My Life Behind a Tiny Green Wall: Memoirs of a Bullpen Catcher

Trust me, it's only a matter of time before the above title becomes the "literary work" of a Boston Red Sox beat writer.

Allow me to set the scene: "The smell of steamed hot dogs and cheap beer wafts playfully through the air, and the distant ringing of a bullpen phone can be heard in the background. But my focus is singular: Only the man in front of me matters. Encased in a green cell twice as long as it is wide, surrounded by a gang of amateur musicians banging out tunes on water bottles and cleat picks, I hear only the pop of my catcher's mitt. I glare into the eyes of the focused closer as he prepares to fire another critical warm-up pitch my way ..."

It's not as outrageous as you may think. For among the most maddening of the residual effects of the Red Sox becoming a world-wide phenomenon is the glut of crappy works churned out by the horde that follows the team on a daily basis. Take a stroll through the sports library at your local Borders and you'll be bombarded by no fewer than 10 titles by previously unknown writers attached to the BoSox.

There's entries from the big guns (the Dan Shaughnessys and the Tony Massarottis) as well as the newcomers (Rob Bradford? Is there any proof he can even write?). Even our beloved Jerry Remy - who I guess has never been shy about hocking his wares - has a few submissions. But the list is incredible: Massarotti, Shaughnessy, Remy, Bradford, Michael Holley, Steve Buckley - they all have written "books" that are in some way related to the Red Sox.

It's a sad state of affairs. These men were presumably hired for their razor-sharp writing styles and discerning eye for hard-hitting sports news, and yet they have all spit out the same thing: Well-packaged and pretty-pictured volumes of fluff.

Talk about chasing a quick buck. Bradford wrote a biography about Mike Lowell, Buckley wrote some sort of memoir of classic stories around the park, and Massarotti, Shaughnessy and Holley "chronicled" seasons after their completion. Forgive me for being cynical, but isn't their job to chronical the season. Seems like some cheap double-dipping to me. And the fact that all these books hit the shelves less than eight months after the Sox wrapped up a championship says plenty about the thorough effort put into each one.

I realize that any of us would likely jump at the chance to spend 25 minutes on some hogwash and rake in thousands shortly thereafter, so it's hard to blame them for their business sense. But would it kill them for some substance. An opinion, maybe? How about a stance, on anything? Instead we get drivel almost directly from the Red Sox' mouths.

That's a big part of the problem. It should be noted that I, by day, am a member of the media. Not the Boston media, per se, but a sports writer nonetheless.  And I find it amusing that these guys spend six months a year ripping the manager and all the players on a daily basis, but they don't think twice about crafting a lovey-dovey biography about the same people in the off-season. Apparently, credibility is no longer part of the job description for sports journalists in the Bay State.

Holley and Massarotti are particularly interesting culprits (Shaughnessy doesn't count, because everyone hated him already anyway). Holley capitalized on the Patriots fame with the speedily-penned Patriot Reign, and recently followed with the not-so-creatively-titled Red Sox Rule (I can't wait for Celtics Celebration and Bruins Bash). In Red Sox Rule he routinely rips the reputation of the Boston media, a crowd he's no stranger to given his work in newspapers, television and WEEI talk radio (I think that's just about all that can be described by the word "media"). He's essentially written two books on two teams in two sports without offering a single fact he had to uncover himself.

And Massarotti has gone from an insightful beat writer to a spotlight-hungry columnist bent on writing the most explosive article of the day. Though his beat has long been baseball, he trashed New England fans around Super Bowl time and has written two or three books to make sure he takes full advantage of his 15 minutes. Once understated and interesting, he went from 0 to pompous in under six seconds.

It's too bad that the Red Sox' celebrity reaches so far as to make people who already get paid to do one job famous for half-assing another. Find me another sports town where a half-dozen newspaper reporters have best-selling books about the same baseball team in the same year, and I'll find you an easy-to-read map of downtown Boston.

Again, I suppose it's difficult to blame the reporters for chasing the green. They have jobs in a market where they can become recognizable figures, and they have all taken full advantage. Some might even call it savvy.

But I honestly don't care what you call it. Books like this only contribute to the dumbing down of the average baseball fan. People who wonder how Jason Varitek can get voted into the All-Star game when he's hitting .215 have their answer right here.

And it seems to me that these men have a responsibility to do just the opposite. I go to work every day with the intent of enlightening my readers about whatever it is I cover. I can't imagine spouting one opinion in newsprint and backing another in a hardcover. To me, it breaks a critical unwritten rule of journalism.

Of course, with these guys around, it's not likely to remain unwritten for long.