A late Tweet last night from Ken Rosenthal (he is everywhere, and nowhere, shadow and flesh) read as following:
Sources: Free-agent infielder Trevor Plouffe to Athletics. Agreement in place. Deal pending a physical.— Ken Rosenthal (@Ken_Rosenthal) January 11, 2017
Multiple outlets have confirmed the signing, including TT's sister wife Athletics Nation. Their version is here. Trevor will take over at third for Danny Valencia, who was moved this winter, and whom I've never heard of.
Plouffe (1986-2017, because he's dead to you now) began his career as something of a utility infielder for the Twins. He played many innings at shortstop, and flubbed many plays. He seemed to fit in better at third. From 2012 to 2015, he averaged a respectable .248/.312/.426 -- nothing spectacular, but acceptable considering that he had good defensive range, if not the most accurate or powerful arm. Last year, injuries limited him to 84 games. The curse of Koskie lives on. Pray for Miguel Sano.
The deal is reportedly for one year, and causes something of a logjam at the corners in Oakland, which is never a problem and always works out fine. Just fine. See the Athletics Nation link above for details. Juicy, steamy details. Unwritten but assumed is that the A's feel all former Twins 3Bs are magic gold. Wait until they discover the terminal anthrax injected into Plouffe's femurs by Twins trainers.
In Oakland, Plouffe (whose wedding anniversary is tomorrow) will join a team that went 69-93 last season, and has a clubhouse notorious for overflows of raw sewage. A's fans, though, like Twins fans in the Metrodome era, are loyal and baseball-savvy. Oakland is also considered one of the most livable cities in America, if you forget that whole earthquake thing.
Oakland is notable for its foodie culture, relatively cheaper cost of living (compared to San Fran, you bet it's cheaper), nice mass transit, bike-and-pedestrian-friendly layout, other good stuff. (Just don't eat anything labeled "Fresh Bay Shrimp." You'll regret it.) The city has a pretty area called "Jack London Square," with upscale dining/shopping amenities. I'm pretty sure the real Jack London would have gotten drunk and burned it to the ground, but hey, times change.
I don't really remember much about Plouffe, except that he caught most balls hit near him, and it was fun going "Plooooooouffe" when he made a key play or came up in a crucial at-bat. What are your memories? Share below. Or not. Or yell at each other about random stuff, or trade sex tips. I'm not on the Interwebz so much these days, I dunno what folks is up to. Bless your hearts and do as suits ya.
All the best to Trevor Plouffe. Let's hope he hears some Target Field "Plooooooooffe" when the A's come to town.
(Postscript: Per request, after being informed this article length was inappropriate, I'd like to note that in his wedding tweet linked a few paragraphs up, Trevor Plouffe referred to his bride as "my Arwen." That's a LOTR reference, a Tolkein thing. And he's used Zep songs as walkup music, and Zep are big into Tolkein. So Plouffe's a damn Middle Earth nerd. This is friggin' cool. My wife said she'd kick me out into the snow if I ever called her "my Arwen," but it's still cool that Plouffe did. There, moar article.)