Wednesday Morning, 3AM

Well, 4am, actually, but you get the picture. This is how it went:

4:00am Get up to watch the Sox-Mariners game.

4:10am Watch the Sox transform a bases-loaded, no-out situation into a single run.

4:30am Watch Kason Gabbard give up four bases on balls, hit a batter and walk in three runs.

4:35am Go back to bed.


Had it been 10pm, I might have stuck with the game, but I had a sneaking feeling that these would be three hours of my life that I wouldn't get back. And it turns out I was right.

The Mariners haven't been the best of teams in recent times, but they seem to have got the Sox' number right now - it's a good thing the series ends today. Still, despite everything, the Sox have a very respectable 25-16 road record - and remain ten games up in the division - but it'll be nice to head back to Boston for a little home cooking leading up to the All Star Break.

Brief Encounter

It's not often that it happens to me, but this morning I had a close encounter of the baseball fan kind here in Paris.

As I was sat in Starbucks waiting for my wife and daughters to come out of the cinema next door, I noticed a young kid and his dad walking towards me. From a distance I thought I recognised the logo on the kid's t-shirt, but I wasn't quite sure. As he got closer, I was pleased to note that my eyesight isn't yet completely shot to hell: I had indeed spotted a red 'C' with a bearcub inside.

As the two of them went by, I was able to see that this was definitely a genuine fan, as only a genuine fan would be sporting a #9 Juan Pierre jersey. He and his dad had almost gone by when the kid looked up and noticed my Red Sox t-shirt (Red Sox on the front, 20 / Youkilis on the back). He tugged at his dad's sleeve and pointed in my direction. They were clearly in a rush to get somewhere, so there was no long baseball conversation - just a nod and a knowing smile - but it was nice to feel for a couple of seconds that I wasn't completely alone in the baseball desert.

The high-fidelity first class travelling set

Money, get away.
Get a good job with good pay and youre okay.
Money, its a gas.
Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash.
New car, caviar, four star daydream,
Think Ill buy me a football team.

Pink Floyd

Roger Clemens has so far pitched three games for the Yankees, all against National League teams, and what does he have to show for it? About $2.7m and a 1-2 record. Ouch.

OK, so W-L is not a fair stat by which to judge poor Rog. Still, the Yankees have at least gotten themselves a bona-fide horse, an innings-eater who will pitch deep into the game and save those precious bullpen arms, right? Erm, wrong

No-one expected Clemens to pitch a complete game every time out, but at almost $1m for 4 1/3 innings, Steinbrenner would have been better off just piling his money up in the middle of Yankee Stadium and setting fire to it. At least it would have been entertaining to watch.

The inside story

The scene: Wednesday June 20th, Red Sox locker room, Turner Field.

David Ortiz: Hey bro', I been reading on the Internet that that Baseball Desert dude ain't watching all our games anymore.

Coco Crisp: You serious? You mean he's been missing the return of Coco's pop?

David Ortiz: S'what he said. He's just watching the highlights 'n' shit...

Coco Crisp: Man, he's been waiting a year to see me hit the crap outta the ball, and now he's taking time off? The hell is up with that?

David Ortiz: You need to teach him a lesson, bro'. You know, hit another one out tonight. Three homers in three days - he ain't ever gonna believe that shit!

Coco Crisp: Dude - I might just do that...

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For Coco's information, I was watching, and it was a good night of baseball. When the Braves walked Varitek to get to Coco, I was already smiling - they played the season percentages, but ignored the fact that Coco is red-hot right now. Cue three-run homer, a silenced home crowd and a 5-0 first-inning lead.

My man JT took that as his cue to throw another great game. The Sox gave him 8 runs to play with, but one would have been enough. It's going to take more than blisters and the blues to stop the Tavarez juggernaut from rolling on...

QED

See - they did just fine without me.

I haven't watched the full highlights yet, but the defensive play of the game seems to be Coco's spectacular catch in the fifth (and Josh agrees). I know it's what these guys are paid to do, but it's always enjoyable to see something like that, especially when the player in question just dusts himself off afterwards and wanders coolly back to his position.

One interesting footnote to the catch: if you watch the clip on MLB.com, you'll see that it took both the Atlanta announcers and the cameraman by surprise. Not so Alex Cora. You'll see that Cora raises a celebratory fist about a second before the ball lands in Coco's glove, almost as if it were a routine pop-fly on the infield. That, ladies and gentlemen, is confidence in your teammates.

For love of the game

Last night we finished dinner at around 8:30pm, and I was all set to get into my gameday routine: off to bed at 9pm and then up at 1am for the 7:05 ET start. Then it occurred to me - I really didn't feel like getting up to watch the game. There wasn't any particular reason - I wasn't especially tired, I didn't have a tough day at work ahead and there was no reason to believe that Schilling would get shelled again - it's just that I didn't feel like it.

Despite my passion for the Red Sox, this is not a cause for concern. It happens occasionally, and when it does, I usually just take the night off and come back refreshed for the next game. What I noticed last night, however, was something that's been creeping in this season. Having decided that I'd spend the evening doing something other than watching baseball, I suddenly started thinking about the running tally of the number of games I've seen: "If I push myself to watch this one, I can add another game to the total."

I'm slightly ashamed to admit that it actually took me a couple of seconds to step back from that statement and think: "WTF?!" Keeping a running total of the number of games was supposed to be just an interesting comment on my crazy baseball-watching habits, but now it seems to have become an end in itself. Even if my life sometimes seems to revolve around the Red Sox, this is not how things are supposed to be. I enjoy getting the looks and comments from people when I tell them how I spend my evenings from April through October, but I don't want to get to the point where that's all I'm concerned about.

There are a couple of steps needed to remedy this. Step 1 is to stop the running total. I think it's clear to anyone who reads this blog - including myself - that I'm a bona fide Red Sox fan. I don't need to back that up with numbers. And it's fairly obvious that, like most passionate Sox fans, I spend more time than I should worrying about a bunch of millionaires playing a game, but I'm not going to try to change that, any more than I'm going to try to stop liking sushi. It is what it is: part of my makeup, and if Roger Angell says it's OK to care, then who am I to argue?

Step 2 is to not worry about not seeing the games or taking a couple of nights off. The world will not come to an end because I miss a game or two, nor will my membership of Red Sox Nation (European Chapter) be revoked. The Sox'll do their thing whether I'm there or not, but when I am there, it should be because I want to see the game, and not because I feel I need to make some kind of statement.

So tonight I may watch the game, or I may go and do something completely crazy like spend a little time with the family. I'm sure that, in my absence, the Sox and Red Sox Nation will keep thing ticking over.

Sighs of relief

A lot of good things happened in the series against the Giants, but if you're looking for key moments, they once again came from the Sox relievers:

• In Saturday's tight 1-0 game, Okajima came in in the eighth, gave up a walk and a hit, and then proceeded to get Bonds (strikeout, looking - read what Giants GM Brian Sabean had to say about that here), Molina (flyout) and Frandsen (ground out) to extinguish the fire.

• Yesterday, Giants trailing by three, bases loaded, one out - Joel Pineiro comes in and gets an inning-ending DP with his very first pitch.

Daisuke and Wake got the respective wins, but those two games were won in those two spots. In both cases I was already composing the "They're only human" post, only to be proved completely wrong. If being proved wrong on a daily basis means that we're going to win more games in this fashion, then I'm happy to take one for the team as long as it's needed.

The good news this Monday morning - above and beyond the sweep - is that after the shaky period the Sox went through earlier this month the standings still look like this:

The Sox lead the division by 8 1/2 games, their W-L over the last ten games now stands at a very respectable 7-3 and they still have the best record in baseball. Which mean that this:


is most definitely a glass half-full.

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Obsessive Anal-Retentive Game Counter: 55

Old friends

I would have settled for this:

(photo: MLB.com)

but the Dustin and J.D Show was an added bonus.

Despite Perdoia's home run in the 1st, I thought we were screwed when Papi got thrown out of the game, which just shows you how much I - or indeed any of us - know about baseball. The ejection was bullshit on two counts: 1) it didn't look like a third strike and 2) it was clear that the umpire had his finger on the trigger as Papi walked back to the dugout and was just waiting to pull it. As Jerry Remy said: "C'mon on...." Having said that, Papi is always bitching about calls, and I'm surprised he doesn't get thrown out more often, so I guess we can chalk this one up as a balancing of the karmic scales.

What kept the Sox in the game and allowed our #1 and #2 hitters to basically run the show, was yet another great performance by Julian Tavarez (complete with fielding signs and a bowling-ball out at first). I've said I before, but it bears repeating: this guy has kept us in more games than we had a right to expect. Despite going up against opponents' aces left, right and centre, he has done a great job. There are a lot of star players on the Sox roster, many of whom have performed well so far, but if there's a ballot for Red Sox MVP for the first half of the season, my vote goes to Jools, if only for the complete turnaround from last season.

Viva El Yo-Yo!

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Obsessive Anal-Retentive Game Counter: 53

Philosophical question

It's Friday (yes!!), and my head is filled with some of life's great philosophical questions, not least of which is:

Are the Sox losing because I'm not watching them, or am I not watching them because they're losing?

Whichever way you look at it, part of me is glad not to be getting up in the wee small hours of the morning to watch them them score a grand total of 6 runs in the last four games, good for one win and three losses.

The weekend is about to roll around, so I'll be in front of my TV/PC for the three games against the Giants. This'll mean having to watch Barry Bonds, but I look at it as taking one for the team, the sacrifice needed in order to be able to say thanks - from a distance - to an all-time Red Sox hero:

(photo: Getty images)

What was he thinking?

If you've ever wondered what goes through a pitcher's mind when he's in the middle of a potentially historic game, you now have the answer.

This is exactly the kind of post that I'm interested in as a fan. Not just the details of pitch selection and execution, but the thought processes behind them and, in this specific instance, how a player - and his teammates - deal with coming so close:

"As soon as the ball hit the outfield grass I thought 'Ok what do I want to do with Ellis?' I hadn’t even contemplated him hitting up to this point. Tek was starting to come to the mound, Mike did as well. I waved them both off as I was absolutely locked into getting this next out. This win was something we sorely needed but it was cool as hell to know the two veteran leaders on this team are that aware of how the game and the mind can work. Neither wanted me to let this slip by going to a bad place mentally."

Allez les Dodgers!

An update on our man Joris Bert, who did make history yesterday as the first French player ever to be drafted. He was selected in the 19th round by the Dodgers.

(photo: FFBSC)

It's still a long, hard road to the majors, but Joris has at least got his foot in the door. The Baseball Desert wishes him bon vent...

J.D. and Julio down by the ballyard

So, apparently, there's this J.D. Drew guy on the Red Sox team? I guess he must be a new acquisition, as I don't remember seeing him round before. But if he's going to have career-high seven-RBI nights, maybe we can persuade him to play more often.

I don't know - maybe he was due. Maybe the J.D. Drew we'd been seeing was some under-performing clone playing whilst the real J.D. Drew was on a long vacation in Aruba. Maybe he just didn't want to suck horribly in front his little brother. Whatever the reason, I'd like to say that we like this J.D. Drew and we'd be delighted to see him stick around for a while.


Note to Julio Lugo: We also like the whole 'leadoff home runs and heads-up rally-killing plays at second base' thing you had going last night. Keep it up.

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Obsessive Anal-Retentive Game Counter: 51

The blame game

Wanna know who was responsible for Schilling not getting the no-hitter?

It was Red. No, wait, it was Ernie. Erm, no, it was Beth's fiancé, Steve.

Aaaah, Red Sox Nation, at its superstitious finest.

Actually, if we're looking for someone to blame, we need look no further than Schill:

"With two outs I was sure I had it," the 40-year-old Schilling said. "I shook off [Red Sox catcher Jason Varitek] and now I'll have to deal with a 'what-if' the rest of my life."

Varitek wanted a slider but Schilling wanted a fastball away. A's left fielder Shannon Stewart was looking for exactly the pitch Schilling threw.

Well, what's done is done. It was still a hell of a game and a great win for the Sox, who came off the field pumped and smiling, just one day after looking like they'd all been to somebody's funeral.

I'll leave the final word to The Man himself:

Tina Cervasio: "What were your emotions as that ball went through?"

Schilling: "It's a one-nothing game - let's get the out. We needed a win today more than anything, and I wanted to finish that game."

Mission accomplished. With bells on.

Two words

Shannon Fuckin' Stewart.

My positive take on this - outside of it stopping the losing streak - is that the hit basically saved Lugo's ass. Had Schilling got the no-hitter, we'd all have been pointing at Lugo and saying: "Without that error, he'd have had a perfect game."

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Obsessive Anal-Retentive Game Counter: 50

Hell hath no fury...

Man Stays With Friends In Pub; Fiancee Dumps Belongings In Harbour.

I'm not going to debate whether Ms Thompson's reaction may or may not have been a little over-the-top, but rather point out this phrase:

Mr Wilson only discovered what happened after his boss called to tell him the van had been spotted floating in the harbour.

Wow - I'd love to have been a fly on the wall of that particular conversation.

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If you came here looking for thoughts on the Red Sox and are now wondering why there have been three non-Sox posts in a row, it's because I've decided that these games - hidden out there on the West Coast - are not being played. Sox / A's? Dunno what you're talking about. I can see an interleague game against the Diamondbacks coming up on Friday, but that's about it.

In the meantime, my head is staying firmly buried in the sand.

French revolution?

I don't usually follow the MLB draft, but today I'll be keeping an eye on the proceedings, as there is a possibility that Joris Bert could become the first-ever French player to be drafted.

Bert's stats this season at Frank Philips College - .395 BA, 28 RBI, 42 stolen bases in 49 games - have made some major league teams, including the Mariners, sit up and take notice. If he does get drafted, it may not quite signal the opening of the floodgates, but it's another small step towards the globalisation of the best game in the world.

Baseball à la française

For those of you who are reading this in the Paris area and who might want to try your hand at a bit of baseball, you should check out the event being run by the FFBSC this coming weekend: Full details of the event can be found here.

It's an event aimed at promoting the three sports, particularly within the 6-18 year age range, so if you have kids who might be interested in playing baseball - or even just discovering what it's all about - then it could be a good way to while away a couple of hours this weekend.

In enemy territory

In the comments to yesterday's post "Ben A" kindly pointed out this little gem: his buddy 'Matt D' on Letterman. It's doing the rounds of the Red Sox blogs, but I thought I'd post it anyway because 1) there are Baseball Desert readers who don't necessarily read the other Sox blogs out there, so I'm doing a public service, and 2) it'll take my mind off the Sox' ability to convert seven walks and two bases-loaded situations into absolutely fuck-all.


"Roger Clemens - what about that?"
"Yeah - that'll help..."
"But he used to pitch for the Red Sox?"
"He did - about forty years ago when he was twenty..."

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Obsessive Anal-Retentive Game Counter: 49

Off on the wrong foot

Eight hours' sleep: good.
Baseball over breakfast: very good.
Red Sox comeback (viva Wily Mo!) in the 9th: excellent.
J.C. Romero's strikeout and 5-2-3 DP with the bases loaded and no-one out: outstanding.
Eric Chavez walk-off: bleurgh.

This is the second straight morning that has begun with a last-inning loss, and I'm not liking it very much. It's already a pain to drag myself into the office every day, but the Sox are making this especially hard for me right now. I hope they don't intend to make this a habit.

Here in the real world

Another day, another one of those bloody 4-hour, every-pitch-contains-decades-of-history Yankee marathons. The Sox looked like they were going to lose, then looked like they were going to win, and then, all of a sudden, we entered an alternate universe and the bubble burst.

Because of the 8pm ET / 2am CET start time (thanks, ESPN - I really love it when you mess with the schedules just so that I can listen to Joe Morgan talk out of his ass), I got just 3 hours' sleep before the game started, and none at all after, which means that watching A-Rod hit that homer was basically not only the end of my weekend, but also the starting-point of my week. Ugh.

The upshot of all this is that I've been up for 11 hours already, even though it's barely lunchtime, and I'm tired and pissed off and more than a little tetchy. Not too tired, however, to step back from the Sox-Yankees stuff and take a look at what the series means in real terms. The Sox losing 2 out of 3 games felt like the end of the world, but it was nice to be reminded that life is still pretty good:
The Sox are 10 1/2 games ahead of the Blue Jays, 12 1/2 ahead of the Yankees and they still have the best record in major league baseball.

I think I can safely come down off that ledge. For the moment, at least.

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Obsessive Anal-Retentive Game Counter: 48

Team game

Youk's hitting streak ended, but it did so for the good of the team:

'You don't know me if you're asking me that question,' said Youkilis. 'I don't swing at balls. That's not a pitch I can hit on 3-1. I'm looking fastball and he threw a slider. I'm not going to chase a pitch on 3-1.'

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Note to Mike Lowell: In future, to avoid accusations of dirty play, you should try one of the following classy, big-league plays:

• slapping the ball out of Cano's glove
• yelling 'Mine!' (or 'Hah!' or 'I got it!') as he tries to make the play

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Obsessive Anal-Retentive Game Counter: 47

The game goes on...

... and on and on and on.

I'm staring to believe that Sox-Yankees games are played in a parallel universe, where time runs slower than it does in the real world. Halladay and Buehrle could have pitched two games in the time it took for the Sox to lose to the Yankees last night, and still had time left over to grab a couple of post-game beers.

I have to admit I gave up on the this one out of pure fatigue. The 'rain' delay meant that the game got started about 30 minutes late, and by the time the seventh inning rolled around, it was 4:45am here, and you didn't need to stick a fork in me to tell that I was done. It turns out that I didn't miss much - most of the damage had already been done by the time I bailed out, and even the potentially bases-clearing brawl in the ninth never really got going.

I can't say that I was disappointed about abandoning this game. No matter when the teams play or what the standings are, Yankee games make me nervous. And when the spectacularly unpredictable knuckleball is all that stands between the Sox and a severe beating, I'm not in a good place. I love the knuckleball, and when it's working, it is a thing of both beauty and mystery, but when things start to go pear-shaped - and it hurts to even think this about Wake - it's hard to watch your starting pitcher try to use his 70mph 'fastball' to blow opposing hitters away. Call me fickle, but I have to admit that when the chips are down, I resort to full old-school redneck mode, and only 95mph Papelbonian high cheese will satisfy me.

Curt and Josh: if you're reading this, you know what to do...

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Obsessive Anal-Retentive Game Counter: 46

Phriday Philosophy

As I've looked up from my PC here in the office this week and glanced out of the window, I've been able to watch two guys on a suspended gantry slowly but surely re-paint the outside of the building opposite. I'm sure it's often mind-numbingly dull work (and as someone who has, in his time, washed dishes, delivered newspapers and stacked supermarket shelves to earn some money, I know a mind-numbing job when I see one), but I do envy the fact that by the end of today, they'll at least have something to show for their week's work. They'll be able to stand at the foot of the building, look up and say: "These is what we did today. Feel free to admire our good work."

Me? Well, I've spent my week making a lot of telephone calls and juggling two dozen agendas to set up a meeting where a bunch of people will sit around discussing subjects that 99% of the population has never even heard of, let alone is interested in.

Sometimes I wonder where it all went awry...