Farewell, Terry Francona

Terry Francona's value as the Red Sox manager is well encapsulated in his endorsement of Bigelow Green Tea. That a professional sports figure would endorse tea requires confidence -- it's not exactly the most masculine product to profess to love. But it's also inherently soothing and reflective of Francona's calm personality and influence.

In the early 21st century, when nearly all players are financially secure the moment they sign their first free-agent contract and thus free to do as they please, a manager's greatest talent is shepherding the clubhouse, not any particular in-game strategy or decision. Francona was a very good tactician, though not renowned for it. He was better known for trusting his leading players, even when they were in deep slumps -- which usually worked, particularly for Dustin Pedroia early in his career and David Ortiz late in his -- because he and the Red Sox management understand that players' revert to their typical performance. And he was best known for preserving a calm atmosphere around the team, which is a fantastic accomplishment considering the fan- and media-created hysteria that surrounds the Sox daily. The way he deflected every question rationally and modestly was admirable and kept the team humming.

Perhaps it's not surprising that the Sox have descended into a foggy panic since Francona resigned at the end of a hugely disappointing to the end of the season. The franchise insinuated he had a prescription-drug problem, three starting pitchers spent games during the season eating chicken and drinking beer in the clubhouse and John Henry, the team's owner, did an impromptu 60-minute interview with one of the sports talk stations because he was so mad about what they were saying on the air. Even the beat reporters are squabbling with each other! Tedium, apparently, knows no depths. Without Francona -- and now Theo Epstein, who's about to leave as general manager while still only 37 years old, and also had a pleasingly rational and successful approach to the game -- there's no stabilizing force.

The Sox collapsed and missed the playoffs because their pitching collapsed. First, they had too many injuries. Then, no one performed up to their means, which partly comes from poor conditioning brought on by beer and fried chicken, but is also a matter of personal focus and execution that can be tough to pinpoint. It resembled the end of the Mets' 2007 season, when no one could be trusted, and Francona likely knew it. For four weeks (and two more at the season's start), the Sox were awful, but for the remaining four-plus months, they were baseball's best team and only missed the playoffs by one game. Their roster is actually in adequate shape heading into next year.

However, no one, particularly the press, believes this, so it's probably best that Francona left, as sad as it is to say. What I remember from the 2008 Mets, after that epic collapse the previous year (which I contend is more historic than the Sox's because the Mets wasted a lead that was only two games smaller in 10 fewer games), was nothing happened without the specter of the previous year hanging over it. Any time they struggled, everyone assumed Willie Randolph would be fired as manager -- and then he finally was at 4:15 a.m. EST on a weekday in June. Now, no one on the Sox can open their mouths without creating huge news because everyone is obsessed. The same situation will persist into spring training next year, until the team starts playing and winning games again, and it would've remained even longer if Francona stayed because any miniscule hint of trouble would've revived all of this fall's hysteria. Without him, there's a clean slate but not a mug of Bigelow green tea, steam rising, or careful decisions being made.