Do you remember me? Trunz supermarket, summer of ’84? I was stocking shelves; you needed help locating white bread; I totally hooked you up! Right! Remember now? Yeah, that was me! I’m good, I’m good. Thanks for asking. Things are going really well. And you?
Oh. Sorry to hear that.
So your sentencing hearing is next month? Fraudulently leasing cars to sell at a profit, was it? Possession of coke, X and synthetic growth hormones? Plus you’re broke and in rehab. Well, that’s not a crime, I guess. But the mansion you bought from Wayne Gretzky and proceeded to strip down into nothing better than your average double-wide, even after it went into foreclosure to pay your debts. That’s definitely a crime. You’ve been divorced and disgraced, exposed as a stock-analyst fraud. You cheated your business partners at the car wash and defaulted on your sports-finance magazine, maxing out not only your credit cards but those of some of your employees, too. And you’ve been sued by just about everybody who has had a conversation with you over the past decade.
Oh. Sorry to hear that.
So your sentencing hearing is next month? Fraudulently leasing cars to sell at a profit, was it? Possession of coke, X and synthetic growth hormones? Plus you’re broke and in rehab. Well, that’s not a crime, I guess. But the mansion you bought from Wayne Gretzky and proceeded to strip down into nothing better than your average double-wide, even after it went into foreclosure to pay your debts. That’s definitely a crime. You’ve been divorced and disgraced, exposed as a stock-analyst fraud. You cheated your business partners at the car wash and defaulted on your sports-finance magazine, maxing out not only your credit cards but those of some of your employees, too. And you’ve been sued by just about everybody who has had a conversation with you over the past decade.
At one point, we criticized your chewing-tobacco habit. Now, your chewing-tobacco habit is about your most noble trait. Go chew as much Red Man as you can stuff in your mouth. Just stop bilking your friends and family.
That said … When you hit that homer off Dave Smith to win Game 3 of NLCS, that might have been the greatest moment of my life. You’re fucking awesome, Dude! But you create a lot of conflicting emotions, to say the least.
Every ballplayer should play ball the way you played ball. But no human being should every live life the way you’ve lived life. You are to the degenerate athlete what the KFC Double Down is to the Big Mac — you make it look respectable by comparison. You make Art Schlichter look like Ward Cleaver; Pete Rose look like Will Rogers; and L.T. look like Donny Osmond. And O.J.? Well, O.K., O.J. is worse than you. But it’s a pretty sad state of affairs when “Well, at least he didn’t kill somebody” becomes the measuring stick of a man’s character.
How you don’t have a reality show by now is beyond me. My guess is that you’ve been approached but haven’t been able to make a deal because of your delusional demands. When you get out of jail in a few years — and, Dude, you are going to jail — I full expect to see you boxing The Situation, or at least Snooki, on Spike TV.
But, still, when you led off Game 3 of the Series at Fenway! Oh, my God, that was so awesome. Man do I miss that scruffy little Dude running around the bases like Daffy Duck on speed. I miss that little guy who said, “If my uniform isn’t dirty, I’m not playing right.”
It’s a tough thing when a red-blooded American kid learns that his favorite ballplayer is human, a tough lesson when you find out that he’s a con artist and an abuser and basically nothing more than a criminal with no conscience or moral barometer. But it’s a valuable lesson. Now go out and show us something about redemption. Go to your sentencing, go do your time. Get clean.
You played the game the right way. Now learn how to live life the right way.
That said … When you hit that homer off Dave Smith to win Game 3 of NLCS, that might have been the greatest moment of my life. You’re fucking awesome, Dude! But you create a lot of conflicting emotions, to say the least.
Every ballplayer should play ball the way you played ball. But no human being should every live life the way you’ve lived life. You are to the degenerate athlete what the KFC Double Down is to the Big Mac — you make it look respectable by comparison. You make Art Schlichter look like Ward Cleaver; Pete Rose look like Will Rogers; and L.T. look like Donny Osmond. And O.J.? Well, O.K., O.J. is worse than you. But it’s a pretty sad state of affairs when “Well, at least he didn’t kill somebody” becomes the measuring stick of a man’s character.
How you don’t have a reality show by now is beyond me. My guess is that you’ve been approached but haven’t been able to make a deal because of your delusional demands. When you get out of jail in a few years — and, Dude, you are going to jail — I full expect to see you boxing The Situation, or at least Snooki, on Spike TV.
But, still, when you led off Game 3 of the Series at Fenway! Oh, my God, that was so awesome. Man do I miss that scruffy little Dude running around the bases like Daffy Duck on speed. I miss that little guy who said, “If my uniform isn’t dirty, I’m not playing right.”
It’s a tough thing when a red-blooded American kid learns that his favorite ballplayer is human, a tough lesson when you find out that he’s a con artist and an abuser and basically nothing more than a criminal with no conscience or moral barometer. But it’s a valuable lesson. Now go out and show us something about redemption. Go to your sentencing, go do your time. Get clean.
You played the game the right way. Now learn how to live life the right way.
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