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On Frank's Departure

The thing I don't really understand about this whole Frank Robinson thing: why does he want a job? He's like 94 or something. Retire already. Play golf. Sample the world's cheeses. Join a rotisserie league. Better yet, join a fantay hockey league; you'll spend all your time trying to figure out what the categories even mean. (That's what I'm doing, anyhow. I'm in a hockey bloggers league that has 19 owners and 18 statistical categories.) Point being, Frank just doesn't need to work any more. From 1995-2000, the U.S. average retirement age was 62. When Frank Robinson turned 62, Ryan Zimmerman was 12 years old.

The Washington Post recently offered buyouts; I was not eligible, but I asked several times if they might make an exception and let me retire. If I was 71? I'd be taking my complimentary copy of Sports Illustrated's new board game "Don't Quote Me" and hitting the road. I mean, who wants to work that badly? In the past week Frank's been on a derailed train, watched one of his stars break his leg, watched his pitching coach battle with pneumonia, and stayed up until like 2:45 in the morning trying to finish up some work. Who needs that? (Read http://www.fredericksburg.com/blogs/view?blogger_id=14">Todd Jacobson's account of last night; fans apparently heard something weird was happening and headed to RFK at 11 p.m. Good thinking. Baseball-writing strongman Barry Svrluga is already in the office after filing his story at 2:45 a.m.)

In the meantime, bloggers ask Where Have You Gone, Mr. Robinson? and What's That You Say, Mr. Robinson?. (They still have no hopes of challenging "That's So Raven!" for the worstly overkilled headline of the month. Yeah, the Ravens are surprisingly good. Yeah, there's some TV show about some girl named Raven. Swell.) Anyhow, Banks of the Anacostia calls Frank "the glue that held these vagabond teams together;" Oleanders cals him a "brutal in-game tactician;" Marc Fisher says he's "not a good manager and never has been," and Capitol Punishment calls him a "crapbag manager."

Me, I can always get behind anyone who says this about another manager:

I lost a lot of respect for Mike tonight, as a person and as a manager. There's nothing he can say to me now. Nothing. I don't even want him to approach me. I don't want him to try to apologize to me. If he even thought about it, I will not accept it. I don't want anything to do with it.

Any thoughts as to who should be next? Gary Carter? Joe Girardi? The Phillies fan wearing the Sombrero last night?

By Dan Steinberg  |  September 29, 2006; 11:02 AM ET
Categories:  Nats  
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