Bobby Valentine is now going where no manager has gone before.
This is the voyage of the 2012 Red Sox, an intrepid group of baseball players who have no chemistry or biology that in any way resembles a team
The mission of Bobby Valentine was supposed to be to explore new worlds and follow the prime directive: make no waves.
Alas, Valentine has lost control of the baseball game. He is no longer controlling the vertical. He is no longer controlling the horizontal.He cannot make the pitcher a soft blur to fans that see the pitcher in crystal clarity.
Valentine is in for a trip that reaches from the inner strike zone to the outer scoreboard.
Bobby V has entered a new dimension, one beyond the typical sights and sounds of baseball. Valentine has unlocked the clubhouse door with the key to the chicken and beer refrigerator.
He has entered the fifth dimension where the media is as unknown as space and as timeless as infinity. Bobby's understanding of Boston baseball lies between the pit of his fears and the summit of his knowledge.
He is now in an area called a wondrous park whose boundaries are those of a cornfield and a muddy river.
Valentine has moved beyond shadow and substance. His next stop is up ahead: the signpost says "ESPN Analyst."
In the meantime, fans are wandering aimlessly in the Valentine Zone.
