Belly of the beast

David S. Glasier
DGlasier@News-Herald.com
During this AL Championship series, some players on the Indians have expressed wonder at the size of the media contingent streaming into their clubhouse before and after games.
Third baseman Casey Blake was smiling and shaking his head yesterday when, before an off-day workout, he was encircled by at least 20 media types wielding notepads, tape recorders, microphones and TV cameras.
No offense meant to the always accomodating Blake and his equally media-friendly teammmates, but they've had it easy compared to the guys quartered on the opposite side of the lower level in the visitors clubhouse at Jacobs Field.
Let me set the scene as I witnessed it yesterday.
Just before the 1:15 p.m. opening of the Boston clubhouse, I counted 86 people with media badges waiting to get inside. At least 15 of the properly credentialed had TV cameras perched on their shoulders.
When the doors swung open, the media mass moved as one into the main clubhouse. My eyeball's guess is that the room measures 60 feet by 25 feet. Comfortable, to be sure, but maybe half the size of the home team's digs.
The majority of the media types were from newspapers, radio stations and TV stations in New England that regularly cover the Red Sox. Plenty of big-city newspapers had reporters in the room, too, as did ESPN, Fox Sports and a bunch of sports dot.coms a la mlb.com and espn.com.
Once inside, the wait was on for individual Red Sox players to appear at their assigned dressing stalls and signal a willingness to talk.
When one of Boston's big-name players did so, the rapid movement of media types toward interviewee was analagous to antibodies surrounding and enveloping rogue cells in the bloodstream.
The media crowd fanned out six-deep around Red Sox catcher and captain Jason Varitek in a half-circle. If you were in the first couple of rows, no problem. From the third row back, it was lean in and hope to catch bits of the conversation with scribbled notes or a tape recorder.
Varitek, in his 10th season with the Red Sox, was in complete command of the situation. He knows the drill - TV videographers roll in with the first wave, get what they need in five or so minutes and then step back to allow print and radio reporters to move in and do their thing.
The scene was repeated in front of the stalls of two other media-savvy veterans, first baseman Kevin Youklis and Mike Lowell.
This reporter staked out his turf in the first row of the scrum around Lowell. It proved to be a mixed blessing, as prime access came at the price of having to make like a wall as multiple layers of men and women leaned in to get within earshot of Lowell.
(Memo to self: All the squat thrusts you did this summer just paid a dividend.)
Then came the day's biggest and most pleasant surprise.
Amiable but enigmatic Boston slugger Manny Ramirez, who started his career with the Indians, decided to hold court for only the second time in two years.
That's the good news. The great news was Ramirez was stationed two stalls down from Lowell. All I had to do was pivot slightly to the left to be in the second row for "Manny being Manny.''
The normally media-shy Ramirez stole the show, holding forth on topics ranging from his latest return visit to Jacobs Field, post-home run antics and his team dangling on the edge of postseason oblivion.
"Alright everybody, it's time for the 2 o'clock workout. Let the players do their work,'' said a team official.
With that, the interview session ended and the media types slowly filed out of the clubhouse.
It was just another moment in another October day in Red Sox Nation, where baseball long ago ceased being a pastime and became an obsession.