Stoeten here– long time no talk, buddy! Anything interesting happen since the last time I wrote?
Wait, really? Boston? Didn’t even attempt to negotiate?? Mike Aviles???
Yeah… OK, I actually knew about all that, John. It was all over the news up here. You’re kind of a big fucking deal, actually. And not in the way that you maybe remember– and definitely not the way that you are to those bleating, bleary-eyed, white haired, jowly, red-faced, ruddy-nosed, pseudo-Irish Massholes you now consider yourself one of. Nobody here banking hilariously on your magic wand being able to fix the rotation’s most crucial shitbags, John– we don’t even have any of those. At least, not anymore.
And you know what, John? As not-terribly-difficult as it might have been to paint yourself more sympathetically and avoid some of the Category 5 shitticane you’re about to walk into, you fucked up, John. You fucked up like you were down three runs in the eighth inning with two outs, Jose Bautista at the plate and Corey Patterson on first. You shouldn’t have given yourself the green light, John. You were never good at judging that anyway.
When the shit really started hitting the fan you could have pointed to the Jays’ openly stated reluctance to talk about a contract extension with you. You could have mentioned Boston’s setting up of your son’s radiation treatment while you were in the Jays’ employ. You could have pointed out that the club had the power to keep you if they really wanted to– as they did the year before. They didn’t want you, either, John. Maybe not as much as you didn’t want them, but enough to have used it to paint yourself in a better light. And you sure as fuck could have not said “dream job,” or “If you recall, I was traded,” John. That kind of delusional, arrogant attempt to brush aside legitimate questions about what appears to have been a duplicitous, long-considered, orchestrated exit just makes you kinda look like a fuckface.
And I defended you, John! I believed that there was still hope that you could turn all the qualities that you were lauded for when you were hired– your thoughtful nature and willingness to adapt and learn chief among them– in to something that didn’t ultimately look so fucking hopeless on the baseball field. And, as far as what little us fans could tell, in the clubhouse. And when it came to micromanaging. Discipline. Lineup construction. Platoon splits. How to run the bases.
Frankly, John, the things you seemed best at– probably are still best at– were looking like a manager, speaking like a politician, and having an imposing enough physical presence to immediately command fuck-tonnes of respect for you to slowly piss away.
Now, simmer down, John! Simmer! This isn’t one of your pitchers suggesting you’ve never done anything to prove that you’re actually fit for the unbelievably less-important-than-most-realize job. This is me. This is Stoeten. And you know and I know, John, that everybody got what they needed and is better off for all the fucking horseshit.
Yet, even with that understood, everybody’s going to get on you about how badly you wanted out of town, your lack of loyalty, and how they think you made the organization and the city look bush league. They’re going to boo the everloving shit out of you, John. Shit, I’m going to boo the everloving shit out of you. As far as making anyone look bush league goes, I’m not sure that reaction doesn’t kinda do that at least as much as you ever did, but fuck it.
All the bullshit about you not paying enough attention to your duties as Jays manager is flat out dumb and unsubstantiated. All the hand-wringing about loyalty to a contractual obligation with a company that was willing to let you walk away is embarrassingly quaint. But stealing half the club’s coaching staff? Bristling enough at the notion you orchestrated the move to act like you had nothing to do with it? Acting like the fact that something was your “dream job” ought to be enough for everyone to swallow after weeks of playing coy when asked about it? And today, responding to Mike Wilner’s question about how what he expects tonight, with, “based on what you’ve encouraged the fans to do, it’s obvious”?
I mean… what the fuck is that? You’re kind of being a dickhead here, John.
It really didn’t have to be like this– and for someone who seems to have made his name on being able to look and sound the part, while not necessarily being able to act it, it’s a pretty surprising fumble at the goal line of your dreamy new life. Of course, having watched this team for your two years here, I’m sure there will be plenty more where that came from. I wish you a whole lot less ill will than a lot of those who’ll be at the game tonight, John– I’m trying really hard not to sway too far from the sorts realities of your situation that get brushed aside in the overly emotional reactions of some of my fellow Jays fans– but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you kind of suck. Or that you you didn’t say and do some shitty things on the way out of town and need to own up to that.
Or that it’s not going to be real fucking cathartic to boo the everloving shit out of you tonight. At least just once.
No hard feelings, though. Stay gold, Ponyboy.