ST. LOUIS - It is a fine day to be an idiot. To be simple of mind and pure of intent. To have neither couth, nor a firm grasp of what that means.
For the idiots, you see, have landed. They have conquered the staid and are about to eliminate the conventional.
The idiots of Beantown are a victory away from ruling the baseball world.
Understand, this is a compliment. A self-imposed description. First baseman Kevin Millar declared these Red Sox to be idiots, and centerfielder Johnny Damon made sure the rest of the clubhouse would be in agreement.
And now that the Red Sox are a game away from sweeping the Cardinals in the World Series, the design of their idiocy is clear.
In a way, it even makes sense.
Decade upon decade, Boston has been held hostage by the weight of baseball's greatest burden. And it is about to be set free by 25 guys who are too carefree to fret and too goofy to know better.
"Oh, it's a legit description. These guys are all loose cannons," said outfielder Dave Roberts. "But in a way, this team is a perfect complement to the city. Guys have to have that mentality because in Boston, expectations are so great and so intense, you need to be easy going to combat the pressure."
They dress like no other team. Frumpy, messy and without great care. They behave the way other teams could only dream. Silly, happily and with amazing camaraderie. Their lockers are plastered with insults, a few obscene, and always directed at each other.
They are, you might have noticed, a travelling cosmetology convention. You have Damon's shoulder-length locks, you have Jason Varitek's Sgt. Carter 'do. You have Bronson Arroyo's cornrows and you have several different shades of bottled colors. And you have Manny Ramirez, whose wayward follicles defy description.
"Johnny has the best hair, by far. If everybody had hair like Johnny, they'd grow it long too," Arroyo said. "I can remember when he came to spring training. Millar came running into the lunch room laughing, saying we had to come out and look at Johnny. He showed up looking like the Wolfman."
That wasn't where it began, but it certainly had an impact. You see, Boston never had a reputation for being the happiest of homes for ballplayers.
The clubhouse, through the years, was famous for its cliques. This was the place African-American players wanted to avoid. This was the franchise that gave birth to the idea of 25 cabs for 25 players.
"My first day in the Red Sox clubhouse, it was weird. No one was playing cards, no one was playing video games," said Damon, who arrived in 2002. "No was really talking to each other."
It was Millar who brought about the greatest change. Acquired from the Marlins in 2003, he immediately shook up the clubhouse with his levity.
"A smart aleck," manager Terry Francona called him.
Millar sparked the Red Sox last season when he returned from a road trip and, in a pique of frustration, had his head shaved. He came up with the "Cowboy Up" motto that the 2003 team embraced as a rally cry.
"When he doesn't play, he says things that make me laugh when I don't want to laugh," Francona said. "You'll hear that voice down at the end of the dugout and it's hard not to laugh."
In the Boston clubhouse, rules are not to be taken literally. They're more like suggestions. Or guidelines.
There was a time when it appeared Francona would not be able to control this crew. That the idiots were running the asylum.
In the season opener, Pedro Martinez left the stadium before the game was over. Francona's explanation - that it wasn't Pedro's fault because the rules had not been made clear - sounded like a boss afraid of his employees.
As it turned out, Francona's style meshed with the Sox. If he provided a little freedom, they would provide the rest.
"Management has let us do our thing," Arroyo said. "Just as long as we play well."
So the Red Sox have thrived. They have played hard on the field and just as hard in the clubhouse. When they were buried by the Yankees in the first three games of the American League Championship Series, they were too loony to realize their season should have been done.
And now they are a victory away from showing the rest of baseball that you don't need to wear pinstripes to look sharp.
"We try to eliminate the thinking and let our natural abilities take over," Damon said. "That's why the phrase about the idiots took off. If we use our brains, we're only hurting the team."
