"Prefabricated," he says.

Another sports writer gives us a peek behind the scenes of his job. It's exciting stuff, if you're into self-indulgent solipsism:

"Jorge Posada has never been an easy guy to get your arms around.

He was nowhere as photogenic and accessible as Derek Jeter, never as folksy as Andy Pettitte, nor as wise as Mariano Rivera. He wasn't needy like the younger Alex Rodriguez or a lovable space cadet like Bernie Williams."

That's quite an oversimplification of complex human beings. Good work.


"The real Jorge Posada, however, doesn't fit easily into any of the prefabricated niches we try to conveniently shoehorn our athletic heroes into."

And when I say "we," I mean "me."

My entire life's work is a lazy, pointless sham.


"None of this makes Posada a bad guy; quite the contrary. It makes him a human being, a refreshing departure from the cookie-cutter, corporate robots our professional athletes have become in the never-ending effort to maximize marketing revenue and protect their 'brands.'"


It's still a brand. It's an anti-brand, which is a brand. Posada is a man's man, a pull-no-punches guy who sells whiskey you can count on.


"Posada never seemed to care about those things, which is probably why he never cashed in on his Yankees association to anywhere near the extent Jeter and Rivera, both relentlessly protective of their images, have and continue to do so."

Maybe he refuses to promote product because he's disinterested. Maybe the marketers avoid him because of his enormous ears.

 
"But for me, Posada's real legacy was made as much in the clubhouse as on the field.

Unlike a lot of his teammates, who seemed programmed to be as bland and non-controversial -- and as a result, uninteresting -- as possible, you never had to guess how Posada felt about something. There was no reading between the lines, no having to crawl inside his head or his heart."

The Jorge Posada career retrospective is about Wallace Matthews.

As for the relative difficulty of crawling inside his head, well it should not be too difficult because ... I'm sorry. Enough about his gigantic ears. It really is beneath me. I apologize.


"And while we can endlessly debate whether Posada deserves a plaque in Monument Park (Why not? It’s just a tourist attraction, not Arlington National Cemetery), whether he should have his number retired (honestly, I don't care about such things), or whether ultimately he belongs in Cooperstown, there's one thing we must all agree on: Jorge Posada was no phony."

Yeah, who cares about stupid stuff like Monument Park or Yankee retired numbers?

Let me explain the important stuff ... like when he threw a teammate's cell phone in the locker room. I am a Baseball Insider.

 
"He was one of the last of a dying breed, the real thing who never hid his warts behind a mask of corporate blandness.

For that alone, he should be remembered as singular among his Yankees teammates."

Really?

For that alone he should be remembered as singular among his Yankees teammates?

I'll tell you what. Corporate Blandness is fine with me if you win ... and Posada's veraciousness would have meant nothing at all if he couldn't play.