Angst be gone

A few months back, before the Red Sox crumbled, a pipe dream began to materialize on Chicago’s North Side. Maybe the Cubs, who would be looking to replace fired GM Jim Hendry, could lure Boston’s Theo Epstein, the proclaimed curse-killer.

It initially felt like something Cubs fans could use to talk themselves down from the ledge.

But as straws were being grasped, the possibility was never shot down by any of the involved parties—Epstein, Red Sox owner John Henry, Cubs officials. And of course, as we now know, the environment in Boston had become toxic, to the point that Epstein’s potential departure would seem justified.

What once seemed like a long shot became reality, because of a combination of good fortune and unparalleled opportunity.

Yeah, that’s right, Cubbies. Luck is on your side—for the time being, at least. If that isn’t reason to raise an ice-cold Old Style in celebration, I don’t know what is. The “Lovable Losers,” whose star-crossed history includes run-ins with a Billy goat and a black cat, seem destined for a run at respectability.

None of this means Theo—and his haircut—will deliver a long-desired championship. Even for someone with Epstein’s resume, remodeling the Cubs will present a unique challenge. What do you do with Carlos Zambrano? How long will it take to replenish the farm system? And these questions will need to be answered with a smaller budget than he had in Boston.

One thing is certain: Epstein’s arrival has removed the malaise that had surrounded the franchise by season’s end and replaced it with optimism. For Cub faithful—and its 103 years of baggage—the possibility that the C on the cap will stand for competence has to be reassuring.

Temporarily, at least, it’s good to be a Cubs fan, and that’s not an everyday mindset.

All the hot air that was beginning to collect in Chicago has made it way eastward. Almost unbelievably, Red Sox Nation has reached a pre-2004 level of tension, enough to cut with a knife. Kind of like the one that was twisted into Terry Francona’s back this week. If the season’s collapse wasn’t enough, now Tito has to deal with rumors that he had turned into an addict.

The whole situation reeks of desperation, bad PR and a lack of accountability. It’s time for the Red Sox organization—especially those who threw Francona under the bus—to look at itself in the mirror.

Do like what you see, what you’ve become? No, fear not, you’re not turning into your mother; it’s you’re Daddy, the New York Yankees, staring back.

The Red Sox—after a few championships—have become faceless, corporate shills, whose main motivation is to overspend problems. There issues go much deeper than a few guys eating fried and drinking PBR—something tells me that Josh Beckett enjoys Pabst—during games.

Once the Red Sox realize they’ve become what they detest, it could be time to right the ship. In the meantime, though, they may scare off the “next Theo,” which could send the franchise on another decade-long tailspin.

If that’s the case, you know how Red Sox Nation will handle it, with a sense of irrationality and angst, of course.

Epstein, no doubt, will have stakes just as large. If he can put a Billy Goat mount next to the Bambino head in his trophy room, he will be the stuff of legends, a sure-fire, first-ballot hall of famer.

Go ahead, Cubs fans, you can smile at the possibility.