Jealousy: Watching the press conference, seeing Manny playing grabass with Jeets and A-Rod, reading the quotes about how he’s so happy to be playing in New York and “it’s just so relaxed here, man”… it would push me dangerously close to nun-punching extremes.
Resentment: Even as he played whack-a-mole with Jack McCormack’s noggin, even as the stories bubbled up about him shutting down on his teammates, I still couldn’t get my hate on for Manny. I do, however, suspect that would change once he donned the pinstripes.
Despondency: You know it’ll be coming… the inevitable Manny walk-off during a Sox-Yankees mash-up. And I can already envision myself, curled up in the fetal position in a pool of stale Coors, scrawling “do not resuscitate” on my ass with a Sharpie.
Rapture: Being in New York means Manny’s just one June swoon away from a Post and Daily News savaging. I can almost see the “Ramiwreck” headlines now…
Indifference: The somber realization, sometime after August, that I was actually more upset when Mark Bellhorn signed with New York.
But as Cashman tells us, we probably won’t have to worry about it anyway.
