The Miami Marlins aren't a baseball team, they're a lounge act.
And they're not one of the nightclub acts you line up to see. No, they're a faded 1970s lounge act, long after the genre lost its popularity, with a singer wearing an orange sequined jacket, singing Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby songs off-key while the lone waitress, whose hair long ago ceased to be blonde but has been frosted that way anyway, serves drinks to fifty-something men who are trying to pretend they don't have combovers.
This is all to preface this post, which I freely admit is going to be full of unreasonable dislike of the team from Miami. I can't stand the Marlins or anything they represent.
There, I said it. (And yes, I admit that a certain series in 2003 has a lot to do with this irrational hatred, but there's more. So much more.)
And the first thing I thought was, "Good! He deserves that!" And I can't stand LeBron, either, but good for you, LeBron.
Am I being too harsh toward Jeffrey Loria? Read what he did to destroy major league baseball in Montreal and see if you don't agree with me:
Jeffrey Loria’s reign of terror in Montreal began early in his stewardship with the Expos. Loria ended the Expos broadcast agreements alienating the local business community. His next move that caused concern for Expos fans was that he instilled his stepson David Samson, as Expos president. Samson in Montreal was like oil and water, the two never worked together. Samson’s inability to speak French, in a city where 80 percent of the population speaks French, upset the Francophone community.
Loria gutted the Expos roster of any major league talent, cutting the team's payroll, making the team nothing more then a glorified Triple-A baseball franchise playing Major League Baseball.
Then there's this affront to baseball logos:
And this affront to humanity:
Seriously, what are these people thinking? That's right: "tired lounge act." As if that's not enough, the team's marketing department regularly taunts the Chicago Cubs whenever they come to town; this one's from a 2009 series:
Cubs manager Lou Piniella was not amused when the Marlins on Friday night paraded a goat onto the field in front of the Cubs’ dugout between the second and third innings.
"Tasteless," Piniella said. "When we come here they always have some gimmick that basically doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know who dreams up these things. When they come to our place in Chicago, we don’t have fried marlin."
That wasn't the first time they'd done that, either; I can understand fans taunting or trash-talking, but the team's marketing department doing this? They've also insulted the Cubs (and other teams) with boorish scoreboard graphics; one can only hope they left these juvenile jokes at the football stadium they used to call home. (And never mind that when the Cubs were in town, Marlins home attendance at the football stadium would typically double. Some thanks.)
And as if that's not enough, the Marlins hired noted loudmouth Ozzie Guillen as manager; perhaps this year he can get himself in trouble with tweets in two languages. Then they traded for noted hothead Carlos Zambrano; what's the over/under on the date for Big Z's next meltdown?
Yes, the Marlins have added quite a bit of on-field talent this offseason -- Jose Reyes, Mark Buehrle and Heath Bell being the most notable acquisitions -- and have a chance to contend in the NL East, if Ozzie can keep all that talent under control.
Perhaps the Marlins can best be summed up by this quote from
Loria's stepson Marlins team president David Samson, recently quoted on the subject of the team possibly signing Cuban star Yoenis Cespedes:
"Aggressive right to the point of stupidity, but not quite there," said Samson, characterizing the club’s planned pursuit. "We think he’s a perfect fit for us, but it has to be sane."
"Aggressive right to the point of stupidity."
Now there's a perfect slogan for this hokey lounge act masquerading as a baseball team.