So Long, John Farrell. We Hope You Had the Time of Your Life.

by Kolby Solinsky
Editor, White Cover Magazine


It’s really hard to blame John Farrell. After all, he was allowed to do this. If your parents tell you, “It’s okay, son. Have a cookie before dinner,” you’re going to do it. You’re going to mash that cookie with all your damn incisors.

On Saturday night, The Score and a few ‘Tweeters’ from inside the “friendly confines” of Boylston Street in Boston revealed that Blue Jays manager John Farrell is now the honcho — hefe — of the Red Sox.

Just like that. The snows of yesteryear, gone from this earth. And, it shows once again that if the Red Sox or the Yankees want something, they get it.

Just like it was the English Premiership, a baseball team can state their interest in somebody and the little guy has to fold. Sure, he can try to hold onto his assets and squeeze while they don’t dance with the hotter girl, but resentment will only grow. Farrell would have gotten upset. He would have coached the Jays with the same enthusiasm as when the Germans give money to Greece. Boston would have waited it out. They would have either had it this year, or the next.

And, Toronto has to fold. They have to cave. It happened with Roy Halladay.

Add to Canada’s anger is the fact that everyone around the deal — who’s not located in Toronto and will now have to settle for someone like Sandy Alomar Jr. — talks about it like there was no other team but Boston involved.

“Red Sox Hire John Farrell”. That’s ESPN’s headline for the story.

“Welcome back John!! Can’t wait to get back to work!!” That was Boston pitcher John Lester on Saturday night.

At the same time, it was never not going to happen, was it?

Once the idea is out there — once it’s a possibility — it’s going to happen. Said manager or player’s first priority is to deny all interest. “NO. I AM THE MANAGER OF THE TORONTO BLUE JAYS… right?”

Then, when he’s sure his current team isn’t too offended, he entertains the idea.

Then, the current team realizes they have a drifter on their hands.

Okay, let’s make a trade.

Well, that was easy. And, everybody wins! (Except for Toronto but, you know, can you hear a midget in a nightclub?)