Dear Allan Benavides [General Manager; Eugene Emeralds]:
Do you miss me yet? I bet you do under that gruff exterior. I will keep this short because I know you find my missives exhausting. First I must ask though, was that jealousy or relief in your eyes when you saw the Portland Pickles were courting me in one of your luxury boxes at PK Park? At my advanced age, it is hard to distinguish the two.
So on my way home from Eugene, I asked a higher deity for a sign of which turn my professional career should take. Upon my arrival at my current primary profession, over the course of the day I discovered:
- a hobo camp in the wash next to our PE fields.
- one of my students had brandished a life on another student, saying he would skin him like a cat.
- Another student had put two other students in ambulances with her barehands.
- No donuts in the staff room (again).
I think this god was sending me a pretty clear sign. Plus, I heard the Emeralds are hiring now.
Too soon? Perhaps. Nothing last forever though, and we are too old to dance around the burning bush or other mixed metaphors. I need a position to supplement my pension (and a medical plan), and you need promotions director. In the last year, against your will, I raised 1900 in twenty-four hours for your charity, and brought Dillon T. Pickle to your park for a post season game. Plus I brought immeasurable joy to Eugene with my visits. Imagine what I could do with your blessing.
Sign IMG Hotels as the official hotel of the Eugene Emeralds for starters. They adore me at Even Hotel Eugene, one of four IMG properties in the Eugene area. I even took the liberty to discuss a shuttle service to PK Park with the Ems’ Arcrimotos with the front desk receptionist, but we became sidetracked when she started waxing poetically about Civic Stadium, and I had to get some of those sweet, sweet barbecue wings from The Cooler before the game.
The next thing I would do is placate the rest of the Eugene Hotel Mafia by illustrating that the new stadium would also be used as a centerpiece for travel ball showcases. Youth sports are projected to be an 86 billion dollar industry by the year 2030, and together we can a piece of that pie. You see, Allan, I love to eat pie, and I am pretty sure you do too, so let’s make Eugene a youth baseball/softball Mecca. The Fredericksburg Nationals hosted the Babe Ruth Nationals this year at their new park, and it filled over 1200 hotel rooms over the course of the tournament. This is a trend across our fair nation. If you like, I could prepare a dazzling presentation with bitching slides with graphics that POP about how many hotel room the new stadium could fit with youth tournaments. I will let you in on a Bads85 secret. Most of my visions are a result of diligent research, not madness. Oh, madness certainly accounts for some, but not as much as many would think.
I know you might be thinking, “Bullshit Bads85! You are a Recovering Catholic who wonders what would have happened had you grown up a decadent Jew. You didn’t ask any higher deity for guidance.” You might have even stopped reading, which is why I am forwarding this to others on your staff. You should discuss bringing me aboard when you drive to Canada with your merry crew this week for the Emeralds’ second consecutive championship. At the very least, we should pal around at the Arizona Fall League, or Winter Meetings. Imagine the Pelicans’ surprise if I were there wearing an Ems’ polo!
Gotta run. Have to talk to the Portland Pickles about a promo in which Dillon T. Pickle slaps around obnoxious Little League parents. Do not worry though. You will always be my primary muse.
Your friend in baseball,
Bads85
PS: Oops. I did not keep this missive short because I am an outlaw — the outlaw you need to make your old bones young again! Ask yourself, what do you really have to lose?
Dead Religions 