Last week Jeffery Loria pressed the reset button on his
team. He’s done it before and who’s to
say he won’t do it again. The troika of
Marlin club dismantlement has been painfully embarrassing, but a way too
commonplace action in South Florida.
But, this time it was worse.
After pilfering funds from a public who didn’t want the new Marlins
Park in the first place, he blew up
the on-field talent that was supposed to make the money back. He suckered Floridians that this bad idea was
actually a savvy business move that would be better for the community.
Years ago in a place far away, a man by the name of Lyle Lanley
tried a similar business tactic. After
Mr. Burns was fined $3 million for illegally disposing of nuclear waste, the
town came into some cash and in stereotypical Springfieldian fashion, they had
to spend it immediately. But, instead of
forcing city officials to build a baseball park, Langley
coaxed a dense and easily manipulated Springfield
community to build a monorail, by the means of catchy song and dance the town
is known to fall prey too.
Neither Springfield
nor Miami needed new toys to show
off their city, but eventually they both took shape and it took little time for
the public to be sorely disappointed.
In Miami, Loria
never provided a whimsical song for the population, but it probably wouldn’t have
worked anyway. In fact, arguably the
biggest issue in Miami’s 2009
election for Mayor was the building of a new Marlins stadium. City Commissioner Tomas Relgado, an opponent of
the project, took home 72% of the votes and won the position.
As Bart would say, “Sorry mom, the mob has spoken”.
But, unlike his team Loria knew how to play ball. He slithery negotiated his way through city
offices and miraculously came out with a disgusting victory. The public would fund almost 80% of the $634
million monstrosity that everyone vehemently detested.
Conversely in Springfield,
the townspeople wanted their project.
Even though the town was much too small for a monorail, Lanley’s “proven”
success in other towns had left them smitten.
Suddenly, the whole town was eating out of the palm of Lanley’s hand. Like Loria he had promised an improvement to
the quality of life that would never come to fruition.
Shockingly, both endeavors flopped on their maiden
voyages. Loria’s high priced team and abdominal
park was an eyesore. No one came to the games
making his utopian vision of baseball in South Florida a
pathetic oasis. And as fate would have
it, Lanley’s monorail failed and malfunctioned on it’s first ride nearly
killing everyone on board. Not even Homer’s
favorite possum “Bitey” could save the failure of the investment.
Lanley was able to split town before Springfield
spontaneously transformed into a riotous cadre, which is another of their traits. However, he paid the price when his outgoing
flight touched down in a city that was a previous monrail customer. No one knows for sure, but it’s safe bet he
met his maker.
As for Loria, well he’s still there in Miami
and still collecting the townspeople’s money. Still there is Marlins
Park, a shining example of unnecessary
metal that burdens a whole city. The
players that might have made the money back to the city of Miami
were unloaded across the boarder to Toronto. All that remains is a mad man and his
Frankenstein.
I feel bad for the residents of Miami. They didn’t ask for a stadium that would make
their bank account smaller, but they got one anyway. Now everyday they have to drive past it with
the same inner feelings of anger and regret like they were some stooges from North
Haverbrook or Ogdenville.
Marlins and Monorails: Who needs them?
