Well, now we know why the Helton deal died.  Theo Epstein was busy consumating another deal, but not with Charles Monfort.

Theo Epstein Married

Coney Island, Theo?
I guess Canobie Lake Park is all booked up this time of year.

Congrats, from Dewey’s House.

The current Red Sox news is all about first base.  However, the team has a hole in another area, one which will need to be addressed by April.  While we wait for some news on the futures of Todd Helton and Curt Schilling,  let’s take a little trip down memory lane.    
 

Diane: “Everyone knows that hate is not the opposite of love. Indifference is.”
Sam: “Well, whatever you say. I really don’t care.”
 

Perhaps no other fictional icon embodied the quintessential closer like Sam “Mayday” Malone: cocky, thickheaded, and apathetic.  With the outcome of a ballgame at Fenway Park resting on your shoulders in the 9^th inning, those qualities are as essential as a glove and cleats. 

The “closer” bullpen position has evolved over time; its beginnings can be traced to somewhere around the end of WWII.  Throughout the past 6 decades, the Sox have had quite a cast of characters inhabit this role.  Some are memorable for their on-field performances, some are memorable as trade-bait, and some memorable for pulling down their pants and sitting bare-assed on birthday cakes (I’ll explain). 

Here’s a brief timeline of the team’s closer history, leading up to our current…situation.

* Note: The ERA stat is used as a quick reference, but be sure to take that with a grain of salt.  For instance, the quality of hitters faced by Sparky Lyle is much different from those faced by Derek Lowe.

Ellis “Old Folks” Kinder  1949-1955
91 Saves, 3.19 ERA

Nicknamed the above after becoming a 32-year-old rookie and pitching until age 44, Ellis was the first prominent Red Sox closer.  He was a prime example of the hardscrabble blue-collar MLB that is long gone: he worked as a railroad pipe-fitter in the winters, and could probably kick all the other guys’ asses on this list (with the likely exception of Radatz).  Kinder could throw 10 innings just as easily as he could throw 1, and he had excellent seasons as both a starter and a reliever.  He played hard on the field and drank hard at the pubs, and he died in his hometown in Tennessee at age 54.  In today’s era of micromanaged, pampered pitching staffs, this type of guy is now long extinct.

 

Dick “The Monster” Radatz  1962-1965
104 Saves, 2.57 ERA

Remember Little League?  There was always the kid who was bigger than everyone else, who probably grew pubes before anyone else did, and he threw much, much harder than anyone else?  Every other kid in the league was afraid to face that kid, because maybe…just maybe…one of those blazing fastballs would slip out of his hand and crack your jawbone like an eggshell?  Dick Radatz was that kid.  Standing at 6’5”, and weighing 240 pounds, Radatz terrorized the American League for 4 years with his 100 MPH heat.  During a time when the Red Sox were awful (the bleak period between Teddy’s retirement and the emergence of Yaz) the man practically had Mickey Mantle’s head stuck on a plaque in his living room.  Although he flamed out quickly, likely due to overuse, he is generally considered the best closer in Red Sox history.       

Sparky Lyle  1968-1971
69 Saves, 2.94 ERA

Lyle is part of an exclusive club, and his fellow members are among baseball’s elite: Babe Ruth. Roger Clemens. Les Nunamaker.  That’s right, players who have crossed the line: abandoning the glorious, picturesque city of Boston, the home of poets, artisans, and heroes…and journeying into the land of shadow: the filthy depths of The Bronx, a festering den of terrorists, child-abusers, and kitten-stranglers.

Lyle had a few good seasons with Boston before being traded to the Yankees for the immortal Danny Cater, and becoming one of the premier closers of the 70’s.  However, the thing I like best about him is this: Sparky was known for sitting, bare-assed, on any birthday cake that happened to find its way into the clubhouse.  He once sat bare-assed on Yankee manager Ralph Houk’s birthday cake, unaware that the intended recipient was his boss.  I wonder if I could get away with that…   

Bob “The Steamer” Stanley  1978-1986 (on and off)
132 Saves, 3.18 ERA

I was never sure how he acquired the moniker “The Steamer”.  He is not from Cleveland, and he didn’t throw particularly hard, so I’ll guess he was named after the clam indigenous to his native New England.

The numbers don’t lie, he was quite good for a long time. Arguably the best reliever in team history, Stanley spent his entire 13 year career with the Sox.  Unfortunately, to many Red Sox fans, he will always be remembered for his disastrous performance during Game Six of the 1986 World Series, and not for being the best pitcher on the team before the emergence of Roger Clemens.  Stanley was another guy who seemed to age very fast, again, likely due to overuse when he was young.

Some of my earliest memories as a fan are watching Stanley in the sunset of his career.  He always had a tired, forlorn look to him, sort of like a thin version of Norm from “Cheers”.  Looking at over his tenure, which included 2 All-Star games and various appearances on Cy Young Award ballots, there isn’t much to be sad about (October atrocities notwithstanding).

Lee Smith  1988-1989
58 Saves, 3.15 ERA

Big Lee Smith is probably Boston’s first example of the true modern-day closer: a guy who will enter the game in one situation: 9^th inning, team winning by 3 runs or less.  The mid-to-late 80’s ushered in a new baseball fad, the obsession with the “save” statistic.  Mangers, general-managers, agents and arbitrators all began to use “saves” as a primary benchmark for bullpen effectiveness.  Rollie Fingers surfed this wave better than anyone else, becoming a Hall of Famer, which gave him 2 things in common with Cap Anson (the first being a ridiculous mustache). 

Amidst all of this, Lee Smith quietly climbed higher and higher on the all-time saves leader-board.  He was never a dominant pitcher with Boston; his best years were spent with the Cubs earlier in his career.  When he left the Sox, he eventually became the all-time saves record-holder, until he was surpassed by Trevor Hoffman just last year.

 

Jeff Reardon  1990-1992
88 Saves, 3.41 ERA

Jeff, a hometown guy from the Berkshires, was once one of the top relievers in baseball in the 80’s.  The Red Sox acquired him later in his career, when he was still somewhat effective, but not the star he was when he was young in Montreal.  Reardon’s most memorable moment in a Red Sox uniform was breaking the all-time saves record, by surpassing Rollie Fingers on the list.  He didn’t hold the title for very long, it is a record that changes hands fairly quickly (just ask Lee Smith), and he currently sits at the 6^th all-time spot, just below Dennis Eckersley.

Reardon’s life after baseball has been fairly horrific.  He’s suffered a couple of tragedies, real Biblical-type stuff.  He was one of my favorites growing up, and I’m rooting for him to make it through.  I wouldn’t bet against him. 

Heathcliff Slocumb  1996-1997
48 Saves, 4.02 ERA

Closers with control problems are always fun to watch.  It’s a great sensation, sort of like that exhilarating feeling you get when you see a white Ford Crown Victoria pull behind you on the highway, or that awesome feeling you have when you realize you’ve f***ed something up at the office, and you think you might be fired for it.

Seriously, this guy drove me crazy.  He had flashes of brilliance in 1996, but over 5 walks per 9 IP will make a manager want to cut himself, depressed teenager-style. 

The one reason I want to mention Slocumb here: he was used as trade-bait in perhaps the best trade in Red Sox history, the acquisition of future All-Stars Derek Lowe and Jason Varitek.  Of course, the phrase “best trade in Sox history” is like saying “best oceanfront resort in Antarctica”, but we’ll take what we can get.       

Tom “Flash” Gordon  1997-1999
68 Saves, 2.72 ERA

You know you’ve done well if you become the title of a Stephen King novel.  Flash Gordon followed the career path of Dennis Eckersley, resurrecting himself by transforming from a mediocre starter into a dominant closer.  Gordon took the American League by storm in 1998, setting a record for consecutive save opportunities, and rivaling Mariano Rivera as one of the top relievers in baseball. 

However, 1999 wasn’t as kind to The Flash.  He suffered nagging elbow injuries, and spent most of the season on the DL.  The Sox brought him back too early in the playoffs, and he aggravated the injury, resulting in surgery in December.  He spent the entire 2000 season on the DL, and did not pitch for Boston again.

Derek Lowe  2000-2001
85 Saves, 2.89 ERA

Derek, one of the prizes acquired in the Slocumb trade, wasn’t your typical closer, in several ways.  For one, he relied on a heavy sinker, which drew lots of contact and wasn’t very good for blowing hitters away (not unlike Bob Stanley).  Also, he was not the most stoic fellow.  Derek would tend to take rough outings, media criticism, and fan catcalls to heart, which led to his trademark expression: “The Derek Lowe Face”. 

However, as you can see from his numbers, Derek was extremely effective.  His 2000 season was basically as good as Gordon’s 1998 (alas, Dean Koontz did not include Derek’s name in any book titles).  After his brief successes as an All-Star closer, Derek became an All-Star starter in 2002, finishing 3^rd in the Cy Young Award voting. 

Legendary for frequenting the Boston nightlife circuit, there were always grumblings that Derek could have been even better than he was, if he concentrated more of his energy in more productive ways.  That said, when you look past the booze and the broads, from 2000-2002, Derek was not just good…he was outstanding. 

 

Closer By Committee   2003
Total Chaos, The Near Collapse of Civilization

In one of his first moves as General Manager, 30-year-old Theo Epstein tried to implement a contemporary Jamesian bullpen model: having the best pitcher throw in the most crucial game situation, not necessarily the 9^th inning.  The decision was made, in part, because the roster had 3 or 4 decent bullpen arms, but did not have one outstanding arm (similar to the current situation).

This new maverick bullpen started off with a bang on Opening Day, blowing a 9^th inning lead to the Tampa Bay Devil Rays.  Red Sox fans, always the understanding and patient type, were surprisingly slow to warm to this concept.

In mid-season, the plan was abandoned, and Byung-Hyun Kim was acquired in exchange for Shea Hillenbrand.  I know what you are thinking: this seems lopsided.  Well, as a condition of the deal, Arizona was forced to also take Shea Hillenbrand’s personality. So that evened things out. 

Kim pitched well enough, despite a few late season hiccups, and the term “Closer By Committee” became one of baseball’s inside jokes, never to be used in serious context again.

 

Keith Foulke  2004-2005
47 Saves, 3.50 ERA

Perhaps the complete opposite of Bob Stanley, career-wise.  When you look at Keith’s aggregate numbers with the Sox, you won’t see anything special.  He spent one and a half years as the closer of this team, and thanks to a disastrous 2005, his overall track-record seems pedestrian. 

However, I’m sure we all know the true story here.  In 2004, Keith Foulke was a warrior-poet (in the words of Sir Robert the Bruce in Braveheart).  His stunning 225 ERA+ only tells part of the story.  The man with the unorthodox quarterback-like delivery and killer palm-ball was a rock in October.  Without Keith Foulke, it would be 89 years and counting, and that stupid “Reverse The Curse” sign would still hang over Storrow Drive.

Watching his disappointing 2005 season was particularly heart-wrenching for me.  Generally speaking, the people of Boston turned on him.  Six months after he rode in the biggest parade in the history of Boston, the fans at Fenway Park essentially chased him out of town, after a few rough outings in April and May.  I never understood that.  I started to think that maybe the World Series changed us, gave us a sense of entitlement, like our ugly cousins in The Bronx.  I still shudder to think about it, because I see more and more evidence of this horrible transformation every day.  Alright, I’ll step off my soapbox here.

Jonathan Papelbon  2006
35 Saves, 0.92 ERA

I still check to make sure that ERA isn’t just a typo.  Jonathan (don’t call him Jon) came into the 2006 with more than enough hype.  After making a few spot appearances in 2005, the big rookie began to draw comparisons to Roger Clemens: his build, his delivery, and his glove-popping fastball.

Unbelievably, Jon exceeded the hype in 2006, having the greatest single-season bullpen performance in Red Sox history, and perhaps one of the greatest in baseball history. 

Management has tentatively decided to move Jon to the rotation in 2007.  Some balked at this move; how could they change his role after that season?  The other side of the argument (which I happen to agree with) is that 200 Papelbon innings is better than 70 Papelbon innings, assuming his shoulder can handle the workload.  Which brings us to today…

??????  2007-

Right now, there are several candidates.  Joel Pineiro?  Devern Hansack?  Mike Timlin?  Brendan Donnelly?  Craig Hansen?  Manny Delcarmen?  Kyle Snyder? 

Not one of those names will inspire much optimism in the pundits.  Most baseball analysts love to see “an experienced closer” (i.e. someone who makes at least 7 million dollars a year).  However, in my experience (which includes 20 years of sitting on my ass), the best way to go about acquiring a closer is to be a bit more creative than just looking at the active save leaders.  Most of the game’s greatest closers: Mariano Rivera, Eric Gagne, Trevor Hoffman, were all converted into the role by their teams, after they had floundered in other roles (usually as a starter).  Pineiro, Snyder, and Hansack seem to fit this bill.  If he returns in 2007, Matt Clement would be another interesting name to add to the mix.  Since the Sox have spent exorbitant amounts of money in other areas of the roster, it would seem that they have chosen this course. 

Sox fans, all I can promise is this:  it will be interesting. 

Note: I apologize for the haphazard formatting, as this writing tool is somewhat foreign to me (sort of like America’s fascination with karaoke). 

As the immortal David Bowie once wrote:

Ch-ch-Changes
Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can’t trace time

What’s up internet baseball nerds? It’s nice to be here. I’ll try not to disappoint the loyal followers; these are some big shoes to fill. It’s nice having another new guy on board so I can blame him when you stop coming here. Enough bullshit, lets get down to it.

The 2007 season approaches with a few more transitions being made. Of course, there are the annual rookie call-ups, free agent signings and trades. Keep walkin’, nothin’ to see here. Things are a little more complicated this year. There have been several high profile Japanese acquisitions entering significant roles spots on contending clubs. I won’t attempt to project their statistics, because there are other guys out there that can do it better. My goal is to create an illusion of context for their former statistics through comparison (albeit limited). Also, why do some Japanese players fail? Are there inherent differences in the style of play that make the adjustment easier (or more difficult) for a specific kind of player? Do players improve once they’ve made the switch because they become more talented, or because they become acclimated to their opponents?

The Prototype

Ichiro burst onto the scene in 2001, merely won ROY and MVP on a team that won 116 games and filled (along with Bret “More Juice than Minute Maid” Boone) the void left by the departure of three superstars. It’s safe to say he adjusted well, but he isn’t the same player that he was in Japan. His JPL numbers in reflected more power than he has ever demonstrated in the states. His slugging never dipped below .500 on the other side of the Pacific; while here he has barely topped .450. He was more of a home run threat in Japan, averaging nearly 17 a season compared with 10 in MLB.

Ichiro		OBP	SLG	OPS
1994	Orix	0.445	0.513	0.958
1995	Orix	0.432	0.544	0.976
1996	Orix	0.422	0.504	0.926
1997	Orix	0.414	0.519	0.933
1998	Orix	0.414	0.518	0.932
1999	Orix	0.412	0.572	0.984
2000	Orix	0.460	0.539	0.999
2001	SEA	0.381	0.457	0.838
2002	SEA	0.388	0.425	0.813
2003	SEA	0.352	0.436	0.788
2004	SEA	0.414	0.455	0.869
2005	SEA	0.350	0.436	0.786
2006	SEA	0.370	0.416	0.786

As you can see he was remarkably consistent in Japan, and that consistency has carried over. Look at 97 and 98: his OBP was constant and his SLG wavered one point. This is the nature of Ichiro’s game. The natural adjustment period any hitter goes through is mitigated by his style. He is the only player in the game that makes pitchers adjust to him. It doesn’t matter who’s pitching to him, he’ll hit. I really wish I could come up with a legit reason to hate him.

Go-Go-Godzilla

There’s a reason Matsui got that nickname in Japan. From 2000-2002 he slugged .654, hit 128 home runs, and reached base about 45% of the time. How has he fared since making the transition?

Hideki Matsui		OBP	SLG	OPS
1994	YG	0.367	0.475	0.842
1995	YG	0.362	0.481	0.843
1996	YG	0.400	0.622	1.022
1997	YG	0.419	0.564	0.983
1998	YG	0.408	0.562	0.970
1999	YG	0.416	0.631	1.047
2000	YG	0.438	0.654	1.092
2001	YG	0.463	0.617	1.080
2002	YG	0.461	0.692	1.153
2003	NYY	0.353	0.435	0.788
2004	NYY	0.390	0.522	0.912
2005	NYY	0.367	0.496	0.863
2006	NYY	0.496	0.494	0.887

He was a regular on the Yomiuri Giants when he turned 20 in 1994 and put up fantastic numbers for his age. At that point he was still adjusting to a long schedule and a higher level of pitching. His MLB debut numbers are a step down from his JPL debut, but subsequent seasons are comparable; after a few years in Japan he was tearing the cover off the ball. He adjusted well in 2003, but was still far below his Japanese OPS. It’s my guess/hypothesis/theory/answer that he effectively reverted to his 1995-96 Japan form; in 03 he was like a young player becoming comfortable with his opposition. Either that or the acne scars are creating such air resistance he can’t get around on the ball. He and Julian Tavarez should open a haunted house or something.

We’ll see what happens in 2007; he’s only 33 in June.

What about those other guys?

So Taguchi became a regular in Japan in 1994. He was a productive hitter, but no superstar. A poor man’s Ichiro, if you will. He’s James Blake to Ichiro’s Roger Federer, and that might be generous. His production has remained constant since making the switch, although he was allowed some acclimation by his two years as a benchwarmer backup before he got significant time on the Cardinals.

So Taguchi		OBP	SLG	OPS
1994	Orix	0.354	0.419	0.773
1995	Orix	0.308	0.358	0.666
1996	Orix	0.321	0.371	0.672
1997	Orix	0.351	0.416	0.776
1998	Orix	0.338	0.386	0.724
1999	Orix	0.308	0.365	0.673
2000	Orix	0.353	0.389	0.742
2001	Orix	0.343	0.406	0.749
2002	STL	15 ABs
2003	STL	54 ABs
2004	STL	0.337	0.419	0.756
2005	STL	0.322	0.412	0.734
2006	STL	0.335	0.351	0.686

A player that relies on speed and mistake hitting is inherently less affected by his competition. He’ll still be fast and pitchers will still screw up regardless of the continent they’re on. However, Taguchi is old (37) and his speed is waning.

Tadahito Iguchi

He has yet to blossom as an MLB player, but there is reason for optimism in Chi-town. As a young player in Japan he was a woeful hacker, with 121 and 117 Ks in 98 and 99 versus 28 and 38 walks, respectively. He still struck out a lot from 02-04, but he learned to take a walk (81 BB in 2003). His ability to get on base improved fairly constantly every year in Japan and that ability has not been lost. 2002 was an injury-shortened anomaly.

Tadahito Iguchi		OBP	SLG	OPS
1998	FDH	0.280	0.432	0.712
1999	FDH	0.310	0.384	0.694
2000	FDH	0.317	0.457	0.774
2001	FDH	0.346	0.475	0.821
2002	FDH	0.317	0.423	0.740
2003	FDH	0.438	0.573	1.011
2004	FDH	0.394	0.549	0.943
2005	CWS	0.342	0.438	0.780
2006	CWS	0.352	0.422	0.774

The power he displayed in 03-04 is still missing, and he struck out more than any other AL second basemen last year (118), but his 05-06 MLB seasons are comparable to his 00-01 JPL service. He is still only 32; if he continues along the same trend and cuts down the whiffs he might be a surprise.

My friend Eric (aka “Spastic Ric”) had this to say about Iguchi: “He’s really hurt by Ozzie Guillen’s managing. All those g-d bunts and hit and runs in the two hole really cramp his style.”

Alright, then wtf happened to Kaz Matsui?!

I’ll try to make some sense of this dude and his stats, but no promises. His JPL numbers are off the charts. I don’t blame Steve Phillips for giving him that contract; although I do blame Steve-o for giving away Jason Bay and being an all-around idiot on Baseball Tonight.

Kaz improved dramatically nearly every season on Seibu until he reached the offensive shortstop stratosphere. It isn’t surprising that he struggled after landing in the New York pressure cooker, but that he failed to improve in subsequent years.

Kazuo Matsui		OBP	SLG	OPS
1996	SL	0.307	0.357	0.664
1997	SL	0.362	0.431	0.793
1998	SL	0.370	0.442	0.812
1999	SL	0.389	0.382	0.871
2000	SL	0.372	0.560	0.932
2001	SL	0.365	0.496	0.861
2002	SL	0.389	0.617	1.006
2003	SL	0.365	0.549	0.914
2004	NYM	0.331	0.396	0.727
2005	NYM	0.300	0.352	0.652
2006	NYM	0.235	0.269	0.504
2006	COL	0.392	0.504	0.896

Those 2006 Mets and Rockies numbers are in limited action (~120 ABs each) but maybe he’s figured it out since leaving the Big Apple. He was .476/.500 at Coors; so he actually hit for more power on the road. He was somewhere between “train-wreck” and “global pandemic” on the disaster scale while in New York, but he showed a similar level of awful in 96 as he adjusted to the JPL. I blame it on Shea. I wouldn’t wanna work in Queens either.

It looks like slap hitters that rely on speed are subject to a steeper learning curve that flattens sooner. The Ichiros and Taguchis keep the same philosophy they used in Japan; the Matsuis, Iguchis and likely, Iwamuras, take a little time to get used to individual pitchers and have to alter their game.

Akinori Iwamura		OBP	SLG	OPS
2000	YS	0.342	0.472	0.814
2001	YS	0.329	0.452	0.781
2002	YS	0.390	0.531	0.921
2003	YS	0.328	0.461	0.789
2004	YS	0.383	0.583	0.966
2005	YS	0.388	0.555	0.943
2006	YS	0.389	0.544	0.933

Even if he slips back to his 2001 production, his MLB debut will be a success.

Maybe the differences in production after the transition have nothing to do with talent, but are as simple as an adjustment from one set of opponents to another. When some players move from Asia to MLB their statistics essentially regress to the point at which they were making the transition from Koshien (or whatever level they were previously in) to professional ball. I’m not suggesting that high school talent is anywhere near pro talent, but baseball’s mano-a-mano nature puts matchups, and therefore familiarity with opponents at a premium. Sometimes this familiarity outweighs pure skill. While I’ve used Japan as an example, these principles apply throughout the game.

Next week: Pitchers

Japanese Stats courtesy of http://japanesebaseball.com

Todd Helton is a future Hall of Famer.

The heavy-hitting Rockies first basemen has quietly and consistently played at an elite level over the past 10 seasons, with a career OPS+ (park adjusted) of 143, as well as stellar defense behind the bag. 

However, when the rumors of a possible trade to the Red Sox began to leak, I could not help but feel some apprehension. 

Unfortunately, just as impressive as Todd’s batting average are the numbers on his outrageous contract.  You see, Todd (who will be 34 in August) has 6 years and $90 million owed to him, courtesy of the same guys who made Mike Hampton the richest man in Colorado.  Now that the JD Drew deal is apparently finalized, the Red Sox are not exactly flexible, in terms of payroll. 

The team currently has Kevin Youkilis slotted in at 1B for 2007.  In his first full season, Kevin played good defense and provided a solid .810 OPS.  His first-half OPS was .874, which is probably a better indicator of his ceiling, as the young player likely wore down over the long season.  Kevin’s 2006 salary was nearly 1/50^th of Helton’s, and his 2006 production wasn’t far off.  With the Sox spending big on so many other areas on the field, why would they take on a humongous contract at a position where they have cheap talent?

In addition to this, I present to you what we bean-counters like to refer to as “a red flag”.

Todd Helton’s Road OPS:

2004: .990 (age 31)
2005: .871 (age 32)
2006: .781 (age 33)

This should not be much of a surprise to anyone.  I’m sure you’re familiar with the Coors Effect, and that OPS trend is your typical regression of a player who is entering his mid-30’s.  That 2006 line is a bit troubling to me.  As a comparison, Kevin Youkilis’ road OPS was only .007 lower than Helton’s, and Youkilis is 28 years old.  Add in the factor that Helton will be coming to the American League, a place where most baseball people feel the competition is a bit stiffer than the NL West, and there are quite a few things to consider before endorsing this deal.

At this point, the talks are just that: talks.  There isn’t much indication that a deal is imminent, and there hasn’t been much certainty as to which players the Sox would send to Colorado.  The names of Craig Hansen and Matt Clement (plus the obligatory prospects) have been bandied about.  Colorado would likely be asked to send some cash in lieu of Helton’s price tag.

As it currently stands, I am wary of this potential deal.  None of us can be sure how high the Red Sox ownership is willing to go in the payroll department, but if the threshold is anywhere near the current amount, Helton’s contract could become a very jagged pill, as Red Sox Nation watches the future Hall of Famer embark on that melancholy journey upon which all athletes must embark: the road to the sunset of a once great career. 

 

Well, that was fun…

After two weeks of pouring through writing samples, and trying to figure out the internet to get them set up over here, I made my choice as to Sully’s replacement.

Which is to say I copped out because I couldn’t pick. So I choose the two that I think mesh best with the site’s direction. That’s right, friends, we have two new writers.

The first is Jim DiPetrillo. Jim was born in Johnston, RI and went to Lou Gorman’s old college, Stonehill. Right now, he’s working in finance for Boston University, where he jumped on Jack Parker’s bandwagon. He has the added advantage of being older than I am, so I can make mention of how Tyson Wheeler broke my 17 year old heart, and he “gets” it. He likes out-doorsy stuff like hiking, and eating sushi, two things I have no use for. He doesn’t put out on the first date, ladies (or lady).

The other new writer in these parts is Zach Menchini. Zach is from Lower Canada (Vermont), having been born in 1984, which puts him at the same age as my brother. My brother is the Oscar to my George Sr. (The 15 people out there that get that joke know my pain). He’s an Orangeman from Syracuse, not Holland, which is to say that Carmelo Anthony is his hero. He currently works for a non-profit in Manhattan, and has the nickname “The Beard” which I’m to assume means that he actually marries gay men so no one knows they are gay. Which seems very counter-productive if you ask me.

We’ll be getting back to a more normal writing schedule leading up to the season, with two features coming up, one by me and one by Zach. Then in late February, you’ll be treated to 30 profiles for the 2007 season, which will involve a lot of snark. Unfortunately for you long time readers, the Oakland preview will be done by Jim, which means you won’t see me accusing Danny Haren of heroin use for the third straight year. Everything must come to an end sometime.

So welcome Jim and Zach, and I hope you, the reader, continues to come to Dewey’s House.

Because Trot Nixon was pardoned by the Indians, and Mark Shapiro is officially laying in state in Michigan.

Trot Nixon signing a 1 yr/$3 million contract with Cleveland effectively ends a Red Sox career that started back during the Lou Gorman Reign of Horror (Remember, Jeff Bagwell wasn’t my fault!!).  He’s been a Sox player essentially since 1993, making 2006 the 14th year he was property of the baseballin’ Bostonians, and there has likely not been as polarizing player at the sub-superstar level.  At least not since I was a wee lad.

Since he was ripped from the clutches of the Wolfpack (North Carolina State, not the WCW wrestling stable), he was tagged as a member of the overpaid potential club…stories of Nixon’s future greatness were drowned out by inconsistent minor league performance and injury.

When he was required by CBA to stick with the big club in 1999, he was routinely booed as Jimy Williams stuck with him despite a miniscule batting average over the first six weeks of the season.  Eventually, he got hot and made a late run at American League Rookie of the Year (he finished 9^th, eventually won by career mediocrity Carlos Beltran).  Nixon developed into a fan favorite, creating offense at a highish level, and being the quiet, intense, gritty player that fans fall in love with.  Nixon left it all on the field.

By the way, Carlos Beltran is one of my favorite players in baseball.  The career mediocrity is tongue in cheek.  Save the e-mails.

Nixon created a career out of hitting the crap out of right-handed pitching and then suffering from muscle pulls and missing 40 games a year.  Between 2001 and 2005, he never had a slightly above average year with the bat…always being among the best hitting right fielders in the American League providing two criteria are met.  The pitcher was a northpaw and he was actually able to play.

It wasn’t until 2001 where his niche was secured.  He was the non-nonsense yin to Manny Ramirez’s disengaged yang.  He wanted to be in Boston.  He worked hard.  He just shut up and played.  There was no “Trade me or don’t, man” crap with Nixon.  Of course people that paid attention to such things noticed that Nixon obviously bought into his own hype on the field.  Against the Angels in 2003, he tossed the ball into the stands thinking it was the 3^rd out of the inning.  It was only the 2^nd.  Against the Royals in 2004, he dove for a ball rather than play it on the hop at Fenway, and laid there as it rolled into the corner to let Johnny Damon chase it down.  In 2001, his heads-down base running got Carl Everett eliminated on the paths in the 9^th inning with the Sox down one.  And the seemingly endless parade of seemingly minor injuries  that never quite healed on schedule.  Only twice, 2001 and 2002, he had over 600 plate appearances.  The contrast between the two got to the point where every Manny negative was then compared to a Nixon positive, and then the positive was countered by a Nixon negative.

After 1999, he was never booed, but he wasn’t revered anymore.  Nixon was the Red Sox that got the injury ball rolling in 2006, pulling his oblique muscle in July.  When he returned, he was sapped of his power, and there was some clamoring on sports talk radio and message boards that maybe it was time to send Trot to pasture.  His death warrant was signed by Theo Epstein with the acquisition of JD Drew (yes, I understand the irony there).

Nixon had some tremendous moments for the Red Sox, from being the only player who played hard during the entire 2001 campaign to the Memorial Day homer off Clemens, to the ALDS Game 3 homer to the double he ripped in the 2004 World Series.  For this, he should never be forgotten.  But the legacy of Nixon is a little bit more dark.  He was an obviously flawed player whose deficiencies were ignored because he fit the mold of what a baseball player should be.  It wasn’t until he became a disaster in the field in September when the perceived good was outweighed by the obvious bad that most fans resigned themselves to welcome the era of Nixon.  In that way, he was kind of like the ex-president, supported until the contrary evidence became overwhelming.

Hey folks.

First off, I would like to thank Pat for all the hard work that he did. I started this site as just a place where I could vent about the Red Sox. Pat made it more than that. As real life intervened he built this place from a place to vent to a place people might actually want to come to and read. The viability of the site is owed to him, and I’m grateful. I wish him luck with Baseball Analysts (a terrific site).

The good news that that he said that he will be making the occasional guest appearance over here, for you Sullyphiles out there.

Now, the future of the site. As long time readers know, I only write a few times a month in season, and less so in the offseason. Obviously, a baseball blog cannot survive with that schedule.

That’s why I’m looking to create a new Sully. If you are interested in writing for The House That Dewey Built, just shoot me an e-mail (jkuhn22@gmail.com) and I’ll give you a column topic to file with me. The best one I get by February will get a permanent spot as the lead columnist at Dewey’s House.

All you need to be is:

1. A Red Sox fan

2. A good writer

3. Able to take an analytical look at baseball

4. Able to write 3+ times a week

We get a fairly solid readership, so this is a pretty good oppertunity to get your ideas seen by giants in our blogsphere like Rich Lederer or Patrick Sullivan. So there we are…the future in the site is in your hands. Let me know if you want to keep it going, chums.

This will be my last post on Dewey’s House.  It’s been a blast, and allowed me to have an outlet to share some of my thoughts and opinions on two of the things I love most in this world; baseball and the Boston Red Sox.  Lo and behold, some of you even liked to hear what I had to say.  What this opportunity that Jeff Kuhn extended to me three years ago has also afforded me is one of the most unlikely and special friendships I have ever forged with another individual.

Over the last two-plus years, Rich Lederer, proprietor and chief contributor of the Baseball Analysts, has become a real pal.  If you read this site from time to time, you most likely know of Rich’s site, its widespread influence and consistent high-quality output.  What you probably do not know is the coincidental circumstances that led to our friendship. 

Rich lives in Long Beach, California, about a half-mile from where my wife grew up.  While we would trade emails and IM’s from time to time about baseball, it was not until we discovered these coincidences that our frienship started to blossom.  Rich’s son Joe even went to middle school with my wife Johanna.     

Rich joined a bunch of my best pals at Trump National LA for a golf outing on Thursday, December 28 and attended my wedding last Saturday, the 30th.  The ceremony was held at a church that more or less split the difference between Rich’s house and Johanna’s childhood home, and then Rich joined us for one helluva party in Palos Verdes.  I left for Cabo San Lucas on New Year’s Eve, returned on Thursday and met up with Rich for some Happy Hour cocktails back in Long Beach last Friday.

It was there that we solidified plans for me to become a contributor to his site.  It was one of the most flattering offers I have ever received and a no-brainer for a couple of reasons.  One, with my new job, I have less time to update as often as I would like.  I have been posting a paragraph here and there every now and again but have not been producing anything of real length or quality (though I was pleased with my long JD Drew entry).  I will be posting just once a week on Rich’s site, and his editing and idea generation will help me to maximize my output given my time, and let’s face it, ability constraints.  The second reason is obvious.  Rich’s site is a real standout in an increasingly crowded blogosphere, and his invitation allows me a larger platform.  I don’t do this professionally and don’t think I have any real ambition with respect to writing, but I do want to be the best writer I can be and joining the Baseball Analysts helps me to pursue that end.

Finally, I would like to thank Jeff.  Jeff started Dewey’s House, is its most creative and thoughtful voice and knows more about baseball than most people have forgotten.  I would never have even considered blogging had Jeff not extended this invite.  Three-and-a-half years, a friend for life and one helluva cool opportunity later, I can safely say that blogging has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.  Jeff has told me that he does not have plans for the future of the site yet, but will make an announcement shortly.

Thanks for stopping by over the years and I look forward to your continued readership at the Baseball Analysts.