For Surging Padres, Show’s Time is Over

If Larry Mendte can write about sports, I suppose it’s only fair that I write about the weather.

You see, I know what brought those dark clouds and drizzling weather to town.

Eric Show.

The man seems to have spent most of his baseball career with his own personal dark cloud over his head. In this dreariest of years, his cloud has grown large and dark enough to cover an entire county.

That, Larry, was what happened.

Eric Show came home.

I make this point because of his unbelievable outburst the other day in Houston. In short, he made it rather clear that he no longer cares to be employed by the Padres. He demanded to be traded or released and did everything but threaten to jump off the Coronado Bridge if he is not accommodated.

You want excerpts? Buckle up . . .

On respect: “There’s been a lot of back-stabbing, talking behind my back, and I’m really tired of it all . . . I can’t demand preferential treatment, but basically the message that’s been sent to me is that they don’t believe in me. I’m being systematically ignored.”

On his contract: “The Padres essentially lied about the contract. They never followed up on their option like they said they would.”

On baseball in general: “The thing that really bothers me the most is that you appear to be the recipient of what appears to be that the entire internal baseball management hierarchy is dominated and perpetuated by fear.”

Come again?

On Pat Dobson, the pitching coach: “He has the ability to turn very quickly. This is a watch-out-for-yourself syndrome. He’s not one you can trust very much.”

On his relationship with Dobson: “Manic depressive.”

All of this (and much more) came in the aftermath of not being asked to start Sunday’s game against the Astros. He took this as being a slight of substantial proportion. Indeed, he called it the last straw.

The man who did start, Derek Lilliquist, went out and threw a four-hitter to win, 9-0. This would not seem to be a sensible occasion on which to be second-guessing the manager’s selection of pitchers.

Indeed, Show chose the occasion of the last day of the most successful trip in the history of the franchise to vent his discontent. He chose a time when things finally seem to be falling in place for this heretofore struggling club, a time when there is at least a glimmer of hope that maybe this club can get back into the pennant race.

In essence, this was a rather selfish time to verbalize personal frustrations.

What he said and when he said it made it perfectly clear he no longer feels a part of the team and thus no longer feels compelled to concern himself with team chemistry. Eric Show would concern himself with Eric Show, thank you.

Obviously, the solution is to get rid of him . . . ASAP.

However, that is much more easily said than done.

Who wants him?

Jack McKeon, the vice-president/baseball operations, has been trying to find a taker.

Any luck, Jack?

“Not really,” he said. “Not at all.”

Show, you see, has four wins and eight losses and an earned-run average of 6.25. All of this has come in a year following back surgery, which in itself would be a bit of a deterrent. It is also a possibility that other clubs might perceive him as being a malcontent as well.

Consequently, Show is about as valuable as an airplane ticket to Baghdad. You might have to trade him for a player to be born later.

So what do you do?

“You just gotta stick with him,” McKeon said. “Maybe somebody will get antsy about needing a pitcher.”

Patience, then, is McKeon’s choice of options.

My choice would be to release him. Say goodby. Adios.

This option might be dangerous and maybe even a little stupid, but Eric Show could turn around and win the Cy Young Award, and the Padres would never be second-guessed for turning him loose. Ask the fans to give him a thumbs up or a thumbs down, and you know how that vote would go.

Simply stated, Eric Show’s days as a Padre are over.

Turn him loose. I’m ready for sunshine already.