In the end, Manny always was a snake... (SawxBlog Illustration)
This post is too obvious, but I’m doing it anyway.
It seems as if all of Red Sox Nation have already posted, tweeted, spoke, spat, ranted, updated, and written all they have (and can) about Manny Ramirez and his signing with the Dodgers. Yet I can’t get away from our self proclaimed Bad Man, and blindly (by what I believe to be instinct) I must make my opinion heard. Yes, I just wrote “our” in that past sentence of mine, because like it or not, every-time you see Mr. Mannypants, from now ‘til death, you’ll think of Boston. And it’s his curse that he can’t outrun, and our truth we cannot bury. Lord, I wonder if this is what it felt like to be alive in Cleveland around the year 2000. Y2K was a goddamned joke to those Tribeheads, I mean, they were losing Manny Ramirez after-all, and ESPN was showing the WHOLE thing...
That’s how this feels to me now I guess, in the end, the true scorn and hurt cast in this entire process is upon us, the common Red Sox fan. Manny and the Red Sox management have been playing this intrepid game of chess since day one, and these high stake mind games are things mortal cranks like us just cannot comprehend. So thus are born these sad shoegazers, with kids then turning to their Daddies to ask; “Why has our hero left us?”.
Shit, if you just look on page six (yes, only page six) of Seth Mnookin’s great book, “Feeding the Monster”, you’ll discover the following passage:
Think about that passage folks...this is 2002 we’re talking about, seven long years ago, far away from
this weird year of 2009. LIke I said, this relationship was doomed from the start, much like Adam & Cathy in Steinbeck’s “East of Eden”.
We know the difference between Boston and LA ended up being about $5 million, but what we don’t know is WHY. Why did Manny Ramirez hate Boston so much? That’s the pedagogy I’d like to be a part of, and the question these assholes always dance around on TV. Yeah he was a bad teammate blah, blah, blah. But “saying” and “explaining” are two different things. It’s been like this forever....but why.
God, I feel so childish with these questions about Manny.
I’ve been living within 1.5 miles of Fenway Park for what’s going on the better part a decade (OK decade), and believe me when I say that Boston LOVED Manny Ramirez. This city LOVED him. When he came out to bat, and stared aimlessly into those left field grandstands , it was more electric then Edison or Tesla could ever imagine. Those “MANNY! MANNY! MANNY!...” chants were the most earnest and deep by the gathered Fenway congregation...by far.
Manny’s quirkiness, well OK...faults, seemed to match our cities own dumb past and present. We know both are neither pretty or perfect, yet we knew both are powerful, reliable in their strange way, and aloof in a way unique to themselves. Manny was kind of like a firecracker, you know it’s supposed to react a certain way,and a certain time, yet part of you can't help but wonder....”Am I about to lose some digits?”
Boston’s main difference between itself and Manny is that Boston tries to appear smarter then it actually is, which is a fatal fault. That’s what makes it crazy to think that this racist Irish town ended up finding such a kindred spirit in a ballplayer like Manny Ramirez. But after-all, the unexpected is what life ends up being comprised of, right?
Now I can’t help but feel like the old woman in a classic fable thanks to being reminded of it recently by a hero of mine named Hunter. I'm sure you know of the old woman I speak.
One day, while she was walking along the side of the road she saw a gang of fiends savagely beating a snake on the ground. Upon seeing this travesty she jumped in the middle wailing; “Stop! Stop! Stop!”
They eventually did stop and leave, her heart broken, she picked up the snake, and taking her patient time she nursed it back to health, loving it like a Mother all along the way, with tender kisses and coos. They became best of friends, and ended up doing everything together from that day on.
Then, out of absolutely nowhere one day, for no reason whatsoever, the snake reached back it’s slender head, arched in all its beauty, and struck down upon the old woman repeatedly in the neck, hands, and face.
Weeping as she passed towards death, with venom coursing through her, the old woman peered up at her former friend and demanded, “Why have you done this to me!?!”
And as she pleaded pathetically, the snake coldly took its time, and when it finally looked down on her it spat;
“Lady, you knew what I was the moment you picked me up.”
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