So to paraphrase Theo's oft-used analogy, the Red Sox went over to Colorado and saw that out there, milk is 90.1 million dollars and the equivalent of your firstborn child, and concluded, after some conjecture, that that was too expensive.
Either the press still moves at a glacial speed despite our advanced electronic means of news delivery, or it seemed to take our team's execs a good little while to figure that out. That's what bothers me.
And then, today, just when I get to breathe that sigh of relief, I hear that Lowell is now in still more rumors about being traded...to San Diego...for Scott Linebrink?
Is it just me, or are the Red Sox getting a little Twilight Zone right now? Am I just dumb, and therefore the only one mystified by this? It's like suddenly the sports page of the Globe is telling us "War is Peace. Freedom is Slavery. Ignorance is Strength. Sox Thinking of Trading Mike Lowell for Nothing. Alex Gonzalez Also Gone. Peyton Manning looking forward to Sunday's Super Bowl. Editorial Column Today from Dan Shaughnessy: 'I, For One, Welcome Our New Robot Overlords'." I mean, what has happened here?
This is why I should go back to not reading about Hot Stove rumors, because then I just sit around muttering to myself about why in hell they would dawdle over Todd Helton in the window of the pawn shop and put Lowell out on the curb with a sign saying "Free"? Maybe it's masochistic to ask why in a case like this, but I just don't get it.
Anyway, enough of all that. Instead, I give you this:
Show me how knowing that Dodger Stadium is an extreme pitcher’s park increases my enjoyment of the game. Show me why I should care that with one out in the fifth at home, down by two runs, and a guy on second, the Mariners only have a 34% chance of winning a game. Because to me, if the M’s are down by two in the bottom of the 5th with a guy on second, I’m all about hope and optimism – there’s still time to pull this one out, right? I want my team to rally, I want the two-run home run, I want a double down the line. When that hope and optimism crashes pretty much head-on into the knowledge that my team only has a 34% chance of winning in that situation, the beauty of the game suffers as a result.