Best. Record. In Baseball.

'Nuff ced.

First!

Last night was, for Red Sox fans across New England, an appropriate way to celebrate the return of autumn. As the temperature finally fell and brought the crisp air into Boston lungs, the Red Sox looked sharp as they've ever been, dropping the Minnesota Twins 5-2. The win reduced the Sox's magic number to a surmountable single game, but with the Yankees winning in Baltimore as the final out was recorded at Fenway clinching looked like it was going to wait.

Just like the fans, who huddled down in the cold ballpark seats to watch the end of the Yankee game. Lucky for them and lucky for the fans at home, the Birds mounted quite a comeback, knotting the game at 9 with a bases-clearing triple from former Sox Jay Payton. In the bottom of the 10th, with the bases once again juiced, Melvin Mora dropped the bunt to end all bunts and the players and remaining fans partied like it was 1995 in the old ballpark.

After the stress and exhaustion of the last two weeks, seeing the Sox clinch the division title before the last game was a fantastic feeling. It is, to be certain, just a small step on the way to what I hope will be a World Series trophy, but it represents much more than that. It represents, for the first time in a long while, the ability to succeed without utter failure as a prerequisite. The Sox had held the lead in the East from April 18 on out, and despite the fact that the Yankees were as many as ten games out, nobody with half a brain once believed the Bombers were truly out if it. Not when they had an All-Star at almost every position.

So sure, the division crown isn't the World Series, but it sure is swell.

Welcome to Cooperstown*

We've all heard the story about Marc Ecko putting the baseball that Barry Bonds rocketed into the San Francisco seats for the all-time home run record: Ecko won the auction on EBay, created a website, and allowed fans to vote on the fate of the ball. The options were to send the ball to the Hall of Fame, brand it with an asterisk and then send it to the Hall, or blast it into space.

Surprise, the branders have it. Even more of a surprise, Dale Petrosky and the Hall of Fame will accept and display it, asterisk and all.

I think this whole scenario is entirely appropriate. The entire steroids controversy stemmed from a desire to please fanse and draw them into the ballparks after the idiocy of the 1994 strike. It was fueled by the McGwire/Sosa chase for the single season record, and it burst into flame when men the size of mountains began collecting awards and record-breaking contracts. At its heart, though, are the fans. It's only fair that the lone third of the iron triangle of professional sports without any true power to affect change within the game take advantage of this situation.

The Hall of Fame is in no way associated with Major League Baseball as an organization, therefore there should be no shame in acceptinng the item. If anything, the purpose of the Hall is to enshrine all the evolutions of the game since its inception, meaning that the 756 ball should be the centerpiece for The Steroid Era exhibit.

Oh yea, and the whole thing pisses the heck out of Barry, who can do nothing but point out the money Ecko spent.

This is definitely a good thing.

A Bad Name

An interesting piece ran in the Globe this morning concerning those fans that players and radio hosts always talk about when something bad happens. We've all been there, standing at the ballpark waist-high in hyperactive kids collecting autographs like so many pieces of candy while we collect nothing more than dirty looks from the players and waste time to be social before the ball game absorbs all of our attention.

Now I'm not going to lie, I love collecting autographs as much as the next guy. It's always cool to say hello to a professional ballplayer, regardless of who he is, and they look great in the office. Problem is, too many times its not about the love of the game when fans and players meet.

If you've ever been to Cooperstown for Hall of Fame Weekend and the induction ceremony, you've seen more people line up to talk to former players than you thought could physically fit in one sleepy New York village. That means you've also see the seedy looking memorabilia dealers sauntering up and down the steamy sidewalks with boxes of cards, photographs, baseballs and bats waiting to be signed and sold.

Frankly, it's a little sad. Not sad that people make their living off memorabilia (it is oftentimes a legitimate enterprise, after all), but sad that there are some people that get so greedy that they box out the ones who just want to get close to a star for a second. There should be some sort of forum where dealers get the items they want while toeing it up with their competitors. That way there wouldn't be any need for hesitation on the part of that players when teenagers and even moms or dads line up and ask politely for an autograph.

Kevin Youkilis appropriately references the explosion of new technology as one of the biggest contributing factors in this privacy vacuum, and he's spot on. The article you're currently reading (as you're well aware) is part of this explosion, with the round-the-clock news coverage both on the air and online allowing for Average Joe Fan to start, say, his own sports blog to make his own informed opinion heard.

Et tu, Brute? thought the audience.

One of the thing that I personally have struggled with, and I'm sure there are countless other bloggers and internet authors out there who would echo the sentiment, is "what does it mean to be a fan in today's environment?" I can watch and listen to every major league game, and I can even fill the off days with minor league matches. In the winter I can listen to and talk baseball with my XM subscription, all the while feeling like I am more than the average fan because of the amount of information I may be able to spit up in a split second.

The truth is, I'm not. I'm just an average fan, just like the guys over at Dewey's House are fans, the pundits and Sons of Sam Horn are fans, and David Pinto at Baseball Musings is a fan. We all have given a piece of our soul to this team, and in that way we're all the same. Some might have already known that Terry Francona was the only Sox manager in history to lead the team to the postseason three times, and still others may have just learned it this morning. Either way you cut it, we're all fans. And as fans, we need to remember to keep our distance. I can never be a player or coach, and neither can a lot of the bloggers in the 'sphere.

The Red Sox may be as important a part of New England as autumn and lobster, but in the end they're just people, too. We have to remember that everything we do as fans impacts them not only as players, but also as people. It's sad to think that some people can't keep the fact that there is a separation between fan and athlete, and even sadder to think that such indiscretion can ruin the experience of those who have no such trouble.

You Know What? I Changed My Mind: This Is What You Look Forward To.

In the fall of my junior year at college I was exposed to two things that truly launched my obsession with the Red Sox: cable television and MLB GameDay. Though I had experienced the former occasionally, my family didn't subscribe to cable until I had left for school. When I reached campus I was able to watch the Sox daily. MLB GameDay was just something of which I was entirely ignorant. This fall reminds me of that fall.

This is what you look forward to as a baseball fan, isn't it? This is the month, these are the weeks when numbers mean everything, when a hanging breaking ball can turn the tide of a pennant race, when a routine play can hiccup only slightly and do the same. This is the time of year when caps are worn constantly, when family members stand still and routines upheld for hours at a time, so long as they're lucky. This is when true fans emerge from the summer daze and stand bright eyed in the autumn crisp, laying a weight so heavy upon the backs of mundane plays that they become providential, depending on the deep-seeded belief held by each individual.

That junior fall I became best friends with the library, not out of any great academic necessity but out of concern for my baseball team: when I was at the library, the Red Sox won. I'd bet that most of you readers don't know that the resurgence after being down 0-2 to Oakland was due to me, do you? I thought not.

In 2003 I locked myself in the library during every game after the first two losses. I was driven there by disgust, by a desperate need to spare myself pain and embarassment after a long season of stuggles. I tried as long as I could to avoid thinking about the games, but when all you have is the varied masterpieces of the French Renaissance to hold your attention a baseball game is far more inviting. In any case, I made a deal with myself in that I couldn't check the score until I had read a specific number of pages. At that point I would allow myself to at least to find the score online.

When I walked up to the computer the first time, I noted something funny: the Sox were doing ok. Quick check done, I returned diligently to my studies. Twenty minutes later I would do the same thing, only to notice the same result. The Sox were playing well. I decided at that point to see if my newfound routine would hold up to the test of a third go-round.

It did, and I continued to go back to the computers each night until the night of Game 7 in New York. On that night I watched the game with friends, and on that night we not only lost, we lost for good.

So why am I writing this, especially now that the Red Sox have clinched a playoff spot with their seat-of-their-pants win aat Tampa Bay this evening? Simply, because this fall I've kept my ear to the ground, I've found my routines, and I find myself thinking just how nice it is to even have a pennant race to look forward to. It's nice driving home from work or out to run an errand and just wanting to listen to the radio pundits because they would talk about all the newly-minted magic numbers. Because once again, this fall is like that fall.

Keep your ear to the ground.

F!#cking Yankees...

You know what I can't stand? People who proclaim extremes.

"The Sox have the division locked up in June," they crowed.

"This is 1978 all over again. What's the score of the Bruins game?" they cried.

This has certainly been a season of ups and downs, but no matter how hard one tries it has been definitely more of the former and much less of the latter. Up until recently the team has been healthy. Kevin "Pincushion" Youkilis managed to avoid any serious time on the sideline until this weekend's series against New York, Manny's offense was replaced by Jacoby Ellsbury's defense... oh yea, and his offense, too. David Ortiz, despite battling leg and back pain since the start of the season, has managed to catapult his numbers from the below average to somewhere near their normal levels. The starting staff, despite Curt Schilling's tendency to hang just one, game-deciding bad pitch, Matsuzaka's uncanny ability to turn pitching magic into pitching mayhem in the span of one at-bat, and Tim Wakefield's balky back, has kept the Red Sox in first place in the AL East while the Yankees set the planet on fire and swept up the ashes with a thunderous attack since the All-Star Break.

Things could be worse.

All though the box scores and the standings don't reflect it (and although they count the most) the weekend series against the Bombers was really a good showing. The offense came to life in the first two games, and the starters were better than expected against the best offense (in every category, mind you) in baseball this year. It sucks to see the lead buzzed down to 3 1/2 games with only one week to go, but given all the holes the Sox are trying to plug in the race to the finish, it really isn't all that bad.

If the lead gets to lower than where it stands now (and that's certainly likely given the remaining schedule for the Yanks), it's definitely going to be panic central here in Boston. But really, let's just focus on what's really important:

We're still in first place, and we want to make the playoffs come hell or high water.

Buchholz One Better (Than Schilling)

The first Red Sox rookie and only the third pitcher to do it in his first two starts, 23 year old Buchholz threw his first major league no-hitter for his second big league win. It was the 17th no-hitter in Red Sox history, and the 20th no-hitter thrown by a rookie in the history of organized ball.

Buchholz needed only 115 pitches to put down the sorry Baltimore Orioles, racking up nine strikeouts along the way. The difference-maker tonight was Buchholz's changeup, dropping from a directly overhead arm slot and hidden release point to hit the dirt and make even experienced hitters look foolish.

The only other pitchers to toss a no-no within their first two starts were Bobo Holloman in 1953 with the St. Louis Browns and Wilson Alvarez in 1991 with the Chicago White Sox. Unfortunately, the early successes of both pitchers didn't necessarily punch the tickets to Cooperstown for them. Holloman had only one season in the bigs, going 3-7 with a 5.23 ERA. Alvarez was certainly better, a 14 year career ending in 2005 with a 102-92 career record and 3.96 career ERA. With any luck, Buchholz will have a long, successful career in Boston.

Talk About Timing

This is the way it goes, right? The Red Sox go into Yankee Stadium with an eight game lead in the American League East, get swept away in three games, scoring only six runs in response to the Yankees' fourteen, and then give up nine more in a home loss to the Orioles? What's more, Manny Ramirez is out with that phantom of phantom injuries, the strained oblique, David Ortiz is still hurting, J.D. Drew (despite miserable production) leaves the game with a bad foot, and his replacement Bobby Kielty is nursing an injury as well.

Timing is certainly everything.

First of all, let's get one thing clear: the sky is not falling. Yet.

The Sox still have a five game lead thanks to Tampa Bay's absolute pounding of New York, 9-1. In my opinion they still have the best pitching staff in the AL East at the very least, regardless their recent record. Their offense, though strangely quiet, can still put together some runs, but they really need to start coming out of their funk. My solution? Start at the top.

It has to start with Terry Francona. Nobody was more upset than I was over the whole "Shirtgate" incident at the Stadium this week, but sob stories aside, Francona needs a stern talking to. His lineup use is absolutely awful and has been all season. Any fan worth their salt can tell you that Coco Crisp and Julio Lugo should never be put north of the sixth spot in the order, yet Francona, valuing the speed of both players, manages to consistently ignore their lack of on-base ability and place them up top from time to time. J.D. Drew, for his part, shouldn't be in the game with as much consistency as he has been lately. Against Andy Pettitte, a soft-tossing lefty, I would have much preferred Kielty's right-handed swing to Drew's long, loopy (albeit beautiful) left-handed one. This has really got to stop. Find a lineup that works and stick with it with only minor alterations. Keep Youkilis and Pedroia up top in front of Ortiz and Ramirez (when he can play) and just deal, end of story.

The interesting thing about all these injuries is that they're hitting just as the rosters expand for September, meaning Jacoby Ellsbury and his pals will hopefully be seeing more playing time. For my part, I'd love to see Ellsbury in centerfield, Crisp put in left, and then keep Kielty in right (assuming Drew takes a few days off). I think that would allow for Coco to get a little bit of a break by playing in front of the Wall, and give Ellsbury a chance to show off his chops just a bit more. In Pawtucket this year Jacoby has managed to post .298/.360/.380. His power is disappointing to be sure, but he's a player with just enough guts and brains to make a difference in the injury-ridden interim.

Let's hope we can just plug the holes in the lineup long enough to get our heavy hitters hitting again.