Peter Gammons Bows to Sacred Chalices

Luckily for his readers, Gammons seems to have returned to his senses after spending a day objectively labeling Alex Rodriguez the worst person in the history of sports. Luckily for us, his latest column is still full of terrible writing. And away we go...

It was a moment in a season that changed Red Sox history, a great season after which from town to town, New Englanders bowed in front of the World Series trophy as if it were a sacred chalice. That team, from Curt Schilling to Game 4 ALCS winner Curtis Leskanic, did something people claimed they would die for. But many forgot that it was a point in time, one unforgettable season for a veteran and aging team of oft-loveable "idiots," and when Theo Epstein began rearranging it for the longer haul, there was an outcry in the streets and talk shows, and players used the we-did-what-nobody-else-did chant to assume entitlement to allow them to live forever in Fenway Park, at whatever age, whatever cost, whatever reality.

I will grant Peter that the first "it was", while still stylistically poor, at least refers to a logical antecedent - the Dave Roberts steal. However, there are far too many horrible constructions in this paragraph for me to narrate, so let's just list them:

1) "...as if it were a sacred chalice." I mean...have you ever seen anybody bow in front of a sacred chalice?

2) "But many forgot..." Who forgot? Have they since remembered? Also, if you're still talking about the Roberts steal (and at this point I honestly have no idea whether you are or not), I doubt that these many people, whoever they are, have forgotten about the Roberts steal. Pretty memorable moment, I'd say.

3) "...that it was a point in time, one unforgettable season..." What was? Still the Roberts steal? Also, nice use of an appositive here. An appositive (in this case, "one unforgettable season") generally modifies the noun that came before it ("a point in time"). I shouldn't have to explain why "unforgettable season" can't really modify "a point in time".

4) "But many forgot that it was a point in time, one unforgettable season..."

Gene Rayburn: The baseball season was so unforgettable--

Audience: HOW UNFORGETTABLE WAS IT?

Rayburn: The baseball season was so unforgettable that many people blanked it.

Contestant: Um, forgot?

[audience jeers]

Rayburn: You are a moron.

5) "...for a veteran and aging team..." Crystal clear phrase here. At first I thought he meant "for one veteran, and an aging team", but then I realized he was just being redundant and was using veteran as a separate adjective for the team.

6) "...of oft-loveable 'idiots'" What the fuck does "oft-loveable" mean? Aren't people either loveable or not? Also, by the way, I'm really tired of the whole "idiots" thing.

7) "...when Theo Epstein began rearranging it for the longer haul..." Wrong word, Peter. Epstein did not "rearrange" the team. You could use "retooling" or even "gutting". But Epstein did not just put each player in a different position. "Here, Manny, you play catcher, Varitek, you go out to center, and Ortiz, you and Timlin switch."

8)"...players used the we-did-what-nobody-else-did chant..." I'm skeptical that there is such a chant. It doesn't even have the rhythm of a proper chant. Seriously, try chanting this.

At this rate, I don't think I'm ever going to finish bashing this post. Regardless, onward!

Three of their four winning starters were 27 and under, their superman closer 26.

Either "Superman" is capitalized, or it's not a word. How does this escape the editors' attention? And wouldn't this sentence be far better and more succint if it just said, "Three of their four winning starters and their 'Superman' closer were 27 and under"? (Better yet, 27 years old or younger.)

Lugo became a defensive giant; his critical Game 3 play ranging deep into the hole ("unbelievable range," said Mike Lowell) and, instinctively knowing he had no play at first or second and, as Lugo explained, "If I threw the ball to Mike in the air I might hit the runner," tossed a Cousyesque bounce pass to Lowell.

First, let's find the subject and the verb after the semicolon. This should be easy, right? Well, the subject has to be the Game 3 play, and the verb is...is...tossed. So, if we extract all but the most basic elements of this sentence, it reads, "his Game 3 play tossed a bounce pass to Lowell." Awesome.

Okay, now let's read it just without the gratuitous quotes. "His critical Game 3 play ranging deep into the hole and, instinctively knowing he had no play at first or second, and tossed a Cousyesque bounce pass to Lowell." Also, this is a pretty common sportswriter mistake, but the Game 3 play did not range deep into the hole; Lugo himself did. And granted, it was a nice play, but that Lugo "instinctively" knew that he had no play at first or second wasn't particularly impressive; I would say any professional shortstop would be cognizant of this fact.

Ortiz and Ramirez dominated the postseason with their presence and at-bats; Schilling won three huge games; Youkilis emerged on the national stage as one of the game's premier hitters; Timlin's two strikeouts in the seventh inning of Game 4 saved the victory; and, as he did all season, Varitek's handling of a diverse, multicultural and sometimes curious pitching staff was immense. "Put it this way," he said Sunday night, "I am exhausted."

1) Gammons spent the previous paragraph talking about the '04 team, and then abruptly switches to the '07 team in this paragraph. What makes this abrupt switch particularly confusing is that he's talking about players common to both the '04 and the '07 teams. It literally took me three readings to realize he's talking about the '07 team now.

2) ...and as he did all season, Varitek's handling of a diverse, multicultural and sometimes curious pitching staff was immense. A clause such as "As he did all season" should be followed by a verb, as in the following examples:

Good: As he did all season, Tom Brady threw many touchdown passes.

Bad: As he did all season, Tom Brady's touchdown throws were awesome.

Good: As he did all year, Peter Gammons displayed zero knowledge of even the most basic grammatical concepts.

Bad: As he did all year, Peter Gammons' knowledge of even the most basic grammatical concepts was zero.

You get the idea.

3) In case you were wondering, the Red Sox's pitching staff was both diverse AND multicultural.

4) What the hell does he mean when he says that the pitchers were " sometimes curious"?

Papelbon: Hey, Jason, what's a "curveball"?

Varitek: A curveball is a pitch that, thanks to the spin a pitcher applies, breaks sharply downward and slightly to the side.

Papelbon: Okay, thanks, I was just curious.

Varitek: Then how come you didn't ask me earlier?

Papelbon: Oh, well, I'm only sometimes curious.

5) Varitek's handling of the pitching staff is immense. I'm not sure I need to spell out the obvious double entendre possibilities here, but let's just say that even if there was no possibility to derive any kind of innuendo from this sentence, it's still a bizarre thing to say. I know that, recently, "big" and "huge" have come to mean "important", but "immense"? Come on.

There's a lot more here, but I'll leave you with this, the end of the column:

And when and if they do win again, the lessons learned in being...

In being?! There is no grammatical mistake more pervasive and egregious than the overuse of the word "being".

...the only team to win two rings in the 21st century will be relearned again...

I think he means "learned again" or just "relearned"

over screeching protests.

Huh?? Who will be protesting? I'm screechingly protesting this sentence!

*EDIT: Foist has pointed out that I actually neglected to include arguably the most confusing and scattered paragraph of all. I'm willing to consider other nominations, though. Anyway, here it is:

In the interim, they made the playoffs in 2005 and fell apart down the stretch in 2006, but now, as they must make decisions on Lowell and Schilling, their core includes Jacoby Ellsbury, who may turn into a blend of Grady Sizemore and Steve Finley; Dustin Pedroia, who defines winning, with second baseman/shortstop Jed Lowrie on the 2008 horizon and outfielder Brandon Moss very close. Josh Beckett may be the best pitcher in the game, and he is 27, as is Daisuke Matsuzaka. Jon Lester went out less than a year after chemotherapy and shut out Colorado into the sixth inning in the clincher; he may be a 16-18 game winner next year, and Clay Buchholz, Craig Hansen, Justin Masterson, Manny Delcarmen and others will soon be in the mix in a pitching market where Carlos Silva may get four years at $12 million a year and Trever Miller might be a $10 million man; put Hideki Okajima on the market this winter and the opening bid might be three years and $12 million.

Ostensibly, Gammons' entire column is supposed to be about decisions that the Red Sox have to make over the offseason. In reality, his only reference to these decisions reads as follows: "but now, as they must make decisions on Lowell and Schilling..." What? That's it?? They must make decisions? Thank you for your insight. Seriously. Also, how many times does Gammons start a clause with the word "as" for absolutely no reason? God dammit. Some other things wrong with this paragraph:

"Dustin Pedroia, who defines winning;" This part was confusing until I found this item in Gammons' bio: "Gammons enjoys fellating anybody even remotely associated with the Red Sox." Ah, that explains it. Also, Pedroia? He's a freaking rookie, for God's sake. If the Red Sox miss the playoffs next year, does he still define winning? Maybe he would then define "winning only sometimes" or "winning in odd-numbered years".

"Josh Beckett may be the best pitcher in the game, and he is 27, as is Daisuke Matsuzaka. " Here's another great usage of the word "as". Is he saying that Daisuke is also 27, or that he also might be the best pitcher in the game? I would assume the former, but then why even include that? He heaps praise on every other young member of the Red Sox, and then about Matsuzaka he can't think of anything to say at all, so he just says, "Um, he's also 27!" Remember, Peter, you're supposed to love every Red Sox player unconditionally (while pretending to be an "objective" writer for a national website).

"Jon Lester went out less than a year after chemotherapy and shut out Colorado into the sixth inning in the clincher; he may be a 16-18 game winner next year, and Clay Buchholz, Craig Hansen, Justin Masterson, Manny Delcarmen and others will soon be in the mix in a pitching market where Carlos Silva may get four years at $12 million a year and Trever Miller might be a $10 million man; put Hideki Okajima on the market this winter and the opening bid might be three years and $12 million." This rambling sentence is way too long and full of nothing but conjecture: "he may be a 16-18 game winnner..." "Silva may get four years..." "Miller might be a $10 million man..." "the opening bid might be three years..." And what the hell does the pitching market have anything to do with these pitchers? They're not putting any of these guys on the market. Is he just saying they're good? How much Red Sox fawning is in his contract, anyway?

Police! A-Rod Stole My Spotlight! And My Purse!

Gammons' latest entry is so badly written (typical) and so colossally stupid (less typical) that every line of it deserves a thrashing. So here we go...

In many ways, it's sad, because Alex Rodriguez is a great player and a good guy.

What is sad? What ways? Anyway, Gammons goes on to assert and/or insinuate about a dozen times that Rodriguez is NOT a good guy and in fact doesn't care if anyone dies of cancer.

On the field after the Red Sox clinched their second world championship in four seasons, I had two Rockies players beg me to rip A-Rod for his attention grab, one Red Sox player said he'd walk away if asked about Rodriguez and more than 10 other players reveled in laughing at the iconic $30 million-a-year player who doesn't know what it's like to be Jon Lester or Dustin Pedroia, Ryan Spilborghs or Bobby Kielty and play in a World Series.

So here we have Gammons gloating about his connections and dropping names ad nauseum once again. Major League players are begging him to do stuff. Wow, someone give this guy a Peabody. And is Gammons suggesting that Bobby Kielty is better than A-Rod? Or more deserving of respect or adulation because he occupied a bench spot on a World Series team? Or that Kielty's .218 BA, 1 HR, and 12 RBI's in 87 at bats this year did more to get the Sox to the World Series than A-Rod's gargantuan numbers would have?

Also, I ask you Mr. Gammons, did "more than 10" players really laugh and tell you that this is what they were laughing about? Or did you really spend the time to ask more than 10 players about A-Rod "stealing the spotlight," and they just laughed? Did you consider, for just a second, that the reason they were laughing (and the reason the one player "threatened to walk away") was because they just won the world series, they were a WEE BIT more interested in that, and your question was comically asinine and irrelevant? And did they really "revel in laughing"? Good lord.

Which brings us to the main reason why this article is so incredibly dumb -- A-Rod didn't "steal" the spotlight, it was entirely Fox's (and, I guess, ESPN's) decision to give it to him. Nobody forced Ken Rosenthal at gunpoint to issue that report. Of course, would you, Peter, seriously deny that it wasn't a story worth mentioning, even as the Red Sox were wrapping up a total yawner/blowout of a series? If not, then what are you complaining about? If yes, then complain to Fox... and yourself, for pestering at least thirteen players who were just involved in the deciding game of the World Series about this, an issue that has nothing to do with them or that game.

And surprise, the writing sucks.

"I had two Rockies players beg me..." Why "I had"? Are you saying you asked them to beg you? That wouldn't surprise me, actually. But assuming you didn't, why not just say "Two rockies players begged me"? Was it a narcissistic desire to make yourself the subject of every possible sentence?

Also, this characteristic run-on is really at least 2, probably 3 sentences. The comma after "attention grab" should definitely be a period, and it would probably make sense to start over at "more than 10 players," as well.

And why this Gammons tendency to list players in twos ("Jon Lester or Dustin Pedroia, Ryan Spilborghs or Bobby Kielty...")? It's just confusing and annoying. Can anyone explain to me how Peter thinks this makes for good reading?

Fine, Rodriguez is opting out of his contract. But anyone who respected baseball would not have tried to grab the stage from the World Series -- if winning were a priority.

Anyone who respected baseball. In other words, A-Rod, a "great baseball player" and "good guy," does not even respect the game he plays. Wow, that is quite a smackdown. And you gotta love the dashes put in there for no other reason than to create a lame dramatic pause. And if "winning" were not "a priority" for this theoretical person, could they be said to "respect baseball"? Pick one thing to hammer him on, Gammons -- either not "respecting baseball" or not "prioritizing winning."

And if it's the latter.... eh, what? How does the timing of A-Rod's personal contract decision affect whether any team wins, be it the Red Sox, Rockies, Yankees, or Quad City River Bandits? Where does the place of "winning" on A-Rod's priority list enter into the picture here?

Okay, let's move on or we'll never finish up with this drivel...

Want to know about winners? Pedroia gave up his scholarship at Arizona State to free up money to sign a much-needed pitcher, so when the Sun Devils reached the College World Series, coaches and players had "DP" on their caps in honor of their leader who never got to Omaha.

After several readings, I still don't understand exactly what saintly thing Pedroia did. Why is Pedroia signing a pitcher? Isn't he a player? And what does he mean "never got to Omaha"? What's in Omaha? The College World Series? Why didn't he get there? And if he didn't, why is he a winner? I'm completely confused. And how much was this scholarship worth? I'm guessing it's less than the TENS OF MILLIONS OF DOLLARS at stake in A-Rod's contract negotiations (putting aside the issue of whether A-Rod will actually succeed in getting more money). And perhaps Pedroia comes from a pretty wealthy background and didn't need the scholarship. In fact, Pedroia might have felt that this move was of net financial benefit to him, as the team's success could get him more attention from Major League scouts, where he would get the REAL money. Just a possibility, one left unexplored by Red-Sox-brownnoser Gammons. As a test, let's check back in a few years when Pedroia is a free agent to see if he gives up money so that the Red Sox, or some other team, can sign a pitcher. Care to make a wager, Gammons? Feeling like enough of a "winner"?

The sabermetrics guys in their garages never understand these things.

Bah-zing! Take that, geeks! You guys live in garages! And probably yer MOM's garages! (snicker, snort). And what exactly do they not understand? That a player can care or not care about money? This seems like too simple a concept to escape Bill James, so please name these supposed developmentally disabled sabermetricians that can't grasp it.

Respect?

Yes, please.

Lester winning the final game of the World Series is a story that will reside with millions more people than A-Rod's gaudy statistics.

Uh, what does this have to do with "respect"? And what does he mean "reside with"? Is Jon Lester going to move into my garage? Is he a sabermetrics guy? Does this mean he doesn't understand his own "respectful" world series win? Wouldn't THAT be ironic.

Let's assume for a minute that Gammons means "reside" in our memory banks. If this is the case, I will bet him a million billion dollars that by the time A-Rod's career is over, more people will remember A-Rod's 800 career home runs and unprecented level of general baseball awesomeness than Jon Lester's decent pitching performance at the tail end of this year's boring-ass World Series. Not interesting enough, Gammons? Let's make it a billion trillion.

Remember, this is a 23-year old who in January finished chemotherapy for lymphoma.

Great story. A sincere, hearty thank-you to Lester's doctors. Now what does this have to do with A-Rod's announcement timing?

Scott Radinsky and Jerry DiPoto, both former major league pitchers, survived the same disease and said it took them nearly a year and a half to regain their velocity, and Lester walked out on the game's biggest stage and pitched 5 2/3 shutout innings.

Again, great story, great doctors, and probably some good fortune (and more Gammons name-dropping). Still waiting for some A-Rod connection...

As one doctor friend texted me, Lester brought tears and hopes to millions of kids and folks of all ages who are fighting for their lives to survive, much less win the World Series.

From the Department of Redundancy Department, we have people "fighting for their lives to survive." Seriously though, this really is a remarkable story. So WHY THE FUCK, THE DAY AFTER IT HAPPENED, ARE YOU WRITING ABOUT A-ROD? Remind me again who's stealing the spotlight?

And he did so without even a hint of a first-person pronoun. Yet, pitiably, Rodriguez did not find that as significant as his addiction to that first-person pronoun.

The less said about this atrocious "first-person pronoun" metaphor (if you can call it that), the better. How tendentious and just plain cruel is this? Based on absolutely no logic at all, Gammons has insinuated that Rodriguez does not find someone coming back from cancer "significant." A-Rod is so evil, he could care less if someone dies of cancer or lives. Good lord, considering all the frivolous libel suits out there, A-Rod's case against Gammons (and others) should be a cakewalk.

Maybe Tom Hicks will give Rodriguez whatever he wants, or Artie Moreno or Frank McCourt or someone else. Of course, none of them have what Lester, Pedroia and Kielty have.

Tom Hicks will give Artie Moreno to A-Rod? Oh right, Gammons constructs his sentences by putting all the clauses in a blender. On a substantive level, are you, Gammons, the Man with The Scoop, seriously telling me that Tom Hicks, the man who made the previous colossal A-Rod mistake, might give A-Rod MORE MONEY than before? And what do Lester, Pedroia and Kielty have that Hicks, Moreno, and McCourt don't? Is this a riddle? That's like saying, "Of course, none of those oranges have what these apples have -- cores."

To some, it's all about the front page of the tabloids and the lead on SportsCenter, to others it's about giving back money so the team can better itself, or surviving cancer and winning the clinching game of the World Series.

Finally, an "it's all about"! This is Gammons' single favorite way to start one of his horrible sentences. For fuck's sake, WHAT is all about this stuff? And what does it mean for this unknown thing to be "all about" the stuff?

And is A-Rod really "all about" the tabloids? Do you think he enjoys being lambasted for no good reason by every New York rag?

And who decides what leads on ESPN? Oh yeah, ESPN.

Hey Gammons, speaking of ESPN, how much do they pay you? What, you don't want us all to know about it and skewer you for being an overpaid hack? When was the last time you took a multi-million dollar pay cut so ESPN could do better? Never? You non-winning-prioritizing, disrespectful, attention-grabbing asshole.

And finally, damn you A-Rod. Damn you for not getting cancer, paying for good doctors, getting healed, becoming a starting pitcher, going to the world series all by yourself, and winning the deciding game. Don't you know what "it" is "all about"? Of course you don't. You are a piece of shit.

Anyone who led with Alex Rodriguez should look in the mirror and go to celebrity rehab.

Oh, "anyone" like, for instance... you? And what is celebrity rehab? Rehab for being a celebrity? For not understanding celebrities? For alcoholism? And who exactly are you complaining about? The main headline on ESPN all day was the Red Sox championship, and I've looked through several articles about the game and can't find any that lead with A-Rod. Oh Peter, just a rebel without a cause...

Jon Lester is the greatest story of the 2007 baseball season, and he wouldn't trade what he symbolizes to his fellow man for all of Alex Rodriguez's millions.

Me: "Mr. Lester, I will trade you 300 million dollars for the abstract, intangible 'symbolism' that Peter Gammons has attached to you."

Lester: "Is this some kind of a trick?"

Meanwhile, in a conference room, or perhaps a sabermetrician's mom's basement:

Boras: "In lieu of 300 million dollars, A-Rod will accept Peter-Gammons-endowed symbolism and meaning in exchange for totally ruling at baseball and making your team much, much better for the next several years."

Tom Hicks: "Intern! GET ME GAMMONS ON THE PHONE!"

After Two Whole Days of Blog, ESPN Editors STILL Not Paying Attention

Mr. Gammons was in prime form on Saturday. Let's go right to the excerpts:

He was the footnote to last winter's business, a sidebar to Daisuke Matsuzaka, at less than five percent of the cost.

First of all, to be perfectly fair, let's get the good out of the way here. I actually like the phrase "winter's business" to sum up a team's (or league's?) offseason activity. It's succinct and conveys the right tone and image. If we're going to bash his lousy metaphors, we have to praise the good ones. Speaking of bad metaphors, though... "sidebar"? As a lawyer, my immediate reaction was: what does a conference with the judge out of the jury's earshot possibly have to do with Japanese pitchers? Another context in which I'd heard the words used was when my firm's tech guys referred to the bar on the side of my Microsoft Outlook window-- also inapplicable. I figured that Peter had already used up "footnote" and he couldn't think of a similar metaphor, so he just made something up. As a measure of due diligence though, I looked up "sidebar" on dictionary.com, and learned a new a meaning, number 4: "a subordinate or incidental issue, remark, activity, etc." So Peter, you got me. You dug a little deep there with that obscure meaning, but you were right. Damn you. Of course, rather than redundantly mix metaphors, Gammons could have just written: "He was a footnote to last winter's business, bought at less than five percent of Daisuke Matsuzaka's cost." But now I'm just nitpicking, I guess. Let's just move on to the next sentence, before I start feeling too guilty...

It was suggested during the winter that he was signed to make sushi runs to Oishi or lobster taco runs to Lineage for his pitching coach, yet here, two games from winning the World Series, Hideki Okajima is proving to be, arguably, the best free agent of the 2007 season.

Ah, here we have some classic annoying Peter Gammons habits. First is the ambiguous "It is" subject-predicate that refers to nothing, coupled here with the passive voice. (Although usually it comes in the form of "It's about...," a Gammons classic that is surprisingly absent from this article.) Who suggested this? That's a secret, I guess. Although I take it that the first half of this sentence is a (lame) joke, so the answer would be nobody. Second is the name- and reference-dropping, especially Boston-related reference-dropping. Yes, Peter, we know, you got your start in Boston and you really, really know a lot about Boston. I'm sure all your Masshole readers are nodding and going "oh yeah, that's some WICKED AWESOME LOBSTAH!" But do you have to list runs to TWO different Boston restaurants?

Next, we have the extra phrases thrown in for no apparent reason other than to make the sentence longer and more confusing; here, not just the extra restaurant run, but "for his pitching coach." The joke is done, why throw this in? What difference does it make whom the runs are for?

Also, "here, two games from winning the World Series": where is "here"? I guess it's in Colorado, but the blog entry doesn't have a byline. The more appropriate adverb would seemingly be "now."

My last quibble on this sentence regards the phrase "best free agent." This seems slightly off -- wasn't he the best free agent signing? Or the best free agent signed in the 2007 season? After all, once he's "proving to be" the best, he's no longer a free agent. Now, this sentence is NOT an example of where we have no idea what Peter is saying, but these problems are distracting and force us perhaps to read the sentence twice or thrice before we understand it. It just makes for clumsy, stumbly reading.

Speaking of which...

Jon Deeble and Craig Shipley didn't recommend the 31-year old left-hander on a whim, because given the scarcity of reliable left-handed relievers in baseball played anywhere, his 11-year record of durability and reliability and stuff (681 strikeouts in 642 innings) for the Yomiuri Giants and Nippon Ham Fighters were enough in the eyes of two of Boston's best and hardest-working evaluators. But this? All-Star? A postseason run of 9 2/3 scoreless innings to get to closer/Riverdancer Jonathan Papelbon?

The first sentence of this paragraph is one of those Gammons sentences that should come with a road map. Try reading it, and you get lost. What is the reason introduced by the "because" and what is "given"? This would be partly solved by inserting the missing comma after "because," but it's still a mess. Also, it took me several readings to figure out, for instance, that "Jon Deeble" and "Craig Shipley" (more name-dropping from Gammons) probably are "two of Boston's best and hardest-working evaluators." Why not just stick that description in a clause right after the names, which Gammons' readers are overwhelmingly likely not to have heard before? Finally, Gammons puts the bulk of what he wants to say here in a super-long subordinate clause (and in another subordinate clause within that), a classic no-no.

The last sentence in this paragraph is also awkward. The run of 9 2/3 scoreless innings was not "to get to closer/Riverdancer Jonathan Papelbon." His role generally, in each of his outings, is to get to Papelbon, but the streak is his own. And the fact that his innings are "to get to" Papelbon is irrelevant in this context. Also, I read this blog entry for the first time yesterday, and I am 99% sure that the word "Riverdancer" was not originally in there. In other words, Gammons (or someone) did edit his article... to add yet another reference to yet another piece of Red Sox asininity. I can picture Gammons eating a lobster taco and suddenly slapping his forehead, exclaiming, "Oh man! I put in Papelbon's name without referencing his priceless, hilarious dancing antics!" God, I hate the Red Sox (more on this below).

Anyway, back to the Gammonsness:

[some quotes and not-good-but-not-horrible writing]

Francona and Farrell have a lot to do with this, as Okajima and Papelbon are throwing better in October than at any time during the season. They preserved Papelbon. They saw Okajima start to wear down at the end of July (hence the deal for Eric Gagne), and when he tired and had a 7.26 ERA after Aug. 10 they sat him down for 12 days in September to rest and rejuvenate his shoulder. As the rest given to Josh Beckett during the season might have cost him the Cy Young but gained him historic October stature, so the way Papelbon and Okajima were handled is a significant part of their 17 1/3 innings of postseason shutout relief. Mix in the ever-dependable Mike Timlin, and what has evolved into Boston's bullpen troika has thrown 21 2/3 innings this October with 10 hits, 20 strikeouts and no runs.

Just read that first sentence. What is "this"? Have a lot to do with what? I assumed, based on the way English writing works outside Gammons Land, that "this" referred to what came before, which was some some stuff on Okajima's stats during the entire regular season and how surprising they were. So how is his throwing better in October than at any time during the season (which is, by the way, probably untrue), a reason or explanation of Francona and Farrell's role in Okajima's season stats? This badly written sentence made the entire paragraph confusing, because I was waiting for an explanation of how Francona and Farrell helped Okajima pitch far better during the whole season than anyone could have expected. This never comes. Then, after a couple readings, it became apparent that the first sentence is just ass-backwards. Okajima is throwing well in October because Francona and Farrell have handled him well. This is exactly the opposite of how Gammons confusingly and ambiguously opened the paragraph and a completely different point than the one made by everything written previously. Of course, the rest of the paragraph is also confusing because it features more irrelevant clauses and clumsy sentence structure ("what has evolved into...").

No-hit wonder Clay Buchholz is 23, and as 23-year old Craig Hansen seemingly rediscovered himself at the end of the Pawtucket season and in Arizona and 22-year old Justin Masterson shoots through the system, the Red Sox may have at least three more young power arms at their disposal at some point next season.

How awful is this sentence? "...AND AS Hansen did some stuff at the end of the Pawtucket season AND in Arizona AND Masterson bla bla, finally, the point, the Red Sox have some arms." That's a loose quote, but you get what I'm saying. Also, here's another jarring shift in tenses, from "rediscovered" to "shoots." Then the next sentence reminds us why this blog is called "Edit Peter Gammons:"

They'll also expect that Matsuzaka will be much better with a year's adjustment, as if 15 wins, 204 2/3 innings and 201 strikeouts is Burkettesque.

"They'll" has to be "they," right? They will expect? Why aren't they expecting it yet? Is Gammons just that much smarter than "they" are (we can assume "they" are Boston's brass, although this paragraph started off talking about just Epstein)? This is probably just a typo, but Gammons' writing is FULL of this stuff, why isn't anyone proofreading him? Even excellent writers need proofreading, and Gammons is certainly far from excellent.

OK, it doesn't make sense: the delivery without so much as a peek at catcher Jason Varitek, the pitch he unveiled in a batting cage, the need to pat the bullpen's stuffed parrot before entering every Fenway game.

Here we go again. What's "it"? Again, after reading the whole paragraph, I realize that he's probably referring to what comes afterwards; but he lists three things that "don't make sense" about Okajima and his success, so why the singular? Clearly, this should say, "Okay, so some things about Okajima don't make sense..."

All it does is make the Red Sox winners of 105 games, leave them two victories from their second world championship since 2004 and Hideki Okajima a cult hero.

Here's a weirdly dumb thing that pops up not just in Gammons' writing, but in sports writing in general -- this "all it does is..." construct. Where, outside sports announcing and sports writing, do you see people write or talk like this? I guess it's a sort of cliched sarcasm -- normally we say "all it does..." when it doesn't do much, so sportswriters say it sarcastically when it actually does a LOT. Clever, guys!

Then he finishes off the blog with this anecdote:

How much a cult hero? A young couple from Oregon was telling people at Logan Airport on Thursday morning that the husband's birthday present from his wife was tickets to the last four Red Sox games at Fenway, which turned out to be four wins. "You're the wife of the year," a security agent told her. Then, noticing that she is very much pregnant, asked, "boy or girl?" "A boy," she replied, "to be named Hideki."

Gammons seems to think we should admire this as part of all that warm, fuzzy, and deep love of Red Sox Nation (gag) for their team. But isn't this in fact just weird and a little pathetic? Which brings me to this: one of my main motivations in starting this blog at this point of time is the nauseating level of bandwagon-jumping and media-love associated with the Red Sox currently. And at the center of all this nonsense is Boston man Peter Gammons. The Yankees, of course, also get too much attention, but much of it is (justifiably) negative. With the Red Sox, we are assaulted with all this schmaltzy "Red Sox Nation," "Big Papi," "oh-aren't-they-just-priceless" crap. They're not priceless, they're damn annoying. Manny is an ass, Schilling is a narcissist, and Papelbon is a ham and a douchebag. They're the mini-Yankees, with a nearly-as-bloated payroll and more assholes. For full disclosure, I guess I should mention that I'm an Indians fan. But I dare you, non-Masshole reader, to argue with me.

*edit: In his blog entry, Gammons makes much of the fact that Okajima doesn't look at the catcher before pitching. Fortunately, Fox loves showing us extreme closeups of pitchers, especially Red Sox pitchers, so I looked for this in tonight's game. Okajima looks towards first UNTIL just before he pitches, when he does look towards the plate. This is not remarkable. Many pitchers pitch this way routinely when there is a speedy runner on first. Of course, most of them don't do this with nobody on. But the point is it's not "amazing" that Okajima does this per se; it's just a little odd. Also, two other of Gammons' statements have been somewhat flouted by reality in the last 2 games: 1) Okajima's "piece de resistance" change-up that Gammons fawns over was hammered twice for homers that each put the Rocks within one run of Boston; and 2) Okajima, while still pitching pretty well, is clearly not pitching "better than at any point this season," when around the all-star break he had a microscopic ERA under 1.

Arbitrary Archive Entry I!

Hello everybody, and welcome to everybody's favorite game! That's right, it's Arbitrary Archive Entry time, wherein I don't select the Gammons column until the post has already started. I still don't know to which entry I will be taking my figurative red pen. Everybody ready? Well, in the words of Hawk Harrelson, the White Sox TV play-by-play announcer, let's cinch it up and hunker down, because here it comes. (I'm too lazy to research this myself, but has anybody started a blog or website that collects, records, and provides a glossary for all of the ridiculous antiquated baseball expressions that Harrelson uses, like "duck snort" and "hang wiff 'em"? Because all five of us White Sox fans sorely need one.)

I think for this first installment of AAE, I will select the blog entry closest to my birthday, March 29. Please hold while I process this request.

And we've got a winner!

First of all, I strongly urge you to read the entire column, for the following reason. Remember when you wrote your very first five-paragraph essay in fifth grade, and your teacher told you that you couldn't change back and forth from past tense to present tense when referring to the same period of time? Well, I think Gammons was absent that day. Try to count the number of times he unnecessarily switches tenses.

If you get bored of that, there are always some especially tortured sentences. To wit:

In a league that houses Santana, I got the most votes for potential Cy Young for Hernandez, Harden, Bedard and Beckett. In Carpenter's league, Webb, Sheets and Oswalt.

According to these rambling sentences, Peter Gammons himself is not only in the American League (the league that "houses" Santana), but he got the most votes for potential Cy Young!

Okay, fine, that's not what he meant. But those modifying prepositional phrases are so out of whack I couldn't help myself. All kidding aside, though, a classic example of Foist's point that you literally cannot discern Gammons's meaning shines through here. In that first sentence, is he expressing surprise that Santana didn't get as many votes as Hernandez, Harden, Bedard, and Beckett, by saying "In a league that houses Santana"? Or is he saying, here are the guys who got the most votes besides Santana, who rules and is obviously the leading vote-getter? In other words, did he say, "Besides Santana, name a potential Cy Young in the AL" or just "Name a potential Cy Young in the AL"? My head hurts trying to figure this one out.

Of course, this same problem exists in the second sentence, which asks the same question about the NL. In this case, it's arguably even more confusing, since the NL apparently is owned by Chris Carpenter. Not sure if that helps or hurts his chances at the Cy Young award.

Finally, I should point out that yet another ambiguity exists in that first sentence. Does he mean potential Cy Young award winners, or pitchers with the potential to be Cy Young? After all, there are two Cy Young award winners every year, but there is only one Cy Young. Also, there is only one October.

Here's another fun sentence, from the same entry:

And what if Justin Verlander feels the affects of a 50-percent increase in innings?

I know the statistics about what the youngsters these days know are pretty bleak, but doesn't every high-schooler get drilled into them the difference between "affect" and "effect"? (More on this later.) My old high school English teacher is currently turning in her grave. Unless she's not dead. In any case, thanks for continuing to confuse kids everywhere, Gammons.

Speaking of confusing, how about that blanket "50-percent increase in innings" statement? When was this increase? Was it from '05 to '06? From the minors to the majors? From high school to college? Is he projecting a 50-percent increase for this coming year? QUALIFY YOUR STATEMENTS. IT IS NOT DIFFICULT.

Here's a parting shot, since this is how we play Arbitrary Archive Entry.

Ask "who was the best pitcher you saw all spring?" or "who could win the Johan Santana Award?" (heretofore called the Cy Young) and one received a myriad of answers.

I think when Peter was a little boy, he asked his dad for a bike, and his dad gave it to young Peter and said, "Ask and one shall received". That's the only way that older Peter could think that this sentence makes any sense. I also find it amusing that Peter would rename the Cy Young award after somebody who, in the 51-year history of the award, has won it twice. And if you argue that he's just saying that Santana is the prohibitive favorite, look at the next sentence. He names seven other pitchers as likely candidates. Prohibitive, my butt.

Again, why are these horrible sentences slipping through the cracks? Let's start bouncing some theories around, shall we? My first one is most definitely a crackpot one, but I like it. I say that when Gammons got "hospitalized" last year, it was really just a contract dispute that he had with ESPN, and he was threatening to leave ESPN and join the Best Damn Sports Show Period For Sure Like Ever as a baseball correspondent and weatherman. After much negotiation, Gammons agreed to return to ESPN only if his pieces were published completely unedited. ESPN, not wanting to lose its most revered columnist, acquiesced.

Finally, going back to my point about high school kids knowing the difference between "affect" and "effect". The fact that teachers constantly drill into kids, "Affect is a verb, while effect is a noun" would seem to be a positive thing, but it has its drawbacks; namely, the fact that "affect" is also a noun and "effect" is also a verb. Their meanings in those cases are different, of course, but the problem arises when somebody sees a sentence that correctly uses "affect" as a noun, recalls the stupid fact he was forced to memorize fifteen years ago, and blurts out, "Hey! Affect is a verb, stupid!" And so the teachers have accomplished nothing. This phenomenon also arises a lot with the whole "Foist and I" thing. Teachers and parents tell their kids always to say, "Foist and I". This is absurd. I hear adults, seemingly educated, routinely spewing sentences like, "My boss gave Kathy and I a raise." Really? My boss gave I a raise? You're okay with this? YOU SOUND LIKE A MORON.

Okay, I'm finished. For now.

Hello

Good intro, Joist, I just have some additional thoughts.

We're not perfect writers. We'll probably make a bunch of grammatical mistakes in our posts. And we don't expect Gammons to be some kind of perfect grammar machine, ready to ace a 7th-grade quiz. The Gammons we yearn for -- let's call him Fantasy Gammons -- is a writer with Gammons's scoops, Gammons's insight, Gammons's experience, and Gammons's baseball knowledge who can convey all this goodness to us in a comprehensible form, perhaps entertaining us a bit along the way. The original point of writing is to convey an idea, and Gammons routinely fails to do this. Half the time, I just have no frickin' clue what he's trying to say.

Take, for example, Joist's 2nd example. This sentence isn't just bad because it breaks a bunch of abstract rules; it's ultimately bad because you're left with NO IDEA what he is saying. I take it the team "riding shotgun down the avalanche" is the Phillies, because this is the team to which the Mets blew their lead (take notes, Peter). Okay, we figured that much out. But what is he trying to say with this shotgun-riding-avalanche thing? I'm picturing Jamie Moyer effortlessly balancing himself on a snowboard, riding an avalanche while skeet-shooting. It's not easy, but I'm picturing it. What does this metaphoric image tell me about the Phillies? Or the Mets? Or snowboarding? I have no idea.

Usually, when people mix metaphors, they're just being redundant, and both metaphors just mean the same thing. Not Gammons. He'll throw completely contradictory, unrelated metaphors and ideas into that strange concoction he calls a sentence.

Again, I just want to know what Gammons is saying. I want to know whether the Mets will try to sign six more 45-year-old pitchers with broken arms for next season, and if anyone can tell me, Gammons can. But no such luck.

Welcome to Edit Peter Gammons!

Welcome to Edit Peter Gammons!

Let us start by saying that we dearly love Peter Gammons. His insight into, and insider knowledge of, the game of baseball is second to none, and we suspect that he knows about upcoming trades before the participating GMs do. You've heard this all before. Because he's won awards, everybody loves him, and he was really sick last year, he's basically off-limits to any blogger or critic who desires to say negative things about sports journalists.

So why did we create this blog? Well, like anybody else who writes a blog, we think that what we have to say is important, and in some way unique. (Given the number of blogs that exist, we doubt that this is always, or even usually, true, but that's a whole other post.) The bottom line is, both Foist and I have been reading Gammons' blog entries and, prior to that, his columns, for some time now. Every time he writes anything, we have a conversation about how utterly incomprehensible the majority of his sentences are, sentences supposedly written in English.

Those of you with only a passing knowledge of English grammar and syntax (which, sadly, make up the vast majority of Americans) are right now staring at the screen, wondering where these assholes get off taking shots one of the most respected journalists of the past 50 years. Those of you who can distinguish between participial phrases and prepositional phrases and haven't been turning a blind eye to everything Gammons-related are probably nodding your heads, waiting and waiting for this blog to come along.

Before we go any further, allow us to offer to those non-believers among you some samplings of the works we will be skewering:

10/24: On the one hand, there is Troy Tulowitzki, built like Cal Ripken or even a young Troy Glaus, 6-foot-3, with 23-home run power, a gun for an arm and underestimated athleticism that got him 130 more chances than any other shortstop in baseball -- such athleticism that two teams that do defensive data claim the difference between Tulowitzki and the second-best defensive shortstop this season was greater than the difference between No. 2 and No. 9.

You might accuse us of combing two, three, maybe four sentences into one, but we can assure you that this is a direct quote, and it's supposed to be one sentence. If I had attempted to submit this sentence in my term paper for Mr. Kaufman in eleventh grade, he would have drawn a big X over the entire thing and written "Wommy," which, when translated from his awful handwriting into actual English, would mean "Wordy". Additionally, the use of a dash to combine these sentences is a classic cop-out. The dash is saying to the world, "I'm here because Gammons doesn't know how to use a semicolon, transitional words, or dependent clauses."

Again, we're not mocking the content of Gammons' writing; he's making a decent point, if not an earth-shattering one. Instead, to borrow a classic Gammons construction, "it is the writing that is what is bothering us." (Note: this construction is bad.) In the future, we'll post quotes from various guides to essay writing, so that those of you who don't understand what makes the writing so terrible can enjoy the biting criticism.

What's that, you say? You want another example? Let's reach into the archives a bit, shall we?

10/3: The Mets "blew" a seven-game lead to a team that rode shotgun down the avalanche in September, a team from whom the Mets can look at and learn from.

Wow. All kinds of stuff to address here. Let's run down the list, shall we?

1. The Mets didn't "blow" the lead. They blew the lead. Maybe blew the lead. But why use quotes? Did they not actually blow it? Was he quoting somebody who only said the word "blew"? How did he know this somebody wasn't actually saying "blue"?
2. How do you ride shotgun down an avalanche? That is one of the worst mixed metaphors I've ever read. Gammons, by the way, mixes metaphors quite routinely. Pretty funny stuff.
3. This last clause is bad on so many levels. Let's reprint it.
...a team from whom the Mets can look at and learn from.
a. "From whom" should be "from which", since he's talking about a team. A team is comprised of people, but it is not in itself a person. Again, writing 101. The average Joe may not be aware of the distinction, but you'll have to pardon me for holding the Great Peter Gammons to a higher standard.
b. When I first saw this, I thought to myself, "Gammons should really know better than to end his sentence in a preposition." Then I saw that he actually put the preposition in the right place in addition to dangling it redundantly at the end of the sentence. It was like he thought that the first usage of "from" just didn't look right.* So he figured, oh, hell, I'll just throw it in there again. Couldn't hurt, right? After all, I'm the mighty Peter Gammons!
*c. It's possible that Gammons thought that the first "from" was wrong because it actually is wrong. Look again. "A team from whom the Mets can look at..." This clause actually becomes even worse when you delete the last three words, including the dangling preposition! Gammons is arguing that the Mets can "look at from" this other team, which for whatever reason he waits until the second sentence to name. Good God.

More to come.