Death by a Thousand Cuts, Self-Inflicted Demise of the Boston Red Sox

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks." - Hamlet

Everyone "loses their fastball", figuratively if not literally. We know from watching baseball for fifty plus years that greatness is borne of balance not excess. Yes, there are exceptions (the pitching rich 1969 Mets stand as prime example), but teams constructed to be offensive juggernauts (Air Coryell fans speak up here) don't wind up holding the trophy. 

Of course we're talking about team sports, not individual contests where a handful of individuals - Usain Bolt, Michael Phelps, Secretariat - put up 'silly' numbers. 

All of which brings us to the Boston Red Sox, on the fast track to go last, champion, last, and last. Just as on Sesame Street, "one of these things doesn't belong." The Sox had incredibly good fortune, clutch hitting, and statistically aberrant performance from closer Koji Uehara to seal the deal in 2013. You have to wonder if somebody made a deal with the devil to deliver that championship. 

Version 2015 of the Bosox looks freakishly like last year's disaster, with the team routinely trailing early, lacking energy, and becoming unwatchable. It's like having a portfolio of stocks that reports bad earnings, CFOs quitting, and changing their product line every quarter. 

To make matters worse, management looks short of a few gorilla suits, signing Ben Cherington and John Farrell to extensions, saddled with long-term deals for guys unproven in the American League (Allen Craig, Wade Miley), and developing pitchers at the rate of improvements in Microsoft Windows. 

The Commodity Genius, John Henry, looks the Commodity Tool as the fungible pieces on the Red Sox look neither fun nor able. The Sox feel destined to have to sell low on Daniel Nava and likely have to ship both Craig and starter Joe Kelly to the minors to resurrect their careers. The decline of Clay Buchholz is no less a mystery, an athlete whose zenith came early in his career and whose flashes of brilliance come with declining frequency and diminishing passion.

“There is no greater sorrow then to recall our times of joy in wretchedness.” - Dante Alighieri

You need neither books nor numbers to witness the struggles of former Redbirds on the Red Sox, as Edward Mujica is gone, and Craig and Kelly have sunk to Dante's lowest level of baseball hell. Even Daniel Bard must feel sorry for the Red Sox now.

Teams hate to part ways with two realities, unproductive players and their 'sunk costs'. Better to make excuses for the Stephen Drews of the world than to accept the 'eye test' of a player's declining arc. Few organizations adopt the Macchiavellian posture of 'better a year early than a year late' that the Patriots do, willing to jettison a Lawyer Milloy, Drew Bledsoe, or Vince Wilfork before Father Time or Aunt Jemima catch up with them. 

A player or two won't salvage the Red Sox now, a team overwrought by their self-importance ("The Nation") and their home ("America's Most Beloved Ballpark"). Maybe it's the curse of Jon Lester. 

Yes, the baseball season is a marathon not a sprint. You don't have to be great to start, but you have to start to be great.