Who is Rich Hunter?

The Red Sox pitcher on Aug. 17, 1996, had started 374 major league games for the Red Sox, and although he would start 333 more in his 24-year career, he would pitch only eight more times for the Red Sox.

The Phillies pitcher that day was making his eighth start for the Phillies. He would start six more that season and then never pitch again in the big leagues.

Let's backtrack.

While looking at my program yesterday for the post on Roger Clemens' last Fenway shutout for the Red Sox, I noticed that I had saved the little insert that lists news and other teams' rosters. (For the long-timers, this is similar to the Phillies former Newsy Notes.)

Of course, I checked to see what the Phillies were doing that day. They were hosting the Giants and starting a 1-3 pitcher named Hunter. I couldn't remember a Hunter on the Phillies in the mid-1990s. Neither could Christine, which is odd because both of us tend to remember most scrubby players.

We were more curious when we found out that the Phillies pitcher, Rich Hunter, had made 14 starts that year but never pitched again in the majors. He kicked around the minors and independent leagues until 1999 and his career ended when he was 24 years old.

The most we could find on him was a 1996 Baseball Digest story talking about rookies who could make an impact. He went 19-2 with a 2.73 ERA in A and AA ball in 1995, earning the organization's Paul Owens Award for minor league pitcher of the year.

"He doesn't throw real hard, but he's just got phenomenal control," said Del Unser, Phillies director of player development. "He's got a big-league curveball and a big-league changeup along with big-league control (32 walks in 184 innings) and big league poise."

We found a couple game-day stories about his starts, but not much else.

Fortunately, Christine remembered that I hadn't yet thrown out my 1996 Scranton Wilkes-Barre Red Barons program. Sure enough, today's topic is in there on page 67. But there's not much to note other than he was single in 1996 and a 1992 graduate of Linfield High School in California, where he was first-team All-State in baseball.

I'm willing to bet injuries played a role, but I'd love to know why he never panned out.

Football: As is becoming annual tradition, I forgot to post my playoff picks yesterday. Good thing because I would have picked the Bengals and Eagles. I just couldn't see the Jets winning a game, and I thought the Eagles had a bigger choke in them. Oops. Today, I pick the Patriots and Packers. So if you need some money, bet on the Ravens and Cardinals.

My last untainted memory of Roger the Red Sox

Until Andre Dawson ends the speculation and announces that he will enter the Hall of Fame as a Red Sox, people will wonder if he will wear a Cubs or Expos hat into Cooperstown. Seriously, I endorse Les Expos.

The topic recently prompted Rob Neyer to list which caps he thinks certain multi-team stars should wear. He said that, without a doubt, Roger Clemens should go in with a B on his head.

After all that has happened (and assuming they start voting in roiders), I'm not sure I would even want that anymore.

But it did give me the opportunity to revisit Aug. 17, 1996 - the day I was in the stands to see Clemens throw his last home shutout for the Red Sox.

I kept score, but I couldn't scan a copy because the scorecard boxes have diamonds on them, making the page hard to read. (I prefer empty boxes on my scorecards.)

I don't remember much except the experience of watching a seemingly washed-up Roger Clemens revert to The Rocket. He was dominant. The place was electric. And I was thrilled. Of course, the whole thing was probably fake.

Recently, I salvaged the program from that day. It touts Jeff Frye, Reggie Jefferson, Bill Haselman and Jose Malave as unsung stars of the 1996 Red Sox, which finished 82-80.

Other stars on that lackluster team included Mike Stanley, Mo Vaughn, Tim Naehring, John Valentin, Wil Cordero, Mike Greenwell, Jose Canseco and Troy O'Leary.

See, this is why I seldom criticize SoxandPhils management. I'll never forgot rosters like these.

To the right are some photos of the team. Without editorial comment, notice Vaughn, Canseco, Clemens, Tim Wakefield, Kevin Mitchell, Tom Gordon and Jamie Moyer.

Not included on this page - but we'll show him separately - is an ultimate SoxandPhil. One of two to be officially owned by this Web site: Healthcliff Slocumb "if you got 'em."

I won't get myself riled up by discussing why he is not in the Hall of Fame, but if, no, when he is inducted, what do you think - Red Sox or Phillies hat? Other than three years with the Cubs, he never spent more than two years in one place. He performed better as a Phillie, but had more saves as a Red Sox.

And I think he should get bonus credit for his impact on Red Sox history. Without him, there would be no Derek Lowe and Jason Varitek and therefore no trophy in 2004.

I know it won't happen, but Slocumb's induction speech would make me feel a lot happier than Clemens'.

Random thoughts halfway through Christmas vacation

While I'm waiting for paint to dry (we decided at the last minute to paint the bathroom), I figured I would take the opportunity to catch up on some of the tidbits I've been meaning to mention during our week off. Besides, there are only so many times that I can write about some random program I've had lying around for decades or the fact that Jason Bay will be playing for the Siberia Mets.

--Eric Bruntlett, who went from a throw-in to the Brad Lidge trade, to a defensive specialist, to World Series hero, to author of an unassisted triple play, has signed a minor-league contract with the Washington Nationals. How does someone go from being the utility guy on the league's best team to hanging around with the Pete Orrs, Eddie Guardados and Jamie Burkes of the world just trying to make the roster of the league's worst team?

--Big jeers to Sports Illustrated. I know everyone tends to overrate the things we're most familiar with, but didn't Harry Kalas deserve more than one line when Sports Illustrated recapped the sports figures who died in 2009? At least Paul Hagen did him justice.

--A year or two ago, when I finished saving all my childhood sports memories from my parents' attic, Christine and I agreed to condense them all into a couple of plastic bins in the crawl space. Even though we have never had a drop of water in that area, we've been hesitant to store anything there.

This weekend, we learned that even our basement has its breaking point: two feet of snow washed away by a day's worth of pouring rain. It was a large puddle, but not a big deal. It touched one of the bins, but my extensive baseball card collection is safe. Christine is very relieved we didn't have to throw it out. {No, just disappointed. The water was so close and almost finished off the thousands of cards that Greg insists he must keep for no good reason.}

--Christine and I went to the art museum on Monday. We saw the Rocky statue from the car. We didn't run the steps because it was too cold.

--Speaking of which, it has been frickin' cold this week. Yesterday, the wind chill was 11 degrees. Today, I took down the Christmas lights, but wanted to come in after 15 minutes because my hands - even with gloves - were going numb. It's a perfect day to drive to Boston and watch an outdoor hockey game or football game or rock concert. Brrr. Somehow this story made me colder.

[Photo credit: MSNBC.com]

My farewell to Mickey Mantle

It was a spur-of-the moment thing. Someone invited me to a Yankees game, and I went.

It was Aug. 13, 1995 - the day Mickey Mantle died. The Mick gave me one of my favorite baseball stories, so I put aside my partisan bias and paid my respects.

I don't remember much from the game, other than it was emotional. It was probably overdone in typical Yankee fashion, but I don't remember being too annoyed by it.

David Cone, who had been recently stolen from the Blue Jays, pitched a gem against a really good Indians team. He gave up a run on six hits and three walks with nine strikeouts in a complete game.

According to Wikipedia, they played Somewhere Over the Rainbow at the stadium because it was Mantle's favorite song.

Other Sox or Phils in the game: Kenny Lofton, Jim Thome, Manny Ramirez, Alan Embree, Wade Boggs and Jim Leyrtiz.

Another Yankee I once met, Pat Kelly, better known now as Casey Kelly's dad, also participated. Charlie Manuel was the Indians hitting coach.

I have no real reason why I'm writing about this now. The program (scorecard pictured above) was part of the latest batch of stuff I salvaged from my parents' attic and has been sitting in a pile waiting for me to write it up.

Least relevant retrospective you'll read this week

This week, which ends the first decade of the 21st century, there are all kinds of best-of lists, look-backs and assessments of what the last 10 years actually meant.

This post is similar in that it takes a look back, but it really has little connection with the '00s. It's a look at the 1996 Scranton Wilkes-Barre Red Barons. Why? Because their yearbook somehow made it into the latest batch of stuff I salvaged from my parents' attic. I don't know who gave me this book, but I thought it would be worth a write-up before I send it to the recycling bin.

As you can see from the pictures (replete with period hair styles), the big future stars were Mike Lieberthal and Scott Rolen. They were managed by former Red Sox Butch Hobson, until he was arrested on cocaine charges. Funny, there's no mention of his extracurricular activities in a yearbook story that paints him as an All-American winner.

Other notable players on the team included Ruben Amaro Jr., Mike Benjamin, Rob Butler, Bobby Estalella, J.R. Phillips, Kevin Sefcik, Bob Zupcic, Desi Relaford, Kevin Stocker and Gregg Jefferies.

Some of the pitchers included Mitch Williams, David West, Curt Schilling, Tommy Greene, Bobby Munoz and Mike Mimbs.

There wasn't a lot of talent on this team. Most of the notable players were veterans on rehab assignments.

The back page kind of proves how weak the Phillies system was back then - besides Rolen. Following Scott on the list of the organization's top 10 prospects were: Dave Coggin (a pitcher out of the Curt Schilling mold), Marlon Anderson, Reggie Taylor, Mike Grace, Estalella (The Phillies see their catcher of the future as Estalella, not former first-rounder Mike Lieberthal, who was eligible for this list but hasn't show (sic) enough with the bat to project as a big leaguer starter), Carlton Loewer, Wayne Gomes, Larry Wimberly and Wendell Magee.

Highlighted as a prospect on the Montreal Expos was SoxandPhil Ugueth Urbina. He was recently mentioned in a traditional decade retrospective with a slot on the "aught-not" team because of his legal troubles.

The Pawtucket Red Sox also had a page, which was highlighted by Clyde "Pork Chop" Pough, a slugging prospect who never panned out. He played for the Trenton Thunder when we were in college. I was convinced that with a name like Pork Chop he couldn't miss. Christine would have loved him.

Even in some random 13-year-old minor league program, you can find some SoxandPhils connections to reminisce about.

SoxandPhils should have been in the bibliography

I read a couple more chapters today of The Rocket that Fell to Earth. It was the part that describes how Roger Clemens made the leap from an awful human being to a cheating drugged-up loser in the mid-1990s, thanks to some help from Jose Canseco.

As he looked around the clubhouse, Clemens surely noticed that he was surrounded by aging and adequate players. What he also noticed was that one older player who seemed to be getting bigger, stronger and better was Jose Canseco.

The book describes how Canseco tried hard to become a B-list celebrity with a fling with Madonna, a 1-900 line and mansions on each coast.

It also noted the 1995 Red Sox yearbook, whose juiced-up contents was duly noted on this blog a year ago. Here's what Jeff Pearlman wrote:

On the cover of the 1995 Red Sox Yearbook, Canseco posed in a black tank top, arms folded, biceps popping (wrote Mark Newman in the Sporting News, "It looks less like a team yearbook than, say, the latest issue of Playgirl").

OK, Newman beat us by more than a decade, but we were the first with the steroid link. And, unfortunately, this is not the cover shot, but one from inside the yearbook. But I think you still get the picture of what he was talking about.

Today's news: Red Sox are off; Phillies play late in San Diego. ... Gannett's furloughs don't exempt sports baseball beat writers. ... Jerry Remy sounds good in an audio Tweet released today. ... Todd Zolecki, not furloughed, reports: Raul Ibanez is now second in All-Star voting; Ryan Howard was co-player of the week; Kyle Drabek was promoted to Double-A Reading; and you shouldn't trust a Tweet from a Phillie other than Chad Durbin or Jamie Moyer.

More memories from Boston Baseball

Yesterday I mentioned Boston Baseball, the underground Red Sox program that Scott Lauber used to write for.

I didn't mention why I had this issue and why I won't throw it out. I got it during the first real road trip Christine and I took together way back in 1998. We went with some of my friends.

Everyone went to one game, but Christine and I planned to go to a second, which was rained out. There was an afternoon game the day we were leaving, and Christine was good enough to let me scalp tickets to catch the matinee before heading back to New Jersey. It cost me a few bucks plus the tickets for the makeup game.

We sat in cramped seats that faced left field. Christine was uncomfortable. I sat next to a larger woman who kept sitting on my jersey. Although Christine still complains about the experience (here's a link to her explanation), it was one of my favorite experiences at a ballpark until all the great times with the Phillies the last two years.

The reason? It was the first year of Pedro. He was magnificent. The park was colored with Dominican flags and Pedro had a vintage outing: 8 2/3 innings, five hits, one walk and 10 strikeouts. Tom Gordon got the save.

The Red Sox had a seven game lead in the wild card (the division was a lost cause), but it seemed like a playoff game. Yes, that feeling was exceeded by attending the Phillies division clincher in 2007 and the three playoff games we saw in 2008, but the atmosphere was incredible for an August game.

Working his way up

The other day, Scott Lauber mentioned he used to cover minor league baseball, which reminded me I hadn't posted this little nugget I found while cleaning my junk out of my parents' attic.

Flipping through a 1998 issue of Boston Baseball, an underground scorebook and magazine tailored to cheap Red Sox fans like me, I saw a story on Mike Benjamin written by Lauber, who is now the only Gannett beat writer covering the Phillies.

It's pure SoxandPhils, mentioning Benjamin's 1996 stint with the Phillies and how he was currently third on the Red Sox in batting average.

He also wrote a profile of defensive whiz Darren Lewis, which contained a rip on SoxandPhil Wes Chamberlain. "In other words, he's not Wes Chamberlain, whose two-year Red Sox career could fill a baseball bloopers video," Lauber wrote.

He also wrote that Dusty Baker likened Lewis to former Phillie Garry Maddox.

It's like he was auditioning for his future job.

Current Boston Globe columnist Tony Massarotti wrote the lead story on Pedro.

Mike Gimbel, the statistician who by then had been ridiculed out of the Red Sox front office, didn't do himself any favors with his ranking of the top minor leaguers of 1998 - Peter Bergeron and Alex Escober topped the list of position players ahead of Troy Glaus, Eric Chavez and Adrian Beltre. The top pitching prospect? Bruce Chen.

Ah, the Dan Duquette era.

What the hell was I thinking?

A lot of times Christine will ask me why I saved certain stupid items at my parents' house. I beat her to the punch when I found I had saved a whole pack of MLB chewing gum, as well as an empty pack that had the Phillies logo on it. I'm sure this was packed away well before I met Christine and the Phillies meant anything to me.

There are also a couple of Red Sox key chains, which I may place in my new cubicle at work. Everyone thinks I'm weird because I have no decorations up.

That Yankees ticket represents a good story. Someone - possibly an aunt - had a bunch of tickets to the 1993 home opener. Stupidly, I went with my sister instead of my brother. She's a bit more timid and cautious.

We left long before him - maybe even three hours before the game started. From my parents' house, the ride takes 15 minutes with no traffic. But there was plenty of bumper-to-bumper traffic. We sat and sat and sat and then saw my brother blow past us by riding on the shoulder.

We finally made it as the game started, but there was no parking within a mile of the stadium, and my sister was too scared to park her car on the street. We turned around to go back home and had Wendy's at the mall instead of seeing the game.

I thought I blew my only chance to go to a home opener, but seven years later, Christine and I went to the Phillies home opener against the Mets. The Phillies won 9-7, but we don't remember anything from the game - except the crowd with divided loyalties was quite raucous and drunk. Christine got hit with a beer. Ah, the good old days at the Vet. Things like that would never happen at Citizens Bank Park. Oh wait. There was this, and this.

Administrative: We have to hit the road early today, so if the Phillies did something stupid last night like signing Nomar Garciaparra or Moises Alou, we'll have to catch up tomorrow.

P.S. Greg just tried the chewing gum. I thought he broke his front teeth because the crunch was so loud when he bit into it. He quickly spit it out and ran for a drink. His verdict? Doesn't age as well as baseball card bubble gum.

Sign here

I'll conclude my latest series of stuff I salvaged from my parents' attic with some autographed mementos.

To the left is the most personal. It's on stationary I created in graphic arts class in middle school. I was neither a good poet nor artist. The awkward-looking Red Sox cap is actually quite good for my abilities. The writing - "I'm the number 1 fan of the Boston Red Sox clan!" - isn't.

The autographs are Jeff Reardon (long before he robbed a jewelry store) and Mike Greenwell. I met them when family friends invited me along to the Benevolent Loyal Order of Honorable and Ancient Red Sox Diehard Sufferers of New York luncheon. The BLOHARDS are a group of displaced Red Sox fans who get together when the Sox invade New York.

Usually, players or someone associated with the team addresses the crowd. I don't remember much from the speeches, only that I was certain to bring along the stationary. I don't think either commented on it.

In high school, a classmate's father, upon learning that I was a Red Sox fan, said he knew Dave Morehead, a subpar pitcher from the 1960s. But at the time - before Hideo Nomo, Derek Lowe, Clay Buchholz and Jon Lester - he was the last Red Sox to pitch a no-hitter. He shut down Luis Tiant and the Indians 2-0 on Sept. 16.

I thought it was neat and kept the picture tucked in my bedroom mirror for several years.

Finally, and most embarrassing, is a pair of signatures I actually paid for outside of Fenway. One is a nice shot of the park, but it's muddied by the John Hancock of then-General Manager Dan Duquette.

The other was a shot of Aaron Sele, the guy I thought would take Roger Clemens' spot as ace of the staff.

Things didn't quite turn out as I expected, but Sele did have a pretty good career for the 23rd draft pick in 1991. He was much more productive than Brian Taylor, the huge bonus baby taken No. 1 by the Yankees who injured his arm in a bar fight and never made it to the majors.

The Phillies pick that year? Tyler Green - taken two slots ahead of Doug Glanville and three ahead of a certain third baseman named Manny Ramirez.

Roger Clemens racing

I didn't intend on this being Roger Clemens week, but the holiday has given me time to do some short essay writing. Here's one from my Cub Scout days:

A definite highlight of Cub Scouts was the Pinewood Derby. Dad would install the weights and carve the car, and I would paint it and stick the numbers on the back in hopes my little piece of wood would roll down a ramp faster than anyone else's.

I competed twice. The first time was with a black car with flames on it. It had my initials, and I used No. 31 for Dave Winfield. I think I came in second place, and I got to compete at the regionals, where I was blown out of the water. Those guys were serious.

In year two, I didn't win anything. Maybe because the car was an homage to Roger Clemens - all red and blue with a big 21 on the hood and an "R" on the trunk.

That little speck in the middle? Dad was a little sloppy with this edition and used a screw that was too big to hold in the weights. That sucker is sharp. After I salvaged this from the attic, Christine couldn't believe they let me race with that sticking up.

I can't believe anyone would allow a little kid race with a car dedicated to Roger Clemens.

My Al Bundy moment

Christine never gets tired of hearing about the year I hit .714 and led my team of misfits to an undefeated season in my town's junior baseball league.

{This is a sorta cute story the first time you hear it. I've now heard it probably more than 100 times. It's not so cute anymore.}

The year was 1989, and for some reason, all the crappy players like me were dumped on one team. I was 12 at the time. Every team had one 12-year-old because nearly all the competent players that age were in the higher league. So, as Christine likes to remind me, I was playing against kids a lot younger and smaller than me.

But that's irrelevant. I had the season of my life, getting a hit in every game and making the All-Star game. Really, that was a thrill for me.

We went undefeated until a fateful playoff game. Everything was off. The coach's kid got hurt, so I had to move from first base to shortstop. I was built more like Cecil Fielder than Ozzie Smith in those days, so I was terrified. I didn't have any mishaps in the field, but I got to return to first base after my friend, who was pitching for the other team, drilled me in the leg. There were imprints from the ball's stitches in my leg for a week.

{Are you rolling your eyes yet?}

I made an out in the last inning - can't remember if it was the final out - by smoking a liner that the pitcher's twin brother snared at first base.

We lost. I cried. Oh, and it's important to note that it was very rainy that day, and no umpires showed up, so one of the fathers from the other team got to call balls and strikes. I'm not bitter or anything.

Keeping a promise I made with Christine, I ditched the trophies temporarily salvaged from my parents' attic - one is for winning a division, another for the All-Star team and the little one is for "graduating" from the league after the season. Hey ... what's that other silver one? Who put the Phillies travel mug in the picture?

I miss old-school Nintendo

Being between jobs this week gave me plenty of time for chores I've been putting off for a long time, decades even. I went through my closet and got rid of all my clothes that are too big, I gave the windows a really thorough cleaning, and I finally organized my memorabilia from the trip to England I took when I was 17.

I've been surprisingly busy when I thought I'd be sitting around in my underwear playing video games such as Roger Clemens MVP Baseball. I haven't played it (don't know if my old Nintendo still exists or works), but I came across the game while looking through a trunk of baseball cards I salvaged from my parents' attic last month.

I don't know why I saved it or my scribbles of progress codes, including notes as to which pitchers I had used.

It's in the trash now, but it gave me an opportunity to remember its cheesiness, thanks to this YouTube posting:



Before finding that video, I had forgotten how lame this game was. It starts off with generic peppy intro music, with the Rocket firing one at you. Then you choose your team - there were no MLB licenses, so all the teams had generic names like the San Francisco Quakes or Cincinnati Big Cats.

Similarly, other than Clemens, all the players IDs were cleverly concealed. You couldn't pitch Dave Righetti, but there was a Raggs in the San Francisco bullpen. Kevin Bass was nowhere to be found, but Basser was. There wasn't a Bobby Ojeda, but there was an Oleda pitcher for Los Angeles. Playing rightfield is Raspberry ... where's Darryl Strawberry?

Then, there are a few bars of the national anthem with two generic but patriotic players who look strangely like Wade Boggs and Dwight Evans placing their caps over their hearts. Finally, game action, which is just as cheesy as everything else I described, begins.

Thankfully, when you were at your wits' end, Clemens himself would pop in for some "Rocket Talk" to help you win the game.

I couldn't find a screen grab that says, "When you're old and washed up, turn to performance-enhancing drugs."

I don't play many video games anymore, but when I do, my tastes are a little more sophisticated.

[Image: Moby Games]

A Joe Torre memory that doesn't irritate me

Compared with Christmas when we do the Burlington-to-Camden-to-Bergen-and-back-to-Burlington-county tour in one frenzied day, Thanksgiving is a breeze. We split the families over two days. Today, we head to North Jersey where, depending on how crazy things are with the family, we might pull some more junk, err, treasures from my childhood out of the attic.

Last time we went up, we salvaged some newspapers - nothing much to speak of - and my old Baseball Talk Player.

For those who aren't familiar, Wikipedia's entry is pretty thorough. This Web site also has some good stuff, including a little audio.

Basically, Baseball Talk played large versions of 1989 Topps baseball cards. There were clear little discs on the back that contained audio of Don Drysdale, Joe Torre and Mel Allen, all who narrated little stories about current stars, all-time greats or historic games.

My machine doesn't work anymore - it's headed to the trash after I finish writing. I really wish I could listen to these one more time. They were cheesy, yet catchy.

The cards came in sets of four. I tried to collect all the Red Sox, which didn't leave me with too many Phillies - just a Steve Carlton from his Cardinal days. Among the Red Sox were the 1986 World Series Game 6, Jim Rice, Wade Boggs, Roger Clemens and Mike Greenwell.

For some reason I associate memories of this toy with my Dad's sister, who died when she was 30. I can't remember if she bought me the whole kit or just a pack of cards. Probably the whole kit.

I was only 13 when Aunt Ginny died of scleroderma, but I have two other baseball memories of her: She got us tickets to Yankee Stadium in 1989 - the first time I saw the Red Sox play there. We sat behind home plate, and someone fell on the backstop screen.

And, I remember everyone gathered at our house after her funeral. The 1990 World Series was on. Memories are weird sometimes.

Oh well, off to see the family. The long drive ahead would be much better if this machine worked so we could hear all about Willie McGee's exploits again.


Breaking news: There's a report that the Phillies have signed a free agent pitcher! Don't get too excited, it's just minor league journeyman Mike Koplove. David Murphy may have built expectations a little too high, sort of proclaiming him 2009's Chad Durbin, but I like the acquisition. I don't know why Koplove has fallen off the map in recent years because his major league numbers - while not dominant - are pretty good. Plus, he's a local guy who spent all of last year in the minors, so he won't complain about waiting his turn in AAA if there's a roster jam at the beginning of the season.

Werth needs only 482 home runs to reach Thome, Mantle

Bright side: The Phillies managed to split their four-game series against the Cubs. They won today, 5-3.

Not-as-bright side: They could have easily swept this series. But no more dwelling on that. Let's get to the good stuff.

Jayson Werth bashed the Cubbies again, driving in three runs and hitting another home run. Jamie Moyer continues to pitch unbelievable for a 45-year-old. And, oh yeah, maybe the Phillies were helped out just a little bit by the fact that Carlos Zambrano was scratched to save his "tired" arm for a few more days.

Now it's on to Washington, where the Nationals have won six in a row. I bet the Phils can cool them off.

The Phillies did pick up a game on the Mets last night, as Aaron Heilman walked in the winning run against the Marlins. But today, the Fish failed again, leaving Philadelphia one game behind New York in the standings.

Derrek Lee: Every time I hear his name, I wonder how his daughter is doing. After a quick search, I found out that she was misdiagnosed and will maintain her vision. I'm glad to hear it.

September call-ups: J.A. Happ, Greg Golson and Lou Marson will be joining the big-league club. Oh yeah, and Adam Eaton, too. Boo.

ANTM: Tom McCarthy was doing promos for the upcoming TV season, as the game was on the CW this afternoon. Gossip Girl, 90210, Tyra. Gary Matthews then chimed in.

Sarge: I like that show.

T-Mac: What, America's Next Top Model?

Sarge: Oh yeah.

And yes, he said it exactly how you're imagining it.

Red Sox: Former Phils Gavin Floyd and Jim Thome played a big part in the White Sox beating the Red Sox 4-2 today. And in honor of Thome hitting his 536th career homer, tying him with Mickey Mantle for 14th place on the all-time home run list, I thought it was only appropriate to revisit the 1995 cover of the Indians magazine. I have nothing to say about this picture - I think the snazzy white ensemble and footwear say it all.

The Red Sox open a series against the Orioles on Monday. The O's did the Sox no favors this weekend, as they were swept by the Rays, leaving Boston 5.5 games out of first. The Sox continue to lead the Wild Card by 2.5 games.

No word, that I can find anyway, on their call-ups. Sounds like they could use the reinforcements, though. In addition to half the team being on the DL, the other half had food poisoning this weekend. Blech.

Road trip

I have to hit the road for a two-week business trip today. Christine will keep the blog running. But I figured the occasion merits a look at my first trip to Fenway some 20 years ago.

By 1988, my Yankee-loving family had realized my Red Sox fandom wasn't a fad and offered to take me to Fenway. We got bleacher seat tickets for the Aug. 17 game against the Mariners.

The 1988 Red Sox were a sorry lot for a division winner. John McNamara, one of the goats from 1986, was fired mid-season and replaced by Joe Morgan (no, not the Hall of Fame second baseman who now poorly broadcasts for ESPN). When we saw them, Morgan's Magic hadn't yet propelled them to first, but they were on their way, just two games out.

Their big stars were Roger Clemens, Wade Boggs, old-timer Dwight Evans and newly acquired Lee Smith. Ellis Burks and Mike Greenwell were up and coming for a team that barely won the AL East with an 89-74 record before getting swept by the A's in the division series.

Their opponents that night were even sorrier: the eventual 68-93 Seattle Mariners. Things were so bad for that squad that former Sox Rey Quinones was considered one of their five stars despite a .284 on base percentage. They did have not-yet former ESPN broadcaster Harold Reynolds leading the charge.

That night featured Billy Swift vs. Bruce Hurst. The Sox won 7-2 in a rain-delayed game. No Red Sox really stood out at the plate, but five (Marty Barrett, Evans, Greenwell, Jody Reed and Rich Gedman) had two hits.

Geddy homered. Homering for the M's was Steve Balboni. My sister embarrassingly cheered because he used to be a Yankee.

I forget when it rained, but it was a lengthy delay. My folks were willing to wait it out even after someone offered to adopt me out of the Yankee family. He had a pool. I always liked that memory, but now it seems a little creepy. I recently learned he was drunk. What did I know, I was 11.

The game resumed, and I was looking forward to seeing the big man in the bullpen finish it off, but we left in the 8th because my parents thought the subway closed at midnight or something. In later years I learned that the trains do close rather early in Boston, but that they keep them open on game nights.

Prices: $1.50 for the scorecard; $5 for bleacher tickets; $14 for box seats.

SoxandPhils connections: A 23-year-old Mike Jackson pitched 1 1/3 innings for the Mariners. ... An ad for the Rolaids Relief Award congratulates the 1987 NL winner Steve Bedrosian. ... Best of all is this beer ad featuring Greg "The Bull" Luzinski, who doesn't like ewers for some reason. It's such a slice of '80s cheese. Christine joked that one day this could be Pat Burrell, but then we decided they don't do beer ads like this anymore.

Today's game: Even though I'm on the road, Christine is going tonight. She'll post tomorrow, but maybe not with the same amount of detail as I write (I told her she doesn't have to keep a scorecard).

One more day

Tomorrow we'll learn who is an All-Star and who got snubbed. For the Phillies, we know Chase Utley will be starting, and Pat Burrell, Brad Lidge and Cole Hamels have a good chance of joining him. If it were up to SoxandPhils, and we could select only one of the three, we'd give Pat the Bat his first selection. Who knows if he'll ever get another shot like this one.

For the Red Sox, looks like David Ortiz will be elected but won't play because of injury. Manny Ramirez will also be elected, but he hasn't said yet he won't play. Kevin Youkilis should hold on to win the ballot; Dustin Pedroia's lead is tenuous. Jonathan Papelbon is the only pitcher who warrants consideration. J.D. Drew deserves it more than Manny, but he'll get crowded out, especially with so many Red Sox in contention. Same holds true for Jon Lester. So I predict at least Manny, Papi, Papelon and Youk will be named to the squad, maybe more if the numbers shake out.

{There is only one guaranteed Red Sox to be at the game - Terry Francona. Don't count your all-star ballots before they're hatched.}

But no matter what happens, don't take it all too seriously. An All-Star for one team can become something else for another team a decade later ...

Still some games before the All-Star break: Good wins yesterday against two irrelevant New York teams: The Red Sox beat the Yankees 6-4, and the Phillies won in their last-at bat, 3-2 over the Mets.

Chad Durbin is getting all of the attention for his shutdown relief of J.A. Happ and keeping the Phillies in the game until Johan Santana exited. Speaking of the savior, he's now 0-4 in his last six starts despite a 2.48 ERA. Since Johan's last win (June 1), the Twins, the team he left for dead, is 19-11. Lester, the guy the Red Sox wouldn't give up to get Johan, is 4-0 since then. I wonder who's happy with how things worked out?

We'll be back tomorrow with our normal Sunday game-day Phillies post.

More from '95

Besides pictures of their juiced-up sluggers, the Red Sox 1995 yearbook tried to get a little artsy with close-up shots showcasing players' personalities. Here are a few.

In 1995, Mike Greenwell would have his last season as a full-time player. In case you didn't know, he was nicknamed Gator. (And that's an alligator with jaws agape, ready to chomp.)


Next we have Tim Naehring, a true fan favorite and Dirt Dog before there was such a thing. He's obviously so embarrassed by the concept of this yearbook that he can't stop laughing long enough to open his eyes.


Next, there's then-Sox, future-Phil Rheal Cormier. He must have been hungry. Or maybe he's sending a suggestion to the future for Jonathan Papelbon: Do this the next time you think about opening your mouth.


Finally, what's a yearbook without a look at the farm. The first two aren't bad at all: Nomar Garciaparra and Trot Nixon. There are a few clunkers like would be found in any farm system: Michael Coleman, Marc Lewis and Donnie Sadler. But then there's Carl Pavano, who needs to develop a breaking pitch, according to his scouting report. I wonder what Yankees fans would add to that critique.


Back to 2008: Good performances last night by both our teams' lefty aces over division rivals. Jon Lester took care of the Yankees 7-0, prompting Joe Girardi to hold a closed-door meeting on the eve of George Steinbrenner's birthday. Cole Hamels - soon to be a two-time All-Star? - won 4-1, finishing a sweep of the Braves.

This afternoon, Josh Beckett is already losing in New York, where the major sports event of the day has been completed - Joey Chestnut beat Takeru Kobayashi in the first-ever dog-off. Tonight, the Phillies start a series against the Mets with the pitcher who was going to save the world for the Mets, Johan Santana, facing J.A. Happ. Happ-hazard is making his 2008 debut for the demoted Brett Myers.

We're going to pump [clap] you up!

The last time I wrote about the stuff I found in my parents' attic, I poked fun at the Phillies marketing in the 1990s. The Red Sox also had a gimmick I'm sure they'd like to forget. It's plastered all over the team's 1995 yearbook, which prominently features Mo Vaughn and Jose Canseco wearing wife beaters. The inside cover has the two sluggers back-to-back, flexing their 24-inch pythons like the Hulkster with the inspirational words "get pumped for '95" above them.


This was three years before the synthetic home run chase between Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa; six years before Barry Bonds took cheating to another low; and more than a decade before George Mitchell would name names. But I'm still surprised they had the restraint not to do a cross-promotion between these two pure & natural! hitters and this product advertisement found a few pages later:


Roger Clemens was on that squad, too. I bet the team asked him to break out a Speedo and pose with Deb, to which he just stared back, real menacing. I'm sure in his world, the meaner you look, the more innocent you are.


These pictures ruin some of the memories of a great year in which the Sox surprisingly won the division. It was a nice blend of veterans, cast-offs and a few homegrown stars. Tim Wakefield, plucked off the scrap heap, won 16 games, starting a long tenure for a classy Red Sox champion. Mo won the MVP, although many thought either teammate John Valentin or Cleveland's Albert Belle was more deserving. And midseason acquisition Rick Aguilera saved 20 games down the stretch.

It wasn't a great team and probably deserved getting swept by Cleveland, but it was more fun then, knowing what we know now about these players.

Over the weekend, I’ll post some more gems from the yearbook.

Something I never knew before: While refreshing my '95 memories, I took a look at the Sox draft picks that year. In a late round, they took a flier on some high school kid from California whom they probably know wouldn't sign because he was headed to the University of Miami. The players? Pat Burrell, who would be selected No. 1 by the Phillies in 1998 as atonement for J.D. Drew, who now patrols RF for the Red Sox.

Can you imagine if Burrell had signed with the Sox? Would that mean no Manny Ramirez and no championships? Or would it mean that he would have stayed at first and replaced Mo? Either way, I'm sure the Fenway Faithful (what happened to that term? Oh yeah, pink hats and Red Sox Nation) would have welcomed him just as well as Phillies fans did earlier in his career.

Administrative notes: Remember the Doug Glanville jerseys we spotted last month? They made straightcashhomey.net. Thanks for posting it, guys. ... There probably won't be an update tonight as the Phillies wrap up their set with the Braves and the Red Sox get a break in the schedule against the Yankees. We have family in town for the holiday.

The first time the Sox visited Philly ...

This starts an occasional series where I look at some of the amusing baseball paraphernalia I salvaged from my parents' attic.

There seemed to be fewer Red Sox fans in the stands at Citizens Bank Park last week. Perhaps the Phillies strategy of selling Red Sox tickets only to those who bought multi-game packs worked. But back in 1998, the Phillies made no bones about marketing to Red Sox fans. Heck, they even promoted Red Sox players for the series. Look at this:

That's not a program from Fenway; it's the official Phillies magazine I bought at Veterans Stadium. Besides the cover story on Pedro Martinez, there's a nice story on Terry Francona. (He, unlike Pedro, was a Phillie then.) There's also a story about the young, upcoming Bobby Abreu and the new Phillies Web page, Phanland. They have a screen shot of it, and one of the headlines is that the Phils are resuming talks with J.D. Drew. I wonder how that turned out.

I have this program because not only was it Boston's first trip to Philly for interleague play, it was the first time Christine and I went to a major league game together. It was a bad game, as you can see I got bored with keeping score. Stupid Steve Avery.

Our outfield that night: Troy O'Leary, Darren Lewis and Darren Bragg. Kevin Jordan hit cleanup for the Phillies. Their double play combo was Mark Lewis and Desi Relaford.

Surely the Phillies were looking to better things ahead, like when their farm system would start developing MVP-caliber talent, such as the legendary reliever Kyle Kawabata. And Brandon Duckworth, whose claim to fame was being part of the Billy Wagner trade. Oh, and getting quacked at on his Baseball-Reference page. And when he was stinking up the joint for the Phillies, we called him Mr. Stinkypants. The Phillies did have a real grim, determined-looking prospect in the system at that time. His name? Jimmy Rollins.


I hope you enjoyed this. The Phillies are off, and the Sox start a series with the Diamondbacks. I'm working an all-nighter and may not be able to update. Hopefully the Sox can take care of business.