John Gibbons confiscating Josh Donaldson’s boombox might be the funniest story to come out of Spring Training this year.
So, we all know the backstory about the memo on the board in the clubhouse with the no-music-message because students were writing their exams in the morning at a nearby school.
And we all know that Josh Donaldson did not read the message on the clubhouse bulletin – he would totally be that co-worker that never reads any of the work emails.
So, cue the Lil Uzi Vert (he is a millennial hip hop artist) track blasting as Donaldson rolls out the beats for the boys:
And, of course, the media ridiculously dramatized what went down between good ol’ Gibbers and JD, but that's what trash media does.
Obviously, it’s absolutely nothing, but holy shit it gets even funnier when you really think about the story. Now, I think it would make a great comedic sketch. (I’d like to say a SNL sketch, but who actually watches SNL anymore.)
It involves the perfect characters: the old passive baseball skip and the cool kid on the team. So, for the sake of all things fun, let’s imagine the story from John Gibbons’ perspective in this fictional something.
The Boombox Dust-Up
It’s early Tuesday morning. Beautiful Tuesday morning. Not a blue Monday morning. If you’re a Blue Jay, it’s a warm beautiful day filled with baseball. No desks, computers, Tuesday emails, or grumpy AF co-workers like the rest of us 9-to-5ers.
In Florida, it’s green grass, blue sky, sweltering temperatures, and the sounds of baseball… and Lil Uzi Vert.
There was one very important thing on this Tuesday morning in Blue Jays land and that was a memo. A ‘no music, the kids are writing exams’ memo.
John Gibbons strolls into Dunedin Stadium, coffee in hand, craving some tobacco, and ready to see who will impress him today and then answer the ‘typical’ who has impressed you in camp questions from the media.
He was excited for the peace and quiet that came with this specific Tuesday morning because he wouldn’t have to listen to Lil Uzi Vert. This rapper is someone that Gibbons does not know. Someone that Gibbons does not care about. Someone who will break up Gibbons’ stream of peaceful thought.
And here is John Gibbons' steam of peaceful thought…
Goddamn it’s a beautiful morning. I wonder if it’s too early to steal some of Smoakey’s tobacco. Ha. Just a lil’ dip won’t hurt ol’ Gibbers.
Gibbons walks around the clubhouse looking for Justin Smoak’s chewing tobacco.
Ah, c’mon, Gibbers. The ol’ lady still thinks you quit. Alright, but a lil’ isn’t gonna kill me.
Gibbons stands in front of Smoak’s locker and sees the puck of chew, opens it up, takes some, and sticks it under his bottom lip. He walks over to a garbage can and pours out the rest of his coffee and uses the cup to spit into. He then walks into his office and takes a seat.
Goddamn it. I wish these lil’ squirts at that school wrote exams every morning. Ol’ Gibbers loves himself some time to think. It sure as hell is nice not having to listen to that goddamn shitty music these kids are always playin’ around here. I miss Buehrle. He knows what good music is. Tim McGraw, now that’s music. Goddamn Buehrle, wonder how he’s doing? Wish he would of took me to that concert after the Astros game. Heck, that would’ve been something.
Lil Uzi Vert begins to echo through the clubhouse making all sorts of millennial noise.
Goddamn it… These kids are as dumb as prairie dogs.
John Gibbons stands up, walks out of his office, through the clubhouse, and onto the field. He walks as fast as he can over to Josh Donaldson’s boombox, takes it, and heads back to the clubhouse.
The media watches in disbelief. Josh Donaldson chases after Gibbons. The media tweets:
Gibbons and Donaldson exchange some words.
Probably something like this:
Donaldson: Not in the mood for Lil Uzi?
Gibbons: Ya know, sometimes I think if I put your brain in a bumblebee, it would fly backwards.
Or, maybe something like this:
Donaldson: What the hell are you doing?
Gibbons (dramatically): No. What the hell are you doing?
Who really knows what words were actually said, but holy shit it’s a pretty funny story.
(Side note: Rosie DiManno wrote 3 Blue Jays articles yesterday and touched a bit on the JD/Gibbons thing, so if you haven’t read any of them and you need to have a purple prose laugh – go check them out. You can always count on DiManno turning baseball writing into a cheap paperback romance novella that makes Danielle Steel look like effing Shakespeare. I was actually going to rip into one of her pieces today, but I figured my Troy Tulowitzki Will Not Be Ready For Opening Day, Cue The Knuckleheads piece was enough asshole-me for the week, so I will pass on taking the piss out of DiManno’s prose today.)
So, if you want to get the Rosie DiManno take on the 'dust-up', here it is:
Kind of funny, actually, Gibbons doing his disapproving dad thing, coming out on the field while the players were stretching, to relieve 32-year-old Donaldson of the mini-boombox he often takes out there. A different version of pops telling junior to TURN DOWN THAT MUSIC. But rather a fuss was made of the purported dust-up —more dust bunny, ask me — as Gibbons and Donaldson exchanged a few words, then moved their discourse into the manager’s office.
“I didn’t know why he wanted the speaker off,” Donaldson told the Star. “We’ve had the speaker on several times for stretch before. So I didn’t know what was going on.’’
Didn’t get the memo. Or notice the advisory in the clubhouse, explaining that students at the nearby school were taking their exams on this morning and so ixnay on the music distraction.
“I saw it on the board after,” said Donaldson.
No big deal, no hissy with the skip. “Me and Gibby had a conversation about it. He told me why we couldn’t have music out there today. I didn’t know. But I’ll probably have music out there tomorrow.
“A little disagreement,” countered Gibbons. “I love the guy like he’s my own kid.”
And if that’s what passes for a newsy spring training episode, these must be very placid days indeed for the Jays under the Florida sun.
Indeed Rosie, very placid days under the Florida sun. Days with no hissy with skip.