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Behind the Backstop |
| “The toxicity of our city. Of our city.” The above quote, from System of a Down, should merit some sort of personal meaning to any Boston sports fan who is old enough to remember that Rick Pitino once coached the Celtics. Sure, every sports organization has had people leave and some of these people even made a stink on their way out the door, but why does it seem to happen in Boston much more dramatic fashion? Well, let's examine a well-known specific case from a few years ago. Nomar Garciaparra. The best hitter in Boston since Ted Williams. He was a legitimate .400 threat with terrific fan appeal, which Teddy Ballgame lacked (1999's All-Star Game at Fenway Park was the first time he ever tipped his cap to the fans). He won the AL Rookie of the Year, Silver Slugger, and was elected to the All-Star team his first year in the bigs. In 1999 he won the batting title after starting in the All-Star Game. Nomar was Nomah and that's the way people liked it. #5 jersey sales were higher than those of bread and water. He was the heart and soul of an entire cult-like following with a nearly perfect record of behavior. Nearly perfect. Playing shortstop for the Trenton Thunder Nomar made a dazzling play and was disappointed by the fans' lukewarm reaction. He made some sort of off-hand comment to the press, expressing his discontent, and supposedly the reporter twisted his words and printed a controversial headline and a stripped quote. Since then he had made it more than clear that he did not like the presence of the press in baseball. Nomar Garciaparra, at least at that point in his career, lived for baseball. The only other incident in his first four years in the majors (according to Bill Simmons) came after Sean McDonough, a former Red Sox announcer, counted the Red Sox out of a late-inning map-out-the-quickest-route-from-here-to-your-car-because-everybody's-already-trying-to-beat-the-traffic game. I guess Nomar vehemently disagreed with the assumption, and stated so publicly. Again, not a big deal, right? Well no Red Sox fan thought it was a big deal either, although each of these incidents could have been taken as a major occasion of foreshadowing. A man who loves baseball more than anything gets extremely pissed off over trivial matters concerning the media. Uh-oh. So when Al Reyes smacked Nomar's wrist up (unfortunately for Nomar, Reyes did not change his pitch up before smacking his wrist up) the city of Boston was most concerned! So the media, recognizing that Boston has a particularly fond taste for its baseball team and its players, wanted to get the skinny to put on the airwaves. So was it our fault that they pounded him over the head with “howsthewristhowsthewristhowsthewristnomarnomarnomaroverhere howsthewristwhensitgonnabebetter nomarnomarnomar”? Maybe, but we're certainly not blameworthy. Sure, the media wouldn't have pestered him as harshly as they did had the fan base not hung on their every word, but that's only because we cared about Nomar and wanted to know when we could see him play again. You remember that analogy Chris Farley makes in Tommy Boy as Joe Joe The Indian Circus Boy? He loves his pet/bun so fucking much that he shreds it and scares the shit out of his waitress. Well the analogy fits here, too. Our inability to keep out of Nomar's personal life certainly ended his reign as King of Boston. He pretty much snapped and openly spoke against the media to the media. The media was probably the one aspect of baseball he did not love, yet while you're an injured All-Star it's the only aspect of baseball you're going to see until you get better. Now we get to the interesting part. The President and CEO of the Boston Red Sox is Larry Lucchino. Larry has power that other men in his position don't: he has last say over any move the General Manager has planned. I don't think he has the power to initiate trades, but he sure as hell can veto them. In the winter before the 2004 season (right after the Yankees had unloaded several clips into the heart of every Red Sox fan) the Texas Rangers began to shop their $252 million AL MVP shortstop Alex Rodriguez. Theo Epstein, the Red Sox GM at the time (I can't fucking believe I typed this line in 2005. What the fuck) was the only man amongst negotiations with the club, so if a deal was going to happen at all he was going to come to the Red Sox, Nomar would play for the White Sox, and Manny would be in Texas (our $160 million bat with legs). Smelling a raise in ticket sales Lucchino jumped at the idea, granting Epstein the go-ahead to finish the deal. One-problem still existed, and that was Larry's inability to understand the fragile business of business. He leaked to the press that the Red Sox were about to land Alex Rodriguez (I'm not certain, but I'd say it's highly probable that he told Boston Globe writer Dan Shaughnessy, his own personal mouthpiece). The fans exploded. Those same #5 jerseys that went 30 games without being washed during Nomar's hit streak in 1997 were thrown in the trash as fans rushed to their computers to see if eBay had ARod Red Sox jerseys yet. I'm in no way saying that the rumor shouldn't have been viewed as exciting and desirable, because it was exactly that. Nomar was chronically injured and was already beginning to paint a poor image of himself all over Fenway. The city's love for Nomar was, well, dead, and being injured for seasons on end was not helping rekindle the flames that once dwelled deep within the soul of ever Red Sox fan. If you're having trouble seeing how a Red Sox fan could so easily forget about his or homegrown superstar so easily, let me draw it out through the art of analogy. Imagine that you meet someone and immediately know that they are your soul mate. They are everything that was missing in your life and more. They appreciate you and you appreciate them. You tell each other how great the other is and do all sorts of fun stuff together. It's a great relationship, is what I'm trying to get across here. Then one day they get hit by a bus on their way to work and they're sort of a different person. They can't do anything at all except lay in a hospital bed and look out the window, so they become miserable. The doctor's have no idea if they'll ever be the same again or when to expect any sort of return. Despite their previous requests that you not visit them you go every day anyway. Remember that you love this person about as much as you've ever loved anyone. How could you stand by helplessly and just sit in the dark? So one day when you show up they throw a tray of shitty hospital cafeteria food at you and you think to yourself “Jeez, what a prick. I wonder if anyone else is out there for me to care for and nurture and love just as I did him/her.” I was guilty of this. I hate saying it now, but yeah, I was for the trade. I sure as hell didn't express so outside of my small group of trusted family and friends, though. Loving anyone outside of that person in the hospital bed just doesn't feel right, does it? All you can think about is that time that you had a whip cream fight when you were making sundaes or when they turned that tight double play to end an extra-inning game for you. So, of course, Lucchino's leak gets to Nomar's ears, and he has to be absolutely crushed. He knows his image has faded a little bit here and he's been consistently hitting .000 on the bench, but still must be thinking, “They're trading me? Oh.” Immediately the Boston media (again, probably from Lucchino's mouth to Shaugnessy's pen) began a mudslinging campaign against Nomar: “What's the deal with Nomar's lack of range?” “Is it just me or is Nomar not batting .372 anymore?” “Last time I checked ARod was the reigning American League MVP” etc. etc. Soon enough you couldn't get Nomar out of Boston fast enough. Bake sales were held by Boy Scout troops to help raise money for a one-way ticket to O'Hare. Any and all love that once was sent that man's way was shredded. Then the fun part. A snag hit in the trade (the Players' Union wouldn't allow ARod to take a pay cut to come to Boston and Epstein wasn't willing to pick up the rest of the money). Boston let out a collective “Oh fuck” and all panic broke loose. I mean, I'd never thrown a Molotov cocktail through a church window before in my life. I probably won't do it again until Tom Brady is traded to Philly for T.O. So ARod goes to the Yankees, Nomar stays in Boston (hurt and broken), and a situation unfolds. To review the components: -The media pissed off Nomar -Nomar spoke out against the media -Larry Lucchino leaked the ARod trade -“New Toy Syndrome” overtook Boston , thanks to the media -The media began a smear campaign to ruin Nomar's image -Nomar was here to stay Again, “Ohhhhhhhhh……..fuck”. The central element that seems to tie all Boston 's intangibles together is the media. The demand in Boston is precisely focused: “Give us sports and give us fresh dirt.” So it's no surprise that WEEI ( Boston 's sports radio station) is the highest rated sports radio program in the country. WEEI has the potential to be a great tool when used wisely, but the power gets to these guys' heads. Some of the things that they say have a profound effect on the actual structure of the team. Most of the shit-speak that was directed towards Nomar came from these guys, and although I doubt Nomar was an avid listener I'm sure word got around to him. Another tool is Dan Shaughnessy. He's a Boston Globe baseball writer and award winning author. His “Curse of the Bambino” sold a lot of copies because he claims to be the first person to realize that the Red Sox hadn't won a championship in a really long time. He's openly stated that if it came between the Red Sox well-being and an article he'd choose the article. “Always root for the article.” It's important to know that the Boston Globe's parent company is the New York Times, which owns 17% of the Red Sox. It then comes as no surprise that when the front office (Larry Lucchino, in particular) wants to address the public they simply feed their new information to the Globe, especially if it's a juicy leak that Larry just can't wait to tell the world. Theo Epstein had a problem with this, though. He felt that private matters should be left private matters and he expressed so at private meetings. So how did I hear about it if it was a private meeting? Well, Dan Shaughnessy told me. So the temper of Boston 's sports atmosphere could kindly be described as malevolent. The Red Sox front office, well aware of how tough this town can get when deals need to get done, opted not to extend Theo Epstein's contract after last year's World Series victory. Instead they waited until the last minute, putting even more pressure on the GM as the offseason's market loomed over his shoulder. A contract was offered to Theo for $4.5 million over three years, which by anyone's standards is overpaying the man. Lucchino let Shaugnessy know that that deal was imminent and to print it as so, and he did. The next day mlb.com ran the following headline: “Epstein re-signs” A few hours later, they ran this headline: “Epstein resigns” So no one knew what had happened and it took hours of reading the forums at Sons of Sam Horn and boston.com to put some pieces together. It appears to me that Larry Lucchino likes to employ a fairly odd technique when it comes to completing deals. If a deal is in the air and displays any sort of possibility of not happening to his favor he'll leak to the press that it's a done deal and that all that's left to do is the signing, which he releases the date and time for. I think he feels that if someone is teeter-tottering on whether to sign the fact that the public believes them to sign is going to persuade them in that direction. So, much to Larry's disdain, it blew up in his face. It may have been the straw that broke Theo's back. I can picture Theo throwing a copy of the Globe in the trash saying “Fuck this.” Be wary that this wasn't all that went into Epstein's decision, though it really all can be brought back to Larry Lucchino. Remember that earlier I told you that Lucchino had the unordinary ability to veto Theo's decisions. Well a lot of this came because Larry raised Theo. He taught Theo the business and wasn't willing to let go when the time was right. The Larry Bigbie fiasco that occurred during 2005's trade deadline is a good example. Theo wanted to pull the trigger and Larry disagreed, so it never happened and Eric Byrnes is on the Orioles now. It really wasn't that big a deal to the Red Sox at the time, but I really do think that it pissed Theo off pretty well and hard. First the organization wasn't extending his contract before the start of the season and then they undermine his decisions with Larry Lucchino playing the role of baby sitter. The article that Dan Shaughnessy released stating Theo's re-signing brought up the animosity that existed in the past between Lucchino and Epstein, but he seemingly declared it dead. Well, I guess not. In a press conference held a few days after his resignation had been declared he merely stated that he was leaving for personal reasons and didn't go into detail as to the specifics. Tom Henry made a statement that leaks from within the organization must and will stop. Larry Lucchino did not appear. What I think it comes down to is how thick skinned a person you are. I'm not saying Pitino, Nomar, and Epstein didn't have the right to bail, because they certainly did. Look at people like Paul Pierce, though (ugh). He gets trashed constantly, yet he never brings it on the court. He doesn't speak out against criticism, almost as if he doesn't care. I'd call him thick skinned, but then those knives wouldn't have been able to stab him 4 times at a night club. So when Edgar Renteria came to Boston and his former coach Tony La Russa said that he wouldn't do well there, that he wasn't tough enough to handle the town, was he just running his mouth? Well I think that Renteria's 30 errors speak for themselves. And how many times did we see Edgar releasing quotes to reporters and calling in radio stations? None to my memory. Boston just cares too much about sports, is what it comes down to. Maybe Lucchino wouldn't be so anxious to ruin every golden opportunity that seemingly walks right by the Red Sox if he knew it didn't matter so much to the fans. Players would certainly feel less pressured, let alone the newfound space they'd receive from the media. I don't see things changing anytime in the near future, so until the next debacle in Beantown, I just hope the Red Sox don't add Lou Piniella to their payroll anytime soon. |
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