A Formal Apology to Ron Davis

I've written at length—and with startling frequency—about the trauma Ron Davis inflicted upon me as a child. It was a rare treat for someone living 90 minutes outside the metro area to see a baseball game, and of the few I managed to see, Ron Davis managed to blow a hell-ton of them. OK, it was only two, but the sample size was, like, four. 

And the record shows this experience was not limited to me, nor directed at me. He blew 14 saves in 1984! That really happened! It seems made up! 

That said, I'm not here to relitigate the past, or angrily wish for him to step on a bunch of LEGOs in the dark (again). 

Instead, I'm here to say: I'm sorry, Ron. 

I'm sorry. 

I thought I knew what bullpen incompetence was. I thought I knew what it was like to have certain victory snatched from my greedy, grasping hands by a [redacted] meatball you grooved to Don Mattingly or Harold Baines. I thought I knew what rock bottom was. 

I was wrong. I was so very wrong.

The folly of youth, perhaps caused by raging hormones or shelter from the diamond-sharp cruelties of an indifferent universe, is that, when things go wrong, it's the worst thing to ever happen. Not just to you, but to anyone. I understand there's famine and war, but have you considered that Ron Davis is coming in to pitch the ninth inning for my favorite team again? How can this happen?

The last nine months have shown me just how ignorant and incurious about the world I was. 

The post-2025 trade deadline Twins bullpen is a disaster, wrapped in a travesty, inside an apocalypse. This was noted at the time it happened. It was noted all offseason. It was noted in spring training. It was noted when they surged to an early AL-leading record. And now, with the Twins blowing every game when they're not up by seven runs, it is being noted again. 

Everyone saw it coming. No one did anything about it. No one is coming to save us. It's over. You might wish for it not to be over, but wish in one hand and [redacted] in the other. See which one fills up first.

So, Ron, I once again extend my sincerest apologies. I thought you were the worst. You weren't. You weren't even close.

Image license here.