Daddy drama

Before the start of Monday nights Game 5 at Fenway, I found myself, as I frequently do, situated between the offices of Sports Illustrated editors Dick Friedman and B.J. Schecter, two fellow Bostonians who live and die by Red Sox baseball much like myself. I stood there and with a straight face and a clear conscience told them that for Pedro Martinez, this game and this night would define his legacy.

I was wrong.

Tonight's historic Game 7 will be billed as a Derek Lowe vs. Kevin Brown matchup, but it certainly will not end that way. Neither starter has had a particularly effective postseason, and both managers would have to be considered overly optimistic to expect either pitcher to go beyond the fifth inning, which is why Red Sox fans should expect the unexpected.

They should expect to see Martinez.

Pedro threw 111 pitches on Monday night, surrendering four runs and getting a no decision in the Red Sox victory. Asking a starting pitcher to come back and throw on only one day of rest is asking a lot from any pitcher, much less a 32-year-old with a history of arm trouble. But this is not any game, and this is not any series. Martinez got a front row view at what it means to be a warrior Tuesday night, watching his teammate Curt Schilling limp to the mound at Yankee Stadium and through a blood soaked sock covering a tattered ankle that gets worse with every pitch, shut down a Yankee lineup that was hoping for redemption after two losses in Boston. Schilling did his part. Now Pedro needs to do his.

Martinez is the intimidator, a man without fear. He wants to be the guy. He's the heir to Roger Clemens' throne, the man that once told reporters to wake up Babe Ruth so he could hit him in the behind. I never bought into the whole " Yankees are my daddy" routine because that would imply Pedro was afraid of someone. When has he ever shown fear? But it's not about that anymore. It's about a legacy, about being remembered for more than winning three Cy Young awards, or striking out the side in an All-Star Game. It's about more than winning the '99 ALDS. That performance meant a lot. This one would mean more. Tonight's game could be the last for Martinez in a Red Sox uniform. Sometime today he needs to open the door to Terry Francona's office and not just ask but demand to have the ball in his hand sometime tonight. Win or lose, Pedro will take his place among the great pitchers in Red Sox history. Just how great is up to him.

Schilling set the bar. Now Pedro needs to jump over it.

I love Joe Torre. I'm a Red Sox fan first and foremost, but for my money Torre is the best manager in the business. When Jimy Williams was canned two years ago, I wanted Torre. When Grady Little had his meltdown last season, I wanted Torre. And when the Red Sox were down 0-3 on Sunday, and I was making Francona voodoo dolls in the office, I was thinking about Torre. But how foolish must the Yankees skipper have felt running out of the dugout to argue two calls his team knew to be right. First there was the Mark Bellhorn shot, which unless I'm reading my rule book incorrectly and it says somewhere that the chest of a fan in the front row counts as part of the wall, was a clear home run, followed by Alex Rodriguez's tomahawk chop of Bronson Arroyo's left arm. What's interesting is not once was either replay shown on the scoreboard at Yankee Stadium. You can bet if Bernie Williams' eighth inning home run was called foul that replay would have been on a continuous loop.

I've caught a lot of flack over the last couple of days about my choice of the Timberwolves Michael Olowokandi as this seasons Most Improved Player, so much that I feel the need to clarify my position. Do I think the Kandi Man is an All-Star? No, of course not. Do I think he has the potential to be an effective player in a system that asks virtually nothing of him? Absolutely. Coming out of Pacific University, Olowokandi was viewed by everyone as a project, someone with the size and skills to play at the NBA level but lacking the basketball acuity that goes with it. Being drafted by the Clippers, the NBA's version of basketball Siberia didn't help much either. How do you learn to be a team player when no one on the roster wants to be a part of the team? My point is this: Put Olowokandi on a veteran team where the franchise player has a history of getting the most out of his running mates, and there is a very good chance he could thrive.

You remember Jonny Moseley? The former free style gold medalist who hasn't competed on the slopes since 2002 has parlayed his Olympic celebrity into a very cushy position as the host of the annual Real World/Road Rules challenges. My question is this: Will Moseley be remembered more for his daring "Dinner Role" maneuver that knocked him out of medal contention at the 2002 Olympics, or for the fact that he now makes his living announcing events like "Dangle Drop?"