ShareThisAll you can do is laugh.
But first put on your Manny wig.
All's finally well in Los Angeles, where the meandering saga of the Dodgers vs. Manny Ramirez-Scott Boras contract negotiations ended exactly where they began four months ago. Two years, $45 million.
At least all's well if you don't count pitching. The only thing anyone who wears Dodger Blue cared about all winter was whether the front office would pass the Manny Test.
Mission accomplished.
Credit owner Frank McCourt and general manager Ned Colletti for correctly gauging the market, staying patient (at least until McCourt's mini-tantrum last week), ignoring the disinformation campaign from Boras and re-hooking the only everyday player Dodgers fans have really cared about since Mike Piazza was deported, mouth agape, in 1998.
The Dodgers played chicken, despite Boras' warning, and won.
No other team was interested in rewarding Manny's unpredictability with a long-term contract, leaving him to the one organization whose fans had attached themselves like burrs to his Superman cape.
We have to admit, it was a mesmerizing three months last summer. Ramirez produced an incredibly robust, clutch-hitting stretch that cast him in the role of franchise savior.
He played 53 regular-season games and had 53 RBI, with 17 home runs and a .396 batting average. Then he had a better postseason. While helping the Dodgers win a playoff series for the first time in 20 years, he hit .520 in eight games, with four homers and 10 RBI -- even though he was being pitched around. He walked 11 times.
It was riveting. Even manager Joe Torre and coach Larry Bowa campaigned for his return this winter, virtually admitting that you don't have a diamond ring if there isn't a diamond.
Homer-types in the L.A. broadcast media agonized daily over the stalemated talks. By the time spring training began, teammates were using reporters to urge him into camp.
Well, good job everyone. He's on board.
Now, about that pitching staff ...
While everyone was lost in the Manny haze, the Dodgers' starting rotation and bullpen fermented into a vinegary stew. Oddly, an organization that has always prized pitching over hitting took its eye off the fastball.
Their pitching raises more questions than a new cell phone in my hands. Is Chad Billingsley a staff ace? Is Jonathan Broxton a reliable closer? If Randy Wolf's left arm hurts, will Jason Schmidt have sympathy pains in his right arm? What's the correct spelling of Ramon Troncoso?
But never mind that. Everyone's overriding wish came true. Hopefully for the Dodgers, even Manny is happy, because if he isn't, well, good luck.
The pressure now shifts entirely to Ramirez, who turns 37 in May. He has raised expectations, but can't possibly match last summer's impressive binge over the course of a six-month season.
He not only hit like Babe Ruth, but he also entertained like him. For the first time in his career, he was a big puppy with the media, and, in turn, endeared himself with fans.
He hustled on the bases like he'd been possessed by Pete Rose. Wow! In left field he miraculously avoided the "blooper" reels. Who knew?
And if he does all of that again into October, he gets to opt out of his contract, and the whole show starts all over.
Ugh.
(Contact Gregg Patton at gpatton<at>PE.com.)
(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, www.scrippsnews.com.)
columnMust credit The Press-Enterprise of Riverside, Calif.
