SAN DIEGO — San Diego's MLB team has dumped Robinson Cano, who had three hits in 33 at-bats during his senior moment wearing the brown.
I'm beside myself, which isn't possible in a small space. How could the Pads release one of their best hitters?
After all, Cannot batted .091, 52 points above his age, only about .140 below the team average. Not bad, considering these guys swing like 95-year-old playboys.
OK, so we're joking around. It's baseball. Besides with great pain, how else can we look at Padres bats, the opposite of corked, among the worst in the game?
Forget the occasional offensive spurts, even against the stuff of a Corbin Burnes. Baseball runs 26 miles, 285 yards.
Bringing in the 39-year-old Cano was an act of desperation by general manager A.J. Preller. Nothing to lose, though. He was playing for the minimum ($700,000), is a good clubhouse guy, and perhaps he could have helped youngsters with his batting expertise.
But Cano didn't have a chance — and wasn't allowed to have one.
Luke Voit, after so many futile swings creating more bad wind than flatulent Mongo, at least has come around.
But the Padres' offense is boring, moves like a river horse, and dull doesn't cut it.
So, without Zola Budd to blame, who's at fault?
Recently, I've heard young hitting coach Michael Brdar is the culprit. He is? Michael comes highly regarded, as did the other 12 batting coaches (six since 2015) the club has had following Petco's 2004 premiere.
Greatly missed GM Kevin Towers once told me: "The toughest job in America is hitting coach at Petco."
Brdar is only 27, so maybe he can still hit. But he doesn't. He also knows hits can't come when taking called third strikes.
He's not the problem.
Petco? Tired of it being the bogeyman.
For the longest time, Eric Hosmer was the issue.
Eric isn't Lou Gehrig, but it wasn't him then and it isn't him now. He didn't recruit himself.
When Preller hired Bob Melvin as manager, it was a master stroke. But, if the Padres failed — and because of their fine starting rotation, they've managed to fingernail the ledge — manager no longer had a chance to be an excuse.
Preller has run out of alibis. This is his team. He once had the best minor league system in baseball, and yet not one everyday starter is fully home grown.
He can find arms. Bats? Not even in Petco's belfry.
He allowed Fernando Tatis Jr. to play unsupervised Steve McQueen in the Dominican, and is paying the steep bill. If not for Manny Machado, he'd be in the cellar with the roots.
There is little power. Hitting with runners in scoring position is horrible. Now the bullpen is smelling like a real bullpen, blowing leads after "quality" starts.
Peter Seidler's money has been spent by Preller, who has done nothing much but somehow get his contract extended.
It wasn't long ago we heard the Pads would be champions by now. The road hasn't gotten shorter for A.J. the bus driver, who may find himself being thrown under his own vehicle.
I don't fire people. But we've been through nine fingers. One left to point. At A.J. Preller.
