A friend of mine at work has all the makings of a pro sports star. He has those youthful, rugged good looks, a lanky frame and is the kind of guy every girl would love to take home to mom, or at least take home.
I didn’t know until recently that he actually was a baseball star in high school and had a promising career, until an injury to his arm sidelined him. Now, we all know I’m not very sporty, and my entire baseball career consisted of a stint on the intramural softball team in college where I famously went up to catch a flyball in left field with my eyes closed. The ball, captured in a photo for all time, is just popping out of the top of my glove.
Small wonder why I was never drafted by the majors. Any scout that day would have been rocket streams of Coke out of his nose during my epic fail as a right fielder.
That’s not to say that I was terrible in baseball. What I lacked in fielding I made up for in batting. I never struck out and almost always hit a home run at bat. Of course, I never actually made it home as I wasn’t blessed with any running skills. Sure, I could blame it on the sand and rubber field that Green River Community College had installed, but I’ve run on asphalt and hard packed dirt and I lumber along just the same, as if moving in slow motion.
So it was always triples for me, which earned me the clean up position in the lineup.
My career in baseball was never to be. As Sean and I talked last week, I told him this story of my dream of being a big leaguer. It was his dream, too, though I’m sure a far more realistic one than my own delusions of grandeur.
If the Seattle Mariners were to call me tomorrow, I would certainly go for it. I mean, I can’t really suck any more than the current players on the roster, and I could warm a bench with the best of them.
In fact, I could be the first Hall of Fame Designated Sitter.
Let’s review the facts here. As a Triple A ball player, you get something like $2,150 a month to play ball. That is not something I am willing to leave my cushy government job for. I make more with the state and I don’t have to stay in third class hotels and spend endless hours on the team bus with those who are far more sporty than I.
But if I was offered a major league Designated Sitter position, it would be hard to turn down.
The minimum starting salary for a pro ball player is $480,000. It doesn’t matter if you ever get up to the plate. You can sit on the bench all day long, chew lots of chaw, spit sunflower seed shells onto the dugout floor and pitch playing cards into your hat all day long and you still get a nice big paycheck.
I know that I can warm a bench better than anyone. I have a rear end made for warming benches. Given the skinny asses of some of these athletes, I could warm at least two spots at the same time, which as you can imagine, would be a welcomed skill in the dugout.
Other players would know that when they come back from their at-bat, their spot will be waiting for them, still warm, even on the coldest of Seattle days.
This could be a win-win situation all around. Say you’re at the bottom of the line-up. There is absolutely no chance you’re going to play that day, unless a sinkhole suddenly opens up in Safeco Field and swallows up half the team. Really, why do you need to even show up? The weather’s nice and you’ve been invited to play a foursome with some good friends.
What to do, what to do.
Call on the Designated Sitter. I can show up in your place and in your uniform. No one will even know the difference because you’re so unknown that even the manager can’t remember what you look like.
I’ll show up in the locker room, get dressed and do a few warm ups with the other players. They’re used to the farm club system, so a new face isn’t exactly something that even gets noticed.
As the game begins, I will take my rightful place in the dugout. I will be your Designated Sitter for the day while you go out and have a blast with your friends.
There’s no need to see the Mariners lose another game. You can be enjoying drinks at the 19th hole while I take to the field and do the walk of shame, alternately high-fiving and patting the butts of the opposing team as we head to the locker room in embarrassing defeat.
All you have to do is pay me a part of your salary. For just $150,000 I will be your Designated Sitter all season long. You get to keep the other $330,000 of your big league salary and not even feel a need to show up.
Imagine that, both of us get a lot of money for doing absolutely nothing. And because you’re a benchwarmer and I’m doing all the bench warming, you don’t even have to take the blame for another Mariners loss. You weren’t there. You didn’t even go to Safeco Field for warmups. Your Designated Sitter did all the work for you, including shouldering all the blame for another pointless season of heartbreaking and all too regular losses.
I think this is a perfect plan, one that I can certainly get behind. I think I’m being very unselfish here. I mean, I don’t even like baseball. Quite frankly, I’d rather be another block over warming the Seahawks’ bench. But there’s way too much competition for Designated Sitter positions over there these days. Oh, for the Tom Flores years, when no one wanted to be a Seahawk, not even a Designated Sitter like me.
In the Emerald City, sitting on the hot seat, waiting for the call,
– Robb