O P I N I O N
NOT THAT PROFOUND
By Nathan Graziano
My wife has long pointed out that sports are essentially soap operas for men, meaning they sate our taste for drama while allowing us to avoid watching “The Real Housewives of Planet Earth,” or whatever city those catty and terrible women currently occupy.
Now, here I am, for the second time in a week, revisiting my old role as a sports columnist after a veritable avalanche of sports drama has befallen the New England region.
I’m not inclined to comment on Mike Vrabel and Dianna Rossini’s sordid affair, or whatever it may be. For me, the only story of interest, interests me as a journalist, and that has more to do with whether Rossini crossed the profession’s ethical lines by canoodling with a source1.
The rest of this salacious story needs to be sorted out by the parties in question and their respective spouses, and I wish that the public would give all of them some space to breathe and grieve.
However, on Saturday night, while I was watching a Netflix documentary on Vermont’s Noah Kahan, “Out of Body,” I received a text from my daughter asking if I had heard about Red Sox manager Alex Cora being fired by ownership.
At first, I thought she had jumped down one of the endless social media rabbit holes and, maybe, the story had been misreported.
But I was wrong.
After a 17-1 drubbing of the Baltimore Orioles during a Saturday matinee, the Red Sox brass decided to go scorched earth on our massively underperforming 10-17 (at the time) hometown team.
This started with the firing of manager Alex Cora, as well as a good chunk of his coaching staff, including former catcher and captain and three-time World Series winner Jason Varitek, who is reportedly being reassigned to another role in the organization.
While I understand the sentiment, this is analogous to treating cancer with Tylenol. The people who are really responsible for the dumpster fire that has been the 2026 Red Sox remain unscathed, largely Chief Baseball Officer Craig Breslow, who essentially lit the match.
Meanwhile, owner John Henry, who has been routinely met with “sell the team” chants from the Fenway faithful this season, remains either indifferent, oblivious, or all of the above.
For starters, Breslow is the man responsible for assembling the product on the field this season, which is clearly not good enough. Breslow whiffed on signing a big bat in the off-season—Pete Alonso and Kyle Schwarber come to mind—and couldn’t seal the deal with Alex Bregman, which brought the feckless Caleb Durbin to Boston to play third base.
One could assume that Breslow was acting on the directives of Henry, who simply doesn’t want to put money into the team anymore. However, the Red Sox—despite being out of the Top Ten in payroll—still continue to fetch some of the highest ticket and concession prices in the MLB.
In other words, what incentive does Henry have to invest in the team when they continue to sell out home games, largely so fans can have their “Fenway Experience” and sing “Sweet Caroline” in the middle of eighth inning each night—adding their emphatic “ba-ba-ba’s” and “So good, so good” chants to that already crappy song—regardless of the score in the game?
Perhaps, the problem wasn’t Alex Cora, who became the sacrificial lamb, rather those two aforementioned jamokes, as well as the fans who continue to shell out the cash and line the ownership’s pockets, regardless of the product.
Dr. Creepy will only get the message if Sox fans stop going to the games and paying $30 for a Bud Light and a steamed hot dog so they can serenade themselves with “Sweet Caroline” as the Sox soil their uniforms.
At least the New Hampshire Fisher Cats are pulling back into town this week for a series with Binghamton Rumble Ponies at Delta Dental Stadium, where it is affordable, friendly, and the only drama happens on the diamond.
As for Henry and Breslow, I’d like to kindly suggest that they both attempt something that is anatomically impossible.
- She did. ↩︎
You can reach Nate Graziano at grazio5@yahoo.com