Is Derek Jeter fishing for the Marlins?

Jeter, here hitting the home run that became his 3,000th major league hit, has ideas about becoming a baseball owner . . .

Jeter, here hitting the home run that became his 3,000th major league hit, has ideas about becoming a baseball owner . . .

Three decades ago, when Boys of Summer author Roger Kahn bought the minor league Utica Blue Sox, one of the first people he told was “my cherished Brooklyn Dodgers friend” Carl Furillo. “You? An owner?” Furillo replied in amazement. “You’ll be lucky if you don’t have two ulcers by Opening Day.”

Kahn sold the team after a year. But he was (and is) a writer. Players turning owners is almost as rare. The latest possibility may be Derek Jeter, who’s reported to be interested in becoming a major player in any push to buy the Miami Marlins.

Ding, dong, the Miami witch is dead—but almost had the Orioles

Loria, prepared to sell the Marlins, once bid to buy the Orioles.

Loria, prepared to sell the Marlins, once bid to buy the Orioles.

You may or may not remember this, but the first time baseball heard of Jeffrey Loria in earnest, it had to do with the Orioles, in the early to mid 1990s, when then-owner Eli Jacobs decided he had no choice but to sell the team in order to raise cash. John Helyar in The Lords of The Realm told the unlikely story, worth revisiting in light of the news that Loria wants to sell the Marlins and stands to make billions from the sale, as if to prove failure is profit.

The Marlins’ Unknown Soldier

Jennings---out of the frying pan?

Jennings—out of the frying pan?

After the Brooklyn Dodgers lost the 1953 World Series, manager Charlie Dressen asked for a three-year contract. Owner Walter O’Malley demurred, reminding anyone who would listen, “The Dodgers have paid more men not to manage than any other club.” Egged on by his wife, who was said to have written O’Malley a letter demanding a multi-year deal for her husband, Dressen rejoined, “My wife and I got to have security.”

Miami Vice

Three Fish in the barrel . . .

It it possible to make anything resembling sense of the Miami Marlins’ latest l’affaire d’absurd? It is, though not even Edmund Burke (who conjugated the strategic mischief of the French Revolution), Martin Buber (who conjugated the spiritual foundation of dialogue), or Red Smith (whose conjugation of official baseball mischief in his time was second to none) themselves would find it easy to do without reaching first for their preferred distilled spirits.

Ethically, of course, the deal reeks like the dead Fish conventional wisdom claims it to be, particularly in view of:

The Marlins Repel the Blizzard

A not always well-pronounced Fish out of water . . .

Southern Florida just wasn’t made for a blizzard. As it turns out, the Blizzard of Ozz just wasn’t made for the Miami Marlins, a team about which it’s not unreasonable to say nobody really knows for whom it was made.

Exactly a month plus a day after he crowed laughing that the last thing on his mind was the possibility of his execution, Ozzie Guillen’s head dropped into the guillotine basket after king Fish Larry Beinfest, who is not exactly immune to execution speculation himself these days, released the rope and let the blade slide smoothly down the frame.

In Florida, Does Charity End at Home?

The most reliable word involving Logan Morrison, the outspoken young Florida Marlin demoted to New Orleans (AAA) last weekend, is that the Marlins—from manager Jack McKeon up to and possibly including president Larry Beinfest and even owner Jeffrey Loria—think the outfielder needs to “mature” a little more. As in, knock it off with calling out lackadaisical team stars. As in, show up when the team orders your presence at team functions. As in, knock off the Tweeting, Tweetie Pie you ain’t. As in, run along, sonny, you bother me.