When I was 21, I dated a girl who may or may not have been psychotic. She was a thespian, though she couldn’t act, dance or sing. The only thing she really had going for her was an unbridled enthusiasm for her craft. I’m pretty sure that’s what I loved about her; that no matter how often she was told that she sucked, she just ignored the negativity and continued to push forward. She knew that someday she would make it.

She hasn’t yet. And she probably never will, unless they open a restaurant where shitty waitresses sing shitty songs in their shitty voices. Then she’ll be a star.

After a year and a half together, she decided that her need to fuck other guys was more important than my happiness, and broke it off. I was heartbroken, but deep down, I knew that it was for the best. After all, that bitch was crazy, and nobody wants to marry a nut job. Also, this allowed me the opportunity to sleep with her friends. But, even with all that, letting go was still a traumatic experience.

What does this have to do with the Marlins?

During the final hour of the trade deadline yesterday, the Marlins banished the love of my life to the deepest, darkest depths of the bench. When it was announced that Washington first baseman, Nick Johnson, would be headed to Florida, it most likely signaled the end of Emilio Bonifacio’s usefulness to this team. Johnson would take first, Cantu would move to third and E5 pull up a comfy seat in the dugout.

If my relationship with Emilio were posted on Facebook, it would, no doubt, be listed as: it’s complicated. He frustrates me more than any player I’ve ever watched, because he’s not particularly good at anything. He can’t hit, can’t draw walks, can’t field, doesn’t know how to iron and leaves the seat cover up after taking a piss. But in those rare moments, where he finds himself on the base paths, he’s like a beautiful gazelle.

Dan Le Batard has said that there’s nothing in baseball more exciting than a line drive in the gap, with Emilio Bonifacio on first. I would agree. Watching him sprint around the bases like a cheetah chasing a wounded animal causes a funny feeling to brew in my pants. He’s that exciting.

I know this team is getting better by adding Nick Johnson. Hell, I know they’re getting better by simply removing Emilio from the playing surface. I just can’t help but feel like this team will be missing something. That, as I watch Nick Johnson round second base, with all the speed of a crippled hippopotamus, I’ll feel empty inside. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but it’s hard to let go of someone you love, even if he/she drives you nuts. Even if you realize that it is for the best.

Emilio Bonifacio… I wish I knew how to quit you.

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