For the sake of our future children, and our sanity, and our heart health, and the safety of others, we really should not read anything that The Manager has to say.
The fact that he even has a job with the team headed into this year, and that he's decided that it is best for him and the team if he hangs out and lets all of the newcomers to the team have the opportunity to sniff his glorious carcass for the next nine months drives us insane. The notion that every time we tune into a game this year, we'll get to see The Manager propped up in the dugout like the corpse of a once-great man is enough to make us want to take a year and really get into the CFL.
We know better than to try to parse The Manager's thoughts on the best way to run the team, because madness is sure to follow. And yet, we just can't help it. We can't keep ourselves from reading the crazy-ass things that he throws out there, almost willy-nilly: Hill and Lind need to stay where they are in the lineup; Vernon's confidence will get tore down if he loses the cleanup spot; it's going to be easier to manager the rotation now that Doc's not here; Brett Cecil might be on the outside looking in. It's all such crazy-ass shit.
We could get into a whole deeper discussion as to what this means, and whether if our current frustration with The Manager makes us feel stupid for ever having revered him. But since GROF already went there splendidly and eloquently, and we prefer not to pick those scabs in our psyche just yet, we'll let it slide for now.
For the time being, we're just going to try to find the positive. We're going to put our trust in AA and Bruce Walton (who we're convinced is going to be awesome) and Brian Butterfield (who is and always was awesome). We're going to look for solace in the quiet turmoil.
Because we might not last the year if we really started to put any energy into The Manager's last stand.