Oh, hell, where to begin.

Since my buddy Jason moved to Maryland several years back, we've caught a few games at Camden Yards when the Red Sox or Indians have been in town.  When it's the Red Sox, sometimes we'll sit out in left field, often in the front row, the better to observe all the mirth and magic that is Manny Ramirez, Defender.  I'm talking about pretty much the exact seats where Manny jumped up and high-fived that guy a few days ago.

Watching Manny the Defender live and in person is different than watching him on TV, because you're watching him all the time, not just when he's making a play or for a few seconds in between.  And when you're watching Manny the  Defender live and in person, what jumps right out at you is that he doesn't seem to be paying much attention to what's going on — at all — very much like a little league corner outfielder. He's bored, he's looking around, chewing gum or something, he's listening to music through his little earbuds.

Most amusingly, most of the time, he's not even wearing his glove.  At the end of a play, the glove comes off, and again, he doesn't seem to be paying too much attention to when the play is about to start.  Many times, when the pitcher is in his windup, Manny is still not wearing his glove.

So we would start shouting:  Hey, Manny!  Manny!  Ballgame!  Manny!  Ballgame!  Manny, there's a ballgame going on!  Right now!  Glove!  Put your glove on!  Ballgame!

Just to be clear, Manny was absolutely close enough to hear us doing this — although who knows how loud the music is blasting in his ears — and we found the whole situation deeply amusing of course.  It wasn't long before we had several other people joining in the fun of helping Manny pay attention, and the most we ever got out of him was a quick grin.  Like all ballplayers, Manny must be well accustomed to fans shouting who-knows-what at him at any given moment.

But watching the game last night, I had that same funny feeling — except it was a sick feeling, since it involved the Indians — and I just couldn't help thinking, does Eric Wedge realize that there's a pennant race going on?

Hey, Wedgie!  Wedgie!  Pennant race!  Wedgie!  Pennant race!  Wedgie, there's a pennant race going on!  Right now!  Brain!  Put your brain on!  Ballgame!

And then ... ballgame.

Just about anyone who's talked baseball with me can tell you, I'm not a fan of quibbling over managerial decisions.  Few managers are that bad or that great, in-game strategic decisions rarely represent massive swings of probability, and in making those decisions, managers have access to information about the players that we just don't have — for example, whose jock itch is really acting up badly today.  I've gone so far as to say that fire-the-manager is the lowest form of baseball discourse, both for the above reasons and also because that discussion tends to be engaged with quite a bit less intellect and attention to detail than the average guy gives to picking his nose.  So I end up downplaying the significance of a lot of moves, explaining others, downplaying the whole subject for the most part.

And yet, what Indians fan at this point cannot be irked by Eric Wedge?  By his my-kinda-guy biases hiding behind stringent professionalism, by his denial of reality with regard to in-game probabilities and long-term strategy, and now, last night, by his apparently not even paying attention to the game?

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