What are you doing here, Nomar?
C’mon, it’s late and pitchers and catcher report next week. You’re too old to be showing up like this. I’ve told you already in the most Draperian way possible–life moves in one direction: forward.
Let’s face it, your pride wouldn’t let you accept a minor league contract or an invitation to spring training even if the Red Sox were to extend an offer. And there’s no money left, anyway. Mr. Epstein and Mr. Henry aren’t going to further stress the luxury tax threshold by signing a washed up veteran to a guaranteed deal. We had our time together, but it’s over now.
Stop saying those awful things about Marco Scutaro. Your jealousy is so transparent. It’s over. You need to go home. And don’t purposely leave those batting gloves behind just so you have an excuse to come back tomorrow.
You’ve only played in 120 games total over the past two seasons due to numerous injuries. When healthy, you weren’t particularly valuable to the Dodgers in 2008 or to the Athletics last season.
No, those pre-at-bat gyrations won’t work this time. We’ve all moved on.
Stop tapping your toes in the dirt like that. You can’t stay. What if Tug Hulett wakes up?
And don’t talk about Bill Hall like that. What’s he ever done to you? I know he’s not the sexiest utility guy out there, but he can play the infield and the outfield. And he hit 35 dongs a few years back. Don’t you dare bring up his 2009 OPS. He wasn’t well. You know that. You only started 17 games in the field last season.
I’ve told you a million times: you can’t platoon with David Ortiz. Yes, Mike Lowell is still here (he’s getting treatment in the trainer’s room right now). He’s going to know someone was sitting in his chair if you don’t get up.
You’re kidding, right? Left field when the team plays at home? Fenway Park’s outfield is small, but it still has some lawn out there. You hardly fielded your position at a stationary first base last year.
Watch you take batting practice? We both know that would just be a cheap thrill and we’d both regret it as soon as it was over.
I have to stop you before you again bring up CHONE projecting you for a 0.9 WAR this season. There aren’t 365 plate appearances for you on this team right now–even if you do stay healthy. I wish there were, but we just can’t go through all the questioning again.
The injuries. The reclusive personality. The pop-ups. It was a lot of stress.
Don’t you remember what everyone was saying about us in 2004? You hated the idea of “us.” You lost interest in our team. You never went out in our city like you used to in the old days. We had a fine time together last July, but we both knew it was temporary. A meaningless mid-week tryst.
This is all too much for this early in the season. We’ve got all these new guys that should make the team a contender well into the fall.
Don’t take it personally. Pedro’s been calling here, too, lately. I haven’t answered yet, though I doubt I’ll be strong enough to ignore him come May or June.
Fine, if you promise to leave, I’ll admit it. It would be grand if you found a way to play relatively well and bring value to the 2010 Boston Red Sox. You could get a few hundred at-bats and get the occasional spot start in the corner infield. It could be your swan song and a tidy bookend to an often misunderstood career. Yes, isn’t it pretty to think so.