Ruben Amaro Jr. addresses the entire 2013 team in Clearwater this AM: twitter.com/Phillies/statu…
— Phillies (@Phillies) February 16, 2013
After an offseason of forcing pieces to fit where they clearly didn’t, Ruben Amaro was dragged in front of the Phillies this morning in Clearwater and coerced into explaining himself.
The room was rigid with silence as many pairs of eyes stared him down, picturing the moment they first learned Michael Young, a human-sized sack of flesh filled tightly with bone dust, would be their every day third baseman; when it was announced that Delmon Young, a mentally unstable, physically unfit, visually incompetent fielder would be “ideally” playing in the outfield every day, after recovering from an ankle injury to start the season, of course.
Amaro, more accustomed to flippant, condescending responses to reporters or whispering some ambiguous phrase before hurling a smoke bomb at his feet, seemed uncomfortable so exposed and held accountable for his actions.
“I, uh…” he began, grabbing a bottle of water out of Ryne Sandberg’s hands and draining it over the course of two minutes; during the which the room maintained its awkward silence, save the echoing slurps of Amaro and the gasps for air he sucked in between gulps.
“You see, baseball is a complicated ga–”
“What did you mean you ‘don’t care about walks?’” Chase Utley put forth, using his signature “I don’t care if you were already talking” style of talking. Utley, whose desire to get on base makes walks and being hit by a pitch (which he has led the league in three times) a critical part of his game, gripped his water tightly so that Amaro could not take his as well.
“Well, we looked at the data, and the available talent on the market, and we drew up a plan to–”
Amaro, relieved, was cut off then by a horrible scream, as Michael Young had stood up.
“Sorry,” he muttered. ”Sometimes my bones scream. I’m very old, you see.”
Everyone nodded in understanding, turning their eyes back to the general manager.
“Look guys, I know this wasn’t the blockbuster offseason we’ve enjoyed of late. In some cases, we had to get creative and take risks. In other cases, we had to think ahead and form a strategy based on what we’ve already got. In others, we had to strap on a pair of thick rubber gloves and get elbow deep in a toxic trash pit of free agents. No offense, Delmon.”
“Did you do your weigh-in yet, that we created specifically for your contract and that rewards you financially for shedding the pounds that would put you at the very least in the realm of potential athletic competence?’
“Anyway, I just wanted to come down here to let you guys know that yes, things are a little different now, and despite several gaping holes everywhere, we do expect you to win the World Series. Good night, Clearwater!”
Amaro then tried to exit the room waving his arms as if he was receiving raucous applause, but upon reaching the door, discovered it was locked from the other side, and spent several horrible moments trying to jostle it open.
“Hey, did you guys hear any of those jokes that were like ‘The Phillies DID get Young-er after all!’” Amaro exclaimed, trying to cover his impossibly uncomfortable walk to the other side of the room. ”Because we didn’t really get younger, we just… hired two guys… named Young…”
As he reached the exit on the other side of the room, one of Kevin Frandsen’s bats, leaning on his locker, slid to the ground and caused a loud clatter. Amaro leapt in the air and cowered under a table.
“Boy, that was loud, wasn’t it? Ha ha ha ha. We all sure did think that was loud. Some of us probably even thought maybe someone was about to physically struck with a bat from behind, ha ha ha ha.”
After closing the clubhouse door behind him, Amaro could be heard taking several deep, heaving inward breaths on his inhaler.