ALL STRIKES, NO BALLS

Ladies and gentleman, I want to thank all of you for attending this court of
public opinion today. My summation on behalf of my client will be brief. I
hope you'll indulge me with your patience, mainly because I'm nursing a
REALLY nasty hangover right now. Ouch. If you could all read a little more
quietly, I'd sure appreciate it. Thank you so much. You see, I was at the
SLO Blues Baseball game last night and got myself absolutely blotto on Pozo
Pale Ale.

At any rate, Im youre all aware that Blues games have become among the best
parties in town, with various "all-you-can-eat/all-you-can-drink" specials
that have at least half the crowd at any given game totally stinko by the
seventh-inning stretch, which in turn leads to plenty of spirited, creative,
and slightly slurred heckling. It's great fun, even if no one can remember
who won the next morning.

Who's responsible for this high-octane frivolity? The team's management, of
course. They know how to play up the cheap drinking as part of the Complete
Blues Baseball Experience. And that is why, ladies and gentleman, it should
strike you as more than a tad hypocritical for Blues owner Tim Golden and
manager Roy Howell to have kicked my client - a well-liked, talented Blues
player - off the team last week.

What was the deplorable deed demanding such dramatic, draconian action?
Brace yourselves: My client had smoked a joint.

That's it. A few drags on a doobie - not on the field, mind you. Not even in
the dugout. No, in the privacy of his home, the Valencia apartments in San
Luis Obispo. When Valencia's managers found this out, they ran shocked and
appalled to Golden, who says that by then The Great Pot Incident had become
known to everyone on the Blues team. My client was forthright. He admitted
he'd smoked pot in violation of Valencias rules. So Golden and Howell said,
"Yer outta here!"

Golden's explanation sounded about as coherent and logical as the blather
coming from the drunken fans. It was, he said, all about team image and
citizenship standards and whatnot, but you and I know that even the blindest
umpire can see past that noise. What he really means is he has to kiss up to
sponsors while wielding a double standard that encourages zealous,
vomit-inducing, and downright dangerous drinking while having zero tolerance
for smoking a bit of the weed.

Like all fair-minded people, I have zero tolerance for that sort of logic,
simply because Golden and company are the kind of people wholl take a pull
on their brewski, condemn pot smokers, and see no contradiction. "Pot's
illegal!" is their only argument, and a weak one at that.

Because so are a lot of things. Here in California, pot possession is a
misdemeanor, just like littering and walking that mangy pooch of yours
without a leash. If that's the standard we must adhere to, then all the
Blues will soon have the blues, because according to Golden's reasoning
they'll all have to be tossed off the team soon as any of their minor
infractions are discovered. But that wont happen because misdemeanors like
these aren't deserving of such idiotic action. I seriously doubt that Mr.
Golden will tell us indignantly that "Jaywalkings illegal!" as he bids
players adieu for crossing the streets willy-nilly without respect for the
law. He'd be hooted from the dugout. Deservedly.

I have here a copy of the contract my client signed upon joining the Blues.
You will note there is nothing in it about pot smoking, so clearly my client
is not in violation of any prior contractual agreement. Please note also
that no major league sport allows for players to be suspended or banned for
marijuana usage. Not the NFL, the NBA, or major league baseball. Why, if my
client had been playing for the Yankees instead of the Blues, I wouldn't be
wasting a lovely summer day writing this and you wouldn't have to read it
because we'd all be at the game drinking beer and watching my client pop a
high one over the right fielder's head.

But no. Here we are trudging through Golden's silly standard of selective
conduct. This is unfair, unjust, and uncalled for. A Blues player is gone
because Mr. Golden lacks both good sense and a strong spine. This picayune
incident will follow my client forever, dumped from the Blues because of
"drug usage" that is so minor that no one in the big leagues would give a
hat full of spit about it.

This is lame, ladies and gentlemen, pure and simple, a travesty of a tempest
in a teapot, a gram of nonsense so smidgenly and unworthy of our ire that it
behooves us indubitably to stop listening to me any further and simply judge
my client guilty of nothing more than having the wrong baseball manager at
the wrong time.

I hope you will. Because I know you are intelligent, sensible, right-minded
people who won't fall for Mr. Golden's laughable attempt at public relations
at the expense of my client's career. And because this headache is really
killing me and I've gotta get me a Bloody Mary before my brain box cracks
open. Or a quick toke. Anybody got a joint? No? Ah, well. Thank you for your
kind indulgences anyway. And good night.