John Lackey: Another Orpheus Descending into Boston Infamy - Bleacherreport.com

Lackey heard the siren of Boston, calling him to his doom.
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HUMOR Is it our imagination or does John Lackey seem like a man at the end of his rope?

The trap door of the scaffold has not fallen open yet, but Lackey seems to be teetering on the brink of doom, and the rope is now fitting tightly around his neck.

Lackey has a contract that is sweet enough for him to laugh all the way to the bank, but the Red Sox owners may begin to think of Lackey pitching as sourdough and a little hard to swallow.

Lackey now fumes at his manager if Terry Francona wants to take him out of an abysmal inning. He fumes at opposing hitters who jump on the cream puffs he serves. He jumps on the media for daring to suggest that his salary would be better given to charity cases.

Poor John Lackey. He came to Boston with more money than Josh Beckett and a presumption that he would be the ace, the stopper, the big game guy. He has been more like the deuce, the strainer, and like big game with a bulls-eye on its back.

We do not want to be another in the necktie party, sending out invitations to those who want to bully and to bash Mr. Lackey.

In fact, we feel a bit bad for him. He was brought here under false pretenses, and the fall guy for this decision is you-guessed-it, the Boy Wonder himself, the man in the front office.

Just as certain whales can feed off their fat, Theo Epstein will likely feed off his World Series victories in Boston for the rest of his life. Its the rest of us who may start to look emaciated.

Dont blame Lackey for taking the money Epstein so generously offered. After all, Lackey actually seemed to like the idea of signing with Boston and winning.

Weve watched J.D. Drew for years, another Epstein gem, and trust us: John Lackey is no J.D. Drew. Lackey, at least, has some fire in his intestines, and a little flair in his arrogance. Alas, there is no pop in his fastball.

The match of Boston and Lackey may be less scientific than some online dating services, but he was not exactly a Last Call pickup at the Cheers bar.

No, Theo sent him roses and a bushel of dollars, picked fresh from the money tree. He wined and dined Lackey to woo him to his inevitable fate.

Like one of those ancient Sirens calling sailors to their doom, Theo has a knack lately for enticing the passing ships of the night to stop at the port of Boston. He seems particularly adept at crooning a lullaby of dollar signs to shortstops.

Free agents ought to be tied to the mast and have cotton balls stuffed into their ears, lest they sign with Bostons seductive Theo.

Though Lackey probably wishes he could take the next slow boat out of town, he knows that his fate is somewhere akin to Dice-K. He will be exiled to the palms of the Gulf Coast to rehab until such time as he can be quietly unloaded like a bushel of overripe bananas.