Dear Mr. Daniels.
I feel weird referring to you as a mister, being that I’m just over a year and a half older than you. Nevertheless, I want you to take what I have to say seriously. So here it goes:
Over the last several weeks, Rangers fans have sat by and watched while their favorite players or potential future favorites were either signed to lucrative contracts with other teams or traded. I’m not going to pretend to have any idea what it is that you and your front office team do behind the scenes on a daily basis to try and build a winning franchise. You’ve worked some incredible magic over the last couple of years, and I’m thankful for that.
I’ll be quick to admit that I fully understand that baseball, first and foremost, is a business. You, Mr. Ryan, and the rest of the organization are providing a service to those of us willing to pay for that service. It’s because of that knowledge and understanding that I’m able to separate the practical business side of baseball from my love of the game side. You see, as much as I might love the Texas Rangers, it pales in comparison to my love for the game itself. I’m hoping it’s your own love for the game that will force you to hear me out.
It’s not often that both a father and daughter’s hearts are broken by the same people, let alone broken twice in the same week, but it happened – first with Kacie (my 14-year-old daughter) losing her favorite player in Mike Napoli and then a few days later with me as Michael Young was traded to the Philadelphia Phillies. I can’t say the loss was more significant for one of us than the other; we each have our reasons for why we call someone our favorite, and because of that one loss doesn't sting less than the other.
I get that Mike Napoli, despite his post season heroics and being a name that sells a fair share of merchandise, isn’t somebody who’s statistical history proves worthy of his $13 million a year asking price. I also get that moving a career Ranger and $10 million of his $16 million salary clears a significant amount of cash to make a move on a free-agent like Zack Greinke, despite his opting to sign with the Los Angeles Dodgers. But now the Anaheim Angels, for the second year in a row, have swooped in and signed one of our players to a contract he may or may not be worth, which is beside the point.
Frustrating as all of this might seem to the casual fan, the lack of fan-based communication is equally frustrating too. Not everyone is willing or capable to separate business from fandom, so why not find a way to keep the Ranger faithful abreast of the comings and goings of their favorite players, but from a front office perspective? Why not come out and publicly say that Mike Napoli, as much as you know fans loved him, because of his asking price didn't fit financially into the puzzle of what you’re trying to build and that by not meeting his salary demands you were aligning yourself to make a greater push at landing Zack Greinke, or possibly even resigning Josh Hamilton? Why not come out and say that while Michael Young has been the consummate team player and the face of the Texas Rangers for over a decade, the decision - a decision in which there really was no right answer – had to be made to move the team forward, into the future, rather than hold onto the past? Why not come out and say that you made every effort possible to sign Zack Greinke, which included not bringing Napoli back and trading Young to free up money to sign the free-agent pitcher long-term? Why not come out and say that while you’re appreciative of what Josh has done as a member of the Texas Rangers, his asking price was too gaudy for someone who brings a tremendous amount of drama (both seen and unseen) with him, a history of injuries, and an inevitable slump each season that seemed harder and harder for the star centerfielder to dig out of?
Please don’t think of this as me trying to tell you how to do your job, when what I’m really asking is what can the organization do with regards to how and what it communicates with the fans? As fans, we take it on faith that you know what you’re doing. I'd say that it isn't our business if you're running the team into the ground or not, but it actually is our business. Assuming you’re trying to resurrect the team from the demise imposed upon it by its former owner and in turn create a winning organization, why not just come right out and tell us matter-of-factly the reasons behind some of the decisions that were made? You’re probably thinking “Do you do that with your kids?” The answer is yes. I try not to take the “Because I said so” approach with them, but instead offer them legitimate reasons for the whys and why nots that are made on their behalf. I want my kids to know, that even though they might not understand or agree with those decisions, those decisions really are (hopefully) for the best, and that by my telling them these reasons, they might be able to step back after the shock of it all and see the bigger picture. That’s what the Texas Rangers are trying to create, isn't it? A bigger picture? A picture that forever stakes their claim in baseball history?
Now to my point: I’d like to offer my services to you and the Texas Rangers. Think of me as your real life connection between the club and the fans. I wouldn’t be there as someone simply collecting a paycheck, therefore possibly having no true allegiance to the organization. Instead, in me you’d have a person who, as mentioned earlier, can separate the business side of baseball from the fan side. I’d be willing to be your voice, your not-so-typical communication piece to the masses. I could answer the Facebook and Twitter cries that suggest, in not-so-nice ways, that you and the organization don’t know what you’re doing. In fact, I’d be willing to consider quitting my current job and come to work for you for free. I know, it sounds crazy, but that’s how committed I am to making this thing between you, me, and the rest of the world work.
My wife doesn’t know of my plan to come work for you and the Texas Rangers organization yet, so I’m sure she’s not going to be happy on my making such a life-changing decision without involving her, so we may have to negotiate leftover hotdogs and nachos into my contract. Also, I’d like permission to wear my Michael Young jersey or T-shirts on casual Fridays. He might be gone, but for me he’ll never be forgotten. Lastly, should my wife kick me out, I may need a place to crash for a while, so a cot in the clubhouse might be in order. How is your coffee in the break room? Never mind, we can discuss that stuff later, at a more appropriate time.
Thank you for taking the time to hear me out and for considering my offer. I look forward to hearing from you at your earliest convenience.
Sincerely,
Brad Simmons
