The Boston Celtics announced today that they are bringing back Glen “Big Baby” Davis after finalizing negotiations on a two-year, $6 million deal. Davis’ base salary will be $5 million a year and he can earn an extra $500,000 each season by meeting various weight clauses.

In related news, Boston Celtics owner Wyc Grousbeck just wrote himself a check for $500 grand, while local McDonalds franchises scrambled to increase their production of double cheeseburgers.

OG's on the warpath again, and this time he's right.

White Sox Manager Ozzie Guillen had some choice words for the rest of the league on Sunday, following a series with Cleveland in which Indian pitchers repeatedly made targets of Sox hitters:

“Okay. You little cockroaches… come on. You wanna play games? Okay, I play with you; come on. Okay. You wanna play rough? Okay. Say hello to my little friend!”

Okay, I lied. Guillen didn’t say that – it’s actually a quote from Scarface but since Ozzie Guillen and Tony Montana sound exactly the same, I thought it was appropriate. And the content of the message isn’t that far off, in fact. Here’s what Ozzie really said:

“Around the league, be careful because we’re going to hit people,” Guillen warned. “I don’t care if I get suspended because I need to protect my players…If I see someone hit my player, and I know they hit him on purpose, it’s two guys going down,” he went on. It gets to the point when they hit us seven times, 20 times in one week, and we hit one and [we're] the headhunters and that’s a [problem] with Major League Baseball. I don’t care if I get suspended. I rather have me suspended for two games than have my players on the DL for 30 days.”

Some people might hear this and think, There goes Ozzie Guillen running his mouth again. The guy has built enough of a reputation as an outspoken hothead that many around baseball will simply write off his latest tirade as yet another Ozzie Moment.

But not me. Why? Because I agree with him, 100%.

Retaliation has always been a part of baseball. Since the dawn of the sport’s history, the beanball has been a respected and oft-utilized aspect of the game. The rules go something like this:

Batter’s crowding the plate? Burn the next one up and in to reclaim the inside corner. Pitcher hits your star player? Next inning, you hit theirs. Player shows up the pitcher after a home run? Expect a high hard one next time up.

Simple enough. And exceedingly effective. Until now.

Now, when a pitcher hits a batter, official warnings are issued to both sides. Heaven forbid, then, that the other team’s pitcher responds – even unintentionally – by plunking another batter, because he’ll be immediately ejected from the game and most likely suspended. Forget steroids; the integrity of the game is being comprimised by trigger-happy umpires.

These days, the Sox have no recourse against a headhunter like Joba Chamberlain

The low point in the ongoing pansification of Major League Baseball came on Saturday, when Red Sox reliever Ramon Ramirez was ejected after hitting Alex Rodriguez with a pitch down two runs and with a runner on first – ie, in a situation in which no clear-thinking pitcher would ever intentionally hit a batter. Yet home plate umpire Jim Joyce (who, by the way, is without question the most annoying ump in the league, with his “Strieeeeeeee” strike calls and ridiculous posturing) tossed Ramirez without blinking an eye the second his pitch struck Rodriguez in the back. Suddenly, the Red Sox were left scrambling to find a pitcher to replace Ramirez because, as you might remember, the previous night’s game had gone fifteen innings. Yet Joyce somehow thought that by ejecting Ramirez he was doing both teams a favor and preventing any future retribution.

Unfortunately, what he actually did was further contribute to the dilution of a sport badly in need of something – anything - to snap it out of a Steroid-and-economics-induced skid.

But do a couple beanballs here or there really make a difference?

MLB umpire Jim Joyce (no relation to James) and his notorious hair trigger

No, they probably don’t. I’m not going to sit here and argue that beanballs themselves are a major catalyst. Rather, it’s what they represent – things like camaraderie, protecting your teammates, unity, fair play, and having each other’s backs – that is at stake in MLB’s current sunshine-and-rainbows climate. It’s grit and heart and anger and true, cold-blooded rivalry that we’re losing every time a Jim Joyce decides he’s bigger than the game. And once a guy like Joyce starts distributing warnings and throwing guys out, it then becomes the absence of the beanball that is the problem.

Once a pitcher or his opposing pitcher has been warned, it effectively removes the inside corner from play. A warning means that the inside pitch has been plucked from the arsenal of each player and at that point, neither pitcher can throw inside for fear of missing – often by just one or two inches – and hitting the batter. This miniscule mistake, of course, would result in said pitcher’s immediate ejection. So now the entire landscape of the game has been altered and you’re left with two scared pitchers forced to do their jobs with, essentially, one hand tied behind their backs. Not only do the pitchers realize this, but the batters fully understand it as well. And now they have an advantage, knowing as they do that there won’t be any more inside pitches to contend with. So suddenly, there exists a whole lineup of steroid-fueled hitters free to crowd the plate as they wish, bending and thinning the strike zone to their will, and making it that much easier for them to pull a meatball over the fence. And inevitably one of these hitters will do just that, and perhaps that one fear-induced, plate-crowding , integrity-of-the-game-eroding blast will swing the game – and maybe even the season – in his team’s favor.

Thank you, Jim Joyce.

And sure, that hypothetical scenario isn’t entirely the fault of Joyce and his colleagues. It’s more likely that the cupcake orders are being sent down from high above – from somewhere up in the ranks of the MLB administration; from a commissioner, perhaps, who mistakenly thinks it’s a good idea to limit the violence in a sport already stricken by scandal while failing to notice the resurgence of another sport (hockey) in which fisticuffs play a major role. More likely, baseball’s two-hand-touch policy stems from Bob Watson, the MLB VP in charge of discipline – a guy who, thus far into his tenure, has displayed an affinity for handing out beanball suspenions and a startling inability to control much of anything else (see: steroids). In any case, the league-wide hair-trigger rulings are accomplishing nothing, really, other than the continued cheapening of an already-declining National Pastime.

In other words, I’m with Ozzie. Fire away.

Last night’s 13-6 blowout loss to the New York Yankees confirmed one painful fact beyond a shadow of a doubt:

The 2009 Red Sox ship is sinking.

Nothing went right last night. The John Smoltz Experiment screeched to a halt after just three and a third, and the Billy Traber Era met its inglorious end (let’s hope) just three innings later. In the meantime, Jorge Posada, Melky Cabrera, Johnny Damon, and Mark Teixeira (not exactly the ’27 Yankees) all homered while the Red Sox bats became windmills with runners in scoring position. Then, to add insult to injury, Jed “Mendoza” Lowrie departed with an “irritated left forearm” after fouling off a pitch in the fourth – an injury which, unfortunately, cannot be blamed for his miserable range at shortstop. Oh, and then his replacement Nick Green committed another throwing error.

So, that takes care of defense, hitting, and pitching – anything else going wrong for the Sox? Managerial lapses perhaps? A general manager’s unflinching loyalty to prospects, reclamation projects and aging former All-Stars? A glaring lack of anything that could be pointed to as a cohesive team personality?

Suffice it, then, to say that the Sox are falling apart, one exploited weakness at a time.

What’s the solution, you ask? I have no idea. Is this the 2006 implosion all over again? Sure feels like it. I hate to be all apocalyptic here, but can anyone out there realistically disagree with this assessment? I mean, I’ve been trying to ignore the elephant in the room for weeks at this point, but after last night the Big Pachyderm suddenly came storming out of the corner, waving his trunk and demanding attention:

This Sox team as currently constructed just might not be good enough, after all.

Is that really so hard to believe? I mean, we’re talking about a team built around cross-your-fingers starters like Brad Penny, Dice-K, and Smoltz, anchored by an injury-prone defense, and backed by a lineup of, well…quite a few .250 hitters. I’m not making this stuff up. This is your 2009 Boston Red Sox, ladies and gentlemen, and it’s not pretty.

Sox fans, take a good look at your Game 3 starter in a playoff series

I’m not happy about this. I don’t want the Sox to struggle. I’m not one of these doom-and-gloom fans, twirling my mustache and delighting in the Red Sox latest collapse. But I can’t ignore it any longer. Between the injuries and the failed production, I’m very, very worried about the hometown team. And with a surging Rays squad nipping at our heels and a surprisingly good Rangers ballclub lurking in wild card territory, I would even argue that making the playoffs is a legitimate concern right now. To quote Rick Pitino, “It sucks, and it stinks, and it sucks.”

What can be done? You tell me, because I’m all out of ideas. Quick fixes are what the trade deadline is for but unfortunately, that opportunity already passed with the Sox addressing only one of their glaring – and rapidly multiplying – needs. I just don’t know what the Sox can do at this point, except hope for health and pray for rain.

Frankly, I’ve had my eye on the panic button for a few games now but as soon as I saw Billy Traber come running into the game, with his salt-and-pepper hair and goofy delivery, I hammered that damn button so hard the thing broke.

What about you?

In honor of Jeremy Roenick’s impending retirement after a storied 20-year career, Game Six has decided to pay homage to one of the all-time greatest electronic athletes by compiling a list of the single best sports video games ever. Read the rest of this entry »

Shelden and his better half

NBA Forward Shelden Williams has just signed a one-year, $1.306 million deal with the Celtics.

I’m basically indifferent to this signing. Indifferent, that is, unless it affects Leon Powe’s status (which it probably will). In that case, I’m 137% against it. I’ll take Leon every day and twice on Sundays before I even look at Mr. Candace Parker.

Welcome to town, Victahhh!

I’m officially in love with the Victor Martinez Era.

(I think I just broke up with the Clay Buchholz Era though. 4 IP, 9 H, 7 ER today for Mr. Untradeable. Good thing we have VJM).