…or why Jim Riggleman should watch more Seinfeld.
I declare this The Summer of Riggleman
First of all, if you don’t know who Jim Riggleman is I don’t blame you. We’re talking about baseball here, so unless you still use a typewriter, wear your socks up to your knees, or sit in front of the computer all day and play fantasy baseball, you probably don’t know who Jim Riggleman is. I know him from the late 90s run with the Cubs and Sammy Sosa, and his ability to go through talented pitchers like underwear in the dead of summer.
He made himself known this week by walking out on the Washington Nationals after they refused his request to meet about a contract extension.
What was odd about his resignation was the timing. The Nationals were coming off a stretch in which they won 11 of their last 12 games, and moved above .500 for the first time since 2005. He had a one-year contract at $650,000 for 2011, with a club option at $700,000 for 2012, which is packing peanuts compared to other MLB manager salaries. The Nationals had yet to show interest in picking up the option for 2012, and so Riggleman did what he thought best: he quit.
My suggestion for Jim Riggleman is to pull a George Costanza. He should go into Nationals Park on Monday morning and sit down at the conference table and act as if nothing happened. As if he never quit. He should greet all the staff on the way in. He should go and visit the players, watch batting practice, hell even sit on the bench through one of the games. And if anyone asks, he should say it was just a joke.
If that doesn’t work, at least he has all summer to think about his decision. He could read a book from beginning to end. He could play frolf. Frisbee golf. Golf with a frisbee. He could taste the fruits and let the juices drip down his chin. He could proclaim this: The Summer of Riggleman!
But when I think about it, Jim Riggleman probably wasn’t watching a lot of Seinfeld because back in the 90s, he was watching this man.
No, not Desi Arnaz. Sammy Sosa.
You know, the guy who captured our hearts and minds with Mark McGwire in the home run race of 1998 did steroids, got hit in the head with a baseball and then disappeared from baseball, only to turn up years later as a Desi Arnaz body double.
Ultimately, I don’t blame you Jim. Your lifetime record was 662-824 with no foreseeable future with the franchise. You hit a winning streak and tried to cash in with a club that has the potential to be a playoff team in the future. The problem is, you’re Jim Riggleman. You’re the equivalent of Ethan Embry in Can’t Hardly Wait, except Jennifer Love Hewitt realizes that you’re really not going to work out, and so instead of breaking up with you, she passive-aggressively waits for you to end it. Damn, that was 1998 too.
Well Jim, hope you enjoy your three months off and the frisbee golf…
