Is It OK To Come Out Now?

There are a lot of things to be said about the 2006 season. Although the season technically ended today with a blowout of a rainout, it's been over for some time. But, it's been some time since the Red Sox have shown any signs of life, and a resigned Nation has taken to looking towards next year, including yours truly. Where to start? What to discuss? Is there anyone to blame? What can be done for next year?

For now, let's consider the broader angles. This was a trying season. If 2004 was 'The Party', and 2005 was the 'The Hangover', then 2006 was undoubtedly 'That Lingering Feeling You Get After A Hangover, That Doesn't Really Hurt, But Reminds You The Hangover Was, At One Point, There'. Did you get all that? This was the year where we still remembered 2004, but all the celebrations, hand pounds, sparkling jerseys and myriad fan gear began to lose their luster. For the first half of the year, the Sox did what we wanted them to do: first place, division lead for most of the time, and more late-inning heroics than you can shake a stick at. So, what happened?

The trading deadline, that's what.

It's nothing you can quantify, but it is a common assertion that all sports revolve around momentum. Baseball is no different. When the trading deadline came around, the Sox were barely above water, and the Yankees appeared to be steadying themselves with newfound confidence on their sea legs. The pundits preached and we believed Boston wouldn't make any major move, and we were right. Unfortunately, nobody really believed that the Yankees would land somebody like Bobby Abreu. Wait a second, check that. Nobody believed the Phillies were stupid. Or, at least, that stupid.

So, anyways, when the Bombers landed the big fish and the Pilgrims pulled up an empty hook (sorry). The times had changed. Injuries hit, hit again, and again, and again. The bench and stray pickups made by the front office failed to answer the call consistently, if at all, and our prized rookies began to hit the expected bumps in the road. It was a mountain of adversity impossible for all but the deepest of teams to overcome. And so, slipping somewhere near the top, the Olde Towne Team began a snowball's journey down the side of that mountain until they ended up where they are now: the third place team in a division of overpaid mashers.

What has this done for the fans? Well, for starters, tickets have been easier to acquire. Eric Wilbur's aptly named "Pink Hats" seem to have lost a good chunk of their interest, and finger pointing, lots of finger pointing, has becoming the Nation's own one-fingered salute. It's Theo's fault, it's Manny's fault, it's Way Back Beckett's fault, it's Lucchino's fault... everyone has a share of the blame.

In truth, it's Eptstein himself who manages to find the appropriate balance of perspective:

"I think two separate factors contributed to our second-half collapse," Epstein said Saturday in an interview with the Courant. "First, we had an imperfect team: weaknesses that we masked in the first half but were revealed in second half of the season. Second, we had a series of injuries to key players that was devastating. Those two factors both contributed, but the second factor should not disguise the existence of the first." (Hartford Courant, Sunday, October 1)

One side of the fan base jumps all over the 'selfish' general manager and his convoluted plan for a long-term overhaul of the existing Red Sox modus operandi. Long term? Who gives a hoot about 2010, when a payroll of just over $131 million will get us just shy of second place and a Vlad Guerrero-esque stone's throw from the top spot? And just what has this plan gotten us so far? Nothing but overworked, overexposed rookies and patchwork pitching. The other side of the fan base laments the work of the cruel Fates, spinning the season's end before the schedule entered the final third. Injuries, the bane of every would-be playoff contender and each also-ran, plagued this team like no other. There was no way they could be expected to compete.

Both are right, and both are wrong. We won't really know until this offseason gets underway after the World Series just what direction we'll be leaning towards in 2007. Odds are we're going to see a much younger team on the field next year, and I'd be willing to bet on heavier pursuit of free agents and less willingness to dump prospects for current stars.

It is OK to come out now, after all. The mind-numbing repetition of this season's problems have, for the moment, abated, and the offseason will now allow those of us who forced distance from the field upon ourselves for the last month to reenter the arena slowly, and painlessly.

Man, I can't wait for 2007, can you?

A Little Light On This Subject

Baseball has a new no-hitter, breaking a two year dought, and it was thrown by someone close to the Red Sox and their organization. Anibal Sanchez, throw-in for the Marlins in the Josh Beckett deal, tossed a beauty for the fish and an empty house last night, recording his milestone in an outing against the Diamondbacks.

Remember him? He was supposed to be borderline. Or was he?

This is basically insult to the myriad injuries that the Red Sox have attempted to weather over the last month and a half. Sanchez's success, as well as the success of fellow Marlin Hanley Ramirez, Padre standout Cla Meredith, and the Bucs' likely National League batting champion, Freddy Sanchez, is indicative of the kind of murmuring that's going on all over New England.

Is Theo as great as we think?

The answer, of course, is "We don't know." It's still too early to pass judgement on the products of Epstein's long-term plan. Josh Beckett, in the eyes of most, is going to be a different pitcher in 2007. Jonathan Papelbon, Craig Hansen, Manny Delcarmen, and Dustin Pedroia are likely going to get better as well. It is not much of a stretch to say that the success of these former Sox is due, in large part, to two things that are very related to one another. Actually, check that. Their success is due to one thing: the National League.

To take nothing away from each of those players, for their accomplishments are nothing to brush aside, the American League is, quite simply, better. One need do nothing but look at the interleague record from this year, the general state of the NL East, and at the last couple World Series champions to see proof of this. In the fishbowl that is Boston, Massachusetts, these players would be playing a different kind of baseball. They would be constantly reminded of every miscue, every wasted at-bat, every home run allowed. They would have their lives invaded, their thoughts hijacked, as this reporter and then that try to get a piece of the player to bring back to their editors and readers. I'm going to walk out on a limb and say that Anibal Sanchez doesn't throw a no-hitter with the Red Sox, and that Freddy Sanchez doesn't keep a season-long choke hold on the lead for the batting title. Hanley Ramirez, in a system like Boston's, loses a dimension of his skill, his speed, and has to see nearly twice as manny off-speed and breaking pitches than with Florida.

To be sure, things do not look good for Theo in the public eye. His fiasco last offseason now appears to be nothing more than pettiness, and the loss of Josh Byrnes and other members of the front office staff, not to mention the titanic collapse of the second largest payroll in the game, are nothing but egg on his face. In his defense, he's still got some time to go until we know whether or not he's going to be successful.

Sure, it sucks to be a Sox fan right now, but step back, take a deep breath, and show everyone how mature you can be. It'll be alright. Just wait and see.

Perspective

"Yeah, that's pretty much everyone now." -Rotoworld

There's not a whole lot an amateur blogger can say to the last month for the Red Sox. We know it's bad, but this? That Rotoworld quote is in reference to Curt Schilling injuring his lat, and to Jonathan Papelbon experiencing a burning sensation in his arm during tonight's game. That pretty much fills the checklist for every starter on the team having some sort of injury.

Still, my disbelief was more directed at the fact that Jon Lester was diagnosed with an apparently treatable form of lymphoma. Cancer? That'll realign your sights a bit, won't it?

This is something I have never witnessed before, though, as SoSHers love to scream, it's a relatively small sample size. There comes a point when you stop making fun of a team's fate because injuries, in the end, just aren't that funny. Despite the fact that a good number of Yankee fans I'm familiar with didn't get that memo, the rest of sports fandom just looks at the Red Sox, shakes their head, and says, "Wow."

In the end, it comes down to this: Jon Lester is too young for something like this. Hopefully he (and others diagnosed with varying forms of cancer) can make speedy recoveries and lead healthy, normal lives. It doesn't matter whether or not he pitches again in the major leagues, and it doesn't matter if the Sox don't make it to October baseball.

What matters is something more important than a ballgame.