As a Yankees fan, I am very much pleased by the events of this past weekend.  And I will admit a perverse pleasure: I read the Boston Globe sports columnists on days like today.  Indeed, I thought this piece a few days ago by Dan Shaughnessy was the most searing response to the David Ortiz drug scandal of any I have seen.  But this morning's column by Bob Ryan reveal a Taoist-like element in the character of Red Sox manager Terry Francona. 

A bit of background: the Boston nine has lost six games in a row.  They were swept out of Yankee Stadium.  Their season is in tatters, not completely irretreviable by pretty near.   Here is Ryan's description of Francona's attitude last night, at the nadir of the current crisis:

…The Red Sox are New England’s
concern, and this team has to think ahead, not back. Asked to sum up
the last six days, Francona explained that, while he understood the
request, he doesn’t think that way.

“It
wasn’t a whole lot of fun,’’ he acknowledged. “But when I start doing
that, it’s like a batter who’s 0 for 16 makes an out in his first
at-bat, and then slams his helmet. We fight so hard not to let that
happen.’’

In case you’re
still a bit confused, the translation of that baseball lifer shorthand
is that in this game you can’t allow yourself to think in that kind of
linear fashion. We – fans and media alike – find it easy and logical to
make connections. We think about streaks. Baseball people are trained
to live day-by-day, never, as they say, getting too high when things
are going well or too low when things get rocky.

Francona
stopped thinking about the events of last Tuesday night on Wednesday,
other than you don’t want certain mistakes repeated. What he knows is
that there was a very good chance for a victory last night, but that’s
the way it goes sometimes. He awoke this morning thinking about
tonight, not dwelling on tomorrow.

You can't think in a linear fashion.  Don't try to make logical connections.  Live day-by-day.  Focus on what is right in front of you…. It all sounds a bit Taoist.  Perhaps passage 20 of the Daodejing contains some advice for the sinking Sox:

If you give up learning, troubles end.

How much difference is there between yes and no?  And is there a difference between lovely and ugly?

If we can't stop fearing those things people fear, it's pure confusion, never ending confusion.

The more philosophic among the Boston faithful may well be asking themselves today: is there a difference between lovely and ugly?