You can never have too many middle infielders, my old little league coach used to say sarcastically when we all raised our hands after he asked “…and whose trying out for shortstop?”
It was still the Cal Ripken era of baseball, and we all believed that by merely appearing in many games in a row, we could become legends of the game. It was flawed logic, sure, and we were children. Children who, age wise, probably should have been on the varsity team, but due to a lack of raw talent, motor skills, and general awareness of things, we had been permitted to join the junior high squad.
Which is essentially what is currently happening to Andres Blanco, except for all the quietly insulting bits.
Yes, the Phillies have another middle infielder’s name to throw into those bursts of answers their forced to generate every time something awful happens. Like, when somebody gets hurt, and no one knows what’s going on, and so the writers all just theoretically state everyone in the organization who plays the position of the wounded fellow.
And that’ll be Andres Blanco, the son of a famed Venezuelan poet and humorist, and a man Ruben Amaro has described as a
“Pretty good defensive middle infielder.”
Which is probably accurate. Look at him up there, middle infielding. If he can do it adequately for the Rangers and Nationals, he can probably do it for the Ironpigs, as long as they don’t heap a bunch of unrealistic offensive fantasies on him for some reason. Though there’s really no reason for that to happen.
And maybe, if this stylish trend of maulings continues up and down the Phillies roster, Blanco will get a shot at suffering through his own Major League injury.
Tags: Andres Blanco