Sorry but no person, organization or entity should ever go out of his, her or its way, to be humiliated. Disgracing yourself rarely, if ever, serves a purpose. Masochism just doesn't cut it, at least not in my book.
And yet here were the Reds on a thoroughly forgettable Monday in Philadelphia, embarrassing themselves to the extreme. The stench of their 22-1 loss to the Phillies was overpowering. The stain to their honor is quite immense.
It had been 34 years since any major league team had suffered such a decisive setback. And you had to go all the way back to the 1800s to find a time when the Phils had whipped an opponent by such a ludicrous margin.
What the Reds perpetrated was beyond inexcusable. No rhyme, reason or rationale could justify such total capitulation. The Reds simply gave up. They packed it in. To say they quit might be giving them too much credit.
They dishonored themselves, the city they represent and the sport they play. This was professional team acting in a most unprofessional manner. For Cincy, it was amateur night in the City of Brotherly Love.
The Reds' hideous effort was enough to make a billy goat gag. It was a collapse of such seismic proportions it probably put another crack in the Liberty Bell.
Losses don't come any more appalling, disturbing or degrading. It's even money whether the Reds will even have the nerve to show themselves to resume the series on Tuesday. Rumor has it that most of the players have gone underground or joined the witness protection program. It's said that many have already changed their identities or are walking around incognito.
But while the players should take a heavy dose of heat for their pathetic showing, the real culprit of the Reds' surrender was Dusty Baker. It was the Reds' skipper who ran up the white flag and flat out rolled over. Baker turned a ridiculous setback into one that was nothing if not obscene. Baker made a joke out of the proceedings and transformed his team into a laughingstock.
Virtually every baseball highlight show led with the Reds' debacle and the talking heads made Cincy the target of numerous gags and punchlines. It was enough to make any self-respecting Reds fan want to crawl in a hole and curl up into the fetal position.
So what was Baker's crime? What was his act of total submission? How did he go belly up?
Basically, Baker's transgression was to make a disastrous situation even worse and allow his team to be thrashed and bludgeoned to death without doing a damn thing to stop it. In fact, his very actions left the Reds naked and practically unable to defend themselves.
Specifically, Baker allowed utility infielder Paul Janish to pitch the eighth inning. Bad idea, shoddy judgment. Yes, the Reds were getting wiped out and yes, things were out of hand at 16-1 but there's still something to be said for trying to be competitive and at least, making a half-hearted effort. Why make something horrible into something that's utterly horrendous?
Bringing Janish in was an obvious sign that Baker had long since thrown in the towel. The Reds manager wasn't even putting on the pretense of continuing to do battle. He was done. His hands were up.
What followed was painfully predictable. Janish got hammered, rocked and destroyed. What he was throwing up to home plate wasn't even worthy of batting practice stuff. It was nothing but pure meat with no velocity or movement. It was a crime he was allowed to disperse such crap. It was a complete abomination.
For the Phils, this was easier than hitting off a tee. This was cake. Facing Janish was tantamount to shooting fish in a barrel.
But give Janish his due, he played the role of sacrificial lamb to the hilt. In one scant inning, he yielded six runs including Jayson Werth's grand slam. But he did manage to register a strikeout which had to have made Baker as proud as a papa. To Dusty, that probably made up for everything.
Baker tried to palm off what he'd done by saying that his bullpen was weary and overworked and needed a respite. Hence, the presence of Janish. Strange but Baker had used the same excuse the day before when he permitted Bronson Arroyo to take a nasty beating before he belatedly lifted the laboring right-hander.
Baker's alibis are growing tiresome and appear rather thin. This is, after all, early July and not late in August when perhaps making a case for a fatigued pen might have more resonance. And it's not like his relievers are doing anything backbreaking or overly strenuous. They're not exactly plowing fields, toiling 12 hours in the mines or picking crops in a broiling sun. Compared to that, pitching an inning or two every other day or so amounts to child's play.
No, that line just won't sell. Baker had plenty of options other than Janish that he chose to ignore. Instead of trying to stabilize things, restore some dignity and prevent the game from getting even more outrageous, Dusty elected to cave in and let the situation escalate to absurd proportions.
He quit and there's no other word for it. Not exactly the type of message you want to send to a team already scuffling to keep its' head above water.
Getting your brains beat in has few positives. And when you're getting whipped and taking enormous punishment, a manager's first obligation is to stem the tide and put an end to the pain. Baker conveniently forgot that precept and as a result, he's guiding a team that's hemorrhaging badly.
Whether there's any carryover effect from Monday's pasting is purely speculative but a hell of a lot less has sent countless teams into a real funk. Being so savagely battered can leave scars and help erode the confidence of a club that doesn't have much of that commodity to begin with.
Right now, the Reds have a psyche that's shaky and fragile. Baker's stupidity has only added to his team's insecurity.
Because of the Phils, the Reds were forced to eat a lot of humble pie. Because of their manager, Cincy had more of that distasteful item crammed down its' throat than was necessary.
Thanks to Baker, the Reds had shame and disgrace heaped upon their humiliation and futility. With Baker calling the shots, the Reds' pride was reduced to absolute rubble, leaving them to feel mighty distraught and self-conscious about themselves.
Needless to say, this was the mother of all embarrassments!