Here’s Fred Lynn, in a uniform a lot of people don’t remember him wearing.
At this very moment, I’m not watching baseball. The Red Sox are hosting the Angels at Fenway Park and apparently Mike Napoli has already hit a home run, but I don’t think watching a game is in the cards for tonight.
Instead, I’m sitting here, reading about other experiences loosely tied to the game and listening to Elvis in my newly rearranged living room, realizing that I’m not quite writing about the game, or anything else, with the kind of frequency I’d like. I still write enough, in whatever that sense may be, and I’m still following along, watching as Hanley Ramirez tries to hit through a bad shoulder and the Sox continue to let great performances by a suddenly rejuvenated starting rotation fall by the wayside. They’re struggling. It’s reality and it’s not ideal but I’m comfortable with that.
But it’s in this moment that I wanted to write about baseball, even if the urge to watch a game they may or may not be winning is, at the moment, nonexistent. Just something to reflect on this thing that’s here for half of the year, just about always when it’s needed, always present regardless of whether or not I’m paying attention. Continue reading
This is Dustin Pedroia. I’m pretty sure he still plays baseball, but it’s been a while.
Today, after work, I walked off the T and picked up a package of ground beef on my way home, changed into my Marco Scutaro t-shirt, relaxed and then got down to the business of making dinner. Tonight was enchilada night, not that every Tuesday is enchilada night, but just to give you a little bit of color this evening.
While I made dinner, I had the Eddie Vedder Water on the Road DVD playing in the background, and “Sometimes” and “Rise” and “Guaranteed” and such provided the soundtrack while I chopped peppers and browned the beef with the taco seasoning.
After dinner, I sat down with a drink and I turned my full attention to the Red Sox game, as they hosted the Padres in the first of a three-game series to dovetail with the Fourth of July. John Lackey was pitching, but I decided to stick with my decision to watch it anyway.
And it was right around that time that I realized this was the first time I was sitting down to watch a baseball game in earnest in more than a month. Continue reading
He'll be missed.
Sad news today, as Dick Williams, who managed the “Impossible Dream” 1967 Red Sox at the start of his career, has died. He was 82.
Williams had a decent playing career, bouncing between the outfield, third base and first base for the Brooklyn Dodgers, Cleveland Indians, Baltimore Orioles, Kansas City A’s and the Sox for 13 seasons.
But he made his name as a manger, and he earned the reputation of a tough-nosed dugout leader early. He whipped the Sox into shape and got them into the World Series for the first time in 21 years that first season. Later, he’d take the captaincy away from Carl Yastrzemski, and things got tense enough that he was let go with just nine games left in 1969.
But he wasn’t done. For the most part, wherever he went, he won. He won two World Series with the Oakland A’s in the 1970s, he took the Montreal Expos to their only playoff appearance in 1981, and in ’84, he helped the San Diego Padres win their first National League pennant.
He was rewarded for all this, finally, in 2008, when he was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. On his plaque, he’s wearing an A’s cap.