By now, regular readers and God can attest that our icy list of spitting grievances against Bob Melvin is longer than Halley’s comet; his whiny catalog of postgame excuses, ineffective use of players, and congenital lack of fire barely fill page one in our limitless library of discontent.

But we’d forgive it all, even the losing, if Melvin would, once and for all, fix his fatal managerial flaw, that which irks Diamondhacks like no other, and singlehandedly undermines this proud cowtown’s allegiance to it’s hometown ballteam.

Bob Melvin is a womanly manager. 

Nothing personal, Mrs Melvin. We dont question Bob’s manliness at home, where nary a devoted spouse nor troublesome pickle jar likely escape his grasp. But enough smalltalk – as fans, we cannot even countenance the manner in which your husband walks to and from the dugout. How the spikes of a man, listed at 205 pounds, never actually sink into the ground when he walks has disturbed us for years. As his teams sink in the standings, the stilleto cleats of our 6’4" manager invariably refuse to follow suit, resulting in a mincing carriage altogether unsuitable for a leader of men.

Melvin’s derriere betrays a girlish wiggle when he prances back to the dugout – similar to Norman Bates’ latent sashay up the stairs in the original Psycho.  If you ask us, this largely explains the precipitous decline in ballclub duende since the departure of Bob Brenly, who strutted bowlegged on the field as if the air between his thighs could not possibly accomodate the glory of His swaying $crotum. 

Have you caught a glimpse of Roberta in a cold weather city like Milwaukee or Pittsburgh, donning the puffy satin jacket? Severely cinched at the waist, she appears bosomy and top heavy, as if easily toppled by a stiff breeze or vociferous argument.

Bobbi’s fingers are thin and feminine, like the digits of a concert pianist. When she points at an umpire in an alleged rhubarb, she looks to be pointing at rhubarb in a farmer’s market. She alternates between thumbs forward and thumbs back positions when placing hands on hips, just so, in the middle of a brouhaha. Add a new bright red belt to the ensemble, and you’d swear she was a fidgety dressing room attendant at Talbots or Fashion Bug.   

Melvin probably watches what he eats and exercises daily, and looks like a self conscious paragon of virtue you’d find on the cover of Men’s Health magazine. Whatever happened to a man’s manager, unconscious of how he looks through others’ eyes? A prickly, malodorous leader of men, who packs two pair of underwear for road trips and doesnt suffer the supercillious excesses of modern male hygeine. An obsessive personality divorced from responsible diet, and married to booze or tobacco – preferably both.

A  man like Earl Weaver or Whitey Herzog.

A man other men can look up to.

Without the heels.

(baseball photo courtesy Matt York/AP)

Before last night’s loss to the Cardinals, another humorous Bob Melvin quote was captured, this time about his team’s recent 1-5 road trip:

"It was not a very good experience, but you just have to move on."

Diamondhacks was hoping, yet again, this meant Bob was finally leaving the organization, but that’s what we get for jumping to conclusions. As was all too evident from last night’s loss, Melvin has not yet left the building.

We also find the Arizona Republic’s observations about the same trip more illuminating:

They came home dreary and dysfunctional, out of tune, out of excuses and out of chances after a 1-5 road trip punctuated by a no-hitter at the hands of Marlins rookie Anibal Sanchez.

And we totally dig McManaman‘s cheeky reference to Melvin’s glossy, self-serving corpspeak:

Move on? Hardly. This team has lost eight of its past nine, 16 of its past 20 and a ton of ground in what once was a winnable National League West.

Spot on, McManaman. We imagine it must get sickening after a while, as a serious reporter, to simply transcribe a manager’s bland, self serving bromides game after game, when the reality you see in the clubhouse and on the plane is so much worse than the pusillanimous company line.

Diamondhacks has been calling for the dismissal of Bob Melvin since not long after he smartly filled in for current ownership’s curious first choice, Wally Backman. But we welcome latecomers  to the Fire Bob Melvin bandwagon, whether they be fans or media, regardless of past disagreements we may’ve had about Melvin’s managerial merits. No hard feelings here.

it’s time to move on.

PHOENIX– Whatever TV programmer had the merciful foresight not to televise episode 4 of this week’s serial Diamondbacks collapse deserves high praise. A newspaperman, however, paid to witness the Labor Day debacle, best summed up the team’s recent play and September prospects:   

These days, no lead is too large, no inning too late, for the Diamondbacks to squander. In Washington, they had leads in the eighth inning in three straight games. They lost all three times. On Monday, they led 5-0 after the fifth. They let in six runs in the sixth inning.

Thanks to that kind TV programmer, Phoenicians were spared the petulant, head cocked to one side, fingers strumming through the hair freak show that Bob Melvin’s postgame press conferences have become. But we were not spared this with our morning Earl Grey:

"It’s frustrating for everybody," manager Bob Melvin said. "We come out and play hard every day and in three games the eighth inning gets us and then today a different inning."

Or this:

"He [ E. Gonzalez] doesn’t give up a hard-hit ball until the ball Borchard hit. Up to that point, it was as well as he pitched all year."

Oh yeah, those innings, especially those eighth innings, they’ll coldcock you if you’re not careful. And rest assured that the sixth inning, when his starter ( who rarely reaches the sixth) yielded six runs to lose a five run lead and the game, wasn’t Bob’s fault either.

Huh?

Melvin is fresh off squandering four consecutive games in improbable, indeed historic, fashion by making almost every wrong move imaginable, yet his team is A) sufficiently motivated (they "play hard every day"), and B) they are the victim of innings (rather than, say, better managed opponents). 

Anyone else see a fifth consecutive loss in their sights?

Just before the Diamondbacks lost their tenth game in thirteen tries, in the alleged heat of a wildcard race, there’s this gem from the clubhouse:

"I called this the nicest team in baseball," said DaVanon. "Everyone’s overly nice. I can’t say anything bad about my teammates this year. I’ve had a lot of fun."

Based on this, and Jeff DaVanon’s MLB service, it’s apparent that Bob Melvin’s team is nicer than, say, Mike Scoscia’s 95-67 Angels last year, or the 92-70 team the year before that. Nicer even, than the 2002 squad that won the World Series.

Swell.

There’s more from the cheerful outfielder, eager to return in 2007.

"Bob has been a very good communicator with me, that’s so important for a player," he said."

Good to know, Jeff.

Hat tip: AZ Snakepit

Let me get this straight. The Diamondbacks are 3 games back in the wildcard loss column, yet every day, more fans and scribes appear to be calling it a season.

In August.

Before this weekend, when Arizona actually led SF in the standings, club color analyst, Ken Phelps, was on record that he liked the Giants chances more than those of his current employer. That same week, Brennaman and Grace decried Arizona’s collective lack of urgency. Even AZ Snakepit is in the process of nailing his favorite team’s proverbial coffin.

History teaches that a plethora of playoff teams have recovered from far more precarious deficits. A few have even won the World Series.

So, why all the pessimism?

Brandon Webb is a Cy Young frontrunner and Miggy hasnt lost a decision since June 20th. Valverde is starting to deal. Juan Cruz is where he belongs, as a potentially devastating long man down the stretch. Livan, no longer an ace, still bolsters the back of the rotation and, by extension, the bullpen.

The catching tandem is among the most productive in the league.

The middle infield and double play combo is solid. With Carlos Quentin in right, the rangy outfield is better defensively than any featuring Shawn Green.

You have veteran leaders galore, like Counsell, Gonzo and Livan. Byrnes and Hudson, two of the most enthusiastic players in the game, are approaching several statistical bests. Tony Clark, one of the NL’s most productive hitters last year, is finally healthy. After a slow start, old man Gonzalez has 46 doubles, and Tracy and Cojack can each hit a little. Into this mix, you insert three of AAA’s studliest two-way playmakers: Drew, Young and Quentin, a luxury not afforded any of your competitors. 

Why cant this team get into the playoffs?  Forget the Dodgers and the division. This year’s wildcard is, amazingly, fortuitously, about outlasting the likes of the Reds, Phillies and Padres.

Yet, despite this glaring, parity-induced opportunity, even the franchise broadcasters, the fellows with clubhouse access paid, in part, to be cheerful, already sound like it’s over.

We’ve never seen anything like it.

Diamondhacks doesnt disagree, mind you. In fact, we couldn’t agree more.

But we’ve never seen anything like it.

Well, except for last year.

Maybe someone in management ought to look into that.