Archives

IS THAT A TWO-FACED WEASEL THAT CRAWLED OUT FROM UNDER THAT ROCK, OR AJ PRELLER?

· Joe Sez, News · , , , , , , ,

AJ-PRELLER

Yesterday, Padres GM A.J. Preller was suspended for 30 days by Major League Baseball for bein’ a total jack wagon. (Translation: an underhanded, diabolical, deceitful, double-dealin’, duplicitous, deceiving, cheatin’, lyin’, two-faced weasel.) Technically, it was for keepin’ 2 sets of medical records on his players to intentionally deceive trade partners. But ask any GM on the short end of a trade with Preller and he’ll tell ya the guy is a friggin’ jack wagon, dirt bag, phlegm wad, ass hat or some other term fit for someone tryin’ to slip ’em damaged goods.

Not to be left outta the race for the Pants On Fire award, the Padres brass, consisting of Ron Fowler, Peter Seidler and Mike Dee said in a joint statement. “To be clear, we believe that there was no intent on the part of A.J. Preller or other members of our baseball operations staff to mislead other clubs.” Yeah, right. Dry that one out and you can fertilize both the infield AND the outfield grass at Petco. Twice. If there wasn’t any intent to deceive, why the two sets of medical records? Riddle me that, Batman. As ESPN’s Buster Olney noted in his piece yesterday, Padres athletic trainers were supposedly instructed to maintain two separate medical files on their players: one for the Padres and another for “industry consumption.” I have a little trouble gettin’ my head around baseball as an industry instead of a game, but either way, somethin’ stinks at Petco Park, and it ain’t cuz it’s the 7th inning on free chili dog night.

Am I surprised? Not in the slightest. Baseball, for whatever reason, can’t seem to get past its desire to cheat. Not everybody, obviously, but there’s always a few Barry Bonds types lurking in the shadows. What’s unusual in this instance is that Preller doesn’t wear a uniform … which makes him more like Marge Schott than A-Rod in the “gettin’ suspended for bein’ a D-bag” department. This ain’t the first time Preller’s conniving ass has been hauled into the commissioner’s wood shed, either. He’d barely set foot in San Diego in 2014 when the team was reprimanded cuz he broke baseball’s rules governing workouts. And before that, when he was still with the Rangers, he chalked up his first suspension for violatin’ international signing rules.

The guy has GOT to share a bloodline with Hillary Clinton.

Instead of playin’ by the rules, he’s fixed on seein’ how many he can break. And anyone thinkin’ this is no big deal is dead friggin’ wrong. The Sox — both White and Red — as well as Miami, all had dealings with the Padres under Preller’s black ops medical management, and in at least two instances ended up with injured players. We’re talkin’ deals where millions of dollars are at stake, not to mention the integrity of the game. (As if there’s any whiff of that floatin’ around in San Diego.)

And that’s what I can’t quite figure about Manfred’s decision. A 30 day suspension without pay? BFD. That’s like makin’ Preller stand in the corner until the bell rings. There’s virtually nothin’ goin’ on this time of year that requires his attention. Plus … I don’t know what the guy makes, but in today’s “show me the money” world of professional sports, I know it’s a number that comes with 6 zeros after it. Yeah, losin’ a month of it is a lot of money; like 5 or 10 times what I make in a year. But unless the guy has multiple ex-wives or a gambling problem, he’ll hardly feel it. Will a lesson be learned? I think not. His track record speaks for itself.

What’s really great about all of this is that the Padres are playin’ .425 ball and are 20 games back in their division. Hope it was worth it, Preller. Sure doesn’t look like it from my barcalounger.

Joe

PS. Now … I gotta get back to celebratin’ the Cubs clinching the Division. I know it was official yesterday, when St Louis lost (the next best way to do it other than beatin’ St Louis ourselves) but today’s walk-off was the icing, baby. #LetsGo

YOU CAN TELL THE SIZE OF A MAN BY THE SIZE OF THE THING THAT MAKES HIM MAD.

· Joe Sez, News · , ,

CHRIS-SALE-TEMPER-TANTRUM-2

You know what Chris Sale needs? A good long trip to the woodshed. Unless you’ve been in a coma the past few days, you already know that Sale was suspended for cuttin’ up his team’s navy-collared 1976 throw-back uniforms cuz he didn’t like ’em, and then got into some sorta shoutin’ match with someone from Chicago’s front office. Nice, Chris. Real mature. Oh … and with a ginormous helping of sarcasism, I’d like to say “nice job” to the parents of this major league bratski. Anybody who behaves like a 20 year old John McEnroe impersonating Carlos Zambrano doesn’t deserve to wear a Major League uniform, regardless of what era it comes from.

Temper tantrums from athletes are not new. I already mentioned Zambrano and McEnroe, but that’s just the tip of the ice berg, pal. How ’bout Billy Martin, Jonathan Papelbon, Serena Williams, Ron Artest, Latrell Sprewell, Pacman Jones? Oh yeah, and there’s the ever-lovin’ crown prince of pissed off, OJ Simpson. It’s a deep pool of boiling vitriol that meanders through all sports. But no matter which offending athlete or whatever sport they participate in, the professional equivalent of throwin’ yourself on the floor, screamin’ and kickin’ can likely be traced to a really stellar job of parenting.

It’s not like this was the first time Sale flew off the friggin’ handle in a fully armed F-22. I guarantee you it’s been happenin’ his whole life, without consequence. Spare the rod, spoil the child that grows up to be a Major League asshole pitcher.

B.B. Abbott, Sale’s agent said, “The only thing that matters to Chris Sale is winning. If he perceives that something is distracting from that or being prioritized over that, he is going to have a problem with it.” Uh-huh. Dry that one out and you can fertilize the infield at The Cell. Sale supposedly accused management of puttin’ PR ahead of winning. In this case, PR was being defined as having to wear a throw-back uni. Yeah … boy … that’s a total friggin’ hardship. I’d like Sale to work a couple of overtime shifts in a coal mine to find out the true meaning of dealing with adversity. Better yet, how ’bout a tour with the 2nd Platoon, Charlie Company in Fallujah? Good F-ing Lord, I’m sick and FRIGGIN’ tired of guys like Sale melting down over nothin’, and then havin’ a pooper-scooper like Abbott try and twist what happened into somethin’ rational.

By the way, if Abbott was right, and Sale really has a problem with stuff gettin’ in the way of winning, perhaps he oughta raise a little hell with his team’s general performance — a waaaaay bigger road block than a “fashion don’t.” I’m just sayin’. And if we were to suspend reality for a moment, and say that the ballistic missle, Sale, did activate his launch codes over a uniform gettin’ in the way of winning … I think the Sox are gonna have to start playin’ naked, cuz it doesn’t seem to matter which one they’re wearin’, W’s seem pretty tough to come by.

Anyway, from the cheap seats it looks as though Mr Sale thinks his crap doesn’t stink. Well, I got news for Chris. His particular post-dump scent could knock a buzzard off a shit wagon. He’s not better than the rest of his team. He doesn’t wanna win any more than the rest of ’em do. And wearin’ throw-back uni’s now and then is part of the friggin’ game. Everybody does it, yet he’s the only one who feels the need to melt down like a runway model cuz he’s unhappy with his outfit.

You know, my Dad used to say, “You can tell the size of a man by the size of the thing that makes him mad.” That means Chris Sale is about knee high to a fruit fly. Friggin’ prima donna cry baby.

Of course, I could be wrong. But I’m not.

Joe