Be grateful to Joe Sakic, who owns the Avs two chess moves forward. Be grateful to Tim Connelly, who keeps the Nuggets swinging even when every punch doesn’t land.
Be grateful to John Elway, who wants to win just as badly as you do, even though that same pride too often blinds the Broncos from reality.
Be thankful that none of them are cowards.
Be thankful none of them get the rope to run their front office the way Jeff Bridich gets to run his.
The brain surgeon came out of the bunker late Wednesday afternoon. Bridich scheduled a conference call with the pagan media for the first time since Colorado’s regular season on Sept. 27 with a thud from 26-34.
We got a message at 3:18 PM that Bridich, the general manager of the Rockies, would be holding a conference call to … wait for it … 4.
On Thanksgiving night.
Becoming poetic on two pitchers with a combined career mark in the Major League from 20-29.
Chicken spit. Absolutely, utterly chicken spit.
What does it say about a man who stays in the shadows for weeks – nearly two months – only to come out and do a victory lap during an early evening sideways move the day before Thanksgiving while most of the Front Range was physical? or mentally checked out?
It’s called the story burial. Dodge the spotlight. That is why you will see fired on Friday at 4.55 pm. The fuzzier the deed, the closer you bring it to happy hour on the last day of the work week.
It’s PR 101. And the ultimate in corporate cowardice.
Nobody jumped on that conversation with axes to sharpen. Or sharp objects at the ready.
We wanted to ask about the rumors about Nolan Arenado. About how an 11-3 start in heaven’s name became a second season in a row in fourth place. About the reports of ugly financial losses, the aftershocks of a pandemic summer without fans. About where the Rockies are going now, as owner Dick Monfort actually shouted badly at season ticket holders late last month.
After the beat writers did a lap, Post deputy sports editor Matt Schubert asked a question about Monfort’s letter.
A deep breath. Followed by George McFly.
“Yup, hey, like I said, there are very specific things we need to talk about now in terms of the trading and the roster protection moves last week,” the Rockies GM replied hastily.
“In terms of that question, if and when something turns up in free agency, we’ll talk about it.”
Absolutely, utterly chicken spit.
The trade? So the Rockies, earlier in the day, traded pitcher Jeff Hoffman (career: 10-16, 6.40 ERA lifetime) and Douglas County’s Case Williams, another pitcher, to the Reds for pitcher Robert Stephenson (career: 10-13, 5.15 career ERA) and outfielder Jameson Hannah.
No offense to Hoffman, who shows flashes. Or to Williams, the Castle Rock Cannon. But that’s it? That is the agreement? No other topics on the table?
Happy Thanksgiving, clowns.
It’s a low comedy top to bottom, isn’t it? Unfortunately, the brain surgeon has pictures. Or something. When the NFL is about quarterbacks and coaches and the NBA is about the names on the back of the jersey, MLB is about general managers. As long as Bridich doesn’t move, nothing changes. The same manager. The same game plan. The same false dawn. The same false hope.
If our only assurance every spring is that the Dodgers and the brain surgeon can’t be touched, it’s not just killing a clubhouse.
That kills a fan base.
If Bridich claimed his hands were tied a year ago, when the baseball economy wasn’t torpedoed by COVID-19, what would the short-term forecast look like now?
Bridich knows which questions you want to ask. He knows you’re probably going to grab torches and kerosene when you hear the answers.
Or worse, ignore them. The way he would like to ignore you. Bridich should be grateful every day that you still care. Because they don’t.