Curse of the Bambino Haunts the Celtics

DATELINE:  A-Rod Spoils the Night

 Jacoby Returns

The curse of the Bambino hit the Celtics and eliminated them in the playoffs this season.

Yes, you had only to look at the New York Yankees who came to the playoff game to realize the Celts were dead meat. If the Yanks can do in the Red Sox annually, the Celtics end up as an appetizer.

Who let them in?

So, with the Yankees coming to Fenway Park on Friday for the first series of the season against the Red Sox, you had several Yankees coming to the last game of the season for the Celtics.

You be the judge.

There in the front row, inexplicably a fan of someone somewhere, was A-Rod. Yes, the loathed Alex Rodriguez of the Yanks was at a Celtics game, smiling and spreading his own brand of joie de vivre for Atlanta fans.

To see A-Rod in fine fettle across the court from Bill Russell, you wondered what voodoo would outdo the doo-doo.

Yet, it was worse. The Prodigal Son of the Red Sox showed up in a luxury box, high above the rafters. Yes, there he was in all his splendor, Jacoby Ellsbury, former Red Sox star of the future, and now Yankee bench-rider of the present. He too was a happy camper, waving at the crowd from his perch where the Atlanta Hawks might have an aerie.

The Celtics were doomed from the opening tip-off. The Bambino sent his minions to another sport in Boston—and sent the Celtics off to the golf courses of America for another summer.


Dog Flu Hounds the Red Sox


 Unusual Suspicions

Red Sox of 2014 belong in quarantine.

We have stayed away because the Red Sox seem to have come down with “dog flu,” the latest medical phenomenon.

Is it contagious? Only time will tell if the symptoms persist into July, but right now it appears to be a full-blown case of mediocrity.

If you trust the Boston media and insiders, this was a team destined to repeat their championship season. Well, aren’t these the same brainiacs who predicted the Boston Bruins would sweep their way to the Stanley Cup. The Bruins look like they ought to be sweeping out the Stanley Hotel.

The Bosox team needs botox to make them look young and vibrant. Their touted replacement for Jacoby Ellsbury is looking like some of the great busts of baseball history.

It’s too soon to shut the door on the career of Bradley, Junior, but he looks like junior varsity from here.

If the Sox thought divesting themselves of Saltalamacchia and Ellsbury was not a Mayan sacrifice, then they fooled only fans in the bleachers. Cutting out the heart of a team seems foolhardy.

We are left with blowhard Big Papi, not one to inspire great loyalty unless you are into “selfies.”

The Sox this year seem to be a mirror image of the 2013 team. Everything appears reversed. Losing walk-off games is not the stuff of a highlight reel.

Unless the Sox can overcome the reversal of fortunes, they may be champions only to the media fortunetellers with Tarot cards. We don’t want to collect these Red Sox cards.

April Showers Turn into Deluge for Red Sox


Tweetie Ellsbury

For those wondering if the Sox can repeat their amazing season, the answer is resoundingly yes.

We refer to the amazing season under Bobby Valentine in the year prior to winning the World Series. As we recall, it was the worst season in 50 years. And, now the Sox are reverting to form. Soon they will be breaking Valentine’s day records.

2014 is shaping up to be John Farrell’s Bobby Valentine impersonation. The Ghost of Christmas Past has arrived—and he is wearing Bobby Valentine’s uniform.

The Mayan calendar was wrong. This year is the end of the Red Sox world.

You know things are upside down when Jacoby Ellsbury is living in a Manhattan penthouse and Daniel Nava is living in a Pawtucket motel room.

When your team is bombed by the Bronx Bombers, when your team makes five errors against the Yankees, and the reliever allows five walks in the ninth inning, you know it’s going to be a long season. Some of these horrors have not happened since Casey Stengel showed up Pinky Herman.

Welcome to the doormat, Sox fans.

The Red Sox were up so long last year that down starts to look like another singular experience. Worst to First to Worst may be the new Tinkering Chance to Evers double-play now revised by MLB as the transfer possession rule.

Last year we quoted T.S. Elliot to describe the Red Sox. This year we have returned to Ogden Nash.

To wit, Sox fans: “Consider the auk;
Becoming extinct because he forgot how to fly, and could only walk.

Consider man, who may well become extinct
Because he forgot how to walk and learned how to fly before he thinked.”

Ellsbury Returns to Accolades

Tweetie Ellsbury



The Red Sox turned over a new leaf on Tuesday against the dreaded Yankees.

With the return of one-sleeve base-stealer Jacoby Ellsbury, the Sox decided to take the high road. Stealing the thunder from indignant and old-fashioned fans, the Sox brass showed what is called “class” in the parlance.

The Boston organization offered a video tribute to the departed Ellsbury, and they almost called him one of the dearly departed.

This new trend of honoring turncoats may be turning a few stomachs. The Boston Celtics also did this with Ray Allen, though the underlying sickening feeling did not really disappear. It was masked in a veneer of hypocrisy.

Ellsbury never intended to remain with the Sox, and Allen never intended to stay with his Big teammates. They smelled the money—and left an odor in their wake.

Ellsbury was all smiles and tipped his cap. It was not like the old days when Johnny Damon was treated like the proverbial old trick when he returned with the Yankees.

A few diehard Yankee haters have called the velvet glove treatment of Ellsbury a thing of “Pink Hats,” and no better sobriquet can be put on King John Henry VIII, a man who hates messy situations.

The goodwill surprised Ellsbury. His coffers are now filled with greenbacks and his back is now patted with Red Sox charms. He returned the era of good feeling by helping the Yankees beat the Sox.

Whatever happened to the good old days?


No Bananas for YES, and No Dignity for Ellsubry



Do the New York Yankees even know who they’ve signed to a long-term deal?

One of their biggest free agents of the off-season came with the imprimatur of uberagent Scott Boras. Yet. The Yankees have no idea of who he is.

For the first game at Yankee Stadium for their budding new superstar, the Yankee scoreboard announced that #22 and playing centerfield is Jacboy Ellsubry.

YES, the dyslexic network of the Bronx Bombers, bombed on the spelling of Jacoby Ellsbury, which may require that the Yankee proofreader go on the DL for the next few weeks and learn how (a) spell and (b) type.

Poor old rich signed free agent Jacoby Ellsbury suffered the slings and arrows, the indignity, of seeing his name “Ellsubry” writ big.

We wondered if there was a Boras bonus for any misspelling of Jacoby’s name in a public venue related to the YES Network.


Yes, we have no bananas, and we have no Ellsubry too.

The man, who had to get out of Boston as soon as his pen hit a piece of contractual paper, now may see that the scoreboard in Boston may have been smaller and so was his paycheck, but the Red Sox knew who he was.

Now, if Ellsubry is a bust, Ellsbury will be off the hook. It was his evil twin that took over and failed to succeed in the business of New York sports.

As for us, we hope that when Jacoby comes back to Fenway Park, he suffers derisive laughter when the PA announcer refers to Jacboy Ellsubry, now hitting for the Yankees.


David Ortiz Emulates the Robber Barons


With the Red Sox season of 2013 in the history books, and players already moving on to new teams, the big hero of the World Series has decided to re-start his version of the life of Robin Hood.

David Ortiz plans to hold up the Sox for another year’s contract. He still has a full year left on his bitter negotiation from a year ago, but now has decided the Red Sox billionaires who own the team can afford to pay poor Papi a bit more.

Beadle Cherington has met his Oliver Twist.

Yes, Ortiz sees himself as the man most deserving of more money. And, why not? He just watched Jacoby Ellsbury run off with the Steinbrenner family silverware.

Of course, by the time a new contract with the Red Sox finishes out, Papi will still be younger than Robinson Cano, Albert Pujols, and Alex Rodriguez, when their legal robberies are done.

If you want to hold up King John Henry VIII, you may as well do it when your popularity is peaking. Papi can do no wrong in Boston, apparently. Whether he drops an F-bomb on your kids, or breaks up his own happy home, the public can’t get enough of the naturalized American citizen.

Somewhere in those civics lessons to get his American citizen papers, Papi read up on the great rogues of America: we don’t mean Billy the Kid or Jesse James. We speak of the Robber Barons.

For a man with a weak Achilles heel, he is taking risks to gain a fortune. Who could blame him? His career could end in spring training this March when his brittle bones start to crack and to dissolve. Sort of like Mike Napoli’s hips.


 To relive the happy days of 2013, you should read RED SOX 2013: NAKED CAME THE LINEUP.  It’s available in softcover and ebook formats from




Ellsbury Buys the Brooklyn Bridge



Why did the chicken cross the road? He was headed to the Brooklyn Bridge where chicken feed is made of gold.

You’d be better served to ask why Jacoby Ellsbury turned his coat inside out. His bastion of loyal followers will only wish him luck and root for the Yankees whenever he comes to Boston for a few years.

Ellsbury posted a thank you advertisement in the Boston Globe (owned by Red Sox kingpin John Henry VIII). These de rigueur ads are about as vapid as the sappy sentiments they convey.

A man of few words for seven years is not about to write some Faulknerian ode to Boston.

Instead, the ad features a rather large photo of Ellsbury under the World Series trophy. It could be that trophy tipping is one of his hobbies, having grown up tipping sleeping cows over too.

He looks like he may have a hard time crawling out from under the trophy. Don’t let it hit you on the head, Jacoby.

You’ll notice too that Jacoby thanked fans and teammates, but not the front office or owners. He never bothered to call them to let them know he was going, going, gone. They read in the Boston Globe, just like you.

We are left wondering what fowl ball soured Ellsbury on the Red Sox. Oh, we’re back to that chicken crossing the road and heading to the Bronx.

Jacoby never developed a nickname of affection and never provided much to the fans through the media in seven years. You can probably count his words in the advertisement and find more bon mots than he ever gave during his Fenway years.

At least now he can afford another sleeve on his uniform.

You can read all about Ellsbury and his teammates in RED SOX 2013: NAKED CAME THE LINEUP!  Now available on in softcover. Don’t miss it.kindlecoverredsox2013

Jacoby Ellsbury Sees a Puddy Tatt


ImageTweets for the Tweetie

MLB released a photoshopped photo of Jacoby Ellsbury in a Yankee uniform, pronouncing he was already in his new duds.

This is before an official announcement and synchronous with his physical. His steel buns survived the jet ride from his home in Arizona to the Big Apple for the big event.

Ellsbury must be staying in New York for the rest of the week in order to attend a giant press conference over at the Bronx zoo on Friday the 13th.

We almost figure there will be a serial killer in a goalie mask coming out of the shadows to attack him. No, Tuukka Rask would never do that, even for Boston.

The Yankees love to fly in the face of convention and superstition—and holding a press conference and signing Ellsbury on Dec. 13th, Friday, is brave indeed.

As every fan in Boston knows, you never tempt fate when it comes to the glass unicorn that is Jacoby Ellsbury.

This week Boston fans will have a smug look on their faces, like the cat with a canary sitting on his tongue. Yet it is New York Yankees that look like the Cheshire Cat. The signing of Ellsbury is about as big as discovering Sylvester has finally caught Tweetie Pie.

Little Tweetie Ellsbury has seen the puddy tatt and now his face is shaved cleaner than a hound’s tooth. His new photo makes him look surprisingly like Johnny Damon.

Like all multi-year deals, this one won’t be finally settled until accounts are in arrears. Somewhere down the road we fully expect the glass fragility of Ellsbury to put him on the shelf.

Whether Ellsbury turns out to be a Faberge Egg, or just another New York Humpty Dumpty, the next few years will tell us. But, Boston fans are already relaxed and breathing a sigh of relief.

Tweetie Pie’s cage is out of our ken of responsibility.


 You can read about Jacoby Ellsbury in Boston in the new book RED SOX 2013: NAKED CAME THE LINEUP!  It is now available at in softcover and ebook format.

Rondo’s Mirror Image Goes to Yankees

Rondo&GreenNebulacover DATELINE: HUMOR!

With the cute buns of steel running off to New York, we are going to miss the speedy Jacoby Ellsbury.  It leaves us only with the walking wounded Rajon Rondo.

Whatever will we do if Danny Ainge sends Rondo packing to some place like New York?

Reports came out this week that Rondo was close to returning, but Ainge has thrown cold water on that silly notion. He points out that Rondo walks with a limp nowadays, making him look like one of the walking dead zombies.

 If Rondo is limping, there will be no takers for the last bastion of head cases in Boston. We had twin Garbo Award winners for years, and now we are down to one. What’s Damon without Pythias? No, not Johnny Damon.

Rondo may not appear again in a game until Ellsbury is reading to put on pinstripes in Florida.

Few people know it, but Rondo and Ellsbury were exactly the same size. Despite three years difference in age, both men are exactly six feet one inch and 185 pounds.  Even their birthdays are on significant days in American history: Rondo was born on Presidents’ Day and Ellsbury on 9-11.

Alas, we have never been able to judge Rondo’s buns because of those awkward long shorts he always wears, but Rondo has a tapered waist—which Ellsbury has kept under wraps. In practice sometimes he wore black tights, which highlighted the highlights.

We presume all other matters physical can be averaged to a yin and yang clone. Each has won a World Championship for Boston and been a duck boat herald.

Who’s faster?  Ellsbury contends that his 40-yard dash speed is consistently 4.2 seconds. Rondo’s speed has been clocked at its fastest of 3.8 and his slowest of 4.6, which interestingly averages at 4.2 seconds: it is the same as Ellsbury.

With Ellsbury now gone, Rondo remains our singular favorite sports lunatic, taking half-a-dozen showers every day and having a phobia about germs leaping onto his bare feet in the shower stall.

So, we are fairly certain that our OCD over Rondo will continue to be met with his own personality quirks.


Fans of Rondo and Ellsbury may want to read RAJON RONDO: SUPERSTAR! or RED SOX 2013: NAKED CAME THE LINEUP for the most insights per page of any book on these stars. Available at in softcover.

Conundrums, Enigmas, Mysteries, and Jacoby Ellsbury



Red Sox manager John Farrell may have revealed too much when he told a sports radio station that players were “jolted” by Jacoby Ellsbury’s jump into pinstripes.

Wouldn’t you know they were the last to know? Farrell was kind enough to say only nice things about a rotten apple.

How obtuse can these guys be? Obviously Ellsbury was not close to anyone on the team. He did not email, text, call, send a telegram, skywrite, or even drop a dime on an old fashioned telephone to anyone with the Red Sox.

He let them know the old-fashioned way: through the ever-sensitive media. Police authorities when dealing with the demise of a family member usually inform next of kin. But, this band of brothers, just back from a World Series victory, never heard the distant drums.

Ellsbury seldom spoke to anyone on the Sox. All during the chicken and beer years, he sat silently watching. All during the Bobby Valentine fiasco, he sat in the tall grass, observing the catastrophes and never lifting a finger to exert a veteran presence.

No one in Boston knew Ellsbury. Did he really have a personality? He was like a guerilla double agent behind enemy lines. He was a chameleon wearing Red Sox socks for business reasons, but switching to another uniform without missing a beat.

If the Yankees think they have bought loyalty, commitment, and a healthy outlook, they may be in for their own state of shock. Then, again, the Yankees are numb from this sort of player and to this sort of player–thanks to A-Rod.

Kiss off Jacoby Ellsbury, fans, and count your blessings that he is gone.


To relive the happier times for the Red Sox, be sure to read RED SOX 2013: NAKED CAME THE LINEUP. The roots of the Ellsburu case can be found there. Available in softcover and ebook at

Jacoby Ellsbury Signs Pact with Devil


Mr. Applegate’s Protege


All those dyed in the wool Jacoby Ellsbury fans have died a little overnight. 

The Red Sox, once again, had their thunder stolen and now have egg on their face. The Big ‘N Toasted Egg Sandwich has left the Sox toasted.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus—and he’s an owner of the New York Yankees.

In a town where leaving for your archrival is a sure path to hell, Ellsbury has joined the Damn Yankees where his agent is the latest incarnation of Mr. Applegate.

Scott Boras may have employed Lola to seduce the little man, but like a dozen other Red Sox players going back to the cursed Bambino, we know that justice will prevail. Alas, we may have to wait to the Afterlife to see Ellsbury receive his just desserts.

In the meantime the pie-in-the-face moment is fairly funny. Since Ellsbury is incapable of growing a real beard, he has no worry about the Yankee dictum that no man shall have a beard.

Move over, Babe Ruth and Mickey Mantle: there is now a new pipsqueak to carry your cletes into the centerfielder’s prime real estate.

The grass always looks greener in the Yankee backyard, but we know that it is built over a septic system. Ellsbury has only now begun to step into the daily muck and mire.

The number of Red Sox turncoats is Legion. It just adds to the Hollywood script. Athens and Sparta continue their war into another century. Red Sox And Yankees redux. Mark your calendars, Sox fans, for the bonfire of vanities to burn those Ellsbury jerseys.

To relive the great season of the Red Sox, read RED SOX 2013: NAKED CAME THE LINEUP. Now available on You can see the roots of Ellsbury’s plan to depart amid the Sox success.

Love Life Advice from Larry Lucchino


 ImageVeteran on Road to Glue Factory

At the premiere of the Red Sox championship documentary at the Wang Center in Boston, Red Sox muckety-muck and all-round hoi polloi buster, Larry Lucchino offered advice to fans and media.

He told assembled throngs not to fall in love with their veteran players. It’s been a major problem with the Red Sox for years and years.

Apparently love is only for rookies. No wonder Xavier Bogaerts has a guaranteed job next season—and Stephen Drew has drawn the short straw.

Of course, Larry has had his dalliances and May/December bromances, notably with David Ortiz. His overblown contract to Big Papi was roundly criticized at the start of last season—but now looks like social security for the Red Sox organization.

Lucchino’s words also sound ominous for Mike Napoli, a veteran with a hip problem. Though he is as comfy as an old shoe, and has a beard like Santa Claus, Napoli has forced Larry to keep his options open. It may be nap time for Nappi, not loving delight in the afternoon.

Since Larry also mentioned Jackie Bradley, Junior, as one of his young infatuations, we can fairly much extrapolate that Jacoby Ellsbury may have already received his “Dear John” letter.

Because of his boyish charm and eternally youthful looks, Jacoby may be looking at the West Coast and landing in Los Angeles where the price of romance is never an issue.

Lucchino also compared his job to working on the railroad.

In that vein, he has driven a golden spike into the hopes of older players everywhere with his comments. Let’s hope he changes his mind and enjoys his Roman Spring like Mrs. Stone with veterans once again.


 Fans infatuated with the World Champion Red Sox may want to read RED SOX 2013: NAKED CAME THE LINEUP, the human interest book that gives the real behind-the-scenes look at the season of the beard. Available on in softcover and ebook for smart readers.

Go West, Hopalong Ellsbury



Cardinal Ellsbury?


The sun is setting on the Boras campfire, and Boy Scout/Deputy Sheriff Jacoby Ellsbury was on a plane out of town like he had been given an ultimatum by his agent.

Next time Boston fans see him, Hopalong Ellsbury may be playing for some Western division team in the National League.

If Fenway Park looks like the OK Corral nowadays, it is because the gunslingers are looking at free agency and ready to hire out at some other desperado town.

Ellsbury used to ride a white horse, and now he slinks out of town in a hired jet. It’s faster than a silver bullet.

Dudley Do-Right John Farrell kissed Hopalong off as well as the horse he rode out on. Town Boss King John Henry VIII is not about to empty the bank vaults, no matter how many robber barons enter the Fenway Cathedral with guns ablaze.

No need to call for Shane to come back because Shane Victorino is still here for a few more years as is the Lone Ranger Johnny Gomes.

High Noon comes on Monday this season when Judge Larry Lucchino will decide who stays and who goes.

You can find the Texans—Buchholz, Lester, and Lackey—at the saloon bar clubhouse with beers and gold nuggets.

We are left with more than seven magnificent players, and the Beantown will be safe again next season.


For a complete account in humorous chronological order, read RED SOX 2013: NAKED CAME THE LINEUP to relive the thrilling season. Now on in softcover or ebook.

Rajon Rondo May Win This Year’s ‘Angst’ Award


                                                    Garbo Award Winner Rondo Now In Running for ‘Angst’ Award

Rajon Rondo won’t say when he will return from ACL surgery by date, but he knows when he will be ready. Unfortunately, no one else does.

Rondo may find himself the next in line for the Rob Gronkowski Award for playing the Lady in Waiting to the Media.

If Rondo has paid attention to the hue and cry about Gronk’s long-awaited return, he knows that each year the Boston media selects someone to offer them the newly minted “Angst” award, given to the player who seems to milk his injury beyond anything predicted by the medical staff callers on the local radio talk shows.

The “Angst” has been given several times to Jacoby Ellsbury, and he may retire into the Boston Hall of Fame of long-gone injured players when Scott Boras takes this award to Seattle to show Ellsbury’s value.

The Red Sox also had a winner in David Ortiz last year. His Achilles tendon won the least supporting actor in the worst year that the Sox have had in a generation. As a reward for his award, Ortiz was given a two-year megacontract by Sox ownership. It has paid dividends.

Of course, Sox fans expected Mike Napoli to be this year’s leading candidate for the coveted “Angst” for his necrosis of the hips, but he confounded everyone by playing more games in a season than in his entire career.

So, it is time the award went to another sport. Danny Amendola was immediately handicapped as the second Patriot to win the accolades for missing nearly every game with the New England football team, making Belichick’s decision to cast off Iron Man Wes Welker look like Seward’s Folly.

The dark horse to succeed Gronk now turns out to be the mercurial Celtics star, Rajon Rondo. Playing coy and temperamental makes Rondo perhaps the most fascinating “Angst” nominee of the past few years.

Rondo is, of course, day-to-day, practicing and waiting for doctor’s clearance. This is the standard patter from every winner of the past decade.

Many have noted that Rondo has won the prestigious “Garbo Award” in Boston for several years running. The “Angst” will be given for not running.

And the Winner is Jacoby Ellsbury for His Role in a Continuing Soap Opera…


You can put a number of labels on Jacoby Ellsbury.

His fan-base is pushing for the Sox to sign the center fielder to a long-term, back-breaking, nutso contract on the lines of Carl Crawford. However, Scott Boras thinks the Crawford money is too puny for his star client.

The Maginot Line has been drawn by the burned Red Sox, and you can expect Boras to ignore it. Ellsbury will walk down the red carpet in glass slippers to accept his accolades in the off-season. Nowadays Ellsbury is glad Robinson Cano has Jay-Z for an agent. There is more money for him in the Bronx.

In the meantime, we feel compelled to start labeling our soon to be Yankee turncoat who was out again in the big Yankee series this past summer, perhaps realizing where he would end up. No, it was not his limp wrist that sidelined him. He seems to have stubbed his toe in a slide on the opening game with the Bronx Bombers. Now medical experts say he has a fracture in a small bone.

Here are the catchphrases on the envelope protected by Price Waterhouse and Scott Boras.

Fragile! Play With Care! You should always realize that Jacoby may not play, even if you take care. Boras does not deal in damaged goods.

Do Not Sign Until Christmas. Scott Boras never gives Xmas gifts, and Ellsbury will not be in anyone’s stocking until the winter solstice.

Return to Sender. We feel that what’s good for Beckett, Crawford, and Gonzalez, is just what Ellsbury deserves. Send him back to the West Coast from where he hails. All his doctors are back there, but he prefers the clean-shaven look of New York Yankees.

Insufficent Postage. Scott Boras will return all Red Sox offers with this stamped on the envelope.

Open Other End. When the Red Sox need help, they will go to the farm teams where Jackie Bradley, Jr., is another Boras client awaiting his turn to demand millions for defense, but not one cent for tribute.

In the meantime, we wait for the envelope like the Oscars or Emmys depended on it. Will the Red Sox win the prize with a $200million contract given to the Boras knight-in-dented-armor? Or will Neil Patrick Harris laugh at them. Neither, the Cashman of New York bankrolled Jacoby’s vanity for seven years.