Dead Religions

Dear Austin [Vice President, Sales & Marketing; Fayetteville Woodpeckers]:

I hope you have been well since we last spoke and have been able to put that embarrassing Peckerwood nonsense behind us. I write to you today because of a concern with the concessions company to which you guys might have just unknowingly sold your soul, Pro Sports Catering. These guys handle the Rancho Cucamonga Quakes’ concessions, and while they have improved the fare from burnt hobo ass to mediocre chain restaurant fare, the city of Fayetteville already has three Applebee’s restaurants. Do they really need another one at the baseball stadium? And just why does a city of 200,000 have three Applebee’s?

Yes, I know that Pro Sports Catering has impressive credentials, and their CEO Tom Dickson is quite the legend in minor league baseball circles. Sure, he is no David Elmore, but who is? Dickson has been on a hell of a run though as his concession empire spreads like crotch rot throughout the land. However, my associate Bongwater says to never fully trust a guy who took a wrecking ball to a strip club, which is essentially what Dickson did in Lansing back in the 90’s to get his stadium built. Those strippers did not have the EPA to fight for their habitat, unlike the mighty woodpecker.

Bongwater is a strange dude though – I mean the guy received his nickname for passing a flask of bongwater down our row once. We all thought it was Maker’s Mark until we took a pull. Imagine our bitter surprise. Anyway, this is not about Bongwater although I am sure we will return to him at some point. This is about impersonal mall food being branded with an artsy fartsy name to give it a local authentic feel. Jump Boot Jerky sounds like it has ties to Fort Bragg, but let’s be honest. It doesn’t.

Now I am not saying you should terminate your contract with Professional Sports Catering. I am just saying this agreement needs to be more than just blind faith, and your organization should establish exactly who is in control. After all, these guys were almost certainly responsible for the Great Beer Line Fiasco in Peoria at the Arizona Fall League last November. I am sure my buddy Nick will fill you in at the Lions Club Luncheon tomorrow. He really loves to tell that story.

Are you nervous for you speaking engagement tomorrow? It is normal to feel a few butterflies. As an expert on service clubs (I have been asked to leave the Optimists’ Club twice for being a realist), I can give you solid advice. For starters, make jokes about rival service clubs, especially those Rotary bastards. Secondly, show great interest in joining their club. Give them some bullshit about wanting to put down roots, and these guys will be taking you to dinner all over town (perhaps at one of the three Applebee’s in town). Do not be afraid to pound the podium to emphasize your points, especially the ones about the stadium cost overruns. That keeps the really old guys awake, and it makes you appear full of passion. Those Lions Club guys love their passion.

You should refer most questions to subordinates, preferably ones from other clubs. These Lions Club guys will talk your ear off if they get a chance, and you and your organization are busy people. I suggest referring most questions to Max Gun [Director of Broadcasting and Media Relations; Lynchburg Hillcats]. We all know that guy loves to talk, and I am pretty sure the Lions will not realize they are talking to a guy from another state.

These Lions are also going to want to hear stories of how hard your job is – young people having to toil is ambrosia to the service club folk. If you have any stories about how you pulled yourself up by your bootstraps and then trampled on the poor to get into Colgate, this is the time to share them. If not, maybe you can tell them about all the email inquiries to which you must respond. And the weirdos who author those requests.

Oh my. Time is slipping by, and we have not even touched upon my main concerns about Professional Sports Catering. I suppose that, like Bongwater, will have to wait for another day.

Your friend in baseball,
Bads85

PS: I strongly recommend closing your presentation by leading the Lions in a “Fear the Wood! Respect the Pecker” chant.

Dear Professional Sports Catering:

I write to you in hopes that there is a human being beyond this faceless monolith that can assist me with a grave concern. Before I address that concern though, as a season ticket holder for the Rancho Cucamonga Quakes, I would like to say thank you for improving the quality of the concession fare at LoanMart Field. We seasoned veterans of the place used to call it LoanFart Field because, well, I think you know why (actually we still call it the Epicenter because we are not slaves to corporate sponsors).

Before your organization took over operations, the stadium fare was the equivalent of gas station pizza. These days, it is clearly Applebee’s quality. Rome was not built in a day, and either is high quality concession food, so I hope that your company continues to bestow improvements in the fare offered at the beautiful, but hardly original LoanMart Field. I think we all agree that everyone deserves better than Applebee’s at the old ballpark as Applebee’s is where people go when they have given up on the evening – or to escape local law enforcement officials. Perhaps you should look down the road at San Manuel Stadium for ideas. Their motto is “Too Much Bacon Is Never Enough, Even on Ice Cream!” Well, at least it will be once my contract dispute with the general manager is put behind us.

The main reason I write to you is because of a horrific injustice witnessed last November in a concession line at a stadium that your company is responsible for – the Peoria Sports Complex during the Arizona Fall League. There was only one beer line on a Friday night to serve the almost 1,900 people in attendance, and one poor lady working the line. As you well know, Friday is DRINKING NIGHT in Peoria, so the line was almost endless, and took over two innings to get to the front.

What was almost as disheartening as waiting in that line and missing Vladimir Guerrero Jr’s only hit of the night was the cruel conditions in which this poor, poor employee was subjected to work. It can get very cold in the desert at night in November, something both the coastal elites and tubbers from the Heartland do not realize. Not only was the night as frigid as a skater girl at a surf party that night, but it was extremely cold also. Luckily for me I had the warmth of my companions to keep me warm (plus I dressed in layers because this was not my first rodeo), but the poor employer had to keep sticking her hands in coolers of ice to serve the beer. I am sure your organization is familiar with OSHA – you guys do not want to get on the incorrect side of those headhunting bastards.

As you can tell, this incident left a lasting impression on my friends and I, and frankly we want some recompense. Perhaps you should get the employee for Gortex gloves for her hands next year if they have not already been amputated for frostbite. You should also give my group of merry travelers lifetime admittance into the bar in left field during spring training, and you know, maybe assist with the college tuition of the employee’s children since their mother can’t work too much anymore with no hands.

I would like to think that perhaps your organization is only contracted in Peoria for the Cactus League because there is no money to be made in the Arizona Fall League. Perhaps this was the city of Peoria’s fault, and not yours. If so, continue the fine work, but can you still hook us up with those passes to the bar? Because that is the best place to watch the game in Peoria, and last year we were denied because of private parties. Twice.

Anyway, I am sure that we will discuss many things about the food quality at LoanMart Field this season, so offering me those bar passes would ensure our discussion get off on the right foot.

Your friend in baseball,

Bads85

Dear Nick Bray [Concessions Manager; Pro Sports Catering]:

Congratulations on your company, Pro Sports Catering, signing with the Fayetteville Woodpeckers. I have been around the minor leagues for a very long time and have recently had the pleasure of corresponding with one of their executives over the past few weeks, so if they are satisfied with with you working with them, you must be a solid dude — righteous even.

I was hoping you could help me out with a problem, even though it is probably outside your your job responsibility. Allow me to explain the situation, and perhaps you can direct me in the correct direction if you cannot solve this problem on your own. I would go straight to the source, but your company’s website leaves a bit to be desired in terms of finding proper ways to communicate — surely not your fault.

Last November, I attended an Arizona Fall League night game in Peoria, which is a stadium your company services. The beer line was was enormously long, and it took over two innings to be served. Yes, beer line as in singular because there was only one beer line in the entire stadium to service the 1,841 in attendance. There also was only one employee manning this line, a poor, overworked and overwhelmed female who was never going to be confused as a teenager again. Nick, I am sure you would agree that is some serious horseshit — one employee to serve thousands of customers on a blustery night. I am confident that would never happen on your watch.

There was something amiss with our order. There was a large group of us from all over the country that barely fit into our rented standard elite SUV. These guys are baseball fan royalty. Somebody changed their order or something, and she almost lost her mind. Well, I thought she did. My buddies Harold and JoeD said she didn’t, but I am pretty sure she did, and I deftly talked her down from the edge with my soothing voice and trusting eyes.

She was dealing with money and pouring beers both, which was very hard to do and slowing things down. Either her assistant wasn’t helping properly, or didn’t exist; we can’t remember that part. She was fine and dealt with that pretty well. It seemed like a situation where an overworked person with 100 angry people waiting for beer would lose their mind, but she actually handled it rather spectacularly.

You know why Nick? Because I was there to get her her through it because that is what I do.  I mean, it was kind of a mess there. Confusion abounded. There were extra beers, I believeI also remember her hands were freezing because she had to keep fishing beer out of the cooler. That had to have been an OSHA violation.. She either gave us the wrong beer order, or someone changed their order (or both), and she was going to have to put her hands back in that cooler, and no one was changing their order to accommodate her, so I said, “Let’s buy them all!” I then looked directly in her eyes, and she realized everything was going to be just fine. My buddy Lee and I got stuck with some sort of pig swill, but we made sacrifices for the GREATER GOOD. Or maybe Lee’s Uber hadn’t arrived yet, and I was walking around with two shit beers while those obnoxious Canadians there to see Vlad Guerrero Jr. were ranting like damn fools. Oh, something similar happened the previous year, so this is not a one game anomaly. Somebody is cutting labor at the expense of the fans and the employees. 

Anyway, Nick, I demand recompense from your company — not you because I am aware that this had nothing to do with you. I don’t really want anything for me because baseball has made me spiritually wealthy over the years. I want something for this poor, overworked employee. I suggest your company pay her children’s college tuition. You guys are expanding and can afford it — you even run Rancho Cucamonga’s stadium these days (I have great stories about that place that maybe I will share later). Alas, she was probably just a temporary employee who quit that cold night, so your company probably won’t be able to find that frostbitten poor thing to help her out (she might have even died in a shelter that night), so let me suggest something to make this all square.

There is a bar in left field in Peoria. Last spring, for the first time ever, my Cactus League crew was denied access because we were not part of some private party associated with a local law firm. My buddy Law Dawg even made calls to the law firm to gain entrance. The ambulance chaser on the line even assured Law Dawg that we would get access. It never happened, and we heard why. I propose that your company rectify their grievous error by assuring my crew has lifetime passes to that bar. We will certainly make that bar so, so much money because our baseball pilgrimages involve vast amounts of alcohol consumption. I understand that you probably just cannot snap your fingers and make this happen. If you could direct me in the proper direction though, I would greatly appreciate this.

Your friend in baseball,

Bads85

PS: Have the Woodpeckers shared their soon to be adopted slogan with you yet?

Fear the Wood!

Respect The Pecker!

I gave them that idea.

Dear Austin [Vice President, Sales & Marketing; Fayetteville Woodpeckers]:

I just sent your Director of Merchandising a request for information about purchasing fifty Peckerwood hats for the Redlands County Club Saturday Men’s Play group. Yes, when the stoic men of Redlands Country Club gird their loins this season, the beloved Peckerwood will be part of our attire. You see, “Fear the Wood! Respect the Pecker!” struck a chord with our fearless captain, and that chord has resonated throughout the entire team. I tell you what, Austin, the snowball is gaining momentum and soon will be an avalanche (I am sure the team vote will be just a formality). I certainly hope you have prepared for this and have made the proper orders with your merchandise firms. I suggest putting monograms of “Fear the Wood!” and “Respect the Pecker!” of the side of certain hats.

Just so you know, it is the Peckerwood, not the Woodpecker that has inspired my teammates to embrace your dignified logo (and my slogan which I gifted to you so your organization could make oodles of cash). I understand that we cannot officially change the name at this point in time, but the unofficial moniker is becoming a powerful entity that is already commanding respect.

As I am sure you know, the Woodpeckers are not the only bird logo in the Carolina League with “wood” in the name. Those hillbillies in Kinston call themselves the Wood Ducks and have quite the barbaric weapon wielding mascot. They refer to themselves as the Woodies, and even have that double entendre plastered on their home uniforms. No wonder they only drew 1,779 a game last season. They could have drew that in the High Desert, although I guess not getting sued by the home city is an improvement. Plus, most prison yards have better fields than the High Desert.

Speaking of attendance, I see the Woodpeckers only drew 359 a game last season. I am sure the new stadium and location will rectify that, plus Jim Perry Stadium is tiny, but 359 is a small high school crowd in these parts. How are your season ticket sales going? $900.00 for seats behind the dish is expensive (I pay about $550 for the same seats with the 66ers, but I get to sit with the Unknown and Beautiful). Does that exorbitant price include VIP parking? Are you expecting the executives from Cape Fear Valley Medical Center, Goodyear Tire, Purolator Filters, and MJ Soffee to purchase those seats? If so, expect a great deal of no shows behind home plate throughout the season while the working folk start their slow boil along the foul like in the outfield. Classism is an ugly thing in the minor leagues.  Also, beware of all the teat-suckers from the DoD and Federal Government.

Does the woodpecker have personal name yet? I would suggest Bartholomew – Bart for short. Bart the Righteous Pecker. Maybe he can carry a sword to right the wrongs of the Carolina League, a sword of JUSTICE AND MIGHT! Perhaps that is a little over the top, but you might want to let Ben Hughes run with it.

Another thing you should do is use a movie poster generate to create movie posters that include Bart in all the classics, say like Karate Kid or Tombstone. Imposing Bart over Ralph Macchio and Kurt Russel is something fans will devour.

I need to cut this short because first semester grades are due today. I would just assume give them all A’s and continue to talk about the upcoming season, but then my buddy JLAC would lose his shit over grade inflation. He is a Canadian lawyer, and our friendship is a story for another time.

Your friend in baseball,

Bads85

Dear Tony Ensor [President and General Manager; Amarillo Sod Poodles]:

I would like to congratulate your organization for creating for the almost perfect minor league team name, the Sod Poodles. It straddles the fence of savagery and wholesomeness like no other team name throughout the land.  I understand you received some very vituperative criticism over the name from some clowns who are obviously the crying on the inside because we have a big, black void where our souls should be type creatures who are destined to walk this earth alone. Well, let me assure you that the Sod Poodles is an outstanding moniker that captures the Pioneer Spirit that once made this country great  (as long as you were a white male). It sounds a bit naughty rolling off the tongue, but still nice at the same time.

I do have a suggestion that would help alleviate any future criticism: give your mascot a sidearm, and not just any firearm, something special and taboo like a flame thrower.  This weapon erases any lingering impotency that might be associated with the poodle part of the name. Anyone can carry a gun, but only something as bad ass as a Sod Poodle can brandish a flame thrower. Oh, give your mascot a simple but respect inspiring name like Spike. Spike the flame thrower wielding Sod Poodle. Do you know how many t-shirts you can sell with Spike and his flamethrower? Three shitloads at least, especially if the team rally cry involves a scorched earth policy. Spike learned a long time ago not to take prisoners. Spike is fierce, man. Fierce.

Anyway, you might be wondering, “Just who is this angel who has come into my life to fill my head with such grandeur ideas that will make my organization so much money?” Well, I am a guy who was been in this business for quite a while, working my way up to the unofficial Special Assistant to the GM of the Inland Empire 66ers (unofficial at this point because of intense contract negotiations). You probably have heard of the 66ers as they are owned by the Elmore Sports Mafia just like the Sod Poodles. You might not want to tell Dave you are communicating with me though. I am not sure he is over our last encounter years ago at the 66ers rebranding party at the Hangar 24 Brewery . Dave likes to make money though, so do not hesitate to implement my suggestions.

But I digress. There are three new minor league stadiums opening this season, and I am trying to make it to all three.  Las Vegas will be easy, and Fayetteville might be tough, but I am pretty sure I have a luxury box lined up there. You guys are right on the way for the family road trip in early July, which is a baseball pilgrimage of sort.  I have been perusing your stadium renditions, and I fail to see a bar. My good buddy and Padres’ fan Harold is going to be pissed if this is true. We recently journeyed to Mexicali for some winter league ball, and a waitress brought him ten beers in a bucket due to something getting lost in translation, and he now thinks all American ballparks should live up to Estadio B’Air. I don’t really disagree with him on this one (we do have polar opinions about bring pot across the US border though).

I am going to cut this missive short as I am still rocked by the story coming out of Tacoma. I mean if THE MAN doesn’t let you have a sax playing gorilla on the top of your stadium during a minor league game, well then the shackles are on. Forever. Hopefully, we shall continue our acquaintance, and maybe you can one day meet my buddy Harold. And my friend Nick, who taught me the word  “vituperative” today. He is a wiseass, that one.

Your friend in baseball,

Bads85

PS: Is “road trip” one or two words?

Austin,

Dear Austin [Vice President, Sales and Marketing; Fayetteville Woodpeckers]: