Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Angry Ramblings From My Angry Brother

My brother and I don't see eye to eye on all things baseball (or all things, generally), but we've suffered through the lean years together and we can share our frustrations with each other. So even though I'm more likely to blame our failures on Eckstein and Zaun, while he'll focus on VW (come to think of it, maybe he should be Canate's brother), at root we feel the same passion and the same anger.

This is a sampling of the emails I've received over the past couple of weeks (and if anyone has the Kids Help Line number handy, please feel free to send it along):

What a sad and pathetic display of gutlessness this week. Go Hinske.

I just don't know what to think anymore. Harry Leroy below 500, Hinske knocking them in......what the fucking fuck. Seriously.

I’m also flat out depressed about this f*cking team. I can’t believe how quickly they can crush that wonderful early-season optimism. That Red Sox series seems so long ago now…

I just can’t f*cking stand Ricciardi.

My jury was out on Ricciardi’s decision until now. I’m ready to officially proclaim it another boneheaded move.

He's now sent me a "guest post" that I'm quite happy to post, because for the most part I agree with what he says, and it spares me from having to relive last night's nightmare. Here it is - enjoy:

Trade Doc.

There, I said it. Like the proverbial father in a dirt-poor, no-chance town, I’m ready to reluctantly cast away my beloved gifted son. It’s for his own good, I’m sure of it.

Okay maybe there is no such proverb and god knows I have no gifted children, but my point remains. I cannot stand to see our stalwart leader beaten like this, time and time again, by his increasingly worthless and desperately pathetic teammates. No Blue Jay pitcher has lost three consecutive complete games since Jim Motherfucking Clancy did it in 1980. Quite the honour our boys have given their Doc.

The Red Sox didn’t beat Halladay last night. Eight weak and overpaid men (I’ll excuse Scott Rolen from this one) cashing Rogers cheques did. Our newly minted mega-millionaire striking out with a man on in the 6th did. A bush league manager who doesn’t know what a bunt or a manufactured run is did (with apologies to actual bush league, bunt-loving, run-manufacturing managers across the continent). A midget who weakly grounded into an inning ending double play did. And the most overpaid baseball player in the history of time did. A once “gold glove” centre fielder who now approaches the ball much like the lumbering, weak kneed Red Sox DH who cashed in the winning run. To those who’ll point to his near-decapitation (oh for another couple of degrees to the left) of the idiot jig-master on the mound as evidence of his doing something worthwhile, I’m looking at the big picture here okay? I’m so fucking sick of this guy. You want him Texas? He’s all yours. Come on Hicks, think of all the money you saved when A-Rod went to New York! We’ll even pay much of the freight (See Mr. F. Thomas for details).

I give Rolen three more weeks before he goes all Hillenbrand and starts writing motivational messages on the clubhouse board. JP will passionately deny the accusations (before shipping out the latest “clubhouse cancer”), Gibbons will mutter something incomprehensible, most of the players will say something diplomatic and Vernon will shrug silently.

God bless you Harry Leroy the Third. We don’t deserve you.


Razzer said...

Me and Canate have discussed the possibility of trading Vernon, right now, straight up for either Juan Pierre or Gary Matthews. You will save about 70 million in salary and in the case of Pierre, we'll finally have that lead off hitter we need. (that was a joke) Seriously, if he didn't have a stupid ass no trade clause, he would be impossible to trade anyway with out eating a whack of salary. This is year one of 7 more. Fire sale time!

Canate said...

This was a great post. I had written an awesome response, but it apparently did not take. My major point was that Wells has lacked all aggressiveness on d. Maybe that bobbled play woke him up. Maybe.