I was walking down the street this past weekend when I blacked out in the middle of a busy intersection.
“The New York Mets released Castillo on Friday and the Phillies immediately expressed interest.”
–Todd Zolecki, MLB.com
Later, I went to my favorite sandwich shop but everything tasted like ash.
“Luis Castillo has agreed to a Minor League contract with the Phillies, a source said Sunday night.”
And now, just before I sat down in this chair, I glanced out the window and an entire flock of sparrows flew so directly into my neighbor’s sliding glass door that they could have only done it on purpose.
“The fact the Phillies are bringing Castillo into camp shows just how concerned they are about Chase Utley’s right knee.”
I am not looking forward to finding out why biblical verses keep appearing over my bed written in cow’s blood. Hopefully it’s unrelated.
“The Minor League contract certainly suggests the Phillies are not prepared to hand a job to Castillo.”
I’ve included this sentence because I had to read it three times before it didn’t say “…not prepared to give Castillo a handjob.”
So, first things first, Chase Utley must be in an iron lung. Secondly, is Luis Castillo the caliber of infielder who can win a starting position on an division champion team in less than two weeks, after being cut from his former team for eating all of their money/sucking?
Inheriting one of the Mets just feels like an unprovoked purchase of something nobody really wants; like bringing home a vase from a garage sale, only to constantly question whether the spider eggs that were apparently inside it or the Native American curse it brought with it were really worth the $1.25 you paid for a decoration that doesn’t go as well with the decor as you’d hoped.
What I’m saying is, with the agility that’s been chewed off of Castillo’s legs, along with the reasons he’s appeared in the headlines over the past few years (game-ruining, childlike mistakes and being openly repulsed by wounded veterans of war), I don’t think there’s any amount of time long enough to reward Castillo the role–no matter how many of our dashingly handsome starting second basemen get hurt.
So, this time, we can’t just laugh a toxic trade rumor off, like “Ha, ha, ha, good one, Ruben. Like we’d really go out and acquire Jeff Francoeur. Then let’s go out and acquire a rusty nail in my bike tire or pay money for someone to slap the beers out my hands every time I order one or express interest in replacing every individual fiber of my mattress with an aggressive fire ant.”
With any of the capable talent itching for the chance to break through in this camp, you’d think we’d be more likely to give one of them a shot, rather than allow the Luis Castillo Wikipedia page to sprout another paragraph. It was just weeks ago that the man was called into the manager’s office for a talk about behavioral issues… yes; exactly like a kindergartener.
Worse yet, if this truly is the beginning of positive change for the Mets, do we really have to put an exclamation point on it by shoveling their trash into our system? Perhaps the move was made strictly to enrage Chase Utley back to health. The thought of Castillo polluting his territory between first and second in Citizens Bank Park may be enough for Chase to explode out of the trainer’s room and take batting practice with his right knee instead of a bat.