Once again it is time to explain why Terry Bevington should remain the manager of the White Sox. I have taken this as an annual duty, right there with rotating my tires and changing the batteries in my smoke detectors.
Looking over the minutes of our last meeting, I see that I remain the only member of the TBLC (Terry Bevington for Life Club), and all I can say to that is more warm beer for me.
Nevertheless, I plan to have T-shirts and bumper stickers for sale soon, all proceeds going to the Mud Fence Society, a beleaguered baseball managers’ support group.
This has not been the season for which Sox fans had hoped, of course, nor the one they were promised. The season will not end Sunday as much as deflate, all the hot air finally out of the balloon.
Much of the blame, as usual, has been directed at “Big Bev,” who I must admit fits that designation more now than ever, and consequently is not quite as agile as he might be to avoid it.
But still I think Big Bev is at least a Famous Amos this side of Lou Piniella, and I don’t see anyone dissing “Sweet Lou” for his rather explicit waddle.
Bevington always is being condemned for his lack of communication. He simply is using common courtesy and not talking with his mouth full, which would explain both his pith and his girth.
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It isn’t that he is surly; he is merely unfilled, a two-fisted sort of diner.
Or to quote our spokeslump, Big Bev himself, “I’m not no silver spooner.”
After all, it had to be very hard to keep one’s figure and one’s mind on the flux of this long Sox season. If Tony Phillips wasn’t leaving, Ron Karkovice was being benched.
If Bill Buckner wasn’t being scapegoated, Ozzie Guillen was being tolerated. If Harold Baines wasn’t kissing off, Frank Thomas was kissing up.
If Roberto Hernandez and Wilson Alvarez weren’t being traded, Jaime Navarro was being lit up. If Albert Belle wasn’t slumping, Robin Ventura was limping.
If Jerry Reinsdorf was not surrendering, Ron Schueler was euphemizing.
And through all of this, who managed to remain exactly the same incredible creature he always was? Why, Big Bev, none other, the model of adaptability.
To quote our spokeslump, Big Bev himself, “My standards are day to day.”
Bevington is not only aware of his shortcomings, he makes sure every one else is, also. This shows a great capacity for sharing, and when was the last time Big Bev was given credit for that?
He is congenitally incapable of subtlety, in the same way that a wart hog is incapable of song. But, still, Big Bev tried to change, to become a media creature, full of phony pap and bilge. He was just not good at it, so the pap and bilge that he is full of is real.
Fans care enough to boo Bevington, which refutes those arguments that Sox fans are detached. Bevington keeps the fans alert, because they cannot be sure what goofy thing he will do next.
How can anyone say that Bevington does not know how to handle pitchers when he is willing to use all of them in one inning? Who says he doesn’t understand strategy when he will pinch-run his only left-handed pinch-hitter? Who can accuse him of not having the respect of his players when not one of them has laughed in his face. At least not without using a breath mint.
So the players didn’t want to ride on the team bus with Big Bev. More leg room for everyone. And, after all, the driver stayed.
I’m sending him a TBLC bumper sticker. Maybe a T-shirt.