Lucchino and Werner were with the Sox baseball operations staff, which had worked with little sleep for several days, and had been deflated when the deal with Florida was falling apart. The brass had met Wednesday, a meeting that also included Epstein and manager Terry Francona, and while majority owner John W. Henry still seemed reluctant to make a deal, there was a growing consensus that it was a trade the Sox had to make.
Management had taken an informal poll of the club's veteran leaders; what it was hearing was that Francona was in danger of losing the clubhouse if Ramírez was allowed to continue in the same vein, begging off from playing because of injuries teammates privately questioned, obsessing on his contract, playing hard when the mood suited him.
Uniformed personnel and management also felt there was a risk Ramírez would quit on the team, even though he had plenty of incentive to play hard with a new contract at stake.
Bay was not anybody's idea of a first-ballot Hall of Famer, but the Sox felt they had scored a coup, acquiring a quality player who would not hinder their efforts to return to the World Series.
Ramírez, meanwhile, showed up at Fenway Park and with the help of clubhouse attendant Pookie Jackson loaded his white Mercedes SUV with his bats and the rest of his equipment. So long, Yawkey Way. Mannywood, here we come.
Gordon Edes can be reached at edes@globe.com.