Please, Marvin, please

By Bruce Martinez

Sometimes all you can do is plead. Please, please Marvin Benard hang up those spikes and exit the dugout. Please retire from my beloved Giants. I can no longer watch you get on base less then 33 percent of the time. It pains me to see this. It hurts to read that you only scored 70 runs in 2001. How could this be? Gerald Ford in a rascal electric scooter could do better then this. Fridge Parry probably could too, while at the same time eating a fried cheese steak sandwich. With Rich, Barry and Jeffro Kent hitting behind you, 115 runs should have been a sure thing.

Many times when a centerfielder brings very little to the plate offensively, he will bring much in the fielding department. This, of course, is in no way true with my man Marvin. A typical play in center is never typical.

Announcer one: "Routine fly ball to centerfield!"

Announcer 2: "Benard breaks the wrong way. No wait, he's turned all the way around, he's got a bead on the ball, he slows down and then dives for the play in dead centerfield, six yards from where he orginally started. The crowd doesn't know to roar or cover their eyes. What a quagmire, what do we do?"

All the while Bonds laughs to himself as it is once again confirmed that he is Barry Bonds and Benard is not. As Bonds laughs Willie Mays cries and wonders just how bad things could be.

If you're reading this, Marvin (probably not, as this is not a comic book) just go home. Take your $11 million and fly back to Panama and give tours of the canal and check out Tom Emanski's video, and play wiffle ball with tourists for dimes. Do whatever you feel you have to do, just don't come back to San Francisco.

Email Bruce or call (408) 554-4852.