Ruben Amaro, typing on his Blackberry, sits at a conference room table with Scott Proefrock, Scott Boras, and Jonathan Papelbon.
Proefrock: “…all right, I think we have a deal.”
Papelbon, smiling like a gremlin, whispers something in Boras’ ear and snickers audibly. Boras unquestioningly turns back to the curious Proefrock.
Boras: “My client would like an extra $58 added to his cotnract.”
Proefrock: “W… Why?”
Boras again consults with his client.
Boras: “You know. As a joke. Its funny.”
Proefrock opens his mouth to speak, squinting in confusion, then leans toward Amaro, who, tapping away on his Blackberry, just waves off the incoming query. Proefrock turns back to Boras and Papelbon.
Proefrock: “Yeah, whatever.”
Amaro pulls a briefcase full of money from nowhere, slides it onto the table, and leaves the room.
The Jonathan Papelbon Era has begun in Philadelphia, just many other eras have begun before it: With the snap of cameras, the carefully worded objectives of the new player, and Ruben Amaro not very far away, smuggening himself silly.
And we sit here and watch as another player walks into our corsshairs, unsure of who he is and what he wants. Some would say Papelbon is a dried up hand wrag draped over a rusty faucet and he’s only here to pad his stats hard enough to get into Cooperstown. Others would say WOW NEATO ANOTHER GOOD PLAYER COMES TO PHILADELPHIA HEY LOOK TERRA NOVA IS ON LATER.
Personally, I think both of those may be relatively extremist, but the point is, we’re the ones who’ve got to look at this guy for the next 17 or whatever ungodly number of years he was signed for. Fortunately, Papelbon doesn’t appear to be either, and is just one of those likable pro athletes who forms alter egos that they’ll openly talk about in the third person with the media.
So let’s hear what we’re in for from a reliable source: Other places from the internet.
He’s mentally tough and some would argue it’s because he’s a tad crazy. The whole split personality thing “Cinco Ocho” yeah, it gets old quick.
One of the best closers in the game. For seven years in Boston he was brilliant, 2010 aside. But he rebounded from a down year to be one of the best.
Could be fun to watch him and the Philadelphia fans if he struggles early.
Good luck to you and we’ll see you in June you selfish toad. [EDITOR'S NOTE: Derek is referring to Papelbon as a "selfish toad" here, not me. I think. Whichever is the case, he is probably correct, though with my awkward height and lack of motor skills I'd say "selfish giraffe" would be more accurate.]
And he seems totally comfortable enough with the situation to start threatening already beloved players.
“Basically, I told my agents to tell Bastardo to give me the number or Cinco Ocho was going to kill him.”
Ha ha, okay there, buddy. Let’s just… let’s all just take this a little slower. Chance are Tony Bastard hangs out with all the people you know who could be hired to kill someone. They were probably all at the same barbecue when you called.
So, what we conclude at the moment is my weariness toward this situation didn’t subside over the weekend.