Taking a shortened deal means more money now, and lots of it, but it also means Boras is able to spin your signing as less concerned about your contract than about the chances of your team winning a World Series. You just want to help, you say, long-term stability be damned. Those media people weren't lying when they said the Angels fans really wouldn't bother you; they like baseball, but seem way too relaxed to call you A-Fraud or Gay-Rod or any of the other things New Yorkers called you when you went 2-for-5 in a losing playoff effort. The years pass, and your team is always good, but you begin to worry about Mike Scoscia. He's always calling bunts and hit and runs even when you're at the plate, and he tries to make you steal even though you're not as fast as you used to be. In fact, he makes everyone steal, even Bartolo Colon. It gets grating.
Not only that, but the team doesn't seem to be winning. You and Vlad are the new Ortiz and Manny, but without any real playoff appearances to show for it. Shortly after signing you, Arte Moreno is -- thanks to the subprime mortgage crisis and PETA's insistence on allowing the rats at the stadium to flourish in their "natural environment" -- forced to sell the Angels to the former ownership group of the Pittsburgh Pirates. Oh no! They begin unloading payroll, first Vlad, then Gary Matthews, and then anyone that makes more than $5 million a year. Except for you. You're their prize cow, the one player that keeps the fans in the stands, and you begin to feel like Michael Jordan's punishment for losing in Space Jam.
One day, you look around, and you realize that your worst fears are confirmed: You're nothing more than a pawn. A childlike puzzle piece in a man's game. No one likes you, because they never could: They're all part of the infinite lie. You begin to be actively critical of free market capitalism; you mix a study of Marx and Orwell with Alan Watts and Eastern philosophy. Suddenly, you decide that baseball is the last thing you'd like to be doing, and as the last day of your contract passes, you move to Tibet to edify, never to be heard from again.
Good thing you signed a shortened deal after all, huh?
The End.
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Not sure what this is? Follow this link to help Alex Rodriguez make up his mind, Choose Your Own Adventure-style.
