The-pitcher-who-must-not-be-named has been named…
so now what?


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.

If you have any comments or questions, please e-mail me at