Principles Are Made To Be Broken

There's a lesson for us all when someone makes a spontaneous decision that affects more than just him/herself: There will be untied loose ends. I know, I sound like a serial killer covering his (or her, let's be fair) tracks. In my case, when I made a quick decision to shun the media - all media - this season in favor of this forum you are reading right now, I forgot about certain commitments that had previously been made.

For example...

Yesterday, Vanessa reminded me to be dressed well. I asked her why. Diane Sawyer was coming over, with a crew, to talk about athletes and charity. The Jimmy Scott Foundation was one of the lead hooks to their report. (They had already interviewed on camera Kobe Bryant, Dale Earnhardt, Jr., and Randy Moss.) When I stood in place and stammered a little, it hit my wife - I had pledged to only speak to the media through this blog.

She was rightfully concerned. The exposure for our charity was going to be huge. That's a key reason why we'd said yes in the first place. Last time we'd done something like this, a few years ago for Sports Illustrated, we raised an incremental $150,000 for M.S. research as a result. ABC gets more eyeballs than SI. That $150K could be a lot more by this time next week.

She told me I had to give ABC an exemption, like how the striking writers gave one to David Letterman's production company. I felt a little weird about that. What union makes side deals with management to let a small pocket of its membership go back to work? That's like when we went on strike in 1997, our union cutting a deal just with Detroit to let their bullpen come off the picket lines (not like any of us actually held placards and yelled silly nursery rhymes about our poor working conditions in the first place) and throw off of flat ground. It wouldn't have helped the greater cause, which is the rest of the union. Very strange.

I told this to Vanessa and she then said this: It was just me. I wasn't answering to anyone when I made this decision. I can go back on it for one hour, justify the cause as being in the name of helping people with a dreadful disease, then go back on my little strike against writers after the cameras have been packed up and driven away. "Put the issue above yourself, Jimmy," she said.

The guilt was amazing; amazing not in a good way. Thick guilt. Rabid guilt. I frothed at the mouth, like a frosty mug after a Heineken had been poured into it too quickly. My principles in baseball have shifted over the years, as they probably do for people as they get older. At first, in the minor leagues, my main principal was to do what it takes to make it to the big leagues. Work out like a maniac. Listen to every coach. Never show up late. Keep my mouth shut. I batted .750 with those principles but reached my goal anyway.

Then I subscribed to a new set of principles. Work out like a maniac. Listen to my managers and veteran teammates. Arrive early and stay late. Be humble with the media. Again, .750 was the magic number. Still worked. We won lots of games. A championship. Then I got traded to New York. Scared the hell out of me. Chicago is a big city, but it's not New York. I'd played games here and seen Cats, but that was it. I was married with two kids by now. Again, a principle shift took place.

With just about six years in the big leagues and some solid success, I put the following principles in place: Don't overwork and burn yourself out so you can get a great contract. Listen to the pitching coach and nod your head to everyone else (no offense, but I've yet to meet a NY manager who knows anything about pitching). Don't forget about the wife and kids. Embrace the media and be their most ardent supporter. Looks like .750 was turning out to be my lucky number (sorry Vanessa and daughters). We won two championships (now I had three). I won lots of individual awards. My kids were never arrested and secretly bailed out to avoid family embarrassment. And I'm on my fifth NY manager this year who... I'll stop there. No need to criticize before spring training begins. Rick - I promise to be on my best behavior.

Bottom line - my last set of principals have helped us raise over $38 million for The Jimmy Scott Foundation. "Embrace the media." Worked out well for me. Until they bit me on the ass and I shunned them. Do I unshun them for a greater good, our charity? Would the Amish unshun a man who looked at a Ferrari and said, "Cool wheels, dude"?

Diane Sawyer and her crew got here just after lunch. Their producer met with Vanessa and they chose a spot in the house to do the interview. I pretended to be in my home gym working out. Of course, I was just in the Entertainment Veranda (Guitar Hero III is the best!), ready to slap a damp washcloth on my face and call it sweat. I got my call and went upstairs. Forgot the washcloth and realized the plan was stupid as I couldn't appear on camera wearing a T-shirt that reads: Bastards Are People Too. Good thing I'd forgotten the plan in the first place and was already dressed for meeting a respectable journalist.

Here's how my first discussion with a major media outlet since my ban was put in place went:

Diane Sawyer: Hi, Jimmy. I've got to tell you I'm a huge fan. My husband is too. He's got season tickets. (Her husband, Mike Nichols, directed The Graduate, my all time second favorite film, and the recent Charlie Wilson's War and lots of others. I want to hang out with him forever.)
Me: (nodding, smiling)
Diane Sawyer: Are you speaking to me today?
Vanessa: Jimmy, this is off the record. The cameras aren't on.
Me: (quizzical look on my face)
Diane Sawyer: I'm just Diane right now, Jimmy. When the cameras are on and my makeup is done, then I'm Diane Sawyer, media person.
Vanessa: (looking at me like I'm an idiot)
Me: (turning red like a little kid holding his breath to get his way)
Vanessa: (punching me in the stomach, kind of hard)
Me: (exhaling kind of hard) Hi, it's nice to meet you.

I felt strange. Was I betraying myself? Vanessa, always, well, almost always on point with her views, looked at me. Had I not listened to her? This was for charity. The cameras were off. She was my wife. It felt more like I was betraying her.

Diane Sawyer already knew of my quandary and was prepared to talk about it. I suggested Vanessa take the lead in the interview, they use archival footage of me speaking at various charity functions, I nod and smile and laugh with whatever Vanessa said, Mike Nichols would spend time with me when he came back to New York, and at the end I would give a little speech, on camera, about just the charity. I wouldn't speak about my media ban, but they would mention my blog address. We shook hands. Diane Sawyer and I made a deal that I thought I could live with.

The special airs on ABC next week. I can live with my decision. Life doesn't always have to be about me. In my baseball world, that's what I'm used to. But maybe it's time I grow up just a little bit. Principles can be just like rules. And rules, sometimes, are meant to be broken.

Cordial Invitations

Vanessa and I received a "Save The Date!" card in the mail today from "Dan & Krissy." Apparently, Dan & Krissy are getting married on July 19, 2009. We're very happy for them and will certainly be sure to save that date, and every date from today until our lives end. As to whether or not Vanessa and I go to Dan & Krissy's wedding, there's only one problem.

We don't know who they are.

These things happen more often than we care to feel guilty about. Maybe in 2008 we'll (meaning Vanessa) keep track of how many events we've been invited to. We can have two categories: People we know and People we don't know. My bet is the People we know column will edge out the other, but just barely.

We've been invited to bar mitzvahs, bat mitzvahs, sweet 16s, baby showers, 20th, 30th, 40th, 50th, 60th, 70th, 80th, 90th and two 100th birthday parties. We've been invited to Christmas parties, Republican and Democratic parties, office parties, bachelor parties... Yes, Vanessa has a number of fans in the male population who would like nothing better than for her to attend their bachelor party. So far, she's said no (or not responded) every time. So far.

We get it. I had a colleague once who invited the Rolling Stones to play as his wedding band. Of course, there was a DJ at the actual reception, but the colleague had a good story telling people the Stones were "tied up" that day.

When strangers/fans/strange people invite Vanessa and me to their events, it's more on a lark. They don't really expect us to attend. Which is why it would be funny if I was the one who popped out of Dan's bachelor party cake sometime in May of 2009.

I'm not sure if the general population knows what it takes to get people as famous, noteworthy and incredibly beautiful such as Vanessa and me (well, maybe Vanessa) to attend their functions. Here are some ways to get commitments from the rich and famous:

1. Make sure proceeds from the event are going to The Jimmy Scott Foundation. That way, after we skim a little off the top, we can distribute to our earmark charities fighting Lyme Disease M.S.
2. Provide exit strategies for your "special guests" should crowds of fans and onlookers end up soaking their fingernails in our gazpacho.
3. Don't heat the gazpacho!
4. Security should be ample. Dogs, police on horseback, and many guns will make us feel safe.
5. Provide transportation for us. Sure we can afford it on our own, but we're better than you. This is something we expect. Along with...
6. The best seats at the event. Maybe the groom and bride should just scoot over a bit.
7. Goodie Bags. Candy and saran-wrapped picture books won't do it. We need the items in each goodie bag to carry an aggregate value of a minimum $12,000. We're going to redistribute everything to charity or a jerkoff cousin, but the rich and famous need to feel important. So please, give generously and wisely.
8. Clothing allowance. You don't think I'm going to pay to rent a tux for your event, do you?
9. Private bathrooms. If you think somebody like me is going to stand at the urinal next to some guy who's pissed (no pun intended) I ruined his fantasy team in 2007, then you're nuts. We need private facilities. Again, if the rich and famous don't get constant validation that they're better than you, we'll make a scene which you will inevitably regret.
10. Don't expect an RSVP. We may decide to show up at the last minute. Or we may decide to blow it off at the last minute. Or we may, all along, have thought your event unworthy of our presence. Either way, it's rude of you to expect us to respond to your request. If you want us there, give us the space we need to make a decision based upon our desires, not yours.

There you have it. In a year, I'll publish how many invitations we received from people like you. We can share a drink over it.

Or maybe not.