The Celibacy Posterchild
Joe Fan
Last Meals
From the Joe Fan Archives
August 15, 1999
From the Joe Fan Archives
August 15, 1999
August 15, 1999
We're in the Hall of Fame!
How much can we make?
The dream starts early, that Hall of Fame dream. Probably the first time you cross those white lines. Joe Fan remembers his first baseball glove better than he remembers his first love. It is all together possible they were one and the same. Joe Fan remembers his very first baseball practice for his pee-wee team. Before he went, his Uncle Ted played catch with him, Joe Fan missed every ball thrown his way. Joe Fan remembers the day he was moved from right field (baseball's gulag) to third base and that feeling he received from this rise in status. Hey, the dream was alive! It continued in little league, where Joe Fan played second base, pitched and, occasionally, strapped on the tools of ignorance. A young Johnny Bench perhaps? The dream started to end around the time Joe Fan reached pony league. They moved the bases further apart than his chubby little legs could negotiate in reasonable manner and the realization that he stunk sunk in. There were a few high points, like the time Joe Fan walked with the bases loaded to win a game. His only game-winning RBI of the season, it also was his only RBI of the season. It was clear that unless they opened a "Whiffle Ball" wing in the Hall of Fame, the only way he'd be in that mythic Cooperstown shrine would be with a purchased ticket or, maybe, as a male version of Morganna "The Kissing Bandit."
How much can we make?
What makes the Baseball Hall of Fame so special is its exclusivity. Unlike the Basketball Hall of Fame, where even the avid fan would be hard pressed to recognize half the people inducted each year, baseball rarely has more than two players a year. This makes the honor a truly special one for the inductees, which makes it more special for the baseball fan. This year, we had a bumper crop of three deserving players enshrined; the timeless strikeout/no-hit master Nolan Ryan, the left-handed hitting machine George Brett and the ultimate Mr. Lunch Pail, Robin Yount. They have joined the ranks of Ruth, Aaron, Mays and Gehrig. And, watching the induction ceremony, I am sure that they consider this the crowning achievement of their careers. The question that Joe Fan ponders is "Why, oh, why did Brett and Yount use this great honor to shill for a beer commercial?" Did they need the cash?
The Miller beer campaign (fresh off the disastrous"Dick" ads) is returning to those heady days of "Taste Great, Less Filling." In true Bubba and Butkus form, we see Brett and Yount gently chiding each other about MVP awards and Hall of Fame ballot percentages (98% for Brett to 78% for Yount) and discussing those choice Miller beer hops. Good Fun and Good Friends! I would like to know what the price was for these players to pimp out their greatest honor. Is there any athlete that can resist the easy money of Madison Avenue and say "Hey, I played my whole life for this honor and will not tarnish it for any amount."
Joe Fan is 98% sure the answer is no.
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