Fake Prediction: The Padres Will Win the World Series in 2017

Austin Hedges is a fake non-prospect. The only reason he’s not a hot-shot prospect is because he was a fake major league player in 2015, wasting fake time as a backup at the Major League level due to poor roster construction and a lack of depth in the system. He hardly played, but because of his time spent in the big leagues, Hedges is no longer categorized as a prospect. As such, he is the best fake non-prospect in all of baseball. And while he has a lot to prove, both offensively AND defensively, he’s already a better defensive catcher than Jason Castro. If Austin Hedges hits .180 with 15 bombs and knocks in 50, he might be the team MVP of a fake World Series team. He’s potentially that good behind the plate. No wonder we’re going to have a World Series staff!

I don’t have time to look at everyone on the rest of the team but I will point out a few. We have the face of the franchise, Wil Myers, at first. I hate that term, “face of the franchise.” For me, the face of the franchise is the ticket taker that greets me at the gate. With a big, fat, inviting smile conjuring up a magical kid’s game played on green grass under a blue sky. Or like a cup of cold coffee without any honey in it (yes, I put honey in my coffee; try it!) conjuring up a dreary, 19th century anachronism wasting three and half hours of my life. Myers IS the man, though, and capable of a franchise-altering season like the one he might produce in 2017. Also, if there is a face, you can do a lot worse than Myers’. It’s not even fake, it’s genuine! That sweet, sly, yet somehow still expansive grin could have you believing in anything, even the Padres’ World Series chances in 2017.

At third on the opposite corner is Yangervis. I call him by his first name as I feel a deep kinship with him. Not only because he is the life of the team and makes every fan want to go salsa dancing after another Saturday night W, but because I also lost my significant other to cancer. Thus I share a natural affinity. What he must have gone through last year simply cannot be uttered. It must have been like staring into the face of God and being struck numb. Yangervis, if healthy, will jack 20 and drive in 90, and play with the alegre of a Clemente. There’s nothing fake about Yangervis.

The rest? Youngsters every one. The least talented and least youthful, Ryan Schimpf, may be the best of the lot if last year is any indication. However, last year may have been a fluke. No matter, we would then have Cory Spangenberg, former first round draft pick, hungry to get back in the game after a year wasted to injury. We’re covered at second base.

The outfield has more talent than Jesus. (Well, a fake Jesus anyway.) Maybe I should say they have more talent than the Pirates’ outfield now that McCutcheon is a mere mortal (a fake? an imposter?) and Polanco can be had up and in. My fake projection relies on many interconnected fake hypotheses, one of which is that all four of the much-hyped, young outfielders live up to the billing. Will we be there to collect if they do?

That leaves shortstop, where we’ve had a bunch of fakers playing for years now. Who needs a fake shortstop when you can have a real one? We have a fake one who might just be real, Luis Sardinas, who we picked up for a can of tuna for the final six weeks of last season, who sparkled in a Padre uniform. Well, sparkled in a fake kind of way, making the great play but not dependable enough on the routine ones. The jury is out. Fake news, however, travels faster than real news. Real news must be checked, double-checked, sourced, verified. Fake news just flies, takes off without any impediments. We’ll have to keep an eye on Luis, check up on him constantly, double-check, verify. If he passes the test, he will take off and fly without impediment. If not, there’s more tuna off Point Loma to find another faker.

There you have it. The fake projected 2017 World Champions. Either way, they will be dynamite to watch this year. Can they be ignited? Can they find the means to blow the doors off the NL West? Look out for any developments, but watch out for the fake news.

As far as my second projection, the Padres have organized a celebration this Saturday at Petco of all the remaining sports teams of the region, inviting the teams and their fans from all the respective organizations to come together and have a good time. That’s the Taco Train crying for all to hear, “All aboard!” It is the Padres taking the point on rallying the troops and the spirits of the sports entities left in the wake of the Chargers’ scorched earth departure from town. It may well be a schmaltzy get together full of glad handing and pompous self-aggrandizement, but it’s what we got and we’re lucky to have it. In its heyday, the Taco Train will be full of no-hitters, Western Metal dingers, and thrilling 9th inning rallies, but also meaningful community events like Saturday. Think of it like a family picnic with guest speakers. I don’t know if 2,500 will show up or 25,000, but either way it’ll be fun.

The Taco Train may not change the world, but who wants to change that? The world, in the macro sense anyway, is fine, a universe unto itself. (Admittedly, in the micro sense it is in danger and needs some serious polish.) The Taco Train, however, is going to change history, specifically human history. That’s a horse of a different color. Many colors. All colors. The color of colors. Sandinistas, Starbucks baristas, Make America Great Again Trumpistas, scientific humanistas: everybody’s welcome on the Taco Train. The Taco Train and the Padres shall lead the way. History and the Taco Train are engaged in a Hegelian dialectic fueled by spirit and grace, competition and fire, tied together by destiny and the law. Keep the faith, after all, is the Padres’ mantra. Fake it if you must. Fake it until you make it. Fake it until you can’t fake it anymore. Fake it until the faith maketh you. Don’t be an idiot like the wind that blew on Dylan’s above-quoted song. Get on board, be a difference.

Make a prediction and take aim, see how far you reach. Don’t end up a faker, we have enough shortstops already. Then, when you’re ready, fly without impediment. Fly, fly, fly, the World Series (of life) awaits.

Scott Olesen

I was at the Kirby/Gomez “no hitter” Curse game. I was at the Holy Roller game. Though I love the man and what he did for the Padres, I cried when they retired Steve Garvey’s number. By my estimation I witnessed in person, watched on tv or listened on the radio to over 3,000 of Tony’s 3,141 hits. Jerry Coleman’s initials aren’t J.C. for no reason.