Miggy for Manny? I like it. Anything to get Manny Ramirez away from the Red Sox.
For years now, I've been a bandwagon Red Sox fan. However, it's not because of the Series run, or the subsequent media bonanza, but because of my "chowd by DNA" girlfriend. That's right, I'm chowdy-whipped. I'm man enough to admit it. I have been lucky enough for the last six years to have a lovely gal by my side who happens to be a lifelong fan of two of the most successful franchises over the last half-decade, the Boston Red Sox and the New England Patriots.
Because of this, coupled with my compulsive zealotry for all things baseball, I've had to endure the phenomenon/circus freak that is Manny Ramirez. Again, I'll reassert: Manny Ramirez is not a baseball player.
Manny is an absolute mashing savante. Manny gives pitchers night sweats. His mere presence in a batting order changes the course of any game. Manny puts screaming fans is overpriced seats. Manny is a compelling sports figure. Manny is many things, but Manny is not a baseball player. Baseball players hit, run, throw, field, know the game, and live and die to win ball games.
Manny Ramirez is an absolute terror inside the batters' box, but an absolute liability anywhere outside of it. Offensively, he barely runs hard and nowhere close to fast, and is completely out of his element on the basepaths. If he does muster up the gumption to stretch a rope down the third baseline into a double, he looks like a guy who's just realized he landed some faraway planet, and is surrounded by little green men. He looks around, blinking and bewildered. He takes a tentative step, then retreats. He kicks the dirt. He squints at the scoreboard, and prays to God that nothing will happen that requires quick thinking on his part. Defensively, he is an even greater liability. Day after day, he slips on his Blackberry shades, straps on his roller skates, and lopes/skids around in the corner in front of the Monster, trying to fool us into thinking he's playing left field. Fly balls pop out of his glove. He trips over his own feet going after a shot to the wall, or does some sort of slidey-scoot in the general direction of anything that requires more than 10 feet of lateral movement. He cuts off throws from other outfielders. And, last but not least, there was the infamous "Donde Esta y Bano" incident, slipping through a door in the Monster to "take a little break" during a pitching change.
Reports are mixed on his value as a teammate. He doesn't play hard, he openly consorts with rival teammates and routinely asks to be traded, but his teammates always seem to be behind him, always quick with the "it's just Manny being Manny" party line quip. I suppose he is good for comic relief in a clubhouse, and he's a generally easygoing and likeable guy. But is that a good teammate? Isn't the mark of a good teammate whether he makes the team as a whole better or worse? Yes, his hitting numbers are gaudy and consistent, which obviously is an asset to the team. But the intangibles are what make a good teammate, and Manny Ramirez's assets are singularly tangible. Stats, and only stats. On a supposedly "blue collar" team like the Red Sox (although they have the second-highest payroll in baseball), that has survived and finally won a ring by following a credo of hard work and team play, a one-dimensional player like Manny Ramirez is ultimately a liability, not an asset.
Manny Ramirez is a hitter, and only a hitter. Not a teammate, not a gamer, not an asset. And definitely not a baseball player.