Delivery from the West Coast!

The results from sun-dappled California are here just days after the contests began between the Oaklands and our flannel-clad heroes.

Let me tear the envelope and deliver the goods:

In two tilts, the Red Stockings squandered a surprisingly efficient performance by "Simple Jack" Lackey, falling prey to the Athletics and their shiny white shoes, and took full advantage of effortless twirling by Beanpole Buchholz to even the series at one apiece.

To-night, the Bostons, having traveled the length of the new outpost of fashion and cinema that is California, will acclimate themselves to base-ball in the dry desert conditions of Anaheim.

We may sneak downstairs after mother puts the children to bed and repair to the wireless with a short glass of Duffy's. I am not, however, inclined to root in silence. Give me strength to remain quiet should the infield react to sharply hit ground balls with heavy handed muffs and boners, or should to-night's twirling cause me to chew fretfully on my moustache.

Beat that lumbago, Knuckles!

What a malady to befall our tricky hurler, Knuckles Wakefield! A sciatica or lumbago is no trivial matter, and it seems our heroic victory-earner is in line for some rest and relaxation away from the ball-park.

In his stead will be Clay "Beanpole" Buchholz, who has dazzled at the minor league level, and is eager to regain his professional form on the carefully manicured diamonds of the Major Leagues. All eyes will be on his pill tossing this eve.

Godspeed, Knuckles, and Godspeed Beanpole!

Play ball!

Rooters: Sharpen your pencil-leads and prepare your score-cards!

To-day, at last, the Red Stockings begin exhibition contests under the Florida sun. Their first opponents are that fine, hale bunch of lettermen from Boston College, seen above in a studio photograph. These lads are sure to be awestruck from simply sharing a diamond with their professional balling heroes.

But for myself and Hurdy Chadwick, the afternoon's drama shall not be found in the accumulation of "runs" and "outs." Instead, we intend to scrutinize the action for tantalizing portents of the season's fate.

- Will "High Pockets" Lugo begin demonstrating his case for the starting short-stop role when he first toes the dirt of the batter's box?

- How will hometown hero Rocco "The Woonsocket Rocket" Baldelli overcome the mysterious nerve condition that prevented him from participating in regular contests last year?

- Can our aggregation of veteran and yannigan hurlers command the pill with vim and determination -- especially the fallen-angel of the staff, "Beanpole" Buchholz?

The time for idle speculation and academic debate is over. Deeds on the diamond will provide the answers we've long awaited. Huzzah!

Alas, the mid-day contest is not being carried on the wireless. However, a syndicate of newspaper men have apparently commandeered a disused ticker-tape device from a renowned industrialist recently ruined in the Bank Panic of '09. They've adapted the machine to receive telegraph updates from sideline reporters, and will dutifully recount the action through the miracle of modern electronics.

What a time to be alive!

Let's go down to Florida Town!

The slush piles continue to grow in the northeast, but Red Stockings hurlers and their prodigious mitt-men already have escaped the winter wind.

As I write, our heroic batterymates from all points in the country are chuffing on railroads toward sunny Florida. Buchholz, Lester, Beckett, the gang's all here! Saito, Smoltz and Penny, the new crop comes with freshly oiled mitts and a willingness to learn the game the Bostonian way -- with courage, grit and flaggons of Duffy's Pure Malt Whiskey at the ready!

Tomorrow, the Lushing Season ends and Spring Training begins. Glory to be alive, for spring can't be far behind in New England!

A change of address

At long last, the beleaguered “Beanpole” has packed his gripsack and boarded an express train out of Boston. He punched his own ticket with another dreadful hurling performance last evening that, mercifully, lasted barely two chapters. It was long enough, however, to let Victory drape her gentle cloak over the Birds of Baltimore.

His destination: The junior-league squad of Portland, Maine. That being Hurdy’s and Stuffy’s local metropolis, we shall endeavor to witness a contest from the grand-stand to provide for you, Rooting readers, a first-hand account of his remedial twirling training. I am also prepared to offer the lad free reign over my private stock of Duffy’s Pure Malt Whiskey, if it should restore his nerves.

The challenge of the lefty youth

In just two official appearances as a Major Base-Ball League member, Clay "Beanpole" Buchholz tallied one of the sport's most vaunted accomplishments: the "zero hitter." It was a crisp September evening in good Boston when the lanky Texan twirled the pill through the Baltimore swatters, not one of which were able to place a ball beyond the reach of the Boston gloves.

But following the "striking out" of the very last batsman, whilst his team-mates rushed the pitching mound, Buchholz was dazed. Even when Capt. Varitek lumbered up on his prodigious gams and hoisted the youngster into the air, Buchholz appeared to have difficulties comprehending his accomplishment.

Certainly, his youth played a part. But given his record of two wins and seven losses this season -- and with his per-game allowance of nearly eight "runs" a game -- one must wonder if the Beanpole is having troubles properly harnessing his prodigious talent. For sure, he has shown that he can compete with the best heroes of the base-ball world. But will he gather his skills and keep opponents from pasting aces on the scoring board?

Today's the day, with Buchholz challenging the potent offense of the Chicagoans, those white-stockinged ne'er-do-wells led by the the perpetually angry Oswald "Words for You" Guillen. I for one have good feeling about the Beanpole's growth prospects. Let the sun shine and allow that plant to blossom, young Buchholz!

Keep away from open flame

Not even a king's serving of fine wieners and lashings of Duffy's Pure Malt Whiskey can make me forgot the horrible spectacle of last evening's contest.

In one chapter, the wiley Matsuzaka is sending bats-men back to the pine perch with dazzling command of the pill. The next, he's apparently poured a canteen of kerosene over his head and struck a match! It happened faster than a motor-car collision on a rain-slicked street. Oh, untimely bases on balls! Oh, the surrenduring of full-circuit clouts!

When the horrendous hurling had ended, the surging squad from Anaheim township in the county of Los Angeles in the state of California had collected enough "runs" to place victory beyond the reach of the Bostons' bats -- not that they weren't presented opportunities to hew and hack their way back.

A hopeless "whiff" by Jac Ellsbury when the diamond was bristling with Boston base-runners made me think that perhaps this yannigan needs another turn in the junior league. Then, a poorly struck ball from The Wonder resulted in a twin-killing that discontinued yet another counter-strike.

To-night, we hope that the lanky Buchholz can reclaim his twirling prowess and keep these Anaheims of Los Angeles in California from tramping round the bags and festooning the score-board with numbers.

The Kings of Fort Myers

There was barely a dandy to be seen without a celebratory cigar on the avenues of Fort Myers this afternoon, as our local squad defeated cross-town rivals the Minnesotas by an impressive tally of 12-7. The triumph brought bragging rights and the coveted Mayor’s Cup back to the Boston’s clubhouse this year. A harbinger of larger victories yet to come?

Starting hurler "Beanpole" Buchholz twirled a solid 3 frames before surrendering a pair of runs to the challengers, but his team-mates took their revenge at the plate. “Colossus” Ortiz and his partner in swat, “Man-Child” Ramirez, each notched run-scoring two-baggers. But neither of those monumental home-run getters drove the sphere over the fence this day.

Instead, the four-ply drives came courtesy of third-string backstop Kevin “Flash” Cash, “Rip” Van Every, and Our Captain. In all, it was a display of Base Ball skills that will stand as a classic in the annals of Mayor’s Cup contests!