Imagine that Alex Rodriguez was running for president against Hillary Clinton and John McCain and Barack Obama, and then ask yourself this: How much would they have paid for the negative publicity he got over the last 18 days?
Okay, Buster. And I'm using your name, not just using the little kid nickname "Buster". As ridiculous as your proposed scenario is, I imagined this scenario. I asked myself the question, and myself answered, "What are you talking about? Why would they pay anything for negative publicity?" And I said to myself, "Myself, haven't you ever heard the expression, 'No publicity is bad publicity?'" And myself responded, "Yes, but I'm pretty sure that does not apply to presidential candidates. When you're running for president, negative publicity pretty much destroys your campaign." And I got angry and tried to erase myself's mind, Men In Black-style, but I couldn't, because myself is a part of me. So I decided to post this entry instead.
Ten million dollars? Twenty? Fifty million?
Again, I'd probably go with nothing.
Because for 18 days Rodriguez got hammered by everyone, everywhere. By our respected colleague Peter Gammons, who wondered forcefully if this sort of gauche hubris explained why Rodriguez hadn't yet played in the World Series.
First, Buster, you forgot "inexplicably" when you mentioned "respected colleague Peter Gammons". Second, "wondered forcefully"? You can't wonder something forcefully. That sounds like something Peter Gammons would say. I would use the phrase "bitched excessively". There, much better. Finally, "gauche hubris"? I suspect that you consulted a thesaurus here, because "tactless balls" just doesn't sound right, but is "gauche hubris" really any better?
A-Rod got hammered by print columnists, by Mike and Mike, by Mike and the Mad Dog, by Michael Kay in New York and Mike Felger in Boston and the Mad Dog in Lansing and Softy in Seattle. A-Rod got hammered from sea to shining sea, after word of his decision to opt out of his record-setting contract leaked out in the middle of Game 4 of the World Series -- an act for which his agent Scott Boras first blamed on the Yankees; then blamed on a mistake; and then, probably cajoled by
his All-Star client, finally blamed on himself, acknowledging what everybody in
the game thought anyway.
Oh, how cute, there are a lot of radio personalities named "Mike" or "Mad Dog". Apparently, "Softy" is the closest that the West Coast has to offer to those names. Also, check out "an act for which his agent Scott Boras first blamed on the Yankees" - this is positively Gammons-like in its excessive use of prepositions. If we re-arrange this sentence, we get: "Scott Boras first blamed for this act on the Yankees." Also, although this list has correct parallel structure, I don't see how the three parties that were blamed could be "Yankees", "a mistake", and "himself". Which one of these is not like the other? (Hint: the "mistake" must have been made by somebody.)
He (Boras) somehow managed to badly overplay the perfect hand.
Wait...I'm confused, Buster. What does poker have anything to do with Scott Boras? Can you explain what you mean? In the next paragraph, perhaps?
Boras held four aces, in a sense, and yet his client's contract will be somewhat lighter.
And Buster comes through! Thanks to the phrase "in a sense", I now understand that the whole "perfect hand" thing was a metaphor. Groundbreaking stuff, those poker metaphors. Don't believe I've ever seen one of those before. It's good to know that Gammons is not the only "respected" writer for ESPN.com who can't write.
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