Sportsfrog.com

I know, I was surprised too. But for reasons that are beyond me, I opened the “Five Pressing Issues Facing the Red Sox” on si.com piece that he wrote, and skimmed it. In my defense, fantasy baseball drafts are on the way. At any rate, improved defense, good pitching, where is the offense going to come from etc. etc., pretty much what you would expect in a Red Sox season preview. Until I came to his words on Jacob Ellsbury, which went a little something like this:

Getting ready for his third full season in the bigs, the flossy outfielder is coming off a season in which he hit .301 with 70 stolen bases. Ellsbury is only 26-years-old and it’s all in front of him, but in order to accommodate Cameron the Sox are moving Ellsbury to leftfield for the foreseeable future. It’s a mistake.

Well, I disagree, I think the upgrade defensively (letting Jason Bay walk) will be notable and Cameron is no slouch with the stick and…

Wait a minute. “The flossy outfielder”? What the eff? What the hell does that mean? That he’s white and stringy? Flavored like a mint? That Shaughnessy likes putting Ellsbury between his teeth? A quick google search of flossy as an adjective doesn’t help much, unless, maybe, Shaughnessy was using Bay Area hip hop slang and saying that Ellsbury is a phony. Also, according to urban dictionary, it could mean someone who makes one horny, so perhaps Shaughnessy is slyly expressing his deep and abiding manlove for Ellsbury. Or, quite possible, I am overthinking this. Or not.

I have decided not.

Controversial decision? Check. Unconventional decision? Check. Worked out quite poorly? Check. Might as well fire up the CHB-signal in the skies above Boston. Dan Shaughnessy in the Boston Globe, you’re up:

Ghastly. This was as bad as anything the Red Sox ever did. Had it been a playoff game, it would be right up there with Bucky Dent, Bill Buckner, Aaron Boone, and History Derailed in Glendale, Ariz. And Bill Belichick played the part of Grady Little.

The Patriots lost to the undefeated Colts in unbelievable fashion last night. Leading, 31-14 in the fourth quarter, and 34-21 with 2:30 remaining, the Patriots took the choke and lost to their hated rivals, 35-34. So the conference is gone, the playoff bye is probably bye-bye, and the (6-3) Patriots are saddled with a loss that will haunt them for the rest of the season. And Belichick gets the blame. Too smart for his own good this time. The sin of hubris.

But it wasn’t a playoff game. And it hasn’t cost them a first round bye. There’s miles to go before that is the case. The division is in lockdown. I get that it didn’t work. I wouldn’t have made that call myself (in some weird parallel universe where I am an NFL head coach and not a middle aged shlub up at 4:00 am to write about NFL head coaches). But in the grand scheme of things, I don’t seen where it negatively impacts New England’s year in any meaningful way. Still, at least the CHB-signal wasn’t wasted.

Bob Kravitz in the Indy Star is running a victory lap this morning:

Maybe the Lucas Oil Stadium mice burrowed their way into Bill Belichick’s brain. Or maybe one of those indoor fireworks, which set off a small fire at the 50-yard line early in the game, set his cranium on fire and caused a short-circuit. How could it happen? How could the best football coach in the modern history of the game, Coach Hoodie, The Genius, actually go for it on fourth-and-2 at his own 28-yard line with 2:08 remaining in a game his team was leading 34-28? How did it come to pass that Belichick, a brilliant man, suddenly channeled his inner Barry Switzer, eschewing the obvious punt, arrogantly choosing to go for the first down? Call it hubris. Call it stupidity. Call it Colts 35, Patriots 34, and another utterly remarkable, ridiculous classic in a long line of memorable games.

Hmmmmmm. I am sensing a theme. That’s two hubris cards that have been dealt this morning, which is two more than you generally see played in a month of columns.

Hubris? Not seeing it. Perhaps he thought it was the best way to win, regardless of the message he sent to his defense while making that call. How about that?

At the very least, the failure of the gamble ensures that we won’t see that again anytime soon on an NFL sideline, I would suspect.

Not that you particularly care I suppose, and you have no control over it, but Dan Shaughnessy writing a column in defense of you isn’t going to increase anyone’s fondness for you. A sample:

You’d like J.D. Drew. Really. He’s not a diva. He’s not a crybaby. He actually does care. He’s just never going to be caught on camera spitting nails or throwing helmets. And yes, there will be times when he’s on the shelf because something hurts.

Man, I’m sold. If only I could meet him and peer into his soul. Go on CHB, I am at least listening:

Still, it seems there’s always something with Drew. He has played more than 140 games in only two of his 11 big league seasons. The Red Sox have made their peace with this. It’s something they knew when they brought him on board for five years at $70 million. In his two seasons with Boston, Drew has hit .270 and .280, averaging 15 homers and 64 RBIs. Seems like low production for big dough. One could argue that Drew is a drag on the Red Sox offense. He is productive enough to stay in the lineup, but he doesn’t hit a lot of home runs and he misses a month or more every year. With a lineup suddenly wanting for power (no Manny Ramírez, and David Ortiz in apparent decline), Drew would seem to be clogging up the middle.

This is a column that is supposed to help people understand you? What role is CHB playing here, Lionel Hutz?

Our last memory of Drew is the image of him trying (and failing) to check his swing on a 1-and-2 pitch from Tampa rookie David Price with the bases loaded and two out in the eighth inning of Game 7 of the AL Championship Series. It was the moment that effectively ended the Red Sox season. “[The umpire] said I swung,” recalled Drew. “I was really baffled in that situation. I’m never really critical of umpires. But in that situation, on a checked swing that was questionable, I would have liked for it to go the other way.

“I don’t know if it was a cutter or a hard slider – I haven’t faced the kid enough – but it wasn’t a strike, not even close. “What did he think when he saw the replay? “I’ve never gone back and looked at it,” he said. Most of us, of course, would have watched the replay a million times and maybe petitioned the commissioner to have the call reversed. But that’s just not J.D. Drew.

Ouch.