Well, not in a baseball sense, because he’s having what is arguably the worst offensive year of a career that was already pretty terrible, and at 36 and without a single hit in more than six weeks, it’s pretty easy to see 2012 being Treanor’s last shot at the bigs. So when I say “the best,” I really mean “the worst,” and it wouldn’t surprise me at all if Tim Federowicz was slowly moving his things into Treanor’s locker as we speak.
But sometimes, as our less statistically-inclined friends are all too eager to remind us, what happens off the field is more important, and even if it’s just for today only, Matt Treanor is my new favorite Dodger.
From this morning‘s latest garbage piece from T.J. Simers in the Los Angeles Times, which apparently can only afford paragraphs with one sentence apiece:
That’s when someone yells, “Zip it up.”
Now I’m an old man, and every once in a while I forget.
But the voice is telling the team’s PR guy to “Get that clown out of here,” so I know Matt Treanor is talking about me.
“What’s your problem?” says Treanor, and I’m thinking, I’m not the one who hasn’t had a hit since July 26.
“Are you trying to tell me you have no joy in your heart?” I say to Treanor, never for a second thinking I would talk to a Treanor unless it was the athlete in the family.
“Don’t come in here causing problems about our attitude,” says Treanor, and folks wonder why I don’t spread good cheer more often.
I tell him the team is dead, but I’m here to revive it and remind them how important joy is to what they do.
“Get out of here,” says Treanor, a second later saying, “Is there anything else you want to talk about?” Hello, anyone home?
“Sure, but you don’t seem in the talking mood,” I say, and Treanor says, “I am now.”
Then he gets in my face and we’re belly to belly because mine is so big.
“What’s wrong with this team?” I ask.
“No comment,” says Treanor, and the whole team is watching because it beats taking batting practice knowing they’re not going to score anyway.
“Are you playing tonight?” I ask, curious if the Dodgers have opted to surrender.
He’s not, and credit to his teammates for not cheering.
He’s getting really upset, and I’m the one who has been stopped from spreading joy. He says it’s unbelievable the local paper isn’t supporting the team and I never write anything positive.
“I don’t think you need to come at Hanley like that,” snaps Treanor.
You mean, my man?
He tells me to meet him outside. I have a pass to get back in but I worry he might not. He says, “In the dugout.”
I agree, but need to chat with Mark Ellis. Ellis says he has joy, while Treanor interrupts to call me names that can’t be printed here.
In the dugout, Treanor swears a lot, puts a finger in my face and when a team official suggests he apologize, Treanor goes on an obscenity-filled rant.
All sins are forgiven, Matt. Retire that man’s number.