"Jim Johnson, defeated, walks back to the dugout, enduring a shower of relentless boos from the stands in Oakland on a day which would turn out to be his last in an A's uniform"
I was angry on day one. Ten million dollars to a relief pitcher, unless his name is Mariano Rivera, cannot be justified. I wanted Billy Beane to take it back. I wanted to wake up from this bad dream.
Once the initial grief left my psyche, I was filled with optimism. I knew saves were a next-to-worthless stat, but 101 of them... That had to- had to- mean something. It had to mean that he was good. It had to mean that he was worth at least a large fraction of what he would be getting paid. Had to.
I was excited to have an elite, all star pitcher on my team's roster. The money was already spent, so there was no point in resisting it. I scrolled through my inbox for the sole purpose of passing time as I was awaiting opening day.
Opening day. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, protectors of all that is good and holy, deliver me from Jim Johnson. In what was supposed to be a ceremonious day on which was held a winnable game, Jim Johnson blew it. In the words of umpire Jim Joyce, he "kicked the s**t out of it." It was painful to watch, as the Indians went on to win.
This, over the course of Johnson's most atrocious season, turned into a routine thing that no longer carried with it justification for throwing my dinner at the TV. When watching a game in Oakland, I left to stand in a long concessions line as soon as Johnson stepped on the mound. When watching the game on television, Jim Johnson's presence prompted me to turn to the Giants game and root for whatever team they were playing against. I found myself, in this state, rooting for many national league teams as a result of my hatred of the Giants and my lack of confidence in Jim Johnson.
Then came game two of the series with the Houston Astros. It was the fifth game since the all-star break, a day on which fans were hoping in vain that Johnson had overcome his struggles during the previous week in which he did not pitch.
I wasn't. I knew better.
I watched him from my seat as he was warming up in the bullpen, and I saw that nothing had changed. I'm no professional scout, and I did not carry with me a radar gun, but it only took seconds for me to see that he was throwing the same pitches in the same way at the same speeds. I knew something bad was about to happen. I found myself reluctantly rooting against the Athletics' struggling mop-up man, justifying it to myself by realizing that only if he struggled monumentally would the A's finally run out of excuses to keep him on the roster. I was hoping that he would surrender the go-ahead run and that the A's would walk it off in the 9th. I was hoping that he surrendered, to Chris Carter, a towering shot, the likes of which had not been seen since the days of Frank Thomas. I was hoping that he would walk off the mound for the last time.
I got my wish.
Jim Johnson has been DFA'd and released. Addition by subtraction. Evan Scribner is in the big leagues while there are some more solid arms inland in Sacramento. And Jim Johnson is out of the A's clubhouse.
I don't feel bad for him, though: He walked out of this ordeal with over ten million dollars. Maybe he'll buy a house in Hawaii and live the rest of his life sipping coconuts on a secluded beach. Maybe he'll use the money to buy an Alaskan dogsled outfitter. Maybe he'll pull a Scott Kazmir and sign with an independent league team and work out his struggles with the other "have-beens" and "never-weres." Or maybe another major league team will give him an opportunity somewhere in their organization. Maybe.
But wherever he goes, and whatever he does, it won't be in Oakland. His disastrous tenure with the Green & Gold is over. Deader than the lobster I had for dinner.
Johnson ended up finishing his tenure with the Athletics with a 6.92 ERA and a 55 ERA+, the latter stat indicating that the A's ten million dollar man was just barley better than a pitcher who pitches half as well as a replacement-level player. Thirty three runs (all but two earned) scored off Johnson this season, marking his career high, though he managed to accomplish this in just over half of a single season.
Jim Johnson, I wish you the best of luck wherever you end up. You did not deserve the perpetual contemning from the A's faithful that they gave to you without giving you so much as a chance. Jim, you are a good person with a strong work ethic, and you deserve success.
But, long story short, you didn't find it in Oakland.
Cue Elton John's Candle in the Wind for appropriate exit music.