First pitch of first importance

First pitch of first importance

Friday, October 19, 2007
Terry Pluto
Plain Dealer Columnist

What may be the key for Fausto Carmona in Game 6 at Fenway Park on Saturday night? How about strike one, as in getting ahead in the count. When the Tribe star was knocked out after four innings in Game 2 at Boston, he walked five and was charged with four runs in those four innings. Carmona averaged slightly under three walks per nine innings in the regular season, but in Boston he was at strike one on only 10 of 24 hitters. He needs to change that strategy.

First pitches are important. In the two best games pitched by the Tribe this series, Paul Byrd and Jake Westbrook combined to throw first-pitch strikes to 37 of 48 hitters they faced. Boston hitters love to take the first pitch, as they took swings at only 13 of 48 pitches.

In games 1 and 2, C.C. Sabathia (13-of-24) and Carmona (10-of-24) also faced 48 hitters, but they were only 23-of-48 and that's why neither survived the fifth inning. While Sabathia was not sharp Thursday, he was much better as he threw 20 of 28 first-pitch strikes. It helped him get through six innings, allowing two runs. That should have been it for the lefty, but it wasn't.

Second guess: It was a gamble by Eric Wedge to have Sabathia start the seventh. Boston had a 2-1 lead. Sabathia was at 106 pitches to start the seventh. Then Dustin Pedroia led off with a double. At this point, Wedge has to bring in Rafael Betancourt. At-bat was Kevin Youkilis, who had homered off Sabathia in the first inning and was 5-of-13 against the Tribe ace. But Wedge stayed with Sabathia, and Youkilis ripped a triple to right center. In the end, Sabathia threw 112 pitches and was charged with four runs. He was tired after six innings of working out of one jam after another, and with a rested bullpen, it was risky to stay with him any longer.

Anyone who spends more than five seconds thinking about a single syllable coming from the mouth of Manny Ramirez would be better off studying a script from "SpongeBob SquarePants" or your favorite cartoon. Who do you think this guy is - Winston Churchill? Meanwhile, Ramirez owns Sabathia, as he's 16-of-25 - as in a .640 batting average with four homers.

Why start Franklin Gutierrez in right field, even though he came into the game 1-of-5 with three strikeouts against Josh Beckett? And knowing Beckett has a nasty curve, which really can hurt Gutierrez? That's because Gutierrez is an elite outfielder. He threw out Ramirez at the plate in the first inning. Yes, the throw was high and Manny didn't slide - sliding is against his constitution. But it still was a strong throw, and it ended what could have been a big Boston inning.

The Indians became the first team this season to face three consecutive Boston starters without any of them finishing the fifth inning. The Tribe knocked out Curt Schilling, Daisuke Matsuzaka and Tim Wakefield in the fourth inning. That ended Thursday night as Josh Beckett pitched eight innings.

It's amazing how Coco Crisp looks so lost. The former Indian couldn't even get a bunt down in the fourth inning. He had 13 sacrifice bunts in 2005, his last year with the Tribe. He had nine this season. Crisp has hit .266 and averaged seven homers and 48 RBI for Boston. Some people close to the Red Sox say he never has been extremely comfortable with the team whereas he seemed to love playing for the Tribe. In this series, Crisp is 3-of-21 for a .143 mark. In the postseason he is 5-of-31, .161.

Yes, there was a chance for the Indians to make history, but alas, this is Cleveland and. . . . well. . . . you know what happened. The Indians did win the 1920 World Series at home. But they have never won a playoff series or clinched the American League pennant here. According to research by attorney David Hooker, the Tribe clinched the 1920 and 1954 AL pennants in Detroit. They won the 1948 pennant in Boston. The 1995 pennant was won in Seattle, and in 1997 it was in Baltimore. Now, the Tribe will have to do it in Boston this weekend.

The Dream is Back

The dream is back

Here's hoping Indians take road rarely traveled Monday, October 15, 2007
Mike McIntyre
Plain Dealer Reporter

A decade ago, when baseball in October hadn't been explored by a team of Cleveland ers in 40 years, we looked down to marvel at our own footprints like Neil Armstrong marking the lunar dust.

One small step for man, one giant monkey off our back.

Our footprints in 1995 formed a warpath as the Indians marched all the way to the sixth game of the World Series in Atlanta. Two years later, we retraced every step and added one more.

It was the seventh game of the '97 World Series and Cleveland stood at the champion's gates in balmy Miami. Victory was a baby step away.

But Indians pitcher Jose Mesa - carrying the hopes of a long-suffering city starved for a champion - fell through a trap door in the bottom of the ninth. Then Edgar Renteria, a shortstop for the Florida Marlins, used a wooden bat and a quick swat to smack Charlie Nagy through, too.

We all slid behind them like Alice down the rabbit hole.

It was not a wonderland. It wasn't even a wonder why land.

Why? Because we're Cleveland, that's why.

A year later, in 1998, the New York Yankees - that team we buggy-whipped last week - stopped the Indians in the sixth game of the American League Championship Series.

We hadn't returned to the ALCS since. Until now.

Nine years is long enough between walks.

Today, we find ourselves on another expedition, retracing our steps in newer, lighter shoes. Today, we stand on the ground we graced in 1997 as we returned from Baltimore tied 1-1 in the American League Championship Series, in the same footprint we had made in 1995 after escaping Seattle tied 1-1.

The Indians pulled themselves out of quicksand early Sunday morning. Now, the best-of-seven ALCS against the Boston Red Sox stands even at 1-1. Immediately ahead lie three games at home and countless potholes to avoid
We can see the World Series down the road again. It's not far now.

The town is marching in lock step, awakened by the prospect of winning baseball and by the palpable reality that the Indians might fulfill the hopes that the Cavaliers raised this year for a championship - finally, a championship - in Cleveland.

We don't need handheld GPS devices to guide us. We carry little gear - a television (high- def preferred), an old-fashioned radio, maybe a newfangled cell phone geared for instant updates. For the more fortunate, there are tickets to the games at Jacobs Field, which glows like an oasis in the autumn night.

It is not a mirage.

The town is dressed to kill the Red Sox. Kids and their parents wear T-shirts glorifying the new players, Grady Sizemore and C.C. Sabathia, and the old players, Albert Belle and Dennis Martinez, and, in some cases, both: Kenny Lofton.

He has - we have - been down this road before.

We know enough now to smell the roses along the way - each hit, each defensive gem, every clutch pitch a fragrant blossom. As each victory blooms, we know we are that much closer to arriving at that spot where Jose Mesa stood a decade ago.

When we get there, somebody tell pitcher Joe Borowski, the new guy who fills Mesa's former role as late-inning closer, to zig instead of zag.

Calling all Midges

Calling all Midges to pester the Red Sox
Monday, October 15, 2007
Michael Scott
Plain Dealer Reporter

Any chance we can bring those bugs back to Jacobs Field tonight?

Maybe they can do to Boston Red Sox starting pitcher Dice-K what they did to New York Yankees reliever Joba Chamberlain.

The American League Championship Series Game 3 battle against the Red Sox is the Indians' first home game since a stunning 2-1 victory over the Yankees on Oct. 5. That game will forever be remembered for the blinding, bothersome plague of Lake Erie insects that attacked and conquered the New Yorkers.

All of baseball America has been talking about it since.

The Associated Press referred to it as a "freakish invasion of gnats" - or the more clever "sacrifice flies."

The mosquito-like pests swarmed the brightly lit and unseasonably warm ballpark for only an inning or two and didn't bite, but they drove rookie pitcher Chamberlain nearly mad that night.

Who can forget the close-up shot of Chamberlain's chubby neck, crawling with dozens of the small, black bugs?

"I saw that shot on TV and said to my wife, 'Midges! There are midges swarming the field!' " said scientist Tom Nalepa, who studies the insects for the Great Lakes Environmental Research Laboratory.

Nalepa and Joe Keiper of the Cleveland Museum of Natural History noted that the TNT television crew that night incorrectly referred to the bugs as "Canadian Soldiers," a common name for mayflies, which come off the lake earlier in the summer and have interrupted ballgames in other years.

Nope. Call these guys Indian Summer Soldiers.

The midges - which develop as pupae in the lake, hatch and then fly off to mate - covered a distracted Chamberlain in the eighth inning. The Yankees hurler uncorked two wild pitches, allowing the Indians to tie a game they later won in extra innings.

Afterward, Yankees star Alex Rodriguez said he has "never seen anything like it."

Tribe third baseman Casey Blake dryly characterized them as "small pterodactyls."

The next day, the New York Daily News blasted a one-word headline summary: "Insecticide!"

The AP also asked: "Where was the Sultan of Swat when the Yanks really needed him?"

The loss apparently is still bothering Yankees fans.

On the team's official Web site, one fan insists that "the Indians gave the Yanks the wrong stuff" to spray on the insects.

Another fan claims the "bugs were released from the Indians dugout" in the fatal eighth inning.

Could it happen again tonight? Will the bugs be back?

Experts say the attack on the Yankees was by a rare fourth hatching of midges in an especially warm week in October, but Nalepa the science guy said not to rule out another swarm.

"It might not be warm enough this time," he said, noting that the game-time forecast tonight is for temperatures near 60 degrees. "That doesn't mean there aren't a few left out there, though.

"But maybe we won't need them to beat Boston."

Maybe, but it couldn't hurt.

Cleveland Indians' Kenny Lofton wants his world serious
Monday, October 15, 2007
Jodie Valade

Kenny Lofton was sitting at his locker, hidden behind the safety of a large pillar that conveniently blocks him from all the world, when the man Cleveland loves, the one whose name thousands at Jacobs Field chant every time he comes up to bat, gave a small peek at his personality.

Kenny was being Kenny.

A novice TV reporter who must not have heard about Lofton's reputation innocently asked how this American League Championship Series against the Boston Red Sox would be different than the Indians' divisional series against the Yankees, and what the Tribe needed to do to win.

"I've been asked this question before," Lofton sighed. His chiseled face hardened. His jaw clenched. "It's baseball," he continued, sounding exasperated. "You go out there and play baseball."

The player Cleveland loves, the outfielder who so desperately wants to win a championship for the city he has seen suffer, was simply reacting the way he always does whenever outsiders pry.

He was hard. He was prickly. He was distant. Except for the rare occasions when his face brightens as he crosses home plate or slaps another two-out, run-scoring hit, this is the Kenny Lofton the player projects for his adoring fans to see: brusque, standoffish, succinct.

If you're not a teammate or family member, you don't know Lofton - and even if you are, you probably don't know that much. You might not know about Lofton's penchant for dancing, or his fondness for hip-hop music, or how he loves to crack jokes with such a wry humor and straight face that no one is sure whether to laugh or take him seriously. Or how he boasts about his self-proclaimed "World's Best Banana Pudding" that he makes for family gatherings.

Or how the most important guiding influence in his life, his grandmother, Rosie Person, has suffered from such severe Alzheimer's in the past three to four years that she often doesn't recognize the boy she raised. Or how Lofton's pain at watching what the illness has done is so deep that he won't talk about the woman he has called the "inspiration" in his life.

The Kenny Lofton that the left fielder shows the public is not the same Kenny Lofton those closest to him know. He likes it that way, keeping the world at a distance from his private life. Still, for all Lofton's outward hardness, this complex mix of determination and fallibility makes him precisely the kind of player Cleveland adores embracing. He is a reminder of some of the city's happiest times, a hard-nosed, hard-working athlete who at 40 still displays heart and desire, and above all else still strives for the one thing Cleveland covets, too.

A championship.

Total recall

Even now, more than two months after Lofton returned to Cleveland via a trade with the Texas Rangers, the fans at Jacobs Field can't stop. At first, every Lofton at-bat earned a standing ovation. Now, they rhythmically chant his name - "Ken-ny! Ken-ny!" - each time he strolls toward home plate.

"Maybe it's nostalgia," offered former NBA guard Steve Kerr, who played college basketball with Lofton at Arizona. "Maybe fans are nostalgic, and he's connecting that bridge between the last Indians run and the current one."

Back then, in the mid-'90s, the Tribe had a powerful offense led by Albert Belle, and a combustible locker room, also led by Belle. Lofton, too, sometimes had a hard edge, but he was the speedy leadoff hitter who was often called the best in the game at his job.

"It was almost guaranteed 1-0," Indians outfielder Jason Michaels recalled of watching Lofton's legendary success as the first batter.

He went to the Braves for a year and came back to the Tribe for four before leaving again after the 2001 season. Eight more teams and six years later, Lofton is no longer batting leadoff, but he's still slapping timely hits and zipping around the bases. Against New York, he tied Rickey Henderson's career playoff steals record. He's still fit and agile, a testament, he says, to never drinking or smoking, and to eating well. He's not sure how his speed now compares to his speed then.

"I can't compare that," Lofton said testily. "I don't have a clock. I'm just as fast."

He doesn't see any difference between the player he was for the Indians then, and the veteran he is for them now. Even if now he bats seventh, he plays left field instead of center, and he tells first-time playoff participants to "seize the moment" and savor every second of this experience.

"The bottom line is I tried to win then, and I'm trying to win now," Lofton said. "There's no different concept about what I'm trying to do."

His old college basketball teammate laughs at descriptions of Lofton's brisk attitude.

"The guy's a competitor," Kerr said. "He's just driven. . . . He's always had an edge about him and always had a chip on his shoulder - in a good way. He's always wanted to compete."

Part of that undoubtedly comes from his upbringing. Lofton's mother, Annie Lawson, was 14 when he was born. He was raised by his grandmother, Person, who had a gift for stretching food and money so that a little lasted a while. His childhood bedroom had a concrete floor and broken windows.

He went to Arizona on a basketball scholarship, played for coach Lute Olson, but his love remained baseball. When Olson organized friendly team softball games in the park, Lofton was just as intense as he was on the basketball court.

"They were picnic games, and he was out for blood," Kerr laughed
So now, after playing in the playoffs 11 times in the past 13 years, after playing in the World Series twice and still emerging without a title, Lofton has the same determined goal that Cleveland does in 43 years without a championship.

"I haven't won a ring yet, and I'm still trying to do it," Lofton said. "I'm trying to win."

Cleveland appreciates the single-minded focus so much that when Lofton's mother, Lawson, was at the ALDS against New York last week, fans begged for her autograph when they found out who her son was.

Important Person

Even if he can't see it, Lofton has changed. In smaller ways, like how he's somewhat softer and sometimes smiling in the spotlight. In bigger ways, like how he's less boisterous around family. His mother and grandmother both live in Cincinnati now, but only Lawson has been to visit since Lofton returned to Ohio. Person is too ill with Alzheimer's to travel.

"My inspiration is my grandmother," Lofton told the Chicago Tribune in 2003. "She is still the most instrumental person in my life. . . . She sacrificed for me, and I wanted to make her happy."

When asked about Person last week, Lofton stiffened.

"I don't like to talk about my family," he said softly, before an edge crept into his voice. "That's my personal space. I like to keep my personal space separate from what I do on the field."

His aunt, Nettie Collins, who still lives in Lofton's hometown of East Chicago, Ind., said her nephew has become more reserved in recent years as Person's Alzheimer's has worsened. At times, Collins said, Person won't recognize anyone around her. Sometimes she'll hear an announcer bellow Lofton's name on TV or the radio - Person lost her vision to glaucoma so she can only listen to games - and her face will brighten.

"It's hard on him," Collins said. "The last few years have affected him very deeply, but he's playing in spite of it. I think he keeps going because of her. He gets his momentum from her."

If succeeding for his grandmother drives Lofton, he won't talk about it. Personal life is off-limits. He talks instead about striving for a ring for himself and for Cleveland
"They've been through a lot of heartbreaks here, and they need a championship," Lofton said.

Teammates and coaches appreciate that fire, and that Lofton is one of the few players on this version of the Indians with playoff experience. It showed against the Yankees when he hit .375 and had four RBI in the AL Division Series.

"He's a big-game player," Indians manager Eric Wedge said. "He understands what it means to be playing at this time of year. He's a competitor on the field, he really digs in, and he plays with a sense of confidence and calm."

Left-hander C.C. Sabathia, one of Lofton's closest teammates, can't help but snicker when he's out to dinner with the outfielder and women just a little younger than the 27-year-old pitcher approach to ask for Lofton's autograph.

"Oooh! You were my favorite player when I was, like, 5 years old!" they often coo.

In public, Lofton is obliging and courteous. He'll sign autographs, and he'll talk to the fans who have embraced him and cheered for him and chanted his name since his return to Cleveland. To those who pry deeper, he's curt and short. That's just who he is.

"Kenny's got to be Kenny," Lawson said.

That's just the way Cleveland loves him.

--------------
Lofton's Grandmother was Listening

Bruce Jenkins
Cleveland

When Kenny Lofton was nine years old, he explained baseball to his grandmother off the sound of the television set. Rosie Person was nearly blind with Glaucoma, so she needed the help. When it came time for the seventh-inning stretch, Rosie and kenny would stand up. And if nobody else was around, the shy kid would sing "Take me out to the ballgame" along with her.

"My grandmother's a big reason I'm here today," says Lofton. "She gave me strength, taught me right from wrong, how to survive. She's still my biggest fan. And she's listening to every game."

As she listened last night, Rosie Person heard her grandson carrying the Cleveland Indians right back in the World Series. With a bitter wind howling in his face, a glory-starved crowd in an uproar and the formidable John Smoltz on the mound, Lofton stroked a first inning single to center and changed everything. The Indians weren't disappearing, after all. They just needed to get back home.

Not that Lofton ever knew the difference. He was the team's solo hero in Atlanta, scoring four runs and stealing three bases. Last night was just another moment on the stage:

Single and a run scored. Double and a run scored. Single. Walk. Steal of third, then another run scored on an infield hit. Intentional walk. And then another. On base all six times. Unstoppable.

The World Series has a way of humbling the game's heros. Ted Williams, Gil Hodges, Orlando Cepeda, Dave Winfield all felt the hurt. Conversely, there were men born for the stage: Roberto Clemente, Reggie Jackson, Joe Rudi, Johnny Bench. There isn't much time, so do it now. Kenny Lofotn is proving conclusively that he is one of those men. It isn't often that the leadoff man is walked intentionally with the game on the line. Atlanta manager Bobby Cox did that twice last night, because he refused to let Lofotn decide things.

Back in East Chicago, Ind., where Kenny grew up, the memories come flooding back for Rosie Person. The image of a tiny baby, born prematurely, so small that Kenny's mother was afraid she'd drop him. "His momma, her name is Annie, was just 14 when he was born," said Rosie, 68 in a recent interview. "kenny never knew his daddy. We don't know if he's dead or alive. It was one of those one-night stands.

"Annie wanted to go back to school, so she said to me,`I want you to keep Kenny Man.' I thought she was joking but she said,`No, he's yours.' And that's how he was treated from that day on."

Rosie's husband was long since gone, having died in 1960 from bronchial pneumonia. She was alone with little Kenny in a run-down neighborhood, the floor made of concrete, the windows cracked. When people ask Lofton today why he doesn't talk much, he answers, "It's probably the way I was brought up. We had nothing. And when we did get something -- a new toy, some new shoes, anything -- we protected it so no one messed it up."

Lofton played some baseball on the streets of East Chicago, but he was the charge of raw electricity on the basketball court. He entered one of Dick Vitale's slam-dunks contest at the University of Arizona and, at 5-foot-11, brought down the house.

It was only after that Junior season that Lofotn even attempted collegiate baseball, and he played just five games. But it was enough to catch the eyes of the Houston Astros, who made him a 17th round draft pick in 1988. He played 48 games of minor-league ball that summer, and while he hit just .214, his career goals suddenly changed.

"In the back of my mind, I always knew baseball was something I might want to try," he says. " I knew I had the skills."

It's a shame the Astros didn't fully understand those skills. Even after hitting over .300 for three different minor-league teams, Lofotn struggled at .203 in a 20 game September trial for Houston in 1991, and he was gone. The Astros shipped him to Cleveland for -- and this still has to hurt around the Astrodome -- Willie Blair and Eddie Taubensee.

Because of Lofton, Carlos Baerga and 11th-inning hero Eddie Murray, this is suddenly a real World Series. Indians manager Mike Hargrove is off the hook for his inexcusable decision to leave Charles Nagy in the game for the eighth inning. Cox may regret his dicision to bypass Greg Maddux tonight(and thus a possible game seven) to get Steve Avery in the rotation.

And Rosie Person can savor what she hears back home, on a street named Kenny Lofotn Lane. "That's right," she says. "They took old Butler street and changed the name to my grandson's. The usually don't do that until after someone has passed on, but they figured it would be nice to do it while the guy's still living and movin' around."

Kenny's standing tall this week, Rosie. You'd best stand up, too.

Terry Pluto analyzes the Cleveland Indians in the ALCS

Terry Pluto analyzes the Cleveland Indians in the ALCS
Monday, October 15, 2007
Boston

-- It was about 2 a.m. Sunday when I real ized the Indians can actually win this American League Championship Series with Boston. I walked out of Fenway Park, the stands were nearly empty and what remained of the crowd was utterly silent. The left-field wall seemed to be weary, leaning forward as it were just too tired to even cry.

The streets were a different story, bitter Boston fans spitting out the name of Boston reliever Eric Gagne, combining it with vile adjectives that could peel the green paint off that monster in left field. Such sweet sounds!

Final score: Indians 13, Boston 6.

It took 11 innings, 416 pitches and 5 hours and 14 minutes. It seemed Boston could have won it at least three times, and I never once felt good about the Tribe's chances until Trot Nixon . . .

If you see Eric Wedge buying a lottery ticket, just tell the clerk you want the same numbers as the Indians manager. Wedge has shredded his managerial book, managing from the heart and bucking the odds.

Admit it, what were you thinking before Trot Nixon busted that 6-6 deadlock with a run-scoring single into center field in the 11th? The former Red Sox did it against the kind of pitcher that he never even hit when he was young, healthy and believed his days in Boston just might never end.

Here was Nixon pinch hitting for Josh Barfield, supposedly against right-hander Eric Gagne. But Boston manager Terry Francona mercifully removed Gagne, bringing in lefty Javier Lopez.

Understand that the left-handed Nixon is a career .219 batter against lefties. Understand that Wedge had a very viable option in Jason Michaels on the bench, the right-hander being a career .300 hitter against lefties. Understand that inside I was screaming, "Hit Michaels for Nixon!"

Finally, understand that Nixon's last regular-season RBI was July 29, that he's playing with a balky back and some other annoying symptoms that come with age. Understand that there are just some things you can't understand . . .

Like Nixon delivering the base hit.

Like the Indians scoring seven times that 11th inning, including a three-run homer from Franklin Gutierrez. He has been in such a slump, you could put a volleyball on a batting tee and he wouldn't hit it. Before the homer, he was 2-for-19 in the playoffs with eight strikeouts.

Like Tom Mastny coming out of the bullpen to retire David Ortiz, Manny Ramirez and Mike Lowell in 1-2-3, no-big-deal fashion in the 10th inning -- something the best pitchers in the game rarely do. Mastny didn't even pitch in the first round against New York. He had a 5.06 ERA in September and had fallen deep on the bullpen depth chart, but you'd never know it Saturday.

Like Jhonny Peralta hitting .458 in the playoffs, and how he delivered a three-run homer to the White Mountains -- make that Fenway's deep center field. Like how it came off Boston veteran Curt Schilling, he of the career 9-2 record and 1.93 ERA in the postseason.

Like how the Indians playing their two aces in Boston -- and neither survived five innings. C.C. Sabathia and Fausto Carmona combined for a 12.97 ERA this weekend in Fenway Park. Raffy Perez served up back-to-back homers. If someone told you that, what would you have thought happened in Boston?

Like how does all that happen? How do the Indians come home for Game 3 with this best-of-seven American League Championship Series tied at 1-1?

Like maybe, just maybe, this is the Tribe's year.

Boston and the Tribe have been playing baseball for seven months, and both have exactly 100 victories, counting the postseason. But remember that if the Indians had lost, they'd be down, 0-2. Since the League Championship Series went to best-of-seven in 1985, only three of 17 teams have come back from 0-2 to win.

Now, the series is tied, and there's a sense it's not even close to being over -- for either team or their bleary-eyed fans.

'Shooter' Beck lived as hard as he played - Rod Beck

'Shooter' Beck lived as hard as he played
By Amy K. Nelson
ESPN.com

Christmas parties always brought out the best in Rod Beck. They epitomized him, really. There were games, karaoke, plenty of booze and a mix of people who came because they loved the guy everyone called "Shooter." Here he was, an All-Star closer making millions of dollars. And when they asked what to bring, his guests were told to bring a toy. Beck and his wife, Stacey, wanted to make sure Toys for Tots had plenty of gifts for the children.


It sounded like a Hallmark card, but it was true. Beck was nothing if not genuine. He was a normal guy who usually called everyone "dude," who instead of asking a clubhouse attendant to pick up his used, dirty towels, would ask him to go share a smoke.

"His image was not something he was," says Tim Wakefield, Beck's teammate from 1999-2001 in Boston. "He had a huge heart, and was so humble. He was so full of life."

Rodney Roy Beck, a name that even sounds like a cocktail, was usually with a Coors Light and a KOOL cigarette, and "he wasn't no pop hitter," said Dusty Baker. "That's what they'd call you back in the day, pop hitter."

Christmas parties always brought out the best in Rod Beck. They epitomized him, really. There were games, karaoke, plenty of booze and a mix of people who came because they loved the guy everyone called "Shooter." Here he was, an All-Star closer making millions of dollars. And when they asked what to bring, his guests were told to bring a toy. Beck and his wife, Stacey, wanted to make sure Toys for Tots had plenty of gifts for the children.


It sounded like a Hallmark card, but it was true. Beck was nothing if not genuine. He was a normal guy who usually called everyone "dude," who instead of asking a clubhouse attendant to pick up his used, dirty towels, would ask him to go share a smoke.

"His image was not something he was," says Tim Wakefield, Beck's teammate from 1999-2001 in Boston. "He had a huge heart, and was so humble. He was so full of life."

Rodney Roy Beck, a name that even sounds like a cocktail, was usually with a Coors Light and a KOOL cigarette, and "he wasn't no pop hitter," said Dusty Baker. "That's what they'd call you back in the day, pop hitter."

Baker knows. He 'd never had a sip of alcohol before arriving in the minor leagues in 1967, when his first manager saw him drinking soda and told him he wasn't carrying no pop hitters on his roster. Beer or water only, Dusty quickly learned.

"Back in the old days he would've really been accepted," Baker says, "because [beer drinking] was the norm."


When he arrived in San Francisco as a rookie in 1991, with Baker as the hitting coach, Beck needed no introduction to the old school. He was it.


*****

Something was wrong, different this time. Whether the hallucinations were returning again, another seizure was on the horizon or the thumping of his heart was causing alarm, only Rod Beck knew. But when he dialed his personal assistant, Tina Buchanan, at 11:57 a.m. on June 23, he told her he wasn't feeling well. He knew he was in trouble.

When Buchanan walked into his bedroom 15 minutes later, she found him not breathing. And 37 minutes after that, he was pronounced dead.

Police arrived to a den of cocaine and crack, with pipes in about every feasible place Beck could stash his daily tools of addiction.

This was the life of an addict, not a professional baseball player who finished with 286 career saves and a 3.30 ERA. The addict was once a legendary reliever who made a career out of intimidation; with his shoulder-length, wavy mullet, a long, straggly mustache and a dangling arm that ticked like a pendulum, putting batters on notice that his next pitch was near.

The baseball player was long gone on that June day, but there were a few remnants of his prolific career, and reminders of who he once was. Among those was a white ceramic plate in the form of a baseball. Atop it lay a rolled-up dollar bill, Beck's 1993 San Francisco Giants baseball card, and a dusting of cocaine over the plate.

*****


Stacey came from New York City, or so she would tell anyone who asked, until Rodney -- that's what everyone who knew him called him -- kept reminding her that she really hailed from Van Nuys, Calif., just like him, even though she left New York at age 9.


They met when they were both 15 and sophomores at Ulysses S. Grant High School. They first became friends, but right away Stacey was drawn to Rodney's soft, endearing side. He also seemed more mature than most, able to enjoy sappy movies with her. And he always seemed to care about people.

"He had dreams and aspirations and a sense of where he was going," she says. "And you know, that's attractive."

Drafted out of high school by the A's, Beck married Stacey by age 20 and was toiling in the minors. At one point, Stacey asked him if he wanted to go get a real job.

"I love you," Rod told her, "but all 28 teams are going to have to tell me that I'm not good enough before I quit doing this, so you can come with me or not."

Stacey became a baseball wife for life.

And it was a good life for a long time. Beck, later traded to the Giants, was called up in 1991, and he quickly endeared himself to teammate and fans.

"He had that Fu Manchu, that menacing glare, the stare, the dangling right arm," says Barney Nugent, the Giants' former assistant athletic trainer, who first met Beck in 1991. "That mullet blowing in the Candlestick breeze all the time. ... It was, 'Me against you, and I'll tell you, I'm going to win. There's no way that I'm gonna lose.' That was Shooter, and everybody could respond to it."

Beck soon was entrenched as the team's closer, and went on to make millions of dollars during his seven seasons in the Bay Area. One night Rod came home and told Stacey that Giants owner Peter Magowan had asked everyone on the team to pick a charity to support.

The couple scanned the list, and Beck's eye spotted an empty "other" box. Beside it, he wrote "AIDS." A few weeks before, he and Stacey had watched the Ryan White story on TV. Rod, always one for the sappy story, turned to his wife and told her no child should feel ashamed because he or she is sick.

In the misogynistic, homophobic world that is a major league clubhouse, it was taboo back in 1993 to publicly endorse a cause largely associated with gay men. Rod didn't care.

The lack of fear that permeated his game also translated to his life.



*****


Whenever cocaine entered Beck's life, it didn't take hold right away.


But by the end of 2003, Stacey spotted the signs: staying up late, sleeping in, complaining of a constant cold, and becoming more distant emotionally. A friend told her it was coke, and that's when Stacey confronted her husband of 15 years. He admitted to using and said he wouldn't do it anymore. He had it under control, he claimed. It would never happen again.

"I just couldn't believe it," she says, "so I did what many other people do -- you beg and plead and ask them to stop."

For Stacey, it was exhausting being a watchdog, wondering what he was doing every time he was in an adjacent room for too long, or when his trip to the grocery story took an extra 30 minutes.

Addiction was slowly taking away the father of their two daughters and the man who was her soulmate. By Christmas 2003, Stacey realized his addiction was now "bigger than we are, and something needs to be done."



*****


Years earlier, as a young minor leaguer with the Giants, Scott Linebrink met Beck for the first time when he walked into the spring training clubhouse and found Beck puffing away. Now it was 2003, and they teammates with the Padres, after Linebrink was claimed off waivers from the Astros. He was new and so was Beck, whom general manager Kevin Towers had picked up from Triple-A Iowa when closer Trevor Hoffman went down with an injury.

Beck's fastball had been topping out in the mid-80s in Des Moines, but he had already made national news earlier that spring when reporter Wayne Drehs wrote a story on ESPN.com chronicling Beck's unique living arrangements.

Beck was 34 and a year removed from Tommy John surgery when he drove from Phoenix to Des Moines by himself and parked his RV camper next to his workplace, behind the right-field fence. And when the light was on, that meant anyone could stop by for a beer. When the light was off, the Iowa closer was sleeping in preparation for the next day's game.

"It's just like an old-time ballplayer story, you know?" Stacey says.

Beck saved 20 straight games for San Diego on little else than his experience and will. Being the new guys, Linebrink and Beck became catch partners.

"A familiar picture that I'd see of him [in my mind] was him riding the bike with a sweat towel over his neck, smokin' a cigarette, doin' a crossword puzzle, riding about five-miles-an-hour," Linebrink says, then laughs. "He said he was always playing for the tie."

The tenacity and energy he brought to the closer role are what Hoffman admired from afar before they became teammates. Baseball's all-time saves leader thought Beck was bigger than life.

"His bark is much worse than his bite," Hoffman says. "I think the minute you get the opportunity to have him let you in, you're in for life."

Hoffman's words ring more true than he could ever imagine.

Beck kept two framed jerseys in his living room. One was a Beck Cubs jersey. The other was Hoffman's.


On the back of Hoffman's jersey was an inscription to his friend:

Shooter, We all know we're lucky to be able to play this game. But it's the game that's lucky to have players like you who play it hard and play it right.

All the best, Hoffy



*****

By the beginning of 2004, Stacey was living in chaos and knew Beck needed help. She called over a half-dozen family and friends asking them to attend an intervention for Rod.

Beck was neither angry nor abusive -- he never was. But on that day Beck was agitated, and he insisted nothing was wrong. He had everything under control. The logical part of his brain had turned off; that's what usually happens with addicts -- they're unable to relate.

"It was awful," says Nugent, who became close friends with Rod and Stacey and who spoke at the intervention. "He was pacing, and it was a different Rod Beck than I had known. It was very emotional."

After several hours Beck finally relented.

He had spent two weeks in rehab when Stacey and the girls went to visit Rod during a family weekend. It was there, at the treatment center, where Stacey enrolled the girls in a children's program about addiction.

During the visit Beck told Stacey he was convinced he had the addition licked. He was ready to leave, especially since spring training was a week away and he didn't want anyone in baseball to know. Stacey wanted him to stay. Against medical advice, Rod came home.

A few days later, he relapsed.

Stacey gave him an ultimatum.

"You can't live in this house if you're going to stay in the solution," she told him. "If you're going to stay in the problem, then you can't live at home."

He left, but a few days later he called and said he wanted to come home. She insisted he call baseball officials and tell them he had an addiction and needed treatment. The Padres were in full support, and Beck packed his bags for a 30-day rehabilitation program, his absence explained as a personal matter.

This time, he completed the program and then spent six weeks in an outpatient program. He lived at home in Phoenix with Stacey and the girls, away from the game. Their family was back together again. But soon Beck felt it was time to return to baseball.

When he returned, he told his teammates in a meeting that he was an addict and he hoped for their support. Some time after his return, Linebrink and Hoffman noticed Beck on the back of the team plane drinking beers.

"He's a grown man, and we're big enough to make decisions on our own," Linebrink says. "There was that not wanting to step on his toes and embarrass him in front of the team."

With a 6.38 ERA, the Padres released Beck in August.

By the beginning of the fall, Linebrink and Hoffman heard that Stacey had kicked Rod out of the house, and that he was living in his famous RV by himself at Lake Pleasant campground, about 30 miles from Phoenix. Both men knew Beck was in trouble, especially without Stacey.

So they took the unique and amazing step of traveling to Arizona. With hope, they flew to Phoenix on a Saturday in October 2004, Linebrink from his offseason home in Texas, and Hoffman from San Diego, and Stacey directed them to the quiet campground.

Hoffman and Linebrink were nervous, and not knowing whether he would be high or armed or both. They approached and knocked on the RV.

Beck opened the door, startled to see his two former teammates. He invited them inside, where the conversation over the next few hours was not about baseball but about trying to save his life.

"We just told him we loved him," Linebrink says. "We miss our friend. We know there's some things going on that are not healthy for him."

Adds Hoffman: "I don't really think it was Rodney we were really talking to. I think it was someone that had been taken over."



*****


Both Kayla and Kelsey share characteristics of their famous father. Kayla is intuitive and soft-spoken. She and her dad could spend an afternoon shopping; it was one of their favorite things to do together. She also loved riding ATVs with her dad, and unlike Kelsey, she felt at home when she was in a major league ballpark watching a game.


"He was just like a little kid," says Kayla, now 14.

Kelsey, 13, never liked watching the games but is now the only girl on her Little League team. She's the right fielder, and when frozen in time by photograph, her throwing motion is eerily reminiscent of her father's.

"He never missed a single baseball game of mine," says Kelsey.

After their dad moved out, his house just a few miles away, the girls had learned his addiction was a disease, one requiring treatment and empathy, not exile and shame.

But at the beginning of June, the disease was taking its toll. Beck had developed a staph infection in his right leg and began having hallucinations, his assistant said, likely associated with his daily use of cocaine. He had suffered seizures but was trying to keep it together, even attending one of Kelsey's baseball games in early June.

Around that time, Stacey could sense he was in trouble. She decided to have another intervention, this one smaller but with Rod's children. The night before the second and final intervention, Kelsey wrote and rewrote the words she would speak to her father the next day, asking him to help himself.

"I just really want you back," Kelsey said to her dad.

She hoped it would work.

"I think it registered somewhere inside him," Kelsey says. "Just not a powerful enough level to where he would take it into action."

Dusty Baker hates funerals, and he never wanted to go to the one of someone he considered a nephew. Sitting in a Scottsdale, Ariz., mortuary during Beck's memorial service in late June, Baker wasn't sure whether he was sad, mad or both after he saw Kelsey try to tell her father how she much loved him. She couldn't make it through the eulogy.

"I know how much he loved those girls," Baker says. "He loved them girls. Them girls loved him."



*****


Whatever perceptions one has of drugs, addicts, and addiction, the Becks want people to know it's a disease. They hope that its victims can be viewed with respect, not scorn. They want people to know that there's help; there are children's programs, counselors, research and education available to help people overcome it.


"The reason we're telling this story is so that other people will seek out the information," Stacey says, "seek out the people who can help them. My daughter asked me to tell this story so that daddy doesn't die in vain without helping someone else."

Rod lost his battle with the disease, and that took away a person they all tried to save, someone who was worth fighting for.

"It stole a son, it stole a father -- the girls, they don't have their dad," Stacey says, crying. "It stole my best friend."

Amy K. Nelson is a staff writer for ESPN.com. She can be reached via e-mail at amy.k.nelson@espn3.com.

Few have won down two to none - Pluto

Few have won down two to none
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Boston

- Why was the Indians' victory last night so big? Consider that since the League Championship Series went to seven games in 1985, there have been 17 teams that have lost the first two games. Of those 17, only three went on to win the series. The three teams that won the series after being down, 0-2, were the 1985 Kansas City Royals, the 1985 St. Louis Cardinals- in the first year of the new setup - and the 2004 Boston Red Sox. That means only one of the last 15 teams to be down, 0-2, has come back to win the series. Those Red Sox came back from 0-3 to ambush the Yankees.

In the regular season, C.C. Sabathia and Fausto Carmona walked only 98 in 456 innings, that's about two per game. But in 8 1/3 innings, they've walked 10 in Boston. Then consider that Tribe pitchers walked the fewest hitters in the American League, but Boston also drew the most walks in the AL. The patience of the Red Sox hitters is frustrating the Tribe's two aces - something that never happened during the regular season.

In 9 1/3 playoff innings, Sabathia has given up 11 hits, 11 walks and 11 runs. The key stat is the 11 walks. New York and Boston determined Sabathia has been enticing hitters to swing at breaking pitches just out of the strike zone. They have been taking those pitches, forcing Sabathia to throw his fastball. He has been high with his fastball, creating a lot of foul balls and high pitch counts. He's thrown 199 pitches in those games, only 100 for strikes. This from a guy who had only 37 walks in 34 starts this season.

In four innings, Carmona threw 100 pitches, only 51 strikes. He walked five. Consider that in his previous 33 starts, only four times has Carmona walked more than three hitters. Let's not blame the umpires for the walks because Boston starters Josh Beckett and Curt Schilling did not walk a hitter in 10 2/3 innings. Sabathia and Carmona both seemed uptight and trying to throw too hard.

It's nearly two years since the Indians traded Coco Crisp to Boston for Kelly Shoppach and Andy Marte - those three being the key players in the deal. In Crisp, the Red Sox have, in the opinion of manager Terry Francona, a "Gold Glove-type center fielder." Boston assumed Crisp would hit close to .300 in their power-packed lineup.

In 2006, Crisp played with a finger injury that required surgery, hitting a soft .264. Healthy this season, Boston expected him to return to his Cleveland form, but he batted .268 with 6 HR, 60 RBI and a .330 on-base percentage. It's a major drop from 2004-05 for the Tribe when Crisp averaged 16 HR, 70 RBI and 33 doubles while batting .298 with a .345 on-base percentage. The Red Sox have a 24-year-old phenom in Jacoby Ellsbury, who batted .353 in 33 games for the Red Sox. This came after a minor-league career where he was a .314 hitter. There is talk Crisp could be traded this winter.

Marte was supposed to be the third-base answer for the Tribe, but he has spent most of the last two seasons at Class AAA Buffalo. He lost his job to Casey Blake early this season, then batted .267 with 16 HR, 60 RBI and a .309 on-base percentage for the Bisons in 352 at-bats. The Indians were pleased because Marte batted .306 (33-of-106) in August, with 5 HR and 17 RBI.

Marte has been in Class AAA for most of the last three seasons. He is out of minor-league options in 2008, and the Indians don't want to lose him on waivers like they did Jeremy Guthrie and some other players. One theory about Marte is that he's been in Class AAA too long and got discouraged. Another thought is that he has a big swing and the right-handed hitter seems weak on breaking pitches on the outside corner.

Marte seems like he's been an eternal prospect, but he doesn't turn 24 until Oct. 21. The Indians don't want another Brandon Phillips situation - a player brought up to the majors too early, then written off too soon. Phillips became a star with the Reds, where he batted .288 with 30 HR and 94 RBI at second base. Just as Marte will be next spring, Phillips was 24 when the Indians dumped him in a deal for minor-league pitcher Jeff Stevens.

One consideration is to open 2008 with Marte at third. Blake is gifted enough to play left or right field. But the Indians have lots of corner outfield candidates in Franklin Gutierrez, Jason Michaels, prospect Ben Francisco (International League batting champ) and David Dellucci. Kenny Lofton is on the roster now, but he'll be a free agent. Is it fair to throw Blake into that mix? Taking over for Marte at third early in the season, Blake ranked fifth in the AL in fielding average while hitting .270 with 18 HR and 78 RBI. Would Marte do any better than that? Would Blake help more in the outfield? The Indians are asking those questions as they ponder 2008.

They are thrilled with Shoppach, who is an excellent defensive catcher. He's thrown out 36 percent of baserunners, which would rank third in the AL if he had enough appearances. He has teamed up with Paul Byrd to help the veteran win 15 games. Some teams have asked about Shoppach in trade, because they believe he is good enough to start. He hit .261 with 7 HR and 30 RBI in 161 at-bats, so he has some power.

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Red Sox's mettle will be tested
Howard Bryant
ESPN.com

BOSTON -- For 11 innings, the Cleveland Indians played desperation baseball. They survived losing a first-inning lead for the second consecutive night, overcame losing a two-run lead in the kind of way that buries most teams, stared down the hottest offensive tandem in baseball in a crucial late situation with no room for failure, and played two games in Boston with neither of their elite pitchers able to escape the fifth inning.


But the American League Championship Series now is tied at one game apiece, courtesy of Cleveland's exhausting 13-6 win over the Boston Red Sox on Saturday. The victory was capped by a seven-run knockout punch in the top of the 11th inning, but it was defined by the Indians' ability to counter each moment in Game 2 that appeared to signal a Boston mandate.

Now, entering Monday's Game 3, it is the Indians who come home from Boston having lost nothing and gained everything. The Tribe relearned some things about themselves, and this variety of psychological victory is not insignificant. Trot Nixon, whose one-out bloop single off Javier Lopez in the last frame ignited the exclamation point, acknowledged his young teammates might have been a bit intimidated by the Fenway postseason crush during their Game 1 loss. Before Game 2, one Red Sox player predicted that Cleveland starter Fausto Carmona would fall apart once he heard Boston's October crowd firsthand. The mind games, even at this late date on the calendar, do not stop.

"I'm so proud of these guys for the way they've persevered throughout the entire year," Nixon said. "No one was picking us to win. They persevered in New York in a hostile atmosphere. We didn't play the way we wanted the first night. Maybe we had some big eyes out there, but I think they learned a lot in that first game and were able to come out against a top-flight pitcher like Curt Schilling and get after it a little bit."

To that point, it appeared the Indians would struggle through, just valiant enough to lose -- if for no other reason than the Red Sox were home, with the final at-bat.

That advantage now turns to Cleveland -- and quickly. This series has turned into a best-of-five, with the Indians hosting three games. The Tribe have pierced the air of invincibility that permeated the Red Sox, who convincingly won their first four playoff games, by proving they can beat them in October.

Conventional wisdom holds that momentum in a playoff series contains as much carry-over effect as the gifts of the next game's starting pitcher, meaning Jake Westbrook and Daisuke Matsuzaka now are more important than anything that occurred in Game 2.

Pressure is constant, but in Game 3, for the first time in this postseason, the Red Sox are the ones who need to learn something about themselves, most clearly, how much they can count on Matsuzaka. He is pitching to keep the Red Sox from a deficit against a revived Indians team and will be their Game 7 starter, if necessary. As of now, Matsuzaka has not proven he can handle this kind of prime-time exposure.

When the Red Sox paid a combined $102 million for Matsuzaka, the plan was for him to stand where he is now -- but as a proven veteran with a reputation for rising against pressure. He was to be a Japanese version of the great Orlando Hernandez, whose regular-season win totals always have been modest in comparison to his postseason exploits.

But his first taste, a 6-3 Red Sox win over the Los Angeles Angels in Game 2 of the AL Division Series, was not encouraging. He lasted just 4 2/3 innings, giving up seven hits and three runs.

To his credit, Matsuzaka pitches with an ace mentality. Like Schilling, his determination increases with men on base. He pitches with a grim sense of duty, and because of his toughness, the damage always seems as if it could be worse.

The problem is, Matsuzaka creates much of his own trouble. Despite his resolute demeanor this season, he often committed the type of pitching mistakes that plague losing pitchers and prevent good pitchers from becoming great.

Matsuzaka led the Red Sox in hits allowed, earned runs, home runs, walks and hit batsmen -- all categories great pitchers avoid. He threw four more innings than Josh Beckett but walked twice as many men. In nine of 32 starts, Matsuzaka yielded as many walks as hits, and Boston lost six of those games.

Worse, he is prone to quickly giving away leads, as he did against the Angels after the Red Sox scored twice to take a 2-0 lead. By the bottom of the second, Boston trailed 3-2.

For the Indians, they must be bolstered by their response to three important sequences in Game 2.

Leading 1-0 in the third, Carmona struck out two but gave up a base hit to David Ortiz -- who entered the game hitting .778, a number even slow-pitch softball players don't often reach -- to load the bases for Manny Ramirez. Carmona walked Ramirez on four pitches to tie the game.

The next hitter, Mike Lowell, ripped a two-run single to give the Red Sox the lead and continue the theme that the best Indians pitchers could do nothing with the heart of the Red Sox's order.

The Sox chased out Carmona after four innings, 95 pitches and five walks. They didn't hit him hard but executed nearly perfect at-bats by not swinging at pitches that were even the slightest millimeter out of the strike zone. Carmona, who threw the same darting pitches that made the New York Yankees chase out of the zone, would not be helped by a patient Red Sox team.
With the momentum, Schilling -- another big-game pitcher -- retired Travis Hafner on a fly before yielding three straight hits. The third was a three-run homer to Jhonny Peralta that snatched back the lead for Cleveland. Grady Sizemore, the wondrous center fielder, banged a line-drive homer into the Boston bullpen an inning later to make it 5-3, Cleveland.

When the Red Sox erased the deficit and set the Fenway crowd aflame with a three-run fifth -- highlighted by consecutive home runs from Ramirez and Lowell -- the Indians' knees did not knock. They responded the very next inning, manufacturing a run around a leadoff walk by Peralta.

And finally, with the Red Sox ready to break their hearts and the fans set to pounce, the Indians did not blink. In the bottom of the ninth, with two outs and the winning run on second in a 6-6 game, Rafael Betancourt, pitching his third inning of relief, fought and beat Kevin Youkilis through an 11-pitch at-bat. In the 10th, reliever Tom Mastny cleanly sliced through Ortiz, Ramirez and Lowell -- the second time in the series the three were retired in order. The vaunted Sox mustered only one hit after the sixth inning.

For the first time this series, it was Exhibit A of the Indians taking a big punch from the Red Sox and countering with a roundhouse of their own.

"There's no one who should feel bad in the clubhouse but me," said Schilling, who entered the game with the best winning percentage in postseason history. "Everything about this one falls on me. The way [Carmona] was early in the game and the way we were hitting and our at-bats, you knew we were going to grind it out on him and run him out of the game early. We put together a great inning, take a lead and get up to the Peralta at-bat, and I let it get away. ... This was all about me coming up small in a big game."

The Tribe had something to do with that. Now, it's their turn to show the Red Sox how Cleveland rocks.

Howard Bryant is a senior writer for ESPN.com and ESPN the Magazine. He is the author of "Shut Out: A Story of Race and Baseball in Boston" and "Juicing the Game: Drugs, Power and the Fight for the Soul of Major League Baseball." He can be reached at Howard.Bryant@espn3.com.

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