According to today’s Globe, it looks like Terry Francona finally got up the gumption to let John Lackey know that he’ll be working out of the number three slot in the rotation, behind Commander Kick Ass and Jon Lester–something you and I and your mother and the raccoon that’s been slowly burrowing through your house already knew. In fact, I’m sure John Lackey knew the day he signed with us.
I know it helps sell papers and gives us something to talk about other than Matsuzaka’s back and Lowell’s knees, but I’ve never understood all the drama over where the big new signing is gonna “fit in.” If it’s my first day on the job, I don’t gather up all my new co-workers–folks who’ve been busting ass in the trenches for years before my goofy Irish ass walked in–and tell ’em, “Here’s a stick of gum. Let me show you how to chew it.” I just shut up, do what I’m told, collect those paychecks and spend the next several months making silent, mental notes of everyone I want to lay open with a staple remover.
But now that it’s “officially” okay with Lackey, well, I guess we’re all the better for it. Play ball.
