There won't be a party if this is Jeff Kent's farewell
T.J. SIMERS
It will be a cold, abrupt end to a Hall of Fame career, and a fitting farewell for time so misspent in Los Angeles.
Jeff Kenteff Kent is scheduled to undergo surgery on his left knee this morning and spend the next few weeks listening to Scully.
You just know then it will be a speedy recovery.
If this is it, though, the knee worse than initial medical reports indicated, then it will be a cold, abrupt end to a Hall of Fame career, and a fitting farewell for time so misspent in Los Angeles.
Kent came here known best as a hard-nosed jerk, and leaves the same way, successful for the most part in convincing the world he's mad at everyone living in it.
He should be leaving as the respected pro with gaudy baseball stats behind his name, someone who reported to work every single day, playing as if every single day mattered.
Instead, he leaves as the player who bad-mouthed Scully, no way for any Dodger to go out, making it "jerk" with an exclamation point.
Kent ignored every suggestion to soften his image, and dismissed the chance to retract his Scully comments before they made it into the newspaper because he took pride in saying something no one else on the team would dare say.
For someone so smart, he sure could be stupid.
When the story lingered, he appeared dumbfounded, and yet he grew up here. The fans in Dodger Stadium booed him, got on him in Philadelphia, Washington and across the Internet.
He became more grouchy than grumpy, even sullen, complaining that it should have been a "one-day story," but Page 2 wouldn't let it drop. Check with F.P. Santangelo, and maybe he can explain.
Kent was stung by the public criticism, quick to point out, of course, that he pays no attention to criticism or booing fans or Internet gibberish, although he hears it all and reads every word.
There might not be anyone more sensitive on the Dodgers, certainly no one fighting harder to disguise the fact, and then throw in Manny Ramirez's arrival.
The young players immediately gravitated to Ramirez, each one expressing their admiration for such a great hitter.
It bothered Kent, because as the team's resident veteran, he thought every one of them should be looking up to him, clueless when it came to understanding why they did not.
"He's one of those players whose actions are supposed to make you understand what he thinks," is how Manager Joe Torre described Kent. "It's the old pro thing."
