But wouldn't you agree that they've become just a tad . . . bland? Despite all the success and popularity, hasn't some of the color faded from these carmine hose?
Red Sox television ratings were down 20 percent last year. The pregame show ratings fell by a full one-third. This year's spring training was remarkable for its tranquility. No holdouts, no latecomers, no intramural dustups around the batting cage. No long-hair leaping gnomes. It was all about baseball.
Once a roster peppered with divas, blogboys, and Jesus action figures, the Red Sox of 2009 are downright button-down. No more gypsies, tramps, and thieves. With few exceptions (hello, Jonathan Papelbon), members of the local nine are on time and in line. Don't expect anyone in this group to someday fess up about taking shots of Jack Daniels before the big games.
"I think we all want to have that business atmosphere," says Tim Wakefield, who is entering his 15th season with the Sox and who has seen it all. "I don't think we have that personality we used to have. I'm not saying it was bad - that was a lot of fun. It's just different."
Think about it: Would any of you recognize left fielder Jason Bay if he knocked on your door selling candy bars for a school band trip?
Bay doesn't blog, doesn't relieve himself inside the Green Monster, and has not asked to be traded. All he does is play baseball the way baseball is supposed to be played. Which is why he's coveted by Theo Epstein, the general manager/master of the universe who has put his flatline stamp on Boston's once-chaotic clubhouse.
"I think when you have 25 guys working hard, playing selflessly with a common goal, it's anything but boring," says the franchise architect. "I find it meaningful and invigorating when that happens."
Culminating with the jettisoning of Manny RamÃrez last summer, the Sox' roster has undergone a radical change since cartoon characters ruled the clubhouse in the magical summer of 2004.
It's not accidental.
