Let me start with an apology of sorts to our little Tinkerbell, Will Rhymes. Will is doing an okay job in his first taste of the big leagues, hitting around .300 and not being too much of a Raburn on defense. He’s definitely done better than I expected him to. Don’t get me wrong…I still can’t stand him starting with Scott Sizemore around, but that’s another story. Point is, sorry, Will. You probably don’t deserve all the scorn I send your way. That kind of stuff should be left to Don Kelly and Brandon Inge.
But this here isn’t really about the runt of the Tiger litter. This is about the lazy, cliché filled way that the media talks about the guy. I hate when I’m trying to unwind from work and then I read something that annoys me to the point of wanting to punch a baby bunny.
Lynn Henning had a perfectly nice piece on Scott Sizemore going, and then we get this:
Sizemore's prime competition is fan favorite Will Rhymes, and for good reason. Rhymes hustles, scraps, gets a couple of hits every other game or so, plays a decent second base, and is one of those 27th-round draft picks who develops at age 27 into a valid big-leaguer.
Hustles! Scrappy! If I didn’t know better, I’d think that Mr. Henning was talking about the Great High Priest of short, crappy ballplayers himself, Mr. David Eckstein! If only we could get that dirty Santiago guy to actually hustle or scrap.
Scrappy. The next guy that calls Rhymes “scrappy” gets a f-cking fork stuck in his eye.
But he’s not done:
Rhymes has talent and will play in the majors. But if Sizemore comes through as anticipated, and with Ramon Santiago under contract next year, Rhymes can help another club in need of a peppery infielder with legitimate skills.
Now I admit, the idea of Rhymes leaving Detroit and playing for another team gives me a special feeling in my crotch area. But I’m talking about the word, “peppery”. Why does the fact that a player is short inspire these guys to describe them that way? It’s giving me brain cancer, kids. I swear.
Let’s go over them once more: Scrappy. Gutsy. Plucky. Pesky. Sparkplug. Throwback. Hustler. Grinder. Feisty. Gamer. A go-getter. All heart. Has moxie. Spunky. And now peppery.
One final note. Austin Jackson has quickly become one of my favorite Tigers that I’ve had the pleasure of watching over the years. I just love the guy. He doesn’t have a lot of power, though. And he’s really skinny, well under 200 lbs. He hits around .300, with many singles. He hustles on every play, whether in the field or running out a grounder.
Yet do you ever see him being described as “scrappy”, “pesky”, or “peppery”?
No. Something isn’t