The last time the Red Sox were this bad during a weekend of baseball at Fenway Park, Ray Milland won an Oscar for The Lost Weekend.
For those who missed Milland's only great performance, he played an alcoholic who experiences Delirium Tremens as only director Billy Wilder could present.
For those who are too young to have DTs but only understand taking too much Human Growth Hormone, there is less feminization of the gonads, but not as bad as Delirium Clemens.
This lost weekend in Boston came for director Bobby Valentine. He may have thought this must be rock bottom. Alas, the bedrock is only in the heads of his players. Any gold statuette for this performance went to fans who paid money to watch 17 innings.
The usual suspects are insisting that losing to extra extra-inning games is the fault of the manager. When things were at their worst on Sunday, with no pitching left, Valentine went in the same direction as Terry Francona last year: he called on Ace Darnell McDonald.
Outfielder Darnell looked great for a Chippendale model, but promptly gave up a three run homer into the Monster Seats.
If harbingers come in the spring like daffodils, Bobby V and Terry F have smelled the flowers and found them wanting.
A few daffy Red Sox Nation fans have called on Ben Cherington to call up Francona and invite him back, not for a celebration of the park, but to re-take his team. The red carpet has been vacuumed and rolled out.
Others with even smaller gray cells have wondered if Jerry Remy will ever come off the disabled list to manage the Sox.
Once again, the Sox seem overloaded with a group of players who'd rather be playing somewhere else-places like Japan, San Diego, Tampa Bay, or heaven forefend Kansas City. We already know that Josh Beckett prefers the panhandle of Texas.
The sequel to this Lost Weekend is the Lost Season.