My Favorite Red Sox Players 10-6

 

10. Mo Vaughn

In the early 90s, the Red Sox had a problem. The perception around the league, which was more Black than it is now, was that the Red Sox didn’t want Black players. It was hard to argue as Ellis Burks was the only African American on the roster for a year or two.

Black players were straight up telling reporters that there was no way that they’d play for the Sox because the organization and the city made them uncomfortable. As a fan of the Sox and Boston (Massachusetts has been my home forever), that really bummed me out. I’m not Black, so I can never fully understand what they were saying but it made me angry.

Not angry at Black players of course, but angry at the situation as a whole. The Sox had to be aware of the perception of the city, why the fuck weren’t they being more open to Black players? Every time the press asked about it, they’d get blown off. Why didn’t they care?

Then Mo was promoted. Unlike the more shy Burks, Vaughn came up and immediately began asking the tough questions. “Why weren’t there more Black players in the clubhouse?” “How come Black fans don’t feel comfortable in Fenway?” “What is this organization doing about it?”

Finally a person who got it. Predictably older columnists, like Will McDonough, fought back. Some fans told him to essentially “shut up and hit”. But Mo kept talking. Louder and louder. Until someone did something.

The thing is, unless Mo was producing, no one would listen to him. But he was hitting, he hit for average. He hit long bombs. Drove in runs. Pretty much anything offensive that the Sox needed him to do, he did. He won (actually probably stole) the MVP in 1995 from Albert Belle. Reporters hated the notoriously prickly Belle and I’m convinced the votes for Mo were actually votes against Belle. Though TBH John Valentin had a case to beat both of them.

If I was a Cleveland fan, I’d probably still be pissed. But I’m not, so sucks for Belle, I guess.

Mo never delivered the ultimate prize for the Sox, no matter who his running mate was—Jose Canseco, Nomar to name a few—but he kept trying. In 1998 Mo knew he wasn’t going to get the money he felt he deserved in Boston so he went to Anaheim and became an Angel. He had a decent first year there, then got injured, gained weight and bounced to the Mets for his last few seasons.

But Mo Vaughn was a catalyst for change in Boston. He showed the league that Boston can embrace an opinionated Black man. Mo set the stage for players like Pedro, Manny, Ortiz, Betts, players of color who spoke their mind. If he won a few championships maybe he could’ve been our generation’s Bill Russell? But we should still honor what he did both on the field and off.

9. Tim Wakefield

Everyone thinks they’re a good teammate. But that’s probably not true. If you’ve ever been on a team you’ll know that there are anxieties, jealousies, selfishness. For all of the rah-rah, "we're a team!" stuff that gets thrown around any locker room, at the end of the day, sports is kind of a selfish pursuit. This is especially true when things start to go south and the team is floundering. You end up playing for yourself in the hopes you get noticed so you can get off this dumb team.

But every once in a while there’s a person on your team who’s relentlessly positive with out being corny, helpful without being a nag, someone who continually does the right thing and isn’t expecting anything back.

I never made the Major Leagues but I’ve read/heard enough stories to know that every team is filled with ultra Alpha type athletes who have never had a bad thing happen to them on the field. Guys whose outwardly confidence is high into the stratosphere and are used to being the best player in any team they’ve been a part of. They’re so good they’re not expected to be good teammates. That’s a job for shitty players.

Getting to the Majors and learning to be a good teammate and sacrifice for the benefit of the other players, that’s not really a part of most athletes' tool box. But every so often its obvious when a team has a good guy like that truly puts team first.

On the Sox from 1995 until 2011, that guy was Tim Wakefield. His first year in Boston he was picked up off the scrap heap—Pittsburgh dumped him in Buffalo and the Red Sox were desperately in need of starters so they grabbed him. Wakefield pitched a game in Anaheim limiting the Angels to a few hits then shut out the A’s TWO days later in Oakland. And he was off. I’ve seen Clemens, Pedro, Schilling, Beckett, Lester, Sale and others pitch but Wakefield going 14-1 for a stretch in that season for the Sox was truly unbelievable.

He was a mainstay of the pitching staff for the rest of his career. He worked out of the pen as a mop-up guy, a closer, a seventh inning bridge. He was a member of the starting rotation. He was a spot starter. Whatever he had to do, he did. Sometimes he was really good, sometimes he was really bad. Sometimes I couldn’t wait for his next start, other times I wondered why the Sox were employing a knuckleballer. But I never doubted that he gave everything to the team.

When the Sox needed innings in Game 3 of 2004 ALCS, Wakefield gave it to them. Without his sacrifice and a rested bullpen, the Sox don’t win four straight over the Yanks. He was left off the 2007 World Series roster, Wakefield didn’t raise a stink. He just cheered on his teammates from the bench.

The lowest part of his career had to be giving up the walkoff homer to Aaron Boone in the 2003 ALCS. Apparently he was weeping in his locker wondering if he’d be his generation’s Bull Buckner. Like Buckner, Wakefield didn’t deserve those goat horns and luckily it never came to that for him. Tim Wakefield was beloved by New England. In his last year he made the All-Star team and then left the mound for good. He worked for NESN almost immediately after his retirement so it seemed like he never left us.

On the last day of a miserable 2023 season, Tim Wakefield passed away. The sadness that enveloped Red Sox nation was immense and heartfelt. Wakefield may have been from Florida, but he was like one of us (hell, we named a town after the guy!) and whether it was because of his countless hours of charity or the way that Wakefield was so brave going to he mound armed with nothing a knuckleball and a dump truck full of resilience, he seemed like the type of guy you wish you could be.

Wakefield was a rock.

8. Dwight Evans

If you have a brother you might share a bunch of stuff: a room, toys, clothes. But the one thing you don’t share are your heroes. You can both like the same player, my brother and I both worshipped Bo Jackson and Rickey Henderson, but inevitably one person likes the player a little more and he becomes “yours”.

When my brother Jay and I were younger, I thought Jim Rice was the best and he really liked Dwight Evans. I’m not sure why he did but he talked a lot about Dwight Evans. I liked Dewey too but eventually Jay moved on to Don Mattingly (he’d kill me if he knew I was putting this out into the universe) and then others, but Evans was his first.

While I told you about voraciously defend Jim Rice from 6-4-3 jokes, I was also watching Dewey and getting a real strong impression for him. Truthfully he did a lot of stuff Rice didn’t do, he hit for a higher average, he seemed a little faster, defensively he was amazing and he had a cannon for an arm. Rice had a little more power (though Evans wasn’t a slouch) and he also had a few years where he put everything together and had a few monster seasons. Rice had higher highs but lower lows than Evans and that’s probably why he’s in Cooperstown.

But Evans deserves to be there too. I hate comparing two worthy HoF players but Evans played longer than Rice, was more consistent, his drop off wasn’t as sharp. And like I said, his defense was unparalleled. No one ran on Dwight Evans. And the catch he made in Game Six of the 1975 World Series? Amazing. Carlton Fisk doesn’t become CARLTON FISK without that catch. If that didn’t happen then what does Robin Williams talk about to Matt Damon in “Goodwill Hunting”? Not only does Fisk owe Dewey something but Ben Affleck and Damon do as well.

In any event it wasn’t just Evans’ production that everyone loved. He had a long road from prospect to All-Star. He got beaned in the head which resulted in a massive concussion and eventually messed with his confidence at the plate. He had his entire swing remastered by Walt Hriniak mid-career, which no one liked, especially Ted Williams. When the greatest hitter of all time calls you out, it must be tough.

But he worked hard and improved every year at the plate. Getting on base, hitting bombs (remember when he hit a homerun on the first pitch of the 86 season off Jack Morris?), driving in runs. He showed you can improve and excel with age. As the years went by, he became a New England institution. But it wasn't just the production, it was the other things. Like yelling “DEWWWWWWW!” when he was at bat. It was the Selleck-esque mustache. It was imitating his batting style—the toe tap, leaning all the way back before uncoiling—during Wiffle Ball. It was knowing that a right fielder isn’t the shittiest player on the field, with your arm and glove, you can make a difference.

After the Sox let him go he played a year on Baltimore, which was weird to see him in Oriole orange, but the California kid came back to the Bay State.

A few years ago I saw him at Capitol Grille here in Burlington. I was with my wife and another couple and I whispered to them, “holy shit, that’s Dwight fucking Evans” and before they could answer I yelled, “DEWEY!” He turned around, pointed at me, said “Hey!” and asked me what I was eating. I think I said steak and he said, “great choice” then floated away.

I was beside myself. Dwight Evans asked me what i was eating. And I called him Dewey, a name I’ve heard that he absolutely hates. Who gives a shit, we’re best friends now.

I wish I could ask my brother what he thinks of Dewey. Whether he still likes him a lot, whether he cares if he gets into Cooperstown. But that’s impossible because he passed away a few years back. And that’s okay because whenever I think of Evans I think of my brother as a little kid talking about him, mimicking him in the backyard and that’s enough.

It just makes me feel good. Isn’t that what baseball is supposed to do?

7. Jackie Bradley Jr.

Remember the controversy when JBJ made the big league team in 2013? Some people were worried that he wasn’t ready others were afraid that the Sox burnt a year of his eligibility and that he’d be a free agent sooner.

I was all kinda dumb. Turns out he wasn’t ready for prime time and the eligibility thing didn’t even matter. FTR, I was one of those people wailing about the eligibility. Nothing like a little indentured servitude masquerading as “doing what’s best for the team”!

Anyway, Bradley went to Pawtucket after those first couple of weeks and came up for good in 2014. For some reason I was all in on the JBJ experience. I knew he wasn’t the best overall player on the team, but I spent a lot of time wondering how good he could be.

What made him so confounding was that for three weeks, he’d absolutely carry the team offensively. Homers, big hits all over the place. Then you’d start to settle into thinking that Jackie has turned a corner and while he might not hit .600 for the rest of the season, the way he’s swinging he could easily reach half that.

Then he’d go into a six week funk where you wonder if he’s ever seen a baseball before much less hit one. He was the ultimate seesaw player. I think it was part of the lack of consistency that made him so appealing. Because even when he’d suck, you knew he’d eventually snap out of it. You just never knew when. Every day I’d check the box score to see whether yesterday was the day that JBJ was going to get on track. “0-4, not today, I guess. Maybe tomorrow.”

The one thing that never ebbed was his defense. I’ve been watching the Sox for longer than I care to admit and JBJ was the best defensive player I’ve ever watched. When JBJ was in his prime, I was addicted to Twitter. It was a different time and the app didn’t suck nearly half as much as it does now. But back in the day you could really cultivate what you wanted your feed to be and I mostly filled mine with funny people and sports. Baseball Twitter was amazing because the moment something happened, you saw it 40 million times on your feed. Big hit. Big pitch. Big catch. It didn’t matter, watching a game while scrolling Twitter was a lot of fun and I miss it.

The reason why I’m talking about Twitter is because JBJ was on my feed constantly with some sort of gravity defying catch. And like I said, I didn’t see it once but multiple multiple times. From different angles, in slow-mo, set to a song. I saw a lot of Jackie Bradley Jr. and his feats are imprinted in my brain. Does that have something to do with how I see him as the greatest defensive outfielder in my life? Maybe. But also hear me out, he just was.

There's a baseball cliche that says, "defense never takes a holiday" and JBJ was the personification of the argument “do you take a guy out of the lineup if he’s not hitting but he’s saving runs defensively?” In other words, how much does defense means?

Apparently a lot. I didn’t care that he was batting .230, I just wanted to watch Jackie rob homers and make sliding catches and gun people down (he had a very strong arm, which was nice after years of Johnny Damon, Coco Crisp and Jacoby Ellsbury). I just wanted the guy to hit because I was worried to how long a leash the Sox would give him.

At the end of the 2020 season the Sox sent him the Milwaukee (it was the very last transaction before the lockout) and for a year, and he was someone else’s worry. They brought him back a season later but he was cooked. Boston released him and he bounced around for a few teams. He played for the Long Island Ducks last year and hasn’t officially retired, but he’s pretty much done.

When looking back at his career, it’s nothing short of a huge success. He was an All-American at the University of South Carolina where he won an NCAA World Series. He was part of the Big Red Sox Machine of 2018, was ALCS MVP that year, won another ring in 2013, was an All-Star in 2016 and made over $55 million.

How can you not look back at that and see a success? Baseball is a tough fucking game full of inconsistencies, JBJ was able to navigate those into a nine-year career.

Not too shabby.

6. Nomar Garciaparra

It’s hard to say that Nomar came at a time when the Red Sox needed a superstar. They already had Mo Vaughn, so I guess what they needed was a new superstar.

Nomar showed up in 1997 took shortstop from incumbent John Valentin and didn’t stop hitting or fidgeting with his batting gloves—a tic that every Little Leaguer in New England immediately copied. That season Nomar crushed everything that came his way: fastballs, curves, sliders, knuckle balls, it didn’t matter. Nomar tattooed the wall like Wade Boggs in his prime.

A new generation of Sox fans loved him for it. He wasn’t Nomar, he was NOMMAHHHHHHHH. He won the Rookie of the Year and played every game with the biggest smile. I remember the last game of his rookie year he stayed around after the game and signed autographs for what seemed like days.

Nomar loved Boston and Boston loved Nomar. It was a match made in baseball heaven.

The next year, Nomar hit more than he did his rookie year. By 2000 he led the league with .372

average which was the highest average by a right handed hitter since Joe DiMaggio. As it often happens with athletes and this town, the love affair between Boston and Nomar was starting to lose some of its shine. The fans still loved him but the press was beginning to turn on him a little bit. And when he showed up shirtless and yoked on the cover of Sports Illustrated, whispers of steroids started to spread.

To make matters worse Nomar’s first name was starting to change to “the oft-injured” Nomar Garciaparra. And with the additions of brand new superstar players like Pedro Martinez, Manny Ramirez, Johnny Damon and David Ortiz; someone was moving down in the pecking order of stars.

It all came to a head in the winter of 2003 when GM Theo Epstein had a deal to send Manny and Jon Lester (a throw in) to the Texas Rangers for Alex Rodriguez. Then the Red Sox were going to ship Nomar to the White Sox for Magglio Ordonez. But the complicated transaction didn’t pan out. To make matters worse teammate Kevin Millar went on SportsCenter and told the whole world that he’d rather ARod at short.

Yipes.

Things were awkward that spring and into summer as Nomar played but there seemed to be a dark cloud over shortstop. At the trading deadline, Epstein finally ripped off the Band-Aid and sent Nomar to the other Chicago team, the Cubs.

As you know, the Sox won the Series that year but Nomar was watching that him with his wife Mia Hamm. No one seemed to miss him.

Obviously, it’s awesome that the Sox won that year. I wouldn’t change any part of that drama for anything but it was a little sad that Nomar wasn’t there. He got a ring, but I’m sure it’s a hollow bauble.

In the late 90s Nomar gave us all something to cheer. It was the Golden Age of shortstops and while ARod was the best overall, Miguel Tejada won the MVPs, Edgar Renteria and Omar Vizquel won Gold Gloves and Derek Jeter had World Series trophies, no one hitter harder than Nomar (and I’m including ARod).

The skinny kid from Georgia Tech was amazing. And he looked like he was having so much fun too. Baseball is a lot like life, it can just wear you down after awhile. The glee and joy you find in your job or everyday life can evaporate in a second, if you’re not careful.

That’s why when you have that happiness you need to hold on to it as long as you can. Really drink it in. When I think of Nomar I choose to think of him as a pup slamming balls all over the park and signing autographs after.

I’m sure that’s the way he’d prefer to be remembered too; young and with a smile.

My favorite stadiums 25 - 20

 25.

 

We are 25 days away from The Real National Hot Dog Day and we're counting down the stadiums I've been to in order from worst to best. 

 

Today's stadium is Chase Field in Phoenix, AZ home of the Arizona Diamondbacks.

 

What brought my then girlfriend/fiancee and I to Arizona wasn't a business trip. Nor was it our first choice for vacation that September. It was because our initial trip to the Bahamas was completely hurricaned out at the last minute and we needed to go somewhere else.

 

We cancelled that trip, found a really awesome deal in Scottsdale and it was Arizona, here we come.

Oh yeah, there was another part of that trip that was supposed to be memorable: I was going to ask Aly to marry me. I already had the ring, I made all sorts of special accommodations and instructions with our hotel, but then the hurricane hit and my plans were ruined. It threw me into such a tailspin that I asked her to marry me in my bedroom in Somerville.

 

It wasn't as romantic or grand a proposal as I wanted it tto be, but miraculously she said yes.

 

So we went to Arizona to have a good time and celebrate our coming nuptials. It was fun, we each had $100 a day in spa credits, there was barely anyone at the resort, we drove to Sedona and at the end of the trip we went to Phoenix to see the Diamondbacks play the Giants.

 

Oh yeah, before we get to the game, there was one other thing: Phoenix in September is hot. Like really hot. Really fucking hot. I think it was about 105 degrees every day. We'd sit by the pool, go for a dip and when we came out we were completely dry in 30 seconds. It was weird, but I loved it.

 

However, since it's so hot out, barely anyone is outside. So when we went to Phoenix to have a few drinks before the game, the place was a ghost town. There were folks in the bars, but not a ton of them. It was as if everyone wanted to leave the city as fast as possible and get back to their air conditioned homes in the desert suburbs.

 

There's not much to say about Chase Field (it was called BankOne Ballpark or the BOB when we went). It has a retractable roof, but I don't think it's open very much. It was cool indoors and the game was a terrific matchup: Randy Johnson was on the hill for the D'Backs. Barry Bonds was in the lineup for the Giants and was looking for his 700th home run. He didn't hit it that night and wouldn't until a week later in San Francisco.

 

I remember it being a good crowd but it felt like the game was being played in a airplane hanger or a giant barn. The whole place just felt big and everything in the stadium felt dwarfed by the facility.

We're at the part of the countdown where the parks were fine and there was nothing really bad about them, but they just weren't very memorable. That's how I'd describe Chase Field, huge but not very memorable.

 

Here's the box score of the game that I went to: https://www.retrosheet.org/boxesetc/2004/B09100ARI2004.htm

 

Jeez, aside from Johnson, this Diamondback team was a shitshow, no wonder they only finished with 51 wins. RJ was the only Hall of Famer, though we all know that Bonds should be there too.

 

24.

 

 

We are 24 days away from The Real National Hot Dog Day and we're counting down the stadiums I've been to in order from worst to best.

 

Today's stadium is the Rogers Centre in Toronto, ON home of the Toronto Blue Jays.

 

When the Rogers Centre, then known as the SkyDome, opened in 1989 it was hailed as a marvel. The 21st century version of Houston's famous AstroDome. Not only did it have a roof that could open and close in like 20 minutes (take that Olympic Stadium!) but it also had a bunch of other cool stuff too.

 

Like the pitcher's mound was on a hydraulic lift, so that when the CFL's Arognauts played football there, it would disappear from the playing surface. The bullpens were outfitted with cameras so that the warmups can be watched from a dugout monitor. There were even little old tyme touches too like incredibly detailed brass sculptures of fans watching the Jays play. Even their astroturf was supposed to be better, more high tech, easier on the knees.

 

It was where the Jetsons would play baseball. It was the future.

 

For a couple of years it was; Toronto had the crown jewel of stadia and people flooded from all over to check out a Blue Jays game. Then Baltimore's Camden Yards opened and people found that they'd rather be transported back to the past, then watch baseball in the future.

 

The past is alway less scary, we know what happened because we lived through it--or at least can read a sanitized version of events that happened. The future? Well, no one knows what the future holds in store for us. It could be better. It could be worse. Much worse.

 

For a sport that trades in nostalgia as much as baseball does, the future is not a Timbuk 3 jam, it's more of a dystopia (doesn't matter which one, pick one).

 

In 1993 my Dad and I decided to go to Toronto on a father/son weekend. We've never did this before, but he said that he wanted to check out the Hockey Hall of Fame* (as did I) and I wanted to see what the SkyDome had in store (he wasn't as intrigued as me).

 

* My Dad and I saw all four of the major sports Hall of Fames. We made a detour to Springfield in the late 80s on a waterlogged Cape Cod trip. We saw Cooperstown twice when the Amesbury High baseball team played a tourney there in back-to-back years. Then we went to Canton in 2016 (I think) to see the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Now that he's gone, I'm really glad that we got to do this. It meant a lot to him and it meant a lot to me too.

 

Toronto, the city, was awesome. Clean as Disney and a lot of fun. Since the drinking age was 18, my Dad said, "By, I want to get you your first beer." I think we both knew that was bullshit but I said, "Okay, let's go." Who am I to turn down a free brew?

 

Dad and I walked into a bar and we sat down and looked at the menu. All of a sudden he started looking around. He leans over and says to me, "By, do you notice something?" I looked around and shook my head no. He said, "There's only men in here." I looked around again, my eyes got big and I said, "We gotta get outta here!"

 

It was the early 90s, I was 18, gay panic was a real thing (for me at least). We scrammed and found a "less gay" restaurant to eat at: a TGI Friday's. It's a cringy memory no doubt, one that I'm not particularly proud of, but it still makes me laugh a bit.

 

Anyway, the SkyDome was fine. We had seats way the hell up in the third bowl and the players looked tiny. We caught a good game: the Mariners (the Jays were defending World Series champs and would go on to win another in three months) and it was really cool.

 

The one thing that I remember the most are the three women in front of us who were obsessed with Jays' catcher Pat Borders. Every time he did something or came up to the plate, they'd scream "GORGEOUS!" My choice of bars aside, I know what a good looking guy looks like, Pat Borders is decidedly not gorgeous.

 

But whatever, I'm sure there's a weird Canadian exchange going on here.

 

Here's the box score of the game: https://www.retrosheet.org/boxesetc/1993/B08200TOR1993.htm For the second entry in a row, Randy Johnson pitched a doozy going nine, striking out 11 and giving up one run. John Olerud didn't play that game, but the first five Blue Jay batters were amazing: Rickey, Devon White, Paul Molitor, Joe Carter and Roberto Alomar. Five Hall of Famers: Rickey, Molitor, Alomar, RJ and Ken Griffey Jr. Not bad.

 

23.

 

 

We are 23 days away from The Real National Hot Dog Day and we're counting down the stadiums I've been to in order from worst to best.

 

Today's stadium is the Turner Field in Atlanta, GA former home of the Atlanta Braves.

 

Turner Field was less than 20 years when the Braves decided that they didn't want to play there anymore. They broke ground on Truist Park in 2013 (Turner Field saw its first baseball game in 1997) and were playing in Cobb County by 2017.

 

I'm not saying that Turner Field is the best park that ever existed and that it's a tragedy that the Braves no longer play there. That's not the point. It sucks that the Braves don't play there anymore, but it has more to do with corporate greed than it does with the actual stadium.

 

In the early teens, the Braves wanted money ($500M) from the county to upgrade their stadium. Fulton county, where the stadium is located, told them to pound sand, that they'll give them a portion but not a half-billion dollars. Which is fair, if you ask me. The team already has a free place to play, they can chip in a couple of bucks if they want to spruce the place up.

 

The Braves got mad (billionaires and the like aren't used to people telling them no) and started making eyes to Cobb County, which is the county north of Fulton. Cobb County said that they'd be happy to build a team that's worth billions a stadium financed by public money.

 

And they did!

 

I spoke a little bit about corporate welfare before, and this is another example. The only time that sports owners care about loyalty is when you put your wallet back in your pocket and don't buy their bullshit. Then it's a nonstop caterwauling about how much the team means to the community. How it's enmeshed in the fabric of the Atlanta people. How important the team is to everyone and everything everywhere in Georgia.

 

It's all 100% percent bullshit. These people know what heart strings to pull when it comes to separating you from your money. Of course, when it comes to sports owners showing loyalty to their fans, you get the Ayn Rand Cliff's Notes version of her stupid, shitty books that every capitalist seems to love and commit to memory.

 

I'm not even touching on the sweet heart real estate deal that the county gave to the team for the Battery, which is the entertainment, restaurant and shopping area around the park. This is the biggest plum and it's what all owners are now trying to get because why have 81 days of revenue and ripping off your customers when you can have 365?

 

Seriously fuck those guys.

 

(Also there was some racial stuff of the Fulton County fan base that the Braves were done with, but which are "better" in Cobb County. I'm not getting into that, you can Google it if you want.)

 

As far as Turner Field goes, it was a nice park to watch the Braves play. My brother-in-law and his family live down there so we've gone to the park a couple of times and it was a nice take.

 

The first time we went was in July and it was sweltering. It was a day like only Rob Thomas could sing about. I think that we were in the third tier and there was no shade. My kids weren't alive yet, but my BIL and sister-in-law's kid was like three. Dude was a little trooper, he did not complain about the heat once.

We were watching the Sox and *I* complained more about the heat than he did. About the only thing he complained about was the post-game fireworks display. That's probably because a. they were too loud (he wasn't wrong) and b. he was dog tired.

 

Or maybe he was pissed Doug Mirabelli went yard. I know if Mirabelli did that to my home town team, I'd be fucking cranky too.

 

Here's the box score of the first game we went to: https://www.retrosheet.org/boxesetc/2004/B07030ATL2004.htm

 

Only one Hall of Famer in this game (David Ortiz), but noted good person Curt Schilling got the win and it was one of Nomar's last games as a Sox--he'd get moved within the month.

 

22.

 

 

We are 22 days away from The Real National Hot Dog Day and we're counting down the stadiums I've been to in order from worst to best.

 

Today's stadium is the Globe Life Park in Arlington, TX former home of the Texas Rangers.

Globe Life Park, formerly known by the clunky name the Ballpark at Arlington, was a Frankenstein's monster (remember, Frankenstein was the scientist, his creation was the monster! I hated writing that as much as you hated reading it) of ballparks.

 

It had the friezes of Yankee Stadium, the tallish left field wall of Fenway Park and a bunch of other crap from other parks thrown into a blender and spit out onto a parking lot in the middle of Texas. It looked nice and it played okay, but this was a textbook example of the sum of its parts being weaker than the whole.

 

I get what the architects were going for here; they wanted something timeless and classical looking but what they got was the kind of ballpark I'd have designed when I was 10 and was just grabbing the best parts of parks that I'd seen before. In fairness, this was what ballpark design was like in the 1990s thanks to Camden Yards.

 

Baseball fans wanted quirky parks that reminded them of a past that their teams might not have had. Old ballparks had quirks because they were shoehorned into urban areas where they abutted streets and were part of neighborhoods. Globe Life Park was built in the suburbs and surrounded by acres and acres of parking lots.

 

It was a forced quirkiness with reheated design elements than felt contrived.

 

That being said, it was a nice place to watch a game, though the ushers were real assholes. Every year we do a guy's trip where a bunch of friends and I hit a ballpark and the city surrounding it. For the Rangers we first went to Austin and then drove up to Arlington a day or two later for the Rangers/Orioles tilt. Both teams were, at that point in the season, a combined 70 games out of first place--they finish the season a combined 97 games out of first place (the Orioles were 61 games behind the Red Sox--remember when the Sox were good? Sigh). They were dreadful.

 

It was the summer of his Hall of Fame induction, so there was a Vlad Guerrero bobble head night* (celebrating the two years he was a Ranger at the end of his career) so there were a lot of people there ... for the beginning of the game. By the middle innings, it was really hot and people realized they had better things to do with their Saturday nights so they started leaving.

 

Me and my friends started walking around and trying to catch the game from different seats. We had decent tickets in the first tier, but when we tried to go into the upper seats we were stopped by security and told that we couldn't sit in that section and that we had to go back to our seats. This happened a couple of times, which was weird because this never happened in any other stadium I've ever been to (and I wormed my way down to two rows behind home plate in Milwaukee).

 

I don't know what the deal was with these ushers, but they sucked.

 

* No, I didn't get a Vladdy bobble head. I don't think that there was much in terms of security for giveaways as I saw people walking with as many as five bobbleheads in a bag. The fuck was that all about Texas Rangers? Bitter? Me? Noooo. Yes actually I am. Maybe I'll see if I can find one on eBay.

 

Aside from the shitty ushers, the park was nice and had a carnival feel to it, especially when it came to the food. They were selling hot dogs that were three feet long and had all sorts of insane topping on them. They had funnel cakes as big as Bruce Bochy's head and tons of other deep fried goodness to them.

Did I partake in this gluttony? I wanted to, but I partook in the excesses of Austin a little too much and my tummy had the rumblies.

 

The park was so much nicer than the Rangers' old park, which was the Foxboro Stadium of Major League Baseball. That place was a glorified high school field surrounded by scores of bleachers. It always looked like a miserable place to play, especially in the summer when it's 100+ degrees.

 

Despite being a perfectly cromulent stadium and only around for 25 years, the Rangers (and stop me if you heard this before) demanded a new stadium. Maybe Rangers owners were jealous driving by the Cowboy's new football stadium every day, but they got what they demanded. In the middle of a global pandemic their new park opened and no one was there to celebrate it. A real monkey's paw wish, maybe -- but since the owner's got their place for mostly free, they probably didn't give a shit if anyone in the community got to see it on opening night.

 

Which is probably why Globe Life Park was in a state of disrepair when we were there in 2018. Why bother fixing an old place up when you can get a new one for free--which sorta makes sense when you think about how the club borrowed nostalgia from old parks in the first place.

 

Here's the box score of the truly awful game that we saw on our trip: https://www.retrosheet.org/boxesetc/2018/B08040TEX2018.htm One Hall of Famer was seen: Adrian Beltre.

 21.

 

We are 21 days away from The Real National Hot Dog Day and we're counting down the stadiums I've been to in order from worst to best.

 

We're staying in Texas as today's stadium is Minute Maid Park in Houston, TX home of the Houston Astros.

 

Minute Maid Park started auspiciously enough, as before the first pitch was thrown, they had to change the name of the field. Originally it was going to be called Enron Field but if you were alive in the late 90s, you may recall that the company went through a bit of a rough stretch and eventually filed for bankruptcy.

What was the rough time? Well kids, consult your local library and (especially if you don't live in Texas) I'm sure you'll be able to find tons and tons of resources that will walk you through Enron's troubles better than your old pal Byron can.

 

The Astros couldn't manage to open a park without a name, so they found the good folks at Minute Maid orange juice and convinced (begged?) them to give them tens of millions of dollars to slap their name of their field for a set amount of time.

 

But Minute Maid Park is a really good place to watch a baseball game. It used to be better when the team designed quirks weren't sanded down, but it's still a fun place to watch a game.

 

What makes going to baseball parks fun is that even though the basic rules are the same (60 feet 6 inches between the pitcher's mound and home plate, 90 feet between bases) everything else in a baseball field is up for grabs. Want a 37 foot wall in left field? Fine. Want center field to be an absurd 505 feet from home plate (like in the Polo Grounds)? Go nuts.

 

There were monuments in the field play in old Yankee Stadium. Both Boston and Cincinnati had embankments before their left field walls that fielders literally had to run up in order to make catches. I think in old Tiger Stadium, there was a flag pole in center field. When Atlanta was home to minor league Crackers (yes, real name) there was a giant tree in center field that was never chopped down.

 

Unlike football and basketball and hockey and soccer, the field of play in baseball is bonkers. Houston initially tried to do something similar when they opened Minute Maid Park in 2000. Much like the old version of Fenway and Crosley Field, there was an embankment in the outfield. However, the Astros' version wasn't in left, it was in center field. Not only that but there was a flag pole in play that outfielders had to watch out for.

 

It was kinda cool that once or twice a year you'd see a centerfielder track a ball to the deepest part of the park, forget that there was a hill behind him, fall on his ass, the ball would drop and the batter (usually an Astro) would run forever. It was fun as hell. For some reason in the mid 10s, the Astros decided that there would be no more fun moments like that and leveled the hill and put the pole behind the outfield wall.

If they kept all that stuff, Minute Maid Park would be ranked higher.

 

Bloopers are popular and they're popular because we like seeing people fuck up. It makes us feel better about our lives when we can witness a dude who can hit a 100 mph fastball nine miles with a flick of his wrist fall down and look foolish. Baseball had these little obstacles in their parks, I think, to remind us that baseball players are human, like us. They screw up. They're not perfect. They're relatable. Removing these things takes the fan a little bit further away from the player and make them a little less than who we are, which doesn't really do them a lot of favors when you know how much they make.

 

Anyway, Minute Maid Park is a good take. They have a little train loaded with oranges that goes chugga-chugga-chugga on a track above leftfield whenever someone hits a homer. It's cute and a nice little touch.

When I took in the Astros game it was 2014 and I was in town for a conference. No one wanted to go to the game with me (this is when the Astros were completely bottoming out and were horrible -- they lost like 100 games a year for three straight years) so I went by myself. Like I said before, I don't have a problem with being by myself at a game.

 

I went early to walk around the stadium and really soak it in. I bought a couple of beers on the first level of the stadium and was walking up to the second level where my seats were. I was stopped by an usher and was told that Texas law prohibited bringing alcohol from one level to another. She was very kind but said, if I wanted to climb the stairs to my seat I either had to finish my beers on that level or throw them away.

 

Weird law, but okay. I ended up chugging both beers--which makes me a hero!

 

When I got to my seat in rightfield I was watching batting practice and hoping maybe to get a ball. I didn't care if I got one, but you know, it was something to keep me interested. I was pretty much in the row all by myself when a guy walked down the row (I was in the middle) and just stood next to me. He had sunglasses on and just kept his gaze to home plate. We were the only people there and he said absolutely nothing. Just kept staring.

 

I was going to try and talk to him but I could tell by his vibe that he did not want to be disturbed so I just sorta stared at home and watched shitty Astros try their damnedest to put one in right field. They all failed. Ever stand next to a stranger for 30 minutes and not say anything? It feels like hours. Finally he turns to me and says, "Is it hot out?" (the roof was closed) and I started verbally vomiting on him, "Yes sir, it is warm, but it's nice as hell in here you see I'm from Massachusetts and even in the summer it's cold and boy, do I hate the cold and geez Louise it's so hot here I'm not sure how you can stand it and it's a good thing the Astros play inside ..."

 

And the dude looked at me and turned back to field. We stood there until batting practice was over and then he sat down next to me. As the game wore on a family of Texans sat in the four empty seats next to me and they were as friendly as can be.

 

I'm not sure where they were from, but it took them two hours to get to the game, which they go to once a year. The father smuggled a bunch of booze in and he was pretty rocked by the seventh, but they were a lot of fun. I had a terrific time talking to them. Then the game was over and we all went our separate ways.

So to sum up, Minute Maid Park is a land of many contrasts.

 

Here's a box score of the game in question: https://www.retrosheet.org/boxesetc/2014/B05130HOU2014.htm Only one Hall of Famer (Adrian Beltre of the Rangers) but there is one slam dunk future HoFer (Jose Altuve) and a dude on the cusp (George Springer). Dallas Keuchal went nine for the win (this may have been the last complete game I've seen) and the Astros beat the Rangers in the Battle for the Soul of Texas.

20.

 

We are 20 days away from The Real National Hot Dog Day and we're counting down the stadiums I've been to in order from worst to best.

 

We're in California as today's stadium is Angels Stadium in Anaheim, CA home of the Los Angeles Angels.

 

To be completely truthful, if Anaheim Stadium was located anywhere other than California, it would probably be a little lower. But I really dig that whole California vibe, so it's a little higher than it should be.

 

Anaheim Stadium is where the greatest moment in my baseball watching life happened. It was Game 5 of the 1986 American League Championship Series, the Red Sox were down 3-1 against the California Angels. Not only that but the Sox were down three runs entering the ninth and they were getting dissected by Angels pitcher Mike Witt.

 

Angels manager Gene Mauch crapped his pants, the Sox scored four runs in the ninth, the Angels tied it in the bottom of the inning before the Sox won it in the 11th. Both teams flew back to Boston and the Red Sox kicked the crap out of California in games six and seven. They then went to the World Series when nothing traumatic happened.

 

The absolute pinnacle of that game was little-used outfielder Dave Henderson blasting a two-run, two-strike, two-out homer to put the Sox in the lead. I've written about this a million times, but this was a life transforming moment for me because the Sox were dead and buried. Their only hope was a guy who screwed up earlier in the game (he poorly timed making a home run saving catch at the wall, only to knock it over the wall), who barely played -- and was only in the game because Tony Armas was hurt -- and he hit the decisive blow.

 

It was amazing.

 

I never thought that I'd get to Angels Stadium to actually see where Henderson turned me into a believer. But I got to make my pilgrimage and even though the park is configured a bit differently now, the Rams used to play football there too but when they split to St. Louis, the Angels became the stadium's only tenant and they added a huge rock sculpture beyond the fences in center field.

 

Angels Stadium is the second oldest park in the American League, behind Fenway, which is bonkers to me. It's still a nice park, the seats were roomy, the concession stands were plentiful, the people around me were nice. It was a really good take.

 

The weather is always absolutely beautiful too. How can you not want to live there? Man. California is the shit.

 

Being Anaheim, there's a couple of Disney statues around (Disney once owned the Angels) but if that doesn't bother you, you can do far worse than this place.

 

Angels owner Arte Moreno was making noise about a new park (of course) and it looked like things were heading his way. But then a scandal involving bribes and kickbacks and a bunch of other shit got stirred up and that was the end of that journey.

 

So it looks like the Angels are going to be here for a little while. Which is good, they have a nice little slice of heaven (ugggggh, what an awful pun) and they should stick around and enjoy it.

 

Here's the box score of the game I went to with my family, I'm pretty sure we didn't stay for the whole thing because it was the end of a long week and I already strong armed them into going, but you get to do that sort of stuff when you're a Dad. https://www.retrosheet.org/boxesetc/2016/B04220ANA2016.htm

 

No current Hall of Famers, but no-doubt future HoFers Mike Trout and Albert Pujols were in the lineup for the Halos. That was a good summer, Giuliana and I saw Trout in the Spring and then Bryce Harper when we went to DC in the Summer.