Red Sox put RHP Justin Slaten (shoulder) on 15-day IL
June 1 - The Boston Red Sox put right-handed reliever Justin Slaten on the 15-day injury list due to shoulder inflammation.
It was one of several roster moves the Red Sox made Sunday morning, which included replacing Slaten on the roster with right-hander Luis Guerrero. The latter was called up from Triple-A Worcester.
The Red Sox also selected the contract of utility player Nate Eaton and optioned infielder Nick Sogard to Triple-A, designating catcher Blake Sabol for assignment to clear roster space.
Slaten, 27, has been a key piece of Boston's relief staff this spring, despite his 1-4 record. He has appeared in 24 games with a 3.47 ERA over 23 1/3 innings.
A third-round pick of the Texas Rangers in 2019, Slaten is in his second season with the Red Sox. A year ago, he went 6-2 with a 2.93 ERA and 58 strikeouts over 44 appearances.
He's been less dominant in 2025 and has cited fatigue as a reason for the dip.
Guerrero, 24, has been stellar in limited major league action over two seasons, posting a sparkling 0.59 ERA over 15 1/3 innings (13 appearances).
Overall, Guerrero is 14-12 with a 3.11 ERA in 133 minor league appearances.
Eaton, who plays the outfield and third base, was a 21st-round 2018 draft pick of the Royals. He has with 159 major league at-bats, hitting .201. The 28-year-old last appeared in the majors for Kansas City in 2023.
Sogard, 27, hit .245 for Boston this year in 14 games (49 at-bats).
Sabol, 27, has an even smaller sample size this year than Sogard (eight games, 16 at-bats), but has had limited success, batting .125.
--Field Level Media
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The Guardian
25 minutes ago
- The Guardian
Less death, more social media: Formula One films decades apart reveal a changed world
'Let's try to get the season off to a good start, shall we? Drive the car. Don't try to stand it on its bloody ear.' Have you watched the movie? It's about a rule-breaking American Formula One driver, the kind who blows past blue flags and crashes into his own teammate. You must have heard of it. They shot it in real race cars, across some of the most prestigious circuits in the world. It even had contemporary world championship drivers making notable cameos on the track. If you've never watched 1966's Grand Prix, now is the time to do it. This summer's blockbuster slot may belong to F1; and its director, Joseph Kosinski, may have gone to extraordinary lengths to capture the visceral speed of the fastest class in motor sport. But John Frankenheimer got there first. The close parallels between the two films have gone largely unremarked in the reviews. Six decades ago, when the glamour of the sport was peaking, Frankenheimer set out to capture its thrill, daring and inescapable danger. He fixed cameras to the chassis of Formula Two cars – the same substitute Kosinski has used – that hared round Brands Hatch, Spa, Monaco. Like Kosinski, he spliced real race footage into his own. His American lead, James Garner, did his own driving, just like Brad Pitt. There are even occasional shots in Kosinski's film that seem to pay tribute, intentional or not, to its predecessor – the moment that recalls Frankenheimer's stylistic use of split-screen, or when Pitt jogs around the old Monza banking. F1 the Movie, to be clear, is a billion-dollar industry giving itself a full valet – shampooed squeaky clean and buffed to an impossible sheen. But it's also the kind of sports-washing I'm prepared to indulge for the sake of the pure adrenaline thrill. After watching Top Gun: Maverick at the cinema, I walked straight back in for the next screening and sat in the front row so I could pretend to be in the cockpit. At the Imax this week I was practically climbing into the screen. I was definitely the only woman my age leaning into the turns, and wishing they would stop cutting back to Pitt's face so that I got more track time. For a bit of perspective, I had gone with my father, a man with a decades-long following of motor sport and a habit of nitpicking at movie details. Ten minutes into F1's opening track sequence he leaned over, and I braced for a critique of the pit crew's refuelling technique. 'We can go home now,' he whispered. 'It's good enough already.' A movie that can impress my father with its motor racing action deserves all the hype it gets. But neither he nor I had anticipated just how much it would remind us of Grand Prix – or how well that 59-year-old work would stand up in comparison. The Silverstone marching band, paraded past the clubhouse by a moustachioed sergeant-major, has given way to night-race fireworks in Las Vegas, and the ruinous cost of running an F1 team has jumped from a few hundred thousand to £100m. The stomach-buzz as the asphalt whizzes beneath you remains the same. Putting the two stories side by side does, however, show you interesting ways the sport has changed. Grand Prix's opening lingers, fetishistically, over images of working pistons and twisting wrenches. Such lowly mechanical details are almost entirely absent in F1, where the team headquarters looks like a space station and every element of the engineering process is rendered in gleaming sci-fi. There's also a lot less death. Frankenheimer's crashes are genuinely shocking – not because the stunts are realistic (and they are) but because of the bluntness of their outcome. Drivers are catapulted from their seats to fall on whatever part of the landscape they meet first. Spectators aren't safe either. The fact that horrifying incidents are a part of the public's fascination with Formula One is a recurring theme. 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The Independent
35 minutes ago
- The Independent
Many forget the damage done by diseases like whooping cough, measles and rubella. Not these families
In the time before widespread vaccination, death often came early. Devastating infectious diseases ran rampant in America, killing millions of children and leaving others with lifelong health problems. These illnesses were the main reason why nearly one in five children in 1900 never made it to their fifth birthday. Over the next century, vaccines virtually wiped out long-feared scourges like polio and measles and drastically reduced the toll of many others. Today, however, some preventable, contagious diseases are making a comeback as vaccine hesitancy pushes immunization rates down. And well-established vaccines are facing suspicion even from public officials, with Robert F. Kennedy Jr., a longtime anti-vaccine activist, running the federal health department. 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Getting rubella while pregnant shaped two lives With a mother's practiced, guiding hand, 80-year-old Janith Farnham helped steer her 60-year-old daughter's walker through a Sioux Falls art center. They stopped at a painting of a cow wearing a hat. Janith pointed to the hat, then to her daughter Jacque's Minnesota Twins cap. Jacque did the same. 'That's so funny!' Janith said, leaning in close to say the words in sign language too. Jacque was born with congenital rubella syndrome, which can cause a host of issues including hearing impairment, eye problems, heart defects and intellectual disabilities. There was no vaccine against rubella back then, and Janith contracted the viral illness very early in the pregnancy, when she had up to a 90% chance of giving birth to a baby with the syndrome. Janith recalled knowing 'things weren't right' almost immediately. The baby wouldn't respond to sounds or look at anything but lights. She didn't like to be held close. 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They often hang out at Janith's townhome, where Jacque has another bedroom decorated with her own artwork and quilts Janith sewed for her. Jacque loves playing with Janith's dog, watching sports on television and looking up things on her iPad. Janith marvels at Jacque's sense of humor, gratefulness, curiosity and affectionate nature despite all she's endured. Jacque is generous with kisses and often signs 'double I love yous' to family, friends and new people she meets. 'When you live through so much pain and so much difficulty and so much challenge, sometimes I think: Well, she doesn't know any different,' Janith said. Given what her family has been through, Janith believes younger people are being selfish if they choose not to get their children the MMR shot against measles, mumps and rubella. 'It's more than frustrating. I mean, I get angry inside,' she said. 'I know what can happen, and I just don't want anybody else to go through this.' Delaying the measles vaccine can be deadly More than half a century has passed, but Patricia Tobin still vividly recalls getting home from work, opening the car door and hearing her mother scream. Inside the house, her little sister Karen lay unconscious on the bathroom floor. It was 1970, and Karen was 6. She'd contracted measles shortly after Easter. While an early vaccine was available, it wasn't required for school in Miami where they lived. Karen's doctor discussed immunizing the first grader, but their mother didn't share his sense of urgency. 'It's not that she was against it," Tobin said. "She just thought there was time.' Then came a measles outbreak. Karen – who Tobin described as a 'very endearing, sweet child' who would walk around the house singing – quickly became very sick. The afternoon she collapsed in the bathroom, Tobin, then 19, called the ambulance. Karen never regained consciousness. 'She immediately went into a coma and she died of encephalitis,' said Tobin, who stayed at her bedside in the hospital. 'We never did get to speak to her again.' Today, all states require that children get certain vaccines to attend school. But a growing number of people are making use of exemptions allowed for medical, religious or philosophical reasons. Vanderbilt's Schaffner said fading memories of measles outbreaks were exacerbated by a fraudulent, retracted study claiming a link between the MMR shot and autism. The result? Most states are below the 95% vaccination threshold for kindergartners — the level needed to protect communities against measles outbreaks. 'I'm very upset by how cavalier people are being about the measles,' Tobin said. 'I don't think that they realize how destructive this is.' Polio changed a life twice One of Lora Duguay's earliest memories is lying in a hospital isolation ward with her feverish, paralyzed body packed in ice. She was three years old. 'I could only see my parents through a glass window. They were crying and I was screaming my head off,' said Duguay, 68. 'They told my parents I would never walk or move again.' It was 1959 and Duguay, of Clearwater, Florida, had polio. It mostly preyed on children and was one of the most feared diseases in the U.S., experts say, causing some terrified parents to keep children inside and avoid crowds during epidemics. Given polio's visibility, the vaccine against it was widely and enthusiastically welcomed. But the early vaccine that Duguay got was only about 80% to 90% effective. Not enough people were vaccinated or protected yet to stop the virus from spreading. Duguay initially defied her doctors. After intensive treatment and physical therapy, she walked and even ran – albeit with a limp. She got married, raised a son and worked as a medical transcriptionist. But in her early 40s, she noticed she couldn't walk as far as she used to. A doctor confirmed she was in the early stages of post-polio syndrome, a neuromuscular disorder that worsens over time. One morning, she tried to stand up and couldn't move her left leg. After two weeks in a rehab facility, she started painting to stay busy. Eventually, she joined arts organizations and began showing and selling her work. Art "gives me a sense of purpose,' she said. These days, she can't hold up her arms long enough to create big oil paintings at an easel. So she pulls her wheelchair up to an electric desk to paint on smaller surfaces like stones and petrified wood. The disease that changed her life twice is no longer a problem in the U.S. So many children get the vaccine — which is far more effective than earlier versions — that it doesn't just protect individuals but it prevents occasional cases that arrive in the U.S. from spreading further. ' Herd immunity " keeps everyone safe by preventing outbreaks that can sicken the vulnerable. After whooping cough struck, 'she was gone' Every night, Katie Van Tornhout rubs a plaster cast of a tiny foot, a vestige of the daughter she lost to whooping cough at just 37 days old. Callie Grace was born on Christmas Eve 2009 after Van Tornhout and her husband tried five years for a baby. She was six weeks early but healthy. 'She loved to have her feet rubbed," said the 40-year-old Lakeville, Indiana mom. "She was this perfect baby.' When Callie turned a month old, she began to cough, prompting a visit to the doctor, who didn't suspect anything serious. By the following night, Callie was doing worse. They went back. In the waiting room, she became blue and limp in Van Tornhout's arms. The medical team whisked her away and beat lightly on her back. She took a deep breath and giggled. Though the giggle was reassuring, the Van Tornhouts went to the ER, where Callie's skin turned blue again. For a while, medical treatment helped. But at one point she started squirming, and medical staff frantically tried to save her. 'Within minutes,' Van Tornhout said, 'she was gone.' Van Tornhout recalled sitting with her husband and their lifeless baby for four hours, "just talking to her, thinking about what could have been.' Callie's viewing was held on her original due date – the same day the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention called to confirm she had pertussis, or whooping cough. She was too young for the Tdap vaccine against it and was exposed to someone who hadn't gotten their booster shot. Today, next to the cast of Callie's foot is an urn with her ashes and a glass curio cabinet filled with mementos like baby shoes. 'My kids to this day will still look up and say, 'Hey Callie, how are you?'' said Van Tornhout, who has four children and a stepson. 'She's part of all of us every day.' Van Tornhout now advocates for childhood immunization through the nonprofit Vaccinate Your Family. She also shares her story with people she meets, like a pregnant customer who came into the restaurant her family ran saying she didn't want to immunize her baby. She later returned with her vaccinated four-month-old. 'It's up to us as adults to protect our children – like, that's what a parent's job is,' Van Tornhout said. 'I watched my daughter die from something that was preventable … You don't want to walk in my shoes.' ____ The Associated Press Health and Science Department receives support from the Howard Hughes Medical Institute's Department of Science Education and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. The AP is solely responsible for all content.
The Independent
36 minutes ago
- The Independent
Takeaways from interviews with families forever changed by diseases that vaccines can prevent
In the time before widespread vaccination, devastating infectious diseases ran rampant in America, killing millions of children and leaving others with lifelong health problems. Over the next century, vaccines virtually wiped out long-feared scourges like polio and measles and drastically reduced the toll of many others. Today, however, some preventable, contagious diseases are making a comeback as vaccine hesitancy pushes immunization rates down. And well-established vaccines are facing suspicion even from public officials, with Robert F. Kennedy Jr., a longtime anti-vaccine activist, running the federal health department. 'This concern, this hesitancy, these questions about vaccines are a consequence of the great success of the vaccines – because they eliminated the diseases,' said Dr. William Schaffner, an infectious disease expert at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. 'If you're not familiar with the disease, you don't respect or even fear it. And therefore you don't value the vaccine.' Anti-vaccine activists even portray the shots as a threat, focusing on the rare risk of side effects while ignoring the far larger risks posed by the diseases themselves — and years of real-world data that experts say proves the vaccines are safe. Some Americans know the reality of vaccine-preventable diseases all too well. Here are takeaways from interviews with a few of them by The Associated Press. Getting a disease while pregnant can change two lives. Janith Farnham has helped shepherd her daughter Jacque through life for decades. Jacque, 60, was born with congenital rubella syndrome, which resulted in hearing, eye and heart problems at birth. There was no vaccine against rubella back then, and Janith contracted it in early pregnancy. Though Janith, 80, did all she could to help Jacque thrive, the condition took its toll. Jacque eventually developed diabetes, glaucoma, autistic behaviors and arthritis. Today, Jacque lives in an adult residential home and gets together with Janith four or five days a week. Janith marvels at Jacque's sense of humor and affectionate nature despite all she's endured. Jacque is generous with kisses and often signs 'double I love yous,' even to new people she meets. Given what her family has been through, Janith finds it 'more than frustrating' when people choose not to get children the MMR shot against measles, mumps and rubella. 'I know what can happen,' she said. 'I just don't want anybody else to go through this.' Delaying a vaccine can be deadly. More than half a century has passed, but Patricia Tobin still vividly recalls seeing her little sister Karen unconscious on the bathroom floor. It was 1970, Karen was 6, and she had measles. The vaccine against it wasn't required for school in Miami where they lived. Though Karen's doctor discussed immunizing the first grader, their mother didn't share his sense of urgency. 'It's not that she was against it,' Tobin said. 'She just thought there was time.' Then came a measles outbreak. After she collapsed in the bathroom, Karen never regained consciousness. She died of encephalitis. 'We never did get to speak to her again,' Tobin said. Today, all states require that children get certain vaccines to attend school. But a growing number of people are making use of exemptions. Vanderbilt's Schaffner said fading memories of measles outbreaks were exacerbated by a fraudulent, retracted study claiming a link between the MMR shot and autism. The result? Most states are below the 95% vaccination threshold for kindergartners — the level needed to protect communities against measles outbreaks. Preventable diseases can have long-term effects. One of Lora Duguay's earliest memories is lying in a hospital isolation ward with her feverish, paralyzed body packed in ice. She was three years old. It was 1959 and Duguay, of Clearwater, Florida, had polio. It was one of the most feared diseases in the U.S., experts say, causing some terrified parents to keep children inside and avoid crowds during epidemics. Given polio's visibility, the vaccine against it was widely and enthusiastically welcomed. Given polio's visibility, the vaccine against it was widely and enthusiastically welcomed. But the early vaccine that Duguay got was only about 80% to 90% effective. Not enough people were vaccinated or protected yet to stop the virus from spreading. Though treatment helped her walk again, she eventually developed post-polio syndrome, a neuromuscular disorder that worsens over time. She now gets around in a wheelchair. The disease that changed her life twice is no longer a problem in the U.S. So many children get the vaccine — which is far more effective than earlier versions — that it doesn't just protect individuals but it prevents occasional cases that arrive in the U.S. from spreading further and protects the vulnerable. When people aren't vaccinated, the vulnerable remain at risk. Every night, Katie Van Tornhout rubs a plaster cast of a tiny foot, a vestige of the daughter she lost to whooping cough at just 37 days old. Callie Grace was born on Christmas Eve 2009. When she turned a month old, she began having symptoms of pertussis, or whooping cough. She was too young for the Tdap vaccine against it and was exposed to someone who hadn't gotten their booster shot. At the hospital, Van Tornhout recalled, the medical staff frantically tried to save her, but 'within minutes, she was gone.' Today, Callie remains part of her family's life, and Van Tornhout shares the story with others as she advocates for vaccination. 'It's up to us as adults to protect our children – like, that's what a parent's job is,' Van Tornhout said. 'I watched my daughter die from something that was preventable … You don't want to walk in my shoes.' ____ The Associated Press Health and Science Department receives support from the Howard Hughes Medical Institute's Department of Science Education and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. The AP is solely responsible for all content.
