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Hold the champagne too, while you’re at it. This thing ain’t over yet. We’ve been talking about sweeps for days, and a third consecutive sweep we have. This just isn’t the sweep we had in mind.
With dramatic victory after dramatic victory, the Padres win seven straight in the heat of a pennant race to put themselves on the brink of a division or Wild Card crown. Milton Bradley comes back, runs into a teammate, who goes off the field in stitches, and the club is swept by a team closing in on them. Faster than you can say “Jack Robinson.” Coincidence?
And, as if almost on cue, Bradley goes ape-wire on an umpire, with yet another meltdown, and low and behold injuries himself in the process. Again, coincidence?
Also as if on cue, Bradley says it’s someone else’s fault, and his employers go out on a limb defending what is to any objective eye indefensible behavior.
OMG! The umpires made me do it, the umpires made me do it!! Those meanies!!! The umpires made me do it!!!!
Well, give me a bleeping break. Am I the only adult in San Diego who sees this for exactly what it is? We’re talking textbook Milton Bradley here. Milton Bradley 101.
Everything we’ve seen to date has been played out before, in baseball towns across North America. If you weren’t listening when I called it back in June, and you can’t see it now, I don’t think a visit to the optometrist would be a waste of your time. Those Padre-colored glasses need a new prescription. But, if you subscribe to the “winning isn’t the most important thing, it’s the only thing” mentality, then by all means, sound off.
I’m certainly not afraid to. Memo to San Diego management: it was a sellout to bring Bradley here in the first place. Defend him at your own peril.
I suggest you get the man his MRI, and follow-up with whatever treatment the doctors (the medical doctors, that is; not the psychologists) recommend. Then leave Bradley in San Diego, take the road, and win a spot in the playoffs without him. Scott Hairston will be just fine, thank you very much. Turn the page and take your best shot. If you should be so lucky, give the postseason roster spot to someone worthy of it.
— HOWARD COLE