I suppose one of the less heralded benefits of being ungodly rich is that no one is going to tell you you’re not funny and you’re killing Fozzy Bear. Isn’t that how we ended up with John Mulaney?
Or maybe Scott Boras knows what a goof his yearly press conference has become and he’s just playing up to it now. It’s like those weird Jim Gray soliloquies after the Super Bowl on Westwood One (“Drew Orleans”), except it’s somehow way more up its own ass. What we can say for sure is that no one is writing these for Boras, and as he constructs these flower-killers in the previous weeks, you can bet he sits at his desk exclaiming that all of them are gold. We can only hope that he doesn’t call in his assistant to get their opinion, because the amount of humoring they must do would fuck up their intestines for months.
It’s probably best to just show you:
I’m sorry, folks, it doesn’t get any better from here. Also, as I push up the world’s biggest pair of glasses, Sean Connery wasn’t hunting for the Red October. He was on it. It’s Alec Baldwin you want, Scotty. Though these days, I can understand not invoking that name. I also want to believe that Boras didn’t need to go through Connery’s IMDB page and just knew all of Connery’s role offhand. I didn’t know anyone saw League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen. I thought it was one of those things that was just lasered out of everyone’s memory.
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What? Upsetting the apple cart isn’t an adage, it’s a metaphor. Though this is almost a poem or a riddle… or maybe both. I can’t even tell. Though Sandy Alderson being that completely confused old dude in the grocery store transfixed in the produce section isn’t really all that far from the truth.
I want to die.
You ever try and eat a steak at like midnight? It’s not fun, though you’ll have an epic time in the bathroom in the morning.
Go past the max!
Reach over the top!
Master your ass!
You know what? This one you kind of just have to be in awe of. I mean this is Strawberry Fields shit. Do you think he puts this on his monthly bill to his clients? Are they paying an extra quarter of a percent for this? I think Semien had better. The amount of stretching to connect all these metaphors, every yogi is in awe.
James beat me to this line, and I don’t know that Rodon has ever been considered cerebral, but if you think about any of these too hard smoke will come out of your ears.
Former Mets outfielder Michael Conforto had become the “King of Queens,” Boras said, but “in free agency now, he’s kind of like the ace of many GMs’ hearts.”
Come on Scott, “Queen’s Gambit” was the more up-to-date reference here. Pick up your game, buddy.
Shortstop Corey Seager is “like a rock,” Boras said. “Of course, his parents knew this. That’s why they named him Corey.”
I think what he’s getting at here is “quarry.” Because that sort of sounds like Corey. Except given Seager’s injury history, he can’t actually be less rock-like. Let’s find some other words that rhyme with Corey…(oh sorry, passed my quota on Simpsons references)
Boras did have some genuine points about tanking and how it’s ruining baseball, though he compared it to the Easter Bunny delivering rotten eggs. I don’t know who exactly the Bunny is in this metaphor, or who’s being delivered the eggs, but it doesn’t matter. The meaning isn’t important, it’s the construction of these words into the Pollock painting that they become every year during these. It’s postmodern, and if you look at it all at the right angle and distance it becomes a masterpiece that’s a sad commentary on our society. Which baseball kind of is, really.
You better soak it up, this might be the only baseball news we have for months.
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