The Massachusetts Spy March 2003

Sox Series chance has been shot . .

THEO ROUNDS UP USUAL SUSPECTS

As the equipment truck heads south, Theo and his brain trust check out some promising players within the budget that Larry Lucchino has given the Sox.

By Sisyphus
Baseball Editor

    It hasn't taken long for Theo Epstein, wunderkind and grandson of Casablanca screenwriter Phillip Epstein, to craft this year's revival of that baseball classic, Fenway Futility.

    Like his grandpa's movie, the Sox saga makes you laugh, cry, sing and drink, even though you know how it's going to end: with George Steinbrenner and the World Series trophy headed off to the jungles of Tampa.

    And like Casablanca's hero, Rick Blaine, Red Sox Nation grimaces and wisecracks to hide the heart that gets broken anew every year. This year will be more of the same. Blaine came to Casablanca for the waters, only to find he was in the desert. Red Sox Nation throngs through the turnstiles into the $60 seats, only to find a mediocre cast of baseball journeymen fumbling their way to second place in the weak AL East.

    Even Victor Laszlo had more help than Sox stars Pedro Martinez and Nomar Garciaparra. Can you imagine sending the Sox up against the Bronx Wehrmacht? I'd rely on the French Army to do better than the Sox bullpen.

    But baby Sox Prefect Theo Epstein hasn't been idle. He's rounded up the usual suspects: third-rate pitchers and cast-off role players. Under orders from his Major Strasser, Larry Lucchino, he's shown no mercy to superstar free agents who might actually breathe some life into the sorry Sox.

    Not that the new owners have been idle. Although they are much too busy to stock the Red Sox with first-tier players, they have sought to stuff extra seats in every nook and cranny of the ballpark. Not content to extend the grandstands to the baselines, they now propose to add seats atop the Green Monster. Next year, expect luxury boxes on the Coke Bottle.

    It's still the same old story: a fight for love and glory. But unless Katie Couric can work Ilsa Lund-like magic on the Red Sox high command [Not bloody likely – Ed.], the forecast for Fenway reads like Phil and Julius Epstein's threnody for Bulgaria. It didn't take much revision for Theo to script the Sox fan's tearful plea: "Oh, m'seur, if you only knew how bad things were in Fenway. The devil has the Red Sox by the throat."  [That's why they always choke – Sports Ed.]

    Sadly for Red Sox Nation, there are no letters of transit to be had. With no escape from Fenway, we sit, and wait. And wait.

New Red Sox owners are making all the right moves

    PAIL O' MUCK PARK, Florida – You may be freezing your patooties off in Quincy, but ol' Shill is back in action, soaking up the booze [Surely, sunshine? – Ed.] in beautiful Fort Myers, Florida.

    Take it from the Shillmeister: the new Red Sox brain trust is one class operation. Sure, you hear a lot of whining from ungrateful fans asking why the owners jacked up ticket prices but didn't unlock their wallets long enough to sign some top-tier free agents. Let me tell you: John Henry and his men have been spending the dough where it really counts.

    In addition to the lunch buffet, the Sox have opened a breakfast bar for the "early rising" members of the working press who toddle in at 10 or 11, perhaps a little "worse for wear" after a long night of interviewing prostitutes [Surely, prospects? – Ed.] at the Crocodile Club down County Highway 397.

    You can't spin 750 words a day on an empty stomach, so this year the Sox have sprung for a lavish assortment of Pop-Tarts, cereal, Tang and Drake's Mini Coffee Cakes. Not to mention free java and non-dairy creamer. And, if you're a powerful columnist who can make or break reputations with a few well-stolen [Surely, chosen? – Ed.] words, you might even get a wee dram of "the hair of the dog that bit you."

Tomorrow: Shill Shamelessly compares the two-for-one happy hours offered by the roadhouses along U.S. 41. Stick with the Spy for complete spring training coverage from the Shiller.

Volume CCXXXIII, Number 31 March, 2003 Worcester, Massachusetts Since 1770

Sox Series chance has been shot . .

THEO ROUNDS UP USUAL SUSPECTS