Redsocks probed Carl Crawford

Some call it a "background check." Some call it a "backdoor investigation." Saturday, the Beantown Brownshirts were tap-dancing like Fred Wilpon at a $100 talent show over a report that they paid secret agents to hydrofrack Carl Crawford, scouring every pimple of the former Devil Ray for a tattoo or skin piercing, a vein of Charlie Sheen, before the Boston owners' insectlike pincers would sign the check that transformed Crawford into Redsock sainthood.

We know it's true, because they deny it:

“We did not hire a private investigator,’’ said (Theo Epstein) the Sox general manager yesterday. “We did not follow Carl away from the park. We would never go that far. We simply had our scouts do a thorough job on his background and makeup, the way we do for all players of interest."

Yeah. Right. Welcome to The Gawk Machine, Mr. C, and while you stand naked in the carwash, please bend over. You'll hear strange sounds. Don't worry. It's just Fimble Fingers Epstein and half the Boston Herald city desk donning rubber gloves. By the way, do you have any overdue library videos directed by Russ Meyers? Any late night trips to a Tampa emergency room, accompanied by John Travolta? 

Compare to Boston, we're like the debtors colony of 18th century Georgia. When we signed Bartolo Colon and Freddie Garcia, the required physicals must have resembled a New York State Motor Vehicles car inspection. "Can you hop 30 times on one foot, Freddie? No? No problem." "Nah, Bartolo, leave your pants on. We've seen enough!"

As we speak, Redsock operatives are probaby tailing Alphonso, as he plans his March trip. Let's hope they get too close. His Russ Meyers collection could scorch some tender eyelids.