Just two weeks ago in this space, I obnoxiously opined that local coverage of the Marlins was a load of over-hyped fertilizer inspired by an aggressive and hollow ownership team, stuff that any sensible baseball observer recognized as smoke, mirrors, and marketing. Bless their two-chambered hearts, with their 3-10 start and frantic on-field failures, the Marlins have made me look brilliant — not an easy task — by under-performing even their most severe critics’ projections. To reiterate: the team is at best a slightly better than .500 squad, and our South Florida media has been either hornswoggled or just too damn complicit to see through the curtains of smoke and fog Marlins management has blown up their collective asses and report the Truth.
Give the team some credit, though: they lead the majors in panicky players-only team meetings to wring their hands and scratch for solutions.
Look: they’re not as bad as they’ve started off. The will improve. It’s a young team, and they need to adjust to their smarter, more experienced competition. It will take this entire season. The nonsense about post-season success is pure fantasy, and any sophisticated sports observer would have labeled it as such. Too bad that level of commentariat is missing in local media.
Instead we have this crock of festering crap about firing the manager. Great plan. Inject more instability. As bad as this ownership group is, they’re not that inept, even if the local sportsholes start muttering about it.
Today they open a series against my Phillies, the worst team in the division, about which I can only say they’re playing exactly to expectations. This is an opportunity for the Marlins to get the feel of what it takes to grind out runs and dominate the game, notching a few Ws. The Phillies, who signed a secret pact with the Eagles to share the talents of TimTebow (he’ll split his time as a 4th QB for the Eags and designated hitter for the Phillies in intrasquad competition), have nowhere to go this season until The Contract (a/k/a Ryan Howard) is either cut or traded for a bag of broken bats and Valencia oranges. Their role this season is the bottom-feeding bait fish of the National League.
Maybe, just maybe, local writers and radio hosts will wake up to the scam they’ve signed onto and start behaving professionally. And maybe, just maybe, this summer in south Florida won’t be hot and humid.