we're fixated on the guy who helped turn a 7-6 loss into a 10-6 loss.
I made my remark about Bonifacio randomly during the game, well before his error. Of course I have been extremely disappointed with the starting pitching, and Dickey in particular, and last night's loss is on him more than anyone else. But almost everything about Bonifacio rubs me the wrong way. It's visceral.
On his next appearance in the TV booth this was quietly alluded to, and Morris allowed that he would now be watching what he said. (Jerry had heard.)
I don't catch many of the radio broadcasts, but I caught one early in the season. Morris made a very tepid off-colour joke. Very tepid. The joke was more offensive for not being funny than for being, well, offensive. Radio silence ensued. Morris realized the error of his ways and apologized to Jerry and the listeners. Jerry, like the holier-than-thou father Morris presumably never asked for, responded by saying that the apology was well received and because of it, no more would be said about Morris's inappropriate quip.
I couldn't help think that right at that very moment, Morris realized that it was going to be an awfully long summer sharing a booth with Mr. Howarth.
FWIW, I actually enjoy watching Bonifacio run when he's got a full head of steam up and he's trying to score from first on a double or something.
Yes, there was one specific instance a month back maybe that I do recall enjoying. That was fun to watch, as it always is when you see a fast runner in full stride. And I think for Bonifacio, that's the allure that forgives his flaws. That speed has a sexiness to it that keeps him in the lineup, even when his shortcomings conspire to preclude that speed from often being leveraged.
And maybe that's part of my trouble with the man. He seems athletic (unlike Juan RIvera, say). He seems like he should be able to do things. But he most often behaves as if he hasn't a clue about playing the sport, like he was just this fast guy who got parachuted in and told to be a baseball player.
But anyway. Imagine a 21 year old kid, one with special hometown connections to his major league team, who comes to the major leagues after the All-Star Break one year to make his debut. And he arrives like a comet, a shooting star. He spends the rest of the season raking with the bat and absolutely dazzling everyone in the field. And the guy never plays that well in the major leagues again. Sound familiar?
Are you thinking about Jeff Francoeur by any chance, Magpie?
