Sacred and Profane

John Updike passed today, another celebrant of the Fenway tradition gone. The author had written of the ballpark, "a compromise between Man's Euclidean determinations and Nature's beguiling irregularities." Rest in peace.

And the Mexican standoff between the chintzy Sox brass, only willing to pony up five million dollars, and the Boras-Varitek brain trust, deepens as a Saturday deadline beckons. In one corner, management spending prudently and cautiously amidst the greatest economic crisis in eighty years. In the other, the flawless Darrow-like barrister whose mastery of hyperbole is not exceeded.

The Red Sox have concerns about their veteran catcher's age and declining offensive skills. Scott Boras and his client remain worried about the denominations of Red Sox currency. What both sides need to accept (I think the Red Sox have) is not only the benefit (money on the table), but the risk, as Varitek lacks another suitable destination. If he had one then he would be gone.

George Bernard Shaw was at a party and asked a woman if she would sleep with him for a hefty sum. Her interest seemed piqued. He then asked if she would sleep with him for two pounds. She asked him, "what kind of woman do you think I am?" Shaw replied, "we have established the kind of woman you are; we are negotiating the price."

The Red Sox are simply negotiating the price with Scott Boras.