What they should trade one of these out-fielders for is a pitcher--three or four pitchers, for that matter. Boston's league-leading activity should not obscure the fact that its pitching staff ranges from erratic to pathetic: the team tends to win games by scores like 11: 8, 10-9, a match of 7-5 is a veritable duel of greathurlers. An Earned Run Average of 3.50 is unheard of, and the relief pitching is so bad that the bullpen ought to be seized by a people's tribunal and converted into several homes for working-class families. Even the cheerleading Boston press has become exasperated with this bunch: Globe columnist Bob Ryan in a recent evaluation of the team that drew much are from the more reverent fans, wrote that relievers Regger Cleveland and Diego Segin should be placed in a small airplane with Amelia Earhart at the controls, a comment that, for all its validity, led two players to bodily attack Ryan the next time he dared show his face in the locker room. They were fined. Other pitchers include Rogelio Moret, tall, skinny, last and independable; and Rick Wise, a fastball pitcher with a good strikeout record and a heart-breaking no-hitter until two outs in the ninth when big, very big George Scott, the former Red Sox first baseman who was traded despite his great value, stepped up to the plate, leered above his animal-tooth lovebeads and slammed a home run. He loved taking his revenge. The next player proceeded to hit another homer, and a Boston pitcher's bid for immortality dribbled away down the parking lot of Milwaukee's County Stadium. It might be mentioned that the aforementioned Reggie Cleveland, who is a Canadian, is an expect in the spot of curling. This sums it up. Most of the rest of the staff is untried and probably untrue.

Boston's two best pitchers, however, are extremely likeable and colorful guys, and generally fine throwers, Bill Lee, known as the Spaceman, is Boston's only freak. Recently he lost his temper after a bad day and called the Boston fans "racist," proclaiming that the only man in this town with any guts is Judge Garrity. This precipitated much inane commentary from the press on mixing athletics with social criticism, but on the whole the reporters like him because he's a good source: he may be Lost in Space from time to time but he's got more brains and charm than anyone on the Rad Sox. His post-game lectures on the TV news on the subject of the astrological influences on his curve ball that night are particularly edifying. In fact, his curve ball can be quite fine--he's second in the rotation and has one of the best pick-off motions in beautiful. A California, a health food fanatic, he may be seen from the bleachers practicing, yoga in the bullpen on afternoons when the planers are right.

Lala Tiant. In all fairness to Boston's pitching staff. El Tlante, out ace is truly an ace-one of the best pitchers in the game. A few years ago, the Sex picked him upon waivers: Minnesota thought he was over the hill. It was a real aberration for the front office-a smart move, and Tiant has been a steady 20-game winner ever since. Luis has got style. Roger Angell of the New Yorker has called him "the archeologist" (because he picks up the ball and looks are it as if it were a fossil before he lets fly), and an early stage in his complex motion is a rhythmic shaking of the ball, in glove, shoving it down his body in an erotic dance. Tiant's family lives in Cuba, and on a recent visit George McGovern fixed it up with Fidel so that they could come and watch him pitch later in the season.

Carlton Fisk, Boston's star-crossed catcher, is back again-and a great hometown favorite because of his New Hampshire background (sometimes the hometown is no favorite of his-the other day he gave the finger to booing fans, but who can blame him? The press can and did, actually). Fisk was Rookie of the Year in 1972, but a groin injury, a viciously torn cartilage and a broken arm have kept him in the game sporadically until a few weeks ago. Since then he's been terrific, but every time a runner comes hustling home with spikes high you get a lump in your throat-there's something doomed about the guy. Red Sox fans have nightmares about this sort of thing after what happened to Tony Conigliam. But we've wandering.

A few crucial players are left and they will get cheated here as they so often do in most of the coverage. The winner of the Ripped Off-of-the Year award this season is Coell Cooper, who has the terrible misfortune of bring a first baseman. Coop (he needs a nickname badly-partly because he's always coming up to pich, hit in the clutch) has been designated hitter lately, and has done so brilliantly at the plate that they've been playing him more and more. He's leading the team in batting although he has too few at-bats for the league standings.

Rick Burleson, in his second year at shortstop, already is the hub of the infield. A real hustler, and highly underrated. Rooster, as he is called, is in a hitting slump now. Denny Doyle is the new second baseman, and now that he's with a hot team he's exceeded all expectations (which, admittedly, weren't much, but you get cynical about these deals). Doug Griffin, the regular second baseman, gets injured constantly, but is a fine infielder as well. At third base, well, the less said about Rico Petrocelli the better, although some think differently. Everyone has their love-to-hate choice on the Red Sox, I guess. One might mention that he was recently sued by a stewardess for alleged in flight misconduct but was acquitted. Which sounds like a nasty thing to reveal, but again, one begins to love-to-hate.

Bob Heise also plays third and he is number 12. More information about him might be made public sometime in the future but now he is over-shadowed by a star-bright squad. The same goes for backup catcher Tim Blackwell, a fine fielding catcher who is generally considered the worst hitter since George, Chuvalo, perhaps unfairly. Bob Montgomery is another catcher probably soon to say adieu.

You look at this crew one way and they're the Charge of the Light Brigade. They've just won seven straight now, though, and people in Boston are getting hysterical. Dubious, still, perhaps-last year's experience was too depressing. But give it a week or so. There's a run-off with the Yankees coming up, and soon it might be just like the days of sore. And all will be forgiven again