Manny Ramirez can get back to being an intermittently-entertaining nutcase now that he finally signed that fucking contract. The all-world slugger/all-universe flake is staying with the Los Angeles Dodgers after he nearly haggled his way out of $45 million for two measly seasons. Most people would regret possibly losing a shot at $4.50 these days, but reality's standards have never applied to this baseballer, who is either a careless free spirit or a detestable weirdo jackass -- it's your call.

What's indisputable is that Ramirez is the equivalent of a slightly less productive and much less drunk Babe Ruth. He may be the only member of the 500-home run club who is both 1) untainted by accusations of steroid consumption and 2) not in the AARP or Baseball Heaven. Ramirez doesn't just swing for fences, either, as he owns a fantastic career .314 average; he hits the ball both frequently and far.

It's that sublime aptitude that has allowed him to get away with being a character that borders on brattiness. His eccentricities have spawned the nauseatingly familiar phrase "Manny being Manny," an expression as irritatingly clichéd to sports fans as "Deal or no deal?" is to everyone else. The contrast between his tremendous abilities and weirdness was most prominent when he played for the Red Sox: Boston fans who grew weary of his harebrained tendencies will nonetheless adore him eternally for helping the franchise win two World Series in four seasons. They hated someone they also loved; it's as if the fans and player were married.

While he helped bring titles to a squad that last triumphed during Charlemagne's reign, he also frequently acted foolish for the same reason that a dog will lick its balls -- because he can. For one, Ramirez faced allegations about loafing his way out of Boston; unhappy for whatever reason, he supposedly made an effort to make a lack of effort. Specifically, observers accused him of not running out ground balls, becoming so thoroughly unproductive in the process that the team was forced to trade him. Not trying hard enough is the one thing all sports followers consider unforgivable, as games are worthless without the integrity of effort. Pout if you want, but play hard, ya bastard.

It's both unfortunate and unsurprising that he was also once spotted in a bar during a stretch when he was missing games with a sore throat; the sort of medicine to which he would have access to in a tavern doesn't really cure anything. As for more active unruliness, there was the moment last June when he slapped then-teammate Kevin Youkilis in the dugout. He should have at least had the sense to engage in face-smacking in the privacy of the locker room so as to avoid having his "Rick James, bitch" moment caught on camera.

Accosting a fellow employee is best done in private, a lesson he applied later that month, when he shoved the team's traveling secretary during a dispute over a request for free tickets. Couldn't he just have asked nicely -- of paid for more seats? Then there was the incident last season where he high-fived a fan in the outfield stands after making a catch; it was a moment that induced grins among even somberly hardcore baseball purists. The fact he then doubled off a runner didn't hurt, either, as Manny characteristically followed foolishness with a phenomenal athletic feat.

Ramirez is also known as much for how he looks as how he plays, as his lengthy, borderline unruly dreadlocks are part of his charm. Imagining him without them would be like seeing John Shaft without the moustache.

That's why news about his excruciatingly slow contract talks seemed especially dreadful: Ramirez seems like the most un-businesslike human being imaginable. The tedious drama as reported by the even more tedious sports news networks, would feature an update each day about how there was no update that day. Even more frustrating is that nothing changed despite all the bargaining: he ended up pretty much accepting the same offer the Dodgers made ages ago. His agent wanted him to get all his money immediately, while the team wanted to defer some payments for a few years; the team won, if paying $25 million over time for him this season and $20 million for a player-option year in 2010 can be considered a victory.

There's nothing worse than a rich asshole agent and an unfathomably wealthy sporting club bitching about stipulations for a ludicrously prosperous outfielder. All parties should've inked the agreement weeks ago. But signing immediately would have made sense, and that wouldn't conform with Manny's odd take on existence. The question has always been how many of his quirks fans should embrace. Is he an entirely colorful individual who stands out in a bland world of corporate sporting automatons? Or just a flaky ditz who lucked-out by being born with ungodly talent? Yes, and...yes. At least now all is agreed, Manny can get back to goofing effortlessly toward baseball immortality.



Anthony Bialy is SG's no-jocks-required Sweaty Pursuits sports columnist. He follows sports religiously even though he's quite bad at them. He ran cross country and played rugby in college, and was horrid at both. He schedules his life around his favorite NHL team's games, and sadly lists his alma mater winning the NCAA basketball championship as his happiest moment. He likes other things besides sports, too, and requests a minute to think of them.