I don’t boo my team. On rare occasions I do in my head–like for Aaron Heilman or Steve Trachsel. But I never have out loud. Booing won’t help the dude pitch any better. So on opening day this season when Oliver Perez was introduced to resounding boos, I clapped. “No, let’s give him a shot!” I yelled. “Come on, Ollie, let’s see what you got.”
Well Ollie? I HATE what you’ve got. I’m not alone, I know, but come on. Oliver Perez is being so ridiculous, so selfish, so dedicated to doing anything he can to help the team lose, that if I ever see him in person on the mound again, I am booing my head off. Hell, I’d even boo at the TV. Oliver Perez, you get a boo forevermore. BOOOOOO.
Here’s why I’m going to boo you, Ollie. It started with going to arbitration. What a greedy sonuvabitch, the fans thought. Milking whatever he can to get more money. He better friggin’ perform. And you did perform. Sometimes well, more often terribly. I would have been happy to see you go after ’08. Good riddance, you greedy, inconsistent jerk. Of course I say that now. Back then, I was willing to continue rooting for you. I wasn’t a fan of yours, but you were a Met. And I root like heck for my team.
Guess what, Ollie. It is now impossible to root for you. You have made it impossible for even the most devoted Mets fan to have your back. Partly, this is because you failed as a pitcher. But mostly it’s because now you’ve failed as a teammate and quite frankly as a man. You’re sitting in that bullpen as the bump that might upset this team’s barely balanced log. The Mets are now handicapped against every team they face because they’re one man down. You are unusable. Dead weight. A burden. Taking the spot of a reliever who could otherwise help the team win.
How dare you not do the right thing, Oliver. How dare you not go to the minors for even a brief time to work on your mechanics. How dare you make it harder for your team to win. How dare you be both the problem and the obstacle to finding a solution. How dare you ignore what’s best for the other 24 members of your team.
You are crappy at your job. But now it’s personal. Turns out you’re just a crappy guy.