But there’s good news, everyone! The Red Sox, if you haven’t heard, have lots and lots of money. $95 million spread out over half a decade isn’t all that much in the grand scheme of things to this ball club. In addition to a lucrative farm system that has recently developed some ready-made stars, the Red Sox profit from a massive fanbase and repeated successes to have one of the largest payrolls in baseball, one that rubs shoulders with the luxury tax threshold from time to time. This all might seem like me reciting things you already know in a slightly condescending tone, but I promise I’m going somewhere with this.

Think of all the big, awful contracts the Red Sox have had since the beginning of the decade. Carl Crawford, obviously. Josh Beckett’s extension is a plausible one. Daisuke Matsuzaka’s posting and deal were pretty bad. Hell, if you wanted to be really petty, you could say Julio Lugo’s four-year, $36 million deal was big and terrible due to the player they offered it to, and you’d have some compelling arguments. Looking back on those deals, could you honestly say any one of them crippled the short- or long-term future of the Red Sox? Probably not. Definitely not, if you consider the state of the payroll in 2017.

The Red Sox have effectively recovered from all their major contract screw-ups because they are a factory of money. It gives them a ton of leeway to make these huge deals in the first place. If those transactions don’t pan out, the torrent of cash that flows in allows the Sox to either cut those players and eat the money, or trade them away and still get something of value back, since they’re still paying a large percentage of the contract. Money gives the Red Sox a large margin of error, and the payroll can effectively tank the hit of a couple bad deals.

It isn’t just the exorbitant bidding in free agency that boxes out small-payroll teams – it’s the extreme regression risk that comes with any mega-deal.

This is the benefit of having a luxury-tax-pushing payroll that isn’t discussed very often. The inequality between the Red Sox and a team like the Rays or Athletics usually comes in the form of being able to make those deals. The Red Sox can price out those teams for any given player, if they felt compelled to do so. What isn’t talked about enough is what could happen after that deal is struck. A team like the Sox or Yankees can be saddled with a failure of a mega-deal (see: Ellsbury, Jacoby) and continue to compete and win. For the Rays and A’s, however, a player falling off on a huge deal would utterly cripple their short-term payroll and outlook, and might adversely affect their long-term plans. It isn’t just the exorbitant bidding in free agency that boxes out small-payroll teams, since deferments are a thing – it’s the extreme regression risk that comes with any mega-deal.

Pablo Sandoval would’ve earned an even $17 million this year. The Rays could fit Chris Archer’s, Kevin Kiermaier’s, Wilson Ramos’, and Corey Dickerson’s salaries into that with room to spare. The A’s would have wiggle room if you combined what Jed Lowrie, Yonder Alonso, and Rajai Davis are all getting paid in 2017 and shoved it in there. For those teams, having a player implode with $17 million attached to their name would deny them quite a lot of useful additions and potential trade chips. Now imagine losing out on getting good players on one-year deals – and the potential prospects that you’d receive by trading them – for four more years. That’s catastrophic at best, and a front office house cleaning at worst.

Sometimes, though, even the big payroll teams reach their limit. Burdened with Beckett’s contract extension, Crawford’s albatross contract, and the first year of Adrian Gonzalez’s extension, the Red Sox were hurting for salary relief. In a move that was the polar opposite of the Sandoval deal, Cherington offloaded all three of those contracts (plus Nick Punto) to the Los Angeles Dodgers, and while the prospects they received didn’t amount to much, getting over $250 million of salary off your books is still pretty damn good. The Red Sox were saved from a decade of payroll crunches due to a very shrewd waiver trade in August. They found the limits of the margins their money made for them.

This isn’t something that should be touted, honestly. It’s more of an unspoken benefit, a representation of the disparity in revenue between some of the teams in baseball. That kind of money allows for teams to not just go out and get players they want, but to make mistakes, and quickly recover from them. Sometimes big contracts work, and sometimes they don’t. The difference here is that when they don’t, the Red Sox can deal with it.

My final game in Fenway Park was amazing. The emotions from the first at-bat and a standing ovation to the moment Nick Punto, one of my closest baseball friends, came out to run for me is indescribable. Red Sox fans that day gave me the most amazing sendoff a player could ever ask for because it was not scripted. No speeches or pregame ceremonies were needed. It was just the beauty of a fan base showing theirappreciation and I wish I could’ve shown them more love, but the game had to go on.

Fenway Park, a departing icon, standing ovations, emotions, history, reverence, and, somewhere somehow, Nick Punto.

Punto announced his retirement from baseball on Wednesday, making official what was suspected after he sat out the 2015 season. Because players don’t sit out seasons when they have decent offers on hand, and teams don’t give good offers to players in their late-30s who just sat out a season. But still, Punto is hanging them up, and as such, it’s time to offer a retrospective of what Nick Punto meant to the Boston Red Sox. Here. Let me sum up Nick Punto’s time with the Red Sox as best I can in a single word.

Nothing.

That was the essence of Nick Punto’s contribution to the Red Sox. During his 65 games with Boston, Punto came to bat 148 times. With those chances, Punto amassed a slash line of .200/.301/.272. And yes, before you ask, that slugging percentage really is lower than the on-base percentage. His entire contribution was worth -0.2 WARP. In other words, he actually cost the Red Sox a fifth of a win. As for highlights, well… he had one home run. It came on a 2-0 count in the ninth inning of a game the Red Sox were leading 6-4.  Even his high points almost literally didn’t matter. He was utterly expendable, replaceable, inconsequential.

That’s not to say Punto had an inconsequential career. On the contrary, he played in the majors for almost a decade and a half! Sure he was only worth a total of 5.2 WARP during that time, but a decade-plus in the majors in and of itself, regardless of any measurements or statements of quality, is impressive. So why did he last so long if he wasn’t very good? There are two reasons. The first is his versatility. Punto was the guy you wanted on your team because he could play all over the diamond. During those paltry 65 games with the Red Sox, Punto played every single infield position. He even played shortstop (all of 44 innings!). (Yikes!) He was short, squat, and powerless, but you could put him just about anywhere in the infield and your team wouldn’t automatically lose the game, and that had value that maybe wasn’t captured in his WARP total. That was the first reason then-GM Ben Cherington gave Punto a two-year contract.

The second reason Cherington signed Nick Punto was that he was a great teammate. If you were trying to build a good clubhouse, Punto was a positive step towards that goal. So it was all the more ironic when he was traded to, among many other reasons, improve Boston’s clubhouse chemistry. The 2012 Red Sox were managed by Bobby Valentine. Also, there were clubhouse problems. Those two things may have been related! Come July, the team was struggling and Valentine was awful and some of the players weren’t happy and attempted to go over Valentine’s head to fix the situation. This didn’t work, unless the goal was to make everything worse. If so, then it was a resounding success! But otherwise, nope.

If you were trying to build a good clubhouse, Punto was a positive step towards that goal. So it was all the more ironic when he was traded to, among many other reasons, improve Boston’s clubhouse chemistry.

We go round and round for another month or so with the team not improving on the field or in the clubhouse, and it became clear that something had to be done. What was done was huge. Then-new GM Ben Cherington took a box of dynamite to the roster. It was like a plan conceived by Wile E. Coyote, except this one worked. The end result was one of the biggest trades in team history. Gone were franchise cornerstones Adrian Gonzalez, Carl Crawford, and Josh Beckett to the LA Dodgers. In return, the Dodgers sent the Red Sox young pitchers Allen Webster and Rubby De La Rosa. But most importantly they agreed to pay every penny of the the almost $270 million owed to those three players. $270 million!! And LA took it all! Oh my gosh!

Oh, and they took Nick Punto too.

It was an amazing trade. It completely reset the Red Sox roster, giving the team flexibility they hadn’t dreamed was possible. It allowed them to supplement the roster that coming off-season with a whole bunch of upside plays, nearly every single one of whom was a smashing success, like a David Ortiz World Series at-bat. This led directly to the improbable, cathartic, and just plain fun 2013 World Series win the following season.

All that was amazing, strange, wonderful, but what about Nick Punto? He may have been the strangest, the most bizarre aspect of it. Of Beckett, Crawford, and Gonzalez, all were multi-millionaires on multi-year contracts paying them tens of millions of dollars per season. All were stars, Beckett from the ’07 World Series win with the Red Sox, and before that, the ’03 World Series with the Marlins, both of which wouldn’t have been won without his dominance on the biggest stage. Gonzalez was perhaps the preeminent first baseman in baseball, a player the Red Sox had just traded almost their entire farm system for before bestowing a massive $20+ million-per-season contract on him. He was to be the centerpiece of the Red Sox. Crawford combined superior speed and defense with surprising power. He, along with Gonzalez, was the big, sexy pillar of the new Red Sox.

And Nick Punto who signed for $3 million over two years and was balding and pudgy. He was the coaster hastily shoved under the drink minutes after the fact. He was completely an afterthought.

Ned Colletti [Dodgers GM]: We really want Gonzalez, Ben.
Cherington: You can have him, but like I’ve been telling you for months, you have to take Beckett and Crawford too.
Colletti: You know what? I’ll do it!
Cherington: Great! We’ll have the paperwork drawn up and we’ll notify the commissioner’s office. Talk to you soon [goes to hang up phone]
Colletti: Wait Ben!
Cherington: What?
Colletti: Throw in Pinto too, wouldya?
Cherington: You mean Punto?
Colletti: Yeah, Punto.
Cherington: Uh… sure?
Colletti: Great! Can’t wait to make this official!

It was the biggest trade the Red Sox ever consummated, both in terms of total dollars and in terms of the 180 degree directional change of the franchise that it not only symbolized but engineered. It led directly to the team’s third World Series championship in a decade, a thought that would have been unimaginable in August of 2012. It featured three All Stars, and a local World Series hero. And what do people call it? The Punto Trade. Because of all the significance dripping from the deal, what sticks out perhaps most of all, is Punto’s inclusion. It’s just so… strange, such an afterthought, so utterly inessential, replaceable, inconsequential. And yet, there he is, on a private jet  with Beckett and Gonzalez, a two-time World Series winning ace and perhaps the best first baseman in the league. In a time of great seriousness, here was Nick Punto in this trade, and it was… funny.

#dodgers doing it first class! pic.twitter.com/DRPr2HH7

— Nick Punto (@Shredderpunto) August 25, 2012

In a way, Nick Punto was the great artist who died young and unknown. Decades later his work is discovered tucked away in a dusty attic somewhere and his genius is recognize and appreciated. Nick Punto meant nothing to the Red Sox while he was in Boston. He was by definition replaceable by any run-of-the-mill Triple-A middle infielder. It was only by leaving that he became important. But by going, he became more than important; he came to symbolize the first chapter of the rebirth of a franchise, and the first step towards a World Series win. He took with him the distrust, animus, and backbiting of the Valentine era, and wiped it away with the efficacy of an industrial strength cleanser.

As a player with the Red Sox Nick Punto is meaningless, that is, except for what his name connotes. But it is that very implication that, as far as Boston is concerned, is the most consequential thing he ever did.

Photo by Greg M. Cooper/USA Today Sports Images