Casey & AC at the Bat: Managers in World Series

DATELINE: Field of Dreams at Fenway Again

casey Casey, not AC?

If you were to ask, we doubt we’d have said we would return to watching the Red Sox again. Our last blog on them was several years ago, but it is the World Series in Boston, again.

If you were to ask if writing about the managers might be a possibility,we might shrug. However, we realized that two former Sox players were now in back in Boston as managers:  Yes, there was an aging star Dave Roberts, now with the Dodgers, and his counterpart Alex Cora.

Might we say there is Magic in the Moonlight at Fenway? Well, only because we saw Magic Johnson there in the stands, as an executive braintrust with the Los Angeles baseball team. Wasn’t he part of the Bird-Magic story in Boston?

No, wait, we were thinking of Moonlight Graham playing in Field of Dreams when Kevin Costner was sitting in the stands with James Earl Jones who played Terence Mann, the writer who wanted to play with these same Dodgers.

No, we were shocked to see Alex Cora, or AC as his players call him in the modern familiarity with supervisors and managers. He was running a talent-laden team that had replaced the previous manager for not winning a World Series.

When AC pulled the hot rookie Devers and replaced him with a pitch hitter named Nunez, we were more in marvel at the assortment of beards on the players. Yet, suddenly, AC became a genius before a national audience.

The last time we saw that it was someone in another era by the name of Casey Stengel. He managed the New York Yankees, another talent-laden team that kept winning. Stengel would pick a pinch-hitter out of a hat who would win the game.

Suddenly there was AC channeling Casey. How appropriate, if not poetic. AC picked the man to win the game with a homer to the Monster Seats. It was a ghost movie for baseball once again.




Red Sox Players Don’t Like Boston Much

DATELINE:  Boston Not Their Home

fan Red Sox Fan

We heard that Las Vegas shooter Stephen Paddock considered coming to Fenway Park to bestow the city of Boston with his insane mass murder on the joint. This horrid revelation has not made a ripple with this year’s team of disgruntled, unhappy Red Sox players.

This will be our only piece about the Red Sox this year, as their season is coming to a close soon. Yeah, they are in the playoffs. Not that anyone in Boston gives much of a fig. This bunch is not liked.

Baseball fans love Fenway. They are lukewarm toward these players. If you believe baseball is business, these teammates come to the office, pick up their paychecks, but would rather play in any other city. They have no ties to Boston.

It could have something to do with the media. They hate the media, including homers like former Sox Hall of Famer Dennis Eckersley who was berated and attacked earlier in the season by pitcher David Price, a pitcher whose option likely will put him elsewhere in a season ahead.

He hates Boston.

Dustin Pedroia has played his entire career in the city, but has never embraced the town like David Ortiz, the last Sox player to be part of the community.

You figure after a dozen years, Pedroia would have some ties to Boston. He doesn’t.

Perhaps they have heard racial taunts at Fenway. Some fans dispute this allegation, but the players seem stand-offish to the Olde Towne. Most don’t like the liberals around here.

Young players are stuck here, but would rather play elsewhere. For example, Jacoby Ellsbury never embraced Boston, and preferred to move on to the Yankees where he is happier being anonymous than a star in Bean Town.

These Red Sox do not love the Dirty Water. Most probably wouldn’t understand the reference. They don’t want to be here and will disperse quickly next week when their seasonal prison sentence in Boston ends.

Good riddance to this team of apathetic nobodies.


Fenway Park Signage Up Ahead

DATELINE:  Trolls in the Park
imbeciles at work
Perhaps you belong to that quaint community that used to recall when signage at Fenway Park said things like: “No Smoking.” Or the ever useful “restroom” with the corresponding arrow.
Today if you go to Fenway Park, someone will unfurl a banner that reads: “Racism is as American as baseball.”
We would rush to advise the holders of the banner that they left out mom and apple pie.
Yes, indeed, baseball has a racist history. You probably can find racism and associated with any topic. Human nature being what it is.
The modern slogan is symptomatic of the new Puritans, following in the footsteps of their witch- hunting ancestors from Salem who always enjoyed finger-pointing on the way to kangaroo courts.
The new Puritans of today are likely wolves in sheepskin. They are college educated and know better than you whether you should wear a seat-belt or smoke a cigarette. And they are not shy to find any pulpit on which to share their slogan. In this case,  it happens to be Fenway Park on live television. Bingo, they have bingo.
When you are among the enlightened, you have carte blanche to do whatever you want whenever you want. Next you know, they may start crying fire in a crowded theater.
What the New Puritans are really against is being forgotten, or seen as unimportant, a mere cog in social media.  For them there is nothing worse than being a number in a computer program.
We don’t see much difference between those hapless fools who want to wave and cavort whenever television cameras turn on around them, and the new pure Puritan.
It’s a great American tradition to ask for liberty or death, or to live free or die.
We recall the days when a Fenway sign was something like, “Wade, we’re not wearing any underwear,” which always inspired Wade Boggs to get another hit.

Free Tom Brady


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With the Deflate-gate crisis coming to a screeching anti-climax for the umpteenth time, the fans in Boston have discovered there is little opportunity to express their feelings at Fenway Park.

Yes, those Red Sox are point killers this season. Fans are still in a good humor at Fenway Park. It is summer and a lovely setting, but the Red Sox are putrid. Once in a while, they surprise the fans, but usually the price of those status seeker seats far outweighs the era of good feelings.

So, this week, with days pending before Judge Richard M. Berman drops the hammer on someone’s head, the Sox faithful have decided to lighten the mood at Fenway with some old-fashioned protesting.

Not since the Vietnam War have we seen such passion among protestors.

Red Sox fans donned their New England Patriot jerseys and began to shout out, “Free Tom Brady.”

Well, it’s about time that football fans start to take over the airwaves and the sports arenas. The Pats are playing their pre-season and the Red Sox are playing out the string.

It’s time to switch those sox to Patsy stockings.

Tom Brady is on the line, and though the fans at Fenway would love to see David Ortiz hit #500 home run this season, the real energy is now focused on another Boston legend: the guy being railroaded by his own league,

So, the chanting grows. Hell, no, Brady shouldn’t go.

“Free Tom Brady,” is even on the T-shirt Governor Charlie Baker wears. You can’t go wrong in Boston by showing your fandom to any and all of the sports heroes.

Indeed, with days to go, we want to see Tom Brady free at last.

Rondo Finds Love at Fenway Park!

Rondo Finds Love



On a lovely Sunday watching baseballs fly around Fenway Park, the Red Sox won their sixth game in a row after a losing streak of the century.

If you want magic, then Fenway is the place to be.

And, if you want to find redemption and a home for good luck, you amble over to Fenway.

There, Rajon Rondo found the Love of his life, a center who could bring respectability back to the Celtics.

Rondo hasn’t looked this happy since Kendrick Perkins used to scowl at him at practice after their traditional breakfast together every morning.

Rumors swirled that the meeting between superstars is merely the tip of the tryst to tie the knot with the Celtics.

Love is looking everywhere for truth and beauty. He may have found it, despite the unseemly hat that Rondo wore for the occasion.

Fashionista Rajon Rondo thought he might hide in camo, but felt the vibes and headed over to Fenway where he met with the center of his dreams. It was a handshake worthy of Churchill and Truman at Pottsdam.

It might even be reminiscent of young Bill Clinton meeting JFK at the White House.

The moment has been caught for all you Hallmark fans. Rondo looks Love-struck, though Love looks bewildered, bewitched, and bothered.

Yes, Kevin Love is available and the suitors are lining up like Penelope’s admirers while Odysseus was away at war games. When the Celtics send their secret weapon to Fenway Park, you know they mean business.

Whether Love turns out to be the hero of Rondo’s rebirth, only his agent knows for sure.

After a happy weekend in Boston, Love may have found digs worthy of a champion.


It’s finally out! The latest collection of Ossurworld’s portraits of Rajon Rondo and the Celtics. Now the final volume of the trilogy is available at in softcover and ebook. Be sure to check out RAJON RONDO IN THE STAR CHAMBER!

Vatican & Fenway: More in Common Than You’d Guess

affluenza suffererDATELINE: Lining Up the Cannons


If the Red Sox have a problem this year, it is the same one that the Roman Catholic Church has: they start to canonize their stars all too soon.

In short, canonizing is not the same as making them cannon fodder, which also happens. It’s a Curia case in the Vatican, and it’s a curious case of media frenzy with the Fenway set.

In the Vatican two numbers are now about to be permanently retired: 23 for John and 2 for John Paul. In a few years the Sox will be retiring 5 for David and 15 for Dustin.

In Boston sports they always canonize one at a time, whereas the Vatican City is going in for doubles. They will even have two living popes there too.

A few diehard fans are even wondering whether the Sox ought to retire the 21 of Pope Clemens who actually had dubious affrontery to hold his papacy at Yankee Stadium. Another contingent would simply like to put Clemens in front of the cannon.

You need to have two miracles at the Vatican to be sent to the Hall of Saintly Fame, though bureaucratic exceptions have been made this year. John the 23rd had one miracle forgiven, like a bad debt.

If Clemens or Ortiz were put to the miraculous standard of sainthood, they’d pass with flying colors. Miracles are an everyday condition of being a mythic superstar.

One fact is certain about canonization. The Vatican is well known for its ostentation and pomp. When they turn you into a saint, they spare no circumstance.

Of course, the Vatican can’t compete with the Yawkey Way crowd as everyone who saw the Boston Marathon tributes at Fenway can attest. Everyone knows the Red Sox have more money than God.

Baseball Gem Continues to Shine Like a Zircon


Fenway Park is still the place to be if you want to be seen. Like an old movie star, the Park is where Field of Dreams was upstaged and Drew Barrymore dropped into center field with Fever Pitch.

Fenway Park is in its dotage, but the grand old lady of baseball cathedrals enjoys a day or night out, refurbished again by the owners.

They prove the point that the Park is not meant for fans of baseball, but for tourists with expensive taste.

A new third-base side concourse of bar and overpriced gourmet snacks has been added to the décor with glossy self-praising motifs of baseball lore. It’s about as glossy and cute as the new Sox sideline reporter and Zoolander, Gary Striewski.

Scoreboards and flat screens provide constant video coverage of the events a few feet below you on the baseball field. The point may be lost on people who are not watching the game, but imbibing in the upscale burgers and watered down saloon beer becomes the equivalent of a happening.

They haven’t watered down the prices, but if you want a cheap date, Fenway is the tart wearing the expensive perfume.

If comfort and baseball are your focus, you won’t be coming to Fenway. You will have a front row seat for your wide-screen fat rear end. You can pop your own corn and pour your own poison.

Attending a ballgame may still be a ritual and a rite of passage, but the coat of paint thrown on the walls at Fenway cover the cracks and give sheen to the cobwebs.

If you love Fenway Park for its history and old-fashioned feel for baseball, you may want to stay home. If you want two styles of bunting. Fenway still has it.





Media Worries About Empty Seats at Fenway Park


This week in Boston press coverage, the ever-obtuse media has been asking itself and fans the question, “Why is attendance down at Fenway Park?”

After years of belittling the fake sell-out figures, now the real figures are providing similar problems. Perhaps the numbers are not much different than at the height of the sell-out streak.

Manufactured issues are a given with the Boston media. Given their two empty-headed radio and TV stations, it is only natural they gravitate to fictional stories.

For some time the media has denigrated the Red Sox product as overpaid and pampered. When the team unloaded the quarter of a billion payroll robbers, the press became smug over signing “has-beens” and “never-was” players for millions.

When the team started winning, the media suddenly found chemistry in their dictionary. The word they should have been defining is “schizophrenia,” a condition of sports radio talk hosts.

The Fourth Estate drove fans out of Fenway out of guilt for supporting bad character teams. Now they berate the same fans for staying away from a heroic character team.

You can’t blame ownership this season. They have disappeared into the black lagoon, perhaps to reappear when playoffs are on the horizon.

You can’t blame fans that went to Fenway to see Fenway for having been there and done that.

You can blame the bleacher reporters and radio blab-meisters whose self-proclaimed insider knowledge may be about as thick as a bubble in Bill Belichick’s roster.

Red Sox attendance may be down, but press box seats are filled to capacity.

For more insight into the Red Sox, read RED SOX 2012: BOBBY VALENTINE’S SEASON IN HELL or RED SOX 2011: A WHIMSICAL AUTOPSY. Both are available on

Red Sox Biggest Decision Looms


Of all the controversies engulfing the Red Sox, none is more pressing than the identity of the guy who will sit in the press box this season before the park microphone.

Yes, the Red Sox front office (the same one that cannot make a decision on whether to play Jackie Bradley, Jr. or whether to sign Mike Napoli to life insurance) is now in the throes of a major paralysis on another issue.

Who will be the Red Sox public address announcer?

Larry Lucchino has orchestrated a parade of voices, tryouts, swimsuit competitions, and sundry criminal background checks. Now the Sox are in a state of gastroparesis.

The Red Sox cannot be too careful what person reads the names of the players coming up to bat at Fenway Park.

This has turned into a circus on the order of 76 trombones in the big parade. It has caused more groaning than heard at the recent St. Patrick’s Day Political Hack Breakfast in South Boston.

Public relations guru Dr. Charles Steinberg, responsible for ‘Fanfare for a Floundering Fan’ decision with music by John Williams at the 100th Fenway anniversary party, is now the eye of the storm over the PA announcer decision.

A bunch of voices was invited to tryout their echoing vibrato at Fenway all last season. They came and went with the alacrity of a budget crisis.

Reports started circulating this week that the job is so big that three men may have to share the onerous task of pronouncing “Saltalamacchia.”

Steinberg recently said that winner of this contest should be “the color of Fenway.”  Insiders immediately knew that Kermit the Frog was the frontrunner.

While the position of “voice of the Red Sox” burns, the Red Sox brass is mostly fiddling and diddling away.

Downtown Fenway’s New Season Rivals PBS Masterpiece Classic




Who would have guessed that the Boston Red Sox and Fenway Park had more soapsuds than Downton Abbey?

In fact, part owner Tom Werner had marketing studies done that told him he needed to elevate the sex appeal of his players and change the entire purpose of winning baseball games to winning more female viewers on their cable network.

To that end, Fenway Park has now more plots than Downton Abbey. You can start with Boston’s own Lord Grantham, King John Henry VIII and his alienated would-be son Theo Epstein who moved over to Wrigley Field, the adjoining estate.

And, there is more trouble downstairs at Fenway than Eaton Place and Downton Abbey ever had.

Head Butler Terry Francona has not stolen the silver, but he knows who has—and he is ready to name names.

Tom Werner wants a reality show on the Red Sox cable network to document what bodies are found in what bed on the road. We almost expect something like Lady Mary and her mother carrying the dead boyfriend to the guest room next morning to avoid scandal.

Already it looks like Mike Napoli may be left at the altar by Ben Cherington. Jacoby Ellsbury is throwing a wedding party—and many teammates will not be invited.

Lord Grantham’s bad investments are nothing compared to John Henry’s. Henry has had to divest himself of all his big stars to save money to continue to run Fenway Park. He has asked footman Larry Lucchino to sell gold bricks to make up the difference.

The 101st Fenway season is not even underway—and already the ratings are soaring.