The Diatribe * net

This sport will kill you. As a fan, you pledge allegiance to a team and it’s players. Over 162+ games, you ride the tide up a down. Some players you loathe, others you adore. Others come and go and you hardly knew they were there. In 2002, the Boston Red Sox acquired a wily center fielder from the Oakland A’s, a man that, admittedly, I was not familiar with beforehand. But in 4 gritty seasons, he became larger than life. And now, as a result of the mergers-and-acquisitions-style of sports today, Johnny Damon is gone. And not only is he gone, he’s gone to the enemy.

Blame the players? Sure, if that would make you feel better. But not me. Let’s face it, the day and age of the true “franchise player” is long gone. Are they overpaid, money-grubbing babies? Sure. But we still eat it up and idolize them. Blame the agents? Some are referred to as the Antichrist, and they should be faulted for driving contract prices through the roof. But you know what? I can’t do that either. For better or for worse, the old cliché is true: Baseball is run like a business. Dollars and cents. Contract negotiations. Sales pitches. Presentations. Conferences. Wining and dining. You get it, the whole nine yards. Not too long ago I changed careers, effectively joining the rat race of Corporate America. I live it and I get it. Business is cold, a place reserved only for the thick-skinned. So whom do I blame? My finger is pointed at the top of the heap, the Brass. Who holds the President/CEO title? Ludicrous Larry Lucchino.

The Red Sox team is like a company, and when companies fail to live up to expectations you have to look at the leader. This winter, Lucchino has failed time and time again. I only wish Donald Trump could sit across from him at the Yawkey Way boardroom, stab the air with that hand motion he does, and utter those now infamous words, “You’re fired”. Sorry Larry, but you suck. Your company is in turmoil. Make no mistake about it: It is your fault. You have to answer for you failures, and the time is now. I’m reminded of Michael Corleone, confronting Carlo in Part I, “You have to answer for Sonny, Carlo…Don’t tell me you’re innocent”. You’re not innocent Larry. You had a nice run, but these failures are inexcusable. Theo and Johnny, Bill Mueller, gaping holes in the infield and outfield, a clubhouse in confusion, and now a bolstered NY lineup.

Merry Christmas Laughable Larry. Rot in hell.