In this extremely recent Phils-Nats rivalry, we all appear as little children. But Jayson Werth stepped in yesterday and sort of took things to a new level.
Like kids in the schoolyard, barking at each other, hurling insults and 93 mph fastballs into each other’s spines, we danced about, accusing each other of things at different levels of seriousness. And then Jayson stepped in–silent, media blackout, “You’ll-never-know-me,” is-his-beard-a-shield-from-emotions, Jayson Werth. And he dropped this bomb.
“After walking off the field feeling nauseous knowing my wrist was broke and hearing Philly fans yelling ‘You deserve it,’ and, ‘That’s what you get,’ I am motivated to get back quickly and see to it personally those people never walk down Broad Street in celebration again.”
Which is akin to the weird quiet kid in class who grew facial hair before everybody else wandering into the group argument and screaming “I’M GONNA BURN DOWN ALL YOUR HOUSES!!”
Do they still have ‘schoolyards?’ Or do they just keep children in behavioral modification tubes?
Anyways, this whole series was teetering on the edge of ridiculous before Werth’s statement, but now we’re on some bizarre, cartoonish level where even Jim Leyland feels obligated to say something.
Wasn’t it nice when Jayson was the former player we smile shyly about and go, “Aw, shucks, J-Dub,” and begrudgingly clap for, but then boo when he got a hit, and he and we both knew it was all in good fun? Remember when he tipped his cap in the first game back? That was adorable. Tears in my eyes. Now he’s making supervillain threats from an operating room.
And I can’t believe he became so upset at these fans who cheered for his broken wrist that he’d break the cone of silence he wears on his head to make a broad, sweeping threat like single-handedly stopping the Phils (and Flyers, Eagles, and Sixers I guess? Unless they would have their hypothetical parades elsewhere) from having a parade down Broad Street.
That he did, I think, means we can all go home now. Because what would happen on the schoolyard is we’d all stand there awkwardly, digesting what the kid just screamed, look at each other, and slowly disperse. Maybe somebody would call the guidance counselor. Or the cops. Or the behavioral modification tube repairman.
But we all know damn well there is a part of this fan base that is just a hot dripping mess of human garbage juice that feels the need to make their brain dead opinions known louder than the rest of us. And, because everybody wants to be able to have their own “THIS PHILLIES FAN DID THIS TO ME OR SOMEONE NEAR ME” story, all it takes is a whiff of bad breath for other fans or the media to jump on all of us. Every fan base has them, but thanks to cliche-fueled stigmas, stories on our dumbest-ass fans come with that added note of glee in the foreign reporter’s tone.
I guess I thought Jayson knew better than to blame all of us for the blithering bullshit that can come out of some of our more gutless, stupid, and inbred fans’ mouths. But if he wants to use it as motivation to… encase Broad Street in a giant bubble and laugh manically from the deck of his Flying Beard of War or something, then.. all right, dude. You’re still on the 2008 DVD retrospective. I’ll still remember you fondly. And I’d hate to blame you for an emotional outburst within years of mostly stoic, bearded silence.
But I guess this message would be hard to get to him, since I’m not drunk and screaming at him from the outfield bleachers.