Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Well, that was pleasant. Good vibes all around.

The only guys who felt any pain last night were Jose Reyes (whose sternum had a rather unfortunate run-in with Tek’s giant knee in that pivotal out-at-the-plate in the fifth), Alay Soler (eight earnies in four and a third), and the rest of their Mets teammates.

Didn’t they get the memo about our appetite for interleague play?

Jon Lester learned on the job — he’s got a good teacher — and got a win for his efforts. (And he sure did labor in the fourth and fifth.)

And the bats got it done in a big way once again.

Pre-game festivities paid tribute to the shoulda-beens of ’86, and Boggs, Rice, and Dewey, Bruce Hurst, Oil Can, Spike Owen, Glenn Hoffman, Schiraldi, and even Bill Buckner (in absentia) drank in the adulation.

(Their old teammate was having a tougher time of it over in Motown.)

And, to the surprise of few, Pedro Martinez was warmly welcomed, cheered long and loud by a crowd grateful for his past glories. (Dirt Dog must have been disappointed.) Petey returned the love. "It was emotional," he said. "Unless you don't have a heart and you're made of ice, you feel that."

But despite the stirring Jumbotron tribute (set to an unfortunately treacly soundtrack) it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. At his press conference, writes Michael Silverman, Pedro put it plainly.

His most provocative comment came in response to whether or not he had spoken with Red Sox principal owner John Henry since the two sides split following the failed negotiations of November and December of 2004.

“No, I haven’t but I wish he were here right now so I could say to him that I got four years and that I wanted them to work something out,” Martinez said. “I wish (team president and CEO Larry) Lucchino were right here, so I could tell Lucchino again, when I flipped my glasses down (at an airport tarmac sit-down in the Dominican Republic in early December of 2004) and I said that I got four years, and he goes, ‘No, bullshit’ - so he could really reconsider what he did, when I told him that I got four years.

“I remember John Henry saying, ‘I don’t care how many years you get, just get it done.’ Those were the exact words. I just wish they were here so they could reconsider all that and remember that I was honest. And I said the truth.”

Well, I suppose that depends who you ask. Seth Mnookin offers some context, clarifying Pedro’s “revisionist history” in this post and this one. Hmmm.

(Stop by Seth’s site and sign up for a sweepstakes to win a copy of his new book, Feeding the Monster, the inside scoop of his unfettered access to Yawkey Way in 2005, a year when he “lived with the Red Sox... spending mornings with the front office, afternoons with the players, and evenings with the owners.” He knows things you and I don’t.)

I’m not gonna ascribe blame here, however. What’s done is done. He doesn't work here any more.

But what he did on that mound between 1998 and 2004 trumps whatever shenanigans he may have been involved with off of it. (And at least one person is grateful for the things he did away from the game.)

He was one in a million, and I miss him badly. Mazz puts it best: “Truth be told, we have never had anyone like him. Never! Roger Clemens has had arguably the greatest pitching career of all-time, but Martinez dwarfs him in intelligence and wit. Martinez’ peak seasons were better than anything Clemens has done, and Martinez was just as tough and intimidating, particularly when it came to protecting his teammates."

He’ll be cheered tonight.

And then we’ll commence to beating him and his team.

But it won’t be as easy as it was last night. As Curt Schilling (a/k/a Gehrig38) writes, “give him a big ass standing ovation, then after pitch one rattle his ass as best you can, we'll need the help I think.”

Etc.
You know he wishes he could be there.

He’s out of surgery, resting in ICU, docs are “cautiously optimistic on his recovery,” and word has just come out that he’s listed in good condition. But Gammons isn’t out of the woods yet. Pray, hope, wish, cross-fingers, knock wood, sacrifice burnt offerings, whatever you do, but Gammo needs our good thoughts to help him get through this. (Pearl Jam has done their part, apparently, with Eddie Vedder dedicating the song “Light Years” to his “friend Peter” in Minneapolis last night.)

He’s too important to the game. And we need him to stick around for a long time to come. As Mnookin puts it:

One of the things that I find most impressive about Peter is his never-ending curiosity about the game. I’ve never met a reporter who works the phones harder. He seems to know every minor leaguer in the country–and their families–and reports his ass off at a time when he could coast by on his reputation. His love of baseball is infectious. Most importantly, Peter is a delightful human being: considerate, thoughtful, generous, and funny.

Check out this thread at Sons of Sam Horn and the mailbag at ESPN.com for some stirring tributes to a great baseball man. Someone who still loves the game, those who play it, and those who watch it, with all his heart (something that not every sportswriter can say).

In the SoSH thread, one guy writes the words that every sportswriter must wish people would say: “Gammons is the only reason I love baseball as much as I do. I don't want baseball without Gammons”

Get well soon, Commish.

6/28/2006 1:04:50 PM by Mike Miliard | Comments [0] |  
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