Go Down Swinging

For my birthday last November, my wife gave me a subscription to Sports Illustrated. I had not received this magazine since I was a kid, and looked forward to February when I would finally get to gawk at a swimsuit issue before my mom could incinerate it. Turns out, wives detest scantily clad Eastern Bloc beauties even more than mothers; so needless to say, I never saw the issue Tricia referred to as “porn”.

Even though I did not get to see women with names like Petra frolicking around the rain forest wearing mesh bikinis, I do enjoy the magazine. This week Rick Reilly’s column in particular grabbed my attention, and has kept my mind spinning over the moral dilemma it presents.

Let me set it up for you. Imagine a nine-and-10-year-old PONY league championship game in Bountiful, Utah. If you do not know what Bountiful, Utah looks like, just imagine the game being held in a city you are familiar with, only with Mormons. The Yankees lead the Red Sox by one run in the bottom of the last inning, with two outs, and a runner on third base. The Red Sox’s best hitter steps to the plate with a chance to tie the game, and on deck stands a kid named Romney, a pint-sized cancer survivor who has to take human growth hormone, just like Barry Bonds. Unlike Bonds, Romney also has a shunt in his brain.

Now imagine you are the Yankees manager. Do you pitch to the slugger, or intentionally walk him to face the cancer-kid, virtually ensuring your team the championship?

Well, the real Yankees coach, Bob Farley, decide to walk the star. The move sent Romney’s sister into tears, drew boos from the angry Red Sox parents, and won his team the championship when Romney inevitably struck out. Later assistant coach Shaun Farr chalked up the move to good strategy and explained, “This isn’t the Special Olympics. He’s not retarded.”

Backlash from the community was immediate. The local sports editor wrote that he hoped Farley and Farr, “Enjoy the trophy on their mantel, right next to their dunce caps.” A Utah State House candidate called the move, “Shameful”. My friend Jeremy said, “Dude, this year the bikinis were made of Saran Wrap!”

Of course, some in the community agree with the Yankees move, and say kids need to learn that life is not always fair. As if a kid with a tube in his head has not grasped that concept yet.

I am not entirely sure how to feel about all of this, but I do have some questions. First, why didn’t the Yankee coaches make the walk of the slugger look unintentional? Throw him four bad pitches, if he swings great, if not, great. And second, assuming the slugger was batting cleanup, why was Romney batting fifth? Are there four hitters on the team worse than him? If so, how did this team get to the championship game to begin with?

It is doubtful that I ever find the answers to those questions, because quite frankly, I don’t care enough to look. But I do think I can offer some perspective on things that young Romney will one day appreciate.

Nearing thirty, I struggle daily with the fact that I am not yet famous. In fact, my MySpace alter ego is more popular than I am. So Looking back at the thousands of times I struck out in PONY League baseball, I would gladly let a Sports Illustrated columnists chronicle my failure, even if I did not have a great excuse, like cancer. At this point, I just want to be noticed. As Whitney Houston once said, “The only difference between fame and infamy is…hey look some crack!”

So with fame in mind, everything I now do is geared towards getting my name out there. If fact, my living will states that if I enter a vegetative state, I shall be kept on a ventilator until both Nancy Grace and Greta Van Susteren devote two weeks on their shows talking about nothing but Chad, then you can pull the plug. I know this may sound a little morbid, but that is only because it is.

Now back to the point. If you happen to have an old copy of the swimsuit issue, would you mind sending it to my work address?

You can read Rick Reilly’s column here, and you can read about the history of pickles here.