dear john

Player: Darren Holmes
Card: 1993 Fleer #412
Errors: Player was told it was a team picture, only to discover he was alone in the stadium for an intimate afternoon with the photographer. Player's Rockies uniform looks remarkably similar to Milwaukee jersey. Player staying very classy with his sporty V-neck, accompanied by matching long sleeve combo.
Comments:
Dear Darren,
It is very difficult for me to write this. You've been a fairly adequate part of my life for almost six years now. We've had some good to above-average times. Vero Beach. San Antonio. Beloit.
But something seems to have changed with you lately.
I catch you staring off into space.
You shave irregularly - and I mean that both in terms of frequency and coverage of your face. Your posture could be considered weak, at best.
But it's more than that. I didn't realize how I truly felt until I saw your 1993 Fleer card - the guy sitting next to me on the bus was using it as a bookmark for his copy of "Six People You Meet in Hell".
Geez, Darren - you're supposed to be a major league ball player. Someone kids idolize. A hero to grown men. The guy women dream of being with.
1993 Fleer says otherwise.
First of all, did you notice that you're on the Rockies now? Guess what: you got picked in the expansion draft. So what's with the Brewers gear? Grow up, Darren.
I might have forgiven you that. I might have been able to overlook a uniform slip after all our history. But you're holding a bat! A bat? The Brewers are in the American League, for at least four more years! You've never batted once in your entire career! You may as well have picked up a sword or a fireman's hose or a large mouth bass. Ridiculous.
That picture is sort of a symbol of where we went wrong. I want to face reality. You live your half-shaven, dazed, wrong-team life in Fantasyland.
I suppose you know where this is going: I really believe it would be better if we took some time off, split up, saw other people or, preferably, all of the above.
I hope you know how hard this is for me. I'm tearing up inside just trying to write this letter. But we know this is what's best for both of us. Or at least me.
So as we move our separate ways, be assured, it was definitely you, not me.
Love,
Baseball
Scoring: LO4

the stuff righties are made of

Player: Daniel Cabrera
Card: 2007 Topps #54
Errors: Statuesque. Player may be hiding secret government information in glove clutched to his chest. Player allowed 5-year-old son to sign Major League Baseball card.
Comments: The dame walked into my office like a gumball machine spilling on an ice rink, chewy bits dashing all over the room. Of course, I knew she was trouble. What I didn’t know was how much trouble was paying today.
“Are you a detective, mister….”
“Pignatano,” I answered, coolly chewing a piece of licorice so red it would have made the Pope whistle. “Detective Joe Pignatano is what it says on the door - right below 'fire escape'. Can I help you?"
The dame wore a hat so high it nearly scratched the ceiling and blouse cut so low, it nearly touched the Devil. She leaned in like a cat toying with a wounded frog. Or so I imagined.
“Well, you see detective,” she said, lighting a pipe. “It’s my boyfriend, Danny. He’s a baseball player. But he’s got a little trouble.”
There was only two reasons a dame with a high hat and low standards comes in talking about her boyfriend. To kill him or to kill me. And that’s one more option than I can handle on a Tuesday.
“Boyfriend, huh? Well, what’s the trouble with the big lug?” I asked, trying not to look directly at the booger that was dangling from her nostril like a mountain climber clinging to Matterhorn. “Can’t find his way around the bases anymore?”
She started to cry and I almost felt bad about the wisecrack. Almost.
“It’s just that, well, he took some pills because we were having some problems, you see?”
I saw.
“And the pills,” she said, pausing to dab her face with a quilt so big it could have covered the third Hawaiian island. “Well, they didn’t work quite right. And now his arm has been erect for more than four weeks. He's just standing there, staring off into space, immobile. He can't drive. He can't go to the movies. He can’t even sign his name - he had to use his toes to cash his check. We couldn't consult a physician. So we came to you.”
She paused and looked me over like a parrot stalks a cheese doodle. I didn’t budge.
“So, can you help?” she asked.
Sure, I could. But what was in it for me? A few laughs? A quick thrill? A trip to a non-descript spring training field where only the light posts grow higher than the palm trees?
Then, she reached into her purse and pulled out $2,500 cash, like a druggist unwrapping cyanide pills.
Suddenly, it became clear. If this guy was gonna be slipped a Mickey, I was the bloodhound for the job.
“Okay, dame, I’ll take your case. Under one condition: I drive.”
Dames. They drive like a chocolate syrup on a pack of cigarettes. If you catch my drift.
Scoring: E9

head full of bed

Player: Dickie Thon
Card: 1989 Upper Deck #258
Errors: Apparently still on MLB probation, player was not issued team hat. Player showed up to stadium on wrong day or wrong city - discovered park empty.
Comments: We join this week’s Uglee Card's 2008 Salute!…to hair criminal trial, already in progress...Let's listen in...

Fancy lawyer man: Your honor, I object! Arguing facts not in evidence! At no point has anyone presented even a single shred of testimony that my client was sleeping directly before he arrived at the ballpark.
In fact, Mr. Thon’s wife testified that my client spent most of the morning in question grooming his expansive, luxurious mustache and eyebrows.
If my esteemed opponent wants to prove a charge of aggravated bed head, she knows that state statute requires hair intent. Her conduct is totally unprofessional.

Fancy lawyer woman: Well, your honor, I object to that characterization!
He knows I have latitude in my cross examination. I think my opponent has gone out of his way to show that his client’s scruffy, disheveled faux-beard is part of a “style.” I’m trying to show that this is more than a case of negligent hat hair. This hair has been teased!

Anyhow, I have a right to question the witness once he takes the stand.
Judge in bathrobe: Thank you, counsel and counsel. I’ll take both your arguments into consideration. But first, I’d like to ask the cat on Mr. Thon’s head a few questions.

Thon’s head: Meow.

Judge in bathrobe: Case closed!

Scoring: F8

size matters

Player: Bobby Knoop
Card: 1971 Topps #506
Errors: Playing in front of one (blurry) fan. Player wearing a light blue uniform, with matching belt. Player wearing long sleeve shirt at spring training.
Comments: Facts: Patient is Major League baseball player. Came in to office today (8/5/70) complaining of declining batting average, reduced power. Feels inadequate at the plate.
History: Player started career with California Angels, finishing 24th, then 18th in MVP voting in his second and third seasons. Those years were highlighted by a .269 average in 1965, followed by 17 homers and 11 triples in 1966. Last year, patient batted just .229 with only 5 home runs. Gold Glove fielding remains unaffected.
Diagnosis: In this physician's opinion, patient is suffering from TBS, also known as Tiny Bat Syndrome. Patient appears to be using a Little League bat, or possibly a novelty giveaway bat, during actual Major League games. Tiny bat leaves patient unable to reach any pitches thrown over outside part of the plate. On the rare occasion when player did make contact, bat shattered and splinters blinded opposing catcher Ray Fosse.
Recommendations: Drink plenty of fluids. Get plenty of rest. Take ibuprofin for any pain or fever. Do not operate heavy machinery. Borrow regulation Major League baseball bat from teammate Bill Melton (3B) or Carlos May (OF). Physician does not recommend borrowing bat from Gail Hopkins (1B). May substitute. No refills.
Scoring: F4

i pitched in dodger stadium and all i got was a free baseball

Player: Pedro Astacio
Card: 1993 Fleer #57
Errors: Stadium evacuated before picture taken. Photographer borrowed from Los Angeles County High School. Hat also borrowed.

Comments: LOS ANGELES - A day Pedro Astacio will always remember will go down in Dodger history as a day to forget. Even Vin Scully couldn't smooth this one over.

With the Dodgers uncharacteristically in last place in the National League West - more than 20 games behind the division leading Atlanta Braves - the team decided to thank their fans with a promotion unique in the annals of baseball: Pitcher for a Day.

The Dodgers announced they would hold an open tryout for the fans who attended the Sept. 18 game against the Giants. The winner would pitch the first inning Sunday, the series finale, and earn a one-inning Major League paycheck.

Out of a crew of single moms, retired Navy Seals and high school shortstops "emerged" a 29-year-old Irvine, Calif., accountant. Pedro Astacio was his name.

Astacio told reporters it was no fluke. He informed the assembled media that for the last eight years, he had been a middle reliever for his firm's baseball team - nicknamed the "Acloutants" - in the Southeastern California SubPro League.

At tryouts, Astacio hit high 70s on the radar gun. Twice.

He also hit four other people auditioning and an usher on the way to her car.

But by Saturday, the Dodgers public relations machine was working overtime hours that would have made Astacio's head spin at his day job. He was touted as "the CPA with the low ERA", the "bean counter unafraid of beanball."
Through it all, Astacio was unfazed.
"It's definitely a bigger stage, but we played some huge games in the SeCSPL, so I think I can handle it," he said, while being measured for an awkward-fitting uniform. "(Former major leaguer) Tom Burnansky played a year in the league and he only hit .319 off me. I'm ready."
An hour before the game, Astacio grabbed his lucky accounting belt and went out to warm up, as manager Tommy Lasorda threw up quietly in his office.
Astacio's first pitch was his best of the night: a ball, outside, which catcher Mike Scioscia snagged by diving to his left. It was the last pitch Scioscia caught on the fly.
Astacio got through the first inning, as the promotion had promised. His line: 22 batters, 19 runs (all earned), 10 walks, 6 hit batters, 3 home runs.
Also, 2 Dodgers infielders injured, 1 Giant batter on the 60-day disabled list, 2 fans hit by errants throws and 1 disgusted opposing manager.
"I understand this is supposed to be fun," said Roger Craig, whose team won the game 20-2. "But I got guys getting hurt because this maniac can't hit the side of zeppelin. (Catcher Kurt) Manwaring was scared to go up to the plate. I had to sit him. We're not sure when Willie (McGee) will ever be the same. Doctor said if the pitch had been going more than 50 miles per hour, he'd be dead.
"When Kevin Bass and Cory Snyder are the only guys looking forward to batting, we're in trouble," Craig said. "I offically hate the fans."
After the game, Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda was inconsolable.
"Alston's rolling over his in grave," said the ashen manager. "I lost more weight during this game than six years on SlimFast."
As for Astacio? He was still beaming, six hours after the game.
Wearing his #56 uniform and a free hat, he held up the souvenir baseball the team had given him.
"I plan to hold it in my right hand forever," he said. "My right hand - that's the magic one."
Scoring: L4