If you don’t get the “Heyman hate” you must be fairly new here, or otherwise ignore his nonsense. Just wait until the offseason, he’ll make a donkey of his self at least a dozen and a half times. And if that’s the line set in Vegas, I’ll take the over, please and thank you.

But let’s remember who we’re dealing with. The Chihuahua is known (and detested) for stalking through the clubhouse and taking aside players, especially young ones, he finds irksome and browbeating them with threats of being sent down to Parchman Farm. It’s unfortunate that as the long shadow of Dave Dombrowski has receded and left Larry Beinfest’s reputation for rule 5 and scrapheap pickup wizardry shivering in the cold light of reality, and the once-proud farm system stocked largely with indentured mediocrities, that Beinfest has been sounding more and more like his Lilliputian suzerain – and more and more like the vocalization of the silent snarl of Scrooge McLoria himself. This is a front orifice that canned Joe Girardi, who arguably got more mileage out of less talent than any manager since George Stallings, for telling Scrooge McLoria to stop baiting umpires from his little throne in the field boxes.

So although no one hopes more than me than all this Slobbering Ozzie-for-Tweeter bumpf has nothing to it but the usual spowrts tawlk raydeeo balloon air hype behind it, this is one group of tinpot martinets and factotums whose capacity for sheer preening self-indulgent idiocy I am not quite prepared to write off completely…yet.

Of course Heyman didn’t have any to begin with.