Live by the clout, die by the clout

Like the lyrics of that oh-so-popular tune of the day, the Bostons left their luck in Cincinnati and their heart in Terre Haute.

The terror of the Philadelphia Philadelphias was on full display yesterday evening, as the Most Vigorous Players of the last two years cried "Charge!" and put their team in the head. Jimmy "Dynamite" Rollins and Ryan "The Temp" Howard put on an offensive showcase that hasn't been witnessed in the City of Brotherly Love since John Adams famous accosting of Ben Franklin in Independence Hall over the latter's lewd behavior with the courtesans of gay Paris.

To the moon went the orb! One after one other went the pill into the bleacher seating as the Philadelphia Philadelphias ratcheted up the swatting fury from the very first pill hurled. Poor Bartholomew "El Gordo" Colon! The corpulent hurler must have washed away his tears with molasses and chewing candy. A dismal time for the Bostons, indeed.

Tonight, "Nothin' Doin'" Jonny Lester paws the mound against an elderly Jaime "Pappy" Moyer, the aging southpaw whose hurling arm is held together with bailing wire and gumption. A fine June evening at the ball-park, and an even finer evening for the Bostons to take liberties with the Philadelphia Philadelphias!

A stampede of white cleats

Why a pachyderm balancing on a base-ball is a fair symbol for a team from Oakland, Calif., is beyond the comprehension of your humble correspondent. And while they may appear docile as they plod around the underbrush, there is something menacing about the leathery visage of a noble elephant. For when the feet begin stamping and the trunk lifts and blows into the air like the trumpets of war, it is surely time to scatter for safer locales.

Such was the situation this Memorial Day week-end when the Bostons steamed to the West Coast full of vigor after a rousing homestand that featured seven wins and naught a loss. But as the estimable Stuffy McInnes so sagely pointed out in previous correspondence, a cross-America journey in a Pullman car is a certainty to sap any ball-player's energies. And arriving in the City by San Francisco, the Boston heroes bumbled their way through a three-day set of games, losing each one by a significant sum of plate crossings.

The Boston Red Sox team were sapped of vim, and extended the string of tourist losses to seven. Were they lulled into a stupor by the Athletics' kindly faces and white cleats? No-one can be sure, though it was a certainty that the trumpeting elephant was ready to strike. Beware!

Author's note: Following the drubbing in the City by San Francisco, the Bostons steamed their way north to the logging town of Seattle, where the salty air of Puget Sound was a better tonic than that of the Golden Gate. The Olde Towne Team pummeled the Marine Men of Seattle with the corpulent and crafty Bartolo "El Gordo" Colon manning the mound. A streak-breaking to fire the Bostons' ball-playing corps! Huzzah for a winning match away from the homey atmosphere of Fenway Park.

A tonic for sciatica

A scourge is wreaking as much havoc with ball-players in Fort Myers as saxophone music is with youngsters. That scourge? Sciatica and back numb-ness! Noted hurler Joshua P. Beckett has succumbed to the aches, and the high-waisted Julio "High Pockets" Lugo has kept from the base-paths in hopes of curing his lingering lumbago.

What of the cause? Could those bad-luck rascals, the Minnesotas, be blamed for elevating the hoopla of the Mayor's Cup? Or Dancin' Jonny Papelbon waging a war with front-office execs over his perquisite post-game steaks at Frank Giuffrida's Hilltop Beef Barn?

Methinks it's all the work with the medicine ball. The solution? Bring on the corpulent one, El Gordo!