Musings from Roy F. Almania: Bleacher Bumblings, Billy Butler Blanked with Brimmed Bases, Boners of Papel Leave Boys in Blue Blue in Boston

This is "Musings From Roy F. Almania" where, from time to time, I loan my key to the House to my cousin from Joplin. He's a bit rough around the edges, but he can tear apart a John Deere engine and have it greased and back together 'fore supper's ready. And he knows a thing or two about Royals baseball. He begged me to let him post on last night's no-hitter tossed by Jon Lester of the Red Sox against Kansas City, but I convinced him otherwise, knowing that Seven would cover it. When he phoned at the conclusion of this evening's 2-1 loss, he was not to be denied again.

I ain't one to blame refs and umps and fans often. I don't much care for cursing, neither. I had cuss tonight's crew, though, when, on top of sleepy KC bats, the boys repeated history.

Like Seven said, Nolan Ryan last no-hitted the Royals. It was 1973, I'd just gotten out of the service, and, hell, cousin Banky wasn't even born yet. But that's another story.

Anyhow, the game after Ryan's no-hitter, the Royals managed but one lousy run, and lost 2-1. There was a couple instances to avoid such repetition tonight, and they was these: 1) Kansas City had a legitimate opportunity to score the game-tying run tonight, and they was forced to settle with a ground-rule double when Boston fans interfered with a ball in play in rightfield. I know we can't expect an ump to rule on it any different than they did, but it infuriated me. Like that Seven guy says, "Just sayin'."

The Royals also, like I mentioned, had one opportunity to zap this game alive, and that was young Billy Butler's at-bat in the eighth with the bases loaded. Now Billy came into the evening hitting .276 with 18 RBIs, and still that one lousy homerun. We know the kid can hit, but he's been cold, and so have the rest of the bats in blue. Something's got to change, and change quick-like.

That at-bat, though, is where I tip my hat to Red Sox skipper Terry Francona. Actually, I tip it to him for the entire half-inning. He handled the pitching situations with patience, and smarts, asking his closer to deliver four outs instead of three. Butler and Papelbon had never squared off, and the youngster got his spikes a bit stuck in the mud.

Kansas City has shown us that they can deliver pitching scenarios comparable to the one Francona and company put on display tonight. They have not shown us much of anything from the batter's box. I reckon it's time for Mr. Hillman to change something about the puny offensive outputs this club keeps offering before the decades of hitting droughts begin to wash away all the good we seen so far from this year's Royals. Detroit don't aim to stay in last, and the Twinkies, Tribe and Sox will eventually distance themselves from one another. It'd be nice to throw the Royals, with good pitching and better-than-average hitting, into that muck that is the Central.
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Self-Fellating Red Sox Post No. 1

I'm a little late with this, unlike my blindingly prescient scoop yesterday. My Red Sox played a game Sunday night and looked like the team everyone feared coming into the season. Since this team is woefully underrated and ignored by the mainstream press, I feel the need to break down this meaningless April game in excruciating detail for you, HoG reader.

Following his miserable start in Kansas City last week, Curt Schilling returned to form. No, not that form, more like the recent Schilling vintage--just replace the bloody sock with a hefty gut. He's an efficient pitcher who stays around the strike zone and knows how to retire hitters. No longer can he blow guys away with gas--much like his former teammate Unit he relies on breaking pitches to induce grounders. Schilling has worked on a change this spring--I was drinking a little too much to know if he used it much in this game.

All of the good guys' scoring came courtesy of Big Papi, who deposited two Vincente Padilla fastballs into the right field bleachers. Padilla is like a poor man's Schilling in that he throws a lot of strikes, but he's kind of dumb in that he throws them predictably and all the time. Joe Morgan made the point that he thinks he can still overpower hitters with his fastball, which in the case of guys like Papi he can not. But we're not here to discuss No. 8 starters on my fantasy team, so let's move on.

After looking off balance through much of the first week, Ortiz is certainly seeing the ball better. I still think he ought to play the field--he's no worse defensively than Youkilis and it would keep him more involved and focused. No one is talking about it, but this offense scares me a little bit right now, and not in the good way. They're relying way too much on Papi and Manny. Varitek has completely lost it, and the filler is substandard. Yook and Lowell are effective, similar in production to what the Sox used to get from Bill Mueller and a non-awful Varitek. But Crisp, Lugo and Pedroia are rough. It may work itself out--they did score 14 runs today against the Mariners. Lugo has promise in the leadoff spot, and Pedroia is just a kid. This may evolve into a typical Red Sox lineup, circa say 2003, but there is work to be done.

Most important to that evolution is J.D. Drew. Am I optimistic about that? Absolutely not, but one can dare to dream. Let's table the Drew dynamic for now, as I'm sure HoG Nation will be subjected to several million words on the topic throughout the summer.

Back to Sunday's game...all was well until Schilling handed the lead to the battered bullpen, where the wheels began to loosen from their lugnuts. Joel Pineiro (can the Administrator insert a few of those Hispanish accent marks in my toolbox please? Are they called tildes?) loaded the bases in less than 15 pitches--it's his signature skill--and the other Javy Lopez had to bail him out. The other Javy Lopez got an out and yielded a run, as he's not a dominant pitcher (the Sox actually sent him down today). Terry Francona has his club teetering on the edge of a cliff and a potential series sweep.

Everyone knows the saga of Papelbon's return to the back of the bullpen. It came with caveats about his workload, and an implicit promise not to overwork the kid. Yet here we were, on the eighth of April, and Francona summons young Pap into an impossible sitch: first and third, one out, a one-run lead and back-to-back All-Stars due to bat on a frigid evening.

All the fucker did was whiff Michael Young, pop up Teixiera, and blow away the last three Rangers of the night. Joe and John were painting the inside of the broadcast booth with semen over Pap's mind-blowing eruption of dominance. He looked filthy, mean and impolite.

And all of a sudden the Boston Red Sox looked like the team to beat in the American League. Beckett turned in his second straight lights-out game today in the home opener, and most of America will see Dice for the first time on Wednesday night. Of course nothing will be decided until the home-and-home serieses with New York in September (sorry Toronto), but the Yanks' pitching looks gruesome. I'm ready for summer.

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Ron Mexico Jerseys Don't Get You Free Wi-Fi in the ATL Airport

Mirroring the sentiments of my colleague, today holds no time for bullshit. Lucky for sports fans, every other day of the year does. In a brief layover en route to Cancun to attend a wedding of one of the future Mrs. Bankmeister's friends, I offer these kind sentiments.

As the always-lame National Bitch Association's season drags the holy term professional through another muddy season, hoops chatter orbits around the Mayor of Homoville. I really enjoy continuing to hear about what a "team" effort last year's 81-point outing was. And how it was totally better than Wilt's hundo. Thrilling. Seriously. With the draft around the corner (I think the four-letter network starts coverage tomorrow), NHL playoffs on the horizon, and Opening Day drawing nearer, I really hope that Dr. Douche Bag's L.A. crew makes a real streak out of these recent wins. 'Cause I be needin' me a Kobe fix like nothin' else.

In other entirely pounded-into-the-ground news, Papelbon won't start this season for the Beantowners. Who flippin' cares? Bullpens and rotations mix it up all season long every year. Make the announcement. Move on.

Tubby Smith will mark the third black man to take up residence in the state of Minnesota; New Mexico -- do they actually have sports in the Land of Enchantment -- got a new coach; Tony LaRussa agreed to help David Wells "seriously cut down on his alcohol consumption"; Royals' hurler Zach Greinke is legitimately crazy (I especially love the parts where he talks ad nauseum about Chipotle, his girlfriend's "special mouth", and Justin Timberlake); the Big XII remains represented in the tourney; and Matt Schaub is a Texan. Yes. A Texan.

For real. Nice work passing on Reggie Bush and Vince Young so that you could afford to pay David Carr more undeserved American dollars. That's some stellar business. Who's steering that ship? HoG has its ideas. Meantime, I'll have another tequila. Salud. Read more

AL East Preview: Believe It

No time for bullshit, I'm off to sunny Arizona for some Spring Training scouting and poon tang. But the big news yesterday was that the Boston Red Sox won the American League East with their decision to return Jon Papelbon to the closer role. Die, Yankees, die.

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