Waiting for the Kids

Photo: The Sporting News

Another Sunday. Another Red Sox game. Another glance at the standings.

At this point, that's the routine.

Every Sunday morning, before I even check the box score from the night before, I find myself doing the same thing. I look at the record. I look at how far they are out. I look at who's hurt, who's hot, who's not. Then I try to convince myself that maybe this week will feel different.

Most weeks it doesn't.

The Red Sox finished May sitting in last place in the American League East. Not mathematically out of anything, but not exactly inspiring confidence. They're not bad enough to completely give up on, but they're not good enough to make anyone feel comfortable.

But somehow, there is still hope.

The funny thing is, that hope isn't coming from the major league roster.

It's coming from the kids.

If you've spent any time talking Red Sox baseball lately, every conversation seems to end in the same place.

"Just wait until Roman Anthony gets back."

"Marcelo Mayer is going to be special."

"Payton Tolle looks like the real deal."

"Connelly Early is a big part of the future."

The future.

That's become the favorite word around Red Sox Nation.

Not today.

Not this season.

The future.

And while there's certainly reason to be excited about these young players, I wonder if we're asking too much of them before they've even unpacked their bags.

Because right now, it feels like we're asking an entire generation of prospects to save the franchise.

That's a lot to put on anyone.

I remember when prospects were viewed differently.

Back in the 1980s and 1990s, young players arrived to join established veterans. They weren't expected to carry the organization on their backs.

Roger Clemens didn't have to save the Red Sox.

Jim Rice didn't have to save the Red Sox.

Nomar Garciaparra didn't have to save the Red Sox.

They were important pieces. Sometimes franchise-changing pieces. But they joined teams that already had identities.

The Red Sox knew who they were.

Today, I'm not sure anyone knows.

For years, Red Sox fans always had a face of the franchise.

Rice. Boggs. Clemens. Nomar. Ortiz. Pedro. Manny. Mookie. Devers.

There was always somebody. A player you could point to and say, "That's the guy."

Who is that now? Honestly, I'm not sure.

Ask ten Red Sox fans at Dunkin' tomorrow morning and you might get ten different answers.

Garrett Crochet? Maybe.

He's been one of the few bright spots this season and certainly pitches like an ace.

Marcelo Mayer? Could be.

But he's barely getting started.

Roman Anthony? Possibly.

But he needs time to heal and remain injury free.

For the first time in a long time, hope isn't attached to what we've already seen. It's attached to what we imagine might happen.

And imagination is a dangerous thing in baseball.

Prospects are exciting because they haven't failed yet.

Every prospect is an All-Star until proven otherwise.

Every hard-throwing pitcher becomes the next Roger Clemens.

Then reality shows up.

That's not pessimism. That's baseball.

Some prospects become stars.

Some become solid major leaguers.

Some become role players.

Some disappear entirely.

That's always been true.

Which is why I worry when I hear fans talk about Roman Anthony like he's the final piece to a championship puzzle.

He's 22 years old.

He's supposed to develop.

He's supposed to struggle.

He's supposed to make mistakes.

That's what young players do.

The same goes for Mayer. And Tolle. And Early. And every other prospect currently carrying the hopes and dreams of Red Sox Nation.

The expectation shouldn't be that they save the organization.

The expectation should be that they help build it.

There's a BIG difference.

The organizations that consistently win don't rely on prospects to rescue them. They create environments where prospects can succeed.

When Derek Jeter arrived in New York, he wasn't asked to save the Yankees.

When Buster Posey arrived in San Francisco, he wasn't expected to single-handedly rebuild the Giants.

That's how it's supposed to work.

The young players become part of the solution. Not the entire solution.

Unfortunately, that's where the Red Sox find themselves right now.

Too many unanswered questions.

Too many holes.

Too much uncertainty.

And so the burden naturally shifts to the next wave of talent.

Maybe unfairly.

As I watch this team every week, that's what stands out most.

Not the losses.

Not the standings.

Not even the inconsistency.

It's the fact that so much of the conversation centers around players who aren't fully established yet.

Think about that for a second.

A franchise with nine World Series championships and of the most recognizable brands in professional sports.

And the biggest source of optimism comes from players whose careers are only beginning.

That's both exciting and concerning at the same time.

Exciting because the talent appears legitimate.

Concerning because the organization needs them to succeed.

Maybe even desperately.

That's not a position great organizations typically want to be in.

Still, there are reasons to believe.

Mayer has shown flashes.

Crochet looks like someone you can build around.

Anthony appears to possess the rare combination of talent, patience, and maturity that organizations dream about.

Tolle has generated legitimate excitement.

There are pieces here. Real pieces. Not imaginary ones.

The challenge now is making sure they become part of something larger.

Because baseball history is full of talented young players who arrived on struggling teams and never experienced meaningful success.

Talent alone doesn't guarantee anything.

Development matters.

Leadership matters.

Culture matters.

Veteran support matters.

All of it matters.

The Red Sox have spent the last several years searching for an identity.

Maybe this next generation helps them find one.

Maybe we're watching the foundation being poured right now.

Maybe five years from now we'll look back at 2026 and realize this was the beginning of something important.

That's certainly possible.

But it's also important to remember that these young players shouldn't have to do it alone.

No prospect should be expected to carry the weight of an entire franchise.

Not Roman Anthony.

Not Marcelo Mayer.

Not anyone.

As another Sunday comes to an end, that's probably where I land.

I'm excited about the future. I really am.

For the first time in a while, there are young players worth dreaming about.

But I hope the organization doesn't confuse hope with a plan.

Hope is valuable.

Hope gets fans through seasons like this one.

Hope keeps us checking scores, watching games, and convincing ourselves that next week might finally be different.

But eventually hope has to become something more.

Eventually the kids arrive.

Eventually the future becomes the present.

And when that happens, the Red Sox better be ready to support them.

Because the kids are coming.

The question is whether we're asking them to save the franchise... or simply help lead it back to where it belongs.

Written by: Tim Hourihan

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