Manny Being Manny

Manny Ramirez, who has done a pretty good job over the years of pissing people off while keeping his mouth shut, has managed to do it again, this time by opening it.

On Wednesday he was asked if he still had confidence in the Red Sox. He said he did, and then he added, "why should we panic? If it doesn't happen, so, who cares? There's always next year. It's not like it's the end of the world."

That's right -- a baseball player admitted that what he does for a living isn't the most important thing ever. Obviously, some people disagree, which is not surprising considering the high rabidity level of many in Red Sox Nation. Still, my favorite reaction has to be from my local paper's sports columnist, David Jones, who wrote today that he would rather have any of the Philles on "his team" than Manny Ramirez. The same Phillies who are, last time I checked, not playing in the LCS.

Look, I understand that Red Sox fans are casting about for someone to blame for the fact that they didn't put the Indians away in four. Never mind that the Indians tied the Sox for the best record in baseball; the Indians aren't the Yankees, and therefore they are obviously no match for the Mighty, Mighty Sox (who appear to be, as others have written, turning into the Yankees). So along comes Manny, who decides for some reason to talk to the press, and OH MY GOD, what comes out of his mouth but something other than the same platitudes we've heard a million times.

Here's something Daryl pointed out to me this morning that I find very interesting. Compare what Manny said:

"Why should we panic? If it doesn't happen, so, who cares? There's always next year. It's not like it's the end of the world.

to what was written about Clint Hurdle last week (warning, stuff gets heavy from this point on):

Manager Clint Hurdle seemed irritable. He cut his postgame press conference short when he was repeatedly quizzed about whether the loss was "debilitating" or "crushing."

Just another manager who couldn't take the heat?

Hardly.

"It was just kind of funny at that time because that day I had gotten a call from a mother at Children's Hospital that wanted me to come by and see her son before he was going to pass that night," Hurdle said. "That was debilitating."

And crushing?

"Crushing was when a doctor told me my little girl was born with a birth defect."

The nerve of Hurdle, telling the press that losing a baseball game isn't "debilitating" or "crushing" when you compare it to real life. Hurdle is much more eloquent than Ramirez, but both of them (along with, I imagine, just about everyone involved with baseball) realize this truth: losing a baseball game, even a playoff game, even the last playoff game of the year, isn't the end of the world. Life does go on, and whether that life is caring for your debilitated daughter or, as Jones imagines for Manny, sitting in your basement smoking a bowl, I'm glad to see a few people involved with the game acknowledge that.