Weaver, which is about as high of praise as I can give.
I will always consider it a professional disappointment that I never got to share my love of baseball with you – and you with your infinite seam wisdom with me, but I’ll consider that a circumstance that was unavoidable.
I spoke truth. You had to hide lies.
You did it well!
My lasting personal image is how you always blew me off or ran from me at the annual Orioles Hall of Fame luncheon. I actually looked forward it to just to see that awkward look of a fresh fart on your face when you saw me!
You were a company man ‘til the end, Buck! A good soldier!
You treated me just as poorly as the Angelos family would’ve wanted you to so I have no professional experience with you or any need to kiss your ass as the door hits you en route to Miami or wherever they’ll want your genius in 2019.
You’ve been here eight years and I can’t think of one negative word written or said about you amidst any of the winning – or losing, other than for one really bad hour in Canada on an October night.
But your last act is always the one they’ll remember.
Ubaldo Jimenez. Edwin Encarnacion. Zach Britton on the pine.
Oh, and one hundred and fifteen miserable losses as an encore and a dessert.
Buck, it’s been a great run.
But it was time.
You know it. They know it. We know it.
But don’t worry: this will be the one place where they won’t be winning after you leave.
And even though you were always a jerk to me, I’ll miss you when you’re gone. You were the only good part about MASN! (Well, besides Palmer, of course!)
Who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll even pull me up and tell me some of the sordid tales of this eternal shit show.
P.S. (They all do…because I’m the only one keeping track of the truth!)
