His Reputation Precedes Him

Among other things, we've been documenting Shank's positive, constructive relations with professional athletes for over a decade, and have occasionally opined on our own local sports media from time to time to note their positive, constructive relations with professional athletes. So it should surprise no one when discussing the latter, the former gets a proforma mention:

If it’s Boston, it must mean a feud between a player and a member of the media. It’s gone on for years whether it was Ted Williams vs. the media, Carl Yastrzemski vs. the media, Bill Belichick vs. the media or Dan Shaughnessy vs. every player he’s covered. The latest edition of this feud has Boston Celtics point guard Isaiah Thomas vs. Comcast SportsNet New England host Gary Tanguay.

Isiah Thomas made this year's All-Star team, and Tanguay says he's not good enough to be a 'foundation player'? I realize you need at least three solid players to establish a championship level team, but saying this Isiah Thomas would not be one of them strikes this blogger as quite wrong, or stupid. That's the same level of stupid as Shank calling Hanley Ramirez and Pablo Sandoval "the most reviled local tandem" in local professional sports. In other words, QED.

One Hit Wonders

Shank writes a decent column reflecting on one-time memorable performances of professional athletes.

I’M NOT SURE MALCOLM BUTLER OR DAVE ROBERTS DRINK BEER, but I am sure of this one thing . . . 

They’ll never have to buy another beer in this town.

It’s what we always say. A guy makes a great catch, hits a big homer, or steals a series-saving base, and we say the same thing.

He’ll never have to buy a beer in this town again.

Bernie Carbo stopped drinking alcoholic beverages back in the 1990s, but he’s never going to have to a buy a beer in Boston because he hit one of the biggest homers in Red Sox history when, while pinch-hitting with two outs in the eighth, he drove a Rawley Eastwick cut fastball into the center-field bleachers to tie the sixth game of the epic 1975 World Series. Carbo’s blast set up the Carlton Fisk foul-pole shot — the Good Will Hunting moment that guaranteed that Pudge also would never again have to buy another beer in this town.

Clutter

A rational person would see this as an opportunity to make some money or donate it to a library (and get a charitable donation deduction in the process). Then there's this guy:

I am overwhelmed by stuff. I’ve been a sports fan for more than a half-century, and a professional sportswriter for 40 years. I look around my home office and see book posters, press passes, boxes of old newspapers, and stacks of media guides from, BC, BU, Harvard, and Holy Cross. I am drowning in a sea of C’s, B’s, Sox, and Pats publications. I am the Hub Hardball History’s episode of “Hoarders.’’

It’s difficult to throw stuff away.

But I’m trying.

The New York Times last week stated that household decluttering has become a national obsession. A book entitled “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up’’ has lived on the bestseller list, so I spent a couple of vacation days trying to comply. My neighborhood’s trash/recycling day is Thursday, and I’ve pledged to place overfilled bins and barrels on the curb. This is not easy when you’ve spent more than 40 years covering sports for newspapers.

How to best proceed with this triage of trivia, trinkets, and tradition?

How about the shit I just mentioned, ya freakin' moron?

The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves

No criticism too small for Our Man Shank:

Um, rookie outfielder?

Feel The Excitement!

Looks like they couldn't find anybody else to be the fifth wheel...

UPDATE, at 3:20 PM - Judging from that picture, it looks like Shank's turning into the Gray Jheri Curl...

The Star Attraction?

Shank's hitting the lecture circuit tomorrow night:

DEVENS -- Boston Globe sports columnist Dan Shaughnessy will speak about sports and the nature of his job at a fundraiser for the Fort Devens Museum on Monday evening.

Shaughnessy, a Groton native, is expected to discuss the disappointing end to the Bruins season and the start of the Red Sox slate.

The fundraising event takes place at 7 p.m., at the Devens Common Center, 31 Andrews Parkway, next to SpringHill Suites by Marriott, off Jackson Road. Tickets are $30, with proceeds going to the nonprofit museum about Camp Devens and Fort Devens.

Guests will also be invited to bid for several items at a silent auction, including a weekend cottage getaway, a trifecta of fine wines, and an oil change and tire rotation at Gervais Ford in Ayer. A cash bar and free hors d'oeuvres will be available. Piano renditions will be played by retired Army musician Vaughn Gibson.

Tickets are available online at www/fortdevensmuseum.org or by mail or in person at the Museum, 94 Jackson Road, Suite 305, Devens, MA 01434, or reserve your place by calling 978-772-1286.

The winning bid will be a night out with Shank. Second place will be two nights out with Shank...

Name That Columnist!

Boston Red Sox DH David Ortiz is not too happy with past and present efforts to label him a cheater with respect to performance enhancing drugs (PED's). This being the age of the Internet, he fires back.

Further down the column he describes an encounter with a 'reporter' two years ago. It doesn't take Albert Einstein to figure out who the 'reporter' is (with an awesome new nickname for You Know Who):

In 2013, I came off the DL and started hot. My first 20 games I was hitting like .400. And the reporter with the red jheri curl from The Boston Globe comes into the locker room says, “You’re from the Dominican. You’re older. You fit the profile of a steroid user. Don’t you think you’re a prime suspect?”

He’s saying this with a straight face. I had taken like 70 at-bats. Anybody can get hot and hit .400 with 70 at-bats. I was stunned. I’m like, I’m Dominican? I fit the profile? Are you kidding me?

I wanted to kill this guy. But you can’t react. That’s what they want. They want you to get angry so they can bury you. So I just smiled at him and asked for his address.

“Why do you want my address?” he said. (that would be 58 Elmhurst Rd. in Newton - ed.)

“Because I just got tested two days ago.” I said. “I’ll mail you the f****ing results.”

This is a reporter from my own city coming to my locker and telling me I’m too good, that I must be on some shit. I’m sitting there thinking, Man, I get tested 10 times a year and I’ve helped win this town two World Series titles in 2004 and 2007 and this guy who has never played a game of professional baseball in his life is telling me I’m a suspect.

My test was clean just like the other 8 or 9 tests that season. My batting average settled down to .300, because of course it did. I hit like 30 home runs and we won the World Series. Was that acceptable for the reporter? Were my numbers too high for a player from the Dominican? Should I have taken another blood test before popping the damn champagne?

He never apologized.

Don't hold your breath waiting for one, Big Papi. You're definitely not the first guy he's tried to bury, and you won't be the last...

Insulting Tweets, By Dan Shaughnessy

The former Baltimore Orioles beat writer from 1977 to 1981, during the first reign of manager Earl Weaver, who somehow neglected or blew off an obituary on one of the more interesting and colorful baseball managers of all time, now has the balls to cite him in another passive-aggressive shot at Patriots coach Bill Belichick:

It's Shetland Pony Time Again

Shank showed up on the Bertrand & Zolak show a few days ago to take his annual dump on Kentucky basketball coach John Calipari.

File this under Slow News Week...

No Shot Too Cheap For Shank

A fortnight after the New England Patriots won the Super Bowl, Shank has an unanswered question:

Shank conveniently omits these follow-up questions:

Q. You stumbled after that play, but you stayed in the game. Does that mean you were not injured?

A. Next question.

Q. Were you tested for a concussion?

A. I went through all the protocols.

Here is a discussion of NFL concussion protocols. It looks to me that if Edelman failed the protocols, he would not have been allowed back in the game.

Better luck next time, Shank!

Failing Logic 101

Danny Boy has a 'brilliant' observation about the recent onslaught of global warming in the Boston area:

He'd have a point, if Boston was going to host the 2024 Winter Olympics.

Dork.

Circus Comes To Town

Guess who's in Glendale, Arizona? It's some white guy with his left arm in a sling:

These Are Not The Experts You're Looking For

It's apparent now that Shank has successfully leveraged Twitter to deploy trolling Jedi mind tricks:

Questions Posed

This member of Fanboy Nation sure as hell was relaxed and enjoyed watching the Patriots take care of business tonight. Well, aside from yelling at the TV set for most of the game!

Which brings up the first question - if being a member of 'Fanboy Nation', as Shank so elegantly puts it, is bad, isn't being a Patriot Hater equally worthy of scorn, ridicule and mockery? Just take a look at Shank's Twitter feed during the game; it's fair to say that the tweets & retweets are not Patriot friendly. More amusing is to read the follow-up comments - Shank doesn't have many friends in the Twitterverse! Basically Shank loves to be hated.

Also note that he stopped tweeting around the time the Pats were making their second run from a 14 point deficit in the third quarter. Now that's a fair weather Patriot Hater for you!

The other question - what kind of a column are we getting from him tomorrow? The call here - one with a great deal of criticism.

Passive-Aggressive Behaviour Perfected

If you think about it for a minute or so, it becomes self-evident why Shank stopped robo-tweeting a few months ago.

Step 1 - write a column whose sole purpose is to antagonize and provoke as many New England Patriots fans (and players, coaching staff, management and ownership) as possible. Why do you think that the comments for that column have been disabled?

Step 2 - sit back and watch 'Fanboy Nation' react and criticize your column.

Step 3 - blast out the above tweet further provoking 'Fanboy Nation' as though your column had nothing to do with their reaction, thus implying that 'Fanboy Nation' is / are just a bunch of angry yahoos.

Either some told him, or he figured out on his own, that Twitter can be leveraged for this very sort of thing. Fucking genuis, really.

Here's hoping some member of 'Fanboy Nation' doesn't figure out what car Shank's taking to the game this afternoon and slashes a few tires as it sits in the parking lot...

Deep Thoughts, By Dan Shaughnessy

Brace yourself for some serious inanities, ladies and gentleman - it looks like Shanks Twitter feed has stopped robotweeting, and has become self-aware. Just like Skynet, but in reverse!

I just took a stroll through his Twitter feed, and I feel dirty and dumber for it it looks like the robotweeting stopped some months ago. Contrary to Shank's propaganda, some of us 'blogboys' who don't live in mom's basement have jobs & mortgages and shit, so we don't have time to savor the finer things in life, like the barrel of fish that his feed provides.

For example:

Aside from the actual final score, he was right on! This tweet is posted in one form or another every damn week. He also mentions 'tomato can' in nearly the same frequency. I think they used to teach you in journalism school not to be repetitive. He must have been out on one of his grueling one mile runs that day.

To further illustrate Shank's occasional foray into rank unprofessionalism with respect to the Kraft family, here's Shank retweeting (i.e., endorsing) some literally childish notions about them, including one by a fellow Boston Globe employee:

Stay classy, Shank! And you too, KPD!

An Early Christmas Present From DSW To Shank

The next time you want to rip a local professional athlete, here's how you do it.

You're welcome, and Merry Christmas!

Today's Secret Ingredient Is - Free Food!

Alternate title - Comic Relief!

Some of you may know that the 'Top Chef' show has been in the Boston area in recent months. At some point, they held court at Fenway Park, where one of the judges is none other than Our Man Shank!

If it's free, it's for me!

The e-mail arrived in my in-box in the middle of May. A fellow named Chris wanted to know if I could join the “Top Chef” judges for a lunchtime taping at Fenway Park over the weekend. They already had booked Dennis Eckersley and they were looking for another person familiar with Boston baseball.

I can do that, I figured.

I know all about Fenway.

I know how to eat.

That's what we hear, Mr. One Mile Run...

I checked with my 28-year-old daughter Kate, a high school English teacher who is something of a reality TV buff. A couple of weeks earlier, Kate had mentioned that “Top Chef” might be shooting its upcoming season in Boston. This seemed to be a very big deal to her. When I casually mentioned the invitation, my smart, mature daughter reacted as if I’d been asked to join the Rolling Stones on stage at their next concert.

Ahhh, still dating ourselves, are we?

“Are you kidding me?’’ asked Kate. “You have to do that! That’s the coolest thing ever! Tell them ‘yes’ and then find out who is going to be there!’’

OK. I called Chris and told him I could tape the show. I asked him who was going to be at the table with Eck and me and he started rattling off names. Padma. Tom. Hugh. Ming. Blais. The names meant nothing to me, but when I relayed them to Kate it had the effect of someone telling me they were going to sing with Mick, Keith, John, Paul, and Janis. Clearly, these “Top Chef” judges are the rock stars of food tasting.

Except these 'rock stars' aren't dead or collecting Social Security cheques.

On Sunday, May 25, Kate and her husband accompanied me to the show’s taping at Fenway.

“Top Chef” is top secret. Show representatives repeatedly reminded us that we couldn’t talk about anything until the episode aired (Oct. 29 at 10 p.m. on Bravo). There was to be no tweeting, no Facebooking, and no casual conversation of this day. We had to sign a confidentiality agreement; any breach would put us at risk of paying a Dr. Evil-esque penalty of “ONE MILLION DOLLARS.’’

Forget the million bucks; missing out on free food would probably make Shank wire his own mouth shut.

...

We met the big shot judges and they were all very nice. Tom is from New Jersey and knows a lot about sports. Hugh is a Montreal Canadiens fan and wanted to know where he could safely watch a Habs playoff game on TV in Boston. (nowhere! - ed.) I recommended Post 390, because it has great food and it was near his hotel. Padma was tall and friendly. She had a lot of questions about sports and said she’d been asked on dates by a couple of the New York Yankees.

“Jeter? A-Rod?’’ I wondered.

She wouldn’t say.

Of course it's Jeter! Come on, will ya?

It didn’t matter to me. Even if Padma dished about the famous Yankees, I couldn’t write about it because of . . . ONE MILLION DOLLARS.

Just before noon, we started our taping in the third base dugout. We paraded up the steps and strode toward our elegant table on the warning track, directly in front of the Green Monster. We had assigned seats — mine was across from Tom and next to Padma. Color me happy. A little nervous with the cameras rolling, I neglected to pull out Padma’s chair when we seated ourselves.

Such an inconsiderate cad. No Padma date for you!

Now here's the really funny part:

Then came the parade of chefs from the visitors dugout. Three at a time. Carrying all forms of meatballs, peanut sauces, ribs, duck, and pork bellies. They all seemed pretty nervous.

Tom, Hugh, Ming, Blais, and Padma were pretty rough on the contestants.

Not me.

I couldn’t bring myself to insult the anxious young chefs. Call me crazy, but ripping professional ballplayers comes easily compared with this. Who accepts a dinner invitation, then insults the host or hostess?

Because they're professional food assholes. Shank's a professional sports asshole. That's the difference.

Tune into Bravo tomorrow night at 10:00, everybody!

Shank On 98.5 The Sports Hub

Just wanted to note that Shank was filling in for Michael Felger on the Felger / Mazz afternoon show this week. I listened for a few minutes yesterday and today, but since I was driving, I turned it off after a few minutes because I couldn't risk falling asleep while behind the wheel...

Changeup

Shank takes a break from bashing and second guessing the local professional sports teams and avoids the grueling commute from Newton to Morrissey Boulevard to profile Newton North's Joe Siciliano:

Tuesday afternoon at the corner of Hull Street and Lowell Avenue in Newton, 67 year-old Joe Siciliano ran baseball practice — just as he has done every May weekday since 1987.

Putting his guys through base-running and relay drills, Siciliano looked as enthusiastic as Pete Carroll on the sideline with the Seahawks in Super Bowl XLVIII. The old gray coach was laughing, grimacing, and gesturing nonstop. He was pumped and jacked as his teenage ballplayers went about their business with purpose and pleasure. A boring fundamental drill was somehow worthwhile and fun as the Tigers prepared for Game 1 of the inaugural Super 8 tournament. Top-seeded North (19-1) opens at home Wednesday afternoon against Catholic Memorial.

Joe Siciliano. Everyman. Teacher, coach, groundskeeper, grandfather, baseball lifer, sculptor of young souls. Every town should have one.

Here's the interesting part, at least for me:

[Disclosure: My son played four seasons for Joe Siciliano from 2003-06.]

I met with one of my clients in Newton a few months ago during tax season. I mentioned DSW to him, and he mentioned the fact that he used to coach kids in baseball some years ago. While he didn't mention if he was coaching at Newton North or whether it was Pony League, Babe Ruth or some other organized baseball, he did mention one of the kids by name - Sam Shaughnessy. Nearly every parent gave my client their condolences, thinking Shank was going to be a typically overbearing parent, demanding his kid play center field, or whatever. As it turns out, it was the complete opposite - Shank was cool as a cucumber, nice as pie, didn't yell or scream, etc. A pleasant surprise!