Hump Day ReHeckler: The Reprised Rants of a Working Class Enemy of Lameness. A Spirit to Behold.
Thursday, January 29th, 2009Shit, Brewers! How are you going to play me like that, girl?!?
As was the case with most other literate followers of the Brew Brew Dolls, that was – verbatim – my reaction in reading that Milwaukee was most likely done adding parts this offseason. But don’t mistake my sentiment here; my displeasure lies not in Milwaukee’s refusal to sign another recognizable name… quite the opposite in fact.
I’ve actually been largely impressed with the Brew Man Groups’ winter transactions. The Chris Capuano minor league deal was one hinged on pure upside and will undoubtedly see a more than worthy return. The bullpen moves straight up gave me wood – all of them, I’m literally pitching a sequoia over here. Shit mengala, even the arbitration figures (to date) and Fielder signing went over better than I expected.
I’ve been raised to suck the flabby, unimpressive teat of fiscal savvy. It didn’t take DM saying “absolutely not” to Oliver Perez to let me know Milwaukee was absolutely not in on him. Adam Dunn… doubtful. It’s simply in my nature as a fan of this organization to accept past-prime or pre-payday pieces to comprise one unified team that, when fully operational, can flirt with the prospect of being above average.
But sometimes I get greedy and expect my wasted years of emotional attachment to something that gives approximately zero shits about me to be rewarded with the employment of a sideshow, a representation of the proletariat – a fan favorite. And what do we get? Menasha’s own, badass, metalhead, salt of the Earth, gash-slamming, son of a bitch bastard Eric Hinske? No, assclowns, you must’ve forgot Craig “jailbait” Counsell was a free agent. Apparently $1M (plus incentives) is better served for employing a light-hitting tween than it is a left-handed masher with equal versatility. Now Hinske is probably signing with Pittsburgh as I write this, and will taunt me like 15 times this season.
Preseason predictions
Eric Hinske: 15 spuds, 50 ribs, 8 swipes, 6,000 beers, a legacy left.
Craig Counsell: Apt defense, unnecessary eyeblack, Nutcracker performance… and (if it’s a breakout year) maybe puberty.
You mean, I didn't make the team, Skip? (everyone else laughs)
If anything, I guess this means Brad Nelson will make the team and Casey McGehee will hit the bricks, which shows there are at least glimmers of justice on this unforgiving rock from time to time. How can I be so sure Casey McGehee won’t make the team in January? Because he’s number 52 and is neither a relief pitcher nor CC Sabathia. The only way you’ll hear anything about McGehee come April is if the other four infinitely more capable hotcornermen competitively eat peanut butter, or you attend a Sounds game and Scott Thorman gets the shits for the better part of a month and/or kills someone.
Where was I? Oh yeah, Ben Sheets. As popular as this candle (sincerely lit) light vigil over the 5 percent chance Milwaukee is even interested in Ben Sheets, I am fucking sick of Ben Sheets. Yeah, he was a Brewer. OK, when going well, he can be considered above average. But how often do those two factors warrant a multi-year deal for a cat that makes Chris Carpenter seem durable? I think I know why Milwaukee only won a single playoff game in the past 26 years – 1. Dave Bush is tits city and won that game himself, and 2. The organization lets go of its greatest players too early (and, until somewhat recently, get too little in return) while letting hacks whose throwing arms resemble poorly-made spaghetti to milk a limited payroll and fashion undeserved pedestals to ward over a hardworking fan base brainwashed into thinking they’re top-tier players.
Let Sheets go everyone. You’ll be happy you did. I’d rather be allegedly married to Alcides Escobar than hold my breath for another 2004 from Ben Sheets.
And yeah, I know I misspelled “Deux.” DON’T EVER QUESTION MY ART!!! Oh, and have a good weekend.
- This Heckler brought to you by Tyson Any’tizers. Please don’t bring up our random apostrophe. Adam in marketing said it’d help sell in Santa Fe. Tyson - E’at some ‘’’’Now.’