Mal: Fellow called Badger.
Harrow: I know him. And I think he's a psychotic lowlife.
Mal: And I think calling him that is an offense to the psychotic lowlife community.
--From Firefly, the Series
It ain't easy being green, or a Red Sox fan. You'd think that the magical 2004 season with cataclysmic collapse of the Bronx Bombers and a World Series title would erase the angst from the collective consciousness of Red Sox Nation. Fat chance.
Management takes heat for not taking on enough salary (extensions of Ortiz and Beckett, anyone), for not trading prospects for overpaid ragarms (sorry Kip Wells), and being acused of general indifference to the Sox plight. Try this one on for size. The current version of Sox, Stardate 2006.112 isn't good enough to win the AL East, never mind the whole enchilada. The number three starter is Jon Lester, who might be a top of the rotation guy someday. He's not today. Not his fault, as he's pressed into a role that is a stretch for him. The offense has sputtered mightily, aside from the 3-4 spots, and much of the lineup has been slumping.
Admittedly, per Earl Weaver, "you're never as good as you look when you win or as bad as you look when you lose." Of course, losses to Tampa and Kansas City get magnified, as though you're an ant under a magnifying glass on a sultry summer day. And why not? If you can't beat the Weak Sisters, can you expect to compete with the Big Dogs?
The Sox will not fold. The catastrophic drop approach isn't the Sox way. Too easy for everyone. No, if it's baseball death, it will be Shakespearean, with much knife-twisting pain along the way, salt in the wounds, and all that. And no, Red Sox fans are not psychotic lowlives. That would be unfair to the psychotic lowlife community.