Chicken Little Is No Friend of the Red Sox

Boston can be a tough place to play baseball.

When things are clicking for the Red Sox, Fenway Park is a Norman Rockwell painting. When things aren’t going well, there are more than 4 million general managers, managers and players who can do better.

The fishbowl in the Hub is about the size of the Atlantic Ocean, and no one is immune from criticism.

Not Theo Epstein. Not Terry Francona. Not Captain Varitek. Not anybody.

Second-guessing during the dog days is a common a ritual in New England. But it takes a certain kind of mentality to be able to put up with that kind of scrutiny. If a person doesn’t have the right makeup, the masses will eat the Red Sox meek like a great white shark devours a baby seal.

Edgar Renteria couldn’t handle the heat. Neither could Julio Lugo. Now Clay Buchholz is entering the chum zone. Every time he takes the mound, half the Nation gets out a rosary. The other half heads for the liquor cabinet.

John Smoltz could be swimming with the fishes soon if he doesn’t figure out the American League. The same goes for Brad Penny. And Jason Bay’s days could be numbered, too.

The honeymoon doesn’t last long in Boston. If players don’t produce, life can get miserable quick.

Even if they do produce, it can be uncomfortable. Ted Williams was one of the best players to ever step between the lines, but even he couldn’t bring himself to tip his cap to the Fenway faithful until long after his playing days were over.

Would his career have gone differently if he had never been booed at Fenway, if he hadn’t felt disrespected by the knights of the typewriter?

Everyone has a job to do.

Players, coaches and management are doing everything they can to win.

Fans have a right to express their displeasure when things go wrong, but there is a difference between being passionate and being destructive. No matter how often players say they don’t read the headlines or listen to talk radio or watch the talking heads on TV, the 24/7 news and opinion cycle is difficult to miss these days.

Fans don’t throw the ball or swing a bat. They can’t turn a double play or make a pitching change. But they can impact what happens on the diamond by how they act off it.

Turning the page seems to have been replaced by looking for a scapegoat. A we-shall-overcome-anything attitude appears to be giving way to a here-we-go-again fatalism.
 
Didn’t 2004 wash away the inferiority complex?

Has everyone forgotten how to believe?

Does the Nation want to reinstitute the curse?

Negative energy doesn't appear in a box score, but it can be just as detrimental as stranding 11 baserunners, walking nine batters or committing three errors. There are no refunds on bad vibes, no way to take back bad juju. It might feel good to vent, but second-guessing can only hurt the team.

Think about that the next time Chicken Little wants to make an appearance and talk junk about the Red Sox.