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 thos...
Read Complete Article at Bleacher Report - Sports & Society
Article is property of BleacherReport.com