Asses kicked. While You Wait.
What kind of a backwards-ass world do we live in when Deval Patrick can get locked into the Governor’s seat for another four years, but we still question what to do about David Ortiz?
I’ll tell you what you do. You exercise his option for 2011, then work to keep him in Red Socks for the next couple years. And then you have John Henry, Tom Werner and Ol’ Dirty Bastard deliver the suitcases of dough to Casa Papi with a squad of dancing girls, puppets and camels, while singing, “Baby, I’ve got your money.”
As Tomase points out in the Herald, since June of ’09, Ortiz has 59 homers, 183 RBI and an OPS of .901. He’s had just one bad month out of 10 in that span–April 2010, when he hit .143 with one homer. If you bet on sports, you could do worse than betting on David Americo Ortiz.
He was also one of the few players who didn’t pull an extended stint on the DL during the so-injury-riddled-it’s-almost-funny summer of 2010.
More importantly, the guy’s an icon in this town. Like a friendly, dark-skinned, oversized Yaz (which is, ironically, how I’d also describe my senior prom date). The photo above, by Kelly of Sitting Still, is like the goddam mission statement of the Red Sox in the twenty-first century: Relax. Smile. Kick the shit out of the ball. Repeat.
I’ve counted him out before. I’ve closed my eyes and screamed as he hauled his ample derriere down the line, trying to leg out an extra base hit. I’ve wondered aloud if those shoulders we all climbed up on in October 2004 weren’t taxed and spent.
But he just kept proving me wrong. And I’m not ready to see that goofy-ass grin over some other team’s uniform.
