On the face of it, Manny Ramirez hiring Scott Boras is like President Bush hiring a campaign manager. Really, what's the use? Has all of Major League Baseball (both players and team ownership) decided to get together and drive Boras insane? A-Rod won't talk to him, Sheffield calls him a bad person, and now Manny wants his representation. But for what exactly? And why now?

The Red Sox hold team options on Manny -- $20 million per year in 2009 and 2010 -- so he can't opt out like A-Rod did last year. Meanwhile, Theo Epstein has said the Sox will wait until after the season before making a decision about Manny's 2009 option. He didn't, however, say the team would be unwilling to consider a new deal altogether. And really, when it comes down to it, why else would Ramirez need a negotiator like Boras?

Consider this: Ramirez has no chance of making $20 million a year anywhere else, so perhaps the two sides will agree to a three-year deal in the neighborhood of $15 million per season -- more total money than Ramirez would get if the Sox exercised the 2009 and 2010 options, more security for the player, but less per season on the Sox. As a fan, perhaps that's wishful thinking. But frankly, I can't think of any other reason why Ramirez would need to switch agents and bring in a negotiator like Boras. Unless, of course, he simply wants to drive the guy crazy with his eccentric demands. As a baseball fan, I'd be happy with that result too.

* The Red Sox are visiting the White House on Wednesday. Side bet: Larry Lucchino will be standing closer to President Bush than Theo Epstein when the press pool photo is released.

* I read that the Sox were taking Terry Francona out to dinner this week to discuss a contact extension. And by the Sox, I mean the entire management group, of course. According to the story, Francona is going to have dinner with Epstein, John Henry, Lucchino AND Tom Werner. The Sox initially wanted a table for 7, but Sen. George Mitchell and Bill James aren't able to make it. Listen, I know the Sox have won two titles in the last four years, and as a fan I shouldn't complain. But still I have to ask: "What the hell does Tom Werner do?"

* Veteran players have various reasons to return for "one more season." They're driven by a desire to win that elusive World Series, or perhaps reach a milestone, or perhaps make money after their ex takes half. These are the usual reasons. Mike Timlin has a new one: A desire to not look like a steroid cheat.

Timlin revealed to ESPN Radio’s Mike Salk that one of the reasons he decided to come back for another season was to make sure there were no questions regarding his injuries from last year, according to a story reported in the Boston Herald. His fear, he said, was that after a fairly injury-free career, the steroid whispers that have encompassed baseball might come his way.

“I’ve had a healthy career for the most part. I’ve been generally dependable and strong for most of my career,” Timlin said. “Now, as things are cleaning themselves up in baseball, I break down, and I don’t want to be associated with having injuries and breaking down at the same time things are disappearing out of baseball. I have never done that stuff, but I don’t want (it) to be speculated that I have.”

* The following players are members of my 2008 Tail-Off Team, which I'll be outlining in additional detail at bugsandcranks.com. (Please, contain your enthusiasm.) These are the guys who won't be matching their 2007 outputs, either because they got paid and won't be nearly as motivated (Jorge Posada and Mike Lowell), their catcher thinks they're a liar (Andy Pettitte), or they simply don't pass the sniff test. You don't want any of these guys on your fantasy team, mostly because you'll have to overpay for their services. Ya know, provided they actually play this year.

Posada
Lowell
Roger Clemens
Barry Bonds
Magglio Ordonez
Carlos Pena
Edgar Renteria
Jeff Francoeur
Reggie Willits
Brandon Phillips
Andy Pettitte
Joe Blanton
Ben Sheets
Rich Harden
Barry Zito
Dontrelle Willis
Gil Meche

* Apropos of nothing: I appreciate spring training so much more when there's snow on the ground in New England.

* Apropos of something: The whole A-Rod opt out/Cashman won't negotiate with him/Yankees lost face and look like wienies - story hasn't gotten much ink lately. Probably because the Bronx Bombers spent most of the winter not landing Johan Santana.

A lot of people whine about the two-week layoff between the NFL championship games and the Super Bowl, which is great for the players, coaches and team officials (who can make ticket arrangements and hotel accommodations for their friends and loved ones), but which annoys the average fan. Unfortunately, this extra week is here to stay, so all we can do is grin and bear it and wait for the first player to get arrested in Arizona.

This two-week layoff is perhaps the most unbearable down time in sports -- but by no means the only one. Here are some other times that try men's souls, in no particular order.

* The Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday following the first weekend of the men's NCAA basketball tournament. Arguably, the first four days of the tournament are the most exciting stretch in sports, with games from noon to midnight, the occasional upset, and just about everyone in the nation discussing their brackets. Even chicks with zero sports knowledge love the first four days of March Madness...but then it's over. And then we have to wait through Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday (and even part of Thursday!) for the Sweet 16 games. Sure, those games are usually better match-ups than the earlier games, but you probably don't have to fake a head cold, lie to your boss and slink off to a sports bar to watch them either, and that's what makes the first round so magical.

* The day after the All-Star Game in baseball. Honestly, I despise the All-Star Break, but these millionaires need their beauty sleep, so I guess we have to live with it. I don't watch the Home Run Derby, which is a hackneyed premise, and I only watch the All-Star Game introductions and maybe the first three innings. The game's on Tuesday, so by Wednesday night I need baseball that actually matters. I mean, I've been watching my team play every night for three-plus months. Sure, there's the occasional travel day or rain cancellation -- but not for three days in a row!

* The Friday and Saturday after the Thursday night kickoff to the NFL season. This is like holding Christmas Eve on a Thursday, teasing your kid by giving him one present, then holding Christmas Day three days later, at which point your frustrated child simply wants to kill you and burn the remaining presents.

* When your team closes out its series and has to wait for another series to finish. This happens in the NBA and the NHL all the time, but the most publicized layoff in recent sports history involved the Colorado Rockies. Following a stretch when they won 21 of 22 games, including back-to-back sweeps of the Phillies and Diamondbacks in last year's National League playoffs, the Rockies had to wait while the Red Sox and Indians finished a hard-fought 7 games series (and then two more days -- 8 in total -- because MLB decided the World Series was starting on a preordained day, no matter when the two championship series ended). Colorado players spent the eight days making snow men at Coors Field, then got swept by the Red Sox in the World Series. Don't tell a Rockies fan that momentum is a myth.

* The period between your fantasy draft and the start of the regular season. Usually you try to schedule your fantasy football and baseball drafts for as close to the start of the regular season as possible, but it doesn't always work that way. Consequently, you draft your team and then pray for several weeks, hoping the guys you drafted don't get hurt in meaningless exhibition games, thereby ruining your chances to look like a genius. This probably applies equally to fantasy basketball, fantasy hockey and fantasy NASCAR, but I've never participated in those leagues.

* In Major League Baseball, the two-plus weeks of interleague play every June. Good god alive, has the novelty worn off yet? This year, between June 13 and June 29, my team, the Boston Red Sox, play the Cincinnati Reds, the Philadelphia Phillies, the St. Louis Cardinals (hurray, Joe Buck and Tim McCarver on the Saturday Game of the Week!), the Arizona Diamondbacks and the Houston Astros. I know I shouldn't complain, since that's 15 easy wins. But still.

* The day AFTER opening day in baseball. Listen, I know why the teams schedule an off day between opening day and the second game of the year (it's in case opening day is rained out). But that doesn't eradicate the fact that I go from cloud nine to limbo in less than 24 hours.

* The layoff before bowl games. Ohio State was off for more than 50 days before losing to LSU in the BCS Championship Game, but frankly, I don't care that much about this kind of stretch. After all, it's been more than 9000 days since my alma mater, Vanderbilt, even went to a bowl game.

* For Seattle sports fans, Jan. 1-Dec. 31.

Former baseball greats Jim Rice, Bert Blyleven and Goose Gossage are among the 25 Hall of Fame candidates who'll be anxiously awaiting a phone call from Cooperstown Tuesday afternoon, when the 2008 inductees are announced. For Rice, Blyleven and Gossage, who've each been on the ballot at least 9 years, this has become an annual day of anguish, as they and others wait - some with genuine hope, others with brave resignation - for their telephone to ring and for the president of the Baseball Hall of Fame to say, "Congratulations, ####, and welcome to Cooperstown."

To combat their inevitable case of nerves, each candidate has their own plan for tomorrow, and most of them took my phone call and graciously agreed to discuss it with me. Some of these guys have been dealing with Hall of Fame announcement day for years (Rice is on the ballot for the 14th time), while others are doing this for the first and last time, like Shawon Dunston and Travis Fryman, who have as much chance of getting 5 percent of the vote - the threshold for staying on the ballot - as John Slais.

Who? Exactly.

Anyway, here are their responses, in alphabetical order.

* Brady Anderson - "I'm going to watch a 90210 marathon on TV Land, then I'm going to trim my sideburns and strike a pose."

* Harold Baines - "I'll be exuding class."

* Rod Beck - Did not return repeated calls seeking comment.

* Bert Blyleven - "I'm going to go jogging in the morning, but I'll be home sitting by the phone by eleven."

* Dave Concepcion - "(I'll be) kissing Joe Morgan's butt, hoping he can get me in through the Veterans Committee."

* Andre Dawson - "Drinking a pitcher every 10 minutes until I pass out. Then every 7 minutes."

* Shawon Dunston - "I'll be finding you to kick your freaking butt. For the fifth time, it's pronounced 'Sha-WAN,' wiseass, not 'Chone.' "

* Chuck Finley - "I'll be hoping my ex-wife doesn't find me."

* Travis Fryman - "I'll be getting ready to manage the Class A Mahoning Valley Scrappers."

* Goose Gossage - "Like Hillary Clinton, I'll be working on my concession speech."

* Tommy John - "First I'm gonna have a Tommy John breakfast. Then I'm gonna take a Tommy John shower, followed by a Tommy John toilet break, a Tommy John jog, a Tommy John lunch and a Tommy John nap."

* David Justice - "Ya seen the Billy Bob sex scenes in 'Monster's Ball'? Me neither...yet."

* Chuck Knoblauch - "Same as every day, working on my throws to first."

* Don Mattingly - "I'm gonna spend the day looking like I smelled a ####."

* Mark McGwire - "The Tuesday when the elections are announced? I'll probably spend it talking about the past."

* Jack Morris - "My plan is to shoot ####"

* Dale Murphy - "I'll be smiling on Tuesday, no matter what."

* Robb Nen - "(I'll be) chuckling over the possibility that they'd mistakenly write Rob Nenn on my Hall of Fame plaque...because my name has two b's and one n, not two n's and one b..."

* Dave Parker - "No, I will not be doing coke to take the edge off."

*Tim Raines - "No, I will not be doing coke to take the edge off."

* Jim Rice - "I'll be hating members of the media."

* Jose Rijo - "Que es esto?"

*Lee Smith - "Man, I had the biggest johnson in baseball, you'd think that would earn me the benefit of the doubt, don't you? Wait, what was the question?"

* Todd Stottlemyre - "I'm not retired, so I don't know what you're talking about."

* Alan Trammell - "Whitaker and I will be doing, well, stuff together."

     Between now and January 9th, when the Baseball Hall of Fame announces its induction class for 2007, a lot of sportswriters and editorial writers will weigh in on the candidacy of former St. Louis Cardinal slugger Mark McGwire, whose prodigious on-field accomplishments – 583 career home runs, including 70 in 1998 – have been tainted by allegations of steroid use, most notably by former teammate Jose Canseco, who claims he and McGwire used to inject each other with the performance-enhancing drugs. When a Congressional committee investigating steroid use in Major League Baseball asked him about this, McGwire repeatedly replied, “I’m not here to talk about the past,” which rankled a lot of people, particularly the sanctimonious types who said his actions were dishonorable, that he was a bad role model for children, and that redheads are always up to no good.

     Now, for the first time, McGwire is eligible for Cooperstown, and baseball purists are lining up against him. With former greats like Tony Gwynn and Cal Ripken Jr. up for induction too, the holier-than-thou people say McGwire doesn’t deserve the honor of standing on the dais alongside the 8-time batting champ and the Iron Man of Baltimore, both of whom are locks for induction. “It’ll be a travesty!” they say. “The hallowed halls will be tainted forever!”

     Well, to guarantee that Ripken, who promulgated the silly notion that working every day was somehow admirable, doesn’t have to share the stage with a guy who took shortcuts, I propose a simple solution: Don’t elect Ripken to the Baseball Hall of Fame.

     A quick history lesson: The hall of fame in Cooperstown was started in 1935, to commemorate the 100th anniversary of baseball, which was supposedly invented in that small New York village by Abner Doubleday. During the Depression, the town was reeling from unemployment and lost businesses and villagers hoped the creation of a baseball museum would bring money and interest to the area. As part of the new museum, baseball executives proposed the enshrinement of certain players, and they called on baseball writers to elect an inaugural class. Writers selected Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, Honus Wagner, Walter Johnson, and Christy Mathewson. When the museum doors officially opened in 1939, it was the first hall of fame of any kind, anywhere. That’s right, it was the progenitor of the Football Hall of Fame, the Fairfield County Hall of Fame, The Explorers Hall of Fame, The International Tennis Hall of Fame, The Cowgirls Hall of Fame, The Bowling Hall of Fame, The Volleyball Hall of Fame, The National Amateur Softball Hall of Fame, The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, The County Music Hall of Fame, The Paralympic Hall of Fame, The Pinball Hall of Fame, The National Toy Hall of Fame, The Hollywood Walk of Fame, and the Hallmark Hall of Fame (I think).

     In theory, these are great institutions, since they promote the study, understanding, and appreciation of sports, music, hobbies, inventions, and Tyne Daly. In practice, however, every hall of fame has unfortunate ancillary baggage. Namely, the induction of individuals and all the stupidity that entails.

     Every induction process – from cowgirls to country music – is rife with prejudice, favoritism, and sanctimony. Phil Rizzuto is in the Baseball Hall of Fame, but Pete Rose and Shoeless Joe Jackson are not. UConn coach Jim Calhoun is in the Basketball Hall of Fame, but Adrian Dantley is still waiting. Joe Namath, who had 47 more interceptions than touchdowns in his career, was basically elected to the Football Hall of Fame on the merits of one game (Super Bowl III), while it took a quarter century for John Madden to be elected, even though his video game set the standard for 15 years. Do you care about these respective injustices? Probably not. And your knee-jerk reaction to the McGwire case is probably, “Who freakin’ cares?”     

     Well, the thing is, this is America, land of the dead, beaten horse; and this is baseball, the national pastime, so you won’t be able to avoid this news story, which is not going away – ever. You’ll be forced, perhaps subconsciously, to have an opinion, because McGwire’s candidacy, and the candidacy of every other player from the so-called Steroids Era, will be called into question, every year from now until the Rapture. 

      Now, did McGwire use juice? I don’t know, but he certainly quacked like a duck to Congress, so I’m willing to believe he did. Does that mean he doesn’t belong in the Hall of Fame? Well, if you’ve actually been to the Hall of Fame, you’ll know that he’s already in there. So, too, are Pete Rose and Shoeless Joe Jackson. Their records are there, and their names are listed for everyone to see. “Hold it,” you say, “they don’t have individual plaques.”

     That’s true. And I don’t think anyone else should either.       

     Baseball should get rid of individual Hall of Fame plaques. The hall is a museum, a catalog of accomplishments, and individual plaques add nothing. For instance, they won’t tell you anything you don’t already know about Babe Ruth or Eppa Rixey (if you actually know about Eppa Rixey). I mean, ya know what it says on the Babe’s slab? We’re talking about the Sultan of Swat, the greatest baseball player in the history of the game, and he’s immortalized by this paragraph:     

     “Greatest drawing card in history of baseball. Holder of many home run and other batting records. Gathered 714 home runs in addition to fifteen in World Series.”

     That’s it. Beyond the shoddy way in which it’s worded (he “gathered” 714 home runs? What are they, apples?), the plaque adds little to our collective knowledge of Ruth. Ask a 12-year-old about the Babe, and he (or she) would probably be able to tell you a lot more than that – even if it’s only that garbage about the Curse of the Bambino.       

     If Ripken gets elected, his plaque will no doubt mention his consecutive-games streak, and maybe his two MVP awards. But if he didn’t have a plaque, would this information somehow be lost to history? No. The only thing lost by the elimination of individual plaques and induction ceremonies is one more opportunity to kiss the butt of a world-class athlete, a guy who got to play a children’s game for a living. I mean, do retired players, who’ve had sunshine blown up their keisters since high school, really need more adulation? Conversely, do great players like Dale Murphy, Jim Rice, and Goose Gossage – some of the best players of my youth – deserve the ignominy of spending their twilights fielding “compliments” from fans who say, “It’s a travesty. You should be in the Hall of Fame”? Sure, fans mean it as a pat on the back, but after about 15 years, how can a player not start feeling like a failure? And that’s just wrong. Rice and Murphy don’t deserve that (though Gossage does, that baby).

     Kidding.

     I’ve been to two induction ceremonies: in 1999, for former Red Sox catcher Carlton Fisk, whose acceptance speech was so I long I nearly got sunstroke; and in 1996, for former Baltimore Orioles manager Ned Hanlon, my great-great-grandfather, whose acceptance speech was short, because he died in 1937. These yearly events are fun and a boon to the Cooperstown economy, but the hall won’t exactly suffer without these marketing vehicles. I mean, ya ever been to the Hall of Fame during the summer? It’s packed all day long.

     While I’d like to see the end of individual plaques, I’m not holding my breath. The players certainly don’t want to end this process, and baseball writers certainly don’t want to relinquish their powerful voting rights, though some employers are now making them.

     Between now and Dec. 31, when ballots must be postmarked, approximately 575 sportswriters will decide whether Mark McGwire should be honored alongside Cal Ripken Jr. Early indications say McGwire won’t get the 75 percent of votes necessary for induction, and so we’ll have to revisit his candidacy again next year, and the year after that, ad nauseum.

     Soon enough, Rafael Palmeiro will become eligible for induction. And then Sammy Sosa, and then Barry Bonds, and then Roger Clemens, and many other players accused of steroid use. Will they gather enough votes? Will they get individual plaques like Ken Griffey Jr. or Derek Jeter or Greg Maddux or other players who, to this point anyway, have escaped accusation? I don’t know. But if I had a vote, I wouldn’t vote for any of them. These players don’t need another day in the sun, and we don’t need to hear the same regurgitated news stories for the rest of our lives.