So the rending of garments, tearing of hair, beating of breasts etc has been in full swing in Boston today after last night’s 8-4 loss to the New York Yankees. It’s August and the Red Sox are 7.5 games out of first, and just barely clinging to a tenuous lead in the Wild Card race. Plus the two teams nipping at their heels — Tampa Bay and Texas — seem to be playing with newfound second-half vigor, whereas in Boston it feels like our local nine are staggering to the finish line with all the enthusiasm and verve of the Bataan Death Marchers.

The headlines today proclaim that Josh Beckett was “hammered,” “battered,” “knocked around,” etc. And true, he did give up 5 dingers. But — and this may sound slightly crazy, I know — I really don’t think he pitched that badly. After all, he gave up only 9 hits in 8 innings of work. He struck out 5, while walking 0. And, given the way the Red Sox were scoring runs this weekend, somehow the 4-run deficit never felt insurmountable. And indeed, it’s not as if Beckett labored through the outing — he threw 120 pitches, which is high, but not as high as you would have thought it would be if you’d known he was going to work 8 innings and allow 8 runs to score.

Suffice it to say, it was a curious outing. And I’m curious to know if I sound totally-nuts-suffering-from-Stockholm-Syndrome, or refreshingly sane amidst a sea of Sox fan sturm und drang.

Red Sox fans are already starting to panic about Josh Beckett. After a fine first start in which he allowed one run in 7 innings, he has gotten progressively worse, culminating in Thursday’s 13-0 whupping at the hands of the Rays in which Beckett allowed 7 earned runs in only 4.2 innings. His ERA now sits at a hefty 7.22.

But the good news is that there is nothing about Beckett’s peripherals to suggest that anything is out of the ordinary.  Aside from a slightly elevated walk rate, he looks like the same, near-ace level pitcher he has always been.  His groundball/flyball/line drive rates are all within career norms, his K/9 is a healthy 9.73 (career: 8.59), and his homer rate per 9 of 0.94 almost nails on the nose his career rate of 0.95.  Overall his FIP (fielding-independent pitching), which approximates what his ERA should be given league averages, is a mere 4.07.

The real culprit here is Beckett’s BABIP, which at .398 is the third worst in the Major Leagues, behind only Justin Verlander and Dana Eveland (both at .408).  In other words, Beckett has just had extremely bad luck with balls just happening to land where fielders weren’t.

Take a deep breath, he’ll be fine.

Via Deadspin and Center Field.

Mr. Hyde receives counsel from Jason Varitek and John Farrell

The big game is less than an hour away and the big question is, undoubtedly: which Josh Beckett will show up tonight?

As this NYT article points out, his fastball velocity is dangerously down:

His fastball averaged 93.9 miles an hour in 2008, but it decreased to 92.4 against the Angels and just 91.1 against the Rays, according to the Inside Edge scouting service. (In three postseason starts last year, he averaged 95.3.)

And as Tony Massarotti noted, putting his finger right on the crux of the issue after Beckett’s Game 2 start, this is making him entirely too hittable:

The most disturbing statistic from this game was that Beckett threw 93 pitches and managed just four swings-and-misses, only one of them coming on a fastball.

Let’s say that again.

Beckett threw 93 pitches and got one fastball by a Tampa hitter – a swinging strike by B.J. Upton in the first inning. Every other fastball was either put in play or fouled off.

The other swings-and-misses? Two were on curveballs, one on a cutter. And this was against a Tampa team that struck 1,224 times during the regular season, more than any AL club but the Oakland A’s (1,226).

And keep in mind that the A’s have Jack Cust.

Whether Beckett wants to admit publicly that he’s hurting or not, the radar gun doesn’t lie. Well, sometimes it does…but that’s not the point. The box score doesn’t lie, and last time the Rays managed 9 hits–three of them leaving the ballpark–and 8 runs off of Beckett in four and a third. Though he has struggled to notch first-pitch strikes this postseason (48% of batters, according to the same NYT article), he only walked 1 Ray last time out, while striking out 5. (He walked 4 and struck out 6 against the Angels, and also gave up 9 hits, including two longballs.)

Tonight, Beckett’s first challenge will be to keep the ball inside the ballpark. So far this postseason, he’s given up 5 homers in 9 and a third innings. A home run every other inning? That just won’t do.

The fate of the Rays if Dr. Beckett shows up

His second challenge will be to keep the ball close to, if not actually inside, the strike zone–especially on the first pitch. Throwing the first pitch for a strike will allow him to rely more on his breaking stuff, which he’ll have to do since he clearly can’t blow the heater by these Rays. I say “close to” the strike zone since everything “in” the zone seems to end up soaring into the stands or ricocheting around the outfield.

(Yes, these are basics–but if their offense has caught fire, that’s all Boston needs.)

His third challenge will be beating himself. Look, a big 28-year old Texan used to throwing 95 with movement just isn’t a finesse kind of guy. When he’s behind in the count–heck, when he’s ahead in the count and smelling blood in the water–he’ll want to reach back for the gas. But right now, the tank’s empty. He won’t like it, and he hasn’t had time to learn it, but until that muscle heals he’ll just have to throw something else.

So tonight, Josh Beckett, the Boston Red Sox, and nervous Fenway Faithful everywhere are all hoping the same thing: please, hardball gods, let Jason Varitek have a plan.

I noticed a subtlety in Jerry Crasnick’s write-up of last night’s absolutely inSANE game between the Red Sox and Rays—Game 2, in which the Rays tied the series 1-1 after pulling off a walk-off win in the 11th against Mike Timlin. (Why does Terry Francona bring in Timlin in extra innings anymore?? As soon as he comes in, I just know the game is over. I just know it. And the frat guys who live upstairs know it. And the waitress at Kelly’s Diner on the corner knows it. That guy from Sullivan Tire knows it. Mayor Menino knows it. My dog knows it. And, in fact, I suspect Mike Timlin knows it. Because all across New England, EVERYONE KNOWS THE GAME IS OVER WHEN MIKE TIMLIN COMES IN. I know he’s a lovely human being, and I know Terry Francona wants to show faith in his players, but come on. He’s shot. It’s over. Hand the ball to someone else. ANYONE ELSE. Even Paul Byrd! Even Tim Wakefield! At least with Wake, you have a 50-50 chance the pitch could float in for a strike.)

Writes Crasnick:

J.D. Drew, who had been plunked on his throwing shoulder by a 95 mph Grant Balfour fastball in the series opener, uncorked a weak throw up the third base line, and Perez scored easily to send the Rays into a celebratory frenzy.

“As soon as I drew my arm back to throw and follow through, I got that good charley horse from where I got drilled in the shoulder last night,” Drew said. “I didn’t have the best grip on the ball, so it kind of sailed a little bit to the right. I knew I had to be perfect. And when I released it, I knew it wasn’t.”

Drew normally has an enviable throwing arm, but the ball bounced twice on its way in. Still, Drew’s explanation can’t help but contrast starkly with this quote from Josh Beckett:

Beckett obliged reporters and answered questions at his locker after the game, but he was cryptic and tight-lipped about his performance and his health status. While the oblique injury appears to have transformed him from John Smoltz version 2.0 to Mr. Rocked-tober, he’s not about to use health problems as an excuse. And he still sounds like a guy who plans to pitch when his turn in the rotation comes around again in Game 6.

“I’m fine,” Beckett said at least four times during a two-minute interview. “It’s just frustrating when your team scores eight runs and you can’t win the [bleeping] game.”

I dunno, JD. Beckett’s badassery sounds pretty, well, badass, compared to your “explanation.” And Dustin MVPedroia played last October with a cracked hamate and we didn’t even know about it until later. And yet you’re blaming your weak-ass two-hopper on an HBP? That’s a thing that makes me go “hmm.”

But here, in the Boston Globe, is this conflicting report: “Drew didn’t make any excuses and didn’t lean on a recurring back problem or the throwing shoulder that got drilled by Grant Balfour in Game 1.”

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

It was a condensed fantasy week, what with the All Star break and all, but the results had a big impact on our standings—and our rosters.

Sarah: My Somerville Green Sox whupped Coley’s Crunkball All Stars, 7-4, mostly thanks to the pitching categories. My hurlers were no great shakes, but Coley’s got shellacked. Anyway, as a result of the win, I jumped from 6th to 4th place in our league—despite falling from 17 games behind to 20. I’ll take it. Hot: Andy Pettitte, Ryan Braun, Troy Glaus, James Loney, Matt Kemp. Not: Ian Kinsler (that has to be a first), Jacoby Ellsbury (le sigh), Brian Wilson.

Coley: I did indeed get smoked this week. But let’s not dwell on the past. Let’s look ahead to the future, which is bright after I made yet another blockbuster trade, this time sending Josh Hamilton and Jered Weaver to Alejandro for Josh Beckett, Carlos Lee and Conor Jackson. I love this trade. I dealt Hamilton at his peak value, only a couple of days after his home run derby heroics. Weaver, meanwhile, offers more hype than hope and will struggle to reach 100 K’s this season. In return I get an RBI machine (Lee), an OBP machine (Jackson) and an ace pitcher (Beckett). But that’s not all. Losing Hamilton and inheriting Lee and Jackson left me with an excess of corner outfielders, but no center fielder. So I turned around and traded Brandon Philips for Alfonso Soriano, who comes off the DL this week. That left me with a vacancy at second base, so I shifted Chone Figgins from third base to second. Now I have a hole at third. I could pick up Scott Rolen or Hank Blalock off the scrap heap. But, more than likely, I’ll make yet another blockbuster trade. Stay tuned! Hot: Mark Teixeira. Not: all of my starting pitchers.

Paul: It’s not too uncommon for me to get stopped on the streets of Manhattan by fans. Oh, not fans of UmpBump. Just, fans of ME. And a lot of them have asked, “Paul, you have so many fantasy baseball skills. How do you not let that go to your head? How can you possibly remain so grounded and approachable?” And every time, I’ll answer honestly and gently from atop my diamond-encrusted, gold-plated throne made from the only known remnants of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, telling them “I don’t know. I just don’t know”. And that humility isn’t going to change just because I won yet again this past week. Yes, Pirates in ‘08 (Bryan) were vanquished 11-1. David Wright led the offense, followed closely by Marcus Thames, Adam Dunn, and Matt Holliday, as all four had two homers a piece in this break-shortened week. And the pitching side was strong as well, with Justin Duchscherer, Scott Baker, Cliff Lee, C.C. Sabathia, and Ted Lilly all pitching well during their starts. At this rate, my modesty is REALLY going to be tested very soon. In fact, I think I’ll have to become the man I was destined to be – the most modestest organism (living, dead, or imagined) ever to have walked, swam, breathed, skipped, or frolicked on this planet or any other. I have enough confidence in myself to do this (PS: I hate myself). Hot: David Wright, Adam Dunn, Marcus Thames, C.C. Sabathia, Scott Baker. Not: Hiroki Kuroda, Shane Victorino, Geovany Soto.

Alejandro: A short week with lots of surprises. I don’t think the narrow 6-5-1 victory is reflective of how my team will perform in the second half; however, I’m not standing pat. I traded for Josh Hamilton (even though I think i broke the bank: Carlos Lee and Conor Jackson) to amp my RBI production. I gave up Josh Beckett too simply because he has been getting tagged for too many runs, no matter how many K’s he collects (though I should’ve checked Jered Weaver’s ERA before hitting the accept trade button). WIll my quest to get better RBI production be shot by giving away two hot hitters for the league-leader in RBI’s? We shall find out. Hot: Carlos Delgado, Aaron Rowand, Conor Jackson, Manny Parra, Billy Wagner, Vicente Padilla (way to go kid). Not: Josh Beckett, Mike Pelfrey, Tim Lincecum.

Standings (games behind):

1. Paul – ElDuquesInjuryReport ( – )
2. Scott – Utley’s Firm Quads ( 11.5 )
3. Alejandro – Center Field Stud ( 16 )
4. Sarah – Somerville Green Sox ( 20.5 )
5. Doug – Swamp Dragons ( 21.5 )
6. Kirk – Montefusco’s Revenge ( 23 )
7. Ania – Box89RowKKSeat14 ( 30 )
8. Larry – croutchyoldman ( 35.5 )
9. Bryan – Pirates in ‘08! ( 43.5 )
10. Coley – Crunkball All-Stars ( 44.5 )
11. Caitlin – caitlin grace ( 45 )
12. Sooze – freebase my balls ( 51 )

Only a few more hours left of Wednesday. A bit of reading to get you through the last hump of Hump Day:

Josh Beckett and Mike Lowell would like their ice cream machine back, please. (Bradford Files) And is lack of ice cream behind Beckett’s mysterious injuries this year? (Center Field)

What it’s like when Jose Canseco hits on your girlfriend. (Diamond Hoggers)

The six-man roster continues to loom. (Washington Post) Oh god, no.

Dusty Baker doesn’t like walks, so Joey Votto isn’t walking. (Vegas Watch) Moneyball haters, rejoice!

A backward glance at Nomomania (Sam Mellinger for the Kansas City Star)

“Jeter and others may be trying to get Paul O’Neill’s number RETIRED? Has the world gone mad?” (Joe Posnanski on behalf of LaTroy Hawkins)

Why are Kenji Johjima’s pitchers throwing him under the bus? (Detect-O-Vision)

Stephen Drew is a righthanded dude who bats left. (DbacksBuzz) After burning my right arm two weeks ago, I have discovered that I can do absolutely nothing with my left arm. At all. Tip o’ the hat to you, young Stephen.

And finally, earlier in the week, Coley wrote about Boston prospect Jed Lowrie’s potential as a super-utility guy for MLB Trade Rumors. Today, Joe Haggerty writes for the Boston Metro about why the Sox are grooming their prospects that way.

And as always, if you’re reading something we should be reading, let me know!

I recently returned from a week in the Bahamas. On a layover in Fort Lauderdale, I had the opportunity of perusing the airport newsstand. After I had finished carefully combing through the celebrity gossip rags and home decor mags in the “Women’s Interest” section, I turned my attention to the “Men’s Interest” section. (“Men’s Interest,” you see, is where they put all the sports magazines. As if men wouldn’t be interested in Angelina Jolie’s baby bump or six ways to clear clutter! Pshaw!)

Anywho, this is what I saw before me:

Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez, locked in a vicious coverboy smackdown! Refereed by Adriana Lima and her stern palm fronds of discipline!

On Men’s Health, Jeter, arms confidently folded, grins slyly at the camera. “Derek Jeter: How to rule in the clutch!” the magazine enthuses, as if Derek Jeter did not spend last October grounding into double plays. But no matter—Derek looks relaxed, assured, and like he gets an awful lot of sugar from an awful lot of females. The design of the shoot portrays Jeter as a man’s man, an approachable-but-cool Everyman that the reader could swap stories with over drinks. Plus, Men’s Health is sort of like FHM’s slightly older brother; still a scallywag at heart, he’s traded beer for whiskey and pizza for steak. It’s a good fit for the image Jeter wants to project. Well played.

On Men’s Vogue, by contrast, A-Rod squints nearsightedly into the lens, his lips in their trademark sullen pout. An aura of defensive self-consciousness pervades his hand-on-hip stance. Whereas Jeter seems to have won the respect and approval of the Men’s Health editors, Rodriguez seems to have angered the good people at Men’s Vogue, who taunt him with a “Clutch Time” slug over the headline. Here, there is no talk of “ruling” in the clutch. Here, there is only a loaded question: “Can Baseball’s Biggest Bet Redeem Himself—and the Game?” That is a tall order, especially for one who has a reputation of crumbling under pressure—as Men’s Vogue no doubt knows. As for A-Rod’s choice of magazine, the only glossy gayer than Men’s Vogue is The Advocate. Thus, it must come as no surprise to Alex or his handlers that A-Rod, having agreed to do the cover, appears in a pose, outfit, and lighting designed to call attention to his nether-goods. (Note how the eye immediately leaps to the bright white of his trousers, while the black shirt and socks recede into the background; note also how the aforementioned nether-goods are located almost exactly in the middle of the magazine cover. The unsuspecting reader is lured into checking out A-Rod’s package against his will!) One wonders why Rodriguez even agreed to do the shoot. But as usual with A-Rod, the more he struggles against his appearance-obsessed poseur image, the more it ensnares him.

However, despite this, the real winner of this magazine smackdown is not Derek Jeter. No, gentle readers. The real winner is Josh Beckett:

Aside from the slight irony of Beckett appearing next to a “RIP YOUR ABS” screamer, this cover shot is the clear winner. While Beckett’s facial hair looks as ridiculous as ever, and the artistic director seems to have oiled him up within an inch of his life, he gets some extra points for that Texas-sized Red Sox belt buckle and those well-displayed forearms. The lighting, angle, and pose cast Josh Beckett as a sort of super-hero. Plus, it’s worth noting that neither Men’s Vogue nor Men’s Health are quite as badass as Men’s Fitness (“Train to fight the MMA Way” versus “10 Ways to Look Great!” and “Lean and Mean: the New Slim Suits”). But the saving grace of Beckett’s cover is that despite wearing stonewashed jeans, a massive gold chain, and the aforementioned UFH, and despite looking like self-tanner exploded all over his entire body, and despite ending up so airbrushed that he looks a little bit like BeckettT1000 (sent back in time to destroy opposing hitters!), Josh Beckett seems here like he really doesn’t give rat’s derrière what you think of him. And though, of the three, he’s the one with the biggest claim to glory in the clutch (a 6-0 record with a 1.73 ERA in the postseason), Men’s Fitness doesn’t even approach such philosophical notions. Instead?

Ladies and gentlemen, the winnah and still champeen.