Category: Actual Conversations

These conversations actually took place.

The More Things Change, Yada, Yada, Yada…

Being an obnixous Yankee fan in a city where most baseball fans follow one of two so-called “medium market” teams, I often get asked to defend the charge that the Yankees’ (read: George Steinbrenner’s) spending habits have ruined the great sport of baseball.

My standard reponse is that yes, the Yankees do spend more than other teams, but that’s because they wisely (well, mostly wise) reinvest their money into the team. That money pays for a team that fans turn out to see, in turn, leading fans to buy the team’s merchandise and follow the team from around the world. What’s more, the Yankees pay millions of dollars to other teams in the form of revenue sharing, and a number of those teams take that money and put it back into the pockets of their owners, rather than putting that money into a team (for that team’s fans) worth cheering for. 

Rather, I counter, it isn’t the Yankees ruining baseball, but those owners taking that money to enrich themselves, rather than their team.

Even though free agency has only existed over the last 30-40 years of baseball’s lifespan, the concepts I’ve been talking about have been around a lot more.  In reading a recent interview at Baseball Analysts with Dan Levitt, who wrote a book about Ed Barrow, the Yankees’ first GM, it’s easy to see that my argument is not a new one:

Rich: Using newly available material from the New York Yankee financial records and previously unexplored financial data from 1951 Congressional hearings, you delved into the economic environment of baseball over the first half of the twentieth century. What was the most enlightening thing you learned about the Yankees?

Dan: Two things stand out. First, the Yankees reinvested their profits in the team while other franchises often distributed theirs out to the team’s owners, and second, the Yankees consistently paid the highest salaries.

I’d rather be a fan of a team that spends prodigiously than one run by a bunch of penny pinchers.  Sure, the Yankees are a .500 team at this point in the season, but their ownership has at least given them a chance.  I’d like for someone to honestly tell me that you can say the same about Pittsburgh or Florida. Those cities should have their teams taken away.

King Tom

What'samatter Babe Are Ya Feelin' Sick?

For the past few days, the Civee and I have been under the weather in more ways than one.

Beginning Friday, central Ohio was hit by a storm which dropped anywhere from 13 to 20 inches of snow on the area. As if the white death wasn’t enough, we’ve been sick.

The Civee has a nasty cough and a lot of congestion. I had a fever which hit 101.9 and has left me dizzy and disoriented (even more disoriented than usual).

Because the rest of my family lives everywhere but Columbus, they’ve been calling throughout the past few days to check on how we’ve been dealing with the snow. When I inform them of our illness, they’ve all passed along advice. Different advice.

My father advised taking a lot of vitamin C. My mother said we should drink hot tea and soup.

But my grandmother had the most interesting advice. She said to take a quarter cup of vinegar, a quarter cup of honey, mix it together and drink a tablespoon of it every six hours. I asked her if this was something she would try and she said yes, and the vinegar is important because it’s supposed to kill the germs in your throat.

I haven’t tried it. But I did think; wouldn’t drinking a can/bottle of beer every hour (or more frequently, depending on the illness) do the same thing?

King Tom

The Store Where People Buy Nothing

So the Sharper Image is declaring bankruptcy. As part of the reorganization, the company plans to close 90 of its mall-based stores (About half the SI retail outlets in the U.S.),

I’ve been in their stores in various malls many times. But I don’t think I’ve ever bought anything from them. Regardless of how cool it might be to own the life-size Darth Vader costume, the R2-D2 that really works or the Trump Steaks, I never really wanted to spend my hard-earned money there. Apparentley, I wasn’t the only one who felt this way.

One of my most memorable “shopping” experiences happened in a Sharper Image, probably about 10 years ago. I was hanging out with my brother Pete, who, at the time was about 12. We stopped in to the store and started browsing. They had two of those massaging chairs set up and I sat in one. I have to admit, it was quite comfortable. I told Pete that he had to try it out, so he sat in the other one. As soon as he did, some salesman in his mid-30s came over and said to Pete, “Excuse me, sir, but you have to be 18 to use the massaging chairs.”

I laughed so hard (especially because of the emphasis the guy put on the “sir”) that I almost fell out of the chair.

Well now, lil’ Petey is old enough to try the chair. Too bad SI is closing all those stores.

King Tom

Forcing a Case of Mistaken Identity

This afternoon, I was waiting for a table at the usual location of the Thursday hour of me. A gentleman came up to me and the conversation went something like this:

Older Gentleman: Mike?
Me: Excuse me?
Older Gentleman: You’re Mike, right?
Me: No.
Older Gentleman: Oh wait, no, not Mike, Morgan…?
Me: No, that’s not me either. (Invisible thought balloon above my head: Not even close. Do I look like a Morgan? Or Mike Morgan?)
Older Gentleman: You don’t work at the hospital?
Me: No, I don’t. (Still wondering how he got me confused with someone named Morgan).
Older Gentleman: (clearly dejected) I’m sorry. I thought you were a friend of a friend. Works at a hospital.

Usually, I don’t mind it when someone mistakes me for someone else. And sometimes I feel bad for letting them down. For instance, if someone thinks I’m their long lost friend who they haven’t seen in a long time, and I’m not that person, I feel bad for them. But it just gets a little weird when someone is insistent that you are someone you are clearly not. Like they’re trying to shoehorn you into an identity and pulling out every link they can to get you to be who they want you to be.

It’s happened to me a few times, the most notable of which wasn’t actually that bad. About 10 years ago, I was in a bar/restaurant in Jersey when a group of drunk guys came up to me, asking me if I was Mats Sundin. They were extremely insistent that I was, to the point where I had to tell them I was just to get them to go away. I then turned to one of my associates and asked “who the hell is Matt’s son Dean”?

King Tom

Make some other type of small talk, please

At work, I’m responsible for dealing with a large piece of office equipment manufactured by a company that I won’t name, but their company name begins and ends with the same letter. Anyway, when there’s a problem with the machine, I call the company’s (let’s just call them Company X) support line.

A little more than a year ago, Company X outsourced their support staff to somewhere in the Caribbean. I don’t remember exactly where, although I was told once and I do remember that it’s one of the places mentioned in the worst song ever.

Anyway, it’s pretty obvious that Company X’s customer service reps are still working on conversational English. During lulls in the call (when they have to wait for their computers to pull up records or whatever) they will often engage in a line of small talk:

-How are you?
-How is the weather?

Every time I call, they ask these questions. And not wanting to be rude, I engage them in conversation, and will often ask these very same questions back to them. Except the answer to question number two is always “Oh, sunny and in the 80s.” Usually, I don’t mind. But I had to call this week, and when my answer to that question is “cloudy and damn cold,” the very last thing I want to hear back is “Oh, here, it’s sunny and in the 80s.”

Someone should tell Company X to change the script.

King Tom

How not to cut a promo

So I was driving home last night flipping around on the radio, when I stopped on FM station run by the local media conglomerate (which I used to work for). Whatever song was playing finished up, and the DJ started promo-ing an upcoming college football game, and he said the following:

So Kent State is visiting the Buckeyes this Saturday. Let’s hope there aren’t any anti-war protests this weekend. Well, because, you know, it’s not thirty years ago.

Usually when you want to promote something, you say something funny or clever. That was neither.

I admit that I’m an obnixous Yankees fan. But there are times in Columbus, when listening to people talk about the local college football team that I feel uncomfortable.

King Tom

You know my name

Because my legal name ends in Jr., I’ve never been the only Tom in my family.

Now that I’m married, it’s even more complicated.

Both The Civee’s father and eldest brother share my first and middle names.

I was driving to a wedding this weekend with The Civee and her parents, when the topic of what to call me amidst all these other Toms came up.

Thomas?
No, I don’t like it.

Tommy?
I haven’t been called that one in a long time, and I don’t mind it, but it’s also what The Civee’s brother was called when he was younger.

But then, I said, “Well, some of my friends call me King Tom.”

After getting past the whole “why do they call you King Tom” bit, The Civee’s mother started to call me “King Tom” several times throughout the night.

Of course, each time she did so, the cutest little scowl would appear on The Civee’s face.

If this continues, much fun will be had at my wife’s expense.

King Tom

Ask a stupid question (II)

I’ve been back to work a week since my injury.

I still can’t walk without crutches. I’ve learned that whenever people who haven’t seen you on crutches see you, they ask two things:
a) Are you all right?
and
2) What happened?

In the week I’ve been back to work, I’ve answered the second question with the following:
-Fell off a treadmill.
-I was being stupid.
-I could tell you but I’d have to kill you.
-Rescuing orphans from a house fire.
-Damn steel cage match!
-Damn midgets!
-Jack Bauer shot my foot because he thought I was withholding information.

I’m kind of running out of answers to the question. Anyone have any ideas? Best answer gets a box of Pocky!

King Tom

The second stage is denial

At the end of the aught-five baseball season, the last thing I wanted the Yankees to do was sign Johnny Damon. I’ve since changed my mind, and conversations like the following (with a Red Sox fan) make the signing even better for me:

(in a discussion about the ’05 playoffs)

Red Sox Fan: The Yankees couldn’t even handle the Angels!
Me: They only lost that series becaues Bubba Crosby forgot how to play centerfield.
RSF: What makes you think he’s going to learn to play the field this year?
Me: He won’t be out in center this year.
RSF: Oh yeah? Who’d they get to roll out there? (serious question)
Me: Johnny Damon.
RSF: Oh. Yeah. sonofa…

King Tom

Things we said today

At today’s weekly lunch at Tommy’s Diner, the gang and I were talking about the rash of pop radio stations given one-syllable male names. The Ted in Columbus, the Bob in Cincinnati, and I’m sure there are more of them in other cities.

Anyway, these stations play a mix of pop music ranging from the 70s to today, but they have zero personality, hence the Ted/Bob/whatever naming scheme. Sometimes I do listen to the Ted in Columbus, and during the discussion, I said something to the effect of the following:

“Hey, if I’m flipping around and I hear the Safety Dance and Can’t Touch This back-to-back, I’m going to stop flipping.”

I didn’t think it was that weird a statement, but apparently everyone else did.

For those of you out there in Internet land- are there other stations similar to these in your area? With the naming scheme?

King Tom2 Comments