The Boston Red Sox have set a new record for members of media and team whistling past the graveyard.
Putting on a happy face has never been quite as ugly as this week when backstabbing players started singing a different tune. They were not such bad guys after all, according to revisionist journalists. They have been misquoted and misrepresented.
There was a loathsome snitch (what, again?) on the team who had put out a false depiction of the secret meetings between ownership and players (without a manager to be seen).
As Mark Twain or Larry Lucchino might say, reports of Valentine's demise are greatly exaggerated.
When one man went to President Richard Nixon and said there was a cancer on his presidency, that historical shock was a bombshell and mushroom cloud.
When over half the Red Sox players go to owner John Henry and claim there is a Bobby Valentine ruining his club, that catastrophe seems to be another day at the office.
The end result was to send Kelly Shoppach on his way to the lowly Mets, a place where all Red Sox upstarts serve a sentence as a first step in Purgatory. Shoppach immediately told the media that there was disconnect between owners and players.
So much for harmony upon the S.S. Minnow, or whatever John Henry calls his famous yacht moored in Boston Harbor.
We half expect anonymous fans (or players) dressed as Native Americans to lead a raid on the ship and throw the teabags over the side. If that doesn't send a message to the Marie Antoinette of owners, nothing will work.
John Henry issued an email response to the furor and noted that the fans will continue to eat cake. It's all a big misunderstanding fostered by the dastardly media.