Miguel Cabrera was declared ready to play, today, for the first time this spring, thirteen days and three games after The Incident.
His employers, Major League Baseball, America's most powerful labor union (the MLBPA), the writers and broadcasters -- enablers all -- have spoken and said all the right things.
How unfortunate that Dmitri Young didn't get the same courtesy.
In 2006, his off-field antics rivaled Cabrera's and became a distraction of equal magnitude.
Instead of sympathy, he got his release; on September 6, right in the middle of that season's meltdown.
He missed playing time as well, but hadn't cost the Tigers six players, wasn't owed $154 million over the life of his contract, and hadn't posted MVP numbers (was hitting .250 with seven homers when cut loose).
The preachers in double-knits say that baseball is a reflection of life.
It does mirror life, where one's usefulness to society and worth as a human is directly proportional to one's bank balance.
Hit a thrown baseball hard, far, and often, but become a stumbling drunk, and you're protected, as you have been since the world discovered your special talent.
Hit .250 and you're gone.
The baseball fan wonders how Dombrowski, Leyland, Cabrera's fawning teammates, MLB's special assistant in charge of drunks, and all other defenders of the double standard including some well-meaning but misguided fans, are able to sleep at night.
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