You can wring your hands all you want over whether Jonathan Papelbon served up the wrong pitch to Robert Andino or why Marco Scutaro hesitated just long enough to get gunned down at the plate or why David Ortiz stretched a pivotal single into a costly out or why supposed Gold Glover Carl Crawford couldn't make a shoestring running catch, but it won't change a thing. The Red Sox season wasn't squandered during one compelling night in late September, with all of baseball fixated on one of the most dramatic evenings in the game's long and storied annals.

Boston blew its chance at being "the best team ever" long before Andino delivered the final knockout blow to a staggering Red Sox team that has been punch-drunk for weeks now.

There are a number of glaring reasons the local nine holds the dubious distinction of choking up the biggest September lead in baseball history. The pitching wasn't nearly as good as advertised; in fact, at times, it was downright abysmal. When your staff finishes 28th in the majors in "quality starts," you've earned that distinction. Still, it's not that simple to place all the blame on the underachieving hurlers; during one stretch, after all, the Sox committed 23 errors in 21 games.

Decorated hitters such as Crawford struggled through "slumps" that slowly but surely morphed into "trends." Although the assembled talent was at first glance glittering, when the late-season malaise kicked in and it was time to roll up their Brooks Brothers sleeves and wade into the muck of an everyday slump, far too many of the big-name players turned up their noses and balked.

Dustin Pedroia, the Red Sox's best leader, kept on fighting and imploring his teammates to do the same. Greg Fiume/Getty Images

While the Rays were young, hungry and edgy, the Red Sox were arrogant, complacent and, worst of all, entitled.

They took their baseball gifts for granted, and when those gifts abandoned them, as they almost always do during a long baseball season, they were either too lazy or too cocksure to recognize what was required of them to maintain the consistency that is so vital in baseball.

So they complained about the absence of the designated hitter in interleague play, bemoaned injuries that robbed them of key players, even suggested their schedule was too grueling because they played too many televised night games (Adrian Gonzalez can lay claim to that gem).

Back in the good old days, the Red Sox famously dubbed the Yankees "the Evil Empire" because they were arrogant, complacent and, yes, entitled. When New York failed, it merely outspent everyone else to pluck the best players from free agency and rejigger its lineup.

Somewhere along the way, the Red Sox became what they once abhorred.

Theo Epstein overspent for John Lackey and Crawford because he could. Sox owner John Henry has deep, deep pockets. (Have you caught a glimpse of his new crib in what they call the "leafy" section of Brookline? Leafy, incidentally, is code for obscenely wealthy.)

On paper, the Red Sox looked invincible. We thought they had superior pitching, enough firepower to outslug any other team in baseball, and an infield that promised to be stingy with errors and strong up the middle. The Sox had multiple base stealers (Jacoby Ellsbury, Crawford, Dustin Pedroia).

One of their own pitchers, Josh Beckett, predicted they'd win 100 games.

Instead they imploded, losing 16 of their final 21 games. They lost five of seven to the lowly Baltimore Orioles, who, until they met up with the generous Sox in the final weeks, were on pace to lose 100 games.

People say we make too much of the value of good chemistry and camaraderie. They are wrong; it matters. When things get tough, teams with unified players step up. They rely on guys who believe in leadership and accountability -- and each other -- to turn things around.