Bad Bidniz

I came across this article about a baseball player who was traded for 10 bats - yes, I wrote that correctly . Many of you probably already heard of him. Being an Indians fan I don't know how many times I've heard, "trade him for a bag of balls," "a bag of peanuts," "get his ass out of here," anon. Well, poor John C. Odom was traded for 10 bats. Apparently, the trade for a slugger (not a Louisville Slugger, but a real breathing person) fell through, and his former team - the mighty Calgary Vipers of the independent Golden Baseball Leauge - turned down an offer of $1000 because they didn't want to appear to be in financially dire straits. So they traded him for bats. Yes, bats. At first he took the trade okay, did the interviews, laughed at the Batman jokes, etc. Fast forward six months later and he's dead of - among other things - a heroin overdose. A former manager, who genuinely seems to feel for the kid, wonders if the trade had anything to do with it, but says we can never be too sure. Really? I think we can.

And here's the problem with sports. It's not real anymore. I don't even know why we bother. With all the free agency, steroids, and salary figures that go beyond my comprehension, why not just watch video games. Is it because the game would no longer be about chance? I'm not so sure it is now.

The long and short of it is we - the fans - have lost touch with the reality of anything when we view it through a sports lens. We like to yell, scream, and ridicule. It's a great way to let out our own frustrations. It's also a great way to lose our self respect. In the meantime, the absurdly rich get exponentially richer (yes, Manny Ramirez just signed his two-year $45-million contract after rejecting a two-year $45-million contract), and we root for teams who somehow represent us and our fair cities. I'm trying not to throw up in my mouth as I write that. And somewhere, some kid dreams of being a professional ball player, and he is failing. And maybe he can handle it. And maybe he can't. And maybe he'll survive and move on to the next phase of his life, or maybe he'll become an alocholic, drug addict, abuser, or God knows what else.

The PS to this whole story. The team claims they did not trade him as a publicity stunt. If you believe that, you probably believe the Indians and Cubs will meet in the World Series this fall. The whole business of sports is a publicity stunt, and if you ask me, it stinks.

VOTE - FOR MY SAKE

Throughout my life I’ve made hundreds of rash decisions that have led me to where I am now. There’s no point to digging up the details of my past, but the point is I think I need outside advice. In the upper right hand corner of this page you will find a poll asking what I should do about my wife. Long story short is she’s been in contact with an Alien. She’s even gone so far as to say it visits us in our bed. At first I thought she was just…well…let’s just say I didn’t believe her. But she’s persistent and even more communicative with the Alien than ever before. So if you were I, what would you do? While this may seem like a joke – I wish it was – it isn’t. So please take the time and vote responsibly. My life literally depends on it. I’ll see how this works out for me, and if it goes well, maybe I’ll put more of my life choices to vote. Thanks for taking the time. Remember, making decisions for others is no joke. And, as always, please feel free to leave a comment - advice is welcome.

Mark Me

I’ve been silent for quite some time now and I’m fairly certain no one has noticed – judging by the fact that I have no new comments. The dust has settled on the play about me. I did see it one final time, and I realized that to most people, most specifically the playwright and director, my life is some kind of a joke. The first time I saw the play, I too laughed, but now as I consider things, I just wonder. What good is being done by the mocking of my life? I will take action. And, in fact, I may have begun to already do so. People will see. People will one day mark me just as Hamlet did the ghost of his father.