It is with a heavy, angry, and somewhat curious heart that I make an announcement this morning. No, I am not running for president. My announcement is this:
Starting today, I will no longer speak directly with the media.
I could have written, Jimmy Scott will no longer speak directly with the media, but you would have made fun of me. So I stuck with the familiar first person and left it at that.
Your first thoughts are probably:
- Why?
- How come?
- Why?
2008 is going to be my last season as an active player on a professional baseball field. It will be my 20th big league season. In 20 years, I have experienced more, uh, experiences than you can imagine, if only because I spend my time with wealth, fame, privilege, and 24 other ultra-competitive individuals from America, Japan, Latin America, Canada and a few odd islands I still don't think really exist. I want to do something special this year. I want to remember everything without asking somebody to ghostwrite it for me. I want this to be my Swan Song.
Next question: What is the "this" you just referred to?
The "this" I referred to a moment ago is what you are reading. My almost-daily blog. Do you want to know how I'm feeling? Do you want to know what I thought after being taken out in the 5th inning with my team up by 2 runs? Do you want to know how my rehab is going? Do you want to know about my teammates, my family, my manager, how an organization is run, if we do drugs or hoard needles and steroids and ask our personal trainers' personal trainers to inject us because we're not scared of a 100 mph fastball coming at our heads but because two-inch needles give us the heebie-jeebies? Do you want to know everything?
You'll get it now.
Another Why? comes up.
Because, is my answer. Very childish, yes, but I don't want to go into the real reasons why. Wait. Look what I just did. I almost held back. You see, that's what we do. We are taught and trained and told to hold back. If a fan or reporter or wife or daughter asks you something about the road or your life or how you feel, we know, as if it's in our blood, to skirt around the issue. Say as little as possible. When in doubt, utilize cliche. Professional athletes, especially baseball players, would make great politicians.
Maybe I should run for president.
But here's why I am doing this. Remember, this is hard for me. And it'll get harder as the season progresses. More on that in a minute. I am doing this because I've had enough. I turn 40 on April 12. I think I'm going through a latent maturity period. We're little boys, the ballplayers you see on TV or the summer ballfield. We get paid insane amounts of money to play a game. Yes, it's a multi-billion dollar business. But for us, it's still the game we played in our backyards when we were boys. We get toys. We get little discipline. We get to yell and swear and use words in the locker room that would kill a presidential bid before the words "I'm running for president" were even written down. We get to fight. We get to meet women. Lots of them. We get to drink and carouse. We get first class treatment. Bottom line is, we get what we want.
I'm sick of it.
I attended a charity function last night. Mistakenly, I brought my two girls with me. They're both 15. I forget when they turn 16, but it's too soon for me. I'm proud of my girls. They're smart and beautiful, like their mother. But they're 15. While I'm going through a latent-maturity period, they still sleep with stuffed animals. I haven't done that in months. But they wanted to go last night. They begged. Pleaded. Vanessa was in Chicago at the wing of St. Barnabus named after us, giving a speech. She wasn't home to put her foot down. I was home and couldn't put her foot down. I told them okay.
They dressed nicely. 15 year old girls can easily look 23 if a parent with no feet lets them use makeup. I am 39 but looked 42 because of the hair recession and remaining pot belly from my months of heavy usage. The three of us entered the event looking unlike we usually do.
Here's where I get mad. My twin girls explored. I chatted with some guys, one of whom spent an hour asking me to help him get signed to any team that had a slot available. While I'm no agent, nor would I ever want to be one, he thought I could help him because my incredible success has given me the right to speak in the third person. Jimmy Scott said he'd try. I'm Jimmy Scott.
My twins split up at some point during this hour. I could see Grace at the bar, not drinking alcohol, but speaking with two players. They aren't teammates of mine, but they know who I am. I know who they are. (It's a fun game, but only a select few can play.) They apparently didn't know who Grace was. Before long, they were hitting on her. Big time. At some point, a little bird whispered in their ears that the girl they were hitting on was my daughter. And she was underage.
That didn't stop them.
Like I said. We're babies. We're used to getting what we want, especially off the playing field. They weren't going to win this prize tonight. I intervened, and let's just say, while I ended up on my back, I didn't get hurt. And most important, neither did Grace. These two guys made a mistake and will apologize to me soon enough. But the fact that they continued with their pursuit of my daughter after being given her identity still makes my blood boil.
To make matters worse, after grace and I collected our coats and Alyssa and were driving home, the following exchange occurred between me and Alyssa:
Alyssa: I saw your friend.
Me: Who?
Alyssa: XXXXX. (Ed. note: I won't reveal names. You'll have to settle for truth without them.) I saw him... You know.
At this point I squirmed a little, full knowing what she saw was probably (hopefully) the first time she ever saw something... sexual.
Me: Maybe you shouldn’t tell me.
Alyssa: Tell you what? I saw your stupid teammate screwing some stranger? What? Are you okay with that?
Me: No! No, definitely not.
Alyssa: Is that what you do when we’re not around? If we hadn’t gone with you tonight, would somebody else’s daughter have caught you -
See? Right there. Is there ever a father who wants his daughter to question his fidelity to her mother/his wife? Would any father ever want to be put in that situation? God, it was horrible. But, as someone in a latent-maturity period, I showed how I'm still more latent than mature. Read on:
Alyssa: Are you going to tell his wife?
Me: No.
Alyssa: Then I will.
Me: You don’t tell anybody. Got me?
Alyssa: Why? If we don’t aren’t we like accomplices?
Me: It’s... What XXXXX did tonight was his business. Not mine. Not yours. If he wants to do that to his wife then that’s his problem. I’ve seen too many clubhouse brawls over this stuff. Whatever you say’s just gonna come back to me. It’s best to let it go.
Alyssa: Fine.
Me: And don’t tell your mother about tonight. Any of it.
Alyssa: Great. Two secrets now.
What kind of father am I? I put my young, impressionable daughters in adult situations and then I blow it each time. My fault. I take all the blame. But I also blame the system. (Which means I don't take all the blame, obviously.) The baseball system. The player who cheated, the players who hit on my kid... They should know better. And they shouldn't involve teenage girls. My teenage girls. I never should have brought them with me. But they never should have had to deal with those situations BECAUSE WE SHOULD KNOW BETTER! We are grown men. We aren't boys. But we continue to act that way. With nobody to stop us. Now I'm stuck with my kids thinking I condone marital infidelity. I don't. But it's too late for them to believe me.
When I was a kid and I did something wrong, I got spanked. Dad was never around, but Mom's hand somehow was. I didn't always learn my lesson. Most times I didn't. But I did think twice before doing something stupid.
In this open letter, I want you to know I am spanking the system. I am upset. You want to know what really happens? You want to know what's really said? I'll tell you.
So why not just give interviews to the media? Because they've upset me too. Vanessa was in Chicago for one reason - to defend herself. She and two other wives came up with a campaign called Candles For Kids, in which kids are encouraged to light candles at dinner, bringing families together at least once a week and teaching about how to save energy and the environment.
She's been crucified. Not the other two wives. Just Vanessa. Why? Because she's my wife, she's outspoken, and because a fire warden who wanted attention thought it was dangerous. He even held a press conference complaining that this program will teach kids to play with fire. He said it could conceivably kill innocent children. The media, as you've seen, has jumped all over her. They don't remember that the program was to bring families together. Families include responsible adults (unless the father plays baseball for a living). Responsible adults would be present when candles were lit. But, because this was taken out of context, Vanessa is now a bad person, promoting childhood death.
I've been misquoted for 20 years. Or my comments have been misconstrued. I've had my comments taken out of context and wrapped around the agenda of the columnist or beat reporter. Yes, these people work hard and try to do their best. But the media has hurt my wife. They've caught me in a bad mood. I'm not going to address them directly starting today. If they want me, they can read all that I have to say here.
I haven't told Vanessa about this new plan. She'll probably not support it. She'll probably ask my mother to spank me because I'm making this decision on pure emotion. I didn't think twice. I thought once, as I wrote this. Here are the groups of people I am going to eventually anger or appear in conflict with because of my decision:
- Vanessa
- My daughters
- Their friends (eventually)
- My teammates
- Opposing teammates
- My manager
- The coaches
- Ownership
- Friends
- Neighbors
- The Media
- The commissioner's office
- Umpires
- My GM
- Ex-players/Ex-teammates
- Probably a batboy or two
- Our charity administrators
- Maybe my agent (there's no maybe here; he'll be furious)
- Me
I know what I'm getting into. But I also have no idea. I am going to be honest about the upcoming season. I'm not trying to hurt anyone. But I also want my world to grow up. The last thing I want is for any future baseball husbands and fathers to go through what I went last night. It isn't fair to the wives, the kids or anyone else.
Media: If you have questions, submit your comments. I'll answer when I get the chance. At least, for now on, if I'm misquoted, it'll be my own fault.
Now on with the campaign!
Sincerely,
Jimmy Scott
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