Thanks to the BBWAA, There Will Be No One to Care for Me in My Old Age

The Baseball Writers’ Association of America has announced its selection of Red Sox 2B Dustin Pedroia as the American League’s Most Valuable Player for 2008.

I hate to be dramatic, but this is sort of ruining my life. When I first heard the news, I didn’t understand the straits I’m in. I said to myself -- self, I said -- Pedroia is the sort of scrappy Aryan posterboy old people and baseball journalists love, and there’s no use getting het up about it. Then I turned my mind to more important matters, like whether it’s OK for a 20-something to wear flannel pajamas if she’s really, really cold at night.

But shortly thereafter HMW sent an e-mail that bitch-slapped my blinders off. “I don't mind when random guys get a vote or two here and there at the bottom,” he wrote. “But Dustin Pedroia? MVP? I'm not sure how we'll explain this to future generations.”

That’s right, someday I’ll have to sit my children down to explain the Age of Baseball Unreason, when scrappiness outweighed awesomeness: Yes, Dustin Pedroia was our 2008 AL MVP, with a solid but certainly not outstanding season. Yes, your mother let her unhealthy obsession with Jason LaRue’s dirty ‘stash lead her to rejoice when the St. Louis Cardinals resigned him for the 2009 season. Yes, some people preferred David Eckstein to Albert Pujols, and we were not allowed to make them use separate baseball facilities.

My only recourse: no children. And really, how could I even think of bringing them into this screwed-up pro-Bo-Hart world? So it looks like I’m going to die alone in Delmar Gardens, most likely while drafting an angry letter to Sound Off. Thanks, BBWAA. Thanks a lot.

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