Opening Day Meditation: How I Learned to Stop Hating the New York Yankees

New Hampshire Magazine’s Photoshop guy is phenomenal. Yes, I did go to Yankee Stadium for this story, but the yoga happened at their Manchester newsroom. That’s a Kevin Youkilis jersey in case you were curious. (Double click to read story)

It’s Opening Day: Yankees vs. Red Sox — and let the gloating begin!

Based on the injuries the Yanks are battling with A-Rod, Jeter and Texiera, there’s a fair chance that Boston and New York will be fighting each other to stay out of last place this year.

Sure, celebrating would be premature at this point, but fans in Baltimore, Toronto and Tampa Bay have to like their chances in the AL East where the Sox and Yanks used to trade off the division title and the Wild Card every season.

Before the Sox took their depressing nose dive, I surprised my son with a Yankee Stadium trip to see the home team when Sox-Yanks tickets at Fenway were simply unaffordable. To my surprise, I liked many of the people sitting around me despite my lifetime of regarding Yankees fans as arrogant, obnoxious punks. You can read my humble attempt at a Nobel Peace Price nomination in the April issue of New Hampshire Magazine, on newsstands now.

I love this cover, especially since New Hampshire was recently ranked as the Least Religious State in America by the Pew Research Center. The Red Sox is a more popular religion around here than Christianity, Judaism, Islam and Hinduism combined.

My first cover story for New Hampshire Magazine explores the die-hard subculture of NH Red Sox fans — and their fragile psychology after one of the most disappointing seasons in Sox history. (Cover design by J Porter)

We left no New Hampshire baseball angle unexplored, even tracking down Carlton Fisk’s 1963 high school yearbook. He’s the guy holding the trophy on the far right.

What if Carlton Fisk had decided to pursue pro basketball instead of pro baseball?

You can read the full story here.

Beyond Crappy Bosses: Favorite Obscure Tidbits Mined from the New Terry Francona Book

Literary Overdose:  Sox Dominance on my Bookshelves.

Based on my stockpile of baseball books, my home could be turned into the Red Sox Library of Congress. A quick snapshot of the Boston volumes on my shelves:

* Idiot by Johnny Damon.
* Deep Drive by Mike Lowell with Rob Bradford.
* Big Papi by David Ortiz with Tony Massarotti.
* Now I Can Die in Peace by Bill Simmons.
* Why Not Us? by Leigh Montville.
* Ted Williams by Leigh Montville.
* Watching Baseball by Jerry Remy.
* Have Globe, Will Travel by Bill Lee and Richard Lally.
* Red Sox Where Have You Gone?  by Steve Buckley.

That doesn’t even count all my other baseball books like Designated Hebrew by Ron Blomberg and Dan Schlossberg, and Big Hair & Plastic Grass by Dan Epstein. If unauthorized autobiographies for Orlando Cabrera, Randy Kutcher and Jack Brohammer ever come out, you can be sure I will be first at the book signings.

How many books about the Terry Francona Red Sox can one guy really read? I leaped on the ex-manager’s memoir as soon as it came out because I felt he was unceremoniously treated like crap and scapegoated on his way out of Boston. I was thrilled when I saw this billboard in Kenmore Square, only a few steps away from the Popeye’s Chicken restaurant favored by Jon Lester, Josh Beckett and John Lackey:

Ballsy Billboard for Francona’s Revenge

Yet, although I’ve always respected Terry Francona, he’s always bored me. Over the years, his press conference answers were straight out of the Bull Durham Cliche School and he cared more about keeping peace in the clubhouse than speaking his mind.  It’s definitely worth the $17 — less than a Fenway bleacher seat — to “listen” to him let loose on his unappreciative bosses and the occasional player (read: MANNY) who treated him like crap.

As is often the case, the big revelations in the book were leaked before the publicity tour, but I found the minutia fascinating. A few favorite snippets:

1. At the 2007 World Series, security at the Colorado Rockies park refused to believe that diminutive Dustin Pedroia was a Major League ballplayer:

Page 193 (Click to enlarge)

2. Pete Rose was a Mean Boss:

Page 243 (Click to enlarge)

3. A Burned Down Bridge Can’t Be Burned Any Further:

Page 342 (Click to enlarge)

4. You Never Know What You’ll Overhear in the Verizon Wireless Store: 

Page 333 (Click to enlarge)

Baseball Records of Another Kind — When the Spaceman Was the Posterboy For Stereo Speakers

Just stumbled across this advertising masterpiece in my 1975 Boston Red Sox souvenir program, the same precious archive that stores the Bob Montgomery denim leisure suit from Jordan Marsh.

Spaceman Stereos

Strangely, I never knew the real origins of Bill Lee’s “Spaceman” nickname. But it’s the “cool guy” hat (reminiscent of Rudy from Fat Albert) and the turntable that make me smile.

Bill Lee has long been a media darling for saying what’s on his mind, demonstrated on this autographed baseball below:

Former Red Sox star Bill Lee sometimes autographs baseballs “Yankees Suck Pond H2O.”

I caught up with Lee recently for an Atlantic Magazine story on the waning Red Sox-Yankees T-Shirt War.

This quote from our conversation has nothing to do with stereo speakers or 1970s fashion, but it sums up life:

“Without rivalries, there is no game,” Lee adds. “You have to respect your opponent, but when your opponent is down, you must step on them and never let them get up. You want to make sure the enemy isn’t still breathing.”

Fashion Flashback: Carlton Fisk Apparently Didn’t Want to Pose in This Denim Suit

Jordan Marsh, now part of Macy’s, had no idea the 1975 Red Sox would become American League Champions when they signed backup catcher Bob Montgomery as a spokesmodel. (Click to enlarge).

This was almost three decades before Johnny Damon, Jason Varitek and Tim Wakefield went on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy to makeover their wardrobes.

I love the 1970s — people took you seriously when you wore clothes like this.

Bob Montgomery is a classy guy, but I can’t imagine that the backup catcher was the first choice of Jordan Marsh or Haggar to walk the runway.

Carlton Fisk must have said “No way!”

The Virtual Hassles of Virtually Begging for (Non-Virtual) Red Sox Tickets

When the best players in the Major Leagues “only” earned $1 million salaries, $5 tickets were still a reality. (Autographed by Sox closer Bill “Soup” Campbell).

For the first time in my 30-plus years worshiping the Red Sox, I’m going to Opening Day!

My son and I will be sitting behind a pole in the infield grandstands, where we have been warned that either the catcher, the pitcher “or both” will not be visible, but hey, seeing 7 out of the 9 players is better than only seeing five or six. Maybe I won’t need to see home plate if the Sox don’t score. And maybe I’ll be happier NOT seeing Jon Lester depending on whether he’s having a Charlie Brown kind of day on the mound or not.

Pretty much describes the 2012 Red Sox starting rotation.

Healthy cynicism aside, I’m looking forward to experiencing the pageantry and eternal hope of a new season and bragging rights of being there. My dad has been a great dad but he would’ve been even greater if he had taken me out of school to see a ballgame.

What I’m not so thrilled about is the Red Sox tradition of Crappy Customer Service.

I entered an online drawing for an EXCLUSIVE TICKET OPPORTUNITY to buy up to four seats for Opening Day or for a Yankees-Red Sox game later in the year. I “won” a spot to enter the Virtual Waiting Room yesterday and logged on promptly at noon, the first moment they were taking orders. I stared at the screen (while typing other work) and a running shot clock told me how many seconds were left before they’d try to let me get to the Virtual Ticket Window.  This took at least 40 cycles.

Once I was in, I clicked on every seat category under $55 (see my childhood ticket stub above) and the computer said there was nothing left. Meanwhile, a 2:30 shot clock runs at every stage of the process, warning you that another fan will get your slot in the waiting room if you don’t finalize the transaction (this involves typing in credit card numbers, security codes, passwords, mother’s maiden name, blood types, etc.)

With no tickets showing up as choices, I clicked on “Best Available,” knowing that if they gave me the $170 Pavillion Club, I’d have to bail out. The system is not forgiving. If you don’t want what they offer you, you cannot log back on for more options.

After finally making it to the purchase round despite my unreliable Internet connection, I was greeted with the following screen:

“We’re sorry, we were unable to process your request due to high transaction volumes. Please try to submit your request again.” (Click to enlarge)

Blaming my frozen screen on HIGH TRANSACTION VOLUMES?  Isn’t that the reason for shoving us all in the virtual waiting rooms in the first place? Yes, I know I have become one of those unstable angry Internet people I try to avoid whenever possible. The kind of people who would call me up when I was a newspaper reporter and yell at me for getting their paper tossed in the snow or missing the Sunday coupon section.

I’ll be able to focus on the moment when I’m at Fenway Park and will try to channel that feeling of being there as a kid again. But right now is time to vent. I know I’m a sucker for fighting for tickets to see the Last Place Boston Red Sox, but do we all have to put up with Last Place Customer Service, too?

Who Sucks Now? An Inside Peek at the Red Sox-Yankees T-Shirt Wars

CLASSY AND CONFIDENT: Yankees Captain Derek Jeter humors Red Sox fans at Fenway Park. (Photo courtesy of Sully’s Brand)

I grew up with a homemade “Official Yankees Hater” poster in my childhood bedroom.

But I never understood Red Sox fans who hate Derek Jeter, who probably has taken the brunt of the mockery on Boston’s raunchy souvenir t-shirts over the years.

Turns out that these kind of crass souvenirs don’t sell well in Boston anymore, but they are selling like hotcakes in the Bronx.

I explore the fascinating reasons why in The Atlantic:

Bronx t-shirt vendor “Bald” Vinny Milano shows off his wares after a Yankees-A’s game. (Double click to read the story)

Kerry Rules, Yankees Suck?

Did John Kerry lose the 2004 presidential election over improper messaging?

From the right-hand corner of the political button display in my office: The Fred Flintstone presidential campaign shares equal time with Jimmy Carter, George Bush, Bill Clinton and Richard Nixon (notice the name of his running mate?).

But my most curious political souvenir comes from the streets outside Boston’s Fleet Center at the 2004 Democratic National Convention: Kerry Rules, Yankees Suck.

Strangely, there is no punctuation. There should be one if not two exclamation points.

Given that Red Sox fans have been known to inexplicably chant “Yankees Suck!” at Celtics, Bruins and Patriots games, as well as at concerts, it’s not so surprising it would surface on the national political stage — regardless if the voters in the 44 non-New England states ever got the joke.

Now that the Red Sox unfortunately do suck, it will be fascinating to see what happens to the “Yankees Suck!” cheer.

Here’s betting that the bitterness and resentment outside Fenway Park gets much much worse.  Ironically, scapegoating the Bronx Bombers just made a cameo in the Scott Brown / Elizabeth Warren U.S. Senate race.

Did God knock the Red Sox out of the playoffs?

All-Star Theologian Adrian Gonzalez

Although my athletic career has recently shown vibrant signs of promise with the Warrior Dash, I honestly never had much interest from the scouts in either Little League Baseball (singles hitter, no speed) or JV High School football (second-string offensive line).

But I do remember one thing.  When we were laughing on the bus after a horrible football loss, the coach went ballistic. How dare we not treat losing the game like we had lost our family dog?

I wonder what would have happened if any of us players pulled the Calvinism/predestination card. Our football coaches had very long memories that extended into gym class.

Enter Red Sox All-Star first baseman Adrian Gonzalez, who lived up to his preseason hype by hitting .338 with 27 homers and 117 RBIs.  After the Sox elevated the art of choking to a new level this month by blowing a 9 game Wild Card lead in just 30 days — going a historically horrendous 7-20 for the month — Gonzalez just shrugged his shoulders and said “Amen.”

Here’s how he was quoted by the Boston Globe’s Peter Abraham:

“It’s definitely something that didn’t plan for. We were wholly confident that we would make the playoffs but it didn’t happen,” he said. “We didn’t do a better job with the lead. I’m a firm believer that God has a plan and it wasn’t in his plan for us to move forward… God didn’t have it in the cards for us.”

And here’s what he said (perhaps in a different interview) according to the Boston Globe’s Dan Shaughnessy:

“God has a plan,’’ he said. “And it wasn’t God’s plan for us to be in the playoffs.’’

Either way, Gonzalez has given CCD teachers and rabbis preparing their Yom Kippur sermons plenty to talk about.

But my gym teachers would have killed him.

The United Countries of Baseball

The United Countries of Baseball, according to Nike.

I discovered this brilliant Nike poster four years after the fact, but it still resonates with me. Heck, I’m still enamored by their Ken Griffey Jr. for President campaign.

Click on the picture above for an enlarged version. The demographics are fascinating:

• Why do the Arlington Rangers, who were still nobodies in 2007, enjoy a wider berth of Texas than the Houston Astros?

• The St. Louis Cardinals seem to be imperialistic, taking up far more territory beyond Missouri. Perhaps an aerial attack from Wrigley might contain their ambitions.

• Ditto for the Pittsburgh Pirates. Have they staked a claim of all of Appalachia?

• I’m just not buying that the Washington National have any fans, let alone encroaching on most of the Orioles’ turf.

• Why do the White Sox and the Mets get treated like second-class citizens?

• I know for a fact that the Mariners own much of Idaho, too.

• It would suck living in a region without a Major League Baseball team, May as well be living overseas.

Can any baseball fans out there point out any geographical inaccuracies here?  Or explain any of my conundrums?

When the Red Sox took bribes…

Abraham "Bob" Tubin discreetly hands over the cash to Red Sox star Mike Andrews.

Speaking of Red Sox Opening Day, I coincidentally just stumbled across a copy of one of my favorite family photos of all time — my Grandpa Bob with 1967 “Impossible Dream” second baseman Mike Andrews.

The picture looks like he’s handing over some money to treat Andrews to a few Fenway Franks. The stack of Fives and Ones — even in 1969 or 1970 when this was taken — hardly made my grandfather come across like Donald Trump or Daddy Warbucks. He was a delivery driver for the Boston Herald and drove a cab on his day off to raise money for The Jimmy Fund, the official Red Sox charity for cancer research.

Mike Andrews later became the chairman of The Jimmy Fund.

But as nice as all that philanthropy stuff is, the real reason I love this photo is because Grandpa Bob is solely responsible for brainwashing me to be a Red Sox fan. I still can picture myself as a 9-year-old dozing off on his living room couch as Butch Hobson or George “Boomer” Scott went deep.

In later years, he became disgusted by player salaries and called them all “primadonnas.” But he still watched.

You can read more about my amazing Grandpa Bob here.

And if you’d like to send your own bundle of cash to The Jimmy Fund, it would be most appreciated!

If this photo were taken today, my grandfather would have been posing with Tim Wakefield and Clay Buchholz.