Sunday Morning Coffee (on Monday) – December 25, 2017 The Art of an Endorsement

December 25, 2017 Observations, Politics One Comment

Yessiree Mr. President, you had a great first year. In fact it probably was the greatest year in the history of years. We know that because you keep reminding us of it.

It started with the largest crowd ever to see a Presidential inauguration. Even though thousands of people were dressed as empty spaces, you still told us it was the greatest crowd ever.

And of course the appointment of Justice Gorsuch carried your thin presidential CV for many months because after that, and with must-repeal Obamacare still breathing, the cupboard was bare.

But now Mr. President, jingle bells are indeed in order for your leadership, foresight and ingenuity in the face of adversity, those pesky Dems, in producing the tax bill. We know it’s going to be great for America because you keep telling us that.

And today we have reached your first Christmas in office. Incredible. Who would have thunk it? You plan on seven more; polling tells us probably three. I’m not sure if Ivanka and Jared mentioned it or not, but today is the longest day of the year for the Jews. There’s nothing to do. We can only listen to Feliz Navidad a couple of hundred times before it begins to grate. Catchy tune that it is, we still have no idea what it means. This morning the gyms are closed and ironically enough so are the bagel shops. The Knicks will provide a couple of hours of television diversion, we still pray Kristaps Porzingis turns out to be more Willis Reed than Nate Bowman, and then we sit and wait for the Chinese restaurants to open. Except in Alabama. There are no decent Jewish-style Chinese restaurants here.

However, the good news for the Birmingham synagogue congregations of Temple Emanu-el and Beth-El is we’re pretty busy this holiday season scouring the state for the “Jew attorney” that the lovely Kayla Moore said she and her husband Roy once employed. There’s been no sign of the scoundrel and in a community that has its fair share of pro-rata Jewish lawyers, there’s no one willing to admit they’re it either. Fortunately for us, with OJ out of jail, he sent word that he would help as soon as he finds the real killer.

But now, with the tax bill signed and fatter paychecks forthcoming, I need your help. I need your endorsement to get everyone, Jew and goyim, to divert for five minutes and get online to purchase the few remaining copies of ‘Big League Dream.’ I know it’s risky, your endorsement didn’t work much magic for Luther Strange or Roy Moore, but you are more author than politician so I’ll take my chances.

Actually, the book has already been a huge hit for the holiday season. Arbor Mountain Press, the publisher, originally printed 100 copies and as chimney’s around the world ready for company today, there are only 93 remaining. Thanks again Dad, brothers Mike and Ken and sons Jason and Scott.

BLD joins Jason and Scott at this year’s World Series. The Art of the Deal didn’t.

And of course Andi, who bought two, one of which she uses to keep the fireplace alive on sub-freezing Dixie mornings like today. In fact, I think it’s the Mike Lavalliere chapter that I hear kindling. Or as Judge Moore said, “It will be a cold day in ‘Bammer when a Democrat can beat me.”

Mr. President, I know you have been busy leading us back to greatness so I can pardon you for not being familiar with ‘Big League Dream.’ It’s not ‘The Art of the Deal’ but of course nothing ever will be. I am not you, nor of course is anyone else. You wouldn’t hesitate to remind us of that. But BLD is perfect for the baseball fan of the 1950s, 60s and 70s and it won’t cost very much at all proportionate to the big, gigantic raises you tell us we will get in our February paychecks. The hardcover is discounted to $14.95 and the paperback is $9.95. I know President Obama made shitty trade deals, because you keep telling us that, but now with all the new money that will flow into the economy to offset that, certainly we can sell the remaining copies, can’t we?

‘Big League Dream’ is perfect, sir, to give as a gift to that uncle or cousin who has always been a pain in the ass but you need to do something for them anyway. A great gift for someone like Jeff Sessions for his birthday, which happened to be yesterday. It’s perfect tit for tat. Relax Mr. President, tit for tat is just an expression, but remember if you would have left ol’ Jeff in Alabama to begin with, Doug Jones wouldn’t be signing a three-year DC lease next month.

And we’ve gotten some really good reviews, just like you have on Fox. The New York Post, you’re familiar with their Page Six I assume, called BLD a “home run”, something they haven’t said about your first year. We’ve gotten 13 five-star reviews on Amazon for a composite rating of 4.9 out of five. ‘Art of the Deal’ is rated 4.6. Sorry about that. Yankees co-owner Hank Steinbrenner said, “I love the passion and enthusiam that Roy Berger brings to Big League Dream.” He didn’t say a damn thing about my writing, only my passion and enthusiam. The only disappointment, and something you nailed over a year ago, was the failing New York Times Book Review from last Sunday selected the ten best books of 2017 and ‘Big League Dream’ wasn’t on it. Fake news indeed, Mr. President. You are right again. Do you ever get tired of being right or winning? I didn’t think so.

Actually that throwback baseball fan will enjoy some of the memories and get a laugh or two, I hope. Today’s fan will enjoy the plight of hacks like me who try, painfully and unsuccessfully, to capture a skill we never had. And if you want a touching father-son story somewhere between Field of Dreams and you tossing a ball on the South Lawn with Baron, my experience with my sons in ‘Big League Dream’ actually reduced me to tears. Much the same way Don Jr. and Eric felt when you pulled them out of Little League and tried to start your own league but nobody else wanted to play with them despite the 14k bats you promised the kids.

Bucky Dent, remember him, wrote a great foreword to the book. Yes he is a great, great man and probably the only person who would get less votes than you in Massachusetts.

Bucky Dent, the 1978 World Series MVP, relaxes with presumably his favorite book

The Mets Ron Swoboda is featured and he’s remorseful about his relationship with legendary Gil Hodges but still despises Richard Nixon. Kent Tekulve recalls how guarding Dave Cowens in a high school basketball game convinced him baseball was going to be his sport and Chris Chambliss has one regret about the 1976 night he put the Yankees back in the World Series after 12 years. We’ll find out why Ole Miss All-American Jake Gibbs wanted to be a back-up catcher for the Yankees instead of the quarterback of the Cleveland Browns but, either way, he stood for the national anthem. How Steve Lyons became ‘Psycho’, something perhaps you can identify with. And hey, you’ll get a real kick out of the Fritz Peterson chapter. Fritz is really glad Access Hollywood wasn’t around when he and teammate Mike Kechich ‘traded’ wives after an evening at a Jersey diner.

So, why should anyone buy ‘Big League Dream’ with the holidays over? Great question Mr. President. One that even Kellyanne can spin in a quasi-contentious manner. It’s pretty simple. What happens when you are looking for that very special gift to give to Dr. Ben on MLK day? Politically sensitive guy that you are, ‘Big League Dream’ would be perfect. It has a chapter on Mudcat Grant and another on Maury Wills, who were instrumental in helping smash baseball’s color barrier. In fact Wills, all five-feet eleven inches of him, was the original ‘little rocket man’ when he stole over a hundred bases in 1962. Looking for a Purim gift for Bernie or a gag gift for Cubs fan Hillary on President’s Day? Buy it now and re-gift it later. Don’t forget that July 30 is International Friendship Day, right in the middle of the baseball season and what could be better for your new BFF Vladimir to thank him for all his help last November? Doesn’t he have the ideal build of a second baseman? Putey needs to know that baseball is our national pastime, not commissioning special prosecutors. ‘Big League Dream’ is also perfect for Father’s Day and that baseball fan who remembers the romantic days of the sport much like we all yearn for Camelot or Reagan again.

So please Mr. President help me give all Sunday Morning Coffee (on Monday) readers the best gift of the year. Don’t build a wall between baseball fans and ‘Big League Dream’ sales. In fact, let’s tear down that wall. Give it a shout-out. The ten or fifteen bucks is a mere bag of shells for the thousands we all will save compliments of your new tax code. Even Democrats, who claim the bill is nothing but a sham, can buy a book. If you are one of the handful who already purchased BLD go ahead and grab another one, you never know when you need that last minute useless gift. And if somehow we sell out the remaining allotment then I promise never to mention ‘Big League Dream’ again. Tell me that’s not worth a sawbuck and a half to you!

Mr. President, once the bored Jewish folks get done buying today at or on Amazon at Big League Dream, we can open it up for all your goyisha friends. I’d love you to spread the word this weekend among the boys in the clubhouse at Mar-a-Lago that, “This book is great. Believe me. Trust me. It’s fantastic. It’s far from a disaster. Roy Berger is a great guy. Believe me. Trust me.” Your endorsement should get this sold out quicker than Mooch’s West Wing access pass was valid.

Jingle Bells, Feliz Navidad, Shalom and for all.

One Comment

  • Lew Matusow says:

    Shameful. Just shameful self promotion, RB. Only you could work in a pitch for MLD with a blog on taxes, what Jews (including Moore’s attorney) do on Christmas (we go to movies, of course) and the Alabama election.

    Just shameful.

    And it worked.

    I finally broke down (I think it was the pic of one of my favs, Bucky Dent with the book), opened the piggy bank and joined the ranks of dozens who can proudly say, “I own Major League Dream.”

    A belated Happy Chanukah.

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