Like, are you shocked? ‘Cause, like, you shouldn’t be.
Bobby Valentine took over from the besieged Terry Francona prior to this season, and failed to weather the inside-out storm of the Boston Red Sox — baseball’s equivalent of Oscar’s trash can. Valentine took an already childish product, and did his best to keep it there. He spoke like a diva, and the Red Sox played like alcoholics.
And, now, he’s gone. Thursday, the Red Sox fired Valentine from his post as manager, after a 69-93 season.
It was their worst year since 1965, which wasn’t long after Fenway Park was considered a relic. Really, it was that long ago.
This from a team with so much promise, and so much potential. Gonzalez, Pedroia, Crawford, Ortiz, Beckett, Bucholtz, Ellsbury, and whoever else you wanna toss in there. Lester? Lackey, before.
They all sound so foolish together now, but there was a time when the Sox were considered to be the only true World Series contender. Boston blew up. They were their own tragedy, and one of Shakespearean proportions.
Hell, half of them are gone, and all of Boston should be cheering that one.
A year and a half ago, the Sox looked like Lindsay Lohan in 2003. Now? Well, sh*t… skip Lindsay Lohan forward nine years, and you’ve got what the Sox did in 12 months.
You can say one thing, they certainly matured fast. Or, is it expired?
And, and the top of the sandcastle that came tumbling down with the tide was Bobby Valentine. Like Republicans prefer to say about the President, “He didn’t cause it, but he made it worse.” Valentine inherited a situation where the talent was still too palpable for words, and he only added to the misery. He tossed tuna onto the fire, and he watched the mother burn.
Valentine worked hard, he really did. Now, it appears John Farrell might have his job, even though he’s a Blue Jay. Francona or Bobby V? Well, there could be something opening in Miami quite soon.
The real casualty in this ordeal?
Valentine’s legacy. Even in England, they know how bad it was.