Friday column: Talk about your easy prediction

Last week, I wrote about 14 Little Leaguers who — in just a few days together — discovered the importance of team. Today, I write about a pro athlete with no sense of team.

No, that might be unfair; I'm sure he, his agent and his accountant are very close.

Yes, I'm talking about Manny.

Ramirez's breakup with the Dodgers came as a surprise to no one, including some New Mexican columnist who in 2008 — after Ramirez quit on his previous club and forced the trade to L.A. — wrote the following:

"On his way out of Boston, Ramirez said the Red Sox didn't deserve him. He was dead wrong. The Red Sox covered and made excuses for their petulant hitting star for years, and when he turned on them, they deserved him, all right.

"And when it turns ugly in L.A., his new enablers, the Dodgers, will have richly deserved it as well."

And richly they did.

The Dodgers welcomed Ramirez, smiled at his dreadlocks, laughed at his antics, made excuses for his behavior in Beantown, and rode his umm ... let's call it unnatural ... hitting as far as they could.

The Dodgers named part of the left-field stands "Mannywood" and held special promotions to take advantage of the aging slugger's popularity — popularity so great the Dodgers signed him to a two-year, $45 million deal in the off-season.

Such largess appeared justified when L.A. started the 2009 season like a rocket, jumping off to a 61/2-game lead. Manny was never more beloved. Then came May and Ramirez's 50-game suspension by Major League Baseball — reportedly for testing positive for artificial testosterone and for using a banned fertility drug that steroid cheats use to restart their natural testosterone production.

Without their star hitter, the Dodgers fizzled.

"Somebody punched a hole in the balloon," said Joe Torre, Dodgers manager and chief excuse-maker.

By the time Ramirez returned, the Dodgers were not the same, and neither was Manny.

No, let me rephrase that. He was still the same me-first greedhead. He just wasn't the same hitter, and this injury-plagued season has been the least productive of his career. Not only was he no longer juicing, now with the Dodgers' money in his pocket, he was no longer even pretending to care.

In his final appearance as a Red Sox, he didn't bother to take his bat off his shoulders. In his final appearance in Dodger blue, he couldn't be bothered to even look at three pitches, instead getting tossed out of the game for arguing with the ump after a single delivery.

(The laughter you hear is coming from Boston.)

The excuse making already has started with the White Sox, who took Ramirez off the Dodgers' hands in hopes he can do for them what he did for L.A. in 2008. If they do more than rent his bat for the rest of the season — actually sign him for next year — they, too, will richly deserve whatever Me-Manny-Me serves up.

Contact Jim Gordon at gjames43@msn.com.