Dead Religions

Dear David Percarpio {Director of Merchandise; Staten Island Yankees]:

I recently purchased a Staten Island Pizza Rats t-shirt online because that is one killer alternative identity, and I was afraid that your organization might disappear with Robert Manfred’s proposed contraction. I was pleasantly amused when it arrived in a pizza box with a packet of parmesan cheese. I thought I would be the talk of the California League circuit with this shirt, but the events of today made me question this hypothesis. In short, people treated me like a monster for wearing Pizza Rats shirt. Is this type of thing normal? 

It all started when I girded my loins this morning to embark on my minor league ambassador duties because a true minor league ambassador never really rests, especially during the offseason. My first stop was LoanMart Field, where the Rancho Cucamonga Quakes play, to deliver a bag of very cold and hard dog poop to their season ticket holder entrance. As a former season ticket holder as of the end of the 2019 season, I wanted to show my appreciation of the customer service their organization has offered over the years. In retrospect, an employee probably will not find the bag until late March because attention to detail is something that is lacking at LoanMart Field, but I certainly had a spring to me step as I walked back to the car.

From there I went to a Starbucks because chain restaurants are about all you can find in Rancho Cucamonga. I wanted an Egg Nog Latte, but Skippy the Barista took one look at my Pizza Rats’ shirt and snarled he was out of Egg Nog. I am now sure how someone can run out of Egg Nog before Valentine’s Day, but Skippy seemed to be a bit overwhelmed with his job this morning, so I just ordered something cold with light ice because I had miles to go before I slept. Imagine my dismay when Skippy served me a drink so filled with ice that it bent my paper straw. When I told him, I ordered light ice, he barked that is light ice in these parts.

There was a time I would have cut a man for that type of insolence, but that was before I made the acquaintance of Hunter Horenstein [Director of Fan Engagement; Myrtle Beach Pelicans], who taught me that there was indeed live after love. I did insist politely that Skippy make the drink the way I ordered it, and he looked at me like I was a fan of an organization that had a perverse contract clause with the city of New York that actually discouraged attendance to avoid paying the city revenues if attendance numbers hit a certain mark. Skippy did remake the drink the way I wanted it though because I did not get to this station in life by letting people like Skippy slide.

From there I went to Total Wine and More to purchase some Knob Creek Smoked Maple Bourbon for sweet, sweet dreams when Wee Willie Winkie rings in the New Year. A San Bernardino County Deputy Sheriff was sitting in his idling cruiser, just waiting for the opportunity to harass the good working folk visiting the store for some libations. Well, he saw my Pizza Rats shirt, and jumped out of his car, reaching for his baton. I did the only thing that can stop a law dog i that situation, and chirped, “CORRUPTION!” Sure enough, Law Dog stood down, and I went into the store to get my booze because sobriety is not an accident, just poor planning.

When I went to pay for my bottle, Celeste the Cashier took look one look at my Pizza Rats shirt, and —— hey, I need to share a great t-shirt idea for your organization. “Contract This, Robert!” with a pizza rat grabbing its crotch. You might be wondering why I am giving you a license to print money with this idea, but you see, David, I am a giver. You can ask the Fayetteville Woodpeckers how well my t-shirt ideas soar. I was the the guy who came up with the “Fear The Wood! Respect the Pecker!” t-shirt that took the Carolina League by storm. Don’t ask their top brass about it though because they were all sore about sexual innuendos tarnishing their product, so I had to hire a local t-shirt company to print the shirts. Those guys are rich enough to have a cocaine problem these days.

Anyway, it is getting late here in California, so I would just like to reiterate my concerns about how people treated me today while wearing the the Pizza Rats shirt. Is that something to expect in the future? If so, I am going to want to order about ten more.

Your friend in baseball,

Bads85

PS: Some say it will the be the Year of the Rat. Others say it will be the Year of the Space Hog. I think it will be the Year of the Tufted Titmouse.

Dear Hunter Horenstein [Director of Fan Engagement; Myrtle Beach Pelicans]:

My sources have informed me that you have arrived in Southern California. As a precaution, I added some extra cameras to the home security system and ensured the dude in the sniper tower has unlimited access to hot coffee so he can remain ever vigilant. You see, I am not sure if you were miffed by the burgundy pants comment not that long ago, and one can never be too careful these days because there are all sorts of crazy people on the internet. I am pretty sure your visit to Southern California really has nothing to do with me though, even though I am kind of a big deal. Most minor league execs do afford me the professional courtesy to inform me they are coming to town, so forgive me for being wary.

Perhaps you are in town to interview with California League clubs — the Stockton Ports have an opening in the general manager position. Pat Fillipone [President; Stockton Ports] will probably be despondent when he discovers I am not interested in the position, especially since the Ports are hosting the 2020 California League All Star Game. You might have deduced that I am excellent at planning and executing gala events, so I really am the guy to be on point for the All Star event planning. Perhaps I will just offer my services as a remote contractor and offer advice from afar as the humidity in Stockton is just too for this desert wanderer. They better send me on official All Star game polo though,

I am sure that while you are apparently spending the holidays in Southern California, your mind is with the Pelicans. After all, this is the time of the year when detailed promotion planning lays the groundwork for Golden Bobbleheads. Here is one for you: Billy Zane Night. Invite him to the game, your staff can re-create the climatic scene of Titanic when Caledon Hockley chases that scoundrel Jack and opens small arms fire as the unsinkable ship makes its slide into the ocean. His cult like following will flock to Myrtle Beach and the game. Maybe you could scream, “I am on top of the world” from atop the scoreboard at TicketReturn.Com Field at Pelicans Ballpark as that Celine Dion song plays.

You might be wondering why I am offer you such sage advice when we have never formally met. I am a giver, Hunter,  and you seem that you might be a minor league lifer, which is a rare thing in today’s current minor league business model. In general, minor league owners do not pay their front office staffs enough, even though most clubs are making a great deal of money these days. Because of that, young talent like yourself often leave. The owners do not have to pay more because other young guns are always knocking on the door. Hey, it is a business, so they can do what they want, but a great deal of knowledge gets lost with this turnover — knowledge that has to be re-learned again by younger employees.

No one knows the history of a minor league organization like the employees who were working there at the time. As you know, are certain nights, things just happen at a minor league park, things usually not related to the baseball game. — it could be a mascot race gone wrong, a tweaker destroying the relish bottles at the condiment stand, or a video on the scoreboard that causes the crowd to roar. It could some fans coming into the press box on the last Tuesday night of the 2018 season and hijacking the music being played over the stadium sound system. When front offices experience high turnover, this lore usually leaves with the employees, and over time, this erodes the minor league experience for everyone.

I suppose I am all about preserving the oral tradition of minor league baseball through missives with those who know the business. Of course, I am also all about the art of promotions, which is why the Stockton Ports will be offering Zamboni rides up and down the waterfront this Cal League All Star game. 

Have a good holiday season. I hope you are a vigilant with people who leave their holiday decorations up too long as you are with those who put them up too early.

Your friend in baseball,

Bads85

PS: I do not really have a sniper in my front yard. I do have a Christmas inflatable of Santa and Frosty in a duck blind, and Frosty has a shotgun, while Santa has binoculars. This year is right next to Snoopy on a Zamboni, which is driving to another Santa in a taco truck. I modeled my lawn display this year after the All Star game in Stockton, which is why the band is front and center,

Dear Taylor McCarthy [Associate Athletic Director; University of New Hampshire]:

Did I ever tell you the bus story? If so, please stick with me again because there is an ending that pertains to you.

In 2013, after the San Jose Giants clinched the Northern Division Championship of the California League, the team was immediately awarded with a bus ride to Southern California to play either the Inland Empire 66ers or the Lancaster JetHawks, who were playing the deciding game of the Southern Division Championship. When the bus pulled out of the stadium parking lot, the Giants were not sure who their opponent would be as the the southern playoff teams were still playing as the Southern Championship game had gone to extra innings However, the bus driver knew to go south, and he would get the final destination via his radio, so through the night the Giants’ bus went into the San Joaquin Valley as the smell of rotting corpse of Tom Joad permeated the air.

Meanwhile, the 66ers and JetHawks kept playing. And playing. And playing. Eventually, the bus came to a fork in road the Sierra Pelona Mountains– one way was San Bernardino; the other was Lancaster. The bus was forced to pull over on the side of the road, idling until the 66ers would eventually win in fifteen innings after the clock stuck two in the morning. No remembers it was Abel Baker for the 66ers who drove in Angel Rosa in the fifteenth that night, but some still picture that bus doing its Robert Frost imitation in the desert morning, wondering which way to go with miles to go before the team could sleep.

Most fans do not remember the bus story at all though. And why would they? The minors are a fresh slate each year, players, coaches, stats, and records all pulled out to sea by the tide known as the passing of time. Memories in the minors usually do not last through Christmas. Still, the bus idling in the pines of Gorman on a September night is a dam near perfect snapshot of the minors, To the east, one destiny. To the south, another. But first we must wait for other paths to catch up. And sometimes, as in your case, we get off the bus and walk towards the future — or run from the law.

Minor League Baseball is not a career too many people grow old in as they leave for more lucrative opportunities. My buddy Wade Howell [Vice President; Down East Wood Ducks and Hickory Crawdads] has a Wood Ducks tattoo on his inner bicep, and when I asked just what the hell he did that for, he said one night he was drunk and thought if he got the tattoo, he would not leave. I told him, “Well, now you will have a tattoo when you check out.”

Minor league baseball never really leaves a long timer as the residue is forever etched in his DNA. There really is not any nobility about it, but it ain’t crotch rot either. You are not really leaving minor league baseball to chase a new career; you just no longer have to stay at the stadium well after the arc lights go off.

I am sure you will do find great success in new endeavor, and MiLB will miss a guy with your talents, but someone like Owen Hopkins [Ticket Sales & Merchandise Executive, Stockton Ports] will eventually fill your shoes. It is the cycle of life stuff that Disney will never make a live action film about. At best there will be a reality show on a cable channel. 

Your friend in baseball,

Bads85

Dear Taylor McCarthy [General Manager, Stockton Ports]:

I recently saw you in a video on the Ports’ Twitter feed, and I thought, “My, Taylor has a deep, trusting voice. I have not written to him in a while. I should see if he has designed the 2020 California League All Star Game polos yet.” And right after you on the video was Owen Hopkins [Ticket Sales & Merchandise Executive, Stockton Ports]. Oh, how he has grown! Have your promoted him yet? You are fortunate his did not run to AA or join the circus. Talent like that is not going to stick around in Stockton unless it is top dog.

I heard from my 66ers peeps that my name came up in conversation at the California League winter meetings in sparkling Visalia. That does not really surprise me since I had quite the season last year, but those were days of idyllic innocence before Robert Manfred declared war on minor league ball and started telling children Santa Claus is not real. The 2019 season is long gone, and we march towards an uncertain which is why it is imperative I receive a 2020 California League All Star Game polo, preferably before the European tour in nearly June. Fret not, I should be back in time for the big game.

Since I am kind of a big deal across certain circuits, I think it would behoove your organization to grant my traveling party VIP access for the festivities. This your chance to be awarded the prestigious California League Executive of the Year, and you will be scrutinized for your hosting abilities. You need people like my crew to alleviate any awkward silences with ribald tales from the road. The story about how Tommy Lasorda once tried to get me thrown out of San Manuel Stadium always causes the vein in David Elmore’s [Owner; Inland Empire 66ers] to pulsate with glee.

Of course, I would have to come up prior to the All Star game as part of a scouting mission to make sure things are running smoothly at Banner Island Ballpark. I am certain to offer you sage advice about how to ensure the gala event runs smoothly (hint: do not allow your VIPs drink beer through their eye balls so the alcohol hits the optic nerve and goes straight to the brain). Perhaps your organization can give “Contract This, Robert!” t-shits with 5 O’clock Dock grabbing a strategic part of the male anatomy on the front to the thousands of fans that will be in attendance. Or maybe those should go out Opening Night.

Hey, do the hobos still hang out in those bushes along the water in right field? Will they be invited to the All Star festivities, or will they be temporarily moved to another part of town for those three days? Whatever you do, I would approve it with Mayor Michael Tubbs. That dude graduated from Stanford and had his own bobblehead night at a hockey game last year. In fact, you should probably sit him next to me at the All Str game, and I will have the finding for a new scoreboard secured by the fifth inning.

Once the hobos are gone, that frees the waterfront up for a massive yacht party. Your organization has the opportunity to do what cannot be matched in the California League: a tailgate on boats in the channel. Imagine the bourgeoisie of Stockton letting loose on watercraft throughout the All Star festivities. You could line the channel with food trucks and live music. You could boost season ticket sales by promoting this regatta right now. I mean, you should have been on this months ago, and I apologize for not sharing this with you sooner, but I have been busy. Still, it is not too late, and this would be an excellent photo op that could help propel you to Executive of the Year. After all, 2020 is the Year of Taylor. And the Ports, of course.

This is bigger than just an All Star Game; the is an event – -the cultural even of the year in the Cal League.

Your friend in baseball,

Bads85

Dear Anna Forslin {Promotions Manager; Inland Empire 66ers]:

Since I have not heard from you in a while, I can only assume you are working diligently on the 2020 66ers’ promotion schedule. I feel a bit of remorse that I have not been able to help you, but as one of minor league baseball most prolific ambassadors, I have been very occupied saving MiLB from contraction. I would rather be spending this time before the holidays drinking tumblers of bourbon while brainstorming future promotions, but my talents have been required in the war room. Now with MLB lickings its wounds after the savage salvos fired at the winter meetings in San Diego, I have time to talk promotions.

First though, I must lament that I have not received my 66ers’ holiday card yet. I hope it comes soon. The Myrtle Beach Pelicans have already sent me one, although it looks suspiciously like a postcard of their field rather than a holiday card. It has a great deal of red and green on it, so I am will to give them the benefit of the doubt, especially since the great Hunter Horenstein [Director of Fan Engagement] works for them. Check out his burgundy pants in their Twelve Days of Christmas promo. The 66ers should have a Hunter Horenstien Night at San Manuel Stadium, and the front office should wear pants like his. There should be some wicked drink specials also, and every inning, the PA dude should implore the crowd to raise their glasses to Hunter Horenstein.

I noticed that unlike most minor league organizations, the 66ers have not done a Twelve Days of Christmas promotion where each new season ticket holder gets twelve gifts. Regular season ticket holders get screwed, but that is just the nature of the beast.. While I commend you for being a nonconformist, I think that might help the 66ers’ season ticket sales. I know Sean Petersen is on his honeymoon, so I figured I can step to the plate to help your front office with this, even though I hate that damn song.

First Day of Christmas: One Shot! Any new season ticket holder (STH) must drink a shot with the front office at the season ticket holder breakfast

Second Day of Christmas: Two Beers. (STH get two beer vouchers with purchase). And a Shot!

Third Day of Christmas: Three hot hot dog vouchers. And a Shot!

Fourth Day of Christmas: Forty percent off merchants at the team store on opening night. And a shot!

Fifth Day of Christmas: Five seat upgrades. STH can choose five games over the season where they get to sit in Section 102, the greatest seats in minor league baseball because of Bads85’s Thirsty Thursday Club. And a shot!

Sixth Day of Christmas: Six headshot photos of GM Joe, two California Executive of the Year or forever pinned tweet. And a shot!

Seventh Day of Christmas: Seven Bobbleheads Bobbling. Yes, STH already get this, but this is not the brightest bunch. And a shot!

Eighth Day of Christmas: You know what, we only need seven days, unless you can think of more. And a shot!

Hey, is there anyone in charge of merchandise these days? The  team store is getting a bit stale for my taste, and we do not want to end up like the Quakes. Her are some suggestions for some new merch:

1. 66ers beanies. These will see in April and in the off season. And a shot! Wait, wrong list.
2. Contract This! t-shirts — you know, for solidarity with other minor league cubs.
3. El Cucuy hoodies.
4. The Baseball Bug t-shirts. Nostalgia sells. Look how well San Bernardino Spirit stuff flies off the shelf.
5. 66ers trading pins. 
6. 2019 California League All Star Game polos. For some reason, I still have not received mine yet.

Hey remember my suggestion a few months ago about SCO Girl Night in which your organization gives away 66ers scrunchies and Puka shell necklaces? I sure hope so because a promotion like this will reverberate with the younger generation who the 66ers desperately need to fill the ballpark as time is running out for the blue hairs. I shudder to think of the number of season ticket holders who are not going to make it through the winter. 

I am working on a Save The Homeless Night which will win you a Golden Bobblehead and national respect while I will get to make hobo jokes all season. Win win!

Your friend in baseball,

Bads85

Dear Samantha Stawarz [Merchandise Manager; New Hampshire Fisher Cats]:

Thank you for your update about my Fisher Cat merchandise that has never safely arrived to my house. I am glad the matter seems to be resolved, and I will be receiving my order very soon. My postman will be greatly relieved also as I had been convinced his incompetence and laziness was the reason why my New Hampshire Fisher Cats Uncle Sam Mock Twist LS had not been delivered. He is not the most emotionally stable gentleman (my holiday inflatables make him very skittish), and he was no doubt sensing my growing frustration as day after day went by with no package from your organization. Fortunately, my packages from the Cannon Ballers, Wood Ducks, Woodpeckers, Pelicans, Yard Goats, Storm Chasers, Tortugas, Beer Mongers, and Pizza Rats were arriving, so my postman could continue to focus on his job.

I was really hoping to wear my Fisher Cats’ shirt to baseball’s winter meetings in San Diego this week, but that can never happen now. I am sure you can empathize with with my bitter disappointment, but minor league veterans learn to cope when things do not go as planned. Plus, it was probably better that I wore the logos of teams on Robert Manfred’s contraction list to bring awareness to their plight. The failure of my package to arrive in a timely manner probably helped minor league baseball in the long term, so my suffering was not in vain. As those on various minor league circuits will tell you, I am a giver.

You might be wondering why someone from so far away from Manchester would want some Fisher Cat brand. Well, that is a very long story, but the gist of it is that I visited Northeast Delta Dental Stadium last summer as part of an 11,000 mile minor league road trip, and the Samuel Adams Bar in left field is extremely special. As a minor league ambassador, one of my responsibilities is to be a walking billboard for franchises that are doing things correctly, and your organization fit that bill one night last July. 

Hey, I just found out that a Fisher Cat is not a cat at all, but a member of the weasel family. Imagine my surprise! Fishers are much cuter than weasels, although they are not Baby Yoda cute (but nothing is). My favorite mustelid has always been the mink, but that might change one my Fisher Cats shirt arrives. I sure hope you put the right size in the box. Last year, the Quad City River Bandits sent me the wrong size Yoda shirt, and when I sent it back, they were out of those shirts in my size. I handled it pretty well, although their stadium flooded for the first half of the season, and their general manager now is the Executive Director of the YMCA in Davenport, Iowa. The baseball gods can be harsh sometimes. 

Anyway, thank you for your immediate attention in the matter of my shirt. Your attention to  detail is the type of quality customer service that make a big difference in the minor leagues. An organization kick the Rancho Cucamonga Quakes would have never taken the time to inform me where the hell my shirt was. Of course, I would have never ordered a shirt from them because their merchandise has been held hostage by 1990’s fashion for almost two decades, and their beer lines stretch until FOREVER on Thirsty Thursdays. 

May your holiday season be joyous.

Your friend in baseball,

Bads85

Dear Hunter Horenstein [Director of Fan Engagement; Myrtle Beach Pelicans]:

I am having a very hard time feeling my face right now as baseball winter meetings are reaching a frenzy now that Gerrit Cole signed a contract greater than the GDP of Palau, but I would like to clarify some of my comments about your attire. First of all, I did not know I was talking about THE Hunter Horenstein who cut his teeth with the Palm Springs Power. Anyone who interned for  Andrew Starke [Owner and President of the Palm Springs Power] has to have a bright future in this industry (Andrew is instrumental to my plan to bring the California League back to Palm Springs, even if he does not know that yet). Plus, you carry the weight of losing a Golden Bobblehead to something know as an Udder Tugger, so you must be resilient as all get out. Had I known you were the dude in the video, I doubt my my message would have been any different because I am still rather chafed about your militant stance on holiday decorations, but I am confident that we can move beyond that for right now.

Secondly, and most importantly, savagely tacky holiday sweaters and viciously burgundy trousers are not necessarily bad things. In fact, in your videos that are splendid items because they indicate that you are COMMITTED TO THE BIT. I mean, you look ridiculous, so do not wear that outfit to a formal party, but looking ridiculous is what Christmas costumes are all about, and you obviously have the panache to pull off the outfit. The tie is brilliant also. Can I have it as a token of our budding friendship? Or can you at least tell me where you procured it? I cannot help you with the dog voice thing though, other than to suggest giving your dog a noble, wise voice rather than the voice of a beast with all the blood drained from its head because of the raging red rocket just below its undercarriage. 

You know what really stands out in the most recent Pelicans’ 12 Days of Christmas though? That sleek bullpen cart. One of those is desperately needed at San Manuel Stadium, the home of the Inland Empire 66ers, to rush me to the beer stands and the team shop. Walking to those places from my seats is a bit daunting because of the number of large peasants in the aisles, but Joe Hudson [General Manager; Inland Empire 66ers] says their money spends just as well as mine, even if they try to snort relish through straws at the condiments table. If I had a bullpen cart like that, they would scatter as I roared to the beer garden, plus I could wave to the cheering throngs as I near my destination. GM Joe probably would not like it that much because he is all about safety and that nonsense. 

I used to be GM Joe’s unofficial assistant, but contract negotiations never went anywhere, so I sort of went freelance last year, although I was a Celebrity Burrito Judge on Food Truck Throwdown Night. That was also the night of the Beer Mile, so I am sure you can imagine the projectile vomiting. At the end of the season, I was named the Thirsty Thursday Ambassador, mainly because I traveled all over the globe wearing minor league apparel. By now you have probably heard of my untamed trek through the Caroline League last season. Myrtle Beach was not on the itinerary because my presence was requested in Cooperstown on the induction weekend. 

This is the part of the missive in which I am supposed to start talking about oral tradition and the passing of knowledge from the wizened more league road veteran to the young ambitious, up and coming front office executive, and then we realize we learned for each other, blah, blah, blah. I am going to skip that part this time because that tequila bottle is getting dangerously low, and Melvin the bartender is making noise about last call even though it seems like happy hour just ended. 

Not only do I look forward to your upcoming work on the Pelicans’ promotion schedule, but I have all sorts of suggestions  to share (Fayetteville’s battlecry of “Fear the Word! Respect the Pecker!” was my brainchild). Remember, a team can never, ever have too many shot glass promotions.

Your friend in baseball,

Bads85

PS: I was not really calling you a Nazi. That was poor choice of words in these troubled times, and I will do better. I am sorry if it caused offense. Plus, real Nazis would never wear viciously burgundy trousers.

Dear Sean Petersen [Director of Ticket Operations and Sales; Inland Empire 66ers]:

I know you are getting married this weekend, so I will probably not see you at baseball’s winter meetings this week in San Diego, which is almost certainly for the best since the savagery down here makes women widows. For instance right now, the bartender is threatening to play Journey all night unless I return the bottle of Fireball that my new friend, Garrulous Gil (GG), has in his clutches. Oh, we will return it alright; when it is empty!

It is a rather long story about how we reached this dive well away from the baseball executive pitter patter that one finds in the tourist trap bars on the first real night of the meetings. Since your nuptials are in less than a week, let’s just say we had to ditch A-Rod because he kept wanting to order virgin Slippery Nipples for the entire bar of sailors. If Tom Baxter [Fundraising and Community Engagement Manager; Hartford Yard Goats] had walked in the door while that nonsense was going on, he would have never let us muss his magnificent hair. The reason I am writing you from this establishment is to ask if you can cover any potential bail charges if things go south this week because we are tight like that. 

I know that Joe Hudson [General Manger; Inland Empire 66ers] is down here because he had to pick up yet another California Executive of the Year Award, but I do not really want to ask him this favor because he will almost certainly give me a lecture about poking fun at low level minor league front office employees, and he is right, but sometimes these wannabe young guns just want to take a shot a legend, so they @ me about some perceived wrong, and suddenly it is like a Rancho Cucamonga Quakes’ fan is popping off about order in the standings, and I can only be quiet for so long.

Say, how new season ticket sales progressing? Are you recruiting in better places than West Valley Detention Center and local methadone clinics? Maybe you should talk to GM Joe about having certain discount promotions aimed at bartenders and servers so the liquor will flow more readily on game night. People who work in the the drinking industry consume booze through their eyeballs on their nights off. We need more purple like that at the park on slow weeknights.

I think Theo Epstein just walked in with a hobo! I am not sure what that is all about, but they are looking pretty deeply into each other’s eyes. GG says that is not really Theo Epstein, but GG in well into his cups. I am going to continue to believe that is Theo until I see further evidence that is is not. Hey, remember the good old days when it was not only socially acceptable to hog tie Cubs’ fans to one’s car at the Cactus League, but also a civic duty? Life was simpler back then. 

Anyway, it is nice knowing that you have my back this week with the bail issue. I do not think I will need any firearms this week because of my ninja qualities that allow me to hit up three beer stands at San Manuel Stadium whenever the Beer Batter strikes out. My lawyer is here, so legal counsel is not necessary… yet. We might need some more shot glasses though. If you could Fed Ex a half a dozen down here, we would be forever grateful. Just wrap them in an El Cucuy jersey so they do not break. 

Enjoy your nuptial bliss and honeymoon. I took in a minor league game in Vancouver with my bride on my honeymoon. Make sure you get to a Puerto Rican Winter League game on yours. You will never be this free again.

Your friend in baseball,

Bads85

Dear Ryan Moore [General Manager; Myrtle Beach Pelicans]:

My $67.31 of Myrtle Beach Pelicans merchandise (including tax and shipping) arrived this weekend, and I must say, I will look absolutely smashing if I choose to wear this at baseball’s winter meetings. I was going to stick with a wardrobe of teams on the contraction list, but the polo shirt looks so official I might just wear it to saunter past security at the Hilton San Diego Bayfront. Why bother with lanyards with official documents when one looks like they walked right out of a conference room at TicketReturn.Com Field at Pelicans Ballpark?

Included in my package was a Pelicans’ 20th Anniversary pennant, which was in 2018. This is now hanging on a wall in my office, which is a distinct honor for your organization. The pennant, coupled with the $67.31 I spent, should qualify me as an official Myrtle Beach 8 Game High Tide mini-pack owner, so I think it is equitable that I can reap all the benefits of that ownership. Since I am essentially marketing your brand in the lucrative Southern California region, perhaps bumping me up to a 35 Game Low Tide membership would be fair. This way I could utilize the 20% on team merchandise for future purposes and perhaps attend the Meet the Team party if I am in town. 

If you happen to see me at the winter meetings this week, please do not be offended if I do not have time to have an earnest conversation with you. Many minor league executives are wanting to pick my brain over the contraction issue, plus there is a good chance than if you see me, I will be getting chased by security. Such is the life of a minor league outlaw, but if our paths cross at a local watering hole, I will let you buy me a beer or seven. In return, I will let you take a picture with me as we drink shots so you can build your Carolina League street cred.

Speaking of the Carolina League, I was not planning on getting out that way in 2020 because I was going to concentrate on the Eastern League, but those hard charging minor league executives of the Kannapolis Cannon Ballers have unofficially invited me to christian their new stadium this year, so I thought I might swing down to Kinston to see my old buddy Wade Howell [Vice President; Down East Wood Ducks and Hickory Crawdads], and if I go that far south, I might as well just keep going to Myrtle Beach. The trip would be much easier if some high speed rail existed in the Carolina League, but you know how queasy politicians are when it comes to rail projects.

Hey, have you ever thought of drug testing the people who run your organization’s social media accounts? Or does that really matter in Myrtle Beach? I saw some dude in some sort of savagely tacky holiday sweater and sunglasses talking to your bat dog, and the dog was supposed to be taking back. C’mon, Ryan, bat dogs are supposed to be noble beasts with intelligence, not some bad punchline to a failed gag. Plus, your dude was wearing some viciously burgundy trousers. I think those gummy bears he had been snacking on earlier were not your ordinary fruit snacks. I am assuming this was the Nazi who had serious issues about starting decorating for Christmas too early, yet this guy is shitting all over the sacred Twelve Days of Christmas promotion. I don’t think I need to remind you that heroes like Audie Murphy fought fascism on foreign soil so we can have the Twelve Days of Christmas promotion.

Anyway, I seed to go. I believe that former US Senator Barbara “Babs” Boxer has just walked into the bar, and she is going to want to catch up with me as it has been a while since we conversed.  Back when we were young, we used to converse a great deal, but time and distance takes its toll.

Your friend in baseball,

Bads85

Dear Dave Schermerhorn [General Manager; Norwich Sea Unicorns]:

Congratulations on a successful rebrand in the face of tyranny from Major League Baseball. Your new Sea Unicorn logo is outstanding, a pleasant indication that Brandiose has returned to form after a couple of head scratching designs. Choosing to avoid cheap alliteration by going with the Norwich Narwhals was a shrewd move also as most people who do not live near an ocean have any idea what a Narwhal is.

Being Connecticut, I am sure your organization will receive all sorts of indignation about how the team name is just not up to their high standards. Dave, let me give you some solid advice: Fuck those people. The Hartford Whalers could be reborn, and those people would complain that the logo was too retro. Life is too short to try to please people who have a large sucking hole in their heart where most people have a soul. Your new logo is a very pleasing addition to the minor league landscape, and I should know since I am a grizzled minor league ambassador who has traveled throughout all the minor league circuits to immerse myself in the minor league atmosphere.

I even made it to Senator Thomas J. Dodd Memorial Stadium last summer when I was on my 11,000 mile minor league road trip. Unfortunately, I did not have the pleasure of making your acquaintance and having a few shots of Jim Beam with you like true minor league executives do when they are well met. You see, I sort of made a mistake when reading the schedule, and the local nine was on the road that evening. Imagine my embarrassment. Still, I was able to use a couple tricks of the trade to tour your empty stadium, plus take a picture next to the green beast in front of your main gate. My son told me that was an alligator, which goes to show yo you cannot trust everything you find on the internet because everyone knows there are no alligators in Connecticut.

Are you guys planning on getting rid of that beast with the rebrand? Because it would look really good in my bar, which is also the meeting place of the Southern California Down East Wood Ducks Backers, Sons of Vengeance Chapter. You might be wondering how it came to pass that a California League season ticket holder became so intertwined with the Woodies that I was personally invited by Wade Howell [Vice President; Down East Wood Ducks and Hickory Crawdads] to throw out a first pitch in Kinston last summer (which of course I did for only a fool would refuse such an honor), but it is a very long story, and brevity is important at this time because Robert Manfred wants to put you out of a job.

If you were to promise me that beast outside your stadium for saving your franchise, well, I would ensure that the Norwich Sea Lions will be safe. You see, I am not only the Thirsty Thursday Ambassador (Joe Hudson [General Manager; Inland Empire 66ers and two time California League Executive of the Year] presented me with my own business cards with that title), but I am also Generalissimo of the Forces of the Night. I will be in San Diego next week taking the struggle to Manfred in the lobby of the Hilton San Diego Bayfront. My buddy Harold works in tech, and he assures me he can create some nifty badges that will gain my legions access to the hotel. It is hard to lose when Silicon Valley has your back.

Did you know that former Commissioner Bub Selig once threatened to slap a restraining order on me? Well, technically it was not me because I was going by an alias then, plus his office had the wrong address, but the entire matter was over beer prices at ballparks. I lost that one, but the struggle continues. We will not lose this time though.

Hey, when do you think Sea Unicorn shot glasses will be available? And here is a marketing suggestion — make sure Norwich is on your t-shirts as well as the logo. If I were to wear a nameless Sea Unicorn logo to a Pioneer League game or Disneyland, no one would know who I was representing, and eventually some hayseed is going to try to chat me up about how the sea lion looks like a gopher whose legs were pushed into a wood chipper. Think nationally here, not just regionally. Trust me; I am the guy who put the Wood Ducks on the national map.

Your friend in baseball,

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