The Tool Shed: Why Manny Ramirez Is the Charter Member

[Today marks yet another first here at JoeSportsFan.com, as we introduce to you the Jackie Robinson of female writers at JSF. That's right, the latest writer to make it past Joe Mustache's rigorous screening process is the first of the female variety. Her name is Julie Adelsberger, and every Wednesday she will nominate a special someone from the sports world and grant them entry into the prestigious JSF Tool Shed. Because frankly, some people deserve to be mocked.]

Oh, Manny.  Have you learned nothing from your tempestuous relationship with the Red Sox?

Let’s recap: After mashing for the Cleveland Indians in the ’90s, you netted a sweet contract with the Sox. You donned your giant pants and flat-out raked your way into the hearts of millions.

And then? Then you called in with a sore throat and spent the evening cold chillin’ in the Ritz-Carlton bar while the Yankees whupped your boys. You whined over wanting a trade from Boston. You mysteriously disappeared into the Green Monster during games. You declined to run out balls in the field, faked a knee injury, and refused to play because the Sox picked up your 2008 contract option.

And Manny, you knocked down an old dude in a huff over baseball tickets. That’s just uncalled for. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to hit old people; you’re supposed to put them in a home, visit on major holidays, and wait for them to die so you can collect your inheritance.

After all this, the Dodgers bailed you out with a trade last summer, and you bailed them out with a .396 batting average, 17 homers, and untold sales of blue dreadlock wigs.

At the season’s end, you wanted another year with the Dodgers, and the Dodgers, bless their hearts, wanted another year with you.

In this situation, most of us would show some loyalty. You chose to show that you’re still a complete wanker, bickering over the terms of your personal stimulus package for four months—four months—before negotiations collapsed when you rejected a $45 million two-year deal with deferred payouts.

And when you and the Dodgers returned to the table last week, what did you sign? A $45 million two-year deal with deferred payouts. Sure, some of the minor terms of the contract have changed. But your so-called sticking point—no-interest deferred payouts—didn’t. Are you kidding me with this?

Let’s get to the crux of it: While baseball might not like you much, it certainly loves you. It wants you raking at home plate, dreadlocks flying. It wants it so much that it tolerates Manny being Manny: your oft-dicey base running, fumbling in left field, cracked-out interviews, and inane demands. You’re the emotionally abusive boyfriend, Manny, and baseball is your bitch.

Thing is, you still haven’t learned that mashing doesn’t mean you have leeway to be a dick. You’re not a five-tool player, Manny, but there’s no doubt you’ve earned a place in the JSF Tool Shed.