This is the first year I’ve monitored the Phils’ offseason moves under a microscope, and it’s interesting how the Phillies aren’t the focus anymore. Ruben’s really become the protagonist of the Phillies’ narrative this winter, and though we’ll have to wait until spring to see just how his shoot-first-ask-questions-never style truly pays off, it’s clear the media won’t hesitate to cover his every move.
He and Benny Looper are showing up in Reading, PA at the Double-A Phils’ ballpark for drinks, dancing, the crowning of the “King of Baseballtown,” and possibly to interrogate members of the wait staff as to what action should be taking to resolve some of these gosh darn bullpen issues.
I was near the Left Field Gate in CBP this past summer when the only man in the world still wearing a Mets hat walked by and people began adding insult and swearing and beer to injury. Someone mentioned how it was especially funny that Pedro pitched for the Phillies now, because he used to pitch for the Mets. Yeah, I mean… that’s kind of funny.
“You know what? You can have him!” the Mets fan shouted back.
As if being overweight and wearing inappropriately short shorts were the qualifications needed to move professional baseball players from team to team.
“There’s no truth to it. There are no discussions going on (regarding Martinez).” -Mets Official.
The way the Daily News describes it, the Mets just want somebody whose last name will sell a few jerseys at this point. And they’ll be lucky to get one… the Mets have been labeled as a black hole of baseball, with no players wanting to join in the fun of playing in a toxic, injury-riddled environment.
“We find that label both offensive and derogatory,” said black holes.
So I guess they’re less like a black hole and more like a derelict space ship that an elite team of commandos and scientists has been sent to to investigate what went wrong but OH NO THERE’S BLOODTHIRSTY ALIEN PARASITES ONBOARD ABORT ABORT ABORT.
And finally, because it was all I talked about yesterday, except for some surprisingly hatemail-inducing possum-bashing, I’m going to talk about Roy Halladay. Toronto’s National Post had an article blaming past and former GMs, Blue Jays brass, Roy himself, and the water fountain in section 113 for a lack of victory parades through Toronto’s city streets in recent years. Which they have every right to do. When your city seems to be allergic to winning, it is every fan’s right to hold people and/or things accountable.
So when one of these people and/or things reaches out with, say, a full page ad, it can catch you off guard in a bittersweet way. Roy’s a good guy. Can you imagine Scott Rolen taking out an ad days before he jetted off to wherever he went (I can’t remember and I don’t feel like looking it up. St. Louis? I think? I know he wound up in Toronto).
The first image that comes to mind is ‘ol Scotty standing in the middle of the Vet with two middle fingers in the air and “SO LONG, FUCKERS!” written in the infield dirt.
Class: Hard to find, but good to know you’ve got it.