After further reflection, the sheriff's sale strikes me as a good metaphor for today's trade deadline activity. Sorely deliquent in the win columns, the tawdry Pirate household endures foreclosure. The rest of the league showed up, sniffed and poked, shook their head. They took much of the furniture. There goes that pool table, there goes that hot tub. There goes the crystal, the everyday china, that sports car which looks good but cannot get you to work and back reliably. And so and so forth. Some of the items got more than I might expect. Others got about what I expected, but nothing got more than twenty cents on the original dollar. It was sad.
Trading whatever it took to land Shealy would have provided a good distraction. And evidence that the Pirate household had changed its ways. No more would they trade Aramis Ramirezes, squander Chris Sheltons, or acquire Jeromy Burnitzes. It would be nothing but high-ceiling prospects at three years for one million dollars.
Regardless, whatever, it was nothing as bad as the team's current record.