He Must Not Want to Play

Maybe it's not about the money, after all.

Manny Ramirez rejected the Dodgers latest 2 year, $45 million offer, which leads me to believe that maybe it's not even about the money at this point.  Maybe Manny Ramirez just has no desire to play.

We're already a couple of weeks into spring training.  Games are going on.  And while Manny Ramirez could easily walk in off the street and play opening day and be effective, maybe he just has no itch or desire to play after all.

He and agent Scott Boras continue to claim there are other suitors for his services and he's still waiting for the market to decide his fate.  Unless I'm missing something, there are no other suitors.  The Giants had mild interest but pulled out of the running a while ago.  There is no market for one of the game's greatest hitters and it's because teams are hesitant to pay a lazy jerk with a history of laying down. 

Isn't this pretty clear by now?

"We want Manny back, but we feel we are negotiating against ourselves,"  Dodgers owner Frank McCourt told reporters in a statement.  "When his agent finds those 'serious offers'  from other clubs, we'll be happy to restart the negotiations."

McCourt knows what everyone else knows.  There are no suitors.  They're throwing him a bone, by offering him $45 million when they don't have to offer him any more than fifty cents to be the highest bidder.  But since this prima dona wants to be paid $25 million a year, likely against their better judgment, they've offered it to him anyway.

And he still won't take it.  He must not want to play.

What else could it be?  He wanted out of Boston, played out of his mind in L.A. from August to the National League Championship Series presumably to break the bank.  He wanted a 4-year deal worth $100 million.  He couldn't get it.  And now that he's seen that there's no market for him because of his own doing, maybe he's decided he just doesn't need baseball anymore.

It's not like there hasn't been a love-fest from the players and manager Joe Torre in an effort to entice him to return.  After all, the Dodgers have already publicly admitted they need him, and without him they're considerably worse.  Considering they are in competition with no one and they're still willing to offer him nearly half his original asking price should be a sufficient message of respect.  And he was a mega-star in Hollywood last season.  Every time he strode to the plate they chanted his name at Dodger Stadium.  Trust me, I witnessed it live.

So if he won't go back to the Dodgers, when they're offering him $25 million for this season and $20 million for next season to play baseball in a depressed economy, it must be a lack of motivation.  At this point, he must know he cannot get the contract he desires.  And if he cared so much about returning to baseball, he'd take this deal and head to the locker already reserved for him at the Dodgers new spring training home in Glendale.  

Instead, he's still sitting at home.  And it makes me think maybe he's just tired of baseball.

Much Ado About Nothing: The Yankee Years

The buzz, in early February, was all over Joe Torre's new book.  Co-written (read:  written) by Tom Verducci, the book was talked about all over the place, with leaks from different sections of the book securing its description as a "tell-all".

Torre found himself discussing the book just about everywhere.  Sirius Radio, WFAN in New York, ESPN.  Even on Larry King Live.

Every few days leading up to the February 3rd release of the book, new leaks would come out.

Teammates called Alex Rodriguez A-Fraud, Johnny Damon may not have been as good of a teammate as people think, problems with Kevin Brown and Carl Pavano.

It seemed to have all the markings of a juicy, insider's look at one of the most popular franchises during one of its most successful runs in team history.  I was excited. 

Then, I read it.

After over 470 pages, I was left feeling like I'd just seen any Eddie Murphy movie that has come out in the past 15 years.  The previews look great, you think you've got a winner, and once you're leaving the theater, you realize you've seen all the good parts in the preview, and the movie was otherwise lacking.

Not much difference here.

Verducci takes the reader through the 12 "yankee years" of Joe Torre, an interesting look (albeit protracted) at the changes that took place not only in the Yankee clubhouse but also throughout baseball.  Interesting, but not revealing.  Anyone following baseball or having read Moneyball at some point is at least vaguely familiar with the newfound obsession by baseball executives with statistical analysis, niche finding, and market exploitation to compete with the high spenders of the major leagues.  

This is where the book finds its demise.  As a concept, the "changes in baseball" idea isn't that original.  It's been done, several times over.  Not to mention that unless you were a Yankees fan, you wouldn't really care too much about what was going on inside their clubhouse at the time.  But, if you were a Yankee fan, the things you were reading about were pretty much common knowledge.

For instance, no one actually told me that players resented Kyle Farnsworth, Kevin Brown, and Carl Pavano.  But, I think I could've figured that one out of my own.  Did I know for a fact that Randy Johnson's struggles were linked to the pressures of NYC?  No, but pushing away a camera guy on his first day pretty much told me all I needed to know at the time.

There were some interesting stories, though.  One that sticks with me found George Steinbrenner walking through the clubhouse during spring training some years back.  Allen Watson, a mediocre middle reliever for the Yankees, was horsing around and tossed a bagel at a clubhouse attendant.  The errant throw hit Steinbrenner, who demanded to know who had perpetrated the crime.  Watson sheepishly admitted it was him, to which The Boss said, "I thought it was you, Watson, that's why it didn't hurt."

General overview:  Torre felt betrayed by the way the Yankees handled his final few years, the Yankees relied too much on statistics and big free agent signings post 2000, and made a ton of free agent pitching mistakes (not the least of which was Kei Igawa, who bullpen catcher Mike Borzello goes on record as saying he knew was terrible after catching only one session with him in his first February with the team).

Not too shocking.

Say It Ain't So Joe

The only question I have is, why?

Why now?  Why ever?  Did you need the money?  Did you find yourself lacking that hot, white New York spotlight?

What is the motivation for writing this book, especially now, only a year removed from your glorious run (and not-so-glorious ending) with the Yankees?

Torre can't need the dough, lord knows he does enough State Farm crap to pay for food for his family.  Coaching in LA isn't like New York, but it's close.  

As a Yankee fan and pseudo-journalist, I will say I'm legitimately intrigued by the contents of the book.  Johnny Damon a bad teammate?  Secret meetings with Carl Pavano and Randy Johnson?  It's certainly filled with intrigue.  As a future reader, the only worry I have is that, like so many Jim Carrey films, the book has already told me all the good parts in the preview.

What has to bother both fans of and those involved in the Yankees organization is that for years, Torre's big thing was the confidentiality of the locker room.  It was a safe space, and he never spoke bad about players.  Torre would go to bat for all of "his guys", no matter what.  Now, just a year later, he's out dishing dirt on seemingly all of them.

Which is the real Joe Torre?  The lovable one from his days with the Yankees, playing the role of the grandfatherly star/ego handler, or the seeming traitor behind "The Yankee Years".  Time will tell.