Editorial for June 29, 2006

The Phils drop the ball

If you’ve been reading all about Brett Myers this week, you now know that the baseball term "lights out" doesn’t apply just to the Phillies pitcher’s ability to blow his fastball past batters.
It also applies to the hit he supposedly laid on the face of his wife Kim during a spat on a Boston street last Friday morning.
We could go on and on about what an uncool move that was. But the media and the sports-radio callers and the bar patrons have addressed that pretty well. Suffice to say that Brett Myers, at 6-feet-4, 220 pounds, is accused of hitting a girl. Even worse, his wife.
Boooooooooo!!!!!
Our problem is with the Phillies. You have to wonder how general manager Pat Gillick and manager Charlie Manuel could have been so clueless hours after Myers’ arrest, declining to discuss the severity of these charges but insisting it would be business as usual for the Phils, with Myers pitching the next day in a game with the Red Sox.
We certainly agree that Brett Myers is entitled to his day in court. We’re not calling for him to be cut from the team, sent to the minors or shipped to the Tokyo Giants.
But if the Phillies brass had any sensitivity, they should have suspended Myers with pay until the issue is resolved. As it turned out on Tuesday, Myers — to his credit — spared his team the need to show a spine by issuing an apology and requesting a three-week leave to address personal issues.
This is, after all, serious stuff. Myers isn’t accused of jaywalking. He didn’t steal a Snickers bar from Wawa, or pass a bad check. He is accused of domestic battery, and if cops found his wife crying and bruised, her face swollen, and Myers standing nearby, you can assume that Mrs. Myers wasn’t accidentally whacked while standing too close to a boisterous re-creation of the Boston Tea Party.
The Phillies should have stepped up to the plate. They may have preferred to look the other way as Brett Myers played on his field of dreams, but in the real world, human decency — and not how hard we throw a baseball — must be the guide that measures our worth. ••

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