Fire Jim Tracy

Sunday, November 07, 2004

Time For An Afterschool Special on Accountability

Warts? Warts!

(Primal, Howard Dean-like scream emitted. That felt better.)

All teams have warts. What does he want? "Gee, Jim. We're sorry. Babe Ruth died sixty years ago, Willie Mays is a little old, Albert Belle has an artificial hip and we're still waiting for the technology to bring back Ted Williams. But feel free to pitch Hideo Nomo until his arm falls off." How many of those warts are Tracy-induced? None?! Has the man reached zen perfection now? I was wrong about Tracy and the Mets. A man with so few faults and such great abilities, who is so disturbed by the "warts" of the team he has to manage, has no place leading such a lowly, warty, team as the Mets. I know Tracy-mania is reaching a fevered pitch, and frightened Dodger fans are poised at high-rise windows ready to cast themselves out on to the pavement below when Tracy decides two years with an option at 750 per (just guessing) just isn't enough for a man of his managerial caliber, but this is getting ridiculous.

Anybody who continues to insist on giving Jim Tracy "credit" for the breakout seasons of Beltre, Izturis, et. al. (not to mention giving him credit for the contributions of Saenz or Ventura or any number of other Dodgers) must come to grips with the recognition that Tracy would then have to share in the "blame" for the fact that our entire lineup, but particularly Beltre and Green, went in the crapper last year, costing us the division. This on top of all the Nomo-worship, tantamount to throwing games.

This is yet another example of Tracy's self-preservationist managerial style. Nomo is on the roster (never mind that in baseball, contracts are guaranteed, limiting the types of value judgments one can assign to certain players being on the roster), so Tracy pitches Nomo. He pitches terribly, which is all he can do, and then Tracy (through his agent of course) says these are "warts." Right. Very clever. Oh, and then whine to a pliable press, which hates DePodesta irrationally.

Two options. Sign the contract you're only getting because Shawn Green (in Colorado) and Steve Finley (you know) saved you from Met-land, or go away. That's it.


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