sport, is irresponsible. Smart teams avoid managing themselves into a box.

Ask any Red Sox fan who their "8th inning guy" is and you might get five or six different answers. Is it Manny Delcarmen? Takashi Saito? Hideki Okajima? Justin Masterson? Ramon Ramirez? Daniel Bard? Each of these pitchers has gotten big outs in the big moment this season.

And that's the intrinsic beauty of the Red Sox bullpen: there is no 8th inning guy. Theo Esptein wants Terry Francona to make decisions best suited for each individual game during each game, not before them.

You need a strikeout? Go to Delcarmen. You need a ground ball? Bring in Masterson. A couple of tough lefties coming up? Hello Okajima. Managing by a predetermined formula, irrespective of a game's context would significantly reduce Francona's effectiveness as a manager.

Which brings us to last night's Red Sox-Yankees game.

After allowing the single to Nick Green, there is one pitcher in the Yankee bullpen who made sense to face Pedroia-Drew-Youkilis-Bay. With the game on the line, it's ridiculous to allow the Alfredo Aceves's of the world to lose them for you. Your best pitchers should be called upon to get your biggest outs, which is why Mariano Rivera should have been summoned to get Sabathia out of the jam.

Rivera is the best pitcher in the Yankee bullpen. Forget about the 9th inning. The game was on the line in the 8th with the heart of the Red Sox order coming up. Survive the Red Sox threat in the 8th inning with your best pitcher on the mound and worry about the 9th inning later. If Rivera loses the game, so be it. At least, the game was lost with your best pitcher on the mound.

With 6 outs remaining, wouldn't the Yankees have been better suited to have Rivera pitching to Pedroia-Drew-Youkilis-Bay instead of a tired Sabathia, Aceves, and Coke?

Most importantly, Rivera does not have to get all 6 outs. If Aceves and Coke are needed to get two or three outs, they would be much better suited facing David Ortiz, Jason Varitek, and Rocco Baldelli in the 9th than the heart of the order with men on base and Fenway Park rocking in the 8th.

But it's commonplace for baseball managers to stick to the script, a sport stuck badly in a "This is how things are done" frame of mind. Managers manage for the save (statistic) rather than the win. At least Rivera will be well-rested for tonight's 9th inning appearance with a 3-run lead against Omir Santos, Fernando Tatis, and Jeremy Reed.

Yesterday wasn't an example of why Joba should be in the bullpen; it was an example of why managers should start thinking outside the box.

The 2009 NBA Finals: A Dream Matchup Awaits

Three weeks ago, Sidney Crosby and Alex Ovechkin squared off in a classic seven-game series that Gary Bettman could have only dreamt about before the playoffs.

The NHL’s two best players brought much-needed mainstream attention to the sport, highlighting what has been an excellent season for the league.

The only thing missing was higher stakes, as Bettman surely would have preferred the series to have taken place in the Stanley Cup Finals. But for now, as each player skates in the Eastern Conference, Bettman’s desire for Crosby and Ovechkin to compete against one another for a championship remains an impossibility.

For David Stern, on the other hand, this wish is becoming reality.

As the NBA’s Conference Finals approach their respective conclusions, a variety of enticing NBA Finals remain in play. Any mix-and-match among the remaining teams’ stars produces a marketable matchup that any true basketball fan can enjoy.

If you’re interested in a contrast of playing styles, a Denver-Orlando battle includes the best pure scorer in the NBA, Carmelo Anthony, against the game’s best young big man, Dwight Howard.

It might not be the series you’d select with your first choice, but after getting over the initial disappointment, fans would be delighted by the quality of play provided by these two teams.
Denver-Orlando is a solid ‘consolation prize’ for NBA fans.

Or, how about witnessing the first playoff series between Anthony and Lebron James, the same two players who were expected to recreate the Magic Johnson-Larry Bird rivalry upon their selections from the same 2003 draft class?

Sure, fellow Class of ’03 graduate Dwyane Wade beat ‘Melo and Lebron to the punch by winning the 2006 Championship, but he did so without getting past Melo or Lebron (as well as with the help of Shaquille O’Neal).

A Denver-Cleveland Finals would be the first playoff series pitting two of the three young stars against one another, potentially sparking a decade of Sugar Ray Leonard/Marvin Hagler/Tommy Hearns-like playoff series' amongst the trio. For what’s left in Kobe Bryant’s prime, he can play Roberto Duran in the analogy.

But there’s only one encounter that can approximate the NBA’s edition of Crosby-Ovechkin.
Each of the previous series remains second-fiddle to the one fans have been waiting for since 2005—the two best scorers in the country finally getting a chance to go head-to-head for all the marbles.

On one side is the explosive jump shooter with a propensity to score in bunches. On the other, is the bearded 6’9’’ scorer with the multi-faceted offensive game.

They are two men who have continually been compared to one another—by fans and the media alike—since their respective ascensions to the top. A showdown in the NBA Finals, five years in the making, would be a fitting culmination.

Which is why, with each team one win away from the NBA Championship, David Stern needs a Los Angeles Lakers-Orlando Magic NBA Finals. What better way to finally settle the Adam Morrison vs. J.J. Redick debate than a seven game series on the world’s greatest stage?



We have been deprived of this matchup for too long. Now is the time to finally make it happen!

Sure, both players choked in college, leaving the media and rural-America without the Duke-Gonzaga NCAA Championship Game that each so desperately longed for. But America is the home of redemption.

And nothing would scream ‘redemption for the coverage given to the two most hyped college basketball players of the decade’ more than watching Redick and Morrison cheer their NBA teammates to a championship, while actual NBA-talented players compete on the court.

Forget those puppet commercials; this would truly be amazing.

(What? You mean there’s a different series you expected me to pull for? Nah, couldn't be.)

The Birth of a...Dare I Say...Witness?!?

Greatness is truly rare. It is the rarity that makes the term so special.

I know this sounds obvious, but let it sink in for a second.

How easily do we toss a word like “great” around? Such an immense compliment should be reserved for only the most prestigious food, people, skills, accomplishments, etc, yet the word “great” gets used in description routinely.

Most of us will go a lifetime without being great at a single thing; I certainly will. I’m not knocking myself but being realistic. Anything I do well, a large portion of the world can do better.

The world is filled with many people who are extra ordinary and few who are extraordinary.

And this is what makes the extraordinary, remarkable.

It’s not easy for a “LeBron James-hater” to reflect on greatness one day after LeBron’s thrilling last-second winner against Orlando. But LeBron’s shot was symbolic of much more than a change in Game 2’s outcome. The Shot could usher in the King’s Era.

LeBron will undoubtedly monopolize the NBA Championship during his prime. I’m resigned to this fact. However, his surreal performance during the 2009 Playoffs has not only accelerated the process, but also eased the atrocity that I once associated with LeBron’s inevitable reign.

Don’t get me wrong. The man is still a clown; a New York City-Swagger Jacker from the Midwest in the truest sense of the phrase. And much of his game would be illegal by NFL standards—I’ve actually seen Justin Tuck get penalized 15 yards for throwing offensive linemen to the floor in emulation of what LeBron does on his way to the basket.

Plus, I’d be shocked if he hasn’t spent some time with Jose Canseco over the last few years. If he had Allen Iverson’s attitude, he’d have been sitting in front of Congress with Roger Clemens by now.

But if his buffoonery is what I must put up with in exchange for the exceptionally dominant performances by a once-in-a-lifetime talent, it is an exchange I may have to consider. I love sports too much to blindly dismiss what he is accomplishing. Best of all-time is actually in play here. Think about that: of all time.

So I ask… Am I a Witness?

I’ve tried not to be. I root for Carmelo. I root for Kobe. I take pride in finding pictures like this:

where LeBron looks like a genetically-jacked up combination of Barry Bonds, Tank Johnson, and Hulk Hogan, just six years after looking, er, normal.

But it is becoming clearer that those, like myself, uninterested in rejoicing in the LeBron era are simply wasting their energy. I have enjoyed going against the grain during LeBron’s ascension to the top of the sport, but I recognize that I am fighting a losing battle.

I came to a similar realization in 1998, when Michael Jordan eliminated the Reggie Miller-led Indiana Pacers that I was rooting for. I had been so sick of Jordan winning every season.

But following that series, I decided to stop hating, and finally appreciate the greatness that I was witnessing, albeit way too late (No pun intended).

But the sick part? Jordan was 34 years old, completing his final season. LeBron is 10 years younger (!), barely having reached his physical prime.

So again I ask…Am I a Witness?

Unfortunately, I think it’s safe to say that anyone paying attention to the NBA for the next 10 seasons has no choice but to be. The marketing campaign is right; we really are all witnesses.

But for now, I’ll be off hiding in Witness Protection as I wait for this reverse jinx to kick in.

I love this stadium baby but I can't see straight anymoreeeeee

About two years ago, my family moved into a new house.

I like the new house. It’s bigger, it’s nicer, and it’s in a better neighborhood. It’s an obvious upgrade in just about every physical way.

Friends of mine, who have been to both, would be hard-pressed to find even a single aspect of my new house that they liked better in the old one.

But after two years, there is an emotional attachment missing that I have been unable to develop.

Curious, I began thinking: What makes a house one’s home?

I pose this question one week after my first visit to the New Yankee Stadium. A ballpark so obnoxiously luxurious—there is an in-house butcher people!—but bereft of the qualities that made the old version so endearing to baseball fans. I loved the new place; but it just didn’t feel like Yankee Stadium.

And immediately, an analogy to my own home hit me.

Yes, objectively, the new place is better in every way. But it’s extremely difficult to overcome the memories I have of its predecessor.

I’ve witnessed too many classic games at the old stadium to replicate the same level of emotional investment with the new park—much like my feeling towards my two houses. It’s like a girlfriend. The longer you’ve spent with her, the harder the breakup is, and the more willing you might be to ‘stay friends’ with the next girl rather than delve into another relationship.

And even though I’m a Red Sox fan, last Monday I realized that I was more than just friends with the old Yankee Stadium. Shea Stadium and I? We were definitely just friends. Acquaintances even.

But that bitch from the Bronx?

Me and her had something. I’ll be honest. It’s sad to see her go. There was NOTHING like a big night game at Yankee Stadium. The bright lights, the electricity, the great New York City baseball crowd—everything about her was perfect.

Yea, she treated me like crap and kicked my ass more times than not, but I’ll miss that. In a masochistic way, it’s what made her special. I’ll never forget leaving her in tears on October 16, 2003, moments after Aaron Boone drilled a Tim Wakefield knuckleball into my section. I even promised I’d never visit her again after that.

But those heartbreaks and suicidal feelings are what made the triumphs so special. One of the greatest parts of the 2004 World Series run was that the Red Sox were able to overcome the ghosts that they succumbed to just twelve months earlier, on that same Yankee Stadium field. I’m convinced that that victory has had a major influence in the current role-reversal that this rivalry has taken.

And now, rather than the still frames of 55,000 lunatics singing New York, New York and taunting me as they celebrated Boone’s HR into the night while I remained crying in Main Box Section 30, Row G, my lasting memory of the old Yankee Stadium is a Red Sox’ right-fielder, J.D. Drew, winning the All-Star Game MVP. Whowouldathunkit?

There's a lesson in all of this somewhere. In order to appreciate the future, you must accept the past for what it is—the past. Memories are meant to be cherished and though they will never be replicated, you can not let nostalgia stand in the way of creating new memories. My new house IS my home. It is up to me to invigorate it as such.

And as the Yankees attempt to do the same with their new home, what will some of the initial memories of the $1.6 billion palace be?

How about Jason Bay hitting mammoth home runs and Jonathan Papelbon striking out Robinson Cano with bases loaded for the final out while I’m sipping a Johnny Rockets’ milkshake and chowing down a freshly-cut steak sandwich from the aforementioned in-house butcher, delivered to me by my section’s personal waiter.

You know what? On second thoughts, I think I can get used to this place after all.

Cadbury Creme Eggs and Ricky Hatton

When I was younger, there was a particular Cadbury Crème Egg commercial that aired around Easter time each year.

The premise was simple: The Cadbury bunny was the star of the holiday and every other animal was entrenched with envy. Naturally, each animal auditioned to become the Cadbury bunny. After adding a plastic set of bunny ears, every dog, cat, goat, bird, and pig tried to fool the audience into accepting them as the new Cadbury spokesman.

But when it is all said and done, what exactly is an animal with plastic bunny ears?

It is the exact same animal as it is without the bunny ears.

And Ricky Hatton, under the guise of a jabbing, defensive, Floyd Mayweather Sr.-trained prodigy, is the exact same Ricky Hatton he was in the past. The song didn't lie—there really is only one Ricky Hatton.

I was fooled by the bunny ears.

Result:
Manny Pacquiao KO Nick Xouris in six minutes and 59 seconds.

Look for the Hitman to Pull Off the Upset

Ricky Hatton has traveled this road before.

The Las Vegas megafight at MGM Grand, the 24/7 series, the bright lights of HBO PPV, the opponent universally regarded as the best pound-for-pound fighter in the world—the script for Saturday’s showdown with Manny Pacquiao is practically a replica of his fight against Floyd Mayweather Jr. in Dec. 2007.

The subtle differences between the two fights, however, will lead to one major difference: the outcome. Unlike 16 months ago, Hatton will leave Las Vegas victorious.

-----------

Hatton-Pacquiao has become a tale of unsubstantiated mainstream perception.

Hatton is considered a loser for being stopped by a brilliantly placed check hook—arguably the most perfectly-executed punch I have ever seen—by one of the most talented boxers who ever lived.

Pacquaio, on the other hand, has been deemed this generation’s Henry Armstrong, a warrior capable of defeating all-comers at any weight, after blowout victories over an uninspiring David Diaz at 135 pounds and a completely washed up Oscar De La Hoya at 147 pounds.

For Hatton, the perception could not be farther from the truth. Though I had him significantly behind on points, Hatton’s swarming style kept Mayweather—a much larger, more talented opponent—uncomfortable for a substantial portion of the fight.

Mayweather needed his “A Game” to finally put Hatton away, something Pretty Boy Floyd very rarely has to do. That is a testament to the competitor Hatton is. There is no shame in a junior welterweight losing to the best welterweight alive.

For Pacquiao, the perception could be the truth—there just isn’t sufficient enough evidence to be sure. Despite his last two victories, Pacquiao has still not proven that he can beat a heavier, stronger world class opponent.

De La Hoya was a shell of his former self and Diaz was a champion in the sense of the word that just about everyone in today’s era of multiple weight classes and sanctioning bodies is a champion—Hatton would have disposed of both fighters in similar fashion.

That’s not to say Pacquiao is some slouch. His performances in both fights were remarkable. But each of the questions posed before the De La Hoya fight remain unanswered: Can Pacquiao withstand a naturally bigger fighter’s power? Can Pacquiao hurt a fighter who is used to taking punches from heavier-handed opponents? The answer has yet to be seen.

Yes, Pacquiao is the best pound-for-pound fighter in the world. The outcome of his war with Hatton should have no bearing on that status (though Mayweather’s return to the ring will). But pound-for-pound rankings do not guarantee victory against any lesser ranked opponent at any weight. They simply measure a fighter’s ability relative to his size.

For example, Max Kellerman, formerly of ESPN Radio, deems Nate Robinson the best player in the NBA, inch-for-inch. This isn’t to say that Robinson is better than Tim Duncan or capable of beating Kobe Bryant one on one, but that in Kellerman’s opinion, Robinson is better relative to his height than other players are relative to their own.

The criteria for these mythical rankings is entirely subjective and in many ways meaningless. Pacquiao may be better pound-for-pound, but this does not make him a shoo-in to defeat Hatton. Mayweather’s ability to do so has no bearing on this fight.

This time around, Hatton is the bigger boxer at his optimal weight. When the bell rings, it is conceivable that Hatton will enter the ring anywhere from 150 to 160 pounds. Unlike against De La Hoya, where Manny actually entered the ring as the heavier fighter, on Saturday night, Pacquiao will be lucky to weigh within 10 pounds of Hatton.

And more importantly, Pacquiao’s “A Game” is not Mayweather’s. He does not possess Mayweather’s size, power, or defense—he will likely get hit with more flush shots in rounds one and two than Mayweather was hit with all night. His style is much more conducive to getting hit, precisely the type of opponent that Hatton can bully and work inside against.

At the junior-welterweight limit, Hatton has never lost a fight. The preceding sentence will remain true when this fight is over.

They say there’s only one Ricky Hatton. Saturday night, that one Ricky Hatton will have only one more victory.

Prediction: Hatton KO11

Does Anyone Want to Fight? Anyone?

After defeating Antonio Margarito two years ago, the big-money fights Paul Williams longed for should have followed. Such a high-magnitude victory usually translates into a winning lottery ticket, especially given the abundance of superstars who were making a living at 147 pounds. (Miguel Cotto, Shane Mosley, Floyd Mayweather Jr., etc)

But ironically, Williams’s performance had the inverse effect. One by one, boxing’s top welterweights explored every possible option other than stepping into the ring with “The Punisher”. His lottery ticket remained uncashed.
Author Poll Results

"You see a lot of other guys on TV, they say they're the best and they'll fight everybody and all this and that, but when it comes down to it, they won't fight anybody," said Williams. "It's gotten to the point where I don't want to call guys out anymore, because it's gotten to where, if I call them out, they don't want to fight."

It’s hard to blame anyone for thinking twice about fighting Williams. He is far from your traditional prizefighter.

Though he has chosen to bounce around weight classes in search of any opponent willing to fight him, Williams feels most comfortable at welterweight (147 lbs), a division where his wiry 6’1’’ frame gives him a distinct competitive advantage. The average welterweight ranges from 5’7’’-5’9’’. Margarito, considered a giant at welterweight, is just 5’11’’.

Not since Tommy Hearns has a great fighter possessed similar physical attributes—Williams likens a created player in Fight Night Four much more than a real human being. Did I mention he is a southpaw, with an awkward aggressive style unlike any in the sport?

Throw in the fact he combines the reach of a heavyweight (his 82-inch reach is longer than both Klitchko brothers) with the workrate of a lightweight (rounds of 100-plus punches are the norm), and it’s easy to see why “The Punisher” has stolen Margarito’s moniker of the “most feared man in boxing”.

So while boxers in three different weight classes take turns avoiding the South Carolinian, one fellow southpaw—who also knows a thing or two about being avoided—has finally stepped up to fight Williams.

Former junior middleweight champion Winky Wright will challenge Williams in a middleweight bout Saturday night on HBO World Championship Boxing. It will be Wright’s first in-ring action since a 2007 loss to Bernard Hopkins.

Wright sympathized with Williams’s struggle to find worthwhile opponents. "It's tough when nobody wants to fight you and you see all these other fighters getting fights," Wright told reporters recently. "You can't get the fight just because nobody wants to fight you. It ain't because you ain't good enough. It's just they don't want to fight you. So, you know, I know how Paul feels about being avoided."

Wright attributes his current 21-month layoff to a lack of opponents willing to risk looking bad against a fighter of his defensive prowess. Even those who defeat him, generally look boring or unimpressive when doing so.

As a result, Wright poses a much different threat than Williams.

On Saturday night, two of the sport’s most avoided fighters will demonstrate against each other, what type of threat that is.

Williams has been searching for the fight that will propel him to boxing superstardom. An impressive victory over Wright can do the trick.

But what if Williams gets too impressive and delivers the first knockout of Wright’s legendary career?

The most feared man in boxing will probably have to move up to heavyweight to find an opponent for his next fight.


Prediction

Paul Williams wins via 12-round split decision.

Williams simply has too much to lose. A victory over Wright brings him one step closer to becoming the superstar that he deserves to be—at which point, great fighters will be forced to fight him.

That said, Wright possesses an excruciatingly tough defensive style to look great against. I think he’ll keep Williams honest with his jab and win the fight on one scorecard but Williams’s activity and workrate will prevail in a very close fight.

2009 Predictions

AL East:
Boston
Tampa Bay*
New York
Toronto
Baltimore

Al Central:
Minnesota
Cleveland
Kansas City
Chicago
Detroit

AL West:
Oakland
Anaheim
Texas
Seattle

AL MVP:
Evan Longoria

AL Cy Young:
Francisco Liriano


NL East:
Atlanta
Philadelphia
New York
Florida
Washington

NL Central:
Milwaukee
Chicago
Cincinnati
St. Louis
Houston
Pittsburgh

NL West:
Los Angeles
Arizona*
Colorado
San Francisco
San Diego

NL MVP:
Albert Pujols

NL Cy Young:
Dan Haren


Division Series:
Boston over Minnesota in 4
Tampa Bay over Oakland in 3
Milwaukee over Los Angeles in 5
Arizona over Atlanta in 5

Championship Series:
Boston over Tampa Bay in 7
Arizona over Milwaukee in 6

World Series
Boston over Arizona in 5

Small is the New Tall

The 2009 MLB Season begins Sunday night. To celebrate, I am throwing away every pair of Timberland boots that I own.

Those extra two inches of height? Who needs them! 6-footers are so 2003. That's right. The days when being tall was cool are long gone.

As we exit the first decade of the 21st century, two of baseball’s brightest stars are ushering in the short guy era. It’s time to start celebrating being 5’9’’! (Ok, 5’7’’ & ¼, when I kick off the Nikes.)

Need proof?

Take a look at the cover stars of MLB ’09: The Show and MLB 2K9:

American League MVP Dustin Pedroia who is listed at 5’9’’—a height that must include the telephone book he was standing on—and National League Cy Young Tim Lincecum, a string-beany fireballer, who only reaches his listed height of 5’11’’ while standing on the rubber in his cleats.

Here are two of the league’s most marketable players—and each will get carded at an R-rated movie.

Neither player needs to show ID on the baseball field, however.

In 2008, Pedroia became the third player in MLB history to win Rookie of the Year and Most Valuable Player in consecutive seasons, joining Cal Ripken Jr. and Ryan Howard. He was the first second baseman to win the AL MVP since Nellie Fox of the White Sox in 1959.

Lincecum’s been similarly successful in his two seasons. In 2008, he became the first second-year pitcher to nab the Cy Young Award since Dwight Gooden and Bret Saberhagen in 1985. His delivery is often the subject of biomechanical analyses as scientists attempt to figure out how somebody his size can throw a baseball that hard.

Pedroia and Lincecum are throwbacks to a time when regular-sized men flourished, a pleasant contrast to the gargantuan freaks that dominated the sport during the late-90’s.

"I hear all the time that I'm not big enough, that I'm not fast enough, that I'm not strong enough, all of that stuff. Honestly, I don't see any difference between me and any other guy”, says Pedroia.

“If I could out-hustle the other guy or do the little things to help my team win, then it will make up for me being smaller than them. Being big has nothing to do with playing baseball.”

As for Lincecum, the star flamethrower acknowledges the impact his success can have on smaller pitchers.

“It gives everybody else out there who is not a big person the motivation and the inspiration that they know they can do it, too”, says Lincecum.

Right on, Timmy.

All aboard, short guys. The new era continues Sunday.

Until then? I’m going to enjoy these last 5 days with my Timberlands.

July 11th: HBO and The Return of Floyd Mayweather Jr.

A week ago, July 11th had little significance in the boxing world.

Sure, HBO was holding the date open for a World Championship Boxing (WCB) event, but the card was expected to be filled with a cruiserweight title match between Bernard Hopkins and IBF champion Tomasz Adamek. With little else on B-Hop's horizon, a jump to the 200-lb weight class presented the only worthwhile challenge left for the legendary light-heavyweight.

Not only did the fight make sense, but Hopkins-Adamek represented an ideal World Championship Boxing fight:
--The July date fit both fighters’ schedules. (Adamek last fought in February; Hopkins has been inactive since his October dismantling of Kelly Pavlik.)
--The fighters’ combined purse would likely be in range with an average WCB card’s budget.
--And most importantly, on paper, the fight fit the mold of competitive, entertaining encounters that HBO has strived to deliver its subscribers this year. HBO Sports executive Ross Greenburg promised fans that the network was going to demand competitive fights from promoters in 2009, and thus far, he’s done a tremendous job. Pay-per-view has no longer been an option for marginal fights.

Consider the first quarter of 2009:

In just three months, HBO has delivered two fight-of-the-year candidates (Berto-Collazo and Marquez-Diaz), along with a colossal PPV-worthy welterweight battle (Sugar Shane Mosley’s KO upset of Antonio Margarito) and a handful of top prospect showcases featuring future stars like Juan Manuel Lopez, Chris Arreola, Victor Ortiz, and James Kirkland.

Two more stellar fights—an April 11th main event featuring Paul Williams & Winky Wright and a welterweight unification bout between Miguel Cotto and Joshua Clottey in June—are also scheduled for HBO.

Fans are no longer being asked to shell out $59.95 each time a big name fighter enters the ring. The only fight currently scheduled for PPV is May 2nd’s junior-welterweight showdown between Manny Pacquiao and Ricky Hatton. It’s possible that the only positive to come from the state of the economy has been the market correction it has provided boxing. HBO has been forced to properly assess what belongs on its flagship boxing show.

Last year, fights that ought to have aired on World Championship Boxing (Pavlik-Hopkins, Calzaghe-Jones, Trinidad-Jones) were erroneously placed on PPV, leaving WCB cards barren of competitive fighting. What was the best WCB fight of 2008? Calzaghe-Hopkins? De La Hoya-Forbes? I can’t remember one that stood out. Remember WWF Superstars? Hulk Hogan would spend many Saturday mornings wrestling jobbers to get ready for his big match on PPV. World Championship Boxing had become WWF Superstars, a marketing tool for HBO’s PPV fights. Thankfully, the market correction has reversed this trend.

So all’s well in the boxing world, correct?

Enter Floyd Mayweather Jr.

Pretty Boy Floyd’s advisors have leaked that the former pound-for-pound king is ready to return to the ring for a summer tune-up fight, before challenging the winner of Pacquiao-Hatton in the fall. And the night that Mayweather finds most attractive? July 11th, World Championship Boxing’s open date.

Normally, the decision would be a no-brainer. Tell Hopkins and Adamek to take a hike, and let the premier fighter in the sport reestablish his place atop the pound-for-pound list as the whole world watches. However, Mayweather is looking for a PPV purse, for what could be an uncompetitive tune-up fight—precisely the type of fight that Greenburg has avoided in 2009.

Greenberg has a decision to make. If he signs Hopkins-Adamek for July 11th, boxing fans receive another excellent, intriguing fight, adding to an already impressive year. But he also risks alienating Mayweather, America’s greatest post-De La Hoya mainstream boxing star. HBO would hate to risk losing Mayweather’s future PPV business, as a cash cow against Pacquiao looms in the horizon.

Can Greenburg rationalize paying Mayweather over $5 million to familiarize himself with a boxing ring? If Mayweather intends to fight an uninspiring opponent, as been his MO at times, Greenburg risks alienating boxing fans who have been elated with the action that HBO has provided in ‘09. But if Pretty Boy Floyd’s opponent is somebody like Juan Manuel Marquez, then the answer becomes simple.

This is the avenue Greenburg must explore.

Mayweather has only been out of action for 15 months. How badly can a fighter of his age and skill need a tune-up? Winky Wright, who is five years older, is fighting Paul Williams after a longer layoff. Pony up whatever price it takes to bring Mayweather back against a skillful opponent and everyone will be satisfied. The decision will certainly pay off later in the year, after Mayweather and Pacquiao square off under the MGM Grand’s bright lights on HBO PPV.

The ball is in your court Mr. Greenburg. Make it happen.


EDIT: Minutes after I wrote this, Dan Rafael of ESPN.com announced that discussions for Hopkins-Adamek are off due to a tremendous discrepancy in both fighters’ purse demands. The decision for Greenberg is much easier now. Time to bring back Mayweather, this time REGARDLESS of who he wants to fight!

Is Curt Schilling a Hall of Famer?

Hall of Fame arguments usually annoy me.

Outdated benchmarks, subjective criteria, and baseball writers on moral high horses have turned Cooperstown into a circus. An entire generation of great baseball players—stars like Barry Bonds, Alex Rodriguez, Roger Clemens, Mark McGwire, Mike Piazza, and Sammy Sosa—are likely to be denied entrance in spite of their on-field achievements. Apparently, in this strange Hall of Fame universe, their accomplishments never occurred.

So of course, each time that a player of significance retires, the inevitable “Is he a Hall of Famer?” discussion follows. The same was true yesterday, when Curt Schilling announced his retirement from baseball after 20 seasons.

Assuming that Schilling stays true to his word—my gut still tells me that he’ll be pitching in Chicago or Tampa Bay this summer—he will be eligible for the Hall of Fame in 2013. (Schilling’s retirement is retroactive to 2007 because he was injured for all of 2008) 2013 is also the first year of HOF eligibility for Bonds, Clemens, Piazza, and Sosa, each of whom is heavily suspected of steroid use. Baseball writers will undoubtedly have a field day with this class.

So while I usually avoid the “Is he in or is he out?” arguments, Schilling’s case is far too fascinating to ignore.

Schill finished his career with 216 wins, 146 losses, 3116 strikeouts, a 3.46 ERA, and a 1.13 WHIP. He won 20 games three times; in 1997, he won 17 with the worst team in the National League. Among all pitchers with at least 1,500 innings, Schilling has the best strikeout-to-walk ratio. He struck out 300+ batters three times. In 2002, while striking out 316, Schilling walked just 32 hitters.

On the surface level, his career totals may not scream Cooperstown. However, the Hall of Fame criteria that today’s pitchers are evaluated against is nonsensical and outdated.

Writers have long assigned “magic numbers” for players to attain that reward longevity and perseverance, while ignoring dominance. The magic numbers are inherently flawed as they are based on the standards of a previous era—one in which, does not resemble today’s game in the slightest.

For example, baseball’s magic pitching number is 300 wins. A starting pitcher who wins 300 games has always been assured a spot in Cooperstown. This standard may have worked in the 60s and 70s but it is archaic today.

In today’s game, pitchers get hurt far too frequently, do not throw often enough (expansion to 5-man rotations has limited # of games started), and do not throw deep into enough games (pitch counts have limited # of decisions awarded to starters) make 300 wins a Hall of Fame standard, for even the best pitchers.

Take any 300 game winner and compare his innings pitched, games started, and complete games to Schilling. Most, if not all, have roughly 2000 more innings pitched, 250-300 more games started, and 100-200 more complete games. And Schilling was considered a horse of his era! How is he supposed to compare win totals with pitchers who threw the equivalent of ten more 200 inning seasons than him?

More importantly, Schilling’s production occurred during the greatest offensive era in baseball history. His ERA was nearly a full run lower than league average throughout his career. The earned run averages of lesser pitchers in the Hall of Fame like Phil Neikro, Nolan Ryan, Steve Carlton, Don Sutton, and Gaylord Perry each hovered around their league’s averages throughout their careers. Carlton’s 2.99 ERA in 1968, when the league ERA was 2.90 should never be considered as impressive as Schilling’s 3.54 ERA in 1999, when league average was 4.80.

And as critics discredit the batting statistics of today’s juiced up era, shouldn’t the opposite be done for pitchers? Shouldn’t a pitcher like Schilling, a longtime advocate for steroid testing, be given credit for pitching in the greatest offensive era of all time? Wouldn’t this make sense?

And lastly, the most important aspect of Schilling’s inclusion to Cooperstown: His post-season resume. Schilling is arguably the greatest playoff pitcher in baseball history. His 11-2 record and 2.23 ERA are the best among pitchers with 100+ postseason innings. Schill pitched in four World Series, winning three championships. His teams are 10-2 in series that he pitched in.

Take any Hall of Fame starting pitcher from this era. Would you want him on the mound over Schilling in a Game 7? Didn’t think so.

Curt Schilling will be a case study for baseball writers still clinging to prehistoric Hall of Fame standards for modern pitchers. He will be the first great pitcher of the steroid era, unsuspected of steroid use, to receive HoF eligibility with career numbers indicative of a new generation of pitchers. It is up to the voters to be cognizant of this fact.

Schilling deserves his day in Cooperstown as part of the 2013 class. The only question that remains: Will Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens be there to share it with him?

http://thebasebox.blogspot.com/

Top 5 Pound for Pound Fighters (3/5/09)

I'm going to start posting my rankings once every couple of months or so. Due to their retirements, Floyd Mayweather Jr. and Joe Calzaghe were left off. I also left off Israel Vasquez and Rafael Marquez because of extensive inactivity.


5. Bernard Hopkins
B-Hop added another chapter to his Hall of Fame legacy last October with his dominant beatdown of Kelly Pavlik. Some P4P rankings have since placed Hopkins as high as #2. Despite the clinic Hopkins put on that night, he didn't impress me enough against Joe Calzaghe to deserve any higher placement.

What's next?
The only match that Hopkins appeared passionate about was a rematch with Calzaghe. After Calzaghe retired, Hopkins was left with little else to choose from in the light heavyweight division. It looks like Hopkins will either retire or move up in weight to fight cruiserweight champion, Tomasz Adamek.


4. Paul Williams- On sheer talent alone, Williams might be higher than #4. However, since just about every big name has chosen to duck the "Most Feared Man in Boxing", Williams is lacking the big victories that warrant a higher spot. Nobody wants to face a talented 6'2'' southpaw who can comfortably bounce between three weight classes (welterweight, junior middleweight, and middleweight). Antonio Margarito decided that he'd rather get annihilated by Shane Mosley for less money than fight Williams.

What's next?
Williams has finally gotten somebody of note to step into the ring with him, as he'll be taking on Winky Wright, April 11th on HBO. A win is necessary for Williams if he hopes to force big names into the ring with him. If he does win, I'd like to see a showdown with Mosley at 147 or 154.


3. Shane Mosley- Mosley's exceptional performance over Antonio Margarito reminded boxing fans that this guy can still really fight. Mosley was throwing bombs all night, hitting flush shots left and right, and eventually knocking out a man who many thought to be indestructible. In some ways, his performance might have been TOO GOOD, as it definitely didn't help make Floyd Mayweather that interested about getting into the ring with him.

What's next?
Mosley hoped to lure Floyd Mayweather out of retirement for a big money fight, but Pretty Boy Floyd chose to remain chillin. Mosley will wait to see if he can get the winner of Hatton-Pacquiao, though I think that both fighters are too small for him. If it's not Hatton or Pacquaio, he has numerous options at welterweight to look into. (Berto, Clottey, Cotto, Williams)


2. Juan Manuel Marquez- Following last Saturday's spectacular KO victory (Fight of the Year so far) over Juan Diaz, there's an argument that can be made that Juan Manuel Marquez is the #1 Pound for Pound fighter in the world. Since moving up to lightwight, Marquez has handily defeated two strong opponents, between Diaz and Joel Casamoyer. Compared to his rival Manny Pacquiao--whose ascension in weight classes involved a completely overmatched David Diaz at lightweight, and a washed-up, dehydrated Oscar De La Hoya at welterweight--Marquez's victories may have been more impressive. In their head to head battles, Marquez scored a draw and a narrow loss in two close fights against Pacquiao, fights that many people scored in Marquez's favor. (I scored both fights to Pacman by slight margins.) If you believe Marquez won either fight, you have every right to believe Marquez is the #1 fighter on earth right now.

What's next?
Marquez called out Mayweather following the win over Diaz. Though it'd be an excellent fight, I don't see it happening. If Mayweather does return, it'll be to fight the winner of Hatton-Pacquiao. Marquez should look for a mega-fight against the loser of that match.


1. Manny Pacquiao- Pacquiao all but sent Oscar De La Hoya into retirement with his domination of the Golden Boy last December. The victory confirmed Pacquiao's stature as the best fighter alive. He may have even reached that De La Hoya/Mayweather rock star "Big Money Fights Only" status with that performance--much to the dismay of Juan Manuel Marquez, who would love nothing more than a third crack at Manny.

What's next?
Pacquiao is gearing up for a May 2nd battle with Ricky Hatton. A victory over Hatton, who has never lost at 140 pounds, will be enough to solidify his status atop the P4P list. The lure of a P4P King battle against Money Mayweather awaits him if he is victorious. If Mayweather turns down the fight, Manny will likely fight Mosley or Miguel Cotto. If Manny loses to Hatton, a third fight with Marquez makes the most sense.

Ellsbury's Star Shines Brighter in October

During Game 2 of the 2001 ALDS between Oakland and New York, my brother Billy (10 years old at the time) asked me why the Red Sox never had players like Johnny Damon. Damon underperformed in his lone season with Oakland but remnants of the Kansas City star were evident once October rolled around.

Damon went 4-4 in Game 1 and added two more hits in Game 2—two Oakland victories. He patrolled the outfield gracefully, possessing a game-changing speed atop the order that affected how Roger Clemens and Andy Pettitte operated.

Even Damon’s outs were productive. He saw 22 pitches when making his three outs that night. I’m not sure if Nomar Garciaparra ever saw that many pitches in a week, let alone three at-bats.

I didn’t have an answer for Billy.

The Red Sox, at the time, were finally ending the Carl Everett era while toying with the idea of a young, slim Trot Nixon patrolling center field. The farm system was barren and speed was not common amongst Red Sox. (Everett led the Sox with 9 SB in 2001.) Ironically, Dan Duquette heeded Billy’s advice and signed Damon that off-season. For once, the Red Sox had the prototypical leadoff hitter that they lacked my entire life.

Well, if Billy had a 10-year old younger brother watching last night’s ALDS game with him—which I’m glad he doesn’t, because that would be weird—“Why don’t the Red Sox ever have players like Johnny Damon?” is one question that would most certainly never been asked.

Why?

Because Jacoby Ellsbury is that player.  His presence changes the complexions of postseason games like no other Red Sox player on the roster.



Ask the Colorado Rockies what it was like pitching to Dustin Pedroia and David Ortiz after Ellsbury reached base in 50% of his World Series plate appearances. Ask Mike Napoli (or Matt Napoli, as Buck Martinez calls him) how defenseless he feels with Ellsbury at first and Pedroia at the plate. Ask Mike Scioscia how it felt watching the 8th inning play out after Ellsbury robbed Mark Teixeira’s on a sinking line drive for the first out, preventing a potentially huge inning.

Ellsbury possesses a rare, multifaceted talent that is magnified during low-scoring October baseball. He’s reminiscent of a young Damon spraying line drives to all fields but with stronger plate discipline, more speed, Gold-Glove defense, and a Floyd Mayweather demeanor that flourishes as the lights get brighter.

Last night provided more of what Red Sox fans have grown to expect. Ellsbury went 3 for 5, stealing two bases and scoring a run, bumping his career playoff average up to a ridiculous .400 with a 1.022 OPS. (One of his outs was a triple that was incorrectly ruled a 3-base error) His RBI single in the 9th inning sealed Anaheim’s fate.

Ellsbury has established himself as the catalyst that stirs Boston’s “Dirty Water”. Some players go entire careers without accomplishing a fraction of what Ellsbury has in the seven playoff games he’s started in. Like Pedroia and Kevin Youkilis, two similarly hard-nosed homegrown players who have come to personify the Epstein Regime, the bigger the moment, the brighter Ellsbury’s star shines.

And best of all? 10-year old New Yorkers everywhere went to bed last night asking their older brothers why the New York Yankees don’t have players like Jacoby Ellsbury.