He saw the dead-eyed orphans calculating hashtag trends around the clock; the swampish labyrinth in which detected spambots are imprisoned for all eternity; and the slowly-turning Tweet-Wheel from which the voices of millions are churned out, 140 characters at a time, endlessly cranked by whichever orphan’s turn it is to see daylight.
Why, he even met President Twitter, who looks like Rich Uncle Pennybags from Monopoly, only his suit is noticeably ripped in a few key areas, his voice is stained by an abrasive cockney tone, his office his full of empty tuna cans, and any attempt to communicate with him beyond a brief, passing thought results in his eyes glazing over and his attention drifting away like cremated ashes in the ocean’s waves.
He had a good time.
Don’t act like you haven’t been worried about J.C. Romero. We put on brave faces when he departed, but the truth was we could hardly bare it as wandered off into the cold, looking woefully over his shoulder as we slowly shut the door on his Philadelphia career. Where would he go? What would he do? Are there power struggles in any of the local stray dog packs that he could use to gain power on the streets?
Well, he’s gone where most Phillies have gone when they’re lost–your Bruntletts, your Costes, your Stairses and Werths–and has been ushered into the warm embrace of the Washington Nationals.
The biggest question, as we all can recognize, is “Can he fill the void left by Jim Riggleman’s sudden departure?” And the answer is no, because J.C. Romero is a relief pitcher, and Jim Riggleman was a manager. The Nationals will likely turn to Davey Johnson, their new manager, to fill the manager’s role.
I’m sure J.C. will look just fine in his new uniform, or at least similar to every other Phillie whose donned it–confused, distant, and with a thin layer of glaze over his eyes as he realizes the only time he will see the peak of his playing career now will be if he looks behind him.
The Braves are inheriting Phillies in their own special way, which is to say that they are inheriting our ideas, rather than anything tangible, like a player. And before you start complaining that sentence made no sense or was written really poorly, keep in mind that I don’t even read these things I’m typing on here most of the time. So I’ll never know how bad that transition was.
The idea in question is “firing the hitting coach to fix the offense.” David Hale just said–like 10 minutes ago–that “The truth is, the hitting coach has very, very, very little impact on the team.” So if the Braves want to fire Lance Parrish, then sit back, nod approvingly, and eat a self-satisfaction sandwich, they should go ahead. It just may not fix a whole lot.
Then again they have that best pitching staff in baseball to fall back on.
But these arguments are contingent upon the Mets having no chance of winning the World Series this year. And as crazy as it sounds, the Mets can win the World Series this year.
–Tony Manfred, Business Insider
Maybe… maybe just stick to business, Business Insider.
At least the Mets could sign Prince Fielder to play right field!