No rise from dough spent on Desmond

Rockies general manager Jeff Bridich went shopping for a shiny, new toy, and all he got for $70 million was a broken popgun.

Ian Desmond sat in the Colorado clubhouse Wednesday afternoon with a cellphone in hand and a chip on his shoulder. He has had a rough season. His statistics gently weep: three trips to the disabled list, five home runs. I asked for a minute of his time.

“Depends on what the question is,” Desmond replied. He never allowed the conversation to get started, gruffly rising from his seat, a grouchy bear in search of a pregame snack.

Well, the real question is: Can the team count on Desmond to finally deliver on the promise of his five-year, $70 million contract when the Rockies need him most?

Their first playoff berth since 2009 within reach, but a brutally tough road ahead, with 14 of the next 17 games on the road, this is not the time for Desmond to be an overpaid singles hitter. Fingers of blame for a frustratingly inconsistent offense have been pointed at Carlos Gonzalez and Trevor Story.

But nobody has been a bigger disappointment at the plate than Desmond, who has missed 65 games due to injuries and been one of the National League’s least dangerous bats during the 74 games he has been in uniform. Ranking 172nd of 177 hitters with a minimum of 150 plate appearances in WAR (wins above replacement), Desmond so badly aches for a taste of success you can practically hear his molars grind.

“He’s hung in there. It’s been frustrating for him,” Rockies manager Bud Black said. “All players want to produce and perform.”

Desmond takes no guff. From anybody. He’s old school, with a competitive edginess that reminds me a little of the Grumpy Gus role Todd Helton played to the hilt for so many years in Colorado. Desmond fancies himself as the enforcer in the Rockies’ clubhouse, setting the tone with the belief baseball might be a game, but there’s scant time for goofing off at the ballpark. There’s only one minor flaw with his toughguy act:

Desmond snarls softly and carries an even quieter stick. At age 31, there’s no pop in his bat. His batting average is a respectable .282, but there’s zero thunder, especially from a player signed by general manager Jeff Bridich as a corner infielder.

That chip on Desmond’s shoulder is the weight of $70 million. It’s a burden.

“Ian has a great deal of pride,” Black said. “I think players, especially (ones) that sign a long-term contract and come to a new team, they want to fulfill that expectation. You know, that’s hard on players.”

Between his injuries (a fractured hand, a strained calf that stubbornly refused to heal) and the slump, a naturally high-strung competitor has found no room to breathe. I feel for you, bro. I would be grouchy, too.

Colorado now departs on its most perilous road trip of the year, with four dates in Los Angeles against the Dodgers and four more in the Arizona desert against the Diamondbacks. Without a helping hand from Desmond, here’s where the Rockies could lose a grip on a wild-card berth.

In a season where success has been defined by outfielder Charlie Blackmon’s unrelenting intensity, the golden glove of third baseman Nolan Arenado and all those nasty sliders from closer Greg Holland, how many times has Desmond been worth the price of admission?

Desmond is the Rockies’ invisible man.

Black said: “There are still so many big games here in September for him to have a big impact, when it means the most.”

Can Desmond do it? That’s the $70 million question.