This columnist was smart enough to write a disclaimer. I'd still like
to kick his butt.

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(Disclaimer: The writer of this column recognizes that Manny Ramirez
is perhaps the best right-handed hitter in Red Sox history. The writer
recognizes, too, that Ramirez one day will be a first-ballot inductee
into the Baseball Hall of Fame.)

There. In any discussion involving Manny Ramirez, it's important to
get it out there that there is an understanding of the Red Sox left
fielder's enormous talent and his place in baseball history. To not
acknowledge these simple facts invites those who would like to keep
Ramirez in a Red Sox uniform to shout, "Do you have any idea how good
this guy is?!"

But talent's not the issue here. The statistics and our own collected
anecdotal evidence gathered over the past six seasons have only
reinforced the universally held belief that the guy can play.

Why, then, do the Red Sox seem so intent on ending their relationship
with Ramirez? At this point, money is no longer much of a factor:
Given the spending frenzy that has taken place in Major League
Baseball this offseason, we are past the point where what's left of
Ramirez' contract is shockingly bloated. He's going to earn roughly
$20 million in each of the next two seasons, which, given his run
production, could even be considered a bargain to a team that believes
it is just one big bat away from making it to the World Series.

A few years back, the Red Sox placed Ramirez on waivers and would have
been thrilled had someone come along and picked up his contract. There
have been trade rumors galore, both during the offseason and during
the last frantic days leading up to the July 31 trading deadline.

This is different. Teams are calling the Sox, who are listening. And
the Sox dare to respond that any deal involving the big guy must
involve "value," which is why the Padres had to announce that, no,
thank you, they will not part with ace pitcher Jake Peavy in order to
bring Ramirez to San Diego.

But again: Why do the Red Sox want to trade Manny Ramirez? All things
considered, it's not unreasonable to conclude that either they are
bored to tears with all these Manny-being-Manny crises, or the Manny
camp simply told the Sox to get it done. Now.

For reasons that are his own, Manny does not want to play in Boston.
He apparently never wanted to be here in the first place, and for that
he can blame only himself for allowing his one-time agent, Jeff
Moorad, to seek the richest, fattest deal without regard to that often
overlooked intangible called "lifestyle."

During his days as a member of the Cleveland Indians, Ramirez enjoyed
a wonderful lifestyle. Oh, he had his Manny-being-Manny moments out on
the shores of Lake Erie, too, but they did not become the main topic
on Cleveland radio from morning drive right up to the Indians' pregame
show.

He should have stayed there. Instead, he took the money and came to
Boston. And here we are. Let's all be mature about this and admit that
it's time to dissolve the contractual bands that unite Ramirez and the
Red Sox, whose fans will always have a quirky but loving relationship
with the man, so long as he does not wind up with the Yankees.

That's an interesting subplot to all this. Johnny Damon, who ran into
walls and often played in pain during his days with the Red Sox, had
the temerity to sign with the Yankees, dooming him to a lifetime of
condemnation any time he steps inside Fenway Park.

Ramirez, whether he winds up with the Dodgers or Padres or Angels or
Giants or Rangers or Mets or Nippon Ham Fighters, will always get a
nice round of applause any time he returns to that relic of a ballyard
in Kenmore Square.

But he must go. For the sake of the Red Sox. And for his own sake.
Wherever he goes, he will hit his .300, hit his 35 to 45 home runs,
drive in his 100 or more runs. He will be alternately brilliant and
clumsy in the outfield. He will play, he will not play. He will
surprise us in ways nobody could have predicted, which is what
happened the night the newly naturalized United States citizen trotted
out to left field hoisting a miniaturized version of Old Glory over
his head . . . or the night he stepped inside the Green Monster to do
what is euphemistically described as "freshening up" . . . or those
games he missed because of sudden illnesses that have befallen various
relatives.

He will always be Manny. Being Manny.

He just needs to be someplace else.

Source: Steve Buckley / BostonHerald.com