Absolutely Asking For It

Today in Oakland, my cellar-dwelling (43-58, 17.5 out in the AL West) fading favorite team did a useful little fire sale trade, by sending Orlando Cabrera to the Twins for prospects. (What did they get? What does it matter? The last time Billy Beane won a trade was three Michael Lewis books ago. But O-Cab is old, so, um, young guys. Yay, trade.)

Rather than give the now open job to no one's idea of a shortstop in the ancient and inadequate Nomar Garciaparra (.688 OPS) or the truly horrible Bobby Crosby (.637 OPS), the team decided to bring up former first-round pick Cliff Pennington, who probably isn't a major-leage player either, but is, at least, younger and with the possibility of hope. Here, for the record, is Crosby's reaction.

"It's an absolute joke."

Um, Bobby? A little clarity here. Would the joke be how you have somehow managed to suck out 2,342 career ABs with a .306 on-base percentage for an organization that used to, well, value guys that got on base? Or might it be that of your 59 career home runs, 22 came in 2004, AKA the only year when anyone had any hope that you were actually a major league ballplayer?

I know, you're just having a tough year at the dish. Oh, wait, actually your career OPS (.682) really isn't any different from this year, or last year's .645, or 2007's .619, or 2006's .636. Actually, you're one of the most consistently awful hitters in all of MLB, which is why your team chased Raffy Furcal in the off-season, drafted Pennington, signed Cabrera, and probably have spent most of the last three years sticking pins in your bobblehead.

Or perhaps it's your utterly ordinary defense, pedestrian at best stolen base numbers, and your inability to stay healthy? Because I think the latter is the only reason why even the A's have kept trotting you out there for lo these many years, given that anyone with a fantasy team has long since steered a wide berth from you. Or did you think that the 1% ownership in Yahoo fantasy leagues might have been just, I don't know, proof that the rest of the world is in on the joke?

If I were Billy Beane... well, Crosby would have been out on his ass years ago, because even when it looked like he might have a career, there were big-time holes in his game. (Those holes would be, that, well, he does nothing well.) The A's would have been immensely better off keeping Marco Scutaro, currently having a career year as a truly effective leadoff hitter, in Toronto over this sack of garbage.

But this quote would be the last straw, especially for an organization that wasn't shy in showing the door to people like Jose Guillen or Milton Bradley. Unlike both of those guys, Crosby in no way resembles a useful baseball player, and hasn't for years. He also embodies the second half of this decade, in which my team has been increasingly less watchable due to an utter and intense lack of offense, more than anyone else on the roster.

So, Billy, please relieve poor little Bobby of the burden of this joke, this travesty, this insult to his standing. I guarantee you that of the myriad number of moves that haven't worked out in the past few years, this won't be one of them.

And Bobby? Please *do* let the door hit you on the ass on the way out. At least it would give the fans some form of hitting to remember you by.