Now that we’re past the fleeting hope that the deal would crumble and the Red Sox have gone and traded the marvelous Mookie Betts to the Dodgers (for real this time), I suppose we must come to the acceptance portion of the program.
I’m not suggesting there’s anything resembling grief in the Red Sox’ soulless, financially motivated decision — can we call it a mandate now that it’s done? — to trade the most complete, like near-perfect player they’ve developed in generations as he enters his age-27 season.
To suggest there’s anything to grieve about in baseball would be to reveal a woeful lack of perspective; baseball at its best is a satisfying shared experience, a sunny diversion from the frequent heaviness of life.