Dear Theo Epstein:
There's going to be a lot of noise around Fenway for the foreseeable future concerning a certain aging right-handed pitcher. Of course, this is not the aging right-handed pitcher who blogs from your dugout. Instead, it's the aging right-handed pitcher whom you declined to bury in money back at the beginning of May. For which, I tell you, we are all grateful. This has nothing at all to do with money. The salaries commanded by professional athletes never bothered me much. (Now, if we're talking about famous righties from the Reagan era, the fact that Elliott Abrams is back drawing a government paycheck is far more aggravating than the fact that Roger Clemens again will cash one from an outpost in Major League Baseball.) On balance, I couldn't care less if you spend down the franchise's resources until John Henry sells me an apple in Kenmore Square. Rather, I'm just happy that you declined to bring the circus back to town. For decades, the worst thing about the Yankees wasn't that they won so often. It was that they did so with such lordly disdain, far above the desperate hurly-burly of the teams trying to catch them. They did everything but toss money off a balcony to the peasants. Well, it appears that looking up in the standings at the Devil Rays doth panic a team's mind wonderfully. New York went after Clemens with all the cool rationality of a deer trying to cross the track at Talladega. (If a franchise could flop-sweat, the Yankees in April would have looked like a combination of Richard Nixon and Victoria Falls.) You have a nice, talented, peaceful pitching staff , with Curt Schilling there to strike people out and handle media relations. Modesty so becomes them. Why change that now?