I Fought The Trade Deadline And The Deadline Won
Ok, no beating around the bush on this one. The Major League Baseball trade deadline sucks.
What Peter Gammons, Jason Stark, Buster Olney and the rest of the people that report on baseball do on this day should be a fucking crime. It’s 9:00pm, the deadline was over five hours ago and do you know what my heart rate is, still? It’s “I just ran from the fucking cops” high.
When I went to sleep last night, visions of sugar plums and Manny Ramirez danced in my head. Then, I woke up and there were birds singing outside my window. Even after I got to work, there were high hopes that Manny would be in teal and black by the end of my lunch break. And then slowly, but surely, Peter Gammons broke my heart.
Last night, Manny to the Marlins was a strong possibility. This morning, Manny to the Marlins was a sure thing. Then around noon, it became 50/50. And then the deal was dead and nobody knew who to blame. But it wasn’t dead. The teams kept talking and trying to figure out who would get what prospects, how much money would change hands and what type of toilet paper Manny preferred in his future clubhouse. But none of it would get solved and it would ultimately end with Manny heading to LA. It was the same basic deal, just with a different team than the Marlins.
Imagine you’re at a house party and the night has just started. You’re talking up 2 girls who happen to be on their first drink of the night. You make it through all the bullshit conversation that you don’t actually care about anyway, and after two hours and 6 beers you convince these two lovely ladies to partake in a threesome. (What? It was never that easy for you?) They aren’t sure they’re up for it, but the idea seems intriguing. After all, they’re at this party to let loose tonight and have fun, so what the hell? But they still have reservations and it’s taking every line in your arsenal to try and seal this deal.
Now, it’s an hour later, the girls have gone off to get some more beer and you’re thinking your night is set. That is, until you look over and see them talking to some jackass who just happened to hit on them while they were over by the keg. Wait. Now they’re walking away with that jackass. That jackass is leaving wih your girls. That jackass is about to have your threesome! The threesome you just spent all night talking yourself into is now going to the guy who just happened to catch your girls at their drunkest state. Fuck you, jackass guy with impeccable timing!
Well, jackass guy with impeccable timing would be the Dodgers. That was the Marlins threesome and LA just swooped in an stole it. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel that exact same way when you were following the news today.
Six hours ago, I was pumped and ready to write the “Manny in Miami” post. Now? How the hell am I supposed to get excited enough to write a post about Arthur Fucking Rhodes?
In all honesty, the Manny deal was a deceptive one. Adding a power hitter who can’t play defense to a team of power hitters who can’t play defense, doesn’t make much sense. Were the Fish trying to win every game 13-10? But when they didn’t land Pudge — catcher, being the area the Marlins desperately needed help at — they went after the biggest name on the market, and the name sounded better than the reality.
Not making the trade was probably in the best interest of this club. There’s no guarantee that landing Manny means winning a championship. And when it became clear that the Pirates wanted way too many prospects for a rental player, Marlins brass made the right decision and didn’t budge. Instead, they made the smart move to get a lefty reliever in the bullpen. Fans probably feel a little like they were punched in the stomach today, but that feeling will go away. With or without Manny, this is still the team that leads the league in homers and is sitting a game or two out of first place going into August.
As much as I would’ve liked to see Manny trolling left field in Dolphin Stadium, I can live with what the Marlins did today. Plus, I’m too exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions I went through courtesy of the deadline. In the end, though, I think we’ll all be pleasantly surprised with what the Marlins wound up with. Afterall, it’s just Arthur being Arthur.
(Oh, and it’s probably best if you just ignore those t-shirts over at our shop and act like they never happened.)