He gave us teams that earned three rings—but he also chained us to a 105-year old cramped ballpark. He gave us better fan services—but, every chance he got, he burdened us with his pretentious, politically-correct view of the world. He
claimed to love baseball, but he flew across the pond to watch foreign soccer
way too often. He spent
part of his billions to get us players like
Curt Schilling,
Chris Sale and
Craig Kimbrel—but went on the cheap at critical times (like never even making an
offer on
Giancarlo Stanton). In short, it's time for
John Henry to go—
far, far away. He was
never one of us—a carpetbagger from parts unknown with pocket-protector geekiness. He is not and will never be Boston.
Adios, Ichabod Crane! Don't let the door in the Green Monster hit you on the way out.
