I wasn't planning on writing tonight. Normally on a dance night, I am too tired when I get home to write, and my feet hurt. Given my current state of mind I probably ought to just padlock the fridge and go to bed, but I'll give it my best shot - and am not responsible for typos, misspellings, poor grammar, or for swearing!
So I get home, and am told by a certain friend that I will spending my day tomorrow shopping. I don't want to face the crowds who are starting to froth at the mouth, and I certainly don't want to have to hear Xmas music all friggin' day. I can't tell you how much I hate hearing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer by Gene Autry. Jingle Bells is another one that annoys the hell out of me, but I'll do my best at not screaming when the music loop has assaulted me two or three times.
The ironic thing about me and Xmas music is that a few years ago I started selling a Xmas CD of R&B Xmas songs, and I have been burning CD's to fill some orders. While I'm doing this I'm listening to MLB network to see what Ruben didn't do today and I hear that the Yankees have offered Cliff Lee $140,000,000 to play in the Bronx. That one didn't make me crazy since when I heard of that offer I hadn't learned of the cruel fate that awaited me tomorrow.
When I heard that the Red Sox had signed Carl Crawford for a gazillion dollars, euro's, pound sterlings, or whatever I lost it. Carl Crawford is a very nice player, and he would have looked real good in candystripes, but he isn't anywhere near deserving to be the highest paid player in baseball. He just isn't!
In the past 36 hours, the Red Sox have committed to pay over $300,000,000 to 3 players. Sox management has definitely jumped all in, and the gang in the Bronx must be soiling their shorts thinking of how much more they are going to pony up for Cliff Lee. If I'm Lee's agent I've already called Hank Steinbrenner to ask him what it was he didn't like about a 7th year.
I just heard that Crawford is the now the highest paid outfielder in MLB history. That is so sick.
Back to the Bronx. The Yankees have to know that if they don't get Lee, they are truly in deep doo-doo. Are they wondering why they just spent what they did to bring back an aging shortstop and a 41 year old closer who might start losing some of his magic because of age. The joy of the stress in the Bronx almost mitigates tomorrows agony. I said almost.
The whole thing is getting out of hand - it really is. I mean I just heard Clint Hurdle (or whoever is the new Pirate manager) say that he is excited about the core players he has, and that they plan to be creative so they can be competitive. Who the hell is he kidding? The core players will be gone before the trade deadline, the team will finish 103 games out of first and will have an average attendance of about 1,534. Or, how would you like to be Joe Madden, having to watch every good player on the Rays being allowed to leave? He is already reserving tee times for late August when he figures he'll be fired because the team is 12 - 74.
All this started because the schmuck in Washington decided to grossly overpay Werth. Crawford and Lee and Gonzalez and a few others need to put Werth on their Xmas card list. The guy who will need to really thank Werth is Pujoils. He must be laughing his ass off, because if Werth merits $126, and Crawford does the $140 thing, then he knows that his number will be large enough to fund NASA.
The Cardinal brass must be on life support by now, because they have no clue how they are going to pay Puljois. They don't have the beer money to tap into anymore, and while Puljos (maybe I can spell his name right and choose not to) might give the Cards a hometown discount, he'll still rightfully be able to demand a contract that would make him the highest paid player ever.
I've normally been ambievelent about the Cards, although I showed the proper Philadelphia hate towards Drew and Rolen. St Louis, however is not one of my favorite stops. There is no way I could ever feel good about a city that allows both Bob Costas and Joe Buck to call it home.
Now, as I write, Ruben Amaro is sitting in his hotel room muttering obscenities under his breath. If Ruben drinks he is probably shit faced, and plans to stay that way until his wife makes him check into rehab.
He is running out of decent players to try and get to play RF, and the issues with the pen are still hanging over his head. Ordonez is still available, but Ruben doesn't have the kind of money to pay him to leave Detroit (but the Angels do!). Even Francoeur got a one year deal with KC at a price Ruben can pay. (Now starting in RF for your NL East Champion Phillies is Ross Gload/Ben Francisco) Amaro is probably afraid that people will start throwing stuff at him, even though he doesn't decide how much to spend. He'll take the heat. Shit, he's probably so desperate that he started scouting the reenactors.
If I just landed at PHL from another planet and the first thing I did was to turn on Sports Center I wouldn't believe you when you told me that the country was in the throes of the worst economic slump since the Great Depression. How could I? Baseball mirrors the society in general in that the rich keep getting richer, while the rest of us fight for the crumbs. At some point the whole thing will collapse like the house of cards that it is, but until then LET"S PLAY BALL ALREADY!
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