This blog is now dead. It's inactive. I refuse to come back to it.
Or I might if, just for the heck of it, I feel like it. Otherwise, I've got my full website up now. It's called Jimmy Scott's High & Tight. You can go there here:
www.jimmyscottshighandtight.com
It's amazing. Lots of audio clips. Working on the video. You're gonna love it.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Angry Manager, Managing Angry
Look at what happened back in 1993:
Well, now all you need to do is multiply this by about 15 and convert it to 2008 standards. You see, Rick Churches, my manager (who is a bit high-strung), went completely over-the-top nuts last night in the clubhouse. I haven't seen any video of it yet anywhere - it happened right before the press came down after last night's game - but maybe one of the guys here caught it on his cell phone and will upload it in the near future. Anyway, it was nothing like this:
First of all, when Rick went nuts, it didn't take place in the shower. He was sort of half in his office and half out. And he wasn't really yelling at the team. He was just sort of yelling overall at the state of the world. I turned away when he began to bring world affairs into his rant for fear he'd make eye contact with me and I'd start to laugh. I wouldn't have been laughing at him. Well, yes, I would have been laughing at him. And that's just something a player shouldn't do to his manager, especially when his manager is going on a tirade.
It started somewhere in the 8th inning when Rick got thrown out of the game for arguing balls and strikes. You can't do that with umpires. While the majority of umpires are good men who are doing a professional job, some are terrible. Some have giant egos, larger than the egos of people like me, and you can't get past those egos for a second. Rick argued with an umpire's ego and got tossed. We were soundly trounced in a one-game rainout makeup, 10-2, our two runs scoring in the first inning. I think Rick was more upset that we were no-hit the rest of the night. Take away our first three batters and they pitched a perfect game against us.
Nobody likes to be beaten like that. Especially a manager. So Rick went nuts. Kookoo. Over the rainbow. Crackers.
Oh, I wish I had video for you. The papers had a few sentences about it in today's editions, but since Rick was done early, it's all hearsay. None of us (or is it we?) players would be directly quoted as to the full content of his anger. Even here, I'm not going to give you every last detail. Not today. I want to see what the team does in response. Or what Rick does before I spill all the beans and get lambasted for it from everyone I know. So, I'll just confirm that Rick was engaged in fury last evening and we deserved every word he said.
Nearly every word. I'm not completely bald just yet.
Well, now all you need to do is multiply this by about 15 and convert it to 2008 standards. You see, Rick Churches, my manager (who is a bit high-strung), went completely over-the-top nuts last night in the clubhouse. I haven't seen any video of it yet anywhere - it happened right before the press came down after last night's game - but maybe one of the guys here caught it on his cell phone and will upload it in the near future. Anyway, it was nothing like this:
First of all, when Rick went nuts, it didn't take place in the shower. He was sort of half in his office and half out. And he wasn't really yelling at the team. He was just sort of yelling overall at the state of the world. I turned away when he began to bring world affairs into his rant for fear he'd make eye contact with me and I'd start to laugh. I wouldn't have been laughing at him. Well, yes, I would have been laughing at him. And that's just something a player shouldn't do to his manager, especially when his manager is going on a tirade.
It started somewhere in the 8th inning when Rick got thrown out of the game for arguing balls and strikes. You can't do that with umpires. While the majority of umpires are good men who are doing a professional job, some are terrible. Some have giant egos, larger than the egos of people like me, and you can't get past those egos for a second. Rick argued with an umpire's ego and got tossed. We were soundly trounced in a one-game rainout makeup, 10-2, our two runs scoring in the first inning. I think Rick was more upset that we were no-hit the rest of the night. Take away our first three batters and they pitched a perfect game against us.
Nobody likes to be beaten like that. Especially a manager. So Rick went nuts. Kookoo. Over the rainbow. Crackers.
Oh, I wish I had video for you. The papers had a few sentences about it in today's editions, but since Rick was done early, it's all hearsay. None of us (or is it we?) players would be directly quoted as to the full content of his anger. Even here, I'm not going to give you every last detail. Not today. I want to see what the team does in response. Or what Rick does before I spill all the beans and get lambasted for it from everyone I know. So, I'll just confirm that Rick was engaged in fury last evening and we deserved every word he said.
Nearly every word. I'm not completely bald just yet.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Call To The Bullpen
As we've known all along, I'm new to this bullpen thing. I think I've pitched in relief less than 10 times in my career, and that includes the 2000 Series Championship when I came out and pitched the last 3 innings of Game 7 on 0 days of rest (let me just add how I won Game 6 and pitched 7.2 innings - ahh, the glories of a youthful arm). You see baseball from a different perspective in the outfield, behind a big fence. You're not as close, like if you're watching from the dugout. And the TV isn't as good as in the clubhouse, should you slip back there during a game for a beverage or a bathroom break. It's all different, but that doesn't make it bad.
Billy Weston has been this team's closer for 3 years (this being his fourth). I know saves aren't as big a deal to loads of people because most come after only 1 inning of work, but the fact that Billy has averaged 39 saves over his time here still says something about how well he's pitched his 1 inning per game. Nobody expected him to get hurt two weeks ago, especially him. He owned this bullpen due to his dominance. From what I'm hearing, he won't be back for up to four months.
Billy had a a bunch of superstitions whenever the call came for him to start warming up. First, if he was sitting, he had to get off of his butt and take a first step with his left foot (not his right). He had to carry his glove in both hands and make it to the bullpen mound (not the rubber) within 8 steps. In some stadiums, where the mound is farther away from where the relief pitchers sit (like Arizona and Pittsburgh), Billy had to take 8 very large steps. When he tweaked his hamstring in 2006, it was a result of one very large step, some damp ground and a slip. He had to brush his left foot over the entire topping of the bullpen pitching rubber and then take three long, deep, cleansing breaths before asking, in Spanish, for the bullpen catcher to throw him the ball. "Pelota," he'd say. He'd throw 11 pitches minimum and pronounce himself ready. He wouldn't throw any more than 21 pitches for fear of gassing himself too early. And the bullpen catcher had to yell out numbers as soon as Billy got to 8. Just the catcher could do it. Anyone else and he'd get thrown off.
Then there was his music. His theme song was/is "Eruption" by Van Halen. It had to be begin being played, in his home stadium (this goes all the way back to 1997), the moment his right foot (not his left) touched the outfield warning track (definitely before either of his feet touched the outfield grass). He had to make it to the infield by a certain point in the song, skipping over the edge of the grass that separates infield dirt from the outfield, then make it to the mound by another particular point of the song.
I could go on. It involves shaking hands after a save, the way he disrobed after a game on the road vs. at home, the length of time in the shower, etc. It gets a little much.
So when I got back up to the bigs and started spending my time in the bullpen, I was a shock to the inhabitants of this space. I'm not a real superstition guy. I have certain quirks, like what I will and won't eat before a game and what time I need to get to bed the night before, but my ways aren't as colorful as Billy's.
The music, now that's apparently a big deal. Fans really want to get pumped up when their closer comes onto the field. That means the team is ahead and merely 3 outs from victory. The last season and 1/6th (because we're 1/6th of the way through this year), there have been few opportunities for a closer to come out because we haven't won too many games. But that seems to be changing since my call up from the rehab assignment. In the 9 games that we've played since I've been back, I've pitched 6 times. Considering we were 12 and 23 back then and are now 20 and 24, we've made some good progress. We were 11 games back and now we're 7. 7 games from first with 5/6ths of the season to go is not too big a mountain to climb. Especially when you're closer (that's me) is 6 for 6 in save opportunities and hasn't given up a run yet. Especially when your closer has struck out 8 batters in 6 innings. Especially when your closer runs in from the outfield to"Working For A Living" by Huey Lewis & The News.
Huey Lewis & The News? They're supposed to pump the crowd up?
Well, I don't know. I was asked what song did I want and this one popped into my head. I always liked the band and liked this version of the song. It kind of pumps me up. It's upbeat and fun and I like how the harmonica solo leads into a cool guitar solo. So, is it the coolest song for a closer to come in with? Is it "Hells Bells" or "Eruption?? Nope. It's Huey. I like it. It's what I want to hear when that call comes for me to head out and pitch the bottom of the 9th.
And as long as the song finishes between the time I release my 7th warmup pitch and when the catcher catches it, less than a second later, I'm happy. But don't end it early or late. That'll screw up my whole day.
Billy Weston has been this team's closer for 3 years (this being his fourth). I know saves aren't as big a deal to loads of people because most come after only 1 inning of work, but the fact that Billy has averaged 39 saves over his time here still says something about how well he's pitched his 1 inning per game. Nobody expected him to get hurt two weeks ago, especially him. He owned this bullpen due to his dominance. From what I'm hearing, he won't be back for up to four months.
Billy had a a bunch of superstitions whenever the call came for him to start warming up. First, if he was sitting, he had to get off of his butt and take a first step with his left foot (not his right). He had to carry his glove in both hands and make it to the bullpen mound (not the rubber) within 8 steps. In some stadiums, where the mound is farther away from where the relief pitchers sit (like Arizona and Pittsburgh), Billy had to take 8 very large steps. When he tweaked his hamstring in 2006, it was a result of one very large step, some damp ground and a slip. He had to brush his left foot over the entire topping of the bullpen pitching rubber and then take three long, deep, cleansing breaths before asking, in Spanish, for the bullpen catcher to throw him the ball. "Pelota," he'd say. He'd throw 11 pitches minimum and pronounce himself ready. He wouldn't throw any more than 21 pitches for fear of gassing himself too early. And the bullpen catcher had to yell out numbers as soon as Billy got to 8. Just the catcher could do it. Anyone else and he'd get thrown off.
Then there was his music. His theme song was/is "Eruption" by Van Halen. It had to be begin being played, in his home stadium (this goes all the way back to 1997), the moment his right foot (not his left) touched the outfield warning track (definitely before either of his feet touched the outfield grass). He had to make it to the infield by a certain point in the song, skipping over the edge of the grass that separates infield dirt from the outfield, then make it to the mound by another particular point of the song.
I could go on. It involves shaking hands after a save, the way he disrobed after a game on the road vs. at home, the length of time in the shower, etc. It gets a little much.
So when I got back up to the bigs and started spending my time in the bullpen, I was a shock to the inhabitants of this space. I'm not a real superstition guy. I have certain quirks, like what I will and won't eat before a game and what time I need to get to bed the night before, but my ways aren't as colorful as Billy's.
The music, now that's apparently a big deal. Fans really want to get pumped up when their closer comes onto the field. That means the team is ahead and merely 3 outs from victory. The last season and 1/6th (because we're 1/6th of the way through this year), there have been few opportunities for a closer to come out because we haven't won too many games. But that seems to be changing since my call up from the rehab assignment. In the 9 games that we've played since I've been back, I've pitched 6 times. Considering we were 12 and 23 back then and are now 20 and 24, we've made some good progress. We were 11 games back and now we're 7. 7 games from first with 5/6ths of the season to go is not too big a mountain to climb. Especially when you're closer (that's me) is 6 for 6 in save opportunities and hasn't given up a run yet. Especially when your closer has struck out 8 batters in 6 innings. Especially when your closer runs in from the outfield to"Working For A Living" by Huey Lewis & The News.
Huey Lewis & The News? They're supposed to pump the crowd up?
Well, I don't know. I was asked what song did I want and this one popped into my head. I always liked the band and liked this version of the song. It kind of pumps me up. It's upbeat and fun and I like how the harmonica solo leads into a cool guitar solo. So, is it the coolest song for a closer to come in with? Is it "Hells Bells" or "Eruption?? Nope. It's Huey. I like it. It's what I want to hear when that call comes for me to head out and pitch the bottom of the 9th.
And as long as the song finishes between the time I release my 7th warmup pitch and when the catcher catches it, less than a second later, I'm happy. But don't end it early or late. That'll screw up my whole day.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Jimmy Scott's High & Tight
It's launched! "But," you say, "what is Jimmy Scott's High & Tight? Is it a Broadway show? Ooh, I love Broadway. Is there singing and dancing?"
No, it's not a Broadway show, thus, there is no singing and dancing.
"Is it a diner? I love to eat. Do you serve both steaks and chops?"
No.
"Then which is it? Steaks or chops?"
It's not a diner.
"Is it a set of designer underpants? You're almost 40 Jimmy. You're at the stage in a man's life when the pants are either lifted above the stomach or below. Is it a set of designer underpants?"
No, but I like that idea. May I steal it?
"Jimmy," you say with gusto, "I'm stuck. What else can a famous formerly 'greatest pitcher of his generation' do that would be called Jimmy Scott's High & Tight?"
I'll tell you.
Go here: http://www.jimmyscottshighandtight.com/
That's it! It's a website.
"A website?"
Yes.
"What on earth is a great baseball player who is definitely starting to go bald doing with a website?"
Stuff. I'm doing stuff. This blog? It's gonna go up there. The podcast interviews? They're gonna go up there. Video interviews? I'm gonna do some of them and put them up there. Oh, you'll feel joy learning more about my family, my team, our management. There is a Forum section where you can write nasty things about me. There is a poll up with more to come so you can act all American and vote. There are links. You'll see pictures. The list is not endless. It ends there.
"What will it cost me?"
Nothing. I'm a multi-multi-multi-millionaire. What am I gonna do with your money? Spend it on more underpants?
"Lord, I hope not."
That makes 3.2 million of us.
"What do I need to do?"
Go there, young man. Go to http://www.jimmyscottshighandtight.com/. Participate. Comment on blogs. Join the Jimmy Scott Fan Club. Click on the Syndicate button and let the daily website changes come to you. The site is like a ground ball. You need to set yourself into proper position to field it cleanly.
"I don't understand that last metaphor."
Neither do I.
"Are you still gonna blog here?"
Yeah. Still gonna blog, but probably more often. I want to have contests and give things away. I want you to become more involved in my life.
"Will we have sex?"
Nope. Vanessa would be mad.
"Will you have me over for dinner?"
Chances of that are extremely remote. What's in it for me?
"I'll go to your website."
Okay. Deal.
"Will you serve steaks or chops?"
Ha ha. You're funny. Enjoy the website. Enjoy your weekend. Root for me. I'm rooting for you.
No, it's not a Broadway show, thus, there is no singing and dancing.
"Is it a diner? I love to eat. Do you serve both steaks and chops?"
No.
"Then which is it? Steaks or chops?"
It's not a diner.
"Is it a set of designer underpants? You're almost 40 Jimmy. You're at the stage in a man's life when the pants are either lifted above the stomach or below. Is it a set of designer underpants?"
No, but I like that idea. May I steal it?
"Jimmy," you say with gusto, "I'm stuck. What else can a famous formerly 'greatest pitcher of his generation' do that would be called Jimmy Scott's High & Tight?"
I'll tell you.
Go here: http://www.jimmyscottshighandtight.com/
That's it! It's a website.
"A website?"
Yes.
"What on earth is a great baseball player who is definitely starting to go bald doing with a website?"
Stuff. I'm doing stuff. This blog? It's gonna go up there. The podcast interviews? They're gonna go up there. Video interviews? I'm gonna do some of them and put them up there. Oh, you'll feel joy learning more about my family, my team, our management. There is a Forum section where you can write nasty things about me. There is a poll up with more to come so you can act all American and vote. There are links. You'll see pictures. The list is not endless. It ends there.
"What will it cost me?"
Nothing. I'm a multi-multi-multi-millionaire. What am I gonna do with your money? Spend it on more underpants?
"Lord, I hope not."
That makes 3.2 million of us.
"What do I need to do?"
Go there, young man. Go to http://www.jimmyscottshighandtight.com/. Participate. Comment on blogs. Join the Jimmy Scott Fan Club. Click on the Syndicate button and let the daily website changes come to you. The site is like a ground ball. You need to set yourself into proper position to field it cleanly.
"I don't understand that last metaphor."
Neither do I.
"Are you still gonna blog here?"
Yeah. Still gonna blog, but probably more often. I want to have contests and give things away. I want you to become more involved in my life.
"Will we have sex?"
Nope. Vanessa would be mad.
"Will you have me over for dinner?"
Chances of that are extremely remote. What's in it for me?
"I'll go to your website."
Okay. Deal.
"Will you serve steaks or chops?"
Ha ha. You're funny. Enjoy the website. Enjoy your weekend. Root for me. I'm rooting for you.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Media Protection
I love baseball pundits. These are generally men somewhere in their 40s who like to talk and be heard. Much like politicos who you see and hear in all of the roundtable shows that cover Obama and Hillary and Bush the whatever and McCain, these guys like to be guests and they like to be hosts and they like to have their views heard over everyone else's. It's their job to be confident, pompous, arrogant. It's their job to be part of the landscape. They share the spotlight with the players and they love it.
You can tell I'm a little down on them right now. Sure, there are great, great guys who cover baseball, both locally and nationally. There are guys who really know their stuff. Some of them even still play semi-pro ball in their free time. But in my experience, those guys are few and far between. To be in the 21st century sports media, you need to be a certain type of person. You need to be aggressive. You need to be creative. (How is it possible to make someone read your column if you're writing about a last place team that's been in last place for a decade?) You need to be able to make relationships with front office people. You need to get scoops.
I have to see the media every day. There's radio, TV, internet, and print. In New York, we have loads of papers: the Bergen Record, the Star Ledger, the Daily Record, the Journal News, Newsday, the NY Post, the NY Daily News, the NY Sun, the NY Times, the Wall Street Journal (sometimes). We have our team website, the National Baseball League website, CBS Sportsline, Fox Online, ESPN.com, and a bunch more I can't think of. On TV, we have ESPN, our own network, NYS, plus national and local networks: FOX, TBS, WCBS, WNBC, WABC, the CW, My9, NY-1, News 12 NJ and more. There's national print too. Sports Illustrated, The Sporting News. So right there, I've added up 29 different organizations from this paragraph, and that doesn't include the AP, Baseball America, Yahoo! Sports and the 75-100 members of the Japanese media here to watch Kai Goto. This means, before and after every game, a whole lot of people get the opportunity to see me naked. Even worse, they also want to talk to me.
I've been good. I've kept my promise. I haven't spoken on the record to the media since January. I'm so great.
That doesn't mean they haven't quoted me, or quoted others quoting me. You've seen me quoted without my knowledge. Such is the life of a sports superstar. Or a guy like me.
My goal in writing this blog has been for the media to take my quotes from here. They do occasionally. I've read stories in various publications that are based upon the stuff I put here. That's good. It means my plan has worked at times.
But it's backfired more often than not.
I mentioned above the characteristics of a successful 21st century sports media person. I also mentioned how they need scoops. In this particular case, they get angry with me because I've had a couple of scoops they didn't have (it helps to be the only person on the scene willing to write about whatever is happening at the time, like all of my woes with the front office). They're even more upset because they're seeing that I'm now interviewing players and uploading the interviews, unedited, here in this space. I put up my first podcast two days ago. The crowd of media instantly went Hisssssssss. Very upset that I'm stepping a little bit more on their turf. One guy even said, and this sounds straight out of a black & white 1940s film, "Leave the reporting to us."
It's funny. Did this guy, a print person, say that to the Internet crowd 10 years ago when that revolution started? Did he say that about Chris Rock when Chris reported from the Republican convention in 1996? Does he say it about The Daily Show?
C'mon, man. Lighten up. When I quipped something back to him, you know what he said in return? Here it is: "You don't see me on the mound throwing fastballs." No, I don't. And he doesn't see me making a living from writing a blog. Yet, I'm treading on his water. I'm wearing the pants in his baseball family.
He's insecure. And he's not the only one. There are others who are literally afraid that I'm going to start a revolution; that every athlete is going to start doing this, taking organized journalism out of the equation.
That's not going to happen. Most athletes don't want to write their names on a bad contract, much less attach them to something like this. In fact most athletes can't write at all. Sure, we have name power. But power of the pen? Not for the vast majority of us. Other guys blog. It's fun sometimes. But it becomes a hassle too. Once you start, you either have to keep going or quit. I don't want to quit because:
a) I'd be embarrassed
b) I don't want to hear all the world say, "I told you so."
c) All of the above
There was an interesting exchange a few weeks ago between Deadspin's Will Leitch and author Buzz Bissinger. Go here to see it: http://deadspin.com/385770/bissinger-vs-leitch
Bissinger hates bloggers. He thinks they're bad and will bring down journalism.
I'm here today to tell you that is not my goal. I don't want to take away jobs. I don't want to hurt people's feelings. I don't want to outscoop the scoopers. I just want to be heard. Just like the guys who would like me to be silenced.
I won't be silenced, only because you can't make me. But don't worry. If you ever need a story, you can come right here and see what I wrote that day. Maybe you can steal some ideas from me.
You can tell I'm a little down on them right now. Sure, there are great, great guys who cover baseball, both locally and nationally. There are guys who really know their stuff. Some of them even still play semi-pro ball in their free time. But in my experience, those guys are few and far between. To be in the 21st century sports media, you need to be a certain type of person. You need to be aggressive. You need to be creative. (How is it possible to make someone read your column if you're writing about a last place team that's been in last place for a decade?) You need to be able to make relationships with front office people. You need to get scoops.
I have to see the media every day. There's radio, TV, internet, and print. In New York, we have loads of papers: the Bergen Record, the Star Ledger, the Daily Record, the Journal News, Newsday, the NY Post, the NY Daily News, the NY Sun, the NY Times, the Wall Street Journal (sometimes). We have our team website, the National Baseball League website, CBS Sportsline, Fox Online, ESPN.com, and a bunch more I can't think of. On TV, we have ESPN, our own network, NYS, plus national and local networks: FOX, TBS, WCBS, WNBC, WABC, the CW, My9, NY-1, News 12 NJ and more. There's national print too. Sports Illustrated, The Sporting News. So right there, I've added up 29 different organizations from this paragraph, and that doesn't include the AP, Baseball America, Yahoo! Sports and the 75-100 members of the Japanese media here to watch Kai Goto. This means, before and after every game, a whole lot of people get the opportunity to see me naked. Even worse, they also want to talk to me.
I've been good. I've kept my promise. I haven't spoken on the record to the media since January. I'm so great.
That doesn't mean they haven't quoted me, or quoted others quoting me. You've seen me quoted without my knowledge. Such is the life of a sports superstar. Or a guy like me.
My goal in writing this blog has been for the media to take my quotes from here. They do occasionally. I've read stories in various publications that are based upon the stuff I put here. That's good. It means my plan has worked at times.
But it's backfired more often than not.
I mentioned above the characteristics of a successful 21st century sports media person. I also mentioned how they need scoops. In this particular case, they get angry with me because I've had a couple of scoops they didn't have (it helps to be the only person on the scene willing to write about whatever is happening at the time, like all of my woes with the front office). They're even more upset because they're seeing that I'm now interviewing players and uploading the interviews, unedited, here in this space. I put up my first podcast two days ago. The crowd of media instantly went Hisssssssss. Very upset that I'm stepping a little bit more on their turf. One guy even said, and this sounds straight out of a black & white 1940s film, "Leave the reporting to us."
It's funny. Did this guy, a print person, say that to the Internet crowd 10 years ago when that revolution started? Did he say that about Chris Rock when Chris reported from the Republican convention in 1996? Does he say it about The Daily Show?
C'mon, man. Lighten up. When I quipped something back to him, you know what he said in return? Here it is: "You don't see me on the mound throwing fastballs." No, I don't. And he doesn't see me making a living from writing a blog. Yet, I'm treading on his water. I'm wearing the pants in his baseball family.
He's insecure. And he's not the only one. There are others who are literally afraid that I'm going to start a revolution; that every athlete is going to start doing this, taking organized journalism out of the equation.
That's not going to happen. Most athletes don't want to write their names on a bad contract, much less attach them to something like this. In fact most athletes can't write at all. Sure, we have name power. But power of the pen? Not for the vast majority of us. Other guys blog. It's fun sometimes. But it becomes a hassle too. Once you start, you either have to keep going or quit. I don't want to quit because:
a) I'd be embarrassed
b) I don't want to hear all the world say, "I told you so."
c) All of the above
There was an interesting exchange a few weeks ago between Deadspin's Will Leitch and author Buzz Bissinger. Go here to see it: http://deadspin.com/385770/bissinger-vs-leitch
Bissinger hates bloggers. He thinks they're bad and will bring down journalism.
I'm here today to tell you that is not my goal. I don't want to take away jobs. I don't want to hurt people's feelings. I don't want to outscoop the scoopers. I just want to be heard. Just like the guys who would like me to be silenced.
I won't be silenced, only because you can't make me. But don't worry. If you ever need a story, you can come right here and see what I wrote that day. Maybe you can steal some ideas from me.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
The Dr. Mike Marshall Podcast
To make it easy to find, I thought I'd give Dr. Marshall his own special entry. To listen to the interview I did with him, click below.
The Dr. Mike Marshall Interview
The Dr. Mike Marshall Interview
They're Calling Me Barbara
I don't like it. The "they", taken from the Latin root from the title above, "they're", is composed of my teammates and a handful of media folk who line my big league clubhouse with their fancy pants and designer shoes (the media guys don't wear either, just regular pants and sneakers). It seems the interview I posted yesterday with Dr. Mike Marshall added more to the negative feeling about me. Here were some comments and from whence they were derived:NEWSPAPER GUY (NPG)
NPG: Hey, Jimmy, I listened to your Mike Marshall interview.
Me: Doctor.
NPG: Well, yeah. Dr. Mike Marshall.
Me: It's what he is.
NPG: Anyway, I think -
Me: No, there's no "anyway" here. He's a doctor. He's got a PhD. What's so bad about that?
NPG: Nothin.
Me: Do you have a PhD?
NPG: No.
Me: Neither do I. That makes us both idiots.
NPG: May I quote you, Barbara?
Me: No. And don't call me Barbara.
OUTFIELDER (OF)OF: (rattailing my naked buttocks)
Me: Ouch. What is this, summer camp?
OF: Why don't you quit your pitching job and take a gig with ESPN?
Me: It doesn't pay as well.
OF: Really, Barbara?
Me: Who's Barbara?
OF: You. You're a little Barbara Walters.
Me: I'm probably taller than her.
OF: Still -
Me: And heavier.
OF: You and -
Me: But she probably has more hair. Even though she's pretty old now.
OF: Why don't you get her on your show?
Me: Why don't you?
OF: Nice comeback. Where'd you think that one up, summer camp?
He rat tailed me again on the tush just as I turned away.
MANAGER (RICK CHURCHES)Rick: Jimmy take a seat.
(I should state that we were in his office when this exchange occured.)
Me: (sitting without a wisecrack)
Rick: What's this about you wanting to retire?
Me: I don't want to retire.
Rick: You're going to be forced into it if you don't lay off the computer stuff and start spending some time on pitching.
Me: How much time a day can I throw a ball?
Rick: It's more than throwing. It's watching video. It's studying the other team.
Me: All right, let's say that takes up 3 hours of my day.
Rick: It's getting into top physical shape.
Me: Add another 2 hours
Rick: You don't work out 2 hours a day.
Me: Yes I do. You just can't see my raging abs. My clothes are big.
Rick: I'm saying your focus should be here, on this team and on this game.
Me: I'm saying that if you take the 5 hours a day of prep work for this gig we call baseball, and then -
Rick: There's the game itself too. Add in another 3 hours.
Me: 4 if it's Interleague. My point is, you take 6 hours out of 24 and that leaves... Umm...
Rick: 18 hours.
Me: Good! That's a lot of hours of nothingness. I can blog then and interview people and talk about what I'm going to do when I retire.
Rick: Do you want to retire?
Me: No.
Rick: Then put your focus on the game. You won't have to anytime soon if you pay more attention to baseball.
Me: We're starting to run in circles.
Rick: At least you'd be working out, Barbara.
POTENTIAL PODCAST INTERVIEW CANDIDATE (PPC)
PPC: No, don't interview me.
Me: Why?
PPC: I don't want to do interviews with the media. Why would I want to do one with a ballplayer.
Me: It could be fun.
PPC: Who do you think you are, Barbara Walters?
Me: No.
PPC: I'll pass.
I'm a trailblazer, a pioneer. I am an icon. I will be the man, many years from now, who historians will look back upon and say, "This was one semi-balding man who became a giant in his field, a greater giant than all of the others combined. He took risks. He followed his heart. We erect this statue of him in his honor. We're sorry he couldn't be here today. He had a prior engagement interviewing Barbara Walters for his groundbreaking podcast show."
Finally, let me add one more exchange between me and my jealous/envious closet admirers.
"RED" SCOTT (NYS GAME ANNOUNCER AND, ALSO, MY DAD)Red: What's this about you interviewing people?
Me: I'm interviewing people.
Red: I heard.
Me: Good.
Red: Why?
Me: Put down the microphone.
Red: Hmm?
Me: I'll talk to you off the record.
Red: We are off the record.
Me: So put down the microphone then.
Red: It's off. Don't you trust me.
Me: No.
Red: What kind of man can't trust his own father?
Me: The kind of man whose father is untrustworthy.
Red: You think you're better than me?
Me: No. Wait, let me rephrase. Yes, I do.
Red: You're not. You're just like me.
Me: I'm not like you at all. Why do you always try to lump in my extracurricular activities with the way you've treated your family since the day the earth cooled off from its origins as a flaming fireball.
Red: Speaking of flaming fireballs, they're calling you Barbara. Did you know that?
Me: Yes.
Red: It bugs you, doesn't it?
Me: Put the microphone down.
Red: Call you mother. She'd like to talk to you. Give me 5 minutes to prepare.
Me: You're not taping my call with Mom. That's illegal.
Red: Oh. Good day.
Me: Good day.
And he walked away, the man who never retired from baseball. The man who, at 72, I fear I will turn into one day. Yes, I must figure out my life before I'm his age, hanging around guys 50 years younger than me and watching them rattail each other. That's just sick.
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