Terms of Endearment

"Just when I thought I was about to make a clean getaway..." Great line by Jack Nicholson at the end of Terms of Endearment, the only movie that made me cry in 1983 (it was E.T. in '82).



Jack had just paid a visit to Shirley MacLaine, whose daughter was dying. Jack and Shirley had had a little affair together earlier in the movie, and as she drops him off at the airport, she tells him she loves him. Jack continues on, poised to walk into the terminal, when she shouts out to him, asking if he heard her. It's then that Jack says, "Just when I thought I was about to make a clean getaway." Remember his answer? Scroll to the bottom.

Thus, my story today begins with that line. Well, the line it really begins with is one of my final lines of Friday's post, in which I alluded to our front office personnel as "vermin." I don't actually know what vermin are. I just know they're probably yucky. My use of the term was not one anyone could consider endearing.

I didn't think much of my use of that word. It was hidden inside a paragraph and it just flowed out of me. That's what I told my wife, Vanessa.

Me: Like water from a river.
Vanessa: Like stupidity from an idiot.
Me: I like my simile better.
Vanessa: Do you ever think before you do these things? Or do you just hope nobody notices?

You see, Vanessa read my post. She doesn't usually read them, claiming not to have "the time." Somebody in the front office read my post, because that somebody told others in the front office. Of course, the media caught hold at some point during this process, which spread to newspapers, television, the internet... I can't think of any other media. Billboards. No, nobody's going to reprint portions of my blog posts on a billboard yet. They'd need my permission. But I digress. Lots of people ended up reading my comment about the front office being composed of "vermin." Vanessa eventually became one of the "lots of people" and her frustration with me was proof.

I didn't answer her questions, by the way. Still in search of the perfect psychiatrist/psychologist mix, I don't feel I can answer anything deep without consulting with someone who'll give me the right answer to repeat to people like my wife.

So, of course, I'm not speaking to the media, which makes my line blow up even more. And more questions are raised: Do I think all people in the front office are vermin? Even the interns? Even the people from the cleaning service who empty trash cans after 8PM? Or was there one or two specific folks I considered vermin? Either way, didn't I owe an apology to the entire front office, including interns and cleaning service people?

To me, it was clear, if you read the entire post, which most people probably didn't, that I was not calling interns, cleaning people, assistants, assistants to assistants, or the DHL guy, vermin. Those are fine people who don't need to be offended because they should know I was not referring to them. Still, I'll be a big man and apologize to them, their families, their ancestors and their descendants. The front office people who make the front office run are not vermin. They're very nice people with fancy haircuts and nice shoes.

It is clear I was referring to our General Manager, Alvin Kirby, who's been called a lot worse than "vermin" by a lot worse people than me (or is it I?). Alvin is a big boy who can handle a rogue player like me call him a name. Sticks and stones, right? The line it was a little quip I embedded into a much larger post that might have stung a little, from Alvin's perspective, but he's got much bigger problems, such as the sexual assault lawsuit, his pending divorce, the fact that the Vets are 14 and 16. I mean, if he hadn't tried to screw around with my super agent, Jack, and me a week ago, none of this would have ever happened. Needless to say, I apologize to Alvin for the public mockery of his title. He is a respectable man who has overcome a lot, especially racism, to become the first black GM of the Veterans and one of only two black GMs in baseball over the past 6 years. He should be proud of himself. I write that not to patronize, but to point out a point. I'd be damn proud if that were me.

However, the firestorm was in full swing by Saturday night. We blew away Salt Lake at home and were feeling good after winning two games in a row. I pitched an inning, gave up a hit but struck out two. Nice effort, if I do say so myself (and I say it a lot lately). After the game, I showered and walked back to my trailer in the parking lot with Andy, my personal trainer turned security liaison. Guess who's waiting there?

Alvin: Hi, Jimmy. Am I vermin?
Me: Not literally.
Alvin: I'm upset with you.
Me: I guess I can tell, since the team is in Phoenix, your office is in New York, it's Saturday night and you're standing in a Nashville parking lot with somebody who insulted you.
Alvin: Everything's a joke to you, isn't it? Wait, don't answer.
Me: Not answering.
Alvin: May I see this famous trailer of yours?

I bid Andy a good night but told him to stick close in case he hears me scream in terror. Then he could run away.

Alvin followed me inside. He commented on my accommodations, but I couldn't tell if he was insulting me or not. What do you think "small like your pea brain" means? Then he got right down to it. He flew into Nashville that day, a planned trip, to see me pitch and check out some of the team's AAA prospects. He thought I pitched well, better than the reports he'd been getting. I told him I'd been pitching better than the reports he'd been getting for a while. That's why he shouldn't have negotiated to have me play in Nashville for two more weeks. He told me I was $1 million richer because of those negotiations. I agreed and told him I would have settled for $250,000. He smiled. "I would have paid $2 million." I made a mental note to fire my super agent.

Alvin: You've got to stop making controversy with your blog.
Me: You've got to stop doing controversial things to me with the power of your position.
Alvin: I could release you in a heartbeat. Then you'd have nothing to look forward to this year, no seeing your wife and kids after home games, no rapport with the fans who've supported you for 14 years.
Me: It's not good to make decisions like that purely on emotion.
Alvin: Which is why you should think before releasing your stuff.
Me: I see you've been speaking to Vanessa.

We argued a little bit more, but it wasn't really too intense. He knew he was right and I knew he was right. I also knew that I'd probably make the same mistake again.

Alvin: Why can't you learn from your mistakes?
Me: I can as a baseball player. Hit a grand slam off of me and I'll know to throw high and tight to you for now on. But as a human, I am merely mortal.
Alvin: Most people know, eventually, that if they hurt others with their words that they shouldn't do it anymore.
Me: Okay. I won't bring up how you've tried to screw me and my contract twice in the last six months.
Alvin: Good. I won't bring up how you didn't rehab for the first six months after your injury.
Me: I was depressed.
Alvin: I was angry.
Me: As an aside, I'm not going to kiss you when we get to the make-up stage.

Alvin smiled at that. He really has had a rough go of it personally since February, and I assume since before then. Like me, he's made mistakes and probably said some inappropriate things in her non-baseball life. And like me, he just wants to put that behind him and win a world championship this year. If he doesn't, this is probably his last as our GM. And if I don't pitch well, it's probably my last year as a player. Vanessa won't like that. She thinks the controversies I'm going through this year are a direct result of my fear of the future. If I'm driving her crazy now, what's our life going to be like when I'm home every day for the rest of my life?

Alvin Kirby left around midnight. He was going to fly to Phoenix first thing Sunday morning. I had a game Sunday afternoon (we won again, I pitched another shutout inning). Today, Monday, we have another one of those 10:30 AM games. Weird timing. But today is also Halloween Day at Pepsi Field. Show up in a costume and get a free hot dog, courtesy of Ballpark Franks. Looking forward to seeing you at the ballpark today.

Oh, I found out what vermin are: Animals or insects, like cockroaches or rats, that are annoying and destructive.

No wonder nobody considered that a term of endearment.

Jack Nicholson's answer: "I love you too, kid."

My First (Threatened) Lawsuit, And Then...

Vanessa told me it was bound to happen sometime, if only because of the notoriety this blog has received. I was officially given an ultimatum yesterday from team psychologist, Dr. Henry Cohegans: Never mention his name or allude to any conversations we've had or will have ever again or else he'll sue me, based upon my breaking the terms of a confidentiality agreement I signed with him once I started writing this. I have one word for him:

Sorry.

Still, I contacted my lawyer, recommended years ago by Jack Perry, my super agent (I bought him a cape for his birthday. No card, no note, no nothing. Rude.). This lawyer, who asked that he not be identified publicly for his own p.r. purposes, told me that technically I didn't break the agreement. However, he believes I did break the "spirit" of the agreement in the manner that I alluded to our discussions (see March 11, February 22 and February 14 posts to judge for yourself). While this lawyer, probably the finest in the world (like I'd know), is probably correct, I decided to call Dr. Cohegans on my own to try to nip this in the bud before it became bigger than it had to be.

Dr. Cohegans:
Me: Hi, It's -
Dr. Cohegans:
Me: Wow, you're snippy when you're upset. Want to talk about it?
Dr. Cohegans:
Me: That was a low blow. But I'm bigger than that, so I'd like to offer an apology.
Dr. Cohegans:
Me: It is too worth something. What if I promised to make you look hyper-intelligent when I-
Dr. Cohegans:
Me: It is too possible. All I need to-
Dr. Cohegans:
Me: Fine. My lawyer said we should revise the agreement.
Dr. Cohegans:
Me: I just thought it'd be cheaper if we -
Dr. Cohegans:
Me: No, I've never been to law school. Have you?
Dr. Cohegans:
Me: Yeah, but how many classes-
Dr. Cohegans:
Me: Did you pass the bar?
Dr. Cohegans:
Me: So you're real smart. Have you ever thrown a fastball 98 miles an hour?
Dr. Cohegans:
Me: I'm just saying there's one thing I can do better than-

It went on like that for about 10 minutes.

Vanessa told me, before I made the call, that I'd only make things worse. But I like to go to bed at night knowing I did everything I could to improve a situation, be it rehabbing from my injury or getting along better with team management or finding a way to make my girls like me. So I thought, hey, a few minutes on the horn with good ol' Doc Cohegans couldn't do any harm, right?

The official suit was filed this morning. Apparently, the doctor was unhappy with my tact on the phone yesterday. My lawyer, still unnamed (now he wants me to sign a confidentiality agreement too - I'll need a lawyer to read it over first), told me I was, in loose terms, an idiot for trying to solve the problem over the phone.

Fine, Vanessa was right. It's not the first time.

Thus, I am being sued. I've never been sued before. I can take it off of my To Do list now.

How does it feel? Well, he's asking for a lot of money since he's saying I'm hurting his private practice and his professional status with the team, which will thus hurt his pocketbook as well. Terms won't be disclosed here, but I'm sure they'll leak out somewhere, like TMZ, since somebody will have nothing else to do. Let's just say he's looking for more than $100.

If you asked Vanessa how this experience feels, you'll get a much more emotional answer. She was quite emotional with me. That doesn't mean she cried. But her voice was raised a few decibels and aimed in my direction. Hey, she's a great kid and has been correct many times when it comes to what I say and how I express it. In this case... She's probably right again.

I asked my anonymous lawyer if we could counter sue. He asked what we would sue him for. I couldn't think of anything. He told me to let him do the lawyering. So that's what he's doing.

Remember when Bill Clinton was being sued all the time while president, and he set up a legal defense fund? I want me one of those. Maybe it should be run by a fan. You can call it The Jimmy Scott Legal Defense Fund. I like the sound of that when I speak it loud. Of course, I spoke it a little too loudly, which led to Vanessa marching into the room and using her decibel-grinding tone with me. So maybe we should hold off on The Jimmy Scott Legal Defense Fund. Then again, I can't control what a few fans do. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

Next steps? I want to call the doctor again. I've been "strongly advised to the fullest extent of the word 'strongly'" not to even mention his name to our cat. We don't have a cat, so I'm good there. I think I'll just let this issue fester in my brain for a bit before figuring out my next steps.

Vanessa, of course, would say there's nothing for me to figure. That's why we're paying the lawyer. To which I respond: That's why we need The Jimmy Scott Legal Defense Fund!

I've never slept on the couch in this marriage, but tonight may be the first time. How will it feel? You can bet I'll let you know after I'm through.

A Quiet Period

We're in the part of the baseball off season where nothing happens. Most, if not all, of the big trades have occurred. The big name free agents have been signed. Managers have been fired and hired. Same with GMs. Players are spread around the Western Hemisphere right now, some working out, some languishing, internally begging for motivation yet externally enjoying just one more day off... And another... And another... Until spring training is 10 days away and they realize they haven't picked up a bat or ball or anything heavier than a TV remote for the last four months. Those are the guys in for a beating.

Now if spring training had started in December, I would have been one of those guys. I did nothing - NOTHING - from the moment my elbow exploded on that opening day ballfield until I opted in to play one more year around Thanksgiving. I got fat. I got more bald. The good part of it was my body had a rest; it's first real rest since I was a little kid. Yes, it's important to keep physically fit. But, he said defensively and somewhat ignorantly, it's also important to rest the body and mind, get them away from what they're used to. Depression can kill your psyche, but can also be a wonder for your tired muscles.

With that said, I threw this theory out to my new shrink on Monday, New Year's Eve. Because of the non-disclosure agreement he made me sign, you can't see his brilliant responses:

Me: I don't know... I'm kind of glad I didn't work out or anything for 10 months.
Shrink:
Me: I don't feel guilty, well, I didn't. Should I?
Shrink:
Me: Oh.
Shrink:
Me: Oh.
Shrink:
Me: Oh.
Shrink:
Me: Well don't I feel like the perfect jerk.

Are you supposed to go into a visit with a shrink and feel good but leave feeling like the world just collapsed? Maybe denial is a healthy thing. Like breakfast cereal.

So my mind is a little screwy right now. My "homework" before my next session is to write thank you notes to everyone in the front office for supporting me during my convalescence. Only most of the people who supported me - manager, GM, assistant GM, coaching staff - are gone, replaced by people who have, let's say, not been as supportive. Maybe instead of thank you notes, I'll just have my agent send them an email. After all, I don't have time to write to them. I've got to get in shape before it's too late.