There is a scene in Field of Dreams where Ray Kinsella and Terrance Mann pick up a hitchhiker on their drive back to Iowa. The hitchhiker was not Rutger Hauer – luckily – but a young man named Archibald “Moonlight” Graham.
Graham was a ballplayer in the 1920s who somehow landed in the 1980s. He tells the two that he hears there are teams all across the midwest that will find day jobs for players so they can play baseball at night.
Things have changed. Thanks to sleazy agents like the one profiled in this Deadspin story and billionaire owners, players now make money on the side because they can, not because they have to.
Some make money on the side by doing commercials or endorsements. And some make wine because, hey, why wouldn’t you drink wine from a baseball player?
Such is the case with New York Mets pitcher Johan Santana, who — as I discovered today — puts his name and image on wine, which is called “Santana’s Select.” It turns out the proceeds of the wine actually go to his youth foundation charity, but it’s not like Santana wouldn’t have enough money to do that on his own; he is in the middle of a $137.5 million contract.
Johan Santana shows his four-seam fastball grip on the cover of his wine.
I saw Santana’s wine on the shelves of the Madison Avenue Wine today. My first reaction was, “It’s from Longball Cellars?! He’s a pitcher! Why would he want to give up a longball?!”
More questions:
Why isn’t he holding a grape instead of a baseball? Wouldn’t that be more clever?
Is he holding a baseball so people don’t confuse him with Carlos Santana?
Wouldn’t you rather buy a wine made by Carlos Santana?
Wouldn’t you rather buy a wine made by Jon Lester?
Wait, Jon Lester is one of those guys who drank beer during games in the Red Sox clubhouse, right? Should he still want his name attached to alcohol at this point?
Is there anywhere where I can still buy “Manny Being Merlot”?
Will all wine from baseball players need steroids in a few years to avoid a decline as it ages?
Anyway, long story short, I didn’t buy it. Seems awfully gimmicky to me from players who earn millions of dollars playing a game that I would gladly play for $60,000 per year with health insurance and dental benefits.
But, really, let me know if Trevor Hoffman or Tony Gwynn come out with their own wines.
Remember basketball? It was that sport that was really popular last year. Surely you’ve heard of it. Well, there hasn’t been much going on with it lately because (A) The season is over, and, (B) There hasn’t been an offseason because of the NBA Lockout.
Yes, more labor disagreements. Can you believe it? LeBron James believes there will be an NBA season this year. However, keep in mind that we were all witnesses to when James said that Miami would win eight championships, then disappeared in just about every clutch NBA Finals moment.
Other, smarter, NBA players are less certain than James and are signing deals to play in Europe or putting on show-stopping performances at Rucker Park so they don’t get too rusty.
But what about the fans? What will we do? Watch stupid European basketball? Please. Watch Soccer? Yuck. Watch Hockey? Well, maybe, actually. But it’s still not the same. Beyond playing video games or reading books about basketball or watching old games, here are some other options to fill the void in your life this upcoming non-season.
Walk into a Casual Male Big and Tall — So you can make up for the lack of tall men in your life.
Watch high schoolers play the game – As Gene Hackman pointed out in Hoosiers, the rim is 10-feet high no matter where you go. So just watch the game and pretend it’s good.
Watch Hoosiers (again) – Yeah, you know how the game ends by now. But what else would you do? Watch Teen Wolf? Or Kazaam?
Pay the refs to shave points a High School game – This maneuver is called “The Tim Donaghy”
Play pick-up games on a kids hoop – It will make you feel tall, like a real basketball player. It also helps if you play with 11-year-olds.
Play a one-on-one game against Vin Baker – Yeah, he’s tall, but you’ll probably win at this point. He didn’t move well when he was still in the league.
Father a bunch of illegitimate children with a number of women – This is called “The Shawn Kemp.”
Buy your wife some expensive jewelry to make up for something you’ve done wrong – This is called “The Kobe.”
Watch Space Jam, take LSD – I have never done this, but I have a feeling that the game would feel real.
Take a vacation to Europe — Get near a European citizen and see if they flop so they can draw a phony charging foul.
Pretend that driving a car in traffic is just like driving into the lane in an NBA game — Just don’t try to draw a foul. Your insurance company won’t like that.
Sob into your newspaper’s sports section– Just kidding. Like you have a newspaper subscription.
Choke your boss – For those who still miss Latrell Sprewell, grab your boss by the neck out of frustration.
Visit some of your favorite players in prison – No, not all NBA players are bad citizens. But some are. Gilbert Arenas, for instance. Plus, they’ll enjoy the company. It’s not like they have anywhere else to go.
Welcome to this week’s Monday Madness, where you can wait all day for a House vote on a light bulb bill that gets delayed until Tuesday.
One of my stories ran on Sunday and an editorial ran with my name in it (referencing a story I did about ICE audits). I don’t have the link to it. Remember, you can always follow my real exploits on the Trail Blazers Blog.
Congratulations to my sister Carly, who, today, became one of our nation’s exports to China. One step closer to closing that trade deficit!
And congratulations to my brother Shawn, whose band, The Zig Zag Illusion, is playing another show at Red Eyed Fly on July 16. Be there.
Super 8 is Stand by Me meets E.T. meets Cloverfield, in case you were wondering. That’s not a bad thing either.
On the Metro, there is an ad for George Washington University Hospital that reads, “VIPs Trust GW Hospital for Heart Care. I can’t figure out why the for is italicized. Saying it out loud with emphasis only makes it sound dumber.
Before Derek Jeter got career hit number 3,000 on a home run on a 5-for-5 day at the plate, George Brett said Jeter’s 3,000th hit would be the most difficult one. I want George Brett to tell me things will be difficult now. How about something like, “Tristan, winning the Mega Millions jackpot is really difficult”? Or, “Tristan, it would be really difficult for you to suddenly throw 95 miles-per-hour and pitch for the Padres.” I’m waiting, George.
The guy who caught Jeter’s home run ball gave it back to Jeter (even though it was worth hundreds of thousands of dollars and the guy was 23 with a bunch of student loans). In return, he got some autographed memorabilia and season tickets for the remainder of the year. Couldn’t he have asked the Yankees to pay off his student loans or something too? Or at least had the Yankees try to contact George Brett to tell him winning the lottery would be difficult?
I am missing tonight’s home run derby due to lack of cable. If the Home Run Derby has taught me one thing over the years, it’s that drugs are good. If it’s taught me another thing, it’s that Chris Berman’s Home Run Derby act was starting to get a little stale…in 2002.
This week’s Monday Madness is brought to you by….
NBA 2K11 (no, they didn’t pay to sponsor this. Although if they want to, I’d be willing to negotiate a deal). Why? Because it keeps me occupied when I’m not working and it will give people something to do during the NBA lockout.
“It brings me back to when the federal government almost shut down this year and President Obama warned that the obnoxious Cherry Blossom Parade might be canceled. ‘Not the Cherry Blossoms!!!’ read one memorable Express cover. Indeed.” — Express sports columnist Matt Swenson on the NFL preseason possibly getting cut short as a result of the lockout.
“Everybody was amazed that he was so big…I don’t think too many people have heard of having a 16-pound baby.” — Janet Johnson, a 39-year-old East Texas woman who gave birth to a 16-pound baby and lived to tell about it.
“Battle of the Bulb” — Every friggin’ light bulb-legislation-related headline in the past few days. Except for mine! Ha!
Here at TristanHallman.com, we’re committed to finding solutions to the problems that perplex the rest of America. That is why I am going to “tackle” our national college football crisis.
“What crisis?” You may foolishly ask? Well, actually, I am glad you foolishly asked. Every week, it seems, the NCAA is investigating another college football program for wrongdoings of the financial variety. So, it’s a crisis, okay?! Let’s examine a few bits of evidence
Former USC star Reggie Bush had to return his Heisman Trophy and his “I won the Heisman Trophy and all I got was $100,000 in cash under the table” T-shirt.
North Carolina’s season was derailed after it was discovered several of the players received illegal academic benefits, cash, and were involved in Nigerian Prince schemes. They were suspended and forced to send their victims poorly-typed apology e-mails.
Ohio State star Terrelle Pryor will likely have to return his tattoos after receiving them in exchange for memorabilia.
Come on ref, you've got to call that!
And, last season’s two National Championship contenders, Auburn and Oregon, are under an NCAA investigation.
I made up some of those up, but still. Enough is enough.
If amateur college players want to get paid like the pros, they should be treated like pros. I’m talking about a lockout.
Why not? Lockouts are all the rage in professional sports right now. Everyone is doing it. The NFL and the NBA are locking its players out, and Major League Baseball is trying to literally lock out Frank McCourt.
College Football desperately needs a labor dispute. Colleges are making millions off of players, paying coaches millions of dollars, selling athletes images on TV and on jerseys (but without names on the back!) and the players are getting nothing in return in exchange for scholarships that pay inflated tuition prices that are often determined by the colleges themselves. Hell yeah, they should unionize!
And if some players have illegal agents, they probably already have an illegal union. Check and check.
The players need to take a stab at a collective bargaining agreement so they can be illegally compensated on a market-value basis. How do we know that whatever Cam Newton may have received is market value? Would other colleges have paid more if they knew what others were offering? If Colt McCoy wasn’t receiving any illegal benefits, shouldn’t he have been? He should at least have been able to look at the illegal benefits around the league and make an informed decision about his asking price, don’t you think?
In exchange, athletic directors can set an illegal benefits cap that each team can spend to make sure that illegal benefits don’t run rampant. If a team goes over that cap, the athletic directors can all agree to collectively frame the offending AD for some unspeakable crime. Or, they can all team up, dress in mascot costumes, and stab the offender repeatedly. Like an honor code. A Roman honor code. (“Et tu, Brutus Buckeye?”)
Some of these players can only play college football for so long before they have to take a pay cut by starting a career in insurance sales or as a high school coach or an NFL career. Why should they not want to make as much money as illegally possible?
There should be free agency as well. Currently, colleges hold almost all the cards once a recruit is paid enough to agree to go somewhere. College players could sign scholarships for any number of years they are offered. In turn, the ADs can trade players to other colleges. It’s not like most of them are in school to go to school anyway.
I know what you’re thinking — this sounds too wild, too out there, too dirty. College football is pure, you’ll cry. Nonsense. Sure, my plan may be illegal, but at least it’s honest. That’s more than you can say about college football now.
Last week, Jim Riggleman walked out on the Washington Nationals. He said he would no longer operate as the team’s manager on one-year contracts, and that the team’s management was disrespecting him. Without an extension, he resigned.
Jim Riggleman's ultimatum left him unemployed and with egg all over his face. Now, I want his old job.
Today, the Nationals announced that Davey Johnson, a 68-year-old former manager of the world champion 1986 New York Mets, would manage the team for the rest of the season. I think they made a mistake. They should have hired me. But I suppose they still can after the season.
Here are 12 reasons why they should consider me to be Riggleman’s replacement:
1. I am already in the Washington area
Location isn’t just important in real estate. If the Nationals hire me, they wouldn’t have to worry about relocating someone to take the job. No U-Haul, no short-term housing needed, no house-hunting, no uprooting families. I am here, I already own a Nationals hat (which, despite appearances, is NOT a Walgreen’s hat), and I am just a short Metro trip away from Navy Yard.
2. I have managerial experience
I managed a baseball team one year. Granted, it was a little league baseball team. And we didn’t win a lot of games. But, come on, it was fall league. It was supposed to be a learning experience for the kids. Plus, my number one draft pick quit the day after the draft. Anyway, the point is that I have experience. How different could managing 10 boys between the ages of 10 and 12 and managing 25 gents between the ages of 19 and 40ish possibly be? Or how could it be that different from my experience managing fantasy baseball teams or baseball teams on video games? None of those players or virtual players would listen to what a manager has to say anyway. I’ll just fill out the lineup card, signal for steals and bunts here and there, and shout words of encouragement (yes, even for my fantasy team). Been there, done that.
I have also co-managed a college newspaper. So, yeah, beat that, other managerial job candidates.
3. I’d bring youthful energy to the team
Despite my wealth of experience, I am just 22.I could bring a youthful exuberance to a young team that could use the spark.
4. My salary demands are comparatively low
These are tough economic times, even for billionaire baseball owners. This is especially true for Nationals owner Ted Lerner, who can only afford to pay outfielder Jayson Werth $126 million during the next seven years.
The Nationals paid Riggleman $600,000 per year, which is not much for a manager. Hey Nationals, if you act now, I would be willing to accept one-third of that salary ($200,000, plus Per Diem money and health insurance, of course). What a bargain! Take advantage of this limited-time offer while you can!
5. I don’t mind operating on one-year contracts
I have never had a full-time job that lasted longer than a few months (that is by design — they were internships), so I don’t mind operating on one-year contracts for a few years. I am serious. This really isn’t an issue for me.
6. I could boost ticket sales by at least three people
Let’s just say I know a few people who would be more willing to come to $2 Tuesdays if I was managing the team.
7. I could be a player-coach if needed
The concept of a player-coach hasn’t been tried for eons. However, if there were injuries or the game went deep into extra innings, I would be happy to step in and play a few innings in the field. I wouldn’t try to bat that often though. Maybe if Jamie Moyer is pitching…
8. I have already been to the White House
When you win a championship, you get to go visit the White House. I have been there twice, and I already know what it takes to get there.
9. I don’t mind being called “Skipper”
Skipper, if you don’t know, is a nickname for baseball managers — like they are the captain of the ship. Do you think most managers like the nickname? Probably not. I think they secretly despise it, especially if they hated Gilligan’s Island.
Me? I don’t mind at all. In fact, you can just call me Skipper Hallman from now on. But only if I get the job. If I don’t get the job and you call me Skipper, I will pummel you with a baseball bat.
10. I can kick dirt with the best of them
If I need to argue with an umpire, I will do so. And I can get as crazy as the team wants me to be. I probably couldn’t top this though:
I bet he was tired of being called Skipper.
11. I wouldn’t wager on the games
This was a problem for Pete Rose when he was the Cincinnati Reds manager. I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t even bet on the presidents race during every home game (although I could…Theodore Roosevelt has never won once, which narrows my odds to one-in-three).
12. I have a college degree
Most baseball players don’t. That should command respect from players. I mean, a college degree has to mean something, right? Right?! RIGHT?!?!
Three days after the rapture that wasn’t, the Associated Press reports that Chief Apocalypse Predictor Harold Camping has discovered that the real apocalypse will occur in October.
Oct. 21 is the exact date, according to Camping. So what of that May 21 date? Why, it was simply a “spiritual” Judgment Day, meaning that it was the day we all came under Christ’s judgment, and not, as we all thought, the day where the righteous slip out of their clothes and the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God.
In other words, God used May 21 to select who he is going to pick for rapture. Sort of like a draft. It’s just that the signing day for his draft selections won’t happen until October. And there may or may not be undrafted free agents (who really knows the rules of a rapture anyway? It’s not like there is a true Collective Bargaining Agreement with God). That’s all.
Sure, he has been wrong twice now if you count that time that he was wrong in 1994. But I’m skeptical of Camping for another reason:
Mel Kiper, NFL draft guru and possible proof positive that there isn't going to be a rapture.
Yes, God is an omnipotent, all-knowing being. But, if you were God or Jesus H. Christ, you’re probably pretty busy, what with all the being supreme ruler of the earth and the heavens and all. So, if you’re having a draft of all of the souls on earth, wouldn’t you first rapture Mel Kiper in advance? The man has almost 30 years of draft and scouting experience. His big board is the only thing on earth comparable to St. Peter’s Big Board. His vision-impaired eye for talent is unmatched.
And check out that hair. Only someone with a tremendous amount of skill and confidence can pull off that Gordon Gecko-style in 2011 and still get regular air time.
Then again, maybe God already tried to rapture Kiper but couldn’t get him out of his contract. After all, Kiper does work for a channel owned by Disney and their team of legal Imagineers.
If that is the case, I implore ESPN to reconsider and let Kiper go to heaven. ESPN can make do in our final five months on earth with the more telegenic Todd McShay. But if God tries to go and have a draft without Kiper, there may be hell to pay.
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