An Open Letter to My Critics

As some of my readers know, I played minor league baseball for twelve years. I ripped the cartilage out of nearly all my favorite joints for less than minimum wage, but I made a go of it and no one can say I never tried. Now that I am inducted into the Central Minnesota Tri-County Baseball Hall of Fame, questions are being asked in public and I type this letter in response.

First, I never condoned Jack Moon’s methods. He was my teammate for three seasons and I was content knowing that he wouldn’t be using those methods on me. Jack threw the high and tight fastball. The old-timers call it chin music. The new guys call it too aggressive for a game as civilized as baseball. Jack believed that fear won games and he threw every pitch of his life with that thought in mind.

Jack “The Crippler” Moon, at the ambitious age of 28, hit the most batters in league history. We clocked Jack’s fastball at 115 MPH. Of course, it was not a well-funded league and we never had a regulation speed gun. At a practice, Short Stop and lead-off batter, Carlos Villa, sped his Camaro from right-center field up to, he says, 110 MPH, and Jack’s pitch got to home plate a bit ahead of the car. It wasn’t pure science, and the groundskeeper never forgave us, but that is how it went into the book.

Like I said, Jack and I were teammates. When there were brawls, and there were many of those, I took his side. But I never condoned his methods. In the end, he was too inaccurate to pitch in the Major Leagues. Jack Moon couldn’t throw straight but that sonofabitch could throw hard. Even if he wasn’t trying to hit you, he might hit you anyway. After his last suspension, he went back to working drywall. I suggest you all leave him alone.

Second, in all of my years playing semi-professional baseball, I never once took performance enhancing substances. Whiskey, marijuana, coffee, beer, and tobacco products were the only substances we took, and those do not enhance performance. Still, the right combination of those five drugs could give your team a God complex for the better part of a week. Any time you see a streak, three wins or more in a row, there is a good chance that a team has found its balance.

The last thing I want to clear up, and then I hope we can put these worries behind us— Carlos “The Thief” Villa, who stole second base like it was free for eight consecutive seasons, gave up his Camaro because no minor league ball player can afford a Camaro after the first payment. I believe Carlos, wherever he is now, would be pissed about rumors that he lost the car gambling on games when he was in the lineup.

Thank you for reading.