Big Papi Survives Assassin Bullet!

DATELINE: Celebrities Face Russian Roulette!


An assassination attempt on the life of Red Sox legend David Ortiz, known in the baseball world as Big Papi, is vaguely reminiscent of the attack on the life of John Lennon or Tupac Shakur.

Those two chilling actions of murder put a damper forever on how celebrities interacted with the public. Now, again, the fame or infamy of sports stars—and their relative accessibility to the general public may shut down appearances in informal settings.

David Ortiz has lived under a lucky star as athlete and pop hero. Next to Gronk, he is a New England fixture and dizzy icon.

Big Papi is enormously popular in Boston, and in fact was expected to attend a charity event in town this week. He keeps a high profile in the New England area, mainly owing to product endorsements and advertising, which likely provides income and attention.

However, Big Papi also put his local house up for sale this week in the Greater Boston suburbs. He was shot in the back in his native Dominican Republic, not Boston.

He became an American citizen a few years ago, and also defended Boston at a ceremony after the Boston Marathon bombing a few years back.

He was shot in the back by an assailant who clearly meant to kill him. The bullet went through his stomach. The shooter on a motorcycle, or someone presumed to be the gunman, was attacked by an incensed crowd at the night club where Ortiz had appeared.

Those familiar with the two countries sharing an island in the Caribbean call the DR a dangerous place. Americans have died there recently in mysterious hotel incidents.

What is clear is that the violence of the world and the social media attention celebrities receive internationally has made a new wrinkle for assaults or assassinations by deranged individuals with a sense of entitlement.

Big Papi may well survive this attack, but he will never be the same—nor will sports stars who may find themselves paying a heavy price for fame and bodyguards.

Carl Crawford Opines on Pablo Sandoval’s Boston Crisis

 DATELINE: Coming from Hunger

Try as we might, we cannot forget one of the worst players who even wore a Boston Red Sox uniform for the most money ever paid. Carl Crawford had a contract for $140million, but always looked like two bits.

He hated Boston and was happy to be shipped off to Shanghai Los Angeles where he has more or less flourished in LA LA Land where no one cares how much you screw up or make in salary.

So, never forgiving, nor forgetting, Carl Crawford once again answered the clarion call for a comment on Boston and the latest scandal: the 800-pound Pablo Sandoval. “It definitely eats at you,” Crawfish noted without acknowledging that Pablo eats at everything.

When the media turns on a player, in Crawford’s eyes, the end is near. One of the biggest whiners in Boston sports history, Crawford said: “We as men can’t whine.”

Crawford made a big play for sympathy for big men with big salaries. It didn’t wash when he was here, and it seems like he wants to hang the Sox out to dry again.

The worst villain since Shakespeare created Shylock and his request for a pound of flesh, Crawford made an impassioned plea to fans and abnormal Red Sox fans that he too was human.

Shylock said, “If you prick us, do we not bleed?” And to win favor, Crawford noted, how superstardom pricks at him. “We bleed too.”

What better analogy could we draw than one an ignoramus makes on himself without knowing? We doubt that Carl Crawford ever heard of Shylock, that expert in usury. Crawford also took advantage of economic times and lived to tell. His unworthy $140million bucks makes him completely unsympathetic.

Red Sox and Yankees: Pretenders Take the Field


It simply does not feel like the Yankees and Red Sox are actually playing. There are imposters on the field and in the stands.

The carnival crowd at Fenway Park may have been unduly lulled into catalepsy by the heat wave of late July. Yet, we are left with a feel that the Yankees have not been to Fenway at all this season so far.

And this motley crew does not look remotely like the Yankees. Joe Girardi is there, but he looks shell-shocked.

Then again, the Red Sox seem to play without an edge. They are too full of character and team spirit to have personal animosities with those nobodies playing on the Yankees.

Pregame interviews had new Red Sox like Gomes and Napoli talking about the excitement of playing for the Sox against the Yankees at Fenway. We hate to disabuse them, but this is not what a classic Sox-Yankee rivalry looks like.

Felix Doubront is the Sox Yankee slayer. Who?

There is no A-Rod, no Jeter, and heaven knows, there is no Youkilis. Oh, they have a robotic automaton that is now being called Mariano Rivera, but we all know that is genetic engineering creating some kind of replicant.

We know the Red Sox are out of character when the big hitter leading the team in average is Jose Iglesias, and Will Middlebrooks is languishing in limbo with Daniel Bard.

Who can complain about a team in first place? Yet, there should be fireworks with the Yankees breathing down their necks. Alas, say it ain’t so, Joe Girardi.

To reminisce about the old days, try reading RED SOX 2011: A WHIMSICAL AUTOPSY. It’s available for nostalgic readers on

Nostradamus Forgot to Give the Red Sox a Quatrain



Red Sox fans had better prepare for extreme disappointment this upcoming season.

We cannot even provide a few pathetic rhymes for this peek into the future, though we looked deeply into our dog-earred copy of the prophecies of Nostradamus.

The powers that be have now rolled the dice on their cockamamie Pollyanna attitudes, and the rest as they say will be skirting disaster.

Let us count the ways the Sox have thrown fans off the bridge for the year-to-come.

The ownership invested millions in David Ortiz whose career may be at a crossroads between an Achilles heel and plantar fasciitis.

The powerful limited partnership decided to keep Jacoby Ellsbury one more year before he bails and leaves them with the taste of ashes. Yet, Ellsbury is notoriously fragile, sort of like one of the glass menagerie. Look for a broken unicorn around midseason.

The front office re-enlisted John Lackey for another season when all his cohorts were sent packing for their bad attitudes. The Sox have apparently given him a magic elixir to alter his personality. A magic bullet might have been a better choice.

Money was no object this season, except when it came to signing a big star. The Sox spent star money on character actors like Johnny Gomes and Shane Victorino. They may pan out, or they may just be panned.

The Sox signed J.D. Drew’s younger brother, Stephen, hoping he is more like Sherlock and less like Mycroft.

And Mike Napoli will do his best Dick Stuart imitation. The Sox kept Alfredo Aceves on the roster because someone likes to see “Satan in his eyes.”

As if adding insult to injury were merely icing on the cake, the heralded prospect Jose Iglesias was hung out to dry after putting all the wet laundry in his basket last season.

The team put all its razz-matazz into Will Middlebrooks, whose wrists are about as thin in strength as a #2 pencil, and they predict a home run rampage on the order of Gary Geiger.

This spring is in full bloom, and the smell of victory may be cross-pollinated with the agony of defeat. The Red Sox will be on a voyage to where no man may return.





Carl Crawford Offers $140million for His Thoughts, Not a Penny More


We’ve got Carl Crawford where we want him.

Crawford has something stuck in his craw, and it’s the Boston media. In his weekly dump on Boston, this time he complained vociferously about the media.

Grousing season has begun, and it is open season on perennially injured non-superstars.

We feel like the Geico gazelles with nightvision goggles on. We see you Carl, warts and all.

The man who put Red Sox flopperoo of 1962, Roman Meijias, to shame, fails to see his own flip flop of 2012.

At least Meijias lasted two full seasons before he bailed out on the infamous Sox teams. Meijias disappeared after his jail sentence with the Boston media. Not so for Crawford who continues to ask for more parole hearings than one of the Manson gang.

This time Carl contends that Boston has the worst media he ever experienced in his life. Well, it’s certainly a two-way street as Boston media never saw a worse $140million dollar bust.

Crawford believes everyone in Boston wanted to see him fail from the get-go. Problem is, Carl. You never had a get-go. He was DOA, kaput, and damaged goods.

If there ever was a money-back guarantee, the Red Sox needed it when the slowest speedster in Sox history put on the brakes.

Now Crawford is not performing on the field in Los Angeles, but he has created a cottage industry as a grouser in La-La Land. It will make him close to $140million for sure.



Tito Francona Bites the Sexy Back of the Red Sox


The French Revolution caused heads to roll, but that may be nothing compared to the new book by Terry Francona, the former Red Sox manager done dirt by ownership.

King John Henry VIII, principal owner of the Red Sox yacht called the S.S. Minnow, is to be cast adrift by Boston fans like Captain Bligh.

Tom Werner, another of the Three Stooges Owners and Cosby Show producer, wanted sexy back—and urged the team to find good looking players to please the fans, which no doubt led to the Red Sox marketing department to say Jacoby Ellsbury had a large gay fan base.

Larry Lucchino, the enforcer of the threesome, may need to break the legs of any one at NESN who mentions the new Francona book. Francona noted that the owners’ TV network required more exciting ways to win baseball games for better ratings.

With a handful of excerpts hitting the sports media market, the Sox ownership has found its wish-come-true: they have a soap opera story to appeal to fans.

Boston sports media has an uncanny ability to smell one drop of blood in an ocean as big as Red Sox Nation—and right now the Sox franchise is hemorrhaging through every orifice. Mack the Knife could not have done a better job on John Henry’s crew.

If ever there was an impetus to sell the Red Sox, the ownership has found themselves in dry dock while the ship searches for leaks.

Expect a new reality series, exclusively shown on the Sox cable TV network in which good-looking, pleasant guys in the locker room will take lots of showers. It’s getting their sexy back.