Whistlin' in the Graveyard

I'm going to resist the temptation to read too much into the Sox' sweep at the hands of the Diamondbacks. Arizona is the defending champ; the Sox were due for a few stinkers; they're playing shorthanded; blah blah blah.

But I can't resist the temptation to babble a bit about the ticking time bomb waiting in the background to blow up this Red Sox season. You know what it is - the sudden iffiness of Pedro Martinez. He had two shaky outings against Detroit and Toronto, then struggled and picked up his first loss of the season Saturday. Is he mortal? You don't want to think about it, but you can't not think about it. Even the normally loquacious and erudite Edward of Bambino's Curse doesn't seem to want to talk about it.

So we'll turn to Globe columnist Bob Ryan, who gets paid to confront stuff like this.

By his lofty standards, Martinez is sharp intermittently, which means he might be completely sharp one game and not the next, or sharp for periods of a game and not so sharp an inning later. Ordinary pitchers are like this all the time. Martinez is new to this. And he doesn't like it.

Neither do we. It's a big adjustment going from immortality to ordinary greatness. When Larry played his last few seasons in near-constant pain, everyone in New England felt his back spasms with him. It was tough watching Michael Jordan struggle with the Wizards this year, and fun watching the formerly-unbeatable Mike Tyson get beaten this weekend. Age catches up with you. So does the strain of Pedro's 180-pound frame throwing blazing heat for years.

Hey, he's still 7-1. He's still holding opponents at a .216 batting average. And he's still better that 90% of the pitchers out there. We shouldn't be worried.

But we are.