Have you ever attended a holiday party where they did a Yankee swap, and there was something there that everyone thought was crappy, but you really wanted it? So you snatched it up on your turn? And since you didn't realize that it was so crappy you waited with bated breath, praying that no one would take it away from you when their turn came?
An example of this might have been one of those wax nose and moustaches, which as kids we mistakenly took for candy. Or, it might have been plastic fake vomit. Or, it could be the position of General Manager of the Boston Red Sox.
The trouble with the Yankee swap was that it was so fast that you hardly had a chance in the whirlwind of events to really look at what you were picking. Rational thought rarely entered into it. In the current Sox GM situation, however, guys appear to have that one extra night to realize that the job would suck ass. This is trouble for the team.
However, as Gail Nokes states in Raising Arizona, "I'd rather light a candle than curse your darkness". So, I have a solution. I will take the job. I'm not rational or sensible. I have shown no ability to wrestle with authority in any of my prior positions in the workspace. I am physically incapable of sucking up (leading to a conversation with management at B of A that included the phrase "don't let the door hit you in the ass"), but nobody likes a good suck-up. I toady painfully. So I'm a personality fit.
On the baseball side of the house, I was a star in little league, all the way up until I lost almost total interest in living my dad's projected dreams. So I understand the game, -ish. Where I make errors in talent evaluation I will almost certainly balance them by getting guys that make up for a lack of ability with a blue-collar, "dirt dog" attitude. I will not trade for any truly fat players unless they have ironic nicknames. If a player is completely insane I will make sure that they are also injury-prone so we only have to put up with their shit on the field until a hammy blows out. I'll get one decent year out of every reliever I sign. I'll over-spend on somebody every year, because I can. Basically, I will encompass years of Boston General Management in one devil-may-care package. Why not?
Best of all, I come cheap. They can lowball me, I don't care. I'll be there for the fans, not the Apprentice wanna-be owners. And when Larry starts to get on my nerves and acts like a craphound, I'll show them by drinking watered-down Fenway beer on the job. It will be perfect.