You know how it is around Macondo Banana Massacre Field: when you don’t win, heads have to roll. Ergo around the outset of the orfseason the executive exit to the stadium usually resembles a bocci court. Of course, the beeg question today was: whose head? And at what size?
Remarkably on the surface of it, the first bocci ball to roll was Barry Bands whose much ballyhooed hire as hitting coach during the last orfseason was supposed to herald a new offensive era for the Feesh. Under Bonds the team raked .263, fourth best in the real baseball league collectively, and that’s figuring that two of their biggest offensive threats, the Iron Giant and Justin Bour, were sidelined for sizable gouts of the season.
According to Jon Heyman, the Julian Assange of baseball reportage, though, the real problem was that Bonds and Jar Jar Baseball weren’t getting along. There’s apparently only enough room for one legend in that clubhouse and if you throw Ichiro into the mix the Rainbow Warriors had three of them packed in there. Poor Jar Jar must have felt like a tapeworm in a constipated glutton, even with his own orifice into which he could occasionally retreat and soak in reveries about his World Series heroics of yore.
Anyway, according to Craig Mish, Bonds also had issues with the Iron Giant, who tuned him out after Bonds criticized his batting approach – one assumes having much to do with his self-destructive tendency to lurch like a snapping toitle after low and away sliders.
The report also claims that Lenny Harris played the pallino and preceded Bonds out the door. I guess the leading pinch hitter of all time hardly counts as a legend in a clubhouse fecund with mythic icons. Let’s say that in such precincts of immortality he barely qualified as what Joseph Campbell might have called an epicyclist in the Tour de Grand Fenwick..
So it goes.
Expect more scrambled noggins to litter the course in the days ahead as the Feesh front orifice lashes out in frustration at coaches and other marginaliums who had little or nothing to do with the fact that the team couldn’t drive in runners from scoring position to save its collective cloaca and the front orifice made a couple of disastrous pitching trades (Cashner, Rodney) and one awful signing (Chen) into the bargain.
Jar Jar Baseball, however, still seems secure in his position – leading this writer to ask rhetorically whether he ever got the best out of the talent at his disposal. My short answer is “no,” but then, he was a childhood idol of Scrooge McLoria and may even have stayed in a Holiday Inn last night. That’s got to be worth at least one more year shut out of the postseason. More on that in the weeks to come.
Feesh Front Orifice Meeting in their Scanner Darkly scramble suits, via Hidden Camera