SAN DIEGO — The Padres can be a hard, frustrating follow. Far too often, I feel as though I'm binge-watching C-SPAN with pink eye.
I can see them playing in the middle of Baseball October. But somewhere sunny. Relaxing. Cabo, maybe. Cancun. French Riviera. The Maldives. Maui. Maybe a fictional paradise — I wanna say, Bali Hai.
No major league ballparks in those destinations.
And that's if they make the wild-card playoffs, so they could be bagging rays and catching some tasty waves earlier in the month. As of this moment, that if can be seen from Alpha Centauri.
I've read every Padres who-done-it-wrong since 1969, but this team is their greatest mystery. And, in their life, they have finished above .500 12 times — not once since 2010 (70 in COVID year).
For more than a half-century, they have been bad, semi-bad, OK, near-good, or good. Never great. The 2022 Pads have a poorly drawn map and have been all over it.
Consider:
— The Pads couldn't buy a hit with runners in scoring position at a penny arcade.
— They continuously strike out looking. Embarrassing.
— Their starting pitching (with the exception of Yu Darvish and occasional Blake Snell brilliance) has been spotty.
— Fernando Tatis Jr.'s misbehavior has cost them firepower and speed by getting caught with his hand in the apothecary jar and suspended 80 games after Evel Knievel-ing himself into a well-hidden broken wrist in the Dominican.
— Juan Soto was supposed to be the next Ted Williams. He got here and couldn't hit with Ted if they played together at Hoover High. Josh Bell, same thing.
— After an awful start, maybe closer Josh Hader is coming around. The Brandon Drury acquisition has worked.
Given all this, being well above .500 at this point in September and in wild-card contention would seem improbable.
But it is probable. A good chance remains, and I have a hunch they're going to crawl into the playoffs anyway because they aren't being chased by Man o' War.
Anyway, it all came to a head Thursday evening in Arizona, where they regurgitated all over the field during their most embarrassing loss of the season. It prompted an angry Bob Melvin to say:
"Didn't even look like we put up a fight."
Those are damning words from a veteran manager, but at least he prompted a team chemistry meeting. The lab was blown up. If that ignited a Bunsen burner under them is a guess for a higher authority.
Who's to blame, the manager? Melvin has been to more rodeos than Roy Rogers. As with any manager, he's made mistakes. But he only can play the guys he has. Can he hit for them? Throw out somebody trying to steal a base? Make bad pitches to nobodies? Provide every batter with a good eye?
This team is constructed by general manager A.J. Preller, who has had good intentions, while using enormous amounts of Peter Seidler's money and turning over once-fertile farmland. His hedge fund isn't paying off.
If this team doesn't make the playoffs, Seidler has some serious decisions to make. He's spent hundreds of millions on a vehicle that spends too much time in the shop.
One positive: If they do make the playoffs, they won't have to face a rookie Arizona pitcher Sandy Koufax-ing them in his first big-time fling.
