Boston Red Sox Faithful: Who's Afraid of John Lackey?

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“I don’t know.  You guys are going to write whatever you want to write.  Whatever.”—John Lackey, June 22.

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There are 15,950,000 reasons why John Lackey’s 2011 season won’t be remembered with much gusto along Yawkey Way.  As the Boston Red Sox march towards the All-Star break having raised, lowered and re-raised expectations, Lackey’s poor pitching continues to be a consistent day at the dentist for a fanbase (with Whitey Bulger soon behind bars) desperately seeking public enemy No. 1.

But what is most troubling about Lackey’s season?  Fans can quickly point to his nauseating numbers.  As of July 5th, the 7.47 ERA, the .329 opponent average with runners in scoring position and the 1.86 WHIP against lefty hitters all scream for a demotion to the bullpen or banishment to the island of misfit baseball contracts (Edgar Renteria will be happy to show you around, John).  This, of course, is and should be the factor most important to fans and players alike.  

The untimely nature of his demise also hurts.  In the second year of a five-year contract worth $82.5 million, Lackey has demonstrated an inability to perform when his team needs him most. 

With ace Jon Lester headed to the disabled list, the gyroball era all but extinct (Dice-K will likely find the Witness Protection Program less stressful than Boston) and Clay Buchholz saddled with a lower back strain only his wife is fully capable of helping him with (google her), the time is now for Lackey to assert himself as the No. 3 starter he was paid far too much to be. 

Disappointing first-rounder Andrew Miller, ex-Yankee Alfredo Aceves and beloved knuckleballer Tim Wakefield have proven far more valuable and less costly in that spot. 

Yet, in a more sinister way, Lackey’s attitude and game-day demeanor, which help make him the easiest player to boo at Fenway Park in the last decade, are most troubling.  The 6’6’’ Texan is routinely abrasive towards the Boston media; the above quote sounds more like a teenage girl or LeBron James than a grown man of 32. 

He breaks baseball code by insulting the talents of opposing players (see Toronto Blue Jays third baseman John McDonald on May 11th).  He makes veiled references to his personal life, only to admonish the media for asking follow-up questions.  Indeed, Lackey is crass, rude and perhaps even stupid. 

When asked if it was difficult to spend long stretches of time on the bench while his teammates ran around the bases en route to a 16-4 June 11th victory over the Blue Jays, Lackey responded, “If you complain about runs, you’re a retard.”  Even in victory, his wit is about as sharp as his ineffective curveball.     

On the diamond, Lackey consistently shows up his teammates with over-the-top hand gestures and eye rolls that can’t possibly sit well with manager Terry Francona or his players.  How should Kevin Youkilis react when he dives for a line drive between third and shortstop and picks himself up from the dirt to find his teammate in disbelief and disgust (the same teammate who threw the very hittable pitch in the first place)?  Youk’s goatee can only handle so many brushes with idiocy before it attacks. 

Furthermore, Lackey rarely assesses his performances the way a major league pitcher making $82.5 million should.  On June 22, asked to comment on relinquishing San Diego Padre Will Venable’s first home run of the season, Lackey responded, “It was a cutter I left over the plate, for sure. You know, leadoff hitter. What are you going to do?”  He doesn’t take accountability for his performances the way, say, teammate Josh Beckett does.

Lackey’s absurd contract comes with great responsibility in performance and attitude.  Red Sox Nation will not root for a man who looks like he’d rather take a dip in the dirty Charles River than jog to the mound at Fenway Park (where his ERA is a ghastly 9.17) and beat the Yankees.  His attitude must change before anything about his game can. 

So, who’s afraid of John Lackey?  Possibly his teammates.  Definitely the media.  Certainly not opposing hitters. 

But it really doesn’t matter.  Lackey won’t meet the expectations of the Red Sox Faithful until he looks in the mirror and is afraid of himself.