Local Cleveland politics must be rubbing off on Indians’ manager Manny Acta because his vernacular now sounds as if he is running for office. When asked about the Indians’ upcoming oversaturated schedule, Acta unleashed this golden quote (I can’t even make up something like this), “This is our job. We work, at the max, eight months a year. The guy that works in a factory has to go in every single day, including Christmas. This is what guys train for in the off-season and spring training.”
Putting aside factories and Cleveland no longer have a blessed bond, Acta is referring to guys like this:
Yeah, Ironman there looks like a well oiled, labor machine — a paragon of Modern Labor. If Modern Labor can punch the clock every day, then those poor, spoiled ballplayers can certainly play eighteen games in sixteen days to finish the season. If Modern Labor can lift its chins from its morning bowl of pasta to make it to the line, then the spoiled Indians should be able to come up with some clutch hits when the chips are down. If Modern Labor can work on Christmas (getting triple time), then those softie ballplayers can at least do their share to ease the burden of living in the post-industrial world by reaching deep down to bring home a championship. Modern Labor has the proper Will To Win; why don’t the ballplayers?
Acta just royally pissed off the Baseball Gods and the Water Nymph of Lake Erie with this sappy nonsense — mark the calendar, this is the day the 2011 Indians died. The weather forecast for the next six weeks in Northeast Ohio is pain, lots of it. The Tribe’s loss last night against the Tigers, coupled with the Browns’ pre-season loss was just the opening of the flood gates. When the water finally resides, all that will be left is Don McClean sitting on a statue in the ruined Public Square, singing that damn song for eternity.