I knew why he felt that way. But he confirmed it for me.
"He doesn't seem to have much to say."
It's true. He doesn't. But that makes him the perfect pristine canvas on which to imprint our own notions of what he would say if he said anything.
What we have imprinted on
Utley is the earnest workman who performs his job without complaint. He's the guy next to you on the assembly line who quietly screws a nut onto every bolt that passes him.
But isn't this the same guy who, later, gets a layoff notice and comes back to the plant to empty his Uzi at everybody on the 4-12 shift?
"I'm really surprised," his neighbor told a TV reporter. "He never had much to say."
Utley's f-bomb, like all bombs, seemed to come from nowhere.
I heard it on TV with three guys in a poolroom in Maple Shade, N.J. The word is uttered so often in poolrooms, you'd think it was a technical term in billiards.
But even they were shocked.
An average golfer's tongue slips once per round. But they were shocked the first time they heard Tiger Woods fail to delete an expletive after air-mailing his drive into the drink.
Women and children scurried for cover. Grown men looked as if their jaws had come unhinged.
That's because Tiger is nearly invisible between rounds of golf so we get to project on him whatever we want. That wasn't what we expected of him.
I doubt that Chase Utley will suffer any sanctions because of this. Tiger certainly hasn't. In fact it will burnish their image with a certain set that is looking to elevate this form of expression.
The difference, of course, is context. It's one thing to let go a profanity when you stub your toe. It's something else altogether as an expression of joy.
So there's a slight smudge on the blank slate that had been Chase Utley. He lost the advantage of anonymity that served guys like Michael Jordan and Steve Carlton so well.