I’m still mad at the Red Sox. It’s a dull anger at this point, but it’s still anger. And disappointment. And Sadness. Anger at the jackasses who drank beer and ate fried chicken and got paid millions of dollars to not give a shit about their season or their teammates or their fans. Anger that I apparently cared more about the 2011 Red Sox than they did. Disappointment that no clubhouse leaders were able to put a stop to the unacceptable behavior. Disappointment in 3 grown men. One I had previously admired, and 2 I had my doubts about, who live the dream of millions of Little Leaguers all over the world and who didn’t have the respect for the dream or the game to play it right. Disappointed that a player seemingly turned on a manager who had never done anything besides provide support and encouragement. Sad that a good man was run out of town. Sad that a few had stellar seasons smudged by the grubby, greasy fingers of another few who turned the clubhouse and eventually the fans upside down. Sad that the front office apparently decided to air greivances in public. Sad that an era has ended. Sad that for the first time ever I didn’t wear a Red Sox sweatshirt to the gym because I was embarrassed by my team. Sad that for me, something has changed.
I haven’t paid much attention to the Red Sox since those dark days in early October. One could argue that it’s the off season so there’s not much to pay attention to, but that’s not the reason. I usually follow the Hot Stove dealings and rumors with enthusiasm. I anticipate the upcoming season like a kid waiting for Christmas. I check all the usual news outlets daily and offer my thoughts on whatever minutia may be happening on Twitter. Not so this year. I quite simply don’t care. I couldn’t even bring myself to have an opinion on a new manager. I was too busy mourning the loss of the old one. I’m not sure how far this apathy will extend. I’m still waiting for an apology that isn’t coming. I no longer believe in my team. It’s not about wins and losses or stats. I’m a Red Sox fan, I can handle losing, I can handle a late season collapse, previous decade aside, I expect that. I can’t handle a blatant lack of integrity.
The Red Sox of 2004 were idiots, but they were idiots who played hard, who loved the game and who never, under any circumstances, gave up on themselves. So we never gave up on them. They built a trust with us and with each other. We learned to accept victory over defeat as our expectation for our team. We learned to trust that 25 guys, occasionally 24 in a a bit of ironic numerology, were doing their utmost to win for us. No small feat for a community accustomed to decades of defeat. The quirkiness was eventually tempered into professional experience in 2007, but the spirit carried on until last fall. In one newspaper article a decade of trust and goodwill was broken. It’s going to take a long time to rebuild.
I don’t hate the new Red Sox manager, but I’m also not convinced he’s the answer. I hate that spoiled brats who play a boys game for a living felt it was ok to abuse the privilege and admiration the fans bestowed upon them. They owe us their best effort, every game, every play. Without us they don’t exist. I want to see Dustin Pedroia and Jacoby Ellsbury emerge as leaders to help right the ship in 2012. I want Josh Beckett, Jon Lester, John Lackey and anyone else who chose a bucket of chicken and a beer over their team and their fans to issue a public apology over the public address system in Fenway Park on Opening Day. I want the 2012 Red Sox to rebuild the trust I had in April of 2011.
I’m not sure how long my apathy will last. I keep telling myself I’ll snap out of it by Spring Training, but I really don’t know.

