Role Model

SI's Ian Thomsen dissects Nate Robinson's Game 6 performance:

Robinson had been a disappointment ever since the Celtics had dealt Eddie House and Bill Walker to New York for him in hope of receiving a burst of needed energy at the February trade deadline. He had proved to be neither a reliable defender nor a true point guard. He wasn't on the bench so much as he'd been buried six feet under it, which is a great depth for someone three inches shorter than six feet. But now the Celtics had no choice. The second quarter began with Rondo lying on his stomach along the sideline, Larry Bird style. He was looking up -- and not having to look up very high -- to see 5-foot-9 Robinson in his place.

"During the playoffs at every single practice, I made a point of going over to him," said Rivers, who then recited his daily speech to Robinson: "Stay engaged. At some point you're going to win a game for us. I can't tell you when you're going to play, I can't tell you if you're going to play, on what night at least, but at some point you're going to win a game for us."

This was that game. The Celtics were up by a scant nine points just before Robinson let go of a well-spun three off the dribble and yelled out to the crowd, forcing an Orlando timeout. Moments later he was bounce-passing to Garnett for a cutting dunk. Then Robinson pulled up in transition for another three and backed away nodding and nodding.

Jameer Nelson lost his dribble in the frontcourt to the harrassment of Robinson for an over-and-back turnover. When he canned another jumper off the dribble to balloon his Celtics ahead by 48-27, Robinson blew at his fingers to cool them off. His glorious 8 minutes and 46 seconds culminated with a drive in which he really did appear to believe he could dunk over the 6-10 Howard, much as Howard had allowed him to do in the slam dunk contest two seasons ago. This time Howard went up to block the shot and fouled him hard as Robinson strutted away.

I've always said Nate is a talented player. That's what's so frustrating about him. Like David Lee, or Eddie House, for that matter, Nate's not, nor should he be, a team's first, second or third option. Nate, Lee and House are very good, even excellent, complimentary players: They possess enough talent to take over a game every once in awhile, but none can do it nightly, despite what they--or their agents--might tell the press. Surrounded by true superstars, though, they can become valuable contributors to teams with real championship aspirations, as Nate proved in spades last night against Orlando.

Celtics Wobbled

Is it possible two Boston sports teams can blow consecutive 3-0 leads, in less than three weeks?

The Bruins already took one on the chin, and the Celtics are struggling

just to get up off the mat after two decisive blows from a rejuvenated Orlando team.

Game 6, in Boston, is going to be epic.

It would be even more epic if NBA playoff games weren't fixed.

BEN:

Strangely, I don't disagree with any of this.

Red Sox I Hate: #23: Jeremy McDonald Van Every Hall

It is with some reluctance I even take on this four-headed, AAAA Jabberwocky. At the start of the season, as far as I can tell, only Jeremy Hermida, freshly dispatched from the Florida Marlins, even factored into the Red Sox’s 2010 plans. And his role was defined as a fourth outfielder and an occasional late-inning pinch hitter. Nothing more. Darnell McDonald and Jon Van Every, meanwhile, two minor league journeymen, offered, at best, some organizational depth, however shallow. Bill Hall is really just a failed infielder masquerading as a super utility man, pulling spot duty this season at short, second, center field, left field and right field: A jack of all trades, master of none. Other than Hermida, none really deserve more than an extended stint on the Sox's 25-man roster.

Early unforeseen and unfortunate injuries to outfielders Jacoby Ellsbury and Mike Cameron, however, unceremoniously ushered in the ignominious Jeremy McDonald Van Every Hall era, a 30-game stretch of remote control shatteringly bad baseball. To wit: Hermida’s early misadventure in left last night and McDonald’s rumbling, bumbling, stumbling in center cost the Red Sox at least four runs between them, and probably sent to his knees Theo Epstein, loyal supplicant to the high church of run prevention, before a make-shift, sweat-stained shrine to the four ghosts of Trot Nixon, Mark Bellhorn, Troy O'Leary, and Brian Daubach.

Taken individually, then, Hermida, McDonald, Van Every and Hall would hardly get my attention, let alone my goat. Collectively, though, the quartet rises to a level of annoyance roughly on par with the likes of, say, Gary Matthews Jr.

Reasons to Like Them:

Hermida hit a grand slam in his first Major League at bat. McDonald made quite a splash in his Red Sox debut, while Van Every has one career strike out as a pitcher. On Mother's Day 2006, Bill Hall, using a specialized pink bat, hit a walk-off home run against the Mets, with his mother in attendance. He later auctioned the bat to raise money for breast cancer awareness.

Reasons to Hate Them:

Hermida's beard makes him look Amish. McDonald was suspended in 2005 for violating the Minor League Drug Prevention and Treatment Program. Van Every struck out Brett Gardner. And Hall, while still an everyday player with the Milwaukee Brewers, appeared on an episode of The Young and the Restless, with his then teammates J.J. Hardy, Jeff Suppan and Chris Capuano. There are no small parts; only small ballplayers.

Overall Hate Rating:

4. One degree each, like an Orlando-based Boy Band.

Yankees I Hate #21: Francisco Cervelli

A week ago, Cervelli was quite a bit less relevant. Even in my angriest moments, a backup catcher is still just a backup catcher, and so Cervelli checks in at #21. But the quotient is higher than it used to be with Cervelli, who drove in 5 runs in Saturday's miserable 14-3 drubbing of the Red Sox. Cervelli is exactly the kind of backup receiver the Sox have been looking for over the past few years--a hardworking, athletic guy who plays good defense and doesn't carp about at-bats or try to do too much. The Yankees signed him in 2003 out of Venezuela, and at the time he'd never once played catcher. He fit the profile of what they wanted, and they all but manufactured him into an effective player.

He may not ever be starting material, but he's a very useful guy for them to have around, especially with Posada nearing age 60. He plays ball, and if he's not a world-igniting talent, he never makes anything harder for the team, and there's a lot to be said for that (by Yankees fans).

Reasons to like him:

Well, he's not Jorge Posada, who I have seen more than enough from over the last 15 years. And um. He seems nice?

He plays small ball. Lays down bunts and makes extra throws to pick off runners. These are fan- and announcer-favorite-type qualities.

He's an Italian Venezuelan American.

Reasons to hate him:

The aforementioned 5 RBI game. I could have done without that.

He's a bridge between Posada and several blue chip young catchers the Yankees have in the minors, most notably Jesus Montero. He forces me to contemplate the idea that the Yankees have a key position locked up for the next 10 years, and that is not a neutral feeling.

I know he got hit in the head, but that oversized helmet is like a metaphor for all the scrappy, David Eckstein-like stuff that he evokes in the hearts of Yankee fans. It also makes me feel like I'm rooting against a little kid, which isn't really playing fair.

Overall hate rating:

3.5 out of 10. I'm warming up.

Red Sox I Hate #24: Daniel Bard

Forgive me, if you will, a Ray Babbit moment:

98.

97.

98.

99.

99.

99.

98.

92.

99.

99.

Although I understand one’s temptation to assume the above series of cardinal numbers is a back-of-the-napkin calculation of the Yankees’ and Ray’s magic numbers for clinching a playoff birth, they are, upon closer inspection, the speed, measured in miles-per-hour, of Danield Bard’s last 10 fastballs. Eight of which he threw for strikes. Not. Bad.

Another of the Sox's preternatural talents, Bard employs one of the best fastballs in the majors—even if it’s sometimes as straight as Yawkey Way—coupled with a very impressive curve ball.

After the Sox drafted him 28th overall in 2006, the young flamethrower struggled through his first season in professional ball, going 3-7, with a 7.08 ERA between Class A and Class High A. He also walked 78 batters in 75 innings, while striking out a Delcarmen-esque 47. Which goes a long way in explaining why the front office decided the bullpen was probably his natural habitat. The move paid off, almost immediately. Following a much-needed intervention by team shrink Bob Tewksbury, Bard posted an ERA of 1.78 in 38 games, logged between Class A and AA, notching 89 strikeouts to go with only 23 walks in 65.2 innings.

Since making it to the show, Bard's racked up 85 strike outs in 66 scant innings, while walking 26. The kid's come a long way since Greenville. I respect that, and his talent. Also, his aw-shucks charm seems to repel every conceivable form of animus. Seriously, the kid sat for engagement photos.

Reasons to Like Him:
He lets his stuff speak for itself. If you told me he has full use of his voice box, I’d believe you, but not without hesitation.

An easy, effortless delivery.

Triple-digit fastballs are sexy. As are power curves.

He's not against the occasional Tex Message.

He's not Curt Schilling.

Reasons to Hate Him:
After the Yankees drafted him out of high school in 2003, Bard opted for Tar Hell Blue over the pinstripes. Unrequited love.

Following Bill Simmons' lead, some Sox fans have started expressing their growing appreciation for the young pitcher through the boorish exclamation, “I've got a Bard-on.”

He looks like a front office intern, not the bullpen’s best arm. I mean, really, cheese that good ought to come with a mullet.

Overall Hate Rating:
2 out of 10. The kid’s got talent, but hasn’t yet figured out the Yankees. If and when he starts to best the Bombers, or puts one in A-Rod's back, I'll react accordingly.