Brian McGrory really should never write about sports.
He really has no clue. He attempts to wax poetically about the time when the Red Sox were lovable losers, but can't even manage a decent impression of Doris Kearns Goodwin in this regard.
But ya know what? Time for something happy:
You know it's bad when even Heidi Watney gets dragged into the mud (and comes up slugging; denies that rumored fling with Varitek).
Chicago columnist welcomes Theo Epstein:
Epstein, see, has yet to win a Series without a juiced-up middle of the order. ...
I want Epstein to succeed. I'd love for the Cubs to win a World Series just to see whether that indeed marks the apocalypse.
But it's hard to get past the idea of the most embarrassing franchise in sports empowering the man in charge of the most embarrassing death spiral in baseball history without concluding that, yep, the Cubs are getting exactly what you'd expect.
Meanwhile, back here in Boston, Paul Flannery asks:
So, anyone want to buy a Fenway brick?
The Globe details some of what was going on in the clubhouse as the Sox collapsed last month. Not pretty; give Francona props for talking, at least.
Or how about a commemorative beer cozy?
Bruce Allen examines the delight the Globe - not just Shank - took in the collapse of the Red Sox.
Because it was spread out over an entire month. Good God.
David Bernstein has been tweeting the wicked low turnout numbers today in the preliminary council races in districts 2, 3 and 7:
To increase turnout, Boston ballot should have included a referendum on who to blame for Red Sox collapse.
The bullpen held it together long enough for Ellsbury to hit another home run and keep the Sox a game in front for the wild card. Sign of things to come, or dead-cat bounce?
Yes, let's all think "2004," shall we?
If you are a 10-year-old Boston sports fan, you have seen remarkable, glorious things. You have seen two Red Sox World Series titles, three Patriots Super Bowl trophies, a Celtics NBA title, and a Bruins Stanley Cup.
But that's not Boston.
That's a bizarre fantasyland. You are residing in a utopian city where every team wins, almost all of the time, and there's at least one giant Duck Boat parade every couple of years. You've got a closet full of championship hats. Your arm is sore from throwing confetti.
The New York Times takes a long look at Ted Williams in 1941:
It is a 20th-century baseball masterpiece unlike any other, carved not across one World Series, one month or even 56 games but from April 15 to Sept. 28. Every single at-bat figured in the outcome, unlike when a hitter chases home run records.
Red Sox Nation, that is. Boston Police report arresting a Plymouth woman on charges she stole another woman's purse at last night's Red Sox game.
According to police, witnesses saw Margaret A. Donahue, 40, use her foot to move the purse of another woman seated out in the right-field area, then reach down, pick it up and walk away:
The purse along with its contents was recovered and the suspect placed under arrest. Once placed under arrest, the suspect began to struggle with officers and made numerous phone calls to 911 requesting the presence of additional officers alleging misconduct by officers.
Dan Shaughnessy Watch reads today's gleeful, error-riddled column so you don't have to.
Yes, Tim Wakefield finally got his 200th win.
Peter Abraham offers one up, just in case.
The Red Sox are 5-3 when Don Orsillo wears a gray tie with stripes.
If you're not a Sox fan, you missed this commercial during last night's game. At least it was a break from the millionth repetition of those SouthWest People's Court ads and gazillionth airing of the Coors commercials that alternate between idiots getting angry with beer bottles and idiots showing how much they'd rather do anything than spend time with their girlfriends:
From the media that brought you Wussy Jacoby Ellsbury (remember last year?) comes the tale of Failed Carl Crawford. Don Martelli wonders if they're just a bit too eager to jump into a hate parade.