The Marlins and Their Dysfunctional Family Dinner

It’s Sunday night*, a pot roast is cooling on top of the stove, rings of steam floating towards the ceiling, while Mom finishes turning the house into a home, complete with garish home run device hung on the mantle. She adjusts it a little and smiles.

Dad comes home, a little drunk and rowdy from an afternoon with the “boys” and he’s got a brand new “off the truck” foosball table. The kids run downstairs screaming “Foosball! Foosball! Yeah, Dad, you’re the best.”

As Mom brings over the steaming meat pile, Dad notices the display, lit up and gleaming, “God dammit, Sheryl, what the hell is that?”

“Don’t worry about it, it cost nothing. It’s art.”

“Well, it makes our house look like a piece of shit.”

“Settle down, Jeffrey. I like it and it’s staying up.”

They eat in silence, but the meat is tough and gamey. Nothing at all like the picture in Cooking Light magazine. The kids are upset. Dad checks his phone for score updates.

“This food tastes like poop,” little Hanley says.

“Yeah, you’ll never make it to the World Series of Dinner Cooking with garbage like this,” says tiny Anibal.

Mom, nearly in tears, looks to her husband for support.

“What? I paid for all this food and I’d like to see a little return on investment.”

Mom smashes a plate against the wall.

“You didn’t pay for any of this food. You swindled it out of people. I had to use food stamps. Food stamps, sweetie pie,” she says, savoring every syllable. “You’re nothing but a thug.”

Little Hanley smashes his plate, eager to join in the fun.

“That’s it. You’re out of here. You’re all out of here!” Dad yells. “I’m going to the bar and you had all better be gone when I get back. Or else.”

—————-

Of course, the Marlins season may not have played out like that. And their recent trades may even strengthen the team in the long run. But when the team that has epitomized fire sales, and is run by the man who orchestrated the failure of the Expos, starts getting rid of players just three months after their taxpayer-funded stadium opens, I think it’s fair to be a skeptical.

*For those who don’t like antiquated gender roles, feel free to re-arrange the characters and genders as you see fit.