Red Sox Report: Week 1

The Red Sox opening week has been a rollercoaster of emotions for fans. They are currently 2-3 going into Sunday night’s game, but overall, things look good. There is no bloody sock on Schilling’s ankle and Dice-K looked phenomenal.


Matsuzaka looked like the 103 million dollar man that the Red Sox made him this off-season in his first major league start. He struck out 10 in seven innings and only allowed one run. The Kansas City Royals were baffled by his pitches, which resembled a whiffle ball on a windy day. Some Red Sox pitchers did not have this same success in their first starts.

Curt Schilling’s first start left much to be desired when he pitched only four innings and surrendered five runs. This disappointing opening day start marks the sixth consecutive time that the Red Sox have lost on opening day. Schilling will start Sunday night against the Texas Rangers.

Josh Beckett and Tim Wakefield both added excellent starts this week. After week one the Red Sox starting rotation has two wins and three losses with a 4.61 ERA.

The Red Sox line up had difficulty producing this week, averaging fewer than four runs a game. Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz had slow weeks, and you can expect that when they start hitting the runs will follow.

Overall the first week was disappointing, but there were glimpses of brilliance.

First week grade- C

Opening Day Glory

Tom Glavine toes the rubber and glares in at the catcher. He nods, and sets for his windup. The batter is digging in, kicking the dirt like he is trying to get gum off his shoe. The whole stadium is silent. Waiting. Anticipating. Glavine winds up and whips the ball over the outside corner of the plate…STREEEIKE 1! A new Season has begun.

It is opening day, the greatest day of the sports year. The grass is cut in elegant designs and is waving joyously in the soft breeze. The stadiums are packed and throbbing with intensity. It is a new beginning. Hope is a not a lingering scent in the air, but a reality that everyone can grasp. The excitement in palpable.

Baseball is not a sport; it is a way of life. A religion; a creed to live by. This is baseball. The great American past time.

There is truly nothing better than going to the ballpark, whether it is the Damn Yankees or the beloved Red Sox. There are few things in this world that compare to walking down Yawkey Way and entering Fenway Park for the first time. The Green Monster looms over the field ominously and the green walls make it appear as though the stadium arose out of the ground centuries ago. The famous Coke Bottle atop the green monster stands porter between the stadium and the real world. It is a magical place, where history is thickly intertwined with the present.

This is why Baseball is great; the rich history, which follows us into every season; the records, which ache to be broken. The myths, and the truths, the legacies. For baseball is all about remembering the past, remembering Kirk Gibson’s epic homerun, or the hit heard world round. And it makes sense, for what is the present and future without the past? Nothing.