Johnny Pesky died this week. He was 92 years old. Pesky was a Boston Red Sox legend and a fixture in the team’s dugout for decades. He had a fair/ foul pole named after him. His visage was as symbolic of the team as any logo. What better way to pay tribute to his memory than to have yet another putrid, pathetic, childish bout of finger-pointing?
Pesky’s passing did little to stem the tide of discord in Boston.
For about five minutes we all stopped and acknowledged the passing of a former player, coach, and advisor whose ties to the franchise ran all the way back 1942. A native of nearby Danvers, Massachusetts, he simply belonged at Fenway. Then the proverbial moment of silence evaporated and it was back to business as usual. Which, for this team, means dysfunction, whining, and more poor play.
What exactly has happened in Boston? Despite retaining some of the same names, this club bears little resemblance to the champions of 2004 or 2007. It looks nothing like the teams that were major contenders through the decade of the 2000s. One has to feel sorry for guys like David Ortiz, who have attempted to stay positive while everything around them unravels. When Big Papi remarked that “this team is [expletive] cursed,” he was referring to an Achilles injury. And his invocation of the dreaded word made little impact. But he was more correct than he knew. (more…)