During today’s four-for-five performance, I received texts from a couple of people about Will Rhymes (pictured above on the far left). “He’s trying to win you over.” “Your boy doesn’t look too bad, haha.” In fact, since his recall from Toledo after Carlos Guillen’s latest boo boo, Will “The Thrill” has gone eight-for-seventeen for the Tigers. I even conceded that he might not be as bad as I thought in one text.
Then, I remembered that we were playing the Indians, perhaps the only team in the American League featuring more border line major leaguers than Detroit. I remembered that Cleveland has had guys pitching this series that even Don Kelly has been feasting on. And I remembered that I’m not a f-cking moron. Nice try, though.
Will Rhymes has had 72 major league plate appearances. Small sample size, I know (pun intended). But in those plate appearances, he has an OBP of .314, an OPS of .663, an OPS+ of 78 (100 is average), a WAR of -0.1, and 4 walks. Wait…four walks? The guy has a strike zone the size of a Hot Pocket and has only drawn four walks? And this is the guy that every Tiger message board poster and psycho-Inge-fan wants to be our second baseman now? Am I the only Tiger fan in the world that cares about winning baseball games?
He’s not a horrible baseball player. But he’ll be 27 by Opening Day in 2011. He is below average and is not going to improve. And what of Scott Sizemore? Remember him? The guy that hit .308 last year between AA and AAA with 17 homers, a .389 OBP, and .889 OPS? The guy that struggled with the big club early in 2010, but has responded back in AAA by hitting .293 with 8 homers and an .837 OPS? Why are we dealing with a guy smaller than the bat boy slap-hitting and needlessly bunting balls around instead of getting a look at our real future second baseman?
And for the love of everything that is holy, good, and decent...do not EVER describe Will Rhymes to me ever again as scrappy, gutsy, gritty, pesky, a sparkplug, a throwback, a hustler, a grinder, a gamer, a guy that’s 155 pounds (most of it heart), a guy that does the little things, a guy that gets the most out of the least, a guy with moxie, or a guy with spunk. If you do, I will throw back my gritty spunk in your face after reading Hustler.
To me, he’s another in a long line of light-hitting, white, cookie-cutter, mediocre AAAA players that Dave Dombrowski keeps cloning and sending up to the big club in an attempt to drive me crazy.
Except from now on, I will be referring to this one as Tinkerbell. Ha.
Sigh. I miss Magglio. I can't even enjoy wins anymore.