Yawkey Way decision shows lack of creativity on part of Red Sox and John Henry

Jersey Street -- how is that better?

Judging from the on-air and online commentary, feelings are most definitely mixed on the Boston Public Improvement Commission's decision to rename Yawkey Way -- with far more negative sentiment than John Henry might have anticipated. I'm not going to pass judgment on Henry's reasoning for this move, because it's moot; Thursday's vote means the war is over, and Henry has won.

What baffles me is the lack of creative thinking on Henry's part. Faced with fans he had to know would view a name change as political correctness gone amok, the Red Sox owner missed the opportunity to push for the type of change that might win some skeptics over -- and generate additional positive buzz around the move.

The good old days ...?

By bringing back Jersey Street, Henry has effectively returned Fenway's home address to a time when stale cigar smoke wafted through the stands, the bullpen cart rolled across Joe Mooney's lawn, and drunken bleacherites yelled "Hey Uncle Ben!" at rookie outfielder Jim Rice.


Mail to Fenway arrived on Jersey Street when Jackie Robinson was told "don't call us, we'll call you" after his sham tryout in 1945, and it was where Boston manager (and sometimes GM) Mike "Pinky" Higgins reported for work when he vowed "They'll be no niggers on this club as long as I have anything to say about it." Under Yawkey's employ, he had his way longer than any other MLB boss.

Robinson did not leave Jersey Street smiling.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying everything about Jersey Street is bad. I'm sure lots of nice people have worked and lived on it. But if you're trying to bring about change, why not go all the way?

Here are five alternate street names that would have made for an upbeat ending to this saga -- and still could, if it's not too late for John Henry to get on the horn to the commission.

Bobby Doerr Boulevard: It's hard to think of a more universally respected or beloved Red Sox figure than Doerr, a Hall of Fame second baseman and coach with the club who died last November at age 99. Naming a street for him this year would be a wonderful way of honoring the memory of No. 1.

As an elder statesman, Doerr remained regal.

Ted Williams Way:  Yup, I know this was tried before back in 1991. In fact, I was standing a few feet away on the Fenway grass, working as a young freelancer shortly after college, when Teddy Ballgame was handed the street sign that bore his name and would soon be affixed to what was previously known as Lansdowne Street. Things didn't go as planned; folks kept stealing the Ted Williams Way signs, and the name never took. There is probably a whole generation of kids under 25 who never knew this attempted change ever happened.

But this August marks the 100th anniversary of Williams' birth. What better time to try again to name a street for the greatest hitter in Red Sox history -- and a two-time war hero and champion of the Jimmy Fund to boot. In a 21st century, twitter-fed world, I bet it would stick this time.

It didn't take the first time, but maybe now....?

Jimmy Fund Drive: I admit being a bit bias on this one. I've worked for Dana-Farber Cancer Institute since 1999, focused largely on the great work of its Jimmy Fund charity. I have seen up close many, many times the important role the Red Sox play in making the lives of cancer patients happier -- and how their efforts each summer in the WEEI/NESN Jimmy Fund Radio-Telethon generate millions in critical funds needed for research and clinical care. 

There is already a "Jimmy Fund Way" on Dana-Farber's main campus in the Longwood Medical Area, which Yaz and Mike Andrews dedicated in 1997 to honor the '67 Impossible Dream Red Sox. A Jimmy Fund Drive at Fenway would nobly honor the annual fundraising drives that the Sox make for New England's Favorite Charity.

A bridge for Papi - how about a street for Pedro?

Pedro Place: Other Red Sox greats have statues, why not give the best pitcher in team history his own street? The fact Pedro Martinez is also a man of color known for doing many great works on behalf of his Dominican countrymen and others makes him a worthy and fitting symbol of change in the post-Yawkey era. Besides, how cool would it be to say you were going to meet your buddies at El Tiante's on Pedro Place?

Red Sox Way:  This isn't very creative, but it is straight and to the point. It would help folks find Fenway when lost, and would symbolize what John Henry is trying to create here -- a new Red Sox way of going about business. 

If you're reading, Mr. Henry, my vote goes for Jimmy Fund Drive or Ted Williams Way -- just make sure those new street signs are bolted down tight.

Another Hall of Fame honors Pedro Martinez for his deeds and recalls his classy words

Pedro earned his stripes in Montreal.

For Red Sox fans it was a single sound byte in a month-long stretch of magical, must-see video. Most probably didn't even hear it above all the screaming in living rooms, dorm rooms, and bars across New England. Fewer would recall it later.

Over the border, however, folks took notice -- and never forgot.

Pedro Martinez had just helped the 2004 Red Sox win their first World Series in 86 years. The triumph climaxed a seven-year run of domination by Pedro unseen before or since: a 2.45 ERA and 0.978 WHIP in regular-season play during an era when steroid-fueled sluggers ripped other pitchers to bits.

In his and Boston's crowning moment of glory, a champagne-socked Pedro took a moment in the raucous Boston clubhouse to thank the Montreal Expos fans that had embraced him as he grew to stardom with their team in 1994-97. The cash-strapped Montreal front office had sent Pedro to the Red Sox in a one-sided deal after his Cy Young season in '97, knowing it couldn't resign him. Now they were losing far more than a pitching ace.

Always an afterthought in hockey-crazed Canada, and saddled with a dismal stadium that citizens voted down replacing with a publicly-funded ballpark, Les Expos were moving south to become the Washington Nationals.

"I would like to share this with the people in Montreal that are not going to have a team anymore," said Martinez. "My heart and my ring is with them, too."

A moment shared.

He was speaking to a single Montreal reporter, but the 12-second clip soon went worldwide. The classy comments were Pedro's way of thanking those who had believed in him. Tommy Lasorda and the Dodgers may have thought Martinez lacked the strength and size to be a starter (swapping him to Montreal even-up for Delino DeShields), but Expos manager Felipe Alou and his organization gave Pedro the chance to prove he could. Now the country he departed after four years and a .625 winning percentage is thanking him back with its ultimate honor.

On June 16, Martinez will be inducted into the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame, along with former Blue Jays outfielder Lloyd Moseby and baseball historian William Humber.

In a conference call with reporters after receiving the news on Feb. 1, Pedro expanded on why the honor meant so much. After his 1994 trade from the Dodgers, where his big brother and teammate Ramon had always looked out for him amidst the craziness that is LA, Martinez established his independence in Canada.

"At the time, I didn't know what to do in the streets," said Pedro. "Montreal helped me to become a man, because not only was I on my own, but doing it in a place where I felt really, really safe and loved by the people and embraced by the people that did not care what color you were, what you were wearing, how much money you were making. They were there to make you feel comfortable. So Montreal means the world to me."

Alou gave Martinez a chance.

Martinez always felt, as did many of his teammates at the time, that the Expos could have won the 1994 World Series. They were in first place with the best record in the MLB on August 12 when the remainder of the regular season and entire postseason were canceled by the 1994 baseball strike. Pedro, in his first year with the club, was 11-5 and on a five-game winning streak when the strike hit.

That's why when he finally won his first championship a decade later, Pedro wanted Montreal fans to know he wished it had been with them. His Hall of Fame plaque in Cooperstown may include a Red Sox hat, but he will always be remembered warmly by Canadians as more than just a baseball star. His brilliance went beyond the numbers, on and off the field.

Boston fans understand completely.

David Price chases history and the Ghost of Earl Wilson

Price's start has baffled the experts. (AP)

When he takes the mound tonight at Fenway Park,  David Price will be doing more than trying to turn around his season.

There is a fact that you won't find mentioned in his long Red Sox media guide entry, or anywhere else. In many respects that's a good thing -- a sign of progress. Even he likely doesn't know about it,

As history, however, it is worth acknowledging.

When the Red Sox signed Price to a seven-year, $217-million contract last December, they did more than make him the highest-paid pitcher in MLB history. The move meant that, barring injury, the team's No. 1 starter entering the 2016 season would be African-American -- a first for a franchise that dates to 1901.

The Price was right in December. (AP)

Even at a position where there has traditionally not been a tremendous amount of racial diversity at the MLB level, this is surprising for such a storied organization. And while it can't be linked entirely to the team's dubious racial past, this does play a part.

There have, of course, been men of color atop the Boston rotation. Pedro Martinez is the best pitcher most of us will ever see, and the pride of the Dominican Republic. Luis Tiant, the big-game king of the 1975 American League champions, was as famous for his long exile from Castro's Cuba as for his topsy-turvy delivery and victory cigars. Both Pedro and El Tiante were beloved, charismatic winners, but neither was African-American.

Oil Can Boyd, the Mississippi-bred son of a Negro League player, went 15-13 with 3 shutouts for a mediocre Boston club in 1985. He seemed on the verge of No. 1 status, until Roger Clemens' rapid ascent in '86, coupled with Boyd's injuries and off-field problems, kept him from achieving it.

Boyd claims racism was also a factor. This can't be proven, but the other pitcher with perhaps the most legitimate chance to be Boston's first African-American ace was undeniably denied that shot by one of the ugliest injustices in team history -- which happened 50 years ago.

Earl Wilson was called up to the Red Sox in 1959, just a few weeks after infielder Pumpsie Green's promotion made Boston the last of the sixteen original MLB clubs to break the color line. During the next several seasons, the right-hander established himself as a very good pitcher on a very bad team. Twenty-game winner Bill Monbouquette was undeniably Boston's ace, but Wilson was a rising star who pitched a 1962 no-hitter at Fenway Park in which he also homered.

Wilson's no-hitter earned him a $1,000 bonus. (AP)

A down year by Monbouquette prompted his trade after the 1965 season, opening the door for Wilson to step into the No. 1 role. He had poise, experience, and confidence -- all the makings of a star.

Then came spring training of '66, which the Red Sox spent in the still-segregated Deep South. Wilson stepped into the Cloud Nine bar one hot night in Lakeland, Florida, with white teammates Dennis Bennett and Dave Morehead.

After taking drink orders from Bennett and Morehead, the bartender reportedly looked at Wilson and said, "We don't serve niggers here."

A Louisiana native, Wilson was not surprised -- but still angry. He went to team management, and was told to forget about the incident. He later said he thought long and hard about doing just that, knowing the club's dubious reputation in racial matters. In the end, however, he felt he could not remain silent and went to the press.

Even a great power stroke couldn't save Earl.

A few stories appeared in the newspapers, and the front office failed to condemn the incident or back its ballplayer. From that point on, it was only a matter of time.

On June 17, despite a fine 3.84 ERA for a last-place club, Wilson was traded to the Detroit Tigers in a terrible one-sided deal involving otherwise nondescript players. By stirring the pot, Wilson and others close to the situation believed, he had sealed his fate.

It can be argued that Wilson had the last word. He won a combined 18 games (mostly for Detroit) that summer, and then upped his record to 22-11 for the Tigers in 1967. The '68 season ended with a World Series championship, and Wilson -- still a stalwart in the Detroit starting rotation -- was celebrated as a key man in the title run.

Wilson won big in Detroit.

He settled in Michigan and went on to a successful business career after baseball, but the pain of what happened to him in Boston remained with Wilson until his 2005 death. The sting of injustice, and of being left out to dry by an organization to which he had given so much, was "the most humiliating experience of my life."

Now the Red Sox are one of the most racially diverse teams in baseball, and David Price has a chance to avenge this proud, personable man and knock down the final racial wall of Boston baseball. Price may never have heard of Earl Wilson and the Cloud Nine bar, but it's one more reason to root for the would-be ace.

Price ponders -- and hopes for better days.

Looking back on Pedro's Day and Papi's Night, 25 years later

It is June 2040, and Cameron Piper is at Fenway Park with his son, Eddie, for a Red Sox-Providence Whalers game -- 8-year-old Eddie's first time at Fenway. 

Cameron: "Did I ever tell you about my first Red Sox game, Eddie?"

Eddie: "No dad, when was it?"

Cameron: "I was 7, just a little younger than you  now. Tickets were only $50 each, if you can believe that, and I went with Grandma Bart, Grandma Jen, and Aunt McKenna. It was her first game too."

Jen, Cameron, Bart, and McKenna Piper, 

July 26, 2015.

Eddie: "Did the Red Sox win?"

Cameron: "You better believe it. They were having a really tough year, but that night everything went right. They had 20 hits and won 11-1."

Eddie: "Did you stay the whole game or fly home early?"

Cameron: "Actually this was when we still used road cars, and we did stay till the end. We even got there early because it was the day Pedro Martinez was inducted into the Hall of Fame, and they played his speech on the big video screen."

Eddie: "You mean the one they used to have before the Blimp Boards?"

Cameron: "Yup. You've heard of Pedro, right?"

Eddie: "Sure, wasn't he the guy they named the earned-run-average title after? The president of the Dominican Republic?"

Cameron: "Yup, that's him. They played his speech, and in it he thanked a couple of his favorite teammates including David 'Big Papi' Ortiz of the Red Sox. They played together in 2004 when the Red Sox won the World Series. You remember I told you about that team, right?"

Eddie: "Sure, the team that finally beat the damn Yankees and broke Baby Ruth's curse."

Cameron: "Right, something like that. Anyway, after Pedro thanked Ortiz in his speech, Big Papi had three hits including two home runs -- and drove in seven runs!" 

Eddie:"Wow, that's great!"

Cameron: "What's really neat is that they are both from the Dominican Republic, and when Ortiz went into the Hall of Fame in 2024, he had Pedro introduce him to the crowd!" 

Eddie: "That is cool. What else happened in the game?"

Cameron: "Well, Xander Bogaerts had four hits and Eduardo Rodriguez pitched seven great innings to get the win. He was just a rookie that year but he would wind up winning three Cy Young Awards -- the first Red Sox pitcher ever to do that."

Rodriguez got win 6 of 234.

Eddie: "He's in the Hall of Fame too, right?"

Cameron: "Yup -- he won 234 games, the most of any Red Sox pitcher. Want to know a secret?"

Eddie: "Sure, what?"

Cameron: "You're named after him. I saw him pitch so many great games for the Red Sox and he brought me such joy that I figured I'd share that joy with my first son."

Eddie: "AWESOME!"

Cameron: "Your mother doesn't know, so let's keep it our secret, OK? Want to know another one?"

Eddie: "Sure!"


Cameron: "Rodriguez just got voted into the Hall of Fame this past January, and next month when they induct him, you and I are going!"

Eddie: "NO WAY!"

Cameron: "WAY! We can fly from Boston to Cooperstown in 16 minutes, check out the museum, watch his speech, and still fly back home in time for your Quiddich practice at 5:00."

Eddie: "Great, thanks dad!" 

Cameron: "Sure thing, son. Now hurry up and eat your Fenway Frank before it gets cold. It cost $36.00."

   

One more (new) reason to love and respect Pedro Martinez

Cherington gets his man. (Getty Images)

The ceremony honoring former Boston College centerfielder and "Ice Bucket Challenge" pioneer Peter Frates before Monday's home opener at Fenway Park was a wonderful touch by Red Sox management, as Frates signed a professional baseball contract with Sox GM Ben Cherington to the delight of a packed house. 

Actually, it was Pete's wife, Julie, who signed the contract. Frates can no longer write due to the ALS that has ravaged his body, but that didn't stop him from smiling while the crowd roared its approval.

There was just one problem with the event, and it came when the long line of current Red Sox players passed by Frates' wheelchair with autographed jerseys. The jerseys, each of them bearing the #3 Frates  wore at BC, had been donned by the team during a spring training game with the Eagles.

While the Sox contingent exchanged hugs, handshakes, and kind words with Julie and others in Pete's family, the man of the hour was seated a few feet back and below eye level from the players. As a result, he had no contact with most of them as they quickly walked by. Rather than hand him their #3 jerseys or drape them across or near his wheelchair, the players were instructed to place them on a table far to his right.

My wife, who has worked with paralyzed patients in wheelchairs for 25 years, noticed this right away. "Somebody should really have put him in better position, and shown those guys how to approach him," Michelle said. 

Even Ortiz looked unsure around Frates. 

She added that the players were likely nervous, unsure whether they would hurt the now-frail Frates if they were to reach out, so most played it safe by keeping their distance.  A few touched a hand to his shoulder, but the well-meaning gestures seemed tentative. 

I was beginning to wish Michelle had not pointed this all out to me when suddenly the roar of the crowd went up several notches. Emerging from the Boston dugout was one more player wishing to pay his respect to Frates -- legendary pitcher and new Hall of Fame inductee Pedro Martinez.

Waving to the crowd, his smile as broad as the guest of honor's, Martinez approached the Frates family and paused to talk with and hug each of them. He took his time, and the exchanges seemed much more poignant than the hurried embraces from the conga line of players that had come before.

First Pete's family gets a hello.

Then Pedro neared Frates' wheelchair. He leaned over, spoke a few words, and grabbed Pete in a bear hug. There was no hesitation -- just respect and love for a fellow ballplayer.

As I watched the scene unfold, I thought back a couple years to when members of the 2004 World Series champion Red Sox visited patients at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. Although all of the players were a hit in the clinics, Martinez had a sincere warmth and playfulness about him that delighted kids and adults alike. 

Now, in front of 37,000 people, he was at it again -- showing compassion to a man facing a a frightening future.

Like Lou Gehrig, for whom ALS gained its second name, Pete Frates most certainly got a tough break. But at that moment, in the arms of a legend, he felt like the luckiest man on the face of the earth.

Nice job, Pedro.

Love and Logic: Leonard Nimoy and the Boston Red Sox

Call to the bullpen: Pedro is gassed.

He gained fame traveling among the stars of Hollywood and the United Federation of Planets, but Leonard Nimoy -- who died Feb. 27 -- was at his roots a Boston boy whose life in many ways paralleled that of his hometown baseball team.

Nimoy fell in love with theater while growing up in the West End neighborhood near the Boston Garden. He found time between productions to help support his family by selling newspapers near Boston Common, where his competitors most likely included two other sons of immigrants -- twin brothers Arthur and Henry D'Angelo -- who later became known as owners of the Red Sox superstore Twins Enterprises.

(If you've never heard of the West End, that's because it no longer exists -- it was torn down in the name of urban renewal in the early 1960s and replaced with high-rise apartments and the Central Artery Expressway.) 

Portrait of a young fan.

Young Leonard began attending games at Fenway Park when Ted Williams was at his peak in the 1940s. He recalled seeing The Kid homer on more than one occasion, and likely had a special spot in his heart for Boston's nine-language-speaking bullpen catcher Moe Berg as a fellow brainy Jewish kid from a humble background. 

By the time Ted left for the Marines in 1952, Nimoy had too -- spurning his parents' wishes of a medical or law career by heading to California in search of stardom. It didn't come quickly, and while driving a cab to make ends meet Nimoy once picked up a fellow Hub native who peppered him with questions about life back home: John F. Kennedy. Since both were baseball fans, it's likely that the Red Sox were one topic of conversation.

Taxicab encounter: Two commanders

Like the Sox, Nimoy struggled during the next 15 years before finally making it big in 1967. While Boston shocked the baseball world that summer with its improbable ninth-to-first "Impossible Dream" team, Nimoy became an out-of-this-world superstar as half-human, half-Vulcan Mr. Spock. He took advantage of his popularity on "Star Trek" by dabbling in a second career as a singer, but just as Boston outfielder Tony Conigliaro discovered with "Little Red Scooter," Nimoy's crooning "The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins" didn't make anybody clamor for him to quit his primary job.

Listen if you dare.

After their glorious revival of '67 the Red Sox slumped a bit the next few years, during which "Star Trek" was canceled, but both the ballclub and Nimoy's career  had a resurgence in the late 1970s. The adventures of Spock, Captain Kirk, and their Enterprise crew hit the big screen at the same time the Red Sox were annually battling the Yankees for American League East supremacy. 

He never found Babe's piano either.

One wishes a coach employing Vulcan logic could have been on hand in 1978 to stop Don Zimmer from banishing Bill Lee from the rotation or sending up Bob Bailey to face Goose Gossage, but Nimoy was too busy furthering the "Star Trek" franchise and narrating the hit TV show "In Search of..." There he looked for Big Foot, Amelia Earhart, and the Loch Ness Monster, but Boston fans would have been happier had he sought out more pitching.

Another revival came in the late 1980s -- three division titles and a pennant for the Red Sox and a blockbuster film directed by Nimoy: "Three Men and a Baby." One of the movie's stars, coincidentally, was Ted Danson, who had previously made a name for himself playing washed-up Boston relief ace Sam "Mayday" Malone on "Cheers." 

It must have been exasperating for a man of Nimoy's intelligence to endure the string of excruciating and seemingly preventable Red Sox setbacks during this period. Spock may have lacked emotions, but the man behind the ears had to feel the pain.

Would a well-timed Vulcan nerve pinch have kept John McNamara from leaving Bill Buckner in Game 6 of the 1986 World Series, or Grady Little from taking out Pedro in the '03 ALCS? One can only speculate, but it sure would have been fun to try.

Take that, Grady!

By the time the Red Sox finally broke through in Stardate 2004, "Star Trek" was into its third generation of fans and Nimoy as Spock had become a pop culture icon of the highest order. His reaction to Boston's incredible comeback against the Yankees in the ALCS is not documented, but he was likely not surprised. 

After all, the Red Sox had that season briefly employed a pitcher, Joe Nelson, whose best pitch was known as a "Vulcan Changeup."

Now that's logical.

     

Why Hall of Fame voters got it wrong (again) on Curt Schilling

Schilling & Martinez both belong. (Boston Globe)

Pedro Martinez and Randy Johnson were worthy Hall of Fame selections today, each receiving more than 98 percent of the vote, but the man who sparkled alongside each of them on World Series champions got only 39.2 percent -- nowhere near the 75 percent needed for inclusion.

This marked the third year since he became eligible that Curt Schilling has finished well back of the pack, and it has me perplexed. By no means am I implying Schilling is in Johnson or Martinez's class as a pitcher; Johnson is in the pantheon of Tom Seaver and Lefty Grove among all-time greats, while Martinez is the Sandy Koufax of his generation based on his incredible stretch of mid-career domination. At his best, there was none better than Pedro -- maybe ever. 

Still, there are many reasons that the man who made bloody socks famous also deserves Cooperstown inclusion -- especially when one considers the third pitcher who received first-ballot entry this year with 82.5 percent of the vote -- John Smoltz -- is in many ways Schilling's statistical near-twin.

Here are three:

1. Schilling was a top-of-the-rotation starter on three different teams that reached the World Series -- and a three-time champion.

Schill matched the Big Unit in '01.

This is an impressive and very rare trifecta. Schilling went 16-7 in leading the 1993 Phillies to the cusp of a title before Mitch "Wild Thing" Williams imploded against the Blue Jays. In 2001 he was 22-6 and teamed with Diamondbacks "co-ace" Johnson to keep the mighty Yankees from a four-peat, and in 2004 he was 21-6 and clearly the best pitcher (sorry Pedro) on the Red Sox team that finally got it done.

Throw in his solid 15-7 mark in playing second fiddle to Josh Beckett on the '07 Red Sox title-winners, and it's clear this is a guy who not only knew how to win, but how to help teams win.

2. His postseason record is among the best ever -- and he did it over the long haul.

Schilling was bloody good in the postseason.

Schilling has few peers here. He made the playoffs five times, reached the World Series on four occasions, and overall made 19 postseason starts. Over 133.1 innings he was 11-2 with four complete games, two shutouts, a 2.23 ERA, and 0.96 WHIP. He went deep into games on almost every occasion, and shined bright on the biggest stage -- compiling a 2.06 ERA and 0.896 WHIP in 48 World Series innings. In 2001, he and Johnson shared Series MVP honors.

Among all-time postseason leaders, Schilling ranks third in winning percentage (.846), fifth in wins, eighth in both starts and strikeouts (120), and ninth in innings pitched. That's dominance.

3. His regular season stats compare very favorably to others in the Hall of Fame -- including today's first-year inductee Smoltz.

Better than Curt? Only in relief.

Check out Smoltz's stats as a starter. Sure, he's one of only two guys with 200 wins and 150 saves, but that's like saying Joe Torre is the only guy to hit 250 home runs and win multiple World Series as a manager. Smoltz was an All-Star caliber closer for three years, and that's hardly enough of a sample size to warrant Hall of Fame selection. Throw out his 154 saves, and Smoltz and Schilling have VERY similar numbers:

Smoltz:   211-155 (.579), 3.33 ERA, 3084 strikeouts, 1010 walks, 1.176 WHIP 
Postseason:  15-4, 2.67 ERA, 0.941 WHIP
8-time All-Star, 1 twenty-win season, 1 World Series title, 3 times Cy Young Top 5 (1 win)

Schilling:  216-146 (.597). 3.46 ERA, 3116 strikeouts, 711 walks, 1.137 WHIP
Postseason:  11-2, 2.23 ERA, 0.968 WHIP
6-time All-Star, 3 twenty-win seasons, 3 World Series title, 4 times Cy Young Top 5

I'm nor saying Smoltz is not a Hall of Famer, but why is he a first-ballot slam-dunk while Schilling is still on the way outside looking in? Are a couple Rolaids Relief Awards worth more to a candidate's credentials than a couple World Series rings? How about the fact one guy is perceived as a low-key gentleman and the other as a bit of a blowhard? Should that matter? 

Schill as a Phil -- quite the thrill.

Now let's look at another first-ballot guy with Schilling-like stats and multiple world championships -- Catfish Hunter. He won five rings, three with Oakland and two with New York, but his sore arm kept him under 150 innings for the Yankees in '77 and '78. He's clearly in Cooperstown for what he did from 1967-76, and that's fine, but what he did in that stretch and over his career was pretty comparable to Schilling, and he did it in an era dominated by pitching:

Hunter:  224-166 (.574), 3.26 ERA, 2012 strikeouts, 954 walks, 1.134 WHIP
Postseason:  9-6, 3.26 ERA, 1.126 WHIP
8-time All-Star, 5 twenty-win seasons, 5 World Series titles, 4 times Cy Young Top 5 (1 win) 

Again, Hunter was a lovable guy, but was he really that much better than Schilling? Remember, he was winning 20 games a year when that was far more commonplace; he finished in his league's Top 5 in wins five times, just once more than Schilling (both led their league twice). He also played on two of the most dominant teams of the last 40 years -- the 1971-75 Athletics and the 1976-78 Yankees.

The Cat -- better than Curt?

Taking into account that wins on their own often don't measure the full strength of a pitcher, let's take a look at wins above replacement (WAR) -- a measure of how much better or worse a team does with a player compared to the league average performer at the same position (with factors like ballparks also taken into account). The higher the WAR, the more valuable the pitcher. Here's the WAR breakdown for Schilling, Smoltz, and Hunter:

Schilling 80.7 (26th all-time)
Smoltz 69.5 
Hunter 41.4

Try the same thing with Hall of Fame members Don Drysdale and Jim Bunning, and you'll see Schilling compares very favorably to them both in wins, WAR, and postseason performance (Bunning never even pitched in the playoffs). Granted, Drysdale and Bunning are from a different era, but even taking that into account the numbers stack up quite evenly. 

Drysdale -- another in Schilling's class.

Not all sportswriters were Schilling fans, but they clearly respected him when it came to accolades. He never won a Cy Young Award like Smoltz or Hunter, but he finished second in the voting three times (twice to Johnson) and overall had far more Cy Young votes than Smoltz and only a few less than Hunter. In fact, Schilling had more Cy votes than all but 20 pitchers in history (and only one non-winner, Adam Wainwright, is in the Top 20).

That's what makes the current situation so confusing. Hall of Fame voters may not like Schilling's politics. They may not be fans of his business acumen (especially if they live in Rhode Island). They may even think he talks too much. But when it comes to their Hall of Fame votes, it seems they should be able to put that aside and judge the man solely by his numbers and success.

If they do, they will see it is clear that he belongs in Cooperstown.

One of these doesn't belong -- but he should.

How a gift from Red Sox fans gave Boston Mayor Tom Menino strength and support

A man and his cane. (Boston Globe)

In the last months of his life, after his retirement from office and before his death from cancer on Oct. 30, Boston Mayor Tom Menino was almost never seen in public without wielding a very distinctive-looking cane he was given exactly one year ago today.

It was fashioned from a genuine Louisville Slugger baseball bat, with Menino's name and the years of the last three Red Sox World Series championships emblazoned on its barrel. The mayor liked to point out with pride that the 2004, 2007, and 2013 titles were all won during his administration, and he had several Sox players autograph the bat -- including '04 pitching ace Pedro Martinez and various members of the '13 champs.

The "bat cane" went everywhere with Menino, including his stays at Brigham and Women's Hospital and his chemotherapy treatments next door at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. When mourners passed by his open casket at Faneuil Hall last week, they could see the unique walking stick lying beside him. Afterwards, the mayor's press secretary, Dot Joyce, was seen carrying it out of the hall.

"When they showed Angela [Menino's widow] on TV walking up the steps and into their home that night, you could see she was carrying the cane," says Lynne Smith, the Red Sox super-fan famous for her extraordinary outfits, including a Fenway Park hat with working lights and Citgo sign. "That was so hard for us to see. We knew how much he  cared about it."

That Smith noticed the cane during its brief TV appearance was no surprise. It was she and her husband, Gary, who had ordered the very special walking stick for Menino, and then presented it to their friend at a charity event last Nov. 10.

The Smiths and the Mayor -- friends and fans.

"We got the idea when we went to the [2013] Red Sox-Tigers ALDS games in Detroit, and saw an elderly man walking with a baseball bat cane at Comerica Park," says Smith. "Gary and I just looked at each other and said 'Menino' at the same time. We knew it was something the mayor would love, so we asked the man where he had gotten it."

It turns out there was a retired firefighter named Rick Just who made the Little-League-sized Louisville Slugger canes -- available at http://baseballbatcane.com/ -- as a one-man operation out of his DeLand, Florida home. After the Red Sox won the World Series, the Smiths contacted Just with their request for a Menino model.

When they gave the cane to the mayor last November, "his eyes just lit up," recalls Lynne Smith. "You could tell he liked it."

John Henry views the cane. (Tom Fitzsimmons)

Menino had already been using a cane for a variety of health reasons, including a broken leg in April 2013 and his bone-weakening cancer treatment this year. He was not happy with the walking sticks he had, however, including one that had been used by the late Massachusetts Senator Ted Kennedy but was too long for the mayor. As a result, he wasn't going out as much. 

This changed once he got the bat cane. Suddenly this Red Sox fan who signified "Boston Strong" as well as anybody was proud to walk the streets with its assistance, and loved showing it off. 

A familiar sight during the last year. (Boston Globe)

"It was extremely important to him, and he would not leave the house without it," one of his Dana-Farber social workers explains. "It made having to use a cane feel like a source of strength, because it was connected to his Red Sox pride."

Probing reporters asked Menino where he got the bat cane, and at first he would only say it was "from friends." Finally he relented and told them, and when Lynne and Gary went on the record with Just's name, the firefighter-turned-craftsman was inundated with orders.

"He was so appreciative, he insisted on making a bat cane for me," says Lynne Smith. "Louisville Slugger gave him a pink one at my request, and he inscribed it to,  'Lynne Smith #1 Red Sox Fan.'" Like the mayor's version, it lists the 2004-07-13 championships, and is one of her most cherished Sox-themed objects in a home filled with them. 

 Lynne loves her pink bat.

While Menino's bat cane did not prove magical for the 2014 Red Sox, it was not for lack of effort. It went to spring training in Florida with the mayor, and on many trips to Fenway Park during the summer. It even made it to the White House when the mayor accompanied last year's title-winning Sox to a celebration with President Obama. Lynne Smith made sure to call Rick Just and tell him, "One of your bats is in the Oval Office."

The last time the mayor ever visited Fenway was with current Massachusetts Senator Ed Markey, for the final game of Boston's dismal '14 season. As always, the cane was by his side. 

"Angela told us that the mayor just carried himself differently with the cane," says Lynne Smith. "Once he went to a school and a little boy took the cane and didn't want to give it back, and one time the airlines gave him a hard time and said it was a weapon. But he always got it back."

Menino's last Xmas tree lighting (Olga Khvan)

The Smiths got a deeper sense of how important their gift had been when several members of Menino's staff approached them at the mayor's funeral on Nov. 3 to say how much the cane had meant to him. 

"It was a random act of kindness," Lynne Smith says now. "We gave it with love, and just hoped he would have some fun with it.

"We had no idea it would take on a life of its own."