The last button Rockies skipper Bud Black pushed right at Coors Field was on the front of the clubhouse microwave.
Rookie pitcher Angel Chivilli got thrown to the wolves (the wolves, er, Reds, won on Wednesday, thanks to a six-run ninth), which means Colorado’s lugging a five-game losing skid into Nolan Arenado’s backyard.
Check that. A five-game losing skid and no Kris Bryant.
Again.
“It’s looking like we’re going to put him on the injured list,” Black said after his star’s back problems re-emerged over the past few days. “And let this settle down and hopefully come back in the 10-day period.”
In the meantime, Buddy, you’ll just have to forgive Harrison Haus for presuming the worst. Or rather, more of the same.
“(Bryant) has a knack for not playing when we’re here, I’ll say that much,” the Cubs convert from South Bend, Ind., who now lives in Aurora told me as we watched the eighth inning of a maddening 12-7 loss to Cincinnati from the back of Section 130.
“I mean, in the last couple years, probably, we’ve been to 15 (games).”
“How many of those did Bryant miss?” I asked.
Haus peered into the beer splashing about his plastic cup. He took a reflexive sip while doing the math in his head.
“Ten of those,” Haus replied.
“Sounds about right,” I said.
“So I’ve seen him play opening day a couple of times,” he continued. “I was here for that. It was cool. I mean, that tugs on your heartstrings a little bit. But the cost …”
Ah, yes. The cost. Seven years. $182 million. Three seasons in, Bryant’s played, combined, in 146 games, logging 546 at bats while hitting .247 with 17 home runs with 55 RBIs.
So for $71 million in base pay over three years, Rockies general manager Bill Schmidt’s gotten the statistical equivalent of one season from late-stage Ian Desmond.
The kicker? There are still four years and $104 million in base salary to go. Buckle up, buttercup.
“You’re not going to be able to trade him,” Haus mused between sips. “So I think we’re going to keep trotting him out there. They’re going to sell the jerseys. He’s still a name … I think you’ve got to keep putting him out there as long as you can until (the contract) becomes tradeable. Or cuttable.”
We’ve got a Russell Wilson situation now, one that probably requires a painful, expensive Russell Wilson solution. At this point, a reputable big-league franchise swallows its pride and eats the money. But these are the Rockies we’re talking about, so who knows?
Know this: No front office in its right mind is going to trade for a slugger whose body gave up the ghost 24 months ago. The Rockies are playing Bryant — when they can, assuming they can — out of shame, hubris and pure stubbornness now. They’re hoping big No. 23 catches lightning in the bottle long enough, at some point, that he either justifies the worst free-agent contract in franchise history or impresses some pennant-chasing scout who thinks a contender can squeeze whatever drops of baseball KB’s got left.
Which, to Ashley Kindsvatter, a Denverite who wore a black Bryant T-shirt to Wednesday’s tilt, probably ain’t much.
“Cut him,” Kindsvatter said matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, you’re out $100 million. If you can’t, in this day and age, with sports contracts, let go of $100 million … it’s tough. I get it. It’s been what, three years? This is his third year. I would do that if I had an employee and I owed him a certain amount.
“At this point, does him being here do anything materially good to the team, outside of him patting people on the back or in the (backside)?”
Her sympathies are justifiably limited toward Schmidt and CEO Dick Monfort, given how management chooses to build a lineup around a former MVP who never plays (Bryant) and anchor a rotation around two pitchers — German Marquez and Kyle Freeland — who’ve made four starts combined through 61 games.
“Yeah, you’re going to lose revenue, Dick Monfort. So open up your pocketbook,” she continued. “Big-money decisions are determined by the owner. (Monfort) picked Kris Bryant.
“I know we don’t have a top-10 minor league system. But, in my opinion, him being here, if he can’t be consistently playing 75% of the season, seems like a wasted three years.”
Sure does. Over the first three seasons of his contract, which should be the statistical apex of a 29-year-old’s career, Bryant’s appeared in 146 out of a possible 385 games (37.9%). He’s posted a combined WAR with the Rox of -1.1, per BaseballReference.com, which again, appears eerily similar to Desmond’s single-season WAR in 2017 (-1.0) and 2019 (-1.5).
“And he’s probably going to get hurt again,” sighed Jerry Duran of Denver, whose son attended Reds-Rox wearing a sharp green-and-white Rockies alternate jersey with “BRYANT 24” stitched into the back. “I don’t want him to. It’s unfortunate.
“But that’s just the way, I guess, his body is. He can’t handle the game anymore.”
And Haus, to be frank, is getting a little cheesed off at having to explain to his kids why KB’s never in the lineup whenever they come to the ballpark. At having to explain what a “lemon” is. At having to justify an invisible icon.
“Super nice guy,” Haus said of Bryant. “I want it to work out here at some point, just to have some semblance of it be worthwhile.”
Another sip.
“But it’s going to be tough … and you kinda have to live with it, you know? They made that bed.”
And now they’re lying in it. Moored to the bottom bunk of the NL West. A drinking town with a baseball problem, living the same nightmare on a loop.
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