So, Bud Selig finally lost his patience with the Beverly Hillbillies, aka the Battlin' McCourts, and has taken the Los Angeles Dodgers away from them before they could break them beyond repair.
Can't wait for the blowback. This being a country where everything eventually becomes political, I fully expect the Usual Suspects to surface, railing about the unassailable rights of property owners -- even the stupid, venal and willfully destructive ones -- to ruin everything they touch just because a lot of money fell out of the sky at some point and hit them in the head.
Which is pretty much the deal with the McCourts, who, according to this guy, have turned one of the proudest franchises in all of baseball into a live version of "Roadhouse."
Listen to Mr. Plaschke: "A club that once used profits to purchase ice cream for employees after victories was being run by an owner who used that money on everything from lavish mansions to fancy haircuts. A club that once employed nine Hall of Famers was being run by an owner whose payroll included his children and a Russian physicist hired to channel positive energy."
And did we mention the fact that they've let Dodger Stadium -- one of the game's signature venues -- become a hellhole you wouldn't want to venture into unless you were packing a grenade launcher?
So, kudos to Uncle Bud for finally stepping in and saying, "OK, children, that's enough." The McCourts, of course, say they'll sue, but to hell with them. This is just Selig invoking a little-known codicil in the Faber College constitution (OK, MLB's, then): The Parents Know Best Clause.
Which holds that, if you leave your toys out in the rain one more time, you're going to lose them.