The Red Sox’ refusal to address this disaster speaks volumes
COMMENTARY
It was less than two weeks ago that we suggested in this space that the Red Sox, then only 5 1/2 games out of first place in the American League East despite being seven games under .500, did indeed have a shot at relevance in this suddenly-lost Boston baseball season.
With the next nine games scheduled to be played against the Oakland A’s (23-33 on June 5), the Baltimore Orioles (24-29), and Toronto Blue Jays (25-30), teams with three of the worst records in baseball, here was Boston’s chance to make something of its struggles through the first third of the season against competition it should have — nay, needed — to beat up on if there were any realistic shot of defending the argument that they remain a competitor.
Instead, the pathetically unlikeable Red Sox rolled over for dead.
After sweeping the lowly A’s (26-39, worst record in the AL) at Fenway Park, a series that culminated with the largest comeback of the season, the Red Sox went and found every which way possible to drop the final six games of the stretch, finishing 3-6, and convincing everybody but the “Sweet Caroline’’ hangers-on that the 2015 edition is as good as buried. For good measure, the Sox dropped a miserable, rain-soaked affair to the Braves Monday night.
And yet, the only movement we’ve witnessed from the front office might as well be shadow puppets.
Manager John Farrell is going to be fired. He’s going to be fired too late to salvage anything from this abysmal excuse for a baseball team, but he will be fired. General manager Ben Cherington will likely keep plugging along, if only because he is solely the face of what has suddenly become an incompetent baseball operations department. Cherington takes the blame along with the credit, but the issues run far deeper than the GM’s constant lack of expression suggests.
Team owner John Henry has professed faith in this group, 27-38 thus far on the season, in last place in the AL East and on a 68-win pace that even Bobby Valentine can laugh at. Was a fortnight of floundering enough to — finally — change his mind?
Since Henry stood before the media on June 2 and professed that “Everything is Awesome,’’ despite the fact that his team had played like “bleep,’’ the Red Sox are a scorching 5-9, while the Jays and Orioles have gone 10-1 and 8-4, respectively, to leave Boston in the dust of irrelevancy. Just like that, in a matter of days, Henry’s most expensive baseball investment ever ($180 million-plus), went up in a smoke that even the ever-patient, projection-friendly owner had to be seething over.
This is the worst Red Sox team in a generation, not because of a poor collection of talent, but because of the uneven way that talent meshes. It is the most dysfunctional Red Sox team in most of our lifetimes because it isn’t remotely clear what its identity should be.
Those in power and able to do anything about it though continue to wear blinders and insist the way this season has started is an aberration. This, despite the fact that the Red Sox have been in last place for much of the time since they raised their World Series banner last April. It’s gotten to such a stalemate that we have to wonder if the Red Sox, even mired in the dregs of baseball, are content to instead count the cash the fifth-best attended park in baseball shuttles in.
“So good. So good.’’
Fenway Park has become a disgrace, a funeral parlor that inevitably awakens, for God knows what the hell reason, with that wretched song in the eighth inning. Is this still a novelty for some, like walking past “Cheers’’ and thinking you’re going to catch a glimpse of Norm Peterson? I hesitate to even call it a Boston “tradition,’’ for it is not, but at what point do we get this embarrassing stain off of our collective plates? The Red Sox were losing 13-5 to the Blue Jays on Sunday when Neil Diamond’s abomination resounded through the ballpark. Thirteen to five. Yet, as always, thousands of clueless sheep stood up and swayed to the music, before finally exiting the Tomb of the Depressing.
These are the people the Red Sox cater to. Not exactly the sort of group that’s going to demand change when the going gets rough.
They are also the problem. As long as that segment of the fandom exists, the Red Sox can excuse themselves by living off the “projections,’’ and simply re-tool for the following year when things inevitably go awry once again. There are preschoolers more decisive than the Red Sox are about what their general philosophy should be. The fact that it sways depending upon which way the wind blows in any particular year should give fans some pause about their overall, general sense of baseball acumen.
Is Cherington putting this team together, or is it Nostradamus Bill James, who seemingly botched every projection he had for every player on this roster? Because if the latter is the reason why the former has been handcuffed in his ability to make any significant change in time before the season fell out from under him, then this team — this franchise — is screwed.
The time has come for dramatic measures, which include not only firing the manager, but having serious discussions about the benefits of trading veterans David Ortiz and Dustin Pedroia. They may be the links to a glorious, all-too-recent past, but the current state of affairs and immediate future for this club are so dour, how can they not be in play?
These Sox had one last chance. They, instead, vomited all over it.
They are an abomination. And yet, nothing has changed.
Bom. Bom. Bom.
The Red Sox’ disastrous week in photos
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