I
started this column several months ago and could never really
figure out what I wanted to say with it. As many of you know,
I have gone to great lengths not to mention the unmentionable
name here on the web site. So once he was named on that December
day more than a year ago, the possibilities of a column seemed
mind-boggling… and it turned out that was just the start.
Since
that time, he played a tape of a telephone conversation for the
media that he said vindicated him. Of course… all the tape did
was prove he was a low-level, deceit-filled piece of scum. But
why quibble over details? (He says tomato… I say stupid… he says
potato… I say dirt bag… we’re arriving at the same place.)
Of
course you also certainly recall that we learned that he likes
to attend parties, have his picture taken at parties, and enjoys
having such a good time that he doesn’t recall being at those
parties.
And
then we found out his wife took steroids… obtained from the same
trainer that said he injected Mr. Must-Not.
(By
this point the jokes seemed as though they would never dry up.)
Then
the days arrived with the release of information that, he of no-one-questions-my-character
posturing, was apparently thrilled to pitch in New York because
of the overwhelming population of 15-year olds that can sing in
the upper class bars he frequented. Ok… I’m making a joke… but
as you know, Mindy McCready confirmed this as possible.
The
calls became louder for the-pitcher-who-must-not-be-named to call
it quits. To give up. To drop his legal maneuvering, be quiet,
check his financial records and live the good life off what should
be millions upon millions of invested dollars.
And
to that I wanted to say… why would he stop now?
Do
any of you recall the movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?
(It’s a classic. Find it. Watch it. Great stuff. Anyway…) It’s
a film where the main character, Ferris, leads two of his friends
through a day filled with breaking rules and pushing limits. Right
around the middle of the movie, Ferris is in a restaurant with
his companions-in-adventure, and he seems to have been bagged
by the maitre ‘d. As he tries to extract himself from a difficult
situation, with his friends encouraging him to give up and bail
out, Ferris delivers a very interesting (and highly appropriate
for our conversation) two-part observation.
The
first comment is that you can never go too far. Considering the
ever-increasing laundry list of stupidity the-pitcher-who-must-not-be-named
has been working on, it’s clear he takes this advice to heart.
(So
this first part is pretty good, right? You can never go too far,
and it certainly seems to apply here. Hold on… part two is even
better.)
Comment
number two? If Ferris is going to be busted, he let’s us know
that it won’t be by a guy like this maitre d’.
Mr.
Must-Not, as we have seen over the years… most vividly in the
past few months… is also Mr. Egotistical. He’s better than all
of us. He’s knows it. He believes it. It doesn’t matter that in
reality he’s a lying, two-faced, gutless piece of crap. (That’s
my opinion. I have no physical evidence that he is a piece of
crap. He simply looks like one… smells like one… and, you know…
blah-blah-blah, at some point it’s a duck.) The point is, he’s
living in his reality. Not ours. And in that world, the-pitcher-who-must-not-be-named
is above the rules because they don’t apply to him, and all of
us little folks that are worthless in his eyes should just accept
his lies as the truth and be quiet.
Or…
in other words, and more directly to the point… if he’s going
to be busted, it certainly isn’t going to be by someone like this.
The
funny thing is that we see this same except scenario play out
in movies over and over and over again. The high and mighty and
powerful ass that is so bloated on their own importance misses
a glaring weakness, convinced that no one would dare challenge
him. Then he turns into a kicking, screaming and crying idiot
that can’t believe he’s beaten as the police put the cuffs on
him. (And then the lead character basks in his good fortune and
spends the riches he’s won.)
So
as we move into an age where no players are clean (thanks A-Fraud!)…
and records are open for debate even though they’re not (thanks
Bud!)… what’s next?
I
don’t pretend to know. We have witnesses lining up for Barry.
And the Brian McNamee book deal is becoming more expensive for
some future publishing house to purchase with every dismissal
of Mr. Must-Not’s legal challenges.
One
thing is for certain though… the-pitcher-who-must-not-be-named
and his friends still thinks they are better than all of us. And
that means the show will go on, at least for a little while longer.