Francona Leaves The Ship His Own Crew Sank

Adrian Gonzalez simply couldn’t resist intoning, “It was God’s will that we not make the playoffs.” Who would have thought reaching for the sop of predestination would make Carl Crawford look better in the aftermath than he did on the field all season long?

And was it God’s will that Terry Francona, arguably the most successful manager in Boston Red Sox history, should end the season not with a sixth trip to the postseason in eight seasons on the bridge but with a walk away from the ship his own crew sank and a fall on his own sword?

The 129 Minutes Heard 'Round the World

I could say that there are no words, but then I wouldn’t be a writer. I could say that I didn’t know what to think or say when Evan Longoria tore Scott Proctor’s 2-2 service over the fence for game, wild card, and what remained of the Boston Red Sox’s hearts; when badly-spent rookie Atlanta relief pitcher Craig Kimbrel heaved up the tying run in the ninth and Hunter Pence ripped a two-out RBI single in the thirteenth. But then I wouldn’t be a baseball fan.

Quit Carping About Reyes

Memo to: Everyone carping about the manner in which Jose Reyes won the National League batting championship.

Subject: You’re carping up the wrong trees, folks. (That includes you, C.J. Wilson.)

Paternity Leave

An acquaintance in another forum, not necessarily pegged to baseball, suggests to me that one way to improve the game would be to curtail players’ paid paternity leave. Can’t these dimwit jocks figure out (in the large majority of cases) how to have their children born in the off season, he asks, so that they don’t have to weaken their teams and anger their team’s fans with their unnecessary absences?

As I replied to him, I should only like to be the proverbial fly on the wall if such a curtailment comes to pass and the following conversation might be had between a player and his loving spouse:

Innocence Stolen

"I never thought I could lose my innocence again."

“I never thought I could lose my innocence again.”

I was working and living in southern California and had arrived on the job freshly when I flipped on my radio and heard the news. Disbelief, then a kind of numbness, then anger, then grief. For those who were murdered. For the act of war committed upon my country, and my native city. An entire coast away I could do nothing but mourn. When I arrived home and saw the video of the attacks, I could watch but once. I didn’t need and couldn’t bear to watch more.