Every so often, if you read a lot about the auto industry, you’ll hear about the studies car companies—mostly the domestics—frequently do when they get depressed and the grocery store is all out of boutique cartons of ice cream. They’ll pull all the badges from one of their new, unfairly maligned Saturns or Oldsmobiles and show it to a group of potential buyers, and these focus groups will just go nuts over the car. “What is that? Is it German? Looks like it’d run at least $50,000.” Then they put all the badges back on and the same focus group throws up in its collective mouth.
Imagine a perfectly decent utility infielder. He can’t really hit at all, but he has some spotty history of offensive value. He’s an above-average defensive player who will be an asset wherever he’s put and can spot any of your starters. He appeals to some part of the fanbase for some reason. Tony La Russa goes nuts over this player. This player is going to end up at shortstop and second base, which is good, but he’ll also probably end up in the outfield, just because; and he might pitch a few innings in blowouts; and in general La Russa will give him as much credit for bunting a runner to second base as Colby Rasmus gets for tripling down the first base line. This is Tony La Russa’s way.
Now put the badges on and—it’s Brendan Ryan! For La Russa, Ryan’s inability to hit is a personal flaw, and not a limitation; his defense is disappointingly inconsistent, instead of intermittently outstanding; his appeal is not his hustle or his grit but his vaguely irreverent personality. La Russa throws up in his mouth and the Cardinals trade him for nothing much.
Trade the badges for a coat of dirt, inferior defense, five extra model years, and a can-do attitude, and you have Nick Punto, for whom the Cardinals just paid $750,000. Punto’s a nice bench player and not all that much worse than Brendan Ryan, but the Cardinals could have saved a lot of trouble if La Russa were able to look past the brand name just this once.
