The biggest surprise is the simple fact that this isn’t a surprise at all. I don’t know if there was a single person, from ownership, to the players, to the media, to the fans, to Manny himself, who didn’t think that it was going to end exactly the way that it did.

Manny quitting and leaving town with more bad memories than good.

The Dodgers got him for nothing, bought his “I want to help the team” act, gave him a fat deal, and started to sell wigs. Win-win-win.

Then he went Manny. Drug suspension, stopped hitting, stopped trying, got hurt, stopped trying, got hurt again, stopped hitting, stopped trying, stopped hitting, and started to sabotage the team, most notably by getting tossed in a game after seeing only one pitch.

Adios, Manny.

No hard feelings. Everyone knows your deal. You are what you are. A fantastic hitter, a Hall of Famer, a drug cheat, and quite possibly one of the game’s worst teammates. When you are going good, and getting what you want, you are a decent guy...kind of. When it goes bad, you hide, you stop talking, you quit and show your true colors.  You become the front runner you are at your core.  A 'me first' player who doesn't give a damn about winning baseball games, only getting paid.  It doesn't make you a bad guy (actually it does), it just makes you Manny Ramirez.

Anyone who musters up any anger or frustration about his stint in LA is either faking it or stupid. This was a lock. This was as certain as his bat slowing down after he stopped taking his birth control pills.

Enjoy Chicago Manny. No hard feelings from here in LA. Just don’t expect any warm ones either.

Strasburg looked to be a once-in-a-generation flamethrower, a guy who was going to make All-Star games for the next 10 years; win 18+ a year, and punchout out 12 guys a night. Now, all of that is up in the air. If you like baseball, this sucks.

Yes, guys come back from Tommy John surgery, and there is even an argument that guys come back better than before after having the procedure. Maybe. I don‘t think he needs to be much better, but oh well.

This shouldn’t be an ‘I told you so’ moment. It shouldn’t be, but it is. This is exactly why all the hype, the hysteria and the insanity surrounding his arrival was not only premature, but stupid. More guys get hurt than don’t. More players flame in spectacular fashion than turn out to be the next Nolan Ryan or Tom Seaver. There’s a reason we all remember Seaver and Ryan as well as we do and scratch our heads at names like Todd Van Poppel, Brien Taylor and Mark Prior. There are a lot more Dave Zancanaros than there are Nolan Ryans.

And of course, the final wrinkle in this entire Strasburg mess is the moron Rob Dibble. Dibble, best known for having a giant mouth and small brain, was calling Strasburg a puss after he left the game recently.

"Okay, you throw a pitch, it bothers your arm, and you immediately call out the manager and the trainer? Suck it up, kid. This is your profession. You chose to be a baseball player. You can't have the cavalry come in and save your butt every time you feel a little stiff shoulder, sore elbow.

That’s why he’s a jackass and not a doctor.

If Dibble weren’t Dibble, and didn’t have an IQ right around room temperature, he would be digging a hole right now considering how stupid those comments were.

Maybe that’s the very small silver lining in an otherwise enormous dark cloud; that Rob Dibble has been confirmed as one of the dumbest people in baseball. Again.

On Saturday, it was reported that Scully would have an announcement after Sunday’s game about his future with the team. Every Dodger fan's worst nightmare is the day that Vin Scully decides he isn't going to work anymore, and is no longer going to call Dodger games. It looked like Sunday was going to be that day. Thank god, it wasn’t.

He announced that he will be returning in 2011.

That would be 10 million southern Californians sighing in relief. He is the only reason to follow that team right now. Their star players are less than compelling; their ownership is hated by most; the team is closer to last place than it is to first; and the only thing that gets people to turn on those games is Vin Scully.

If Scully called little league games from Northridge, most people would tune that game in, instead of the one being played in Dodger Stadium.

Yes, it’s that big of a deal. Yes, he is that important. Yes, he means that much to millions of people who have never met him but consider him a part of their families.

And we get to listen for another year.

Even during one of the more pathetic seasons in recent memory, in the middle of a shameful, ugly divorce between ownership, Dodger fans just found out they are having another very good year, and will again in 2011.

He will be done for the rest of the season and the Mets are exploring the possibility of terminating the remainder of his contract, which is valued at over $25 million over the next two years.

Good.

It will never happen. Never. That said, it should. It’s hard to argue on the behalf of billionaire owners and corporations, but they have no teeth in these situations. None.

Francisco Rodriguez did something colossally stupid; it damaged his team; and he should not get his money. That’s how it should go. He is paid to pitch and now he can’t because he thought caving in an old man’s grill was a better use of his thumb than throwing very hittable sliders.

K-Stupid will get away with it too. The players' union never loses these cases. Their members get to do whatever they want, no matter how stupid or criminal, and continue to cash checks. Baseball doesn’t need to go back to the pre-Curt Flood days, but it wouldn’t kill anyone if the owners could actually punish stupid, violent players.

You give a guy a huge deal, and he ends up being crappy, that’s the chance you take. But if the guy puts himself out of commission because he can’t resist the urge to slug a family member, you should be able to fire his ass.

K-Dumb shouldn’t get shown to the door because he has lost it (he has), that’s just an added benefit. If players don’t want to be worried about getting jammed out of guaranteed money, don’t punch people, don’t get arrested, and don’t violate your contract. Follow that, and it is all good.

1. You argue with your bullpen catcher before entering games. (Francisco Rodriguez argued with bullpen catcher Randy Niemann in May. FACT)
2. You argue with team officials who are eventually fired from the team. (Rodriguez argued with Tony Bernazard who was eventually fired from the team. FACT)
3. You nearly fight a member of the Yankees before a game after arguing the previous day in the media. (Rodriguez argued with Yankee pitcher, Brian Burney in 2000, before the two were separated. FACT).
4. You are described as “excitable”. (From SI.com...the excitable, 28-year-old pitcher signed a $37 million, three-year contract with the Mets after saving a record 62 games with the Angels in 2008. He is 4-2 with 25 saves and a 2.24 ERA this season. FACT)
5. You dot your father-in-law’s eye and get arrested for assault after kicking his ass in the team’s “family room.” (Rodriguez was arrested late Wednesday night and then suspended by the team for two games after fighting his wife’s dad in front of other teammate's friends and family. FFFFAAACCCTTT!)

Hey, getting along with the in-laws can be a challenge. There’s a reason all of those bad jokes exist. But giving him a beat down in the family room? Maybe not the best idea. And really, what’s a better way to show your wife that you love her than by assaulting her dad?

Also, I need to know, did he do that stupid dance and point to the sky thing after closing pop’s eye? I sure hope so.

Stop being so ‘excitable’; stop fighting your bullpen coach; stop fighting team executives; stop fighting other players; and most importantly stop fighting family members. Maybe just, I don’t know, stop fighting.

Or in the words of the immortal Lou Loomis from Caddyshack...

What’s that sign say?...No Bare Feet.

What’s that sign say? ...No Fighting.

What’s it mean?...No Fighting.

As always, Caddyshack has a line for all of life’s best moments.

Better yet, hang up the phone, change your number and maybe even your name. If you don’t, then you will be their next victim, following in the footsteps of Kobe Bryant, and most recently, Los Angeles Dodger's All-Star, Andre Ethier.

Someone signed off on these? More to the point, someone who wasn’t out to destroy Ethier, signed off on these? He looks like Ricky Ricardo in one shot, and a disturbed, (more disturbed?) Willy Wonka in another.

Bad enough that Kobe did it. You could argue that he got bad advice(if anyone actually gives Kobe advice), and that he didn’t think it would turn out quite so, so, so strange. What’s Ethier’s excuse? When the wardrobe person said, “Hey Andre, I know you appeal to a very masculine, very blue collar sort of audience; so I was thinking, let’s say we throw on some form fitting white leather gloves; give you a long wooden stick; flip-up the collar on a Willy Wonka jacket; maybe a sky blue bow tie; and then you stare at the camera like a freak. How’s that sound?”

And that pic was the least alarming of the bunch.

Matt Barkley, Torii Hunter, and whoever the best player on the Kings might be, (Gretzky?, Dionne?), you have been warned. DO NOT follow Andre’s lead!

Manny Ramirez may be a malcontented, injury-riddled drug cheat, (he is); Matt Kemp might be a lazy, thin-skinned, underachiever, (he is); and Scott Podsednik may suck (he does); but at least none of them have ever done this.

Modern sports have become so specialized that it’s almost impossible to find a player in any sport that does two things anymore.  After the designated hitter (is my man Harold Baines in the Hall of Fame yet?) hit the scene the floodgates were open.  These days we have the nickel back (not to be confused with those hot Canadian chart-toppers you’ve been seen pumping your dorky fist to in traffic), LOOGY (Hong-Chih Kuo!) and the all-important goon (thoughts and prayers to the Probert family).

The time has come for a new specialization in all sports – the designated celebrator.  Athletes make too much money and organizations have too much on the line to have their investments injured by an errant champagne cork, or in this case shaving cream masquerading as baked goods.  Forget the third-down back, this could be the most necessary of all the new-school “specialists.”

From the Miami Herald:

Chris Coghlan might require surgery for a left knee injury he sustained on Sunday when he pied a teammate in the face following a walkoff victory on Sunday. Coghlan was placed on the 15-day disabled list after an MRI revealed he tore the meniscus cartilage in his left knee.

The tipping point was probably Kendry Morales unfortunate tibia-cracking plate leap (judging by this dude’s physique, I’m guessing it wasn’t the first time he hurdled out of control towards an awaiting platter), but at least he was the guy that got the big hit.  Coghlan was only the congratulator in this celebratory snafu, and honestly, the old pie in the face?  Who the hell thinks still thinks this is funny?  Is this guy a MLB player or the next Shemp Howard?

Had Major League Baseball instituted a designated celebrator rule, this could have all been avoided.  Just picture it, as Morales waddled around third base Angels manager Mike Scioscia could have called time and sent the clubby or the bullpen catcher out to style a wicked dish dive.  And if that guy pops a hammy, well, who cares?

Mattingly, who had taken over as manager after Joe Torre got ejected, made a trip to the mound to talk to All-Star reliever/eater Jonathan Broxton in the ninth. Broxton was in the process of gagging a Dodger lead and was facing a bases loaded situation.

Mattingly spoke to Broxton, stepped off the dirt surrounding the mound, and then returned to the dirt to answer a question from uber-slappy James Loney.

Giants' manager Bruce Bochy, who knows his way around rule book minutiae, immediately went to the umpire, pointed out that Mattingly leaving the dirt and then returning constituted two trips to the mound and not one, and the umpires forced Mattingly to remove Broxton from the game.

BF George Sherrill, who is so bad that not a single MLB team tried to claim him off waivers earlier in the week, presumably put down his meatball sub, came into the game, promptly surrendered three runs, and the Dodgers went on to lose the game, their sixth straight.

While stupid, this is not on Mattingly. This does not mean that he is incompetent or that he shouldn’t be the next manager when Joe Torre leaves town. What it means is, Bruce Bochy actually won a game for his team.

That never happens. Managers don’t win games. Managers deal with egos, deal with the media, and fill out line-up cards. They change a pitcher, call a hit and run or a double steal, but at the end of the day, the players decide who wins and loses.

Not last night. While the move may be considered horse-bleep by some, it worked. Broxton could have escaped that jam; Sherrill only eats jam. Getting Broxton out of that game was a masterstroke, even if it was a bit weak.

The Giants don’t have a single player that is ‘must-see’. They don’t have one offensive player who is going to keep you in your seat and away from the beer line. Their only chance to win is if their manager can catch someone on a technicality and that is what he did last night.

Bochy’s eight inch head is stuffed with baseball rules and he is going to use every last one of them to win a game if he has to, and why the hell not?

Don Mattingly may have that very 'this was cool in 1997' soul patch working, and Joe Torre may have all those World Series rings courtesy of Derek Jeter, but the guy with the giant melon just played them both.

And one last observation. Tim Lincecum, the joke is over. The 'emo' look may have been OK when you were racking Cy Youngs, not so much when you are getting beat up more often than not. Find a barbershop.

Too bad. Really.

Lou is one of, if not the, last ‘old school’ baseball manager. I’m not talking about ‘old school’ in the ‘if a guy hits a home run and watches it too long, our pitcher is going to try and take his head off’ kind of old school. Ozzie Guillen is still around to do that. I am talking about a guy who not only wants his team to play the game ‘the right way’ but a guy who throw a temper tantrum in front of 50,000 in the seats and another 10 million on TV, and not think twice about it.

Lou Piniella, gone after this season. Bobby Cox, the all-time leader in managerial ejections, gone after this season. And for the record, you can have most hits, most strikeouts, most home runs, or most wins. Give me the most ejections title. Very cool.

Tommy Lasorda, Earl Weaver, Billy Martin, all long gone. Who is going to be the one to come charging out of the dugout, belly flopping all over the place, throw their cap on the ground, kick dirt like an infant, scream into another man’s face like a drunken fool, rip bags out of the ground and throw them across the field, and look like they are about to stroke out, all because someone missed a tag?

The modern manager is tactical, even keeled, and media savvy. They think before they act. They know if they go ape, it will be run endlessly on highlight shows. It is a dying art. Bud Black is not going to pick up second base and heave it into the outfield. Mike Scioscia may have his share of arguments, but he is never going to throw his cap and kick dirt.

Baseball needs it. The players aren’t on the right drugs anymore. No one likes to watching pitching, and a 60-year old man acting like a 5-year old is often times the best part of any given ball game.

You will be missed Lou. Not your strategy, not your baseball acumen, but you utter shamelessness when it came to acting the fool.

Ball players have scratched their eyes on feathers, nearly cut off their fingers opening CD’s or cutting the hedges, ruined their arms carrying bags of watermelon, or missed games because of the way they eat sunflower seeds. All true.

Add this one to the list.

I don’t know where it would fall on the ‘Stupid Meter’, but I know that it is on there. Probably somewhere between breaking a finger relaxing in a recliner, or burning yourself with an iron by holding it to your face to see if it is hot, also both true.

Chad Rogers, a player recently drafted by the Cincinnati Reds was bitten by a shark while surfing in Galveston, TX. He needed 60 stitches in his foot and missed a scheduled throwing session with the team. While the shark bite is certainly not his fault, his thought process after the attack earns him a spot on the list.

Rogers says that he plans on going back into the water, and will only stay out of he gets bitten a second time.

Genius. I get the whole, ‘horse, get back on it’ thing. Or at least I do if it is a horse and not a shark. Maybe the next time the shark decides it wants more than an appetizer. Maybe the shark is looking for a full entree the next time around. It’s a freaking shark attack, you really want to give it another chance?

Consider yourself lucky, never get in a swimming pool, much less an open body of water for the rest of your life. Get on the mound and go be a major league pitcher.