The best and brightest neighborhood in the Los Angeles sports landscape is a very different place today.
Mannywood has officially gone to hell.
The giddy streets are lined in shadows. The colorful houses are painted in lies. The friendly shops are stocked with juice.
The mayor is a drug cheat.
Manny Ramirez dropped a bomb on Mannywood Thursday, leveling the Dodger spirit, stripping the Dodger psyche, and robbing the Dodger safe.
He has been suspended for 50 games after testing positive for a banned substance, but it could be 500 games for all I care.
The Dodgers need to get rid of this knucklehead. They need to get rid of him now.
They can’t build their team on fakery. They can’t win championships with a charlatan. They can’t fall for his act again.
Surely there is a clause in his two-year contract that allows them to dump him for behaving immorally? Surely they can end a relationship with a guy whose betrayal cuts so deep, it deflates an entire team culture, from batting order to ballpark seating to billboards.
No, I won’t say I told you so. In earlier columns I warned the Dodgers against giving Ramirez a long-term deal because of his potential for combustion, but I never thought he would be suspended for something like this.
Nobody whispered his name as a juicer, and everybody’s name has been whispered. His body didn’t look like it belonged to a juicer, and I’m always looking.
I never believed in his flirtations with teammates and media, but I always believed in his training regimen and baseball acumen.
I was worried about him dogging it, not drugging it.
No more.
Now I think about the amazement I felt in watching Ramirez hit .520 last postseason and think, well, of course, nobody is that good at age 36 without help.
Now I think about watching the ball jump off his bat while driving in 53 runs in 53 games with the Dodgers last summer and think, absolutely, his increased coordination and endurance screams of steroids.
No, he did not test positive for steroids. He tested positive for human chorionic gonadotropin, a female fertility drug commonly used by athletes to restore the body after steroid use.
He tested positive in the spring, meaning, logically, the hCG could have been taken after a winter of steroid use.
Ramirez denied all of that, claiming he was given the drug by “a physician for a personal health issue.” Yeah, and the physician was a cousin who can’t be found, working out of a storefront that no longer exists? Yeah, we’ve heard that one before.
After years of hearing lame excuses from lollipop-muscled ballplayers, excuse us if we don’t believe one syllable of Ramirez’s story. A more potent defense would have been an official appeal of the suspension, but that didn’t happen, and that tells you everything.
Ramirez is the kind of player who would appeal a three-day suspension for throwing a helmet, yet he willingly accepts nearly two months on the sideline and the loss of nearly $8 million? That’s all I need to hear. He was caught red-handed, and now it’s the Dodgers who are blushing.
I’m sure someone will find some way to blame owner Frank McCourt in all of this, but don’t. The Dodgers needed Ramirez, they had to pay him something, McCourt was actually smart to only commit two years at $45 million.
There was no way McCourt or Ned Colletti could have known about the possible steroid use. They obviously heard no whispers either. Ramirez is a nut, but he was thought to be a clean nut.
The important thing is, what do the McCourts do now? Do they fight for this lost cause and defend him to fans who pay for honesty? Do they put everything on hold and wait for the return of a player who will be different when he comes back?
And believe me, Ramirez will be different. If he was using steroids, he will be off the stuff by then. His swing will be different. His coordination will be different. And, given that he has probably blown his free-agent payday next season, as well as potentially blowing his spot in the Hall of Fame, his attitude will be different.
The motivation won’t be so great. The fire will be dampened. Manny will probably be mopey.
So, fine, you can wait for that, which seems to be the Dodgers initial reaction. In the words of team president Jamie McCourt, “We will welcome Manny back upon his return.”
Or you can get smart. And you can move on.
You can celebrate what you have, a great young team in a lousy division. You can embrace them, promote them, believe in them.
Everyone was talking about how the kids now need to step up; well, um, everyone is already stepping up.
Andre Ethier, not Ramirez, leads the team in RBI. Ethier is tied with Ramirez for the lead in home runs. Orlando Hudson has scored more runs and collected more hits. Matt Kemp is doing things in the field that Ramirez could never do. James Loney’s grand slam against the Chicago Cubs last October was still the postseason’s biggest hit.
Unbeaten Chad Billingsley may be the best starting pitcher in baseball. In the bullpen, Jonathan Broxton has struck out 25 and walked four.
You celebrate that. You build on that. You trade to make that better. You plan on winning the division — and you will — with what you have, and what you can create.
If Ramirez comes back — if contractually you can’t get rid of him — you view him as an accessory. Every big hit is gravy. Every big moment is a bonus.
This can no longer be his team. This can no longer be his town. He can no longer be followed. He can no longer be trusted.
Take back his keys to the kingdom. Pull down his billboards. Cancel his promotions. Design a new campaign focusing on the entire team.
Board up Mannywood forever.
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