I thought the one bit of info out of all the articles I've read about the Girardi-Loria fiasco that probably revealed Mr. Jeffrey's Sunday state of mind the best was this little throwaway line by Berardino:
"Roughly 90 minutes after the game, Loria and his fianc�e came rounding the corner..."
So his "fianc�e" was there? Hmmm, that got me thinking...OK, so he's the owner of a MLB team, but it's only the Marlins and he's only an art dealer, so he must still be in the process of impressing this girl, right? So when he sees a few calls of the umpire that gets him P. O.'ed, to show her that he's this Big-Time Owner that he gets to do whatever he damn well wants, he goes down to field level, with his little darling probably in tow, and starts yelling like a inflamed maniac at the umpires, knowing full well that he's the Owner and that all must stand back in Awe and genuflect at his Enormous Other-Worldly Owner-liness.
And then at that glorious point Girardi sticks his head out of the dugout and tells him to can the crapola.
How would he react at that moment? Well, I'm guessing like, 'Who does this 'employee' think he is, how dare he have the temerity to tell me to stow it, especially when I've got the future Mrs. Alimony-Recipient right next to me caressing my Bud Light?' And then he'd go off the deep end, and set up phantom news conferences, and have private chewing-out sessions, and then have team meetings to try to cover up the chewing-out sessions, and come with the team on their road trip to make it look like one big happy family, and have even more meetings...
And now Girardi sounds as if he's trying to take the blame for the whole mess.
Then again, I could be wrong.
No comments:
Post a Comment