Will no one answer the call?

Responsibility for last-evening's debacle falls squarely on the shoulders of our once-reliable corps of relief hurlers.

When Skipper Francona operates his dug-out telephone device and the corresponding station in the bull-pen emits its feeble tinkle, is there no man able to answer the call in reliable fashion? The voice crackling over the wires makes a simple request: Deliver the pill to the awaiting backstop in a manner that confounds opposing bats-men, and record "outs" in the game ledger!

Instead, Rooters are treated to a procession of ineptitude not seen since Mike "Old Dog" Remlinger limped out of the 'Pen in aught-five!

These demonstrations of swatting-practice twirling must end at once!

Attn. Red Sox: The All-Star pause has not begun yet!

If this shoddy ball-playing continues, I will be forced to take a room at the Neal Institute!

The offense musters a mere two "hits" against a yannigan hurler, and our own veteran John "The Elder" Smoltz heads to the club-house for an early shower-bath? It appears to these eyes that our ball-men have forgotten that several matches stand between them and the All-Star pause in the contesting schedule.

Don't let the All-Star honors distract you from the task at hand. Leave aside the champagne flutes, oysters on the half-shell and broiled Delmonico steaks until the week-end. Pick up your leather mitts, ash-clouts and spiked boots and show us crisp baseball again!

Let us now praise Tim Wakefield!

If anything can soothe the sting of two shabby Red Stockings performances against an inferior squad from Puget Sound, it is the delightful news that our own heroic hurler, Timothy "Knuckles" Wakefield, has received the honorary title of Base Ball All-Star!

For 14 long seasons, "Knuckles" has toiled selflessly for the good of the team, the good of the Sport, and the good of all American citizens who expect their ball-players to uphold the highest standards of personal conduct. Yes, his accumulation of twirling achievements is legendary: He stands alone atop Red Stocking records for matches started, and is within spitting distance for the franchise record for "wins" and "strike-outs."

His baffling effect on the pill's flight, engendered by the mysterious "knuckle-grip," is something few dare attempt, let alone master. But we Rooters know that the greatness of Mr. Wakefield comes from actions that bean-counters, statisticians and base-ball dilettantes overlook.

Whether he is volunteering for duties of ignominy, such as sacrificing his scheduled pitching turn in order to twirl many innings of relief in support of a beleaguered bull-pen during the '04 League Championship Series, or simply volunteering his time on behalf of New England's neglected urchins, he demonstrates all that is good and decent in ball players.

And now, he will be suitably honored across this fine land when he wears the Flannels of the American League in this summer's fabled exhibition contest.

Three cheers for Knuckles -- ball player, gentleman, and All-Star!

And a merry Independence Day to you, sir!

Dear readers,

May your weiners be piping hot, your buns be toasted and your ale cold on your palate. Let the summer sun warm the flesh, and let an ocean breeze be most cooling on your moustache.

Settle down next to a portable wireless and revel in our freedom to listen to chapter after chapter of base-ball whilst sating ourselves with vittles and victuals procured from local merchants.

Cheers the sight of bunting at each and every parade, and holler gaily with every passing demonstration by the marching Women's Auxiliary.

And when our Heroes in Flannel, the Boston Red Stockings, plate ace after ace against the hapless Seattles, hoist your pilsner and be proud for America!

Your friend and confidant, patriot and Rooter, chronicler with Mr. Stuffy McInnes all things Red Stockinged and heroic on the base-ball pitch,

Hurdy Chadwick
Westbrook, Maine

Victory is ours!

After a devastating struggle in the late chapters, to-day's tilt against the Baltimores turned out with a much finer result: An eleventh hour victory!

Indeed, our gents in crisp flannel made a fine effort to forget the muffs and gaffes of the previous day's disappointment and turned in a dandy of a "win" this afternoon. The day was filled with Youkilises and Pedroias, and our strong hurler Papelbon passed a milestone of his own. The day even saw a fine scoring clout by one High-Pockets Lugo.

Lest we forget, we are dealing with heroes here, friends. Heroes.

Sometimes, there are just no words

Ponder your failure, relief-hurlers. Your epic, world-beating failure.

Ponder, and remember.

Never again.

(Back to my day-bed with a tumbler of Duffy's)

Fare-the-well, Col. Westbrook!

The good scribe, Col. Westbrook

Allow me a brief departure from base-ball happenings and Red Stockinged conquests about this great land, for I have news.

It is with heavy heart I relay to you, dear readers, that the editor and publisher of my most favorite local news gathering organization, Westbrook Diarist, has shuttered its doors, ran its inkwells dry and moth-balled its printing presses.

At first mention of the closing of the most esteemed periodical to grace the banks of the Presumpscot since Nell Cavanaugh's Studies of Cumberland County Loam: A Land-Tiller's Quarterly Reference, I retired glumly to my sitting chair. Pondering the news, I poured a healthy dram of Duffy's and, with not a little moisture in my eyes -- which I ascribed to the summer catarrhal, of course -- raised my glass to Col. Westbrook, the brave and enterprising documentarian of all things of note in the Paper City.

Though a relative newcomer to the lush boundaries of Westbrook, the good Colonel has educated me and the local citizenry as to what it means to live with local fervor, and to heartily celebrate this burg on the periphery of Portland's bustling seaport.

What's more, Col. Westbrook was magnanimous with his observations, and took time to share with Full Circuit Clout his fine rememberances of when the Red Stockings deigned to travel north from Boston to share the shining loot of World Series Victory with the men and ladies of Maine. We at Full Circuit Clout are honored to feature his writings.

So to Col. Westbrook, we salute thee with a flagon of Duffy's! Huzzah to the Diarist from the Banks of the Presumpscot! May your writings live on and invigorate future generations of Westbrookians!