A quick review of the Red Sox’ weekend: 

On Friday, Bobby Valentine said his team had the worst September roster ever assembled. 

Prior to Sunday’s game, he clarified those remarks to suggest they had been erroneously interpreted -- that he was slighting no one in the organization but instead simply observing that it was a roster that was unusually short on depth due to injuries and the continued presence of Triple-A Pawtucket in the playoffs. 

Later on Sunday, Valentine pinch-hit for Jose Iglesias with a 2-2 count and two outs in a 0-0 game in what he described as an effort to win the game. Yet by having a cold batter step to the plate with a two-strike count, a compelling case can be made that Valentine did little to nothing to increase the likelihood of a meaningless victory while also diminishing the opportunity to evaluate a young player with the game on the line. 

“There’s a risk/reward there. The risk is negligible; the reward is a win,” Valentine told Tim Britton of the Providence Journal. “He gets a hit there, that’s going to propel him?”

And, oh, by the way, the Red Sox won two of three games against the Blue Jays. 

This has become the daily existence of the Red Sox as they play out the string. Every decision Valentine makes, every utterance, every laugh (Was it a chuckle or a cackle? Cutting or well-meaning?) is subject to interpretation. It’s an ongoing soap opera, and for players it is an immensely challenging phenomenon. 

Al Leiter, now an analyst for the YES Network, lived through it when he pitched under Valentine with the Mets from 1998-2002. New York enjoyed plenty of success during that run, including an NLCS berth in 1999 and a trip to the World Series in 2000. 

Yet in the 2012 version of Valentine and the Red Sox, Leiter sees more of the 2002 Mets team that represented Valentine’s last managerial gig in Major League Baseball for 10 seasons, prior to his being put in charge of the Red Sox last December. Leiter recalled the walls of the clubhouse closing in when he was with the Mets, in a fashion that did not permit the players to perform at their top level. 

“Anytime that a player has to answer to things that don't relate to that player's job and the tasks that he's trying to perform on the field and there's the exterior stuff, it doesn't enable a guy to focus the way he should to be the best you can be. It's not a good thing,” Leiter said last week. “[Players try to] ignore it. 

“But then you have a cold, bitter clubhouse, because [members of the media] are trying to find answers, and [players] are trying to hide, because they know what the eventual questions are going to be. After you ask about that night's game, the hanging slider for a double down the line, then it's, 'What do you think?' Even if their answers are no comment, or whatever it is to not get in trouble, it's still there. They know they can't [comment honestly] because it's a hot-button topic.”

In retrospect, Leiter seemed somewhat surprised that Valentine and the Mets were able to enjoy as much success as they did in the market they played. Valentine, Leiter noted, is not one for canned responses. In one sense, the fact that he will provide answers that are not rolled off the assembly line is fascinating. 

“When [reporters] ask something, somebody hits the play button -- 'I just want to help the team, I did my best, I gave 100 percent.' It's all guarded crap,” Leiter said. “Give me something good.”

Yet there is a fine line with something other than those canned responses, given their potential to raise more questions than provide answers. The consequences of a bizarre or eyebrow-raising remark are amplified and accelerated now, in comparison with what the Mets faced 10 years ago, thanks to new mechanisms for the consumption and distribution of information. 

“Not just for him, but for people who are creative, who aren't guarded, who aren't careful with being themselves -- [the impact of social media] applies to anybody in a position that potentially has a microphone put in front of their face. Bobby's one of them,” Leiter said. “And then it becomes, 'Wow, that was a little odd.'

“Cities like Boston, New York, Philadelphia, that have a number of media outlets, it probably would be better to have someone who a) knows what they're doing as a manager but b) is less inclined to put their foot in their mouth. 

“We can brainstorm on the most benign media coverage of a major sport. I'm sure managers and coaches in those cities can say a lot of dumb stuff and it barely gets to ESPN. [In these cities], it becomes a big deal because people are passionate.” 

Leiter said that Valentine fit in New York while the team won. From 1997-2001, the Mets had five straight winning seasons under the controversial manager, four with at least 88 wins and the aforementioned two postseason appearances. 

“You win, there's less B.S. If you're winning, the numbers are right for most of the guys in the clubhouse, so guys are happy,” Leiter said.  

But when the Mets ran off the rails in a 75-86 season in 2002, the balancing act no longer worked. Players could no longer brush off the controversies surrounding Valentine. 

“You're losing, so it's already depressing. You know it's all negative talk, so you've got to turn the radio off. You can't listen to the radio, you can't read the paper, because you know it can't be any good. You're 16 1/2 games back,” said Leiter. “This is a team that underperformed. I'm pissed off. 

“Getting to that place, getting to that space, getting that clear mind -- it's not easy.”

That’s true not just of the players but, perhaps, of Valentine himself. As Leiter noted, the manager entered into a charged environment. 

Because the Sox stumbled early, spent the first half of the year rushing to play catch-up and saw their competitive ambitions (and roster) disintegrate in the second half, Valentine -- like his players -- has seemed uneasy for the entire season. 

“He hasn't been able to be himself because of how everything started,” the ex-pitcher said. “Watching from afar, the injuries, how that played out, the start of the year, chicken-gate, beer coming out of the clubhouse ... just a rough year.”

Even as the season enters its final weeks, there is no apparent reprieve for anyone in a Red Sox uniform.