THIS BUD’S FOR FEHR
by Chris Joseph
Author’s note: What follows may or may not have been an actual conversation between two noted "adversaries," baseball commissioner Walter "Bud" Selig and players association chief Donald "Nothing to" Fehr, as they left Capitol Hill following their recent testimony about steroids before the House Oversight and Government Reform Committee...
"Great job, Don!" You really snowed those congressmen. You were flinging more crap in there than a stable boy at the Kentucky Derby...Give me a high-five."
"Ouch! Jeez, Bud. You just about dislocated my shoulder. Are you on steroids or something?"
(The two break out in hearty laughter)
"How about that Christopher Shays goofball, Don?." He kept referring to Rafael Palmeiro as ‘Mr. Palmeiri,’ and he called the 1919 Black Sox scandal the ‘Black Hawks’ scandal."
"Man, what a bunch of idiots. They know less about baseball than they do about running the country. They probably think Miguel Tejada is a new menu item at Taco Bell."
"Yeah, and that Coco Crisp is the name of a kids’ breakfast cereal."
(More hearty laughter and slaps on the back)
"The thing that kills me, Bud, is that these clowns actually think we give a rat’s patuti about cleaning up the sport. My players and your owners are making more money than God and Bill Gates...well, maybe not Bill Gates. And I hear that you’re getting a new gazillion dollar contract extension. Now maybe you can afford to stop buying your suits at Al’s House of Burlap."
"I don’t know, Don. Sometimes, in my weak moments, I think this steroid thing is getting out of hand. Lately I’ve been harking back to the good days. Look at Babe Ruth. He set a home run record and the only substances he took were hot dogs and beer. Now the new home run king, Barry Bonds, has a head the size of a dirigible."
"Bud, don’t be going soft on me now. We both knew this stuff was going on back in the ‘90s and we looked the other way. And who says the Babe’s record wasn’t chemically aided? Have you ever read the ingredients label on a pack of hot dogs?"
"It’s just that everybody is starting to associate my name with steroids. I don’t want that to be my legacy. I’d rather be remembered for bringing something cool to the game, like those zoom-in camera shots of players scratching themselves."
"Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve implemented a lot of great things during your tenure, like gratuitous spitting and team mascots that look like Muppets on HGH."
"Don, those things were around long before I became commissioner."
"Ok, so you’ve accomplished next to nothing. It’s not so bad. Did I mention that the owners and players are getting richer faster than you can say, ‘shot in the butt’?"
"I guess you’re right."
"Of course I’m right...Here’s something to cheer you up. It’s a little song I wrote for my players, to the tune of ‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game.’
Take me out to the druggist
Take me out to the lab
Buy me some steroids and HGH
My pecs are too small and I stink at the plate
If I flunk the test I’ll deny it
It’s just some tainted B-12
Then it’s one...two...three more home runs
And millions of bucks for myself
"So, what do you think?"
"Don, as a songwriter, you’d make a great union chief. You should hang on to your day job."
"No problem there. Where else can I get to make this kind of money without having to stick a needle in my butt?"
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