Dear boys,

I received the following text from a friend last night:

RIP Sox.

I nodded, acknowledging what we all knew was coming. All season long. Because in truth, the 2010 season never had a chance. Or pulse.

You all left me totally uninspired. Actually no. That’s a lie. I was inspired exactly once. Back in June. When Pede went 5 for 5 then was placed on the DL the next day after fouling a ball off his foot and breaking it. I was at that game. And it sucked to watch the one player who showed up every day to work have to limp off the field.

A week later the man, unable to even walk, was fielding grounders from his knees to stay sharp. That desire is what expected to see from all of you every day. Quite frankly, that’s exactly what has been missing from this team since 2007. And I don’t really know what to say to you anymore. I hope you find some in the off season?

To be  perfectly honest, I wanted this season’s story line to be about Mike Lowell. How he stepped in to salvage a season spiraling out of control at the last minute.  After no other team would take him. After everyone said he was too old. And too injured to make a difference. I wanted him to play the part of the wise veteran who doesn’t talk much. Who looks hardened. A serious ballplayer who plays serious ball. Who can rescue a team from the brink because he kind of reminds you a little of Clint Eastwood. If Clint Eastwood played baseball. And was Cuban. I didn’t anticipate it being about injuries. I didn’t expect Josh to fall off the wagon. Or for Lester and Clay to quietly carry the team in his absence.

I’d like to think you’re all disappointed. I’d like to think you cared. I’d like to think this isn’t the end.

But it is.

The Boston Red Sox need a blood transfusion. Many of you won’t be here next year for me to berate. And I will miss you. But it’s for the best. You need someone who will love you unconditionally. And I need someone who can perform under pressure.

I guess we are at an impasse. Or a crossroads. The end. Or whatever you want to call it.

But it’s goodbye. So, thank you for playing out the season. Go home. Get some rest. Work out your demons. And I will see you on some other field in some other city wearing some other uniform.

Best wishes,


2 thoughts on “Dear boys,

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