COMMENTARY
For two full seasons, Alex Cora was the darling of the baseball world, one of its hottest managerial prospects delivering a debut for the ages once the Red Sox gave him an opportunity.
On Thursday, he capped a crash back to Earth by looking like that most vulgar of managerial comparisons: Late-stage Bobby Valentine. As Ferris Bueller once told us, “Life moves pretty fast.”
Thursday afternoon‘s conclusion would have made the perfect final scene in a 1980s comedy, come to think of it. Cora, the loudmouth antagonist for the last few hours, stewing from a distance (to the strains of Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark, probably) as he watched the underdogs celebrate saving the ski area and/or winning the campus Olympics to keep the frat house from being turned into condos.