Farewell, Friend

CBSBoston: Fenway Park PA Announcer Carl Beane killed in one-car crash: http://cbsloc.al/Kn3pkC

Received on my BlackBerry at 4:17pm yesterday

Carl Beane lets the Triumphant Red Sox Fan try on his 2004 World Series ring, June 21, 2005.

Carl Beane was the kind of person who felt like a friend even if you had never met him.

To listeners of the Massachusetts radio stations where Carl was a broadcaster for the past 40 years, he was the guy who brought them the sports reports, covering everything from high school to the pros with sincerity and professionalism. Others knew him as the mellifluous voice welcoming them to Fenway Park and introducing each batter who came to the plate. To the men who played at Fenway, whether for the home team or the visitors, he was someone who went out of his way to learn the correct pronunciation of each player. The NESN and WEEI game broadcasters in the booth next to his and the beat writers down the hall considered him a respected colleague.

Some of us had the good fortune to become personally acquainted with Carl. In my case, it happened through his wife, who works for the same company I do and brought him into work one summer day in 2005 so her co-workers could get a peek at his 2004 World Series ring. She booked a conference room and spread the word that anyone who wished was welcome to stop by and see it, try it on, have their picture taken with it. Carl must have spent an hour and a half entertaining a steady stream of people, but he was every bit as excited to share the symbol of long-awaited victory with them as they were to touch it for a few magical seconds.

Over the next seven years, I met up with Carl from time to time. There were spring training vacations to Fort Myers during which he was there to do the public address honors at City of Palms Park. Or the time I ran into him during a Fenway tour and introduced him to some out-of-state friends who were big Sox fans. My mother met him for the first time after we attended a game and almost literally ran into him afterward in the concourse, when we were leaving and he was rushing from the public address booth to the clubhouse to do post-game interviews for his radio job. Even when in a hurry, he took a few seconds to be friendly and gracious.

But my favorite Carl Beane story unfolded at a minor league hockey game in Worcester. I was sitting a row in front of Carl and Lorraine when a small group of teenage boys a few seats down noticed the flashy jewelry on Carl’s finger. Seemingly without a thought that these young men were complete strangers and this was a $15,000 ring, Carl slipped it off, handed it to one of the boys, and invited him to pass it around so everyone could check it out.

When I attended last Friday evening’s Red Sox game with my mother, my friend Karen, and Karen’s family, I had no way of knowing it would be the last time I would hear Carl’s voice in person. I didn’t see him, but Karen did, meeting him at the park three hours before game time for a previously arranged personal tour in honor of her son’s birthday and her granddaughter’s first visit to Fenway. In addition to getting their pictures taken with Carl’s ring (the 2004 version, that night), they were also invited to step out onto the field during batting practice. In talking about what a great job he did in his role as the voice of Fenway Park, Karen told Carl that, if he wanted it, he would have the job for the rest of his life. And he did.

The Red Sox left on a brief road trip after Sunday’s game. Carl was going about his other business around mid-day yesterday when he suffered some sort of attack—a heart attack, the reports are saying—while driving, lost consciousness, and drifted off the road. He probably never knew what hit him.

People who were much closer to him than I was—his wife, daughter, grandchildren, step-children, neighbors, professional colleagues, and close friends—are mourning in ways that the rest of us aren’t. But for every person on Carl’s Christmas card list, there are countless others who associate his voice with some of the most entertaining moments of their lives and will miss it.

The Red Sox are preparing to pay tribute to Carl Beane before tonight’s game. I hope they will continue the tribute throughout the evening by leaving the announcer’s booth empty and the microphone still, so the fans in the stands, the “ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls” Carl greeted en masse before every game, can hear him in their memories one more time.

You Say It’s Your Birthday

Fenway Park's Yawkey Way facade as captured with my phone October 18, 2010

It isn’t every day that you get to celebrate a 100th birthday. As rare as it is with people, it’s even rarer with ballparks. Unprecedented, in fact. Today we wish a happy 100th birthday to Fenway Park.

Today could have been a day of twin celebrations in Major League Baseball. On this date in 1912, when the first game was played at Fenway (after two days of rain-outs) Detroit’s Navin Field, later renamed Tiger Stadium, also hosted its first game. But after the 1999 season, Tiger Stadium was torn down while still a spry 87.

Wearing my pride

So now, Fenway stands alone. It’s big deal in a country where shiny new stadiums are increasingly popular, where historic buildings of all types often don’t survive unless local ordinances mandate preservation. In Boston, the preservation was mandated by the fans, who rose up against the former owners’ determination to tear it down and start fresh, and affirmed by new owners who have spent hundreds of millions of dollars not refurbishing and enhancing it.

Even as I wear my “B” logo earrings as a personal tribute, other commendations to the old ball yard abound on the web:

• The Hartford Courant has a basic visual tutorial about the ballpark.

• Yahoo! Sports ranks history’s 10 most historic stadiums (of any sport) and even though the Roman Colosseum came in first, Fenway was right behind it.
  

  Two World Wars, The Great Depression, nothing stopped baseball and the park was always bustling with loyal fans. No other stadium compares to Fenway Park and no other baseball stadium stands today that was built before it.

• Fenway’s jealous younger sibling weighs in.
  

  My name is Wrigley Field. And I’ll try not to be resentful and jealous this week.

  You realize what Friday is, right? Yeah, the 100th birthday for that insufferable cousin of mine in the northeast, Fenway Park.

  They’ll be going all gaga the next few days over the little twerp. He thinks he’s so cute, there with his Green Monster. I hope he has a power outage.

• CBS News gets the perspective of comedian, Worcester native, and lifelong Sox fan Denis Leary.
  

  Leary said, “That’s the thing about Fenway Park. Even in these seats or those seats, you feel like you can reach out and choke the opposing players with your bare hands at any given moment. And sometimes you feel like choking a Red Sox player.”

• Over at ESPN.com, Jim Caple pays tribute.
  

  I hope Fenway Park lasts to celebrate a second full century in baseball. Although I shudder to think what ticket and beer prices could be there in 2112.

  [ . . . ]

  “What a cathedral. It’s like going to church,” said Tim Wakefield, who pitched 17 seasons at Fenway before retiring this spring. “The stadium is the star here. Fenway is the star.”

• The New England Sports Network, the cable TV station that is partially owned by the Sox and carries all their games that aren’t nationally televised, marks the 100th birthday with 100 interesting ballpark facts.
  

  10. The Green Monster was originally blue and featured many white advertisements.

  [ . . . ]

  17. The [grandstand] seats at Fenway are made out of Oak wood.

  [ . . . ]

  59. Fenway Park is 20 feet above sea level.

  [ . . . ]

  81. Earl Wilson no-hit the Angels on June 26, 1962, becoming the first african-american pitcher to throw a no-hitter in the American League.

  [ . . . ]

  95. [Boston Mayor] John. F. Fitzgerald, grandfather of John F. Kennedy, started the tradition of tossing out the first pitch.

• A Christian Science Monitor correspondence and Orioles fan now living in Massachusetts expresses her appreciation of the role the old ball yard will play in her young daughter’s life.
  

  [A]s parents, we have come to accept that when our daughter grows into her team — when she starts memorizing on base percentages and ERAs, when she insists on showing up early for batting practice and the chance to get a player’s signature, when she becomes aghast that we (or her grandparents) have tossed out old dusty boxes of baseball cards that were cluttering up a basement — we will root along side her.

  So happy birthday, Fenway Park. We’ll learn to love you. Or at least accept that you’ll give our daughter happiness.

There are many more accolades and others will come. The Red Sox held a free open house for the public yesterday and will mark the actual anniversary this afternoon with special ceremonies and a game against the New York Highlanders (now the Yankees), the same team that played at the grand opening. Both teams will wear vintage uniforms. It isn’t quite the same as logo earrings, but it will do.

The Joy of Fanship

When I arrived at work this morning, I had an email from my friend and co-worker, Karen, who typically arrives at least 90 minutes before I do. The message said only to come over because she had something to show me.

Karen is a big Red Sox fan. We have gone to a few games together (wins, thanks to Karen’s magic fairy dust, but that’s a story for another time) and have enjoyed the February ritual in Boston known as Truck Day a few times as well. Since we’re planning another Truck Day celebration this year (Saturday, February 11—mark your calendars), I presumed that’s what she wanted to see me about.

Instead, she had a picture to show me from a function she attended last evening with Worcester County Sheriff Lew Evangelidis. Karen is a bit of a political junkie, a big fan of Evangelidis, and most recently a reserve deputy sheriff (which I tell her will be humanity’s last line of defense at the zombie apocalypse). Last night, Karen watched politics meet baseball.

Karen with El Tiante and his famous mustache

I don’t mind telling you that I love Luis Tiant. I loved him during his time with the Sox, eight years in the prime of his 19-year career. His appearance and demeanor were like a sort of Cuban Santa Claus. I loved his wind-up, the way he would twist around until he was almost facing the second baseman—quite a feat for a rightie—before finally letting loose. (Karen also reminded me about what she calls the “Tiant wiggle,” where he’d hold the baseball in both hands in front of his face, then lower it to belt-level, sort of rocking the ball as it went down.) I loved how more than 38% of his career starts were complete games, something that today’s coddled superstars can’t even imagine. To this day, Tiant is either first or second in most pitches thrown in a postseason game for game 4 of the 1975 World Series, a 5-4 victory over the Reds. (This page from the Cincinnati Enquirer gives his count as 163, but NBC Sports says 155. The unofficial pitch count shown at Baseball-Reference.com also goes with 155. Either way, it’s a lot of pitches, especially considering that he was going on three days rest.) I was heartbroken when he went to play for the MFY but couldn’t bring myself to hate him. I was thrilled to see him, years after his retirement from the major leagues, at the 1996 Olympics where he was the pitching coach for the Nicaraguan baseball team. I was annoyed when I learned that he bought his cigars at the same liquor store where DMF often buys wine but DMF never once got his autograph for me. (And that, after I met Bobby Brown at a charity even and got him to autographed a Yankees hat for DMF. Bah.) I continue to be incensed that he still isn’t in the Hall of Fame but should be.

All that love and Karen didn’t even call me when she found out Tiant was at the event. I have no particular affinity for the sheriff, but I’d have gone over there in a heartbeat. Yes, she has been scolded for her omission, as she has been for the unspeakable sin of asking him (Tiant, not the sheriff) to autograph a piece of flowered paper.

Me, I’d have gotten him to autograph an article of clothing instead. It would have been more dignified.

I have met many a player, past and present, and I was more excited about some than others. As fans, we tend to build these guys up in our minds, often to be disappointed that they aren’t as friendly as we might like. Tiant is the rare player who was and is universally liked by fans, widely respected in the game, and a seemingly all-around nice person. All envy aside, I’m glad Karen had a chance to meet him.

Bobby Valentine, How Great Thou Art

Photo from YankeeAnalysts.com

With the hiring of Bobby Valentine as the new Red Sox manager, now seems as good a time as any to jump back into this blog. The 2011 season never did grab me, plus I bought a house and moved and just didn’t have much time to spend on baseball, besides listening to the games on the radio while I spackled or painted or did little fix-it jobs. Believe me, I was glad I had so many other distractions when September rolled around and blogging, if I had been doing any, would have consisted of various permutations of “This team sucks.”

But back to Valentine. I’ve never been a big fan—what’s the guy done, anyway?—and I was utterly underwhelmed with the news of his signing. It isn’t that I don’t think he knows his baseball. I realize he’s smart. But he also has an ego the size of Cape Cod Bay and doesn’t mind showing it. The last Boston manager or coach who thought this much of himself and let everyone know it was Rick Pitino, and we all know how that turned out.

Sometimes, though, it takes someone else to show you the error of your ways. And I have been properly chastened by ESPN’s Tim Kurkjian, who earlier this week informed me and the rest of the world that Bobby V. can do it all.

[H]e sees what others don’t. He never misses a thing — and no one, but no one, is going to fool Bobby Valentine.

[ . . . ]

I can tell you that no one knows the game better than Bobby V. He can be smug and he can be arrogant, but he has a right to be. Bobby Valentine has thrived at most things he has done in his life. He was a great football player; he once scored six touchdowns in the first half of a game at Stamford (Conn.) High School. He was heading to USC to replace O.J. Simpson at tailback, but he chose baseball over football after then-Dodgers general manager Al Campanis asked him, “What would you rather do, play against the best football players in the Pac-10 or against the best baseball players in the world?”

[ . . . ]

There have been few ballroom dancers better than Bobby Valentine…

[ . . . ]

Valentine managed seven years in Japan. He won a championship, but he did much more. In some ways, he changed the way they played baseball in Japan.

[ . . . ]

Humanitarian? Ballroom dancer? Science fair guy? Gourmet chef? Restaurateur? Director of Public Health? Valentine is all of these things. How? Where does he find the time? He told me 25 years ago, “Sleep is overrated,” and it must be, because I don’t know when he sleeps.

To God’s ears from Kurkjian’s lips, which I understand are soon to be surgically affixed to Valentine’s left cheek. And I don’t mean the one on his face.

A Step in the Right Direction

Now that’s what we want to see. Last night’s game, the rubber match of the weekend series against All That Is Wrong in the World, makes me think that this team won’t be a gargantuan waste of $160 million.

The Red Sox chipped away at rotund MFY starter C.C. Sabathia, ramping up his pitch count to 118 before the sixth inning was over. Sabathia didn’t suck—he gave up a single run despite allowing nine hits, just two for extra bases, and a handful of walks—but that lone run was enough. Getting to Joba Chamberlain and, later, Freddy Garcia for the other runs was icing on the cake, letting us breathe and enjoy The Josh Show. Because, face it, when was the last time you watched Beckett work without thinking, “We could have kept Hanley Ramirez, for crying out loud?” Instead, we have a story lead on MLB.com describing how Beckett “conjured World Series memories with eight shutout innings” for the win. Eight shutout innings and only two hits, is all.

It was nice to see Dustin Pedroia go 3-for-4 to raise his average to .400, and one hopes that WEEI game announcer Dave O’Brien was prescient in noting that hits were falling in just the right spots for Pedroia just as they did throughout his MVP year of 2008. The slumping Marco Scutaro had two hits and two walks, and David Ortiz added a walk and a couple hits, beating the right field shift once and raising hopes that his batting in spring training might not have been a fluke. The only starter not to get a hit was Carl Crawford, who at this point has to be thinking that it’s time to stop hitting balls to exactly where an opposing fielder happens to be standing.

Last night was our second win of the season, but it was far better than the first, a sloppy home opener that was the antithesis of the pitchers’ duel we watched last night (or even the unfortunate 1-0 loss to wind down the disastrous Cleveland series). This was a game that saw everyone do his part and do it right (excepting Kevin Youkilis, who got caught outside the base path for an automatic double play that cost a run). It showed what the 2011 Red Sox can do, even against a solid pitcher and a good lineup.

Next, we have three games against the Rays, the only team in baseball with a worse record than ours, followed by a weekend against the Jays, who are tied with the Yankees. If we can make hay with a sweep of Tampa Bay, then we’ll be in position to climb up over .500 before the third week of the season winds down. This team is too good to dwell in the cellar.

You Can’t Fire Me — I Quit

Just in from WEEI sports radio via text alert is the news that former Red Sox and current Tampa Bay Ray Manny Ramirez has announced his retirement after MLB notified him of what the station desscribes as “an issue under MLBs [sic] drug prevention & treatment program.” Talk about things that make you go hmmmmm…

Ramirez served a 50-game suspension in 2009 after testing positive for an undisclosed banned substance. Details of the latest issue have yet to emerge. Because the mean and nasty people in my employer’s IT department have blocked access to the WEEI web site, the best I can give you on the story is a link to this short USA Today article.

My guess, uneducated though it is until additional details emerge, is that Ramirez’ Rays contract has something in it pertaining to drug use, perhaps a termination clause if he gets suspended for violating the league’s policy. That would explain why he is just picking up his marbles and going home.

It’s a sad end to a strange career. Ramirez was a natural talent who blew a lot of the goodwill that automatically comes with such innate ability, but he blew it with his antics: refusing to hustle down the line, sitting out key games, fighting with teammates. The performance-enhancing substance issue was the cherry on the crap sundae. And now, apparently, it has brought to an end what should have been a Hall of Fame career.

I’m Alive! And It’s Opening Day at Fenway!

I hope you will forgive me for my absence these last few months. I bought a house and have been utterly unable to absorb and form opinions about anything in the sports world. This 0-6 start, however, roused me from my stupor, so here I am on this beautiful quasi-spring day, brimming with optimism that today might just be the day when our boys get their first win of 2011.

Ever willing to do my part to help the righteous cause, I have prepared the office scoreboard for this afternoon’s game. Note the Yankee voodoo doll with strategically placed pin. No sense going for the shoulder or hamstring or groin; best to go straight for the heart. Because we need that much help right now.

Sox Keep Spending, Sign Crawford

It seems that the Red Sox have decided to open their wallet this off-season. Just days after trading for star first baseman Adrian Gonzalez, who will reportedly require a $161 million seven-year contract extension to stay past 2011, Theo and the Trio have pulled almost that much from the till to secure free agent outfielder Carl Crawford through 2017. The move has caught many an insider by surprise.

The Red Sox shocked the baseball world, or at least the portion of it that managed to hold on to their drinks around the lobby bars of the winter meetings hotel here when the news broke in the last hour of Wednesday. Boston somehow turned $142 million into stealth money, agreeing to make Carl Crawford the second-highest paid outfielder in baseball history with hardly a moment of preparation by those outside their own suite. It was a rare “wow” moment in a Twitter-mad world.

“[Bleeping] Theo,” one GM said of Boston general manager Theo Epstein. “What a brilliant move.”

The surprise, apparently, is not that the Red Sox went after Crawford—it was widely reported that they were in talks with him a couple weeks ago—but that they continued to pursue him even after committing to the probability of spending so much money for so many years on Gonzalez. But Red Sox fans knew there was at least a chance that the team would do it. That the deal got done without any leaks was also a surprise.

The signing means the Sox probably won’t go after free agent pitcher Cliff Lee, if they ever intended to in the first place, and suggests a belief that they will get more (and better) out of Josh Beckett than they got last season. It also signals a return to their previous strategy of focusing on run production rather than run prevention, the unrealized goal of 2010. And the addition of such a high-profile outfielder puts to rest the possibility of re-signing third baseman Adrian Beltre and moving Kevin Youkilis to left field.

With the new pop in the lineup, the absence of catcher Victor Martinez won’t be so keenly felt, although I still expect the front office to address the catching situation, at least from a defensive perspective. If more championships are the team’s expectation—and the big contracts indicate so—I don’t see a platoon of Jason Varitek and Jarrod Saltalamacchia as the long-term answer behind the plate.

What’s This “Expansion Era Committee?”

The Toronto Blue Jays won back-to-back World Series titles on Pat Gillick's watch

Just in from the National Baseball Hall of Fame:

Pat Gillick, who built three World Series champions and has served baseball for nearly 50 years, has been elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame by the Expansion Era Committee, it was announced today.

[ . . . ]

Gillick presently serves as senior adviser to the Philadelphia Phillies and has spent nearly 50 years in Major League Baseball, with 27 seasons as a major league general manager. Gillick, who built playoff teams with the Blue Jays, Orioles, Mariners and Phillies, began his major league career with the Houston Colt .45s/Astros from 1963-73, before joining the New York Yankees as scouting director from 1974-76. Gillick joined the expansion Toronto Blue Jays in 1977, building five division winners from 1985-93 and consecutive World Series championships in 1992-93. In three seasons with Baltimore from 1996-98, the Orioles made two postseason appearances. In four seasons shaping the Mariners from 2000-2003, the Mariners won 90 games each season, including an American League record 116 in 2001, with two postseason appearances. In building the Phillies from 2006-2008, Philadelphia won the NL East twice and the 2008 World Series.

Those are indeed Hall of Fame credentials, and Gillick deserves the recognition. I know at least one baseball fan north of the border who was particularly happy about those back-to-back Blue Jays championships.

Not to take anything away from Gillick’s accomplishments, but why do we have an Expansion Era Committee? As the Hall explains it, it is the result of “[restructuring] the procedures to consider managers, umpires, executives and long-retired players for election to the Hall of Fame.” The two other Era Committees are Pre-Integration (1871-1946) and Golden (1947-1972). The Expansion Era Committee considers candidates from among players from 1973-1989 and non-players from 1973 to the present.

The only advantage I can see to the new system is that it allows committee members to more carefully study the eras they are charged with considering, something that is helpful in cases where a player’s worthiness is apparent only through the lens of time. There are indeed players who fit that description, not acknowledged as superstars when they played because they played for small-market teams that didn’t win, or because they were overshadowed by a larger-than-life teammate, or perhaps even because they quietly went about their business while avoiding the limelight. In the past, they were considered by the Veterans Committee, itself originally established to review the careers of players who were barred from the major leagues by segregation but achieved greatness in the Negro leagues, as well as players who had retired before the establishment of the Hall and were therefore ineligible to be considered in the customary process.

On the other hand, I have to wonder why we are considering managers, executives, and umpires by “era,” especially candidates with recent careers. I can’t think of a convincing reason why Pat Gillick couldn’t or wouldn’t have been selected in the same manner by which, say, Whitey Herzog or Bowie Kuhn were in the last couple years.

I suppose I’m less inclined than most to embrace changes like this, being rather traditional where baseball is concerned. I detest the designated hitter on the grounds that every player ought to be required to play the whole game, not just half of each inning. I abhor the playoff system, believing that any team that isn’t in first place after playing 162 games (more than in any other team sport) shoudn’t be allowed another 5 or 7 games to make up for it. And I hate, hate, hate artificial grass.

Yet I have to remind myself that the game has survived all these changes, most of which were driven by love of the almighty dollar, so why not a change in the way Hall of Famers are chosen? There is no purer institution in baseball than the Hall of Fame, which safeguards its reputation for integrity so stridently that it has kept two of the all-time greats, Joe Jackson and Pete Rose, out. (I agree in the Rose case but not the Jackson one, though I blame Judge Landis and successive commissioners rather than the Hall for the gross injustice done to Jackson; the Hall simply applied its standard evenly based on decisions not its own.)

All of which is to say that I will give the benefit of the doubt to the good people who run the Hall of Fame and do outstanding work as custodians of the game’s history. But that doesn’t mean I have to agree with them.

And again, congratulations to Mr. Gillick.

The Trade Is Done, the Contract Isn’t

The Red Sox did indeed hold a press conference late this morning to announce that they had completed a trade with the San Diego Padres to get Adrian Gonzalez for a gaggle of prospects. It seems they did the deal despite having failed to secure a multi-year contract extension for the young infielder.

While the trade is complete, [Red Sox GM Theo] Epstein said the Red Sox have yet to finalize a long-term extension with Gonzalez. The Sox general manager is confident that the framework is in place to eventually sign Gonzalez.

[ . . . ]

“We got close to a deal, but in the end when the window lapsed and we didn’t have a deal, we decided to go forward with the trade anyways as a demonstration of the good faith that developed. Had we not gotten to know Adrian and his wife and what they were all about over the course of the weekend, we wouldn’t have had that comfort. It’s just such a good fit. Adrian wants to be a Red Sox. We want him to be a Red Sox for a long time. We’re very confident that when the time is right we’ll be able to work something out.”

That might be a first for this ultra-cautious ownership group, parting with lots of young talent in exchange for a big name, on nothing more than a gentleman’s agreement that they’ll be able to keep him around for more than next season. Gonzalez must really have knocked their socks off.

Meanwhile, the framework to which the above article refers is, according to WEEI, a seven-year extension for an average of $22 million a year and will be signed after the start of the season “so the Sox can ensure that Gonzalez’ right shoulder is healthy and so that they can diminish their luxury tax hit.”

By the way, in case you’re wondering why a kid from San Diego would want to play for the Red Sox, it appears to be more than the standard tell-them-what-they-want-to-hear lines pro athletes throw around when they go (voluntarily, at least) to a new team. Gonzalez is apparently a student of either baseball history, San Diego history, or both: he cited another famous San Diego ballplayer, Ted Williams, for sparking his long-time interested in Boston as his favorite American League team.