Tigers-Red Sox Opening Day...Remember what happened in '86?

The first hint that 1986 was going to be a special year (hey, they did win the pennant) for the Red Sox came on Opening Day at old Tiger Stadium, when leadoff man Dwight Evans hammered the first pitch from Jack Morris for a home run. Since the game was the first of the season on the MLB schedule, this gave Dewey a unique record that can never be broken -- the "earliest" homer ever to start a season.

Now, as the Sox and Tigers prepare to square off in Detroit to start the 2012 season, it seems an appropriate time to reflect on Evans, one of the greatest Red Sox players of all time and one of the most underrated in baseball history. I could go on and on about what Dewey belongs in the Hall of Fame, but my friend Patrick Languzzi can do that far better than me. Check out Patrick's brand-new blog at http://call2thehall.blogspot.com/ and see the fantastic case he makes for enshrining this world-class right fielder and hitter in Cooperstown.

Let the games begin.

Where does Ellsbury's 2011 rank among all-time Red Sox lead-off seasons?

We're all wondering what Bobby Valentine's Opening Day lineup is going to look like, and while the new skipper isn't divulging anything yet, there is speculation among fans that Jacoby Ellsbury will be vacating the lead-off spot. If he does, he'll be a tough No. 1 man to top.

The Sox were a major disappointment in 2011, but Ellsbury -- already a proven hitter and two-time stolen base champ -- emerged as a superstar. The fleet center fielder batted .321 with 32 homers, 39 steals, and 105 RBI, great numbers for anybody but outstanding for someone who spent 144 of his 158 games atop the batting order. When the rest of the team was free-falling, he hit .358 with 8 homers in September.

Throw in his Gold Glove, and it's no surprise Ells was runner up to Justin Verlander in the MVP voting. How does Ellsbury's season rank among the best by Red Sox leadoff man in history? Let's take a look at the Top 10:

10. Patsy Dougherty, 1903:  http://www.baseball-reference.com/players/d/doughpa01.shtml When talking great Sox leadoff men, it makes sense to start with one of the first. Dougherty patrolled left field for Boston at the old Huntington Avenue Grounds, and in 1903 he helped the Sox (then known as the Americans) to the AL pennant with a .331 average and a league-best 195 hits and 107 runs scored. 


He wasn't done yet. In the first modern World Series that followed, Dougherty hit Boston's only two home runs as the Sox prevailed in eight games over Pittsburgh. 

9. Jerry Remy, 1982: http://www.baseball-reference.com/players/r/remyje01.shtml The Fall River, Mass. native was just 25 when he first suited up for the Red Sox, but injuries prevented the speedy, steady second baseman from a lengthy career. The '82 season was an exception, as the 5'8" Remy managed to get into 155 games and bat .280 with 16 steals from the top of the order.

8. Rick Burleson, 1977: http://www.baseball-reference.com/players/b/burleri01.shtml The "Rooster" did not have the speed of a prototypical leadoff man, but this slick-fielding shortstop with a rifle arm was the Dustin Pedroia of his day—a 165-pound hell-raiser who was always at the center of the action. In '77, setting the table for a powerful Red Sox lineup that led the majors with 213 home runs, Burleson hit .293 with his usual stellar defense.

7. Harry Hooper, 1918: http://www.baseball-reference.com/players/h/hoopeha01.shtml Hooper covered the right side of Boston's "Golden Outfield" that also included left fielder Duffy Lewis and center fielder Tris Speaker. A consistent .280 hitter with speed and outstanding defensive skills, Hooper led off for four World Series champions in Boston—more than any other Red Sox player.

In 1918 he hit just .235, but was among the American League’s top 10 in doubles, triples, runs scored and stolen bases as Boston claimed its last Series win of the pre-curse era. In 1971, Hooper made the Hall of Fame.

6. Wade Boggs, 1984: http://www.baseball-reference.com/players/b/boggswa01.shtml Wade Boggs usually batted second or third in the Red Sox lineup, but in '84 the future Hall of Famer was predominantly

in the leadoff spot in front of sluggers Dwight Evans, Jim Rice and Tony Armas. 

This was actually an "off" year for Boggs at the plate, as The Chicken Man batted .325 to finish third in the American League. It was the only year between 1983-88 that he didn't win the AL batting title, but he still had his customary 200 hits and 100 runs scored—good enough numbers to make this list.

5. Billy Weber, 1934: http://www.baseball-reference.com/players/w/werbebi01.shtml Among the first of many players purchased by new Red Sox owner Tom Yawkey in 1933-34, third baseman Werber (on left above, with manager Joe Cronin) had a terrific debut season at Fenway—leading the AL in batting, stolen bases and runs scored for most of the '34 season atop the Boston order.

A broken toe suffered when he kicked a heavy water bucket in the dugout after a bad at-bat slowed Werber down late in the year, but he still finished with a .321 average, 200 hits, 41 doubles, 10 triples and a league-best 40 steals. He later topped another impressive list, achieving status as the oldest former major leaguer before his January 2009 death at age 100.

4. Dom DiMaggio, 1950: http://www.baseball-reference.com/players/d/dimagdo01.shtml Usually considered by those who saw them all play to be the best defensive player among the three slick-fielding DiMaggio brothers—and one of the best center fielders in history—Dom was also an exceptional leadoff man for the great near-miss Red Sox teams of 1946-50.

The 1950 season was no exception, as the "Little Professor" led the AL with 131 runs scored, 11 triples and 15 stolen bases while batting .328 setting the table for buddies Johnny Pesky, Ted Williams and Bobby Doerr. If it had not been for the three years he spent in the service during World War II, Dom might have joined Bobby, Ted and brother Joe in the Hall of Fame.

3. Tommy Harper, 1973: http://www.baseball-reference.com/players/h/harpeto01.shtml After Werber's 40 steals in 1934, it took nearly 40 years for another Red Sox player to crack the 30 mark in one season. When he did, Harper was far from finished.

The left fielder swiped 54 bags as Boston's lead-off man in '73, breaking Tris Speaker's 1912 team record of 52 and leading the American League. Harper also hit with power, cracking 17 homers and collecting 71 RBI. Like Speaker, his team steals record would stand a long time—until obliterated by Ellsbury's 70 in 2009.

2. Nomar Garciaparra, 1997: http://www.baseball-reference.com/players/g/garcino01.shtml Before he became a chiseled Sports Illustrated cover boy, Nomar Garciaparra started out his big-league life as a lean leadoff man during his rookie year of 1997.

Everybody knew he had a strong glove, but the shortstop amazed everyone with his bat. He had 30 home runs and 98 RBI—the latter a record for a leadoff batter—and led the AL with 209 hits and 11 triples. He also scored 122 runs, had 22 stolen bases and had a 30-game hit streak. "Nomah" was a unanimous choice for Rookie of the Year, and his days as a leadoff man were soon over.

1. Jacoby Ellsbury, 2011: http://www.baseball-reference.com/players/e/ellsbja01.shtml It's hard for a No. 1 batter to top a year like Nomah had in '97, but Ellsbury gets the edge for his '11 campaign.

In becoming the first 30-30 man in the 110-year history of the Red Sox, Ellsbury led the AL with 364 total bases and compiled a .552 slugging percentage. And while he couldn't edge out Justin Verlander for MVP, he was a runaway choice for AL Comeback Player of the Year after playing in just 18 games during 2010 due to injuries.

Will Ells be back atop the Boston order in 2012, or will his potent bat tempt Valentine to drop him down a few slots to the middle of the lineup? As of early March, Bobby V. isn't saying.

Tek, Wake, and the March to Middle Age

Clearing snow off my windshield in the shadow of Fenway Park, I listened to Jason Varitek’s retirement speech on the cranked-up car radio. Tek’s voice cracked at the mention of his daughters and teammates, and I felt something crack inside me as well.

At the time I thought it was just sadness over a second two-time Red Sox champion hanging up his spikes in as many weeks. In retrospect, I realized it was something far more meaningful.

As a just-miss baby boomer born in April of 1967, my life as a Sox fan can be measured through the careers of four special players.

From the time I played with hot wheels through the time I got my first real wheels, Carl Yastrzemski was spinning his bat and tugging at his pants in the Fenway batter’s box. The spring after Yaz hung up his cleats in ’83, a brash young flamethrower from Texas emerged to provide great thrills for the next dozen years – blowing away batters as I moved through high school, college, and my early years as a sportswriter. 

I was often far from Boston in those days, but even in the sticks of Jamesville, New York, or Frederick, Maryland, a glance at a newspaper pitching line that started with “Clemens” was all I needed to feel the rush of Yawkey Way. I eventually scored a big-city job and a relationship I thought would last forever; when the latter didn't, I left the former and returned to Boston and the next phase of my life.

This was the summer of '95. Rumors were swirling that Clemens would be leaving town at season's end, and I was among the horde giving him a standing ovation as he left what would be his last Fenway start that September. But as one pitching stalwart departed, another emerged.

Tim Wakefield was more flutter than fire, but he still made hitters look foolish in starting his Red Sox career 14-1. He was also just a few months older than myself, and since he looked and acted more like a “regular guy” than a star ballplayer, I took an instant liking to him. He took my mind off my heartbreak.

Just a month after Wake and the Sox were bounced from the playoffs that fall, I met my wife. And just a month after we got engaged in June of '97, Boston GM Dan Duquette made the heist of the decade in picking up pitcher Derek Lowe and catcher Jason Varitek from the Mariners for underachieving bullpen ace Heathcliff Slocumb.

Wakefield and Varitek would remain with the team through the next 15 seasons -- a period of dramatic change for the team and myself. I got married, bought a house, and watched the birth of my children just a few blocks from Fenway. I didn't name my son Jason (born in spring training of 2001) after Boston's gritty catcher, but I didn't mind if some people thought so. And when the Red Sox rallied to beat the Blue Jays the night of my daughter's August 16, 2004, birth, and on the next day as well behind a Varitek home run, it started a 22-3 stretch I deemed "The Rachel Effect."

Rachel and Jason were both watching with me when Varitek leaped into Keith Foulke's arms that October, and again when Tek and Jonathan Papelbon danced for joy three years later. Wakefield was also a big part of those World Series teams, of course, and my respect for him grew as I became a firsthand witness to the time and joy he brought young cancer patients in the Jimmy Fund Clinic at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. This, I explained to my kids, was the sign of a real hero.

Most people hoped their trips to Fenway coincided with a Pedro Martinez or Jon Lester start, and while I certainly enjoyed watching these men at work, I also loved seeing Wake take the hill. You never knew what you were going to get, nor did the batters, but his efforts were a lesson in determination. Varitek was also a pleasure to observe, as much for his take-charge attitude behind the plate as for his clutch hitting.

Long before most people took notice of his growing victory total, I began telling my kids and anybody else who would listen that Wakefield had a chance to win more games than any other Red Sox pitcher. After all, I implored, fellow knuckleballer Hoyt Wilhelm had lobbed them up until he was nearly 50. I also had high hopes for Varitek managing to scrape together enough homers and All-Star selections to merit Hall of Fame consideration.

Neither of them quite reached these goals, but even if they don't make it to Cooperstown they both hold a special place on my list of all-time favorite Red Sox. Just as Yaz defined my youth and Clemens my early adulthood, Jason Varitek and Tim Wakefield carried me through to the cusp of middle age. I have far less hair and a few more pounds than in '97, but plenty of great memories.

Thanks for the ride.

  

Bobby Valentine's Spring Training: Shades of '67?

The era of good feeling is over. Let the boot camp begin.

Last season's September collapse by the Red Sox and the subsequent revelations about the team's in-game dining habits has resulted in a dramatic altering in the team's image. If you listened to sports radio over the past couple weeks, it was easy to pick up: fans are angry and want a change. Enough "Sweet Caroline" and waxing poetic about 2004 and '07; it's time for these underachievers to get serious.

Bobby Valentine, of course, must set the tone. In his first spring training as manager, he needs to let his players know that he's the boss and not their buddy. Tito Francona had a reputation as a "player's manager," a style fans loved as long as it worked. Last summer it apparently stopped working, and this is a prime reason ownership brought in Valentine. He rules more with an iron fist than a warm hug, and early indications are that his Florida sessions are going to be more Dick Williams than Terry Francona.

Those well-versed in Boston baseball history know the story. The Sox of the mid-1960s routinely finished near the bottom of the American League, and developed a reputation as a party-hearty crew that underachieved despite the presence of sluggers like Carl Yastrzemski, Tony Conigliaro, and Dick Stuart. Fans had largely given up on the team, and in the fall of '66 GM Dick O'Connell fired affable manager Billy Herman and brought in Williams -- a scrappy former utilityman for the club who sported the crew cut and demeanor of a Marine drill sergeant.

Williams made his mark immediately. He stripped Yaz of his captaincy -- saying that he was "the only chief of this team" -- and put the club through its paces in a spring training that felt more like basic training. There was a constant drilling of fundamentals, along with a strict evening curfew and 7 a.m. wake-up calls. When the other Williams in camp -- Red Sox immortal Ted Williams -- spent more time than Dick liked regaling players with his theories on hitting when they could have been running, the new skipper ordered him to stop. A miffed Ted left camp the next day.

The rookie boss had no trouble getting on players for making mistakes or not hustling, including stars like Yaz and Tony C. The troops grumbled, but when the season started it was clear that the methods had worked. The Sox played more of a hustling style of baseball, got contributions up and down the roster, and won back the hearts of their fans. They also won the pennant, as Williams' plaque in Cooperstown notes.


This is not 1967, of course, and today's players will not necessarily fall into line so easily. But last fall's fall suggests that a big change in attitude is needed, and Valentine sounds eerily like Dick Williams circa '67 when asked about how tough he plans to make things this spring. Here's an example: 

Dick Williams:  "I give 100 percent because I hate losing. And for those players who treat losing and failure lightly I will give them something else to hate -- ME. I try to make some players win just to show me up."


Bobby Valentine: "We all know that nobody likes change except for those who are making other people change to do what they want them to do. I happen to be one of those guys who likes change because guys are doing what I want them to do. I would bet there will be 100 guys who won't really like it because it's change for them. But they'll get used to it."


Time will tell, but it will likely make for a very interesting spring. And if the results turn out like '67, nobody will be complaining come October.

Card Stars: What singer and slugger were separated at birth?

With a few days to go until spring training, and not much big Red Sox news going on since Big Papi's signing, I figured the time was right to unveil what I hope will be a fun recurring little sideline on Fenway Reflections.

The working title is "Card Stars" -- if you have any better ideas, please let me know -- and it's my own version of "Separated at Birth." The idea is this: comb through a stack of baseball cards (any vintage), and stop when you find one that bears a striking resemblance to a celebrity from outside sports. If the player once called Fenway home, that's all the better.

In honor of Valentine's Day and the memory of Whitney Houston, who better to start with than a Hall of Fame duo that includes one guy with a trophy case full of Gold Gloves and another whose walls are filled with gold records. One guy who set the tempo for his team on the field and in the clubhouse during the 1980s and '90s, and one who set the mood for countless make-out sessions during the same period.

Got an idea?

OK, how about I give you the player, and you come up with the celebrity (and no peaking down below).

Sweet swinging Andre Dawson (sorry for the Cubs card, but it works best for this purpose)....

and....


Got a guess yet? .......





Sweet singing Lionel Richie!

What do you think? Am I crazy or right on? Let me know -- and if you have your own "Star Cards" candidates to offer up, bring 'em on!

Two great Tim Wakefield stories you probably have not heard

Since it appears that the Tim Wakefield era in Boston may be nearing its last hours, I thought it might be an appropriate time to tip my hat to one of my favorite all-time Red Sox by sharing two stories that show what kind of guy he is away from the field.

Wakefield came to the Sox in the spring of 1995, when Monica Lewinsky was a new intern at the White House and Jose Canseco was taking aim at the Coke bottles atop the Green Monster. Everybody knows what Wake did that summer -- starting his Boston career with a 14-1 mark and leading the Sox into the playoffs -- and even when his stats were far less gaudy in the 17 years that followed, he was a very valuable guy to have around. He started, closed, pitched long relief -- whatever the team needed.

In October of 2004, in the dismal final innings of Game 3 of the ALCS, I was among those shivering from behind the home dugout as Wake took one for the team and ate up precious innings during a 19-8 Yankees blowout. Those of us left when that game ended gave him a standing ovation, and by giving up his Game 4 start so others could rest, Tim paved the way for the eight straight wins that came next.

But you know all that stuff. Here's what you might not know. A few months later, the World Series trophy made one of its first stops on its all-New England winter/spring 2005 tour at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute (DFCI). The Red Sox and Dana-Farber's Jimmy Fund charity have a relationship going back nearly 60 years, which I've been lucky enough to be part of since '99 as a DFCI staff member. This was one of my greatest memories from that long tenure, for it was Wakefield who came to the hospital bearing the trophy. I was one of his tour guides as we strode onto a back-entrance elevator, and a few minutes later emerged in the Jimmy Fund Clinic -- surprising many pediatric cancer patients who were waiting for shots, chemotherapy, and other treatment.

For a few minutes these kids got to forget all about their cancer, as Wakefield walked around the room slowly and bent down so every patient no matter how small could get a good look at the trophy and his face. I've seen dozens of celebrities work this same room, and most of them go through quickly with a smile and a wave. Tim took time to stop and make every child and parent feel like he really cared about them. The youngest kids didn't even know who he was, but he was a big smiling man with a shiny trophy, so they were happy.

We expected the visit to end after this, but Wakefield asked if he could stay and visit with adult patients as well. This time there were some tears among the smiles, as people who had waited 20, 30, 50 years or more for a Red Sox championship suddenly had a once-in-a-lifetime chance to thank one of the guys who helped make it happen. It certainly wasn't how they expected their day at the hospital to go.

Our photographer took dozens of photos, of course, but as is our policy I stood out of the way no matter how tempting it was to sneak into the frame. After all, I had waited 37 years myself for a World Series title. Wake must have sensed this, for after he was finally done shaking hands and doling out hugs, he was about to breeze out to a waiting Town Car when he turned around and said, "Hey, do you want a picture?" He didn't have to ask me twice, and just like that I had my own memento from that memorable morning.

Fast forward to the summer of 2008. The teenagers from the Jimmy Fund Clinic were taking their annual baseball  road trip to see the Red Sox play away from Fenway -- this time in Chicago's U.S. Cellular Field. These trips are a chance for kids to share laughs and war stories with peers who know what they are going through, because they're going through it as well. Baseball, like cancer, is a common bond.

As is usually the custom, the teens came out to the ballpark early to meet with some Sox players before batting practice. Wakefield was always one of the guys who made the most time for kids during these sessions, and this day was no exception. He walked over to the railing separating the stands from the field and started chatting with the young fans.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bald-headed kid with crutches hopping on one leg about 10 rows back. It was clear that this boy, who had lost a leg four months due to bone cancer, was not going to be able to traverse down the steep stairs needed to meet Wakefield and his other heroes. Again Tim did what came naturally -- he vaulted over the railing into the stands, ran up the stairs, grabbed the grinning 15-year-old, and literally carried him down on his back to the front row so he could hang with his friends and the players. Wakefield went just 10-11 that summer, but that day he was Sandy Koufax and Walter Johnson wrapped into one.

"Every time I walk out to the mound and see that Jimmy Fund emblem on the Green Monster, I am reminded of the special role the team has played in helping fight cancer since Ted Williams was visiting with patients at Dana-Farber back in the 1950s," Wake once told me. "I'm proud to be a part of it." It certainly always showed.

So now it might all be over -- with Wake stuck on 186 Red Sox wins and apparently destined to finish runner-up to Clemens and Cy Young (tied at 192) atop Boston's all-time victory list. It's frustrating to think that for many fans, their last memories of the ancient knuckleballer will be his long, painful march to his 200th career win last year and his one unfortunate quote in nearly 20 years (one I am guessing may have been taken out of context anyway). They should remember all the good days he had while representing Boston with class and guts, and also know that when it came to delivering off the mound, Wake was in a league of his own.

So Opening Day is Friday the 13th...What Could Happen?

While trying to plan out book signings and other spring plans, I went on to redsox.com the other day and took my first look at the 2012 team schedule. Opting for the old-fashioned "printable" format with its familiar little white (away) and red (home) boxes, I learned that the Sox start the season in Detroit and Toronto and don't play their home opener until April 13 -- Friday, April 13.

I immediately laughed -- wondering how often (if ever) this has happened in team history and if there could be any worse time for such a bad omen. The collapse the 2011 Red Sox experienced in the final weeks of the season and the wings-and-beer headlines that followed were perhaps the most depressing period for Sox fans since Aaron Boone took Wakefield deep in 2003. Before that one has to go back to Bill Buckner (1986) and Bucky Dent (1978) for similar misery, and on impulse I did a quick check to see when Fenway opened in each of those four years. Maybe this was a trend I had missed.

Nope. The Sox broke out the Fenway bunting on Friday, April 14 in both '78 and '86, and on Saturday, Aprl 12 in 2003 (all close but no El Tiante). In 2011 they got under way at home on the seemingly safe day of Friday, April 8, but perhaps the devils were laughing anyway: the winning pitcher over the Royals that afternoon -- in, lest we forget, the team's first victory of the year after an 0-6 start -- was none other than John Lackey.

The next logical question is how many times the Red Sox have opened Fenway on Friday the 13th, and what has happened. Clearly the schedule-makers have previously done their best to avoid such a situation, because in the first 111 home openers in franchise history, it has happened exactly ONCE -- in 1984. Bruce Hurst allowed seven runs to the Tigers in the top of the first inning that day, and Detroit went on to a 13-9 victory in the first home game of the post-Yaz era. Ralph Houk's Sox went on to a respectable 86-76 campaign, but were never in the pennant hunt after Detroit's 35-5 start to the season. The Tigers went on to win the World Series, so perhaps the 13th was lucky for Sparky Anderson and Co.

OK, so now that we've established we're in rare territory here, what to make of it? Well, I thought it would be fun to contemplate what could happen when the Red Sox host the Rays on Friday, April 13, 2012 -- the kickoff to Fenway's 100th birthday season:

BOSTON, April 13 -- With just a week to go before Fenway Park celebrates its official 100th birthday, the Red Sox had better hope they can find a way to spread some good cheer before the big day. Today's news couldn't have been worse.

The 2:05 p.m. start to the game between the host Red Sox and Tampa Bay Rays was delayed two hours when bricks from part of Fenway's original foundation broke off early in the morning and fell to the ground in the concourse behind home plate. No fans were yet in the park, and no employees were injured, but the incident caused a near riot on Brookline Avenue as management kept crowds from entering Yawkey Way until the debris was cleared and the area safely sealed off.

Fans were finally settling into their seats when the next bombshells hit. Calvin Schiraldi, the 1986 World Series scapegoat welcomed back to Fenway as part of a "We Forgive You" campaign by Sox management, threw out the ceremonial first pitch and drilled catcher Jarrod Saltalamacchia in his unprotected kneecap, breaking it and forcing the Sox to start backup Kelly Shoppach in his place. Starting pitcher Jon Lester next took the mound, but didn't last through his warm-ups before a pain in his shoulder prompted manager Bobby Valentine to pull him as well.

Not wanting to shake up his other front-line pitchers, Valentine left the game in the hands of fifth starter Alfredo Aceves. The Rays promptly broke out to a 3-0 lead in the first inning, with two of the runs scoring when Boston left fielder Carl Crawford -- while in pursuit of a fly ball -- tripped on a chicken bone thrown onto the field by a heckling fan.

The Red Sox seemingly tied things up in the third inning on a three-run homer by David Ortiz off James Shields, but the runs were erased when Rays manager Joe Maddon appealed correctly that the slugger had batted out of order. Baserunners Crawford and  Jacoby Ellsbury were ordered back to their bases and Ortiz called out -- thus ending the inning. Valentine charged from the dugout to protest, and was ejected by umpire Ed Armbrister.

Aceves pitched admirably through the middle innings, but Shields held Boston scoreless before departing after eight innings with a 4-0 lead -- helped in part by four double-plays turned behind him. The Red Sox were happy to see him gone, and rallied in the bottom of the ninth off closer Kyle Farnsworth to load the bases with two outs. Crawford stepped to the plate, hoping to atone for his earlier "boner", and slammed a Farnsworth offering deep into center field. The ball rolled to the triangle as three runs scored, and Crawford appeared ready to tie the game on an inside-the-park homer.

Then the inexplicable happened. A black cat, sneaked into the ballpark by Schiraldi, escaped from its carrier in the box seats behind home plate and ran onto the field. Spooked by the sight of the feline in his path, Crawford stumbled and fell halfway between third base and home. He quickly jumped up and continued running, but was easily tagged out at the plate by catcher Robinson Chirinos.

After the game, when asked why he had brought the cat to the game, Schiraldi offered a devilish grin and said, "Why, I take little Bucky Boone everywhere."