Dear Theo,
Though
it is only a short time since I wrote to you, I have something more to tell you now.
For
there has been a change in my drawings, both in the way I set about them and the results.
-Vincent Van Gogh, letter to Theo Van Gogh, September 1881
Dearest Theo, I’m writing
to you because, as Van Gogh himself alluded to, I’ve seen a change in your work, both in the way you set about it and
the results. The trade deadline has come and passed, and as these lazy days of August promise to give way to the crisp crackle
of fallen leaves and the stern breezes of September, yada yada yada, fall’s coming, we’re getting near crunch
time, so get your ass in gear. I can almost hear Chris Berman’s idiotic musings whispered on the wind.
What’s
happened to you, Theo? Two years ago, this was the guy that looked Red Sox Nation square in the eye and said, yep, fuck you
all, I’m trading Nomar. You heard me, Nomar. I’m trading Nomar for three guys you’ve never heard of. And
you know something else? We’re gonna be better for it. We’re gonna win a World Series because of it.
That
took balls, Theo; that took some serious cajones. Now look at you. You’ve
become a deadline lightweight, too scared to mess with your “winning” (cough cough) formula, too chicken to go
after a few things this team really needs, like, oh, about three starters, some middle relievers, and a decent outfielder.
(I’m officially giving up on Trot Nixon and Coco Crisp, at least for this season. They’re just not getting the
job done. Sure, they’ve had a few moments of brilliance here and there, but overall these guys aren’t the six
and seven hitters on a championship team. You’re telling me, Theo, that you couldn’t have gotten four decent arms
for Trot Nixon or Coco Crisp and a prospect? Dustin Hermanson’s gotta be available, we just saw him pitch against the
SkyChiefs, for God’s sake.)
A scary
thing’s happened to you, Theo Epstein. You grew up. You lost that boyish innocence, that fearless, brash, young gun
mentality that Papelbon has, that Rick Vaughn (played by the incomparable Charlie Sheen) had in Major League (before they
remade it without Wesley Snipes as Willie Mays Hayes, a name that comes in second only to Willie Mays Moore, brother of Maggie
Moore, as a baseball tribute name. If George “CantStandYa” Castanza had succeeded in naming his child Seven Castanza
as a tribute to the Mick, he would have won, but alas). I want the old Theo back, the rock-and-roll Theo, the one that redefined
what it meant to be a “GM.” You were better than I think even you realize. If it weren’t for David Ortiz
and Curt Schilling, I think you would be remembered as the face of the Red Sox’ revitalization and that championship
season. The moves you made turned us into a legitimate foil for the Yankees and a legitimate contender, not to mention an
eventual champion.
Now,
Theo, for some reason, you’ve become something that should frighten Sox fans more than they realize, the very thing
we liked you because you weren’t – a baseball executive. It’s generally accepted that sports fans have too
much common sense to run a franchise, otherwise, franchises such as the present-day Knicks and the Brewers (see my previous
column on the Carlos Lee “trade”) would actually be contending, rather than using first-round picks on NIT MVP
Renaldo Balkman (we’re number 66, baby!). I can’t say this strongly enough, Theo: We loved you because you were
one of us. You were a big kid, (Jennifer Garner) to the negative one: 30 going on 13. You were a fan. Fans love and respect their own kind, just like they love and respect the team and the players they follow.
You were young, you were smart, but most of all, you were one of the guys. The old Theo Epstein seemed like someone you could
sit around and shoot the shit about baseball with. Listen to yourself now, Theo:
"There were plenty of deals involving prospects that we considered," Epstein said.
"We made plenty of proposals involving our prospects for major league players - especially pitching - in return, but nothing
that would have helped us so much this year that was worth the long-term loss of extending beyond what we were willing to
do."
Who are you? And what have you done with Theo Epstein, Rock-and-Roll GM Bad-Ass? You sound like Dr. Reed Richards
from the Fantastic 4 – more concerned with playing it safe and considering “variables” than attending to
the pressing needs of your buddy Ben Grimm, trapped in the socially crippling form of the Thing. We, the fans of Red Sox Nation,
are Ben Grimm, Theo. You’ve left us to lose everything as the Thing. Stop ogling and admiring Jessica Alba from afar
(a.k.a., the Yankees) and get back to taking what you want. The old Theo, the one we loved, was Johnny Storm (a.k.a. the Human
Torch). He was a rock star. He saw what he wanted and he took it. We want Johnny Storm back. By the way, in the ESPN.com article
I pulled that quote from, it was immediately followed by…
That put more pressure on portly 43-year-old lefthander David Wells, who returned Monday from his second stint on the
DL and was pounded for eight runs and eight hits in 4 2/3 innings.
Knuckleballer Tim
Wakefield and Matt
Clement are on the DL and Lenny
DiNardo, David
Pauley, Kyle
Snyder, Jason
Johnson and Kason Gabbard are a combined 3-9 in 15 starts.
Your flagship signing in
all the hot stove commotion, Theo? Uh, Javy Lopez. Does it scare anybody else that our depth chart at catcher, with the injuries
to Varitek and Mirabelli, currently reads:
- Javy Lopez, who couldn’t find at bats between Kevin Millar and Ramon Hernandez on the
Orioles.
- Ken “I ♥” Huckaby.
We want you back, Theo. We want the offense back. Theo, look, I’m thrilled about the defense and
all, but what about getting back to our roots, with guys that put dents in the Coke bottle and hit lasers off the Monster?
We can’t get by scoring four and five runs against the Devil Rays and Royals. It’s not gonna work in the fall.
It’s
not too late for you to change, Theo. Even Dr. Reed Richards turned it around and married Sue Storm. Find that inner Johnny
Storm and get us to the playoffs (hint: trade, waive, designate for assignment, or, if all else fails, murder in cold blood,
Julian Tavarez). I have faith in you, Theo – every few months I pull out my 2004 World Series DVD, the one narrated
by Dennis Leary, and watch the whole season unfold again. You weren’t just good, Theo, you were the best. Two scenes
really stick with me from that DVD. The fans at Busch Stadium, refusing to leave the grounds after Game 4, chanting “Thank
You Red Sox” (which still gives me chills, Theo, even as I write this), and you, Lucchino, Henry, and a few other guys
standing in the clubhouse, watching the game on TV, with you, Theo, urging on Foulke with a “C’mon, Foulkey, one
more” like any other fan at home as an unbelievable championship drew nearer. We’ll be alright, Theo. All you
need to do is find your inner fan.
