Yeowch! Dat hurts.
Call it whatever you want. Through the first quarter of a season, the Sox have been trounced, thumped, kicked, stomped, spanked, clubbed, destroyed and dismantled. Might as well go all the way and say they were probed, flogged, skinned, hanged, locked in a crate in handcuffs and dangled from a crane, canned in their own natural juices, verbally scorned and humiliated, and dragged into the parking and publicly belittled by area schoolchildren. It’s been tough.
There is losing, and then there is the unprecedented losing over the entire 118 years worth of team’s history.