It is Sunday February 11, 2001. Spring Training is about to begin and every Red Sox fan is doing the February Fret. This yearly ritual, exacerbated by Dan Duquette’s love of project players, is where true Red Sox fans stop getting pumped and ask, “Are we really that good?”
Now, my answer to this is fairly simple:
“Hell Yes.”
Now that I have lost almost all my credibility with all the true Boston Cynics, I beg a minute to explain and justify my case.
Return, if you will, to last year. Sports Illustrated chose us to go win the World Series. The Red Sox nation got pumped. Any challenge to our assertion that we would win the series was countered with, “SI said so!”
Then the season started.
As much as we are bitter that we didn’t win last year, we have to give credit where credit is due. The Red Sox put up a valiant fight, despite falling short at the end, and allowing the detestable Yanks to win another title.
Take the beginning of the season. After a 1-4 start, we came back to take the division lead. I have to admit, the Sox did look like a Bona Fide Championship team during that stretch. Each day our starter would come out, pitch well for five to six innings, and turn it over to the bullpen. If we didn’t already have the lead, a clutch Carl Everett or Nomar Garciapparra hit would rectify the situation fast enough. Pichardo and Garces formed a Batman and Robin duo that laid the smack on all opposing batters. And every day Derek Lowe would close the game perfectly, without a hit, or so it seemed.
Until the injury to John Valentin snapped us all back to reality.
Overlooked in our success, or simply ignored, were the miserable years of Troy O’Leary, Jason Varitek, Jose Offerman, and Brian Daubach. Trot Nixon and Carl Everett, had picked up the slack, essentially covering up for the sub-par performances by these players.
But with the second half of the season, Trot and Carl went through their own slumps. O’Leary came back fairly hot, and attained a degree of respectability. Offerman went on a blazing September run, practically carrying the team for a couple of games, along with Daubach who got hot before the memorable Tampa Brawl.
Now, you ask, why do I mention the disappointment of 2000?
To prove that it can’t get any worse.
Wait, wait, and hear me out. Last year we had:
No third baseman.
No reliable starting pitching outside of Pedro and, at the end of the year, Arrojo.
Injuries everywhere.
The meltdown of Brian Rose.
John “Wayback!” Wasdin.
In short, we had basically the year from Hell. Nothing went right.
And yet we still finished above .500, in second place in the AL East, two and a half games behind the Yankees for the division lead, and damn close to making the playoffs.
The core players of this team have got to be thinking: Hey, we went through hell last year, and we still did reasonably well. We’ve been to hell and back, baby, and we’re taking what’s OURS!
The Yanks have had their time, now it’s ours.
Now, analyze our situation:
Varitek and Offerman cannot have worse years. True, they were both injured last year, and that partially justifies their lack of production, but they need to and will return to normal form.
Trot Nixon had 10 less RBIs in 80 less at bats that Troy O’Leary. In short, he knocked in 15% fewer runs in 20% less time. All you dumb WEEI fans who are calling Trot unproven, and defending Troy, chew on those stats. Trot deserves right field, its his now. Troy, I’m sorry, but you’re the odd man out. I don’t care if Troy is a Duquette guy and Trot is a Gorman guy, Troy is leaving.
We will have a third baseman this year that can hit, run, and field better than a crash test dummy. Stynes or Valentin will fill the hole.
As for Daubach, we can handle having him playing as he does if we put him at the seventh or eighth spot in the lineup. Every team has a hole, and if our hole is a first baseman that hits 20 homers and knocks in around 70 runs, I’m definitely happy.
Our bullpen was stellar last year. We got rid of Wasdin. In my book, that’s addition by subtraction. Cormier was overpaid by Philly, and we have a bullpen that can get lefties out easily enough, with Garces and Lowe.
Jimmy Williams said at the end of the season that he is “taking the gloves off” with Trot Nixon this year. Consider if you will, this statistic, Nixon and Darren Lewis had virtually the same number of at bats last year. That is inexcusable, I don’t care how much Trot can’t hit against left-handed pitching, at least he can swing a damn bat.
We had no, I repeat, no starting pitching last year, with the exception of God (Pedro Martinez). This year we have an abundance of starting pitching. True, it is not all quality, and much of it is Duquette project pitching, but it absolutely HAS to be better than last year.
And finally:
Manny Ramirez. Enough said.
And to all the people who say that they have “guarded optimism” about the season, I say this:
What is the point of having guarded optimism? Part of the magic of baseball is having that certain giddy feeling every year, being able to think: Maybe this is the year!
Screw “guarded optimism.” Act like a kid and get pumped. These are our Red Sox, whether we like it or not. We lived and died with them last year. Everyone remembers the moments of last season: Daubach’s late inning heroics, Carl Everett’s early season explosion, Pedro’s one hitter against Tampa, Nomar’s chase of .400, Cy Young #3 for Pedro, Batting Title #2 for Nomar, and the Rico Brogna walk off grand slam.
But the most important image came after the last game of the season. The Boston Globe printed a picture of Trot Nixon, after he struck out as the last Red Sox batter of the season, sitting in the dugout, all alone, with a blank look of pain, sorrow, and disbelief on his face. He was crushed, to say the least.
But that’s not why it was a great image. In that same look, Trot gaze expressed everything that had happened in the season, from the emotional peaks to the valleys. I imagine that he was reliving everything that had happened in the season. That picture, which I shortsightedly threw out, sticks out in my mind because it expressed the pain that Trot felt and, at the same time, his rededication to winning, his promise to himself and everyone that he would do everything to win the big one this year.
And now, over one hundred twenty days later, I still remember that image. And throughout this season, through the good times and the bad, I will remember the look on Trot’s face. Through the chants of “YANKEES SUCK”; “MANNY! MANNY”; and “PEDRO! PEDRO” I will remember that look.
When we win, I will remember it. When we lose, I will remember it. And if we don’t make it to the post season this year, or Pedro Martinez cuts his arm off, I will remember the look on Trot’s face, and look forward to next year.
And at the end of this year, when Pedro Martinez strikes out the last batter to win the World Series…
I will remember that look…
For it is that look that reminds me that our time will come,
And it’s sooner than you think.