The 2010 Red Sox's problem is the same problem that has been harrowing men for centuries, the problem that has caused men to overcompensate out of fear that their weakness might become apparent. Yes, The Red Sox, like most males, lack the Big Bat.
Warning: the following onslaught of double-entendres might cause dizziness, shortness of breath, a realization of shortness of appendages, liver problems, or diarrhea.
While The Crypt-Keeper John Henry threw his cash at John Lackey like a housewife at a male stripper in a leopard-skin banana-hammock, the Sox still can't swagger into spring training this season like, say, the impressively-endowed (although very homosexual) Yankees. Granted, on paper, the Sox rotation reads as tight as a Hemingway line. Unflappable. But beware, while folks love to wield cliches like "Pitching wins pennants" and "It's not the size of the boat, it's the motion in the ocean," in our heart of hearts, we all know the truth.
Yes. Admittedly, the prospect of having Lester, Beckett, and Lackey in a short series arouses the imagination; however, when your deep in a tight game, Mike Cameron, Marcus Scutaro, or a less-than-sturdy Andre Beltre does little to ease the anxiety. And when you're looking for Youk to plug the Four-hole, forgive me, if I question the potential. Big Papi has become a Little Dribble of his former self, and V-Mart, a more than adequate hitter in the catcher slot, is not the monster with the wood we were looking for.
And J.D. Drew has always been limp and disappointing.
But we haven't begun spring training yet. There's always the chance of enhancement. And, you know what, sometimes the little guys win. Not often, but every now and then.