YFSF

Diehards at the Fens

This is a picture my mom recently found, of Fred Lynn (as if any Sox fan of the past 40 years needs that pointed out!), my childhood friend Amy S., and me, at the Fens.  It hung on my wall, above my bed, for the bulk of my junior high school, high school, and college years and was mothballed when my parents re-did my room after I moved out, with my Sox and Bruins pennants and most other sports paraphernalia banished to the attic. Luckily this one survived.

For a few years running we were able to get down on the field via the Sox' press secretary, a friend of my grandfather's, and get a picture snapped.   In 1974 at the age of 5 I got a moment with Yaz (Mom needs to start digging to find that one, though I know it still exists!), in 1980 it was Freddie during his last year with the Sox.   Lynn was, with Pudge Fisk, in my top two, though a pretty distant second.

Sartorially the Sox uniform still does the trick, quite obviously.  Amy wisely chose an outfit that easily stands the test of time, conservative and mature.  But what the hell was up with my choice of a wide-banded white-collared navy blue cardigan?  Fenway security should have turned me away -- for the Yankee colors alone.

June 16, 1986

On that date, Jamie Moyer made his debut as a 23-year-old starter for the Chicago Cubs, earning a no-decision in a game the Cubs went on to win. Mr. Moyer just re-signed with the Phillies for two years. Pretty cool.

Dustin Pedroia's Place in History

Instinctively, I feel Dustin Pedroia just completed one of the great seasons in Red Sox history. He won the MVP, of course, led the league in hits and runs, finished second in batting, crushed a whopping 54 doubles and posted a staggering number of extra-base hits and times on base, particularly given his light-hitting position of second base.

While the season was still ongoing, I thought we might be seeing the best season by a Red Sox second baseman ever. In the cool light of December, I'm not so sure.

My goal is to rank Pedroia in with the rest of the Top 50 seasons, assuming he belongs there. The only season by a second baseman currently represented is Bobby Doerr's 1944, in which he posted a 165 OPS+. Since then, no Red Sox second baseman has even topped 135. I'm inclined to discount that season a bit because of the inferior wartime competition, but it's worth noting Pedroia's OPS+ this year was just 123. Now, OPS+ isn't everything, but it was a general tool I used for ranking the Top 50, and even accounting for the war, that's a huge gap. Pedroia actually ends up sixth on the list of Sox second basemen in OPS+ since Doerr's big season. Doerr holds three of those spots, Mike Andrews holds one and John Valentin holds the fifth.

Did Dustin Pedroia have a better season in 2008 than Valentin in 1997 or Mike Andrews in 1969? I think so. But does that still qualify him for ranking in the Top 50, where the bottom two offensive season were Wade Boggs in 1988 and David Ortiz in 2007 (which is almost certainly too low)?

How about you decide. Below is the list of the Top 50, as I ranked them last offseason. I'm interested not only in where Pedroia fits on that list -- if he fits at all -- but if there are any other changes you would make.

Playtime! Bunting with the Scooter

Rummaging around some old things yesterday in the family archive, I came across this old gem from my youth, an instructional record on bunting by Phil Rizzuto. I thought it had been forever lost. I can't wait to listen to it, as soon as I can hook up the old record player. (And I'll try to get an MP3 together here shortly.) As I wrote after the Scooter passed away last year, this was one of my favorite records as a child. I listened to it over and over again, laying down the drags and sacs in my parents' living room, dodging the coffee table (home) on my way to the ottoman (first base). There was something intrinsically optimistic about its message of easy self-improvement, and the bright red disc with its funky typography, beanie-style cap, and hip shades reinforced that positive feeling. That, of course, was Rizzuto in a nutshell: a plucky little guy, impossible not to love.

Studs Terkel: 1912–2008

The great Studs Terkel—prolific historian, essayist, broadcaster, and champion of the little guy—died yesterday, a hard blow to American letters, and to the many Americans who'd been touched by his sweet but rumbly voice, both on paper and through the airwaves. Studs was a great baseball fan; he even appeared as a reporter in Eight Men Out. Fitting that his last World Series featured the Phillies, a team even older than Studs himself, and one with a similar working-class pedigree. He'll be missed.

The Natural

Who is the greatest living batsman? You could make a reasonable case for Manny, for A-Rod, for Albert Pujols; for Barry Bonds; for Hammerin' Hank. All reasonable choices, to be sure, but given population figures there's probably a greater constituency for the man pictured above, the great Indian cricketer Sachin Tendulkar. Last week, Tendulkar became the all-time scoring leader in "test" cricket after scoring his 12,000 career run. The righty from Mumbai was a child prodigy at the sport, like Manny, and is admired especially for his beautiful, textbook form. Baseball and cricket are cousins (baseball is not a derivation of cricket, a common misconception) that require mastery of the difficult art of placing bat on a whizzing ball. Putting aside our chauvinist ideas about the superior game, surely we can all appreciate those in either sport who can perform that feat with consistent excellence.

Smoke 'Em If You Got 'Em

The Dodgers (seen here in their Brooklyn days) and the Rays got "toasted" yesterday. Despite more theatrics from Manny, LA could not overcome the Phils in the early game, and the Rays couldn't get anything across (and for most of the game, even a hit) against Dice-K in the nightcap. Those Dodgers are now down 2-0. Sox and Rays go at it again tonight. The players may still pack their gums with chaw, but at least you wont see spots linking the old pastime and cigarettes during the game. We've come a long way, baby!

Courtesy Bobster via GL.

So Long Old Friend: Yankee Stadium, 1923-2008

Every member of this organization, past and present, has been calling this place home for 85 years, There’s a lot of tradition, a lot of history and a lot of memories. Now the great thing about memories is you’re able to pass it along from generation to generation. Although things are going to change next year. We’re going to move across the street. There are a few things that New York Yankees that never change. That’s pride, tradition and most of all we have the greatest fans in the world. We want you to take the memories from this stadium, add them to the new memories that come at the new Yankee Stadium and continue to pass them along from generation to generation. So on behalf of the entire organization, we want to take this moment to salute you, the greatest fans in the world.—Derek Jeter

Bobby Murcer, 1956–2008

Last year it was the Scooter. Today, the Yankee broadcasting booth lost another legend with the death of Bobby Murcer, after a long fight with brain cancer. Murcer was the very epitome of a Yankee, a lifer whose heart remained with the team even when he was playing elsewhere, and who returned for good after his days on the field ended. He was born in Oklahoma City, and as a prospect was annointed the heir apparent to fellow Sooner Mickey Mantle, an impossible standard. He had a fine career, even if it fell short of those early expectations. In 1971 he was brilliant (.331/.427/.543) but on a lousy team. Four years later the Yankees traded him to San Francisco for Bobby Bonds, a deal that was a bitter disappointment for him. After two seasons playin with the temporarily relocated Yanks at Shea, he missed the inauguration of the refurbished Yankee Stadium. The Yanks could take Murcer out of the pinstripes, but they couldn't take the pinstripes out of Murcer. His first baseball card as a Giant [above on the right] pictured him standing with a forlorn look at Yankee Stadium, a sloppily airbrushed SF on his cap. He finally made it back to the Yanks in 1979. His most memorable moment came that year, when he got the walk-off hit in the game immediately following the funeral of Thurman Munson, at which he gave the eulogy.

As a broadcaster, Murcer did not have the deep reservoir of anecdotal material of Jim Kaat, and he wasn't especially skilled at breaking down the tactical game. But he had that most important quality for an announcer: an easy affability that made it a pleasure to spend a couple of hours with him, watching the game. His voice was a sweet Oklahama drawl; the aural equivalent of a lazy summer afternoon. I met him once, back in the late 1980s, when I was an intern for Yankees magazine. We took an elevator ride together from the press entrance at the ballpark up to the administrative level. He was wearing white pants and a green plaid jacket, which reflected his outgoing personality. He went out of his way to greet every employee he passed, as if it were second nature. That was unusual in that environment.

In a sad parallel of his career, Bobby won't be around to see Yankee Stadium when it opens next season. It would have been nice to have him there, to add a little genuine Yankee tradition to place where so much is being invented new. He will be missed.

Jules Tygiel, 1949–2008

We're a bit remiss in posting a note on the passing of the historian Jules Tygiel, who died earlier this month in California, where he was a professor at San Francisco State. Tygiel was born in Brooklyn, and will always be best remembered for his wonderful biography of Jackie Robinson, Baseball's Great Experiment. He was the author of several books on baseball and Robinson (among other subjects), all required of any sports library. Beyond his work on Robinson, we can be grateful to Tygiel for demonstrating that baseball, and sports generally, are subjects worthy of academic study that tell us a great deal about our culture and ourselves. He will be missed.