The scene: 11 AM, December 10, 2011, Dan Shaughnessy's kitchen
Dan and his son Sam are sitting at the table. Sam is noticeably hung over, and has marks on his wrists from where he had been handcuffed the night before.
Dan: Well, son, last night it seems you went out, got drunk, screamed obscenities and punched a cop. What do you have to say for yourself?
Sam: I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. If I had stayed at Larry's, none of this would have happened.
Dan: That's an excuse, you lazy beer-and-chicken eating perp.
Sam: I was hurt...I got cut from the BC baseball team and I thought you'd be mad. I know how you hate anything that hurts your book sales.
Dan: You look like a guy who just hates being here. Maybe we should trade you.
Sam (raises eyebrow, puzzled): Huh?
Dan: You really need to stop ducking my emails and take responsibility. And no, it doesn't matter if I mistyped your name in the TO line.
Sam (totally bewildered, sputtering): Things aren’t going the way you want them to, so you’re scrutinized
more. We sort of made that bed ourselves and it’s up to us to make it
better. When we make it better there will be less scrutiny and probably
Dan: Amen, to that. Finally someone in a position of power admits the reality.
And that is today's column in a nutshell. Just substitute "Ben Cherington/Red Sox" for "Sam." As usual, don't confuse The CHB with the facts.