Some Thoughts on Mike Lowell

There's been a change in the weather. At least, that's the way it seems to me. Before contract negotiations even began (hell, before the World Series even ended), people were calling for the Front Office to re-sign Mike Lowell. Almost as soon as the duckboats returned to Fenway, though, the rumbling started and the tone of the conversation turned decidedly defeatist: "He's not coming back." "He wants four years and they're only willing to go three." "The leaking of the deal that they offered him reeks of a PR move." "How bad would A-Rod be for the clubhouse, really?" Everyone was still saying "Re-sign Lowell" but it was much quieter and most seemed willing to push him out the door.

I don't think that anyone dislikes Mike Lowell nor do I think that anyone begrudges him the opportunity to make more money by playing for another team. He seems like a good guy; genuine and decent. He's smart. He doesn't have a super-inflated ego. He's got a sense of humor and that giant grin that he was sporting in the days following the World Series was so warm, grateful, and friendly that it just invited you to smile back at him.

So why did we give up on him so easily? Because we're doom and gloom, puritanical New Englanders. Aphorisms of the New England spirit: No good deed goes unpunished; every silver lining has a dark cloud. All positive things are evened out by negative ones; don't rejoice too much in good fortune because the puritanical God (or in this case, the baseball god) is a capricious one and your luck could change with the cold November wind.

We liked losing. We were comfortable with it. Bill Buckner should be held up amongst the heroes of New England. [Aside: I think he already is, in a way. I don't know anyone who truly reviles the man and even when you hear someone mutter "Buckner" under their breath, there's affection behind it.] He affirmed for us what we already knew to be true.

The glint from the World Series trophy is like a ray of sunlight cutting through our cold, dark, gray, gloomy November and we don't know what to do with it. It's turned November on it's head. Nobody wants Mike Lowell to leave but his signing with another team would set things right.

So I'll sit here whispering "Re-sign Lowell" half hoping that they will, while the other half worries about what sort of calamity would befall us if it were to happen. Perhaps Beckett would accidentally shoot himself in the foot whilst hunting.



To be filed under: You Learn Something Knew Every Day: "Re-sign Lowell" and "Resign Lowell" do not mean the same thing.