Gone, Manny, Gone

Well, yesterday the final chapter in the long and torturous saga of the Boston Red Sox; eccentric superstar Manny Ramirez; and the obsessed, way-too-involved-emotionally-with-these-boys Red Sox fan belt drew to a close.

With inches to spare on the trade deadline, Manny was dealt to the Los Angeles Dodgers, a team owned, interestingly, by Boston native - and, presumably, native Red Sox fan - Frank McCourt. (Note to literary types: no, not that Frank McCourt.)

For those who don't follow The Olde Towne Team (obsessively or not), Manny may be the greatest right handed hitter playing baseball today. His swing is powerful and fluid, and when he connects - well, it's Green Monster magic at Fenway Park.

I've seen Manny hit a few dingers, and, with my sister Trish, witnessed his grande finale in a Red Sox uniform on Monday night, when Manny went yard with a 2-out in the ninth shot that did nothing to salvage the game.

I've posted before about Manny, and how I wouldn't want to have to manage him. (Why I'm Glad Manny Doesn't Report to Me.) That was in December 2006, when we were going through one of the manny he-loves-us-he-loves-us-not crises that characterized his years with the Red Sox.

In 2004, when the Red Sox won their first World Series in 86 years (and Manny was the Series MVP) Manny's little eccentricities and weirdnesses were all excused as (chuckle, chuckle), "Manny being Manny." Sometimes that's been a good thing. Sometimes it hasn't.

This season, it's been toxic.

We've had rife suspicion of Manny's deliberately dogging it on plays to demonstrate that he's disgruntled with the Red Sox. There's him slapping team-mate Kevin Youkilis in the dugout for displaying too much emotion after a strike out (and incident that was chalked up to testosterone display among brothers). And a far worse display of pique in which Manny slugged the Red Sox' 64 year old traveling secretary to the ground because the guy couldn't come up with 14 on-the-spot tickets for a sold out game in Houston. There's been bad-mouthing ownership. And rumors that his demoralizing behavior has been, well, demoralizing his teammates.

The last week or so, Manny's been wah-wah-wahing in the press about lack of respect, and how the Red Sox doesn't "deserve" him. (Well, that's true.)

As with most situations in professional sports, when you find out what R-E-S-P-E-C-T means to he, it's M-O-N-E-Y (despite protests to the contrary). An aging Manny wants a 4 year, $100M contract which, at his advanced age (36), he's not going to get from the usually oh, so, pragmatic Red Sox.

So Manny is gone, baby, gone.

So's a big management headache for Terry Francona and the Red Sox front office.  So's a big irritant for his colleagues on the field. So's a high annoyance (and often amusement) factor for us fans.

Over the years, I've managed an occasional prima donna and/or head case, and it's no fun. No matter how talented and productive they can be, they tend to drag everyone else around them down. You find yourself weighing their productivity and performance against their high maintenance and drag on the whole.

I generally enjoyed Manny over the years.

Sure, I won't miss tearing my hair out as he cakewalks down to first, rather than try to make a single out of a somewhat slight hit that every other ballplayer on the face of the earth would try to beat out. I won't miss seeing him take 3 pitches from Mo Rivera in the last gasp of a high stakes game against the Yankees. I won't miss listening to him bellyache about how he doesn't get any respect.

But oh, that sweet, sweet swing!