Like most of Red Sox nation, I am angry with Josh Beckett for many reason: the golfing; the unavailability out of the bullpen in the 17-inning marathon against the Baltimore Orioles; and the overall indifference to the state of the franchise and the fans.
But I was fully expecting him to come out Thursday evening and have a six-inning, three-run performance; one that is far from what his ace-like salary would merit, but one that we couldn’t really complain about, either.
But when I looked down at the score to see his line—seven earned runs in seven outs—I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of guilty pleasure.
As sports fans, we want to like our super stars. We want a connection with the players. We want the guys that seem like “good guys” to be successful. Had the Red Sox won, I would have been happy. I haven’t been rooting for them to lose. But when Beckett showed how little he cared about this team and its fans, part of me wanted him to fail.
That has been the biggest frustration with Beckett: He just doesn’t care. The Red Sox fan base is rabid, unforgiving and relentless. But more than anything else, they care. And for a fan base that has always celebrated the unsung heroes—the Gabe Kaplers and Doug Mirabellis of Major League Baseball—they want two things: to win and for the team to care as much as them.
The Red Sox are in a lose-lose situation. They have created a monster—too big to fail. The current ownership has built a team that has more money on the disabled list (over $70 million) than six other MLB teams; if they win…well…that’s what they’re supposed to do. And if they lose, they have only their bad judgment to blame.
Baseball seems like an individual sport in a team setting. The at-bats are pitcher versus batter. In the field, each player has their specific, individual responsibility. It isn’t like basketball where you can see the team chemistry on the field. One would think that if you put in the best player you can find at each position, it would make the best team.
But there is something to be said about team chemistry, even in baseball. The 2004 Red Sox were greater than the sum of their parts.
The Kevin Millars of the world make a difference. I’m not claiming that if Dustin Pedroia feels close to his teammates, he’ll try harder; but if he genuinely enjoys going to the clubhouse every day, his ceiling as a player will be higher. He’ll be happier, looser and subconsciously be in a better frame of mind to perform at his best.
The Red Sox ownership needs to press the reset button. They need to redefine what this team means. Because in a city with such scrutiny—such focus on everything each member of the team does—they can’t afford to have a team that is unwatchable, unlikeable and unsuccessful on the field.
It’s one thing to have an unlikable team that makes the playoffs; it’s another to see that team post a 13-19 record. Character matters for perception, and it matters for performance.
And that isn’t to say the Red Sox need to blow up the roster. They have a core of talented fielders and hitters. The bullpen lacks a dominant, strikeout pitcher that can come in with runners on base and extinguish the situation. But despite being overworked recently, they have performed admirably.
However, the starting pitching is dismal. The Red Sox shouldn’t get rid of quality players just for the sake of character. But this isn’t just about perception: The Red Sox are under-performing.
More than under-performing, they stink.
And really, there is only one move to make right now: get rid of Josh Beckett. He can veto any trade, but from his press conferences and general demeanor, he doesn’t seem like he wants to be here either. Ownership needs to take him aside, find out which teams he’s open to and work out a trade.
Equal value won’t be reached, but take 40 cents on the dollar. It will be addition by subtraction. If the ownership is serious about putting last year behind them, make a bold move.
If Beckett were traded—especially if the trade is obviously just for the sake of getting rid of him, rather than improving the roster—it sends a message to the team: If you want to stay here, show us on (and off) the field. But if you don’t want to be here, shape up or ship out.
It should be an honor to wear the Red Sox uniform. Boston has become a punch line of the MLB: overpaid, lazy and entitled.
It’s the 100-year anniversary of Fenway Park. For a city that wants to love its baseball team so bad—I know I have been looking for a reason to get behind this team all season—ownership needs to remember that the fans that care are the reason they have a team.
Maybe it’s unfair, but Josh Beckett has become a symbol of all that was wrong with the Red Sox at the end of last season going into this season. Letting him go would be as symbolic as it would be practical. This team needs a makeover and to remember what it means to be the Boston Red Sox.
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