Red Sox Blues: Theo Epstein Lost and Delirious in Boston

When the Red Sox won the 2004 World Series in dreamlike fashion, this long-suffering fan reveled in what had transpired...and marveled at what was in store.

I had good reason for optimism, I thought: Theo Epstein.

Maybe I got caught up in the moment.

Growing up in the Boston area taught me some things about sports. The Celtics had great management off the court and often on it, and won 16 championships in the NBA's first 40 seasons most of them when I was a kid in the 1960s. With M.L. Carr, Rick Pitino, and Danny Ainge running the club, their luck hasn't quite been the same.

The Bruins, on the other hand, won when they were smart enough to get Bobby Orr, Phil Esposito, and a host of others but floundered because Harry Sinden wasn't allowed to spend the revenue generated by years of sellouts.

The Patriots were the unwanted stepchildren...until Bill Belichick arrived. I have to admit that the wonderful event wasn't deemed so wonderful by me when it occurred. How many times can I say I was wrong?

And then there were the Red Sox, and The Curse. The Sox came close more than a few times, but the lack of pitching, defense, speed, and adequate on-field management (save Dick Williams) and off-field smarts (save a couple of GMs who had brief flashes of competence) doomed the club more than Babe Ruth ever could.

The Bambino's loss screwed the Sox in the 1920s, but not in 1978.

Enter Theo Epstein. After the 2003 disaster (which was Grady Little's fault), Epstein put together a 2004 team with plenty of holdovers from the Dan Duquette era. After a good start, they struggled through the trading deadline, playing .500 ball after April.

Then, in one day, Theo changed the face of the franchise: He traded Nomar Garciaparra (whom I admired but had tired of) and brought in speed and defense to complement the team's power.

The result was a near-perfect ball club a squad built on character and craziness, with a will to win and no fear of losing.

Orlando Cabrera excelled on the field and in the clubhouse, and banged out a number of big hits. Dave Roberts will be remembered for one steal, but his daily contributions were essential to the mix. When the Sox trotted out Gabe Kapler for Trot Nixon on defense and added Pokey Reese and Doug Mientkiewicz on the right side of the infield, their gloves finally did justice to their bats and their arms.

After the World Series, Theo dismantled the team. And that didn't bother me so much. That's sports today, after all no squad is together long.

But Theo also dismantled something else in the wake of the championship: the mentality that defense, speed, and pitching win ball games, and the philosophy of building a system instead of buying mercenaries like J.D. "Nancy" Drew.

(And yes, we're all economic mercenaries in the United States but still.)

Now, Theo has a no-defense club. He didn't learn from his success. Instead, we're right back where we started, with a version of the lumbering, leather-challenged Sox teams of the past.

Letting Cabrera go, allegedly because he's a free swinger, was a mistake. The trades of Hanley Ramirez, Anibal Sanchez, and Bronson Arroyo are more galling. Think the Sox might take Ramirez over the inconsistent Julio Lugo and his four-year, $40 million contract at shortstop?

And the list goes on. Suffice it to say that, instead of building a real baseball team, Theo has gone the route of his predecessors: He's turned the Red Sox into a slow-pitch softball team.

Meanwhile, under the watch of the brainy Brian Cashman, the New York Yankees have produced Chien-Ming Wang, Robinson Cano, and Melky Cabrera and have an influx of talent on the way, thanks largely to  the timely trade of spare part Gary Sheffield to Detroit.

Somehow, things feel a lot like they did before 2004.

Curses.