A Little More On Bedard

I’ll make this quick, but I was thinking about my last sentence; the one about how I don’t really much care about the moves of yesterday.  That got me thinking, specifically about Bedard.  Why DON’T I care?

I really should, you know?  The guy symbolizes all that is fucked up about the Seattle Mariners (through no fault of his own, I readily admit).  We’re STILL, two full seasons after the fact, hampered by deals Bill Bavasi made in his tenure (most of that hampering is in the name of Milton Bradley, who was acquired for Bavasi Bust Carlos Silva, and who is on the books for 1 year at an insane amount of money; something like $13 mil).  Probably the most complained-about move of the Bevasi era is the trade for Erik Bedard for five prospects (even though, I would argue, trading Shin Soo Choo for a turd sandwich was probably the most enraging).

Baltimore got Adam Jones, a top-notch left-handed reliever, an up-and-coming starter, and two other guys who are probably contributing in their own ways.  We got a guy who played hurt a half a season, went down for the count, played hurt for another half a season, went down for the count, was re-signed while still down for the count and never got back up, and now here he is re-signed again while still down for that same fucking count.  Why aren’t I upset about this?  Why aren’t I complaining about the foolish Mariners brass who won’t let the fucking thing die already?

Well, I’ll tell you.  Because in those two half-seasons, Erik Bedard was pretty fucking good.  Our lasting memory of the man (leaving out the men we traded to get him) is of a bulldog who was nails on the mound.  Who gutted through tough games with a bum arm and still managed to put up pretty damn good numbers.  This isn’t like Carlos Silva sucking, getting injured, sucking, getting injured, then being re-signed.  You run crap out of town because they stink like crap!  You give multiple chances to guys like Bedard because you know that when they’re not having surgery, they’re going to win you some ballgames.

In short, the not caring isn’t the same thing as not accepting.  It’s basically my defense mechanism against being emotionally battered again by the fantasy of a Felix & Bedard 1-2 punch.

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