Lethargy: Thy Name Is Red Sox

I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this ballclub. What started out to be a likeable, crisp (no pun intended), opportunistic group of achievers has morphed into a sluggish, clutch-less, un-likable bunch of coasters who seem to think they can cake-walk to the AL East Flag. I have to think a lot of this is the fault of the manager, but Tito doesn't put up miniscule run totals game after game after game. It's this punchless offense that does.

Maybe it's the sub-par production of Manny & Papi (despite the latest resurgence) that's getting under my skin. Maybe it's the laid back attitude of J.D. Drew after the 357th slow roller to second base. Maybe it's Wily Mo's utter cluelessness at the plate and in the outfield. I don't know, you just get the sense that these guys wouldn't last one round in a playoff with the Angels, Tigers, Twins or even Mariners—let alone the Empire.

This was the homestand that was supposed to enhance our division lead while Toronto and The Evil Ones beat up one another. So much for that strategy.

I was one of the few who opposed the Nomar trade in 2004, but there is no denying that it gave a shot in the arm to a team that was on a treadmill to oblivion (thank you, Fred Allen). Maybe we need a scaled-down 2007 version of that blockbuster to light a fire under this squad of squanderers. Theo, you have our blessing. Go for it.