Posts For Class: West High Season Preview

This blog originated as an assignment for a sportswriting class at the University of Iowa, and I therefore must occasionally update it with posts that do not relate to the Red Sox or how much I hate the Yankees (who are losing in Game 1 of the World Series as I write this, and there is much rejoicing). This post is the first in that series: enjoy.
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BJ Mayer does not subscribe to the theory that basketball players must be tall to be successful. The head coach of the Iowa City West High girls' basketball program, Mayer fields a team that reached the second round of the playoffs last year despite having only four players taller than 5 feet 9 inches.

"We're not tall, so our weakness will be defending inside," said Mayer. "We want to create a tempo that's chaotic and crazy to get other teams out of their element...we want to wear teams down."

The Trojans will need that tempo in order to compensate for the loss of last year's two leading scorers, departed seniors Emma Krieger Kittle and Madison Sadecky. The team will focus more on three-point shots, hoping that their pressing defense will create more opportunities on the offensive side of the court. Mayer expects guard Kristin Fomon to be the Trojans' main threat behind the three-point line, and the senior is also a front-runner for a spot as team captain.

The Trojans begin official practice on Nov. 9, and Mayer will begin the season by focusing on team chemistry and installing the new, high-octane playbook.

"The kids need to play together...we have a lot of new varsity players, and they need to get on the same page," said Mayer. "It's very important that we get off to a good start so that we're able to get the young kids some confidence and allow them to play relaxed."

My Five Stages

Yes, I did rip the title of this post from an episode of Scrubs. I've never really bought into the Dr. Phil psychobabble that the Kübler-Ross model of grief seems to reflect, but at this point I'm open to pretty much anything that will make me forget the humiliation of being swept by an Anaheim team that we've dominated in the postseason for as long as I can remember. Even Dr. Phil-type crap.

Stage 1: Denial: When the Angels pulled ahead in the ninth inning, I was still optimistic. Hell, our third batter in the inning was going to be reigning MVP Dustin Pedroia...we were going to be fine.

Stage 2: Anger: I did a job on my room when the game ended. I kicked over RoommateCoop's ironing board. I let out a string of profanity that Bobby Knight would be proud of. And, of course, I continued to channel Coach Knight by throwing my chair across the room. I scare myself sometimes.

Stage 3: Bargaining: Dusty knocks a fly ball over the infield, and I respond with: "Drop, drop, drop, dear God please fucking drop..." I'm an atheist. For me to invoke God takes a lot.

Stage 4: Depression: Dusty's ball is caught, and I collapse. I sob. I pound the floor. I was a wreck. It took a long walk and Dairy Queen therapy with my girlfriend for me to crack the smallest of smiles. That DQ Pumpkin Pie Blizzard is divine.

Stage 5: Acceptance: I'm still working on this one, not gonna lie, but I think I'm doing a little better. The Sox were out-pitched, out-hit and out-hearted by Anaheim; I can't deny it, and there's not much point in trying. The season is over, but a new one begins in March. In the meantime, there will be plenty of news for me to follow. Free agents will come and go, the Varitek era will officially come to a close, and hopefully Theo will make some moves to put us in a better position next year (first suggestion: get rid of Manny Fucking Delcarmen, already). We once waited 86 years for a World Series victory; next season will mark the third year of our current dry spell, and I'm okay with that in the big picture. We still got this, baby...I've accepted it.

"Don't blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we couldn't live without you
Red Sox, you are the only, only, only"
- Dropkick Murphys

Tweets From Game 3

I'm devastated. When Dustin Pedroia flew out to end the season, I went insane. I kicked over RoommateCoop's ironing board. I pulled a Bobby Knight and chucked my game-watching chair across the room. Finally, I collapsed to the ground and sobbed into my Curt Schilling jersey. I stayed like that for a long time.

I had hoped that my Tweet series would last longer than two posts, but I guess that wasn't meant to be this year. Still, I had fun doing it (especially when it looked like we would win Game 3; I mean, come on, we were one fucking strike away), so here are my Tweets from yesterday afternoon.

I'm going to take a while to heal and figure out where this blog is going to go now that the season is over. I'll still be posting regularly, but if you're looking for more level-headed and rational Sox analysis during my healing period, you should check out my friend Evelyn at What's Bruin In Beantown.

Also, you may have noticed that my last post came well before the end of the game. I was in no shape to Tweet after the final run. I was too busy panicking. Before the playoffs, I had no reason to use Twitter besides to occasionally talk about my breakfasts when I was especially bored. As such, I probably won't be updating my page for a long, long time. Twitter is stupid.

1:26 pm: Just realized the time difference means the Sox game is already half over...I'm such a bad fan.
--The Sunday game came just a few hours after the University of Iowa's Homecoming festivities ended, so I have to admit that I was asleep during the first six innings of the game. Still, coming in while we were up 5-2 made me kinda happy.

1:36: I'm starting to appreciate Bard a hell of a lot more.
--Daniel Bard strikes out two and enduces a groundout in his second inning of work.

1:40: Does Buck Martinez's voice make anyone else want to kick a baby, or is that just me?
--Don Orsillo was a nice choice as the play-by-play man for the series (but I might be a little biased). Martinez as the color man? Not so much.

1:51: Someone tell George Lopez that he's not remotely funny and to leave my baseball alone.
--The problem with TBS is that they plug the same damn shows over and over and over again. That's especially problematic when the show belongs to Lopez (although they played his spots much less frequently than Frank Caliendo's crap last year).

1:53: Social D makes a much better highlight song than Bon Jovi.
--"Reach For The Sky" vs. "We Weren't Born To Follow"? Bon Jovi was so 1985.

1:56: Something about Wagner's delivery bothers me...wont argue with the results though.
--Seriously, someone should shoot the guy who taught Billy Wagner his mechanics. They're just butt-ugly.

1:57: ...case in point. Siddown Hunter, you annoying bastard.
--Wagner strikes out Torii Hunter looking, and there was much rejoicing.

2:01 pm: C'mon, Wags...you cant walk Guerrero, thats impossible.
--Vladimir Guerrero, who literally swings at anything within 20 feet of the strike zone, draws a walk. I'll go ahead and blame Wagner's delivery.

2:09: Get some, Willits.
--Papelbon picks off Angels pinch runner Reggie Willits by a mile.

2:16: I love it when Bay strikes out without swinging once.
--I love Jason Bay, and think Theo pulled off the trade of the decade to get him, but a slugger can do a hell of a lot more for his team when he swings the fucking bat.

2:22: Yeah baby...no way Papi would have scored on that.
--Joey Gathright scores on a Mike Lowell single after pinch running for David Ortiz...Papi would have stopped at third and asked for oxygen.

2:26: Crunch time...we got this.
--Top of the ninth, two-run lead, Papelbon on the mound...how the hell did we not win this game?

2:27: It should be illegal to record a Beatles cover as bad as the one in the Blackberry ad...blasphemy.
--At this point, I was still optimistic enough to complain about commercials. Funny how quickly that changed.

2:33: I'd forgotten how shiny Terry's head is.
--Francona takes off his cap, and I'm temporarily blinded. Unfortunately, my vision returns in time for me to witness Papelbon's breakdown.

2:43: Pap takes too long between pitches...I'm having heart attacks here.
--It's one thing if you wait 37 minutes in between pitches and get positive results. It's a whole 'nother thing if you single-handedly end your team's season.

2:47: FUCK.
--Guerrero drives in the go-ahead run. It's about this time that I stop caring about Twitter and just start praying to the baseball gods for a miracle. Thanks for completely ignoring me, baseball gods. I'll send you guys the bill for my new game-watching chair.

Manic Depression Is A Frustrating Mess

I hoped I wouldn't have to write this post this year. This was supposed to be the year. This was supposed to be the third time this decade where I could run screaming through the halls, screaming my love for the Sox at the top of my lungs. This was supposed to be the year where I could dance in the middle of the street without worrying about getting hit by a bus or looking like Bobo the Epileptic Hobo, a year where I would be so happy that nothing else would matter.

Fuck Anaheim.

Tweets From Last Night

So I finally figured out the best way to utilize my Twitter account that I've almost never used: I can use it to keep track of my thoughts during Sox games, woot woot! I'm pretty sure that last night's humiliating 0-5 loss (we still got this, don't worry Sox fans) gave me some pretty good material to work with here.

Editor's notes: Posts have been edited for punctuation and capitalization, both of which I am too lazy to consider while texting during one of the biggest nights of the year.

8:47 pm: It's only the second night of the playoffs, and I already want to beat George Lopez with an ironing board.

--TBS plays its first "Lopez Tonight" spot of the game; the station would plug the upcoming show four times during the game broadcast.

8:57: Guerrero, taking a pitch? WTF?

--Angels slugger Vladimir Guerrero doesn't swing at a pitch for the first time ever.

8:58: Marry me, Mike Lowell.

--Sox third baseman makes a beautiful diving play to rob Guerrero of a hit.

9:05 pm: Run out your fucking grounders, Papi.

--David Ortiz walks to first after grounding to Angels first baseman Kendry Morales. Lazy.

9:21: My girlfriend just witnessed my first angry outburst of the game...I think she's terrified.

--JD Drew watches a fat fastball for a strike, and I go ballistic.

9:34: I love when my mom calls during the game and I miss the Ellsbury interference call...love you too, Ma.

--I actually have no idea what happened on this play. Because I was on the phone. Grrr.

9:42: Really, Joe West? Was that REALLY a ball? You need to retire. Now.

--Home plate umpire West rules an obvious third strike to Torii Hunter a ball; Hunter then walks. And I go ballistic.

9:58: I hate these fucking umpires.

--First base ump CB Bucknor rules Angels second baseman Howie Kendrick safe at first, even though Youkilis clearly tagged him out. And I go ballistic.

10:02 pm: Way to fight, Jonny.

--Jon Lester records his fifth (and final) strikeout in his first four innings of work.

10:07: I want a divorce, Mike Lowell.

--Lowell grounds into a double play. And I go ballistic.

10:13: We need to get our throws to first on line, this is stupid.

--An easy throw to first base is off target for the third time in the game; Chone Figgins is safe on the play. You can probably guess how I react.

10:17: Girlfriend after Aybar reaches third: "You look sad..."

--Fairly self-explanatory.

10:19: Goddamnmotherfuckingshitballssonofabitch.

--Hunter hits a three-run homer for the first runs of the game.

10:41: I want full custody, Mike Lowell.

--Lowell throws away yet another out at first. And yes, I go ballistic.

10:46: Ellsbury makes me so happy, it's not even funny.

--Jacoby Ellsbury makes a gorgeous diving catch in center to save a run. And I go ballistic, but in a good way.

10:53: I want the house too, Mike Lowell.

--Lowell pops out behind the plate. Really not his night.

11:01 pm: At this point, Abeu should just bypass the batter's box and go straight to the basepaths.

--Angels right fielder draws his fourth walk of the game. And at this point, I just start getting depressed.

11:12: Just kidding, Mike Lowell, you can have the house.

--Lowell throws home and then receives the throw back at third to turn a double play that saves a run in a bases-loaded jam. And I smile a little bit inside.

11:15: I'm putting a hit out on you, Mike Lowell.

--Jason Bay's throw bounces off Lowell's glove and rolls away; two runs score, and I die a little bit inside.

11:34: Bard is making them look like they're swinging those swimming pool noodle thingies.

--Reliever Daniel Bard uses his 100-mph fastball to record a groundout and two K's in the ninth inning.

11:46: Goddamnmotherfuckingshitballssonofabitchskankasswhorevagina.

--Game over: Red Sox 0, Angels 5. And I go ballistic.

Smell That? That's The Postseason!

Good news, Sox fans: after a long bout with bronchitis and a series of computer problems (the bureaucrats at my university thought it would be a good idea to lock me out of my Internet account for three weeks), your favorite angry, whiny Californian Sox blogger is back in business. I know that this blog is the only source of Red Sox information for most of my readers (cough, Rachael, cough), so this should make you very happy. Just in time for the playoffs, too.

October has arrived, and along with the crappy weather and inundation of Halloween swag at your local CVS, that means that playoff baseball is here. This makes me unbelievably happy. It seems like the Sox play the Anaheim Angels (I'm from California; Anaheim is most definitely NOT in Los Angeles, no matter what Angels owner Arte Moreno wants you to think) in the ALDS every year, and this also makes me very happy. That's because the BoSox are 9-1 over the past three postseason series against the Not Los Angeles Angels. The Angels obviously would like to break that trend this year, so I will break down the key matchups in my very objective and unbiased opinion.

Starting Pitching

The Sox throw Jon Lester, Josh Beckett and Clay Buchholz against Anaheim, who counter with John Lackey, Jered Weaver and Scott Kazmir. These are easily the most compelling pitching matchups in this round of the playoffs, the only ones that could really go either way every night. All five except Buchholz have had postseason experience, and Beckett has built a reputation for himself as the very best October pitcher in the game. Kazmir, a former Tampa Bay Ray, has seen a lot of Boston over his career; he is 8-7 with a 3.59 ERA in 23 regular-season starts against the Sox.

Advantage: Boston. We have Beckett. 'Nuff said.

Offense

The Angels and BoSox finished with the first and fourth best team batting averages in baseball, respectively. Both teams like to take pitches, and it was difficult for opposing pitchers to rack up strikeouts. The two lineups read like an All-Star ballot; in what other series are you going to find names like Kevin Youkilis, Vladimir Guerrero, Jason Bay, Kendry Morales, Victor Martinez and Bobby Abreu?

Advantage: Boston. Both teams have big names. Ours are just bigger.

Bullpen

One of the most compelling stories of this series will be how Angels closer Brian Fuentes fares against the umpires after his infamous meltdown when Anaheim visited Boston in September. The Sox bullpen is rock-solid at the back, with Hideki Okajima and Billy Wagner setting up for Jonathan Papelbon; one can only hope that the starters go far enough into games to go straight to OkiWagPap, bypassing the idiots (yes, I'm talking about Manny Delcarmen) that make up the middle relief.

Advantage: Anaheim. The Angels have a strong 'pen all the way through, unlike the bottom-heavy setup that we have now.

Bench

Maicer Izturis and Gary Matthews have been competent off the bench for the Angels, and one of the stories of the year for the Sox has been how the team's depth has allowed ailing and aging players like Mike Lowell to take much-needed days off.

Advantage: Boston. The Sox would not be in this position had it not been for our bench players; the same cannot be said about Anaheim.

Managers

Both Boston's Terry Francona and Anaheim's Mike Scioscia have guided their teams to World Series crowns and been named Manager of the Year. Not bad credentials for a couple of guys who are still managing their first teams. Scioscia tends to have his teams play small-ball, and there are few teams that hustle on every play like the Angels; Terry has more power to work with, and is less likely to send runners (besides speed freak Jacoby Ellsbury, who can run whenever the hell he wants as far as I'm concerned).

Advantage: Tie. Terry and Scioscia are studies in completely opposite forms of coaching, both of which have been successful in the past.

Series Prediction

Sox in four games. The playoffs really come down to experience, and recent memory says that Boston has experienced beating the crap out of Anaheim the last few postseasons. I see no reason why that trend won't continue this year.

Predictions Around the League (Pretending Like I Hadn't Watched the Games Tonight)

New York vs. Minnesota: Justin Verlander would have given the Tigers a couple wins, but I just don't think the Twins have the pitching or offensive firepower to match up with the Yankees--especially when three of the five games are going to be in the Bronx.

New York in three games

Los Angeles vs. St. Louis: I hate Manny Ramirez for shitting on the Sox a couple summers ago, so I'd be picking against the Dodgers anyway (even if they really are from Los Angeles).

St. Louis in five games

Philadelphia vs. Colorado: This one comes down to pitching. Neither team has declared their third starter, but I'd take Cliff Lee and Cole Hamels against pretty much any other pitching duo in the National League (outside of maybe LinceCain in San Francisco).

Philadelphia in three games