Ben's 10: NFL Return Men

I was reading Aaron's Best of 2007 posts last week and it dawned on me I haven't made a list in a long time. To usher myself back into the the list game, I picked an under-represented topic: the best kick and punt return men in football history.

It would've been easiest to do it statistically and rank them by most touchdowns or yards per return, but that wouldn't be fun. So here's my list in descending order.

The Greatest Returners in NFL History.

10. Mel Gray. Much like the No. 2 spot on SportsCenter's "Top Plays," I considered throwing something here that didn't really fit, my version of a full-court shot by a JV player on grainy HandyCam footage. I thought about Troy Brown (for being my favorite player), Steve Smith (for his guts in continuing to return punts despite being one of the best wideouts in the league) or Josh Cribbs (cuz let's face it, the young gunna is sick). But Gray's gotta get some props for being the most abused kick returner ever. On some terrible teams, he got plenty of kick return chances, and as a result built up 10,250 kick return yards and six kick return touchdowns.

9. Dave Meggett. Distinguishes himself as the one guy who was consistently a factor on winning teams. He opened his career with 1,159 return yards for the 1989 New York Giants (who were kind of awesome), and was the return workhorse for those Big Blue teams before taking his act to New England in 1995. In typical fashion, he compiled 1,369 return yards for the 1996 Patriots team that went to the Super Bowl.

8. Gale Sayers. People who scoff at his Hall of Fame inclusion often focus on his rushing numbers and overlook his return stats. The guy averaged 30.56 yards per kickoff return, an amount so obscene it's no surprise it's an NFL record. He is also tied for the all-time lead in kickoff return touchdowns with six. (Trivia quiz: Can you name the other two players on this list who are tied with Sayers in this category?)

7. Desmond Howard. The only return man to single-handedly win a Super Bowl. Alright, so some guy named Brett Favre had a little to do with it, but it wasn't No. 4 who broke the Pats' will with a kickoff return touchdown and 244 total return yards. Yikes. He also had six punt return touchdowns in his career with six teams.

6. Eric Metcalf. Anyone who calls Devin Hester the best returner ever should be required to recite Metcalf's statistics. In addition to holding the NFL record with 10 punt return touchdowns, the Seattle product holds the distinction of being almost as good at playing his position as he was at returning (a rarity on this list). Metcalf made three Pro Bowls and made 104 receptions with Atlanta in 1995.

5. Dante Hall. Should Hester ever break down the door and win an MVP award for his return excellence, he'll have Hall to thank for sticking his foot in the door jamb. For a guy who only really had three good seasons, it didn't take Hall long to pull into second on the all-time return touchdowns list with 12.

4. Billy Johnson. When the NFL put together its 75th Anniversary Team, it chose "White Shoes" to be its returner. In 14 seasons, primarily as an Oiler and Falcon, Johnson made three Pro Bowls and twice led the league in yards per touch. Unfortunately, he was no Dave Meggett. He played in one playoff game, and largely watched as his Oilers were pounded, 27-7, by the Raiders.

3. Deion Sanders. He's the nastiest cornerback ever, and if I were counting interception returns as "returns," he'd be No. 1, but I'm not. The merit lies in the look of pure fear and the "Aw, sh*t" opposing fans uttered any time Deion went back to return a boot. By the way, I can't resist posting this photo.

2. Devin Hester. Someday very, very soon, Hester will more likely than not ascend to the top of the list. He's already second in return TDs in 32 games, about a fifth of long-timers like Meggett or Mitchell. The only reason he's not No. 1 in my mind is because if he gets Jason Sehorned in the season opener next season and never returns another kick or punt for TD, he'd still deserve No. 2, whereas it'd be harder to justify knocking him down a peg.

1. Brian Mitchell. Longevity does matter. Certainly, Hester may end up shattering Mitchell's league-record 13 return touchdowns by the time Hester reaches the 223 game mark, but until that happens, Mitchell remains the godfather of return men. His two highest marks in punt returns and yards came 11 years apart -- at 23, he had 45 returns for 600 yards in 1991 for the Redskins; at 34, he had 46 returns for 567 yards. In between, he was pretty damn good, too.

History ends -- well, not yet

If anyone read this blog, I would risk a lot of grief from my fellow native New Englanders in this post. Since nobody does, I'll just put down a groundbreaking prediction for posterity, so 20 years from now, when ESPN Classic2 asks, "Who saw this coming?" they can get the movie commercial guy to intone, "One man..."

The New England Patriots are the class of the NFL, obvious to everyone who hasn't been living under a rock for the past four months. If you have been, Hi. How were the grubs?

It's pretty well accepted, with only one marginally challenging game against the Giants left on the schedule, that the Patriots are going 16-0. Super Bowl, here we come, is what just about everyone in the six-state region is thinking. I'm not among them.

If the playoffs started today, it would be a highly controversial decision since the field is not yet set. After we waved aside the Browns and rewarded their spot to the Titans, the AFC playoffs would look like this:

Week 1

BYES: Patriots, Colts

Wild Card games: Jaguars over Titans, Steelers over Chargers

Week 2

AFC Divisional games: Patriots over Steelers, Jaguars over Colts

Week 3

AFC Championship: Jaguars over Patriots

WHA??? Call me crazy, but I see the Pats getting physically dominated in the AFC title game by the Jags. This is contingent upon the Jaguars getting to Peyton Manning, of course, but when that defense comes to play, it's over for the Colts. And the Jags have something no team the Pats have faced yet has: Two dominant running backs. Jeez, look what McGahee did on his own. Imagine Fred Taylor and Maurice Jones-Drew's fresh legs pounding the Pats' weak rushing-defending line into submission, then steady QB David Garrad making the smart, short passes to grind out the clock.

Sounds to me like the greatest upset in NFL history.

The Jags have done this kind of thing before. Remember when there was no way they could beat the Broncos in 1997? They took out Elway, then still a talented chokester like Donovan McNabb in his current incarnation. The people of Jacksonville might not care a lick about their Jaguars, but this franchise has always fought to the bitter end.

The Patriots, therefore, might want to get their acts together. Their players like to talk about only focusing on the week ahead, but as of the AFC title game, there won't be any "next week" to look forward to.

Is it 1995 again?

As you may have noticed, Grant Hill is nasty again.

In the 12th year of an injury-derailed career, Calvin Hill's son is back to being one of the most unguardable players one-on-one in the league. The uniform has changed (which is a good thing, if you remember this), but he's still Tamia's hubby and he still goes from zero to dunk mode in a 20th of a second.

DeSagna Diop discovered this the hard way last night. (Sorry, I couldn't find a good photo of Hill's facial of Diop.)

Hill's numbers aren't up to his younger days, but through 26 games, he is averaging 15.7 points, 4.7 rebounds and 3.6 assists per game.

Remember when there was only one other guy put up nightly numbers like that?

I believe the biggest reason the NBA is watchable again is because it's taken a heavy dose of blasts from the past. Hill's re-emergence. Penny playing with Shaq in Miami (since waived).

What is it, 1995?

Or maybe it's 1985. How else to explain the Celtics, Pistons and Lakers all in first place? The Sixers and Hawks could actually be in playoff contention, and they're even doing it without Moses or Dominique.

Last night's Celtics-Pistons and Suns-Mavericks games were two of the best regular-season NBA games I've seen in a while. A little of the old, a little of the new. Now all we need back in the "NBA on NBC" song and pro basketball will once again be the best sport in the world.

The Rules of Being a Fan

I've been called judgmental, near-sighted and hypocritical in my opinion of what makes a real fan. It's high time, then, that I put down in writing those rules I hold to be self-evident.

Here it is, the Fan's Constitution.

Acceptable reasons to root:
Article I: Home team
The "home team" is defined as the team that represents the city closest in geographical proximity to your current or native home. Rooting for this team requires no further explanation and is 100 percent acceptable and approved.
Example: The Colorado Rockies represent all of Colorado, Southern Wyoming, Western Nebraska, Northeastern Utah, Northern New Mexico and the panhandle of Oklahoma.

Article II: Home team by proxy
Any team that physically plays its home games in your home state may be considered your "home team." This is because you are obligated by law to support this team via your tax dollars.
Example: New Jersey residents may root for the New York Giants, the New York Jets, the New Jersey Devils or the New Jersey Nets, all of whom play their home games in the Garden State. This may supersede Article I, as any arena or stadium upgrades could come out of the fans' pockets, whereas public finances for teams from Philadelphia and New York, though closer by proximity, would only impact fans from their states.
II(a): This can also be called the "Olympics rule." If your family traces its origins through a certain location, the home teams of that city may be considered your "home teams," even if you have never visited that place yourself. This rationale comes from the Olympics, in which a person of Italian descent naturally will root for Italy, even if he has never stepped foot on its shores. Still, expect raised eyebrows, especially if said team is in the midst of a run of success.
Example: Jim's parents grew up in Raleigh and later moved to Pittsburgh, where he was born. His grandparents have since moved to Atlanta, giving him no reason to visit them in North Carolina. Regardless, he may root for the Carolina Panthers and Carolina Hurricanes without reproach.

Article III: Hereditary Fandom
Your father and his father before him were Detroit Tigers fans. Your mother, three uncles, 14 cousins and pet dog are Tigers fans. Grandma missed Grandpa's funeral to watch Mark Fidrych pitch. You are from Boise. You are a Tigers fan. It's OK.
Not beyond reproach, however, due to the fact that you would have to provide an explanation every time someone asks "Why are you a Tigers fan again?"

Article IV: Financial interest
In the event a team's success would directly lead to your financial benefit, rooting for that team is not only acceptable, but expected. This includes owners, general managers, coaches, families of players (assuming as a team wins more, the player gets more exposure, increasing his contractual worth) and concession stand operators (because more wins means more people in the stands, which means more people buying beer and hot dogs from you).

Article V: Media market
Much like voting districts, the rules of U.S. media markets are serpetine entities that only make logical sense if you condiser spider shapes more logical than squares, circles or trapezoids. For instance, when a resident of Asheville, N.C., turns on the news or Fox Sports Net to see how the "home team" did, what baseball team does he see? The Cincinnati Reds. So someone who grows up in Western North Carolina will have grown up rooting for a "home team" two states away.

Article VI: No home team exists
Notice these articles are set in the model of the U.S. Constitution. The significance of that is, I'm not a fan Nazi. If you're from an area or era when there was no "home team," all bets are off. Root for whomever you like.
Example: The Mariners' reach now extends into Idaho and the Rockies broadcast throughout the Rocky Mountain region, but there was a time when most of the West had no team within 1,000 miles. As a result, folks in Montana, Wyoming, Utah, Nevada and New Mexico were merely provided baseball Games of the Week, Monday Night Football and national NBA telecasts. Once upon a time, Arizona and Florida got nothing but Spring Training games. With no natural allegiance, these fans individually came to associate with whatever team they damn well please (usually the Cowboys, Yankees or Lakers, unfortunately).

Unacceptable reasons to root:
Reason I: "I like the colors." This is fine -- if you're 4. Or a girl. Around adolescence, though, rooting for the New Orleans Saints because you like gold and black isn't cool. If you're from Tampa, white out that Saints bumper sticker and make it read, "Geaux Bucs!"

Reason II: "(Insert name here) is my favorite player." This raises all kinds of problems. It's all fine and dandy when things are going well, but who do you root for in a contract dispute? If the player receives a high-money contract, the team is put in a tighter financial situation. If the team gives the lower-money contract, the player may not have gotten the deal he deserved.
How about if the player leaves that team? If you root for his new team, were you ever truly a fan of the old team? What happens when they play each other? You say you'd root for new Giant Aaron Rowand to go 4-for-4 while the Phils win when San Francisco hosts Philadelphia, but how do you react when Roward is 3-for-3 and comes to the plate with the deciding runs in scoring position in the bottom of the ninth inning?
Even if a player spends his entire career with a team and retires in good graces, it's no argument. Surely you should root for his number to be retired, but what if the team disagrees? What if, like Jim Brown after departing the Cleveland Browns, that player returns to the team expecting the red carpet and instead got the back of Art Modell's hand?

As if I'm not jaded enough already

Win another one.

There is only one way for Bill Belichik and the New England Patriots to rescue their legacy now. First, they have to fess up, empty the carton of every trick they may have used in winning three Super Bowls, hang from the cross assuring it will never happen again.

Then, playing it clean, they have to play the same near-perfect style they've always played and get to the mountaintop once again.

How else is anyone supposed to believe the Patriots' three Super Bowls weren't the product of high-tech subtrefuge? Some may forever believe the reason quarterback Tom Brady always looked so cool and confident in the pocket was because he knew what was coming.

But if the Patriots clean the slate and win one, just one Super Bowl, with what they can place their hands on the Bible and swear is 100 percent on the up-and-up, the legacy is salvaged. Not perfect, mind you. Yet at least fans won't be able to claim the Patriots won Super Bowls because they cheated.

It merely helped.

A Michigan fan's take

Don't care how much maize and blue is in your wardrobe, Appalachian State's victory over Michigan last Saturday was awesome.

Don't agree? Hey, I'm a guy with two Michigan hats, the white preppy campus one and the "Z" hat that's always on the "Buy 1, Get 1 1/2 off" wall at Lids. In my opinion, you're not a diehard fan of a school unless you have those two pieces of headwear in your collection.

No matter one's allegiance, Appalachian State's historic upset served a public service. To say it brought me joy might be going too far, but there's definitely a satisfaction seeing the pomposity of the NCAA, the Bowl Championship Series, the Big Ten Conference and the University of Michigan itself popped like an overinflated balloon.

Apart from the obvious ground-shaking implications on the notion that BCS conferences, or even Division I-A programs, are more deserving of national title consideration than non-BCS or lower-division schools, the Appalachian State win served a few more purposes.

I did not watch Michigan's loss. I was nowhere near a television Saturday. I was out on a boat in Cape May with my girlfriend, her mom and her mom's husband. I hope if anyone out there ever has the choice between spending Labor Day weekend fishing and eating Lobster and swordfish steaks vs. sitting on your couch watching the winningest program of all time scrimmage a team it should pummel, you make the right choice. Turning down life to watch a game doesn't make you a fan... it makes you a loser.

Life for a top 10 college football fan is rarely rewarding. The rewarding seasons in any sport, in any league, at any level, come when a season expected to go nowhere ends up going somewhere. That's why the Patriots' 2002 Super Bowl was the greatest thing EVER and this year's, if they win it, will only be what they are "supposed" to do. For Michigan, Notre Dame, Ohio State, Florida, Texas, USC, and about a dozen other schools, there are no rewarding seasons. Wins are not source for celebration; they are cause for relief. You're supposed to win 'em all. When you don't, it sucks. When you do, it sucks a little less.

It's this reasoning that has led many to label Michigan's season "over." Over why? Because the loss dooms their shot at a BCS championship? News flash: Any team that loses to a I-AA opponent on opening weekend wasn't going to be challenging for any national title this year, big fella.

This loss, for Michigan, sets up some savory possibilities. The quest for a Big Ten title is untainted. The quest for a major BCS bowl is still alive (seriously). And how deliciously satisfying will it be when those Ohio State fans, gleefully scooping up any App State gear they can get their hands on this week, have to cover their Buckeye Butts in November when the Wolverines beat them for the first time in five years?

This would be a sweet comeback to an OSU fan: Hmmm.... Michigan lost to Appalachian State, so Michigan must suck. But Ohio State lost to Michigan, which lost to Appalachian State, so Ohio State must really, really, REALLY suck!

Yes, it is fully acceptable to take glee in your rival sucking more than you do, even if you both suck.

Finally, something to shut Mike Hart up. The precocious running back has put his mouth where it has no place by challenging Jim Harbaugh because Harbaugh remarked Michigan has lax academic standards for its athletes. Harbaugh might as well have said the Earth is round. Yet Hart says Harbaugh "isn't a Michigan man," as if an undergrad with zero national championships, zero Big Ten championships and zero Bowl wins determines who is and isn't a "Michigan Man."

Being a fan doesn't entail being blind, either. As a diehard Red Sox fan, I chuckle at the hypocrisy of Red Sox fans who denounce the Yankees for being rich and arrogant with a roster full of mercenary players. Well folks, the Red Sox are just as rich as the Yankees, and if you don't think the fans are arrogant, go to an opponent's park, detach yourself from your rooting interest, and look at the way BoSox fans interact with the home fans. It's shameful.

Mercenary players? At least the Yankees have Derek Jeter, Robinson Cano, Jorge Posada and Mariano Rivera, all homegrown. The Red Sox have Dustin Pedroia. The year they won the World Series, Trot Nixon was the only regular who had been drafted by the Red Sox. Who are the mercenaries?

So when I saw that Michigan had gone down, I didn't see my favorite team losing to a "lesser" opponent. I saw an arrogant, overpriced institution of learning filled with spoiled, privileged rich kids and overfed boosters forced to swallow a good dose of humility with their 7&7s (as in the kind that actually include brand name 7-Up and Seagram's 7, rather than Topp Popp Lemon Lime and well whiskey).

Lloyd Carr will probably be fired at the end of this season, providing the perfect bookends for a season that summed up all that is wrong with big time college football. Front bookend: Loss to a program designated as "inferior" even though its athletes, offensive and defensive schemes and effort were all on par with a D I-A program's. Rear bookend: Termination of a coach with a national championship on his resume, a Heisman Trophy winner under his watch (the only primarily defensive player to win, by the way), and the guy who may have permanently left Notre Dame in the dust in the battle for winningest college football program ever.

In five years, when the replacement coach has done nothing more than Carr has because there is no improving on near-perfection unless you're God, the "Fire Lloyd" brigade may have to take a look in the mirror and say, "Maybe that job isn't as easy as we think." But they probably won't.

It's a shame. It ruins a season with high hopes. It may end an illustrious coaching career. It reinforces college football, like college sports in general, is a backward enterprise in which kids keep the lure alive while adults do their best to destroy it.

Awesome.

The Harry Truth

The Little League World Series was only barely watchable to begin with, but it's close to unbearable ever since ESPN got rid of the best part of its LLWS telecasts: Harold Reynolds.

It's not like Reynolds was just reassigned. The guys was, after all, accused to sexual harrassment and terminated as studio and color analyst.

But no one matched Reynolds' ability to commentate the games like they mattered yet maintaining a bemused tone that said, "Yeah, this is on ESPN and true, some of these guys may grow up to be major leaguers, but at heart they are pre-pubescent punks who, when their team is ahead with two outs in the bottom of the sixth inning and the last fly ball floats toward them, will probably pee their jockstraps, drop the ball and lead to their team losing in horrible fashion."

Reynolds and the Little League World Series was like Joe Buck and Tim McCarver and the big league World Series. Only not as annoying.

The ultimate "I Wish Harold Were Here" moment came today in the Japan vs. Canada game. I don't know who the announcer was, but at some point he realized the Team Japan pitcher wound up almost exactly like Daisuke Matsuzaka. On the screen appeared a photo of Daisuke pitching in the World Baseball Classic with his Team Japan uniform on. (In fact, I found the exact pic.) The announcer then goes -- no lie -- "As you can see from the jersey, that photo is from Matsuzaka's days playing in the Japanese League." Huh? Because it says Japan on the chest? By that logic, every MLB team would have United States across its jersey.

My big problem with Reynolds' absence is the hypocrisy of our society. Mike Vick can abuse dogs and it'd debated whether he'll even go to jail. Michael Irvin can be an accused accomplice in a rape case and he's doing NFL Countdown. Meanwhile, Reynolds hugs a co-worker the wrong way and gets the axe?

Seriously people, let's get logical. And put Harold back where he belongs.

Coming to grips

Chris Hayes of Stella Crew recently graduated from the police cadet academy. T. Justin Chapman of 409 Northerners is soon to become a lawyer.

These events force me to face the fact that my friends are becoming everything I stood against as a teenager.

Anyone brought up in the NWA generation at some point probably shared my opinion of police officers in high school. Anyone brought up in the Johnny Cochrane era probably sees where I'm coming from in my distaste for lawyers.

You know how it goes. I'm not breaking new ground here.

Obviously it doesn't change my personal feelings toward my friends at all. I still like and respect Chris and Justin as much as ever. But it's kind of funny because I used to wonder, watching those scenes from the 1960s of anti-government protesters and hippies: What happened when they grew up? What happened when they had to support a family and realized capitalism may not be the best system, but it's necessary if you want to feed your kids? What did they do when they discovered a Democratic president could lead us into an unwinnable war in Vietnam, but a Republican president could keep us there?

Maybe those people never faced the music and that's why the current generation of children, their children, seems to have more psychological and emotional issues than any before it. But I'm hardly qualified to get into that.

I, too, am in a profession many people do not find honorable. I understand that. Many people form their negative opinions of the press from a few cases of abhorrent behavior by reporters and the media. To be fair, that's most likely where I formed my opinions of lawyers and law enforcement. Here I see a lot of paralells, and the more I understand them, the more I've come to soften my opinion.

Police, lawyers and "The Media" might be the most cursed generalities in American society. People hate them without really knowing why they hate them. Although greater than 99 percent of police officers, prison guards, sherriff's deputies, public defenders, defense attorneys, attorneys general, field reporters, desk anchors, cameramen and photographers are excellent at their jobs and perform a pivotal public service, that fewer than 1 percent sways the general public into complaining that members of those groups are corrupt or downright evil.

Ask John Q. Public if he'd rather live in a world without police, lawyers or reporters, however, and I'm pretty sure he'd turn it down. I know I would.

So that's it. I'm extremely proud of Chris earning the right to wear the uniform. I'm sure I'll be proud of Justin putting bad guys behind bars (or keeping innocent ones free, whichever one he does). And I hope a few people are proud of the work I do.

Even if I am a blood-sucking muckraker.

Swingin' for the fences

There he is, the most important baseball player of his generation.

Seriously.

Fresh off Barry Bonds setting the career home run record, Tom Glavine posting his 300th win and Ken Griffey Jr. and Sammy Sosa clouting their 600th home runs, it's good time to remind people of what really matters. And that is not being afraid to open your big fat mouth.

The most influential member of the 1964 St. Louis Cardinals was not Hall of Famer Bob Gibson. It was Curt Flood, who challenged the league's reserve clause and paved the way for free agency. The 1989 Oakland Athletics couldn't have won a World Series without Dave Stewart's 21 wins, but the game of baseball surely would remain mired in the steroid era if not for DH Jose Canseco spilling the beans.

So Bonds may have the records, but he'll never match Sheffield's impact on the Major League Baseball player in the 21st century.

Sheffield never hedged. His remarks to HBO that Hispanic players are taken advantage of by scouts was put badly, but 100 percent correct and brought a sense of relief that someone finally said it. He agreed to a trade from the Florida Marlins to the Los Angeles Dodgers (despite a blanket no-trade clause), as long as the Dodgers tore up his six-year contract and re-negotiated it in two years. After that, a no-trade clause wasn't just assurance you wouldn't be shipped out against your will; it was also assurance that if you were shipped out, you held all the cards.

Most importantly, in the era defined by the rise of Scott Boras, Leigh Steinberg and other uber-agents, Sheffield showed cojones firing his agent mid-negotiations and representing himself. Without any semblence of a college education or business background, Sheffield was not outmatched by ownership.

I don't say this out of my love of Sheffield. Newsflash: Sheffield is not universally liked by fans, media or baseball officials. Probably, those groups will make sure his legacy never gets its full due once he's gone. He's far from one of my favorite players or people, but when we're talking about professional athletes I respect, his name is near the top.

His approach at the plate is a good model for people to use in life: Swing as hard as you can three times, and if you fail, at least you gave it three monster hacks.

Give 'em hell, Shef.

(Not too sure about this, though.)

Axe Lugo... Bring Bank Alex Gonzalez

Keep smiling, dude. Baseball scouts are taught to look for talent based on five tools -- speed, power, fielding, throwing, and ability to hit for averge. Well, congratulations, you are the only zero-tool player I have ever seen in the Major Leagues.

Julio Lugo continues to be abysmal for the Boston Red Sox. Despite a recent hot streak, he is still hitting under .240. That number might be acceptable if Lugo were brilliant with the glove or solid in fundamentals, like bunting or moving runners with ground balls.

But no. Not only has Lugo's stretch of five multi-hit games merely raised his batting average from atrocious to terrible, he also muffed two attempts at a sacrifice bunt Sunday and looked like a fool in four instances over four games in Baltimore last weekend.

He's especially bad when taken in comparison to Alex Gonzalez, the defensive whiz he replaced and was supposed to be an offensive upgrade over.

I want this man back (pause).

A-Gon was the most remarkable defensive shortstop I've ever seen. That includes Rey Ordonez, Derek Jeter, Omar Vizquel, et cetera, et cetera. He's having a down year in the field this year with the Reds, but the man simply doesn't make errors. In 111 games with Boston last year, Gonzalez made seven errors. Seven.

Here's the statistical breakdown:

Julio Lugo, Boston Red Sox, SS

Batting average: .238

On-base percentage: .299

RBI: 55

Home runs: 6

Doubles: 24

Runs: 51

Errors: 14 (in 109 games)

Alex Gonzalez, Cincinnati Reds, SS

Batting average: .262

On-base percentage: .317

RBI: 51

Home runs: 16

Doubles: 23

Runs: 46

Errors: 15 (in 91 games)

Keep in mind that Lugo is receiving $36 million over four years and Gonzalez is receiving $14 milliong over three years. Also, adjust run production for the fact Lugo plays on a team that scores many more runs, and he's actually a worse RBI guy and run-scorer.

Bring back Alex.

The Monster Seats are Stupid

Think fast. What is the definitive feature of Fenway Park in Boston?
And what can't a fan see when he or she is sitting in the Monster seats?
Exactly. Therein lies the reason I can't stand the novelty seats atop the Green Monster, or the fans who somehow think it's cool.
It's supposedly sacriligeous for a Red Sox fan to find anything about Fenway to be less than divine. The quaint, homey atmosphere and history makes it okay that 75 percent of the seats have an obstructed view of some part of the field, that the seats are uncomfortable and the legroom is less than the backseat of Aaron's Saturn (full disclosure: All information regarding the backseat of Aaron's car came from interviews with this woman).
The Monster Seats represent the further retardation of the Fenway spell, however. From ad creep (then vs. now) to the bloated roster (then vs. now), current Red Sox ownership have bottled and packaged the enchantment and made it a product. Kind of like you-know-what.
Where am I going with this? I have no idea. I'm happy the Red Sox are keeping Fenway around, rather than give into the prospect of big attendance and fast money by building a new stadium. I never thought I'd see Yankee Stadium, Tiger Stadium, Wrigley Field or Fenway go down, but pretty soon it'll be two down, two to go.
No one who is truly interested in the game would sit atop the monster. Essentially, the Monster Seats are overpriced bleachers with a terrible view. "Fans" only want to sit up there so later than can squeal to all their friends, "I sat on the Green Monster!" Kind of like teenage girls who stand for hours at shopping mall FYEs to have some boy band star sign their CD and flash a smile, just so the girls can say they "met" said heartthrob later.
The alternative to commercializing every inch of Fenway Park is, of course, blowing it up. That should never happen. I'll just continue to be disgruntled and refuse to sit there (which shouldn't be too hard, seeing as I can't get tickets to any Red Sox home game anyway) while loving the fact the owners aren't giving up their cozy 38,000-seat landmark. Instead, they're hitting each and every paying fan with obnoxiously skyrocketing ticket costs.
Only in America.

I don't go out in Philly enough

I used to get irked at myself at the end of every summer, when I'd get ready to go back to school for the umpteenth time and realize I hadn't been out in the city of Boston nearly as often as I'd told myself I would at the start of the summer. Looking back, it was far too cool a city for me and my friends to have actually done sh*t on a regular basis, especially when we were of age.
So now it's August 13, 2007, and I've got the same sinking feeling. My girlfriend lives in Philly, I live a mere 45 minutes away, and I think I've been out and about in the city three or four times all summer.
Unlike when I lived in Massachusetts, though, the fun doesn't have to stop just cuz summer ends. By the time I was old enough to really have any fun in Beantown, I was in college, and therefore had to leave in August. But in this case, there is no excuse for me not to be up in Philly every other weekend doing something.
So here's the deal. If everyone's up for it, and since almost everyone is back in the greater Philadelphia area now, let's try to make some things happen. (Keep in mind that as of Sept. 7, I won't be free any Friday night until Thanksgiving. High School football's a bitch.)
I need to get a life. But I need your help.

It's not called the "Hall of Numbers"

On the heels of the most deserving Baseball Hall of Fame induction class in years -- the Padres' Tony Gwynn and the Orioles' Cal Ripken -- there is a lot of uncertainty regarding future classes. Names that were once thrown around as sure-fire first-ballot guys are now uncertain, and other guys whom most fans never thought of as the best-of-the-best are under consideration.

Although anyone who's heard me talk about the Hall of Fame before will say I sound like a broken record, I repeat: There is a reason it isn't called the Hall of Accomplishment. Statistical benchmarks are the most often abused factors in deciding HoF induction, in my opinion. Stats play a part, but 3,000 hits, 500 home runs and 250 pitching wins does not a hall of famer make.

Here's my quick list of active or soon-to-be-eligible players who, in my mind, should or should not make the Hall of Fame. I'm only talking about guys who I believe are debatable; obviously I'm not going to waste time presenting a case for Alex Rodriguez.

Plaque-worthy (team he will be inducted as):

Derek Jeter, Yankees -- The ultimate example of stastical benchmarks being misleading. Jeter's a nice player statistically, with a lifetime .317 average, 191 home runs and 915 runs batted in. Some will try to argue he's a HoFer simply by winning, but I've never subscribed to that theory (after all, Dan Klecko has three Super Bowl rings. Does he belong in Canton?). Rather, if A-Rod stays a third baseman, Jeter will go down as the second-greatest shortstop of a stacked generation of shortstops (No. 1: Miguel Tejada).

Pedro Martinez, Red Sox -- The most dominant pitcher of the late 1990s, and that's that. The fact that Mussina, Schilling and David Wells trump him in key stats like career strikeouts and wins means nothing. From 1996 to 2004, if you had to win one game with one pitcher, who would you have chosen? Thought so.

Sammy Sosa, Cubs -- Really, truly on the bubble for most people, but not me. Eliminate benchmarks from the discussion and ask, who were the greatest outfielders of the 1990s to early 2000s? Bonds, Griffey, Sosa, Ramirez, Sheffield. At least the top three must go in. Or, throw in benchmarks, and guess what? No HoF that accepts Frank Thomas can not accept Sosa, period.

Manny Ramirez, Red Sox -- Few people realize this guy is still fairly young. Manny is 35 and although his production has slowed, he's got 6-8 good years left. As a designated hitter, he could be playing deep into his 40s. Not to mention that if this were 25 years ago, he could retire right now and make it on the first ballot.

John Smoltz, Braves -- In Smoltz's case, even the folks who are slaves to statistics will have to throw them out for him. 203 wins and 154 saves is nothing special compared to, say, Dennis Eckersley. Tom Glavine and Greg Maddux can have their 300 wins. If I'm a Braves fan, I'm thrilled Smoltz was the one we kept.

Non-plaque-worthy:

Craig Biggio, Astros -- For the billionth time, this guy is not HoF material. Sure, he's the active leader in hits, at-bats, and games played, but what does that mean? It took Biggio 20 years to get 3,000. That's an underwhelming 150 hits a season. By comparison, Roberto Clemente reached 3,000 in 17 years, and he was hardly Ty Cobb-esque; Clemente's lifetime average was a great-but-not outstanding .317.

Additionally, when you talked about the best second baseman, or catchers, or third baseman, or left fielders during Biggio's career, did his name ever enter the discussion? (Some folks note that Biggio was fourth and fifth in MVP voting in 1997 and '98. Big deal. Morgan Ensberg was fourth in MVP voting in 2005.) He played hard and was fun to watch, but that doesn't make him a HoFer.

Mike Mussina, Orioles -- Few people realize the statistical resume this guy has put together. Among active pitchers, he's fifth in wins (246), seventh in strikeouts (2,639) and seventh in inngs (3,316). Yet his run of dominance was short and included almost zero postseason success. If the 38 year old can hold on for 3-4 more full seasons, he might get 300 wins, but should that really alter his chances?

Frank Thomas, White Sox -- No frickin' way. Thomas is reportedly a nice guy, and shared the title as the most must-watch hitter of the early '90s with Bo Jackson, but injuries derailed a surefire HoF career. Solely among active players, many of whom are years younger, Thomas is way down at 13th in average (.302), 12th in hits (2,360), and while he's fifth in home runs, he's the oldest of the top 12, save Bonds, who parlayed his longevity into becoming the all-time home run king.

Omar Vizquel, Indians -- Vizquel is only 3-4 good years away from reaching 3,000 hits (he currently has 2,571 and will probably end the season around 2,600), and in today's day and age it's not far-fetched to believe the 40-year-old shortstop could be around that long. Still, if we're going to give a guy 25 years to reach 3,000, and still consider it noteworthy, is there any statute of limitations to when 3,000 isn't all that impressive? What about 3,000 hits in 30 seasons?

Jim Thome, Indians -- Like Thomas, Thome tantalized us with the long ball but hardley made his mark enough to make the hall. You talk about a one-trick pony, and Thome was it: 490 home runs, but a marginal hitter for average and not even a great run-producer. Somehow, in eight full seasons with those fearsome Indians lineups of the mid-'90s, Thome managed to only break the 110-RBI mark twice. Ugh.

Curt Schilling, Phillies/Diamondbacks/Red Sox -- An exceptional postseason pitcher and an exceptionally ho-hum HoF candidate. His 3,091 career strikeouts are really something, right? Well, not when you consider Pedro is only two Ks away from 3,000, and he's six years Schilling's junior. Similarly, Schilling only surpassed 17 wins in a season twice, and he's been around for 20 years. Remember, when considering statistics, also consider the context.

I Hate Red Sox Fans Part I

Seems like this time every year, either Aaron, Derek or Justin motivates me to get back in the blogging game. This time, I'm not making any promises about posting regularly.

Like the tagline says, I'll post when I get around to it.

My first recorded post will be a rant, sure to be added upon at future dates, against Boston Red Sox fans.

I myself am a Red Sox fan. Up until 2003, I enjoyed the company of other people who called themselves "Red Sox fans." Most were real, longtime fans who had some sense of the team's history and hardship. The threads on their "B" hats were worn and dirty and they brought mini radios to games, sat in the centerfield bleachers and cheered (and booed) only when necessary.

I can pinpoint when it changed. It was the release of the movie "Still, We Believe" in 2003. It was an interesting documentary, but I should have seen then the damage it would cause. It was released in theaters. Huh? An hour and a half of fans talking about how much they love the Red Sox? Real fans didn't need the movie; we already knew we loved them. The problem was, some gullible schmucks who had no allegiance beforehand walked out going, "Man, I love the Red Sox TOO!"

From there it got worse. Pink Red Sox hats. "Fever Pitch." Monster seats. Ticket prices soaring as if the paper for the stubs was drilled for in Iraq. The 2004 World Series.

Now, I'm not saying I wished they hadn't won it in 2004. Far from it. I was ecstatic, and if the Red Sox don't make the playoffs again as long as I live, I can die in peace.

But I haven't been back to Fenway Park since summer 2004 (Justin remembers). Tickets are even more expensive, even with the added bleachers on the Green Monster and above Pesky Pole in right field. Even if seats were $1, though, the demand would still be too great to gain admittance.

What happened? Where'd all these people come from? I used to go to 6-8 games a year, some -- gasp! -- not even sellouts. Now the sellouts are composed mostly of sellouts, if you get my meaning. What do these fans expect now? They missed it already. The suffering, the waiting, the hoping... it all came and went. From here on, the Red Sox will either a) not win another World Series, or b) win their second since 2004.

What's the lure in that?

My parents are picking me up on their way to Baltimore tomorrow morning and we're going to see the Red Sox play the Orioles on Saturday and Sunday at Camden Yards. I'm pumped. I haven't seen a Red Sox game live since I went to Camden Yards last summer.

But for every piece of pink Red Sox paraphenalia I see, I'll cringe. Every time Manny Ramirez or David Ortiz hits an obvious popup to the outfield and fans roar as if it has any chance of leaving the park, I'll cringe. Anyone I see wearing a No. 34 Red Sox shirt with "Big Papi" on the back, I'll give a respectful nod, but anyone with a No. 34 Red Sox shirt that says "El Guapo" or "Boomer," I'll give them a high five.

Future Red Sox-related rants: Why the Monster Seats are Stupid, Why Red Sox Fans at Other Stadiums are Annoying, Anyone Who Hates Derek Jeter Knows Nothing about Baseball and Should Be Shot, and When Unconditional Love Gets Out of Control.