Mike Lowell is scheduled to have hip surgery on Monday.  The surgery will repair his labrum and “shave off a big bone spur”.  Even though I’ve watched dozens of episodes of House, I’m not sure what the shaving of bone spurs entails.  I imagine it’s something I would not like to see.

Hopefully, this procedure will allow Mike to resemble his 2006-2007 self next season.  He’ll be 35 in 2009.  Old, but not ancient by 21st century MLB standards.  He just might have another year or two of quality baseball left in him.  Or, we might have witnessed the end of Lowell’s career as a productive baseball player.  It could go either way, and we won’t find out until the warm embrace of spring.

On a side note, I’m going to apologize for my lack of coverage of these ALCS games.  My main problem is this: when it comes to the Boston Red Sox, I’m a fan first and a writer second.  These last two games have been so putrid, so revolting, that the act of conjuring up a memory of a single inning will give me polio.  If I try to write about even a minute detail, I will swallow my tongue and choke to death.  You want to know how I watch these games?  I mute the TV, turn off the lights, and sit in silence.  I ignore the reassurances and pleading of friends and loved ones, focusing solely on the unforgiving screen in front of me.  The only sensory stimulation I allow myself are the colors.  Beautiful, horrifying colors.  It’s a sight that might be amusing to some, frightening to others, but sad to most.

The good news is that the worst is over.  I’ve developed a che sera sera attitude towards the remaining game(s) of the ALCS.  Daisuke might win another one, or he might not.  Either way, I’ll have lunch on Friday.