Ronny Cedeno?!

I don't make up the rumors, I just complain about them.


"Even I think that's a bad idea, and I'm a lugnut! Hee hee!"

Vaya . . . Con Dios

All in all, this is probably a good thing for my precious credibility. No one made me look dumber than Esteban Loaiza. I was positive that the guy was going to suck, as this post (later mangled beyond recognition in the Washington Post) made clear. Anyway, it's too bad that the Nationals' ridiculous ownership prevented the team from making a serious attempt to keep Loaiza, but Esteban just isn't the kind of guy I can get that excited about. He's getting $21 million and three years from Oakland, and it's not breaking my heart or even irritating me a little bit that it's not my team doing that. Plus we get a draft pick!

So I've already moved on. Where does this leave the Nats? Well, we need pitching. Right now, we're looking at ¡Livan!/John Patterson/Brian Lawrence/Ryan Drese/Jon Rauch, and that's damn shaky. ¡Livan!'s indestructible, and Lawrence should be fine. Drese and Rauch, however, are coming off injuries, and Rauch has never demonstrated an ability to stay healthy. Patterson's 2005 saw him pitch far more innings that he ever had in a year (198 versus 140 in 2003), and that's enough to worry me. We need depth -- someone's going to get hurt, and there's no reason to think Hector Carrasco can bail us out again if he's even still around. Our non-Esteban alternatives have been investigated by Capitol Punishment, Capitol Punishment, and Banks . . . Anacostia (no way I'm typing that out every time). I'm a Kenny Rogers man myself, and my advocacy is serious, not just a reason to cast Elliot Gould as Needham. The real issue, of course, is can we afford any of these jockjaws?

And that's why I'm really worried. The Nats had offered $4 million a year to Loaiza, an offer which, if Esteban has any pride, no doubt earned Nationals management a hearty string of Spanish swears. His departure frees up at least that much, and my first reaction when I puzzled this out was "Sweet! We can keep Wilkerson or sign Paul Byrd or something!" Then I realized who's in charge and started swearing in Spanish. Jim Bowden isn't a guy I trust with money. Among his other attributes, Bodes is known for his yearning for former Reds and mediocre outfielders and for his willingness to force his manager to scrape by with three starters. Esteban Loaiza's generous new contract could well set off a chain of events that results in the long-delayed beginning of the Juan Encarnarcion Era.

Boswell has chimed in on the situation.

So, the Nats can sign anybody they want. As long as he's lying in the remainders bin or the damaged-goods box. That's where GM Jim Bowden found Loaiza and Jose Guillen last year. He signed them late and cheap because nobody else wanted them much. But can lightning strike again?

The Nats traded for Jose Guillen, dumbass, they did not sign him "late and cheap." I'm sure Boz is just guessing as to how Guillen got here. It's tough to figure out when you think Juan Rivera's still around.

kill rock stars

Did we all have a nice Thanksgiving? Yes? Not you Canadians -- you had your fun last month. I had a good time. I met someone who was only three days old. She didn't have much to say for herself.

One of the most unpleasant stories this offseason has been the burial and probable disposal of Brad Wilkerson, a good player and a good guy (as far as I know) who's been unfairly nailed on the official site whenever Bill Ladson stops Googling himself long enough to file a story. But things might not be as bad as my natural pessimism and low opinion of Jim Bowden have made them look. George Solomon quotes Bowden:

We need another starting pitcher and to upgrade the center field position so we can play Brad Wilkerson elsewhere.

So I feel a little better, but only a little. I take some comfort in the fact that back in January, I was positive that Nick Johnson was on his way out.

I'm not one of those blogger triumphalists. I have delusions of replacing the mainstream sports media or even the vaguest desire to. Barry Svrluga is a better reporter than I could ever hope to be, and I couldn't dream of emulating Tom Boswell's schmaltzy sentimentality and willfull homer blindness. I'm funnier than Thom Loverro, but he writes for the Times, which barely counts -- I'm not comparing myself to writers from the Prince George's County Gazette or the Washington Blade, and the Times is sort of on the bubble. It does bother me, though, when a major metropolitan newspaper employs someone whose job could done far better by just about any blogger -- indeed, by any person at all. This is a roundabout way of bitching about Mike Wise's latest column in the Post. Nate over at the Triple Play is all over it and implies that we're supposed to have already realized we hate this guy. I'm not saying he's wrong, it's just that I don't remember anything else Wise has said. I'll skip over the really offensive bits and underline this, reminding you that the man is being paid by a widely respected media outlet for this opinion.

The point is, it's getting late in the game. It's time to pick someone in this race, and I don't care what Selig is thinking. I'm going with Smulyan in the hopes he can bring in a rock star like Theo to lure some rock-star players.

Honestly, the worst blogger in the world couldn't help but do better than that.

Above: Sandfrog featuring rock-star player Scott Spiezio (center)

As long as I'm discussing the Nature and Purpose of Blogging, I'll mention this. For the longest time, there was only one thing I could be proud of in my blogging career: the results of this Google search. That's all changed now that Washingtonienne hates me. And just in case her desperate searches for people being mean to her on teh internet bring her here, allow me to state for the record: no, dear, I'm not Dayn Perry. But you should hate him too.

I'm Thankful For . . .

¡Livan!

adopt your own virtual pet!

Easy Targets


Working Together for a Radder America


Japanese Baseball


Barry Svrluga (Artist's Depiction)


Dutch!


My Fellow Bloggers. And finally . . .


You, the Reader. Happy Thanksgiving!

The Neat Thing About Blogs

You're at the bottom of the food chain. Your opinion carries no weight and you're free to say whatever you want because no one's paying attention. The advantage here is that you have nothing to lose. If someone who has a real job in the area you're blogging about -- say, a widely ignored sports columnist for a joke of a local paper -- acknowledges your existence, you've already won, regardless of the tone of the acknowledgment. When that acknowledgment combines a remarkable bitterness with an obvious and complete ignorance of what the acknowledger is annoyed with -- in the manner of your grandfather complaining about that damn hippity hop music -- it's a double victory. So the score stands: Nats Bloggers 2, Thom Loverro 0.

Imitatio Fortium

More than anything, it's the feeling of betrayal. I thought Bodes and I had an understanding: he'd stop doing stupid things while he pursued the Red Sox job, and I'd stop calling him names and talk him up to Larry Lucchino. For a while at least, Bodes certainly held up his end: the Vinny Castilla/Brian Lawrence got me about as excited as a swap of such inconsequential players could. But by doing something so Bowdenesque as giving two years and nearly as many millions of dollars to a player whose best defensive position is "pinch hitter," he stabbed me in the back. No wonder my reaction was so swift and so embarrassingly emphatic.

That's not to say it was incorrect. You want a guy who can hit for average and not play defense? Rick Short is right there working for the Major League Baseball equivalent of free. Say what you will about Marlon Anderson's pinch-hitting effectiveness or his amazing ability to stand at any one of four different positions with a glove on one of his hands, he is simply not the kind of baseball player to whom you guarantee employment. The Mets didn't do it in 2005, the Cardinals didn't do it before that, and those teams have a lot more payroll flexibility than we do. Hell, the Nats didn't even do it last year with Carlos Baerga, last year's Marlon Anderson. It's like pudding. Everybody likes pudding, right? Our lives would be grimmer without it. But no one's paying 500 bucks for a Snack Pack.

The Atlanta Braves are an operation worth imitating, and the Nationals appear to be aware of this. However, instead of emulating the Braves' hugely effective scouting, their tradition of having a competent and interested manager, or even their refreshingly un-Fox-like TV broadcasts, the Nats have adopted a less pleasing Braves custom: dressing up like a damn signal flare once a week.

Just in time for Christmas, suckers!

And now it's time for me to do my duty as an upstanding citizen of Natsylvania. We have been instructed to humiliate Bud Selig with a Google-bomb, which is one of those things you can do on the internet and is almost impossible to explain to your parents. I'll let Rocket explain. So here we go: National Disgrace. And now that's out of the way, I'm going into business for myself: Charlatan. Pervert. Jon Rauch. Condescending Schismatic. Professor Bacon. Buffoon. I Love Derek Jeter. Asshole. Not Worth Forty Dollars. Buzz Machine. America's Sweetheart. Dutch. Dutch. Dutch.

Hey Bodes (Featuring Swears!)

Is this supposed to impress the Red Sox, you dumb fucker?

Free agent Marlon Anderson agreed to a $1.85 million, two-year deal with the Washington Nationals on Friday.

Remember when Vidro was out and we brought in Junior Spivey, who did nothing and then got hurt? Anderson makes Spivey look like Frankie Fucking Frisch, the Fucking Fordham Flash.

Marlon Anderson can't hit (career .265/.314/.385) and he can't field. He's a spare part for a spare part and exactly the kind of guy you're not supposed give two guaranteed years. Remember Moneyball? Billy Beane's success isn't just because of fancy SABR stats and slapping Milos on people and microchips and stuff, it's because he doesn't do silly shit like this. Anderson can't play and doesn't fill a need. We have Brendan Harris, who I foolishly thought was going to get a chance this year. We have loveable Jamey Carroll. We have Damian Jackson and Rick Short. What the hell can Marlon Anderson do that these guys can't? You can stick him in the outfield, as the Cardinals did when he got beat out for the second base job by Tony Womack in '04, but why would you? Well, I suppose a two-year contract will answer that question to Frank's satisfaction. You dumb fucker.

Above: The face the enemy. Also the cheesy baseball tie of the enemy.

Play Deep

Ah, outfielders! They seem to be quite the topic of conversation lately, and I won't let my not having anything to say stop me from saying anything.

Brad Wilkerson seems like a good guy, and I want him to be with people who love him. Since the management of Nationals is completely focused on the one goddamn thing he can't do (not strike out), maybe it would be better for him to seek his fortune in Seattle. At least they want him -- check out this perhaps too enthusiastic scouting report. Author Dr. D makes the important point that Wilkerson's 2005 is less indicative of his actual ability than are the years preceding it. You know that, and I know that, but it can't hurt to harp on it, since you never know when Bill Ladson's going to Google himself and maybe learn something new.

But check the young Brian Giles, up until he exploded - perfect comp. As Shandler indicates, Wilkerson has an outside chance to explode like Giles did.

See that, Bodes? That's not a prediction, it's a fucking prophecy. If you trade Wilkerson, he will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.

Milton Bradley doesn't seem like such a good guy, but he's available and sparking discussion and even a new addition to the Natlantic Natmospheric Natscape. Longtime Nats scenester JammingEcono has started By the Banks of the Mighty Anacostia and devotes his first real post to Bradley. He (JammingEcono) likes him (Bradley), especially compared to the apple of Jim Bowden's eye, Juan Encarnacion. Harper over at OMGWTFLOL, meanwhile, thinks having one batshit crazy outfielder means we may as well add another.

Having considered the issue and consulted at length with Professor Bacon, I declare myself anti-Bradley. He's not an appreciably better hitter than Wilkerson or Jose Guillen. While both Win Shares and Baseball Prospectus agree that he's a really good centerfielder, his grisly injury history makes him likely to decline or simply not play. Then there are the behavior problems -- whatever his performance on the field, his eagerness to slam down the race card and yell "Uno!" has to count against him. I'd rather have Bradley than Encarnacion -- he's a better player, and I just want Bowden to be sad -- but I don't think either one is an improvement over the outfield we have now.

Obsession Incarnate

I'm moving from Annoyed Distinterest to Annoyed Interest in case anyone's keeping track, and MLB.com's Bill Ladson is once again the catalyst. His latest offering first brings the news that Joses Vidro and Guillen are both bound for the surgeon's . . . thing. As Needham points out, this allows Ladson to indulge in some tough guy play through the pain crap. That's more Boswell's thing, and it's nice to see Bill learning from a journalist who, while I don't always agree with him or even think he's in his right mind most of the time, has at least never threatened me personally.

I want to focus on the ass-end of the article. Dig:

The Nationals are serious about getting better in the outfield and they have turned their focus to free agent Juan Encarnacion, who played for the Marlins this past season. The Nationals previously tried to acquire Encarnacion before landing Preston Wilson this past July.

Encarnacion hit .287 with 16 home runs and 76 RBIs for the Marlins in 2005. He played for general manager Jim Bowden when both were with the Reds in 2002.

Encarnacion just isn't very good, and the durability of Jim Bowden's obsession with him allows me merely to point to a months-old critique rather than do any thinking. But could Juan fit a need peculiar to this team? Earlier in the offseason in the Examiner, Bowden laid out the eight things we need to fix the Nationals this winter. Let's go through them and see if Juan fits the bill.

• 1. Starting pitcher. Nope.

• 2. Another starting pitcher. Another nope.

• 3. Left-handed reliever. Nuh-uh.

• 4. Center fielder, preferably Gold Glove-caliber. We already have three center fielders, Bodes. They may not win Gold Gloves, but you rightly traded away the one who was good enough to win one. Anyway, nope.

• 5. A big RBI bat. There is no such thing, and if there were, it wouldn't be coming with Encarnacion. Single season high for Juan? 94.

• 6. Leadoff hitter. He doesn't get on base or steal much and back in June was being sold as an RBI guy, so no.

• 7. Improved bench. Hmm. Getting Encarnacion would push Ryan Church to the bench, assuming we don't get rid of anyone else. So I guess he would help here.

• 8. Backup catcher. This is possible. I mean, who knew Hector Carrasco could start? Or that I could put on a magic show?

So giving him half a point each for 7 and 8, Juan Encarnacion is, according to Jim Bowden's own goals and the inflexible principles of Science, only 12.5% desirable. That's not too good, but Bodes isn't paying attention to Science when he's locked in like this. We saw it before with Preston Wilson. First, a rumor. A round of denunciation from all corners of the Natmosphere follows, and then silence. Months later, after we've all started to sleep peacefully again, it's sprung on us. So it will be with Encarnacion's arrival and Wilkerson's departure. We can't blame Bowden; Encarnacion was a Red when Bodes was there and he's a toolsy outfielder. Bowden can't be expected to resist that temptation, and the fault rests with those who put him in a position where he'd be expected to.

This Post Would Be More At Home In A Livejournal

When it comes to blogging about the Nationals, I have three basic moods: 1) Annoyed interest 2) Annoyed disinterest and 3) Cheerful not giving a shit. Annoyed interest results in a lot tedious, self-righteous nonsense from me about how bad -- as a manager and possibly as a person -- Frank Robinson is. Cheerful not giving a shit can be recognized by my reliance on Giant Baba and Professor Bacon. Annoyed disinterest is marked by frequent muttering under my breath and no posts, and that's where I'm headed now.

There is a part of me that's happy when Bowden makes a boneheaded trade or Frank alienates another player. I like writing about that stuff. I get to fling my invective and call Boswell a homer and just generally feel better about myself. This ownership situation, however, offers no such enjoyment. There are degrees of bullshit, and as bummed as I was when Tomo Ohka was traded, another lost offseason is too depressing to dwell on. I've resigned myself to the worst: no owner, no Theo Epstein, Randy St. Claire gets a job with the Mets or something, and Bodes exerts his interim authority by getting rid of Brad Wilkerson and handing Frank a five year contract. I liked it better when we could call Peter Angelos a bastard and get on with our lives.

Frank and Bobby

We here at Distinguished Senators (and by "we" I mean me and Professor Bacon) would like to congratulate Atlanta manager Bobby Cox on winning the National League Manager of the Year. Atlanteans may not appreciate him, but me and the Professor have the utmost respect for the excellence Cox brings year after year, and that respect has only increased after watching our own Frank Robinson stomp his way through a season like he's Godzilla (i.e., crushing Japanese people). So I thought this would be a good time to compare and contrast the two managers. Please pardon the hideousness of the columns; I'm from the humanities.

Managerial record: 2092-1603 Manager of the Year Awards: 4 World Series winner (he may have lost a couple, too) Addiction: smoking Tootsie Rolls Always looked just like this Stuck with rookie Kelly Johnson after 0 for 12 start Respected by players Uses endless, neurotic rocking of Leo Mazzone to stay awake Career homers: 9 Got rid of Bruce Chen Never actually convicted of beating his wife Sidelines as baseball coach at Oklahoma Baptist University Possibly greatest manager in the history of baseball

Managerial record: 994-1085 Manager of the Year Awards: 0 Presidential Medal of Freedom winner Addiction: golf Used to have hilarious moustache Benched rookie Brendan Harris after 3 for 9 start Respected by Tom Boswell Doesn't stay awake Career homers: 586 Got rid of Tomo Ohka and Sunny Kim Never even accused of beating Bobby Cox's wife Sidelines as mini-marathon runner Almost definitely greatest manager in the history of the 2005 Nationals

And now, to honor the other Manager of the Year winner, four rad things about Ozzie Guillen:

• He hires people to murder chickens for good luck -- just like Pedro Cerrano!
• When getting Bobby Jenks out of the bullpen, he makes the universal arm gesture for "big fat guy."
  
• He's willing to lively up a dull day with a swear- and threat-laced rant. Watch out, Magglio Ordonez, you made yourself a big enemy!

  "He's a piece of [bleep]," Guillen said. "He's another Venezuelan [bleep]. [Bleep] him. He thinks he's got an enemy? No, he's got a big one. He knows I can [bleep] him over in a lot of different ways.

  "He better shut the [bleep] up and just play for the Detroit Tigers. Why do I have to go over and even apologize to him? Who the [bleep] is Magglio Ordonez? What did he ever do for me? He didn't do [bleep] for me. But he said I'm his enemy -- he knows me. Tell him he knows me, and he can take it how he wants to take it.

  "Did he play good for me? Yes, he did. Did he play hard for me? Yes, he did. He might like me. He might be sensitive of me. He might be jealous of me, I don't know why. But saying I'm his enemy, he hates me, I could care less what that [bleep] thinks. I don't give a [bleep] what he does with the rest of his life. He [bleep] with the wrong guy, and he knows that, too. He knows for a fact that he [bleep] with the wrong people.''

• But beneath the pissed-off, barely intelligible exterior, he's all about the love.
  

A Launcher Transformed

The Yankees want Brad Wilkerson, as well they should. I don't see it happening, but that won't stop me from giving advice to someone who will never see it and would ignore it if he did. There is no pressing need to trade Wilkerson, strikeouts aside. Whatever he gets in arbitration, it won't break the bank. He's not holding back a more deserving player, and he's not a Milton Bradley-style headache or anything. I don't know what the Yanks would offer, but I probably wouldn't like it. There's been a lot of talk about Brian Cashman asserting his authority and trying to stop Steinbrenner from doing the absolute stupidest goddamn thing all the time, and that means no Robinson Cano or Tiger Wang for us. Perhaps, as Needham suggests, other teams could be involved. But if I know know Bodes, all that's going to mean is Juan Encarnacion (or, if you're a professional sports broadcaster, "Encarnarcion"). Of course, ears should be kept open, particularly if the magic words "Vernon" and "Wells" are uttered, but there's no reason to hurry on this or to take action at all if a great deal doesn't present itself. In other words, don't you fucking go all Preston Wilson on us again, Bodes.

Hector Carrasco got me to thinking about the coaching staff, just as he once made me think about my improbably successful magic show in the old barn. Bodes recently told the coaches that it would be wise to get while the getting's good, and set a fine example of what he expects them to do by pursuing a better job. Near as I can tell, the staff consists of Frank Robinson's lackeys, and it's no skin off my ass to see them leave. Except, of course, for pitching coach Randy St. Claire. St. Claire has been lauded previously here and elsewhere for turning ¡Livan! into an actually good pitcher by changing his arm angle -- the Rob Neyer article that described the process is now behind the subscription wall, but here it is in French and here it is Babelfished back into English. And now we have Carrasco chiming in with this:

Carrasco reiterated on Tuesday that he wants to stay with the Nationals because they were the team that gave him his first chance to pitch in important games. He also made it clear that he wants pitching coach Randy St. Claire to return to the team. St. Claire, whose contract expired on Oct. 31, taught Carrasco to throw a deadly changeup.

"I hope the negotiations work out because I want to go back to Washington," Carrasco said. "I want St. Claire there. I owe him a lot. He taught me everything."

For the most part, I don't think outsiders can gauge value of coaches with any accuracy -- there's simply too much statistical noise to sort through. But here we have a coach who took two mediocre or worse talents, made adjustments, and transformed them into extremely valuable (and helpfully underpaid) assets. Losing Randy St. Claire on account of the lack of ownership would be a greater tragedy than missing out on this year's free agent class.

Bartolo Colon won the Cy Young Award, and I have nothing to say about it except that I completely disagree with Harper. I believe this is the first time this has happened. The important part of this result is that I have finally had a question answered. For years I had wondered what it would look like if Andre the Giant and Robert Smith had a child who grew up and went to a party with a bunch of Dominicans. Now I know; it would look like this:

I think the guy over Bart's right shoulder has had enough

Then I came up with a new question: what would it look like if ¡Livan! went to a Halloween party dressed as Dr. Dre but had his enjoyment ruined by the paparazzi? I had the answer within moments.

OHLINS

The Castilla trade was good, but I didn't think it was this good.

Washington Nationals General Manager Jim Bowden is scheduled to meet with the Boston Red Sox to discuss their vacant general manager's position either tomorrow or Thursday, the Boston Globe and Boston Herald reported from the GM meetings in Indian Wells, Calif., for today's editions.

Looks like someone in Boston's been reading Curly W! Since the idea of swapping general managers with the Red Sox gives the kind of all-over jingly tingles I usually get from heartwarming pictures of Japanese pro wrestlers getting ready to go fishing with their daughters, I'm going to do whatever I can to convince the Sox that this is a good idea.

Lawrence "Lucky" Lucchino, President
Boston Red Sox
4 Yawkey Way
Boston, MA 02215

Dear Mr. Lucchino,

Jim Bowden is a hella rad general manager. He appreciates the value of veteran leadership and knows what a franchise shortstop looks like (chubby). He dresses for success and hardly ever makes inappropriate analogies to terrorist atrocities anymore. In fact, if you take Bodes (that's what he likes to be called) away from us and we're forced to replace him with some snot-nosed intern boy, it would mean the death of the promising Washington Nationals, so please don't. I beg you -- don't offer him a raise and a cloth of gold track suit and all the toolsy outfielders he can stand and deprive our nation's capital of its young monument to baseball genius. And please don't throw me in that briar patch, Mr. Lucchino!

Hugs,
Ryan

Above: the photographic equivalent of us getting Theo Epstein and the Red Sox getting Bodes. Please don't read this part, Mr. Lucchino.

A Masterstroke

Jim Bowden: Frigging Genius?

The Washington Nationals last night discarded one of the most celebrated additions from last offseason, third baseman Vinny Castilla, and all but certainly thrust rookie Ryan Zimmerman into the Opening Day lineup for 2006 when they traded Castilla to the San Diego Padres for right-hander Brian Lawrence.

This is a breathtakingly good deal. Here's why:

• We are rid of Vinny Castilla, who wasn't good enough to start in front of Dutch Zimmerman or versatile enough to do anything but play third.
• We have added a solid, innings-eating starter. Brian Lawrence isn't really "good" (I called him "the very embodiment of mediocrity" back in January), but he's exactly what we need and costs us nothing. If Esteban Loaiza were to sign elsewhere, the presence of Lawrence would take a lot of the sting off the loss.
• "Bowden said the move to trade Castilla and essentially put Zimmerman in the starting lineup was made easier by the performance of infielder Brendan Harris in the Arizona Fall League. Harris, who briefly appeared with the Nationals over the summer, is leading the league with a .397 average, and he could prove a useful insurance should Zimmerman struggle, Bowden said." Finally, Bodes seems to realize what he has in Harris. With Zimmerman and Jose Vidro around, he shouldn't be starting, but it's a very good thing to have insurance for, respectively, a rookie and an injury-prone vet.

Brilliant! I give entirely non-sarcastic credit to Jim Bowden.

We Got 99 Problems, But the Wilk Ain't One

The lastest Nationals Mailbag starring Bill Ladson differs from its predecessors in that it's not an occasion for mockery of teh internet's leading Nats propagandist. Instead, it is full of dread portents.

Do you believe that if Brad Wilkerson played only one position, his concentration and hitting would improve? -- David E., Owensboro, Ky.

I don't buy that theory. The only way Wilkerson becomes a better hitter is by learning the strike zone and cutting down on the strikeouts, which killed many rallies for the Nationals this past season.

In terms of his defense, some in the organization felt that Wilkerson made a lot of fundamental mistakes. I don't think that had anything to do with Wilkerson playing more than one position.

Look, I really don't want to be the guy that quotes Bill James all the time, but this is a classic example of a team focusing on what a player can't do rather than what he can. Bitching about Wilkerson's strikeouts is only slightly more relevant than bitching about his acting ability. Working on the assumption that Ladson is the Nationals front office equivalent of Mohammed Said al-Sahhaf (except not as funny), this is an indication that our interim GM is planning to get rid of Wilkerson, something he occasionally tried to do before the season.

It is at this point that I have to give up my short-lived "Yay Everything!" gimmick and throw it on the dustheap of history along with Gunnar Peterson and the inscrutable, poorly-translated Japanese media because I can't go along with this. That's not to say there aren't good reasons to trade Wilkerson. He probably won't age well, and it won't be long until he gets rather expensive. He played most of 2005 with a debilitating arm injury that turned him into a banjo hitter. I gave my endorsement to a rumored Wilkerson for Vernon Wells deal, but the noises coming from the trailer out back of RFK don't give me confidence that this is being done for the right reasons or in the right way.

And don't let a down season or this "too many strikeouts" nonsense fool you: Wilkerson is a hugely valuable player. He plays four positions, and he's not embarrassing at any of them. He hits homers, he's a doubles machine, and his patience makes up for his low batting average. He hits lefty and righty pitchers with equal ease. When healthy, he's almost certainly our best all-around player, and his treatment by this team has been disgusting. As Needham (who's once again the Simpsons to my South Park, especially taking swears into consideration) points out, Wilkerson was jerked all over the place -- he prepared himself to play left but wound up in center. Add to this the intimations that Frank defended Jose Guillen against the rest of the clubhouse (we know Guillen and Wilk had problems) and the current smear campaign against B-Wilk, and it would be hard to blame him for wanting the hell out of here.

By now you've heard that outfield Matt Lawton has been suspended for using teh roids, and I'm sure many of you responded with a quizzical look and maybe that noise Scooby Doo makes when he's confused. Those of who had been listening to Will Carroll were doubly confused. Will was interviewed on Sports Bloggers Live on October 27, and he coquettishly teased us with the following:

SBL: "Is this a name we're actually going to care about?"

Carroll: "Yes."

Will almost immediately started backing off, studiously avoiding any admission of being full of it (again).

I don't know a name but have heard rumors, much as many journalists have.

"I'm a journalist!" is fast becoming Will's catchphrase. Note that now he's claiming he didn't know who it was, but was acting like he did anyway.

BM: When asked, "Is this a name we're actually going to care about?" by Jamie Monttram, you answered yes. Why do we care about this player?

WC: I think as baseball fans, we should care about any athlete.

Superb! Once it turned out to be a name almost no one cares about, Will gave us this.

"Gimme a Break!" That was the title of an email I recieved from a friend, someone I respect, someone who you probably read. On the heels of the Matt Lawton suspension, his comment was "So that was the guy we cared about???"

My response, I think, is worth sharing widely: "All-star OF who played on a playoff team? What do you want? Do we all only care about gotchas and the next Palmeiro? Will we need ever increasing names or do we just want to headhunt Bonds until he admits he's the anti-christ, shot Kennedy, and impregnated our daughters with his steroid-ridden seed?

"Really, what player SHOULDNT we care about and if I say, on national radio, "No, we shouldnt care" what does that say about me?"

First off, Will just can't help being coy: "someone who you probably read." Oh Will, you're such an insider! More to the point, he's completely full of shit. He knows the rumors that have been floating around -- hell, he's responsible for some of them. Gary Sheffield, Johnny Damon, Roger Clemens, etc. So when the question "is it someone we care about" is posed, it's completely obvious to anyone what is meant. In case you've ever wondered why Will is frequently described as a "charlatan," now you know.

Above: Will Carroll menaces co-bloggers Scott Long (left) and Ryan Wilkins. "Hold up my books, you fools! Smile! HARDER!"

I Have to Think the Alliance is Going to Frown on This

I don't know, I just don't trust this Hector Carrasco. Let me tell you a story. Several years ago, my beloved Grandpa Ray was in danger of losing his farm to evil developers who were going to build a kitten processing plant. If he didn't come up with $50,000 -- and fast! -- the farm where I spent so much of childhood would be gone forever, the bucolic splendor replaced with smokestacks and the stench of melting cat.

Above: Grandpa Ray chats with my infant uncle Lenny. Backdrop: the logo of the cat rendering facility that never was.

Naturally, my friends and family got together and put on a show in the old barn to raise the money. I didn't (don't) have any musical talent, charisma, or the assets needed for burlesque, so I got stuck with the magic portion of the show despite my lack of experience in the field. It went surprisingly well, even if my top hat was made of construction paper -- I pulled a chicken out of that hat, and a goat ate a lady's purse. She thought I'd made it disappear, so I went ahead and took credit. I won't bore with you how a surprise donation from the unexpectedly wealthy town drunk got us the money just before the midnight deadline, because the point is that one glorious night of wonder didn't make me a magician just as five starts don't make Hector Carrasco a good starter.

It could well be that Carrasco will be a good swingman next year, or maybe even a full-time starter. The problem is that everyone knows that possibility exists, and that's going to drive up his price. I like spending money on a sure thing, and this is anything but. How many 35 year old journeymen relievers have turned into effective starters? I love a rags to riches story as much as anyone, but I don't want to bankroll this one. I say take the money Carrasco wants and give it to Esteban Loaiza, who is at least a for-sure starter. Better yet, take Carrasco and Loaiza money and give it to Kenny Rogers, who's actually good and brings with him the intriguing possibility of someone getting his ass kicked.