When Did Firing Someone Get So Confusing?
By Cecilio's Scribe on Oct 02, 2009 with Comments 1
I used to think firing was fairly straightforward. The Donald always made it look damn easy. Stare person in face. Tell them they are fired. Fired person then immediately leaves room, grabs bags and leaves. Not that hard a concept, right? Same thing used to apply to sports, for the most part. There were also some general unwritten rules, if not guidelines on how and when. Folks got fired at the end of a season, in the offseason or sometime during the middle of the season when a new guy would have a chance to show some improvement.
Ahhh, if only things were so easy today. On Wednesday, Eric Wedge got canned with six games left in the Tribe’s dismal season. He and his entire staff were shown the exit, except they have the pleasure(!) and privilege of staying on through the final week of the season. Right, because that makes total sense. Perhaps I’m being an ignoramus (of legal implications and what-not), but wouldn’t part of you want to say: “You know what, I’m just going to leave now?”
Cecil Cooper on the other hand was dumped with 13 games left on the docket, because that’s more than enough time to set the tone for the following year and still gives that last jab at someone’s dignity. So why not, right? Makes a man feel good. It’s not just the right-before-the-end-of-the-season dismissals that are the only weird things going on.
We’ve got NFL teams ditching offensive and defensive coordinators weeks before their regular season openers. Hirings and firings breaking first on Twitter. Coaches slapping each other upside the head…OK, that’s a bit off topic and not completely unprecedented.
Back to firing…
If our ancient sports firing rituals and protocols aren’t sacred, is anything anymore?
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About the Author: Cecilio's Scribe is the founder of The Legend of Cecilio Guante and a generally pessimistic fan of the Mets, Jets, Knicks and Rangers. A fine NYC-based gentlemen who hones his marketing skills as his primary trade by day. Husband, chef, father of a newborn and after-hours blogger by night. Proud alum of the mighty Big Red of Cornell. University. Hot sauce devotee. Staunch protester of the continued wussifcation of American sports. Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick.


hopefully Zorn and Cerrato get fired as I type this