12 reasons why I should be the new Nationals manager

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?!?!

Front Page Famous

Today, a story I co-wrote landed on page 1A of the Dallas Morning News. It was the only Non-Mavericks story.

Click to enlarge

But I did eventually write about the Mavericks for DMN here. Yes, my head somehow got flattened in my mini-mugshot. Glad you noticed.

And my sister, who generally writes fiction, wrote some truths for Thought Catalog. Read it here. I promise it will be worth your while.

Monday Madness!

Here is the first edition of Monday Madness, a collection of random thoughts and links and such.

My first byline in The Dallas Morning News (subscription required): Obama administration may approve Texas voter ID law to avoid court review, experts say — http://bit.ly/iiG25G (don’t worry, I’m not Rick Rolling you. Or am I? Click to find out!)

Another byline is coming soon…

If you are in Austin, my brother Shawn and his band, The Zig Zag Illusion, are playing at The Beauty Bar on E. 7th Street on Tuesday night. Check them out!

Lessons of the Week:

  • Sometimes Politico’s BREAKING NEWS e-mail alerts aren’t really BREAKING NEWS.
  • No matter what your political views, Marine One is just plain cool.
  • Thanks to White House press pool reports, I know every mundane detail of every presidential event.
  • Just because your apartment is furnished doesn’t mean it is furnished well.
  • To follow up on that last point, sometimes dressers can’t support the weight of a few pairs of pants.
  • Tyson Chandler probably just fouled someone somewhere.
  • Sometimes, the King is the Fool.
  • My fantasy baseball players have great days if I go to see them in person (Ben Zobrist, Nick Markakis, Mark Reynolds on Saturday night). Maybe it’s that extra motivation they need when the millions of dollars and careers playing baseball all day just aren’t doing it for them like they used to.
  • The Metro is kind of a rip-off, but you do get to see women with legit mustaches sometimes.

This blog post is brought to you by…

Paula Hallman! Literally, without her, this blog post would have never been possible. Check out this video of her art portfolio made by my sister and featuring music by my brother:

They f***ing said it…

“Please warn people about ghouls in your next article. That’s your job as a journalist.” — Carly Hallman, who may or may not have something to do with this Facebook page.

“We like to think that people enjoy Peeps…The best part is, you can take them home, put toothpicks in them and stick them in the microwave. That makes them blow up, and they look like they are sword fighting.” – Collin Long, a spokesman for Rep. Charlie Dent, R-Penn., in The New York Times.

“He had barbecue ribs. I’ve had barbecue ribs 500 times in my life. He did not get a drip of sauce anywhere on his face, suit, tie. The guy is carved out of stone. I don’t even know how he ate the ribs. He was like a god. He didn’t even need a napkin.” — Media columnist Norman Chad on sports writer/Dracula Frank Deford in Grantland.

“Americans, too many of them, seem to only care about sex and taxes.” — Alec Baldwin on Twitter.

Protesters can’t dance if they want to

Lost in all of the hullabaloo about Anthony’s Weiner today was another, far more interesting story about dancers protesting their inability to dance at the Jefferson Memorial by dancing at the Jefferson Memorial.

I came across this story in my morning copy of Express, which is a free daily tabloid-style newspaper published by the Washington Post. The flashmob of dancers, including one dressed in a comical Thomas Jefferson costume, were arrested, and, here’s the kicker, forced the memorial to temporarily shut down to tourists.

That’s right: A small group of people who had to cut loose, footloose, accomplished what a $14 trillion deficit could not do — shut down a national memorial.

AND, this was the second time in less than a week that the police, possibly fearing a dance dance revolution in the nation’s capital, arrested dancers at the Memorial.

Prior to this story, I had no idea that dancing could be a criminal act. I mean, it makes sense — police pursued “Smooth Criminal” Michael Jackson multiple times before his death. Then again, he may have also molested a few children here and there. Allegedly. So yeah, there’s that too. But did you see the man/woman dance? It has to be illegal.

What is even stranger is that dancing is perfectly fine on the east side of the city at a Nationals game. As is dressing up as Thomas Jefferson and running around like an idiot so that people can win free or discounted bottles of Ozarka water. In fact, both are encouraged.

 

Dressing up like Thomas Jefferson at a baseball game? Great! At the Jefferson Memorial? You might be going to jail.

So who is to blame? The media, of course. For too long, we have let Hollywood and the media elites do the hustle on us all. From the wholesome-but-dangerous world of Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire to the cautious “Safety Dance” to the glamorization of Channing Tatum’s world of “Step Up” to Lady Gaga’s reckless “Just Dance,” society has encouraged this illegal behavior to go on for far too long. Maybe this will be the Tipping Point (Copyright-Malcolm Gladwell) that finally ends this trend of tangos, two-steps, and twists once and for all.

Blinded with science at the National Zoo

So how did I spend my last day before my next step into adulthood? Going to the zoo, of course.

But not just any zoo — The National Zoo.

What treasures do they have at the National Zoo that us commoners from Middle America don’t get? Why, they have wise-ass sign-makers for owl exhibits:

Red circles added by me

“Probably monogamous”? Aren’t we all — at least for a little while? When will they know for sure?

And “Who cooks for you?” or “Who cooks for you all?” (for my fellow Texans, “you all” is how the rest of the country says “y’all” Silly, I know, but just bear with me). More than one person decided that the barred owls sound like they are inquisitive, and perhaps concerned, about your lack of a nutritional diet. Either that, or the zoo’s head honcho made an executive decision about what this owl is “saying” despite the objections of his colleagues.

In any event, this is the kind of scientific guesswork and wise-assery that makes the zoo an educational event for the whole family.

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