Ask Too Soxy: Daniel Bard, Manny and how awesome I am
I am having a bad day.
No. You know what? Let me capitalize that.
I am having a BAD DAY.
So, I’m turning to the one thing guaranteed to put a smile on my face and a skip in my step (provided there are no more icy stairs. Skips in one’s steps leaves one vulnerable to really dramatic backflip falls, I hear): Your letters.
In today’s edition of Ask Too Soxy, we first hear from Ryan. Okay. So, that’s not his e-mail signature. But I’ve decided it’s less vulgar to just make up a nondescript name.
Dear Too Soxy (I added the “dear.” I always add the “dear.” Guys, when you e-mail me, could you add in your own “dear?” Thanks.)
How does it feel to vomit your season?
Sincerely (added that too),
Hi, “Ryan.” First of all, let me tell you I appreciate your twitteresque efficiency when it come to the written word. Most people must utilize several lines of text before revealing themselves as jackasses devoid of constructive thought, a feat you alone can accomplish in eight words. Bravo! And using the word “vomit” instead of its lesser urban descriptors (barf, puke, etc) definitely showcases your post-10th grade education. So kudos to you! No toothbrush toilet scrubbing for “Ryan!” I didn’t realize they had Internet access at your temporary-just-until-your-screenplay-about-frogs-takes-off job at the Mini-Mart. And your generalizations! I applaud you on your ability (one shared by several, mind you- a fact I must point out so that you don’t think I’m applauding any creativity) to lump an entire season into a one-month Soxsplosion. That must be very freeing. Like that time you were canned from Taco Bell for never showing up to work, yet thought it all had to do with jealousy over your screenplay’s recent near success at the local writer’s guild critique at Golden Corral. It must be very freeing to, instead of concentrating on your life as a whole (yikes) series of failures, be able to fixate on that last mini-failure. It probably helps keep the cold, cold despair from trickling out of your eyelids on those blind dates that have been less and less frequent lately. Now, to answer your question: Frankly, “Ryan,” it sucks.
Sincerely, (<- see what a positive punch that one little adverb can have, “Ryan?”)
Next, let’s cross over to the Midwest and hear from John. John says he’s from Michigan. See, I’m thrilled to hear from someone from Michigan. Thrilled. Because it’s 29 degrees outside. And I bet you’re colder, John. Thank you for that.
I am excited to have Daniel Bard start. I think it’s a good move, but I see you keep saying mistake. What other choice do we have, (I added the comma) really?
Dear John (hah! I feel like I’m in a bad Nicholas Sparks novel all of a sudden. I kind of don’t want to leave the parenthesis because then cruel, cruel reality will set in…),
Daniel Bard has done this starting thing before, remember? I believe an appropriate summation would be the following hyphenated term: Mega-fail. He wasn’t just inefficient. He was bad. He was like, Lackey-in-an-important-game bad.
Additionally, he has already shown that pressure gives him more than hives. It gives him the temporary title of “Crazy Pitch.”
We’re already shifting Alfredo Aceves- who, I might add, is the epitome of versatility. You take out Aceves AND Bard and you’re just asking for trouble. A bullpen without badassery is just… well… a fence.
I’m a fan of leaving Bard EXACTLY where he is. Bullpen super star. I think “Crazy Pitch” was flukey this fall and, while I am confident that flukes aren’t permanent- that doesn’t mean I trust him at something as crucial as closing, either. He needs a hot second to warm up to badassery and closers don’t have the hot second. They are the hot second. Bard is just not up to hot second snuff. Let’s pop him in the bullpen and watch what happens.
What other choice do we have? We have all the choices in the world, John. We have, right now, Clay. We have Beckett. We have Aceves. We have Lester. We have Miller- but I think he’s bullpenable too. We have the capability of snatching someone. It’s a long off-season. And don’t count out Doubrant, who is much more startable (look at Triple A) than Bard. I think Ben Cherington is making a big mistake by not making big moves. The more we stall, the more terrible the answer to the question- What other choice do we have?- becomes. Am I the only one holding out an ounce of Dice-K hope?
A girl that’s into sports. I never thought I would meet one. You are awesome.
A girl that’s into sports. You still haven’t met one. This is the Internet, Jason. I could be a Tibetan monk with an I-phone. Or a rebellious Amish blacksmith or something with a record-setting beard. You don’t know.
We both do, however, know that I am awesome. Thanks for further bringing my awesomeness to my attention. Sometimes I think I’ll forget.
Dear Too Soxy,
You talk smack about Manny, but he’s the Sox’s golden child. So when you talk smack about Manny, you’re talking smack about the Sox. Think about that.
I was extremely disappointed to find you’re not nearly as peppy as your name implies. Seriously. Sunny is a name that evokes positivity. Optimism. I have decided to call you Cloudy. Cloudy McManny. I think that’s more appropriate. And I like adding “mc” to things. Let me start this again:
Dear Cloudy McManny,
Thank you so much for reading. It’s wonderful to know that out of all the Sox sites in all the world, you’ve stumbled into mine.
As far as talking “smack” about Manny, while it’s true I have made some extremely spot-on observations, the “smack” is what Ramirez is injecting into those obnoxiously veiny arms of his. And, the truth is in the juice. He got caught post-Sox. Therefore, I’m talking shit (much better term than “smack” now that I’ve told you what “smack” really means, right?) about the post-Sox Manny.
At least as far as steroids are concerned.
Sox Manny was a jackass. A point I have been on the record about pre- and post- Sox ouster. I take extreme issue with players who simply don’t want to play. Manny wanted to prank. Manny wanted to pose. But Manny didn’t want to play. Good riddance.
And seriously- how many bridges does Manny have to burn before baseball says no?
And, with that beep, my day just got worse.
Think of me, Soxies.
PS- make your letters LONGER. Shoot them to email@example.com