I have a problem.

I. Hate. Julio. Lugo.

I hate the stupid sub-.300 OBP he had last year. I hate the stupid hitting streak he’s on right now, because I know he’s just doing it to be even more of a $%@#$ later. I hate his enormous bug-eyes that stare so widely AND YET STILL MISS THE BALL. I hate that he wears his belt higher than Steve Urkel. I hate that he’s owned in 56% of ESPN fantasy leagues—who are you people and who is your leader??

Because of Julio Lugo, I am even starting to hate the song “Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard,” which makes me hate him even more, because that’s a good $#@%* song, goddammit.

I hate that Lugo’s six errors are nearly TWO-THIRDS of Boston’s 10 team errors. I hate that he would have even more errors if the official scorer were allowed to assume EVEN THE MOST BASIC AND ELEMENTARY LITTLE-LEAGUE LEVEL DOUBLE PLAYS. I hate that even when he doesn’t make an error, he still finds a way to suck. I even hate the one thing about him that doesn’t technically suck—his speed on the basepaths—because that speed masks the true depths of his sucktitude in the batter’s box.

Is this measured, or rational, or fair? No, no, and hell no. But then, hatred so rarely is.

So most of all, I hate that Theo Epstein offered him way more money than any other GM was even imagining offering him, so that now, not only are we paying through the nose for this @#$*%!, we can find no one else to take him off our hands. The $26 million remaining on the deal would be better spent stuffed directly into owner John Henry’s 164-foot yacht, the Iroquois, and burned as fuel.

And of course, I hate that Julio Lugo is blocking fuzzy-cheeked Jed Lowrie. Did you know that Lowrie has 5 RBI in 26 plate appearances, while Lugo has 5 ribbies in 86 plate appearances? Typical. More errors than runs batted in! And five GIDPs too! Even with the speed! And I laugh—LAUGH!—at the fact that in the ninth inning of of a recent game, with the Sox up by a run and Manny Ramirez out of the game, Terry Francona moved Lugo to left field and Lowrie over to shortstop as a defensive replacement.

But it is not happy, trilling laughter. No, it is cold, cynical laughter. Because, as I was forced to conclude in this week’s Metro column, Julio Lugo’s below-average play and above-average pay likely mean that Jed Lowrie’s days in Boston are numbered. Not only is the entire left side of Boston’s infield locked up through 2010, Jed Lowrie may not be a natural shortstop anyway, as he lacks some of the necessary “first-step quickness” (in the words of Baseball Prospectus). However, he has worked hard to cut down on his error rate and his throws are generally solid, so his comparative lack of range may not be immediately apparent. This leads me to conclude that, at short, the most that could be hoped for is the defensive capability of Derek Jeter, who has very sure hands but, like that other good-looking Derek, one Mr. Zoolander, “can’t go left.” Thus, another team may be happy to take Lowrie and stick him at second base. As for the possibility, explored by Coley at MLB Trade Rumors last weekend, that Boston would keep him and use him as a super-utility guy? It’s possible, but I think it’s unlikely as long as he has even greater value to the team as trade-bait.

But Red Sox fans, take heart. Even if we are stuck with Julio Lugo through 2010, we do have another, potentially even better shortstop prospect waiting in the wings. Right now, he’s down at Greenville, Boston’s single A affiliate. Oscar Tejada, writes Baseball Prospectus, is a “toolsy Dominican” who was “impressive” last year, in his debut season for the Gulf Coast League, “showcasing gap power, good speed, excellent range, and a cannon for an arm.” He’s still “at least three to four years away,” but he’s also “brimming with potential.” Some additional info:

The Good: Tejeda has all of the tools necessary to be a star-level shortstop. He’s a good hitter with a line-drive stroke who has the frame and the bat speed to develop into some power. Defensively, he has excellent range, crisp actions and a strong arm.
The Bad: Not even 18 yet, Tejeda is still rough around the edges in many aspects. He still hasn’t seen enough breaking balls to make the proper adjustments to them, and he needs to improve in the little parts of the game, like bunting and baserunning. Like many young, flashy shortstops, he’s prone to errors when trying to make spectacular plays.
Perfect World Projection: A starting shortstop with the ability to create runs at the plate, and prevent them in the field.
Timetable: Tejeda’s youth and inexperience leaves him very far from his potential. While it seems like he’s ready for a full-season assignment, he’ll be only 18 for all of 2008, and there might be a need for patience.

I hope Oscar Tejada comes along well. I hope he’s ready to go by spring training in 2011. And I hope to God that I still have eyes to see him by then, because if I’m stuck watching Julio Cesar Lugo for the next three full seasons, I may actually claw them out.

For this week’s Metro column, I felt obligated to talk about David Ortiz’s 3-for-43 slump to start the year. It was all anyone in Boston was talking about—radio call-in shows, sports TV, newspaper inches. Nothing was off-limits—people were talking about his weight, his batting stance, his knees, his schedule, his mindset. But I didn’t really want to chime in. I felt that this particular zone had been flooded. Plus, slumps happen. You know? I’m sure David will find a way to crank 30 jacks and get on base and OPS at or near 1.000 before the year is out. He’s David Orfreakingtiz! He’s only 32! The man they call Big Papi! Every time he smiles, a rainbow appears, an unseen band strikes up a John Philip Sousa march, and an angel gets its wings! He’ll be fine! He’ll be more than fine! But I didn’t want to write one of those “everyone take a chill pill, man” columns, because although they are sometimes necessary, they leave a patronizing aftertaste.

Then, on Monday, Coley wrote this post on slow starters and what they’re saying, and I read the following:

Jason Giambi (.107, 2 HR, 4 RBI) “If I’ve been frustrated by anything, it’s that I feel so good and I’m hitting the ball hard and I had nothing to show for it.”

That quote triggered something in my brain. You know how in movies, someone says something revealing and then the heroine gets a sort of spaced-out look on her face as she suddenly remembers all this other relevant information in flashback/voiceover mode? Like this:

Well, Giambi’s comment triggered much the same reaction in yours truly. And just as Scarlett hears, “Tara….Tara!….the red earth of TARA,” I suddenly remembered reading the following quotation about Ortiz:

“He’s hitting some balls hard right at people,” said Red Sox pitching coach Dave Magadan. “He hasn’t had a whole lot of balls fall in for him.”

The pieces all fell into place. Inside my brain, I heard, “BABIP….BABIP!….It’s got to be his BABIP!”

I cruised on over to David’s page on The Hardball Times, and sure enough, going into Monday night’s game, his BABIP was a miniscule .063. He’d hit a few more grounders than he usually does, and had a few more K’s, but given the small sample size we were dealing with, those differences were tiny compared with his jaw-droppingly low BABIP. I felt compelled to look for more low BABIPs, and the search quickly proved fruitful. Giambi’s BABIP was even smaller (.043 at the time). A lot of the Detroit Tigers had low BABIP’s, too. And in a particularly sad twist of fate, Alfonso Soriano had a depressed BABIP when Sun-Times columnist Greg Couch called him selfish compared with newcomer Kosuke Fukudome. Fukudome, said Couch, plays the game “the right way.” Fukudome’s BABIP? An unsustainably high .385 heading into last night. Nice one, Greg.

It seemed like the baseball world was overdue for a crash course in BABIP, so I rapped out the column and sent it in post-haste.

The very next day, while I was at the gym, I was watching NESN (the New England Sports Network, which broadcasts nearly all the Bruins and Red Sox games). Globe columnist Bob Ryan has a talk show on the network called Globe 10.0, and I listened in horror when he speculated that maybe there was something wrong with Papi’s eyesight—”You remember,” he said to his guest [I’m paraphrasing slightly], “What happened when Jim Rice lost his eyesight. That’s not the first thing people think of when a player’s in a slump, but you know, it could be…” I actually felt Red Sox Nation shudder at the very idea.

Moreover, I then read that Papi himself seemed to think he had some sort of mental problem (”I know exactly what I’m doing wrong. Everything is right here,” he told reporters while pointing to his head). Sure, you’re hitting the ball right at people, maybe start getting irate at a few borderline calls, and then you start doubting yourself, which leads to pressing and swinging at pitches out of the zone. In that case, it makes sense to sit the guy before he does himself any more damage, as Terry Francona did earlier this week. But the slump didn’t start in Big Papi’s head. And it’s not going to end there.

Finally, I think it’s really sad that Miguel Cabrera, another slow starter with a low BABIP, said, “I feel bad. I feel like everybody’s behind me, laughing.” And the more I thought about it, the sadder it seemed.

Outside of maybe a few fantasy baseball bloggers, no one knew about the BABIP situation—not the media, not the sluggers themselves, not even the managers and front offices. And now real people were suffering because of it! Bob Ryan has perhaps just convinced thousands of viewers that David Americo Ortiz will pull a Jim Rice on us (as if we didn’t have Lasik now, anyway) and have his last 20-homer season at 33. David himself thinks he’s mental. And poor little Miguel Cabrera thinks we’re all laughing at him! This cannot be.

BABIP! Spread the word and put power back in the hands of the people. Peace.

I feel that Tuesday often gets lost in the workweek shuffle. There’s Monday, which gets a lot of attention for being first. There’s Wednesday, which gets to be “Hump Day.” Thursday is often “thirsty,” or at least gets a sort of half-credit for being almost Friday. And then there’s Friday itself, which, when it rolls around, we’re all so thankful for. But where does poor Tuesday come in? The shock of Monday has worn off, but the ray of hope that Wednesday offers hasn’t yet broken through the gloom. Well, I’ve decided Tuesday needs more love. And on UmpBump, love = links. So let’s get to ‘em. And let’s do it lineup-style!

Leading off, my own Metro Column: A Few Reasons Why Baseball Is Awesome. Need I say more?

Batting second, the June amateur draft is just two months away and The Baseball Analysts are getting ready with a must-read preview series.

Third, Baseball Musings points out that Randy Johnson’s loss last night was unearned. Literally—all the runs the Giants managed came as a result of errors by the D-Backs.

Batting cleanup, Beyond the Box Score looks at some hot starts (and a few slow ones) and identifies which ones are flukes.

Fifth—this one’s for all you Milwaukee Brewers fans. Take heart! There is one closer who may be scarier to have in your bullpen than Eric Smelly Gagne (as my Red Sox-loving roommate still calls him, and will ever call him): Joe Borowski. Bugs and Cranks has the hilarious, heartbreaking rant.  (VegasWatch also chimes in, pointing out that thanks largely to Borowski, the Tigers aren’t in quite as deep a hole as it seems.)

Sixth, Joe Posnanski has a nice post about airport security lines. (And if that’s not baseball-related enough for you, then you can read this one about how much he loves Brian Bannister’s slow-ass fastball.)

Seventh,  this Marlins fan has started Florida Marlins Finances to prove it to the management that they are profitable, dammit, whether they like it or not and with or without that new, taxpayer-funded stadium they want.

Eighth, via River Ave Blues: the Red Sox and New York face off again tomorrow and the first pitch will be thrown from space. (Side note: doesn’t it seem weird that the Sox and Yanks are playing each other again already? And that the Brewers and the Reds will also be facing each other for the second time later this week? And that the White Sox and the Tigers have already faced each other twice? And that the Rays have also faced the Yankees and the Orioles twice? Divisional face-offs are all well and good, but the scheduler may have taken it a bit far this April.)

And batting ninth, the pitcher,  Rumors and Rants, who brings us more good news about Randy Johnson: the mullet (pictured above) is back! It is just as I hoped it would be!

And as a sort of pinch hitter, I have to give a shoutout to Tim Dierkes at MLB Trade Rumors for giving me credit for my foresight on Kyle Snyder, who has cleared waivers and accepted an assignment to Boston’s AAA affiliate, the Paw Sox. There were doubters at the time! But I was right! And as regular readers of UmpBump know, there’s few things Sarah Green loves more in life than being proven right (coffee, my as-yet-unborn children…let’s see…what else? Nope, I think that basically covers it).

It appears that yes, great minds do think alike. Or perhaps it’s just that when pitchers and catchers report on Valentine’s Day, the true seamhead can’t help but make the obvious connection.

At any rate, hot of the heels of Nick’s post on the subject, I submit for your approval today’s Boston Metro Column: Feeling the Springtime Butterflies. Looking at the AL East as a whole, there’s plenty of reasons for Red Sox fans to be all of a-twitter about their team today.

Random note: I can’t tell you how refreshing it feels to go back to writing columns about baseball. As Madonna put it so well:

I made it through the wilderness
Somehow I made it through
Didnt know how lost I was
Until I found you

I was beat– incomplete
I’d been had, I was sad and blue
But you made me feel
Yeah, you made me feel
Shiny and new

Here’s to feeling shiny and new! Thanks, baseball!

(And here’s to buying cute Red Sox tees with hearts on them.)

In this week’s Metro column, I note the ignominious end of Roger Clemens’ storied career. A virtuosic performance has worthy of the big screen has rapidly degenerated into a tawdry television drama. Two thumbs way down.

And though much ink and many pixels have been devoted to whether or not Clemens used steroids, whether he “seems guilty,” the PR of filing a lawsuit, what that tape was all about, and how Andy Pettitte must feel about all of this, it’s basically all been speculation. Leave it to Baseball Prospectus to actually look at the particulars of his lawsuit.

This is the article I’ve been waiting to read. After all, the Mitchell Report only had teeth because of the BALCO trial. By filing a lawsuit, could Roger Clemens be opening up a whole new can of worms? I suppose that depends on the particulars of the case. From BP writer Derek Jacques:

A claim of defamation (usually broken down into slander for spoken statements and libel for statements made in writing) accuses someone of saying or writing something untruthful that is then “published” to a third party, for the purpose of injuring the reputation of the person making the claim. Because a statement can’t be defamatory if it’s true, the truth of the allegations McNamee made against Clemens is the main issue of the suit. The question is simply whether or not McNamee injected Clemens with steroids and HGH in 1998, 2000, and 2001.

[…]

Defamation is a notoriously hard case to prove. In this situation, the allegations are all about the actions of two men alone in a room together with no other witnesses, and likely no physical or documentary evidence to connect or divorce them from what McNamee says they were doing. Clemens will face an uphill climb making his case, both because he bears the burden of proof and because he has to prove a negative—that an event that McNamee doesn’t tie to a specific date and time didn’t happen.

Clemens lamented during his 60 Minutes interview that people were treating him as “guilty before innocent,” instead of innocent until proven guilty. Ironically, filing this lawsuit puts the burden of proof right where he didn’t want it: on him.

And for those who were hoping that the Mitchell Report would close the door on the steroids era and let our beloved sport heal, the Clemens lawsuit effectively crushes those dreams:

Before this matter reaches trial, there would likely be months, perhaps years, of preparation, discovery, and depositions. If you give skilled litigators enough time to dig through someone’s life and financial records, all sorts of interesting and unexpected things can happen.

In other words, yes, the seal has been broken on a new can of worms. The only remaining question: is it a can of harmless earthworms, a can of annoying ringworms, or a can of fearsome Mongolian Death Worms?

It’s Hall of Fame Week at Umpbump. We’ll be taking a look at the guys on the ballot and giving you our take on who does and doesn’t belong in Cooperstown. Making his 14th appearance on the HOF ballot: Jim Rice, one of the most dominant hitters of any 10-year period. But did his career have the longevity to get him the brass plaque?

I know that Jim Rice’s career numbers make him a borderline candidate for the Hall of Fame. I know that, if selected, those numbers would put him in the bottom quartile. But you know what? Someone has to be. We can’t all be valedictorians. We can’t all win gold medals. We can’t all date Angelina Jolie. Some of us have to be in the bottom half of the class. Someone has to win the bronze. Someone has to end up with Jennifer Aniston. Why not Jim Rice?

Because although Jim Rice’s 16 years in the majors are on the short side for the Hall, Jim Ed’s fast rise, complete dominance during his prime, and durability for most of those years should be enough to make up for that. No, he did not manage to hang on through his late 30s, and thus could not pad his career offensive numbers like so many other HOFers. And yet, if I may be forgiven for quoting my own article from last week’s Boston Metro:

In 1975, he was one of many glorious Red Sox rookies and finished third in MVP voting and second in the Rookie of the Year tally. In ’77, ’78 and ’79, he was in his prime. He hit more than 35 homers in each of those three years, while also collecting over 200 hits — the only major-league player to ever accomplish that feat.

Six times did Rice finished in the top five in the MVP balloting. Eight times was Rice elected an All-Star. And perhaps most impressive to me, twice did Rice break his bat on a checked swing alone. An ash bat. In the pre-steroids era. Yes, Rice had a temper, but so did many other Hall of Famers. In Rice’s defense, it can’t have been easy working for a deeply racist organization—an organization that was the last major league club to integrate and which, for season after season, would only field one African American player at a time. Add the fact that Boston is a tough media town, and you have a recipe for surliness. There’s the famous incident in which he strode into the stands at Yankee stadium to get his hat back from the impertinent fan who had to foolishly swiped it. But he also entered the stands on another, less noted occasion: in Fenway, when a child had been struck by a foul ball. He carried the boy into the clubhouse for treatment.

And for those who say that Rice had no speed? In 1975, his rookie season, he led the team in steals. Sure, he only had 10—but then, the Red Sox organization has never been known for encouraging the stolen base. But to accuse him of no speed? In 1978, he led the majors in triples. During the same annus mirabilis, he also led baseball in homers and RBI—and he’s the only player to ever lead baseball in triples, homers, and RBI. That year also made him one of only a handful of players to collect 400 total bases in a season—putting him in the company of Joe DiMaggio and Hank Aaron. In fact, though Rice is now remembered as a lead-footed, perennially injured slugger, he was actually possessed of the rare ability to hit for both power and average. Though his lifetime batting average of .298 and 382 total home runs may not look like much on their own, look at them together and the impact is powerful: out of all retired players, Rice ranks tenth in terms of batting average and homers. Needless to say, those players (Hank Aaron, Jimmie Foxx, Lou Gehrig, Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, Stan Musial, Mel Ott, Babe Ruth, and Ted Williams) are all in the Hall of Fame.

As for his defense, which is either overlooked or derided, Paul White at BaseballLibrary has done a nice job of applying modern defensive stats to Rice’s glove, and showing that his numbers weren’t substantially different from his outfield contemporary, eight-time Gold Glove winner Dwight Evans:

Rice’s career range factor was 2.10, Evans’ was 2.11. Rice’s career total of Fielding Runs, as calculated by Total Baseball, was 71; Evans’ was 76. Rice threw out a baserunner once every 11.3 games he played in the outfield; Evans did so once every 13.7 games.

Sure, Evans made fewer errors and Fenway’s right field is more difficult than its left field. Nonetheless, let this put to rest the unfair accusation that Rice’s “poor defense” should keep him out of Cooperstown.

Many have looked at Rice’s numbers, and seen his name included on the ballot every year for fourteen years, and wondered why he continues to garner enough votes to stay on that ballot—while somehow always falling short of never the support needed to actually be elected. Are the same old codgers who may have gotten the rough side of Rice’s tongue now bearing grudges against the slugger-turned-hitting coach-turned-broadcaster? I hope not. Because no Red Sox has worn Jim Ed’s number 14 since he retired. In a decade that saw few excellent hitters and even fewer excellent power hitters, he was the best. He was the last man any pitcher wanted to see stepping into the batter’s box with the game on the line. And the Red Sox are just waiting for Cooperstown to call. And as soon as they do—if they do—number 14 will hang in right field forever.

In this week’s Metro column, I pay homage to Rookie of the Year Dustin Pedroia and blatantly salivate over the other young prospects coming up in Boston’s system. Just another day at the office, writing about the Red Sox.*

* Can’t we sign an aging slugger with a bad back, just to bring some normalcy back to Beantown?

And as you may have heard, there is only one October. There is also only one postseason, and unless we are sorely mistaken, the Fall Classic is equally singular. And folks, it starts today. Thus, in today’s Boston Metro column, I (naturally) pick the Red Sox to win the 2007 World Series.

I had originally set out to do the kind of point-by-point comparison I’d done before: Rox versus Sox in the various categories of pitching, defense, baserunning, and offense. But I was stymied at every turn once I tried to get beyond the barest of bones. The NL and the AL have so diverged, it’s hard to make any meaningful comparisons between them with traditional stats. And when you’re also trying to take into account the park factor with Coors Field and Fenway Park, well, it’s was an exercise in futility.

I guess we’ll just have to let baseball decide. May the best team win!

At this point, this week’s Boston Metro column seems a bit like piling on–after all, what else is there to do on the off-day after three consecutive losses but rip the manager? But I promise you, gentle UmpBump readers, that when I wrote it at the crack of dawn Tuesday morning, I was a lone voice crying in the wilderness.

Now, however, there’s a new mini-scandal in the Boston papers this morning concerning (who else?) Manny Ramirez. Yes, he actually talked to reporters! And though he said he would trade his individual records for another World Series in a heartbeat, this is the phrase that raised eyebrows today:

“It doesn’t happen, so who cares? There’s always next year. It’s not like it’s the end of the world.”

Asked about that comment this morning on WEEI, Boston’s sports talk station, Red Sox CEO Larry Lucchino said the only thing that made sense: that such “calmness” is what makes Manny Ramirez such a great hitter (and, I might add, such a dangerous hitter with two strikes against him).

I’d like to go one step further with that comment, however. In 2003, Red Sox Nation turned an offhand comment by Kevin Millar into the postseason slogan, “Cowboy up.” In 2004, it was Curt Schilling’s rhetorical question, “Why not us?” Clearly, what was lacking from the 2005 playoffs was a catchphrase. Let’s not make that mistake again, Sox fans. I submit for your approval, the 2007 postseason mantra, courtesy Manny Ramirez:

“Who cares?”

It’s bold. It’s shocking. It’s completely counterintuitive. I like it.

Last night I was sitting at home feeling lonely and sad, for there was no baseball on TV. Even worse, there won’t be any baseball tonight either. Also, it’s Wednesday of a four-day week, which for some reason always feels like the longest workday in the world. Thus it seems like as good a time as any to post links to three recent Boston Metro columns.

First up, today’s Metro column, which compares the Red Sox and the Indians in seven key categories. My ALCS prediction? I have to go with Boston. But I think it will take six games. Here’s something weird that I had to cut for space purposes: among pitchers who’ve worked at least 140 innings, Beckett ranks fourth in run support (after Verlander, Wang, and Pettite). Paul Byrd, Daisuke Matsuzaka, C.C. Sabathia, and Tim Wakefield all group nicely between the 9 and 15 spots on that list. But poor Fausto Carmona is starting to get left behind at 27th (supporting my contention below that with just a bit better luck, he could have mounted a legit challenge his own teammate Sabathia for the Cy). But Curt Schilling has been positively impoverished in terms of run support in this contract year. He ranks 41st out of 47 pitchers. Ouch. But who is dead last? Why, none other than Cleveland’s own Jake Westbrook. Poor guy. The energetic Indian offense scores only 3.61 runs when he’s on the mound. The only other pitcher with average run support under four runs per game is Kansas City’s Gil Meche. That stings.

Next, last week’s Metro GameDay column, which ran with the scorecards for Game 2 of the ALDS, which Matsuzaka started (and which Manny Ramirez finished in such style). I wondered which Daisuke would be showing up that night. Alas, it was Dice-K’s less effective twin, Dice-BB. Nevertheless, when I was researching the column, I was shocked by just how inconsistent (and flat-out weird) his numbers have been this year. Some weirdness that ended up on the cutting room floor: his numbers in domes are fantastic, yet he has an 0-4 record in domes.

And finally, for you Trekkies (or Trekkers, if you prefer) out there, I’m posting a fanciful GameDay column from the last week of the regular season. I call it, “Sox Entering Final Frontier.”

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