Uh-oh. The plot thickens in the case of Red Sox third baseman John Valentin vs. Sox doc Arthur Pappas. When we first weighed in on this subject a few weeks ago, we noted that Valentin, like many veteran Sox players, had chosen to avoid having his knee operated on by Pappas, who is not only the team doctor but a part-owner of the Red Sox. Shortly after the surgery, Sox management sent Valentin and his agent a letter stating that the team had not been informed about the operation and that Valentin was therefore in violation of "the terms and conditions" of his contract.

It turns out, according to an article in the Boston Globe last week, that the Sox had been informed about the operation. Dr. David Altchek told the Globe that once Valentin chose him to do the operation, he called Pappas: "We talked about [what Pappas had found in Valentin's knee] and what we would probably do." Altchek, who is the team doctor for the New York Mets, added that this was not in any way unusual. "The way we do this is a gentleman's agreement kind of thing," he said. "We don't stamp each other's forehead, 'You are hereby authorized to do this surgery.' We call each other up and say, 'just saw your player, this is the situation.' "

After the operation, Altchek again reported in to the Sox. Again, standard procedure. "I thought it was shocking that they made a statement saying they didn't have any information," Altchek told the Globe, sounding, well, shocked. "I told them everything I normally do."

It seems clear, in other words, that the Red Sox are lying about what they knew—or didn't know—about Valentin's knee operation. But why? Tag Team offers four possibilities:

1) Pappas is acting out because Valentin rebuffed his "offer" to do the operation. Altchek seemed to imply as much when he said of Pappas, "He probably was not happy that the player was going to see someone else for surgery. No doctor is." But we doubt that is what is going on here. Pappas, after all, gets passed over regularly by Red Sox players who get seriously injured. He's got to be used to it by now.

2) The Red Sox are going to use this incident in an effort to void Valentin's contract. Certainly, the legalistic language of the letter would suggest such a move. But we think it is unlikely. The powerful Major League Players Union would undoubtedly fight it—and would undoubtedly win. Even the Red Sox don't have the stomach for such a potential public relations debacle.

3) Red Sox General Manager Dan Duquette, a control freak of the first order, was miffed that he was not in full control of this situation. This strikes Tag Team as plausible, and it is backed by the following astonishing tidbit (also reported in the Globe story): When former Sox reliever Tom Gordon needed Tommy John surgery last season, Duquette refused to allow Gordon to use Dr. James Andrews, the man who invented Tommy John surgery! Incredibly, Gordon wound up having to negotiate with Duquette over who would perform the operation. (It wasn't Pappas, in case you're wondering.)

4) Duquette is in the midst of a Machiavellian ploy, the purpose of which is to get Valentin so mad that he'll demand a trade—and Duquette will be able to get rid of a popular player he no longer wants around. Having followed the Red Sox his whole life, Tag Team is convinced this is what is happening. Consider: Valentin is 36 years old. Despite his popularity among the fans, and his heroics in last year's playoffs against Cleveland, Valentin's numbers have been declining for several years. He's just suffered a season-ending injury, which doesn't help. A younger player, Wilton Veras, has shown he is ready to step in. And Duquette has a history of running off marquee players he inherited when he took over the team a few years ago—and then placing the blame for their departures on the players themselves. Remember l'affaire Roger Clemens? Remember the Mo Vaughn debacle? Now it's John Valentin's turn. In Boston, the real hardball games are the ones they play off the field.

On another subject entirely ...

If Gregg Easterbrook and I were the kind of guys who bellied up to the bar, threw back brewskies, and spent hours debating whether Larry Bird was a good coach—do such guys still exist?—I would have made the following arguments against Easterbrook's piece and in favor of Larry Legend: