The SoapBoxers

Once again, Albert Pujols is front and center in the world of baseball.  As I write this, we’re closing in on the deadline Albert set for striking a deal.  It seems increasingly unlikely that Pujols will sign a deal prior to the deadline – setting the stage for his possible departure from St. Louis.  While there are a lot of teams that would love to have Pujols in their lineup, are there any willing and able to pony up $30 million per year?  The Yankees and Red Sox have a franchise 1B locked up, and those are usually the two teams with the most cash.

Of course, Pujols played third base earlier in his career.  The Yankees would play him at 3B, move A-Rod back to SS, and turn their aging SS into a utility player.  (I kid, John, I kid.)

Speaking of Yankees … CC Sabathia showed up at camp considerably lighter.  That’s a relative concept for a guy who lugs around 300 pounds on his 6’7″ frame, but he claims to be down 25 pounds from last year.  Based on the photos, I can believe it.  The one concern I always had with CC was his weight.  I always thought that it would eventually cause him to wear down at the end of the year.  It hasn’t happened yet – with Sabathia winning at least 17 games, pitching at least 230 innings, and posting an ERA of 3.37 or better in each of the past 4 seasons – and the weight loss might make him even more durable.  With 157 wins on his resume at age 30, Sabathia remains a solid candidate to be come the next 300 game winner – especially if he can maximize his wins the next few years, before the Yankee core declines too much.  There’s also the possibility that Sabathia could opt out of his deal, but I don’t see that happening.

Off the field …

On Tuesday, President Barack Obama recognized former Cardinal Stan “The Man” Musial with the presidential Medal of Freedom, the nation’s highest civilian honor.  The greatest Cardinal of them all was a 24 time All-Star (note that there were two All Star games each year between 1959 and 1962, with one game benefitting the players’ pension fund).

The ownership of the New York Mets is in flux.  The owners are looking into the possibility of selling a 25% share of the team.  The owners are being sued by Irving Picard (no relation to Jean-Luc), the trustee for victims of Bernie Madoff.  Picard alleges that team ownership withdrew large amounts of false profits from their accounts with Madoff, and should have know that fraud was occurring.  This is the latest in a recent string of off-field issue affecting teams.  The McCourt divorce is still casting uncertainly on the future of the Dodgers.

Spring Training has begun, meaning that winter is officially over.  This means that any subsequent snowfalls will be in violation of federal law.

My picks for the World Series?  As much as I’d like to pick the Rockies, any team with Cole Hamels as their #4 starter  is going to make some noise – so I pick the Phillies from the NL.  In the AL, I’ll give the nod to the Red Sox, who added an extremely good player in Adrian Gonzalez.  My player to watch this season is Homer Bailey.  Although many have already given up on him as a bust, the kid won’t turn 25 until May.  I think he has enough experience under his belt to put together a breakout season in 2011.

Wednesday is the deadline Albert Pujols has set for negotiating a new deal with the St. Louis Cardinals.  If the sides are unable to reach a deal by then, it will have to wait until the end of the season – and Pujols might opt to become a free agent.

Last year, I posted a May Fools Day article claiming that Pujols signed a contract extension with the Cardinals.  Obviously, Pujols’s demand were slightly exaggerated (the St. Louis Arch is not on the table), but not by much.  The parameters that have been kicked around are 10 years at $30 million per year.  I’m not going to get into a debate about whether athletes are overpaid, but instead look at the issues surrounding this particular deal.

You might think the biggest problem is the money.  Sure, $30 million per year is some serious cash, but it’s been fairly apparent for a number of years that Pujols would ask for this kind of money.  He has established himself as one of the best – if not THE best – players in the game, and Alex Rodriguez has set the market for the über-elite at $25-$30 million per year.  It certainly wouldn’t surprise me to see the Cardinals sign him to a deal paying $30 million per year.

The real sticking point is the length of the deal.  Pujols wants a ten year deal.  When the deal expires at the end of the 2020 season, Pujols would be nearly 41 years old.  That’s not old in human terms, but it is ancient for a baseball players.  As you look down the rosters of MLB teams, you’re only going to encounter a few guys on the downside of 40.  Even the players who are still around at 40 have seen their skills diminish greatly – an effect of the aging process.  Pujols plays first base, which isn’t as prone to dramatic drop-offs as middle infielders or catchers – but the odds of a 40 year old Pujols making a run at the MVP aren’t likely.

What this boils down to is that the 2011 version of Pujols at $30 million might make a lot of sense, but paying $30 million for Pujols in 2020 – even after accounting for fact that inflation will likely erode the value of that salary – might not.

So, then, why don’t the Cardinals simply sign him to the 10 year deal and then cut him when his skills erode?  Because baseball contracts are guaranteed.  Once the player signs a deal, he’s going to get the money – unless he opts to retire.  You can’t simply wash your hands of the deal after a few years, a la the NFL.

So, then, what’s the answer?  I personally think that vesting options are the way to go.  Make maybe 6 years of the deal guaranteed.  After that point, if Pujols reaches certain levels of performance, an option for the next year is automatically triggered.  This protects the Cardinals from a situation where Pujols has declined to the point of being a platoon player, while at the same time getting Pujols maximum value if he stays healthy and productive.

Many observers have said that Pujols is worth more to the Cardinals than he is to any other team, due to the fact that he is such a huge fan favorite in St. Louis.  I have always agreed with this sentiment.  However, a recent suggestion has made me re-think this.  The suggestion was that the Cubs – who have 1B Carlos Peña on a  1 year contract – might make a run at Pujols.  This move would strengthen the Cubs at the same time it weakened their hated rivals – and would turn the rivalry even more bitter.

One interesting, yet overlooked issue … the Cardinals could opt to offer Pujols arbitration at the end of the year.  In fact, they would need to in order to receive compensation for losing him as a free agent.  If the Cardinals offer and an Pujols accepts, it would set the stage for an extremely interesting arbitration hearing.

On Tuesday, I mentioned the plight of fans who were left without seats to the Super Bowl after temporary seating was not deemed safe in time for the game.  The fans were given the option of standing in standing-room-only sections or watching the game from TVs within the stadium.  Hardly the experience they expected when they paid a small fortune to buy tickets from scalpers and more money for airfare, lodging, and meals.

Almost immediately, the NFL said they would give $2400 refunds to the fans.  That’s three times the face value, but face value means very little when it comes to the actual cost of Super Bowl tickets.  Certainly a nice chunk of change, but the fans still wasted vacation time and the cost of the trip for a pretty lousy experience.

On Monday, the NFL increased the offer by including tickets to next year’s Super Bowl.  The tickets would be transferable, meaning that they could be sold.  Definitely a better offer.

On Tuesday, the NFL added an additional options.  The fans could choose to receive tickets to any future Super Bowl, plus airfare and accomodations.  The fans could wait until after the conference titles games to decide whether or not to attend – meaning that they would know whether or not their team would be in the game.  Fans taking this option would not get the $2400 cash (since they are getting airfare and accomodations), nor would the tickets be transferable.  I assume that if the original ticketholder died while waiting for their team to reach the Super Bowl, the experience would be transferrable to an heir – but I’m not sure the NFL has had the time to think through these types of scenarios yet.

I’m happy with that offer.  Presumably, these fans would get decent seats to the future game (to avoid negative publicity) and covering the cost of airfare and lodging would seem to offset costs to attend this year’s game.  If you’re a Packers or Steelers fan who really wanted a seat to this year’s Super Bowl, it’s not going to completely fix that problem – but what would?  Some things are priceless, and you can’t throw money at them to fix it.

While the league and the Cowboys certainly have some blame, the winter storm that smacked much of the country was a very large factor in wreaking havoc on the preparation for the Super Bowl.  As the proverb goes, “Man plans.  God laughs.”   (Note: next year’s game will be in balmy Indianapolis.)

Today, a lawsuit was filed against the league and the Cowboys (who hosted the game)  claiming breach of contract, deceptive sales practices, and fraud.  I’ll conceded that there was a breach of contract and even the possibility of deceptive sales practices – but outright fraud?  Does anyone actually believe the NFL intended to defraud these people?  I sincerely believe that the NFL would have loved for the temporary seating to be deemed safe and to have butts in those seats.

I suspect that the league may set a deadline for accepting its offer and make fans sign a release that prevents them from suing for further damages.  Fans who join the lawsuit might end up with more money … or they might lose the lawsuit and get nothing.  I’m certainly no legal scholar, but it appears that the NFL has made a good faith effort to rectify the wrong.  Will Lady Justice see the fans as victims … or as gold diggers?

Yesterday, I mentioned that I will be seeking a publisher for Mountains, Meadows, and Chasms, my collection of short stories.  While the market for short stories is not nearly as large as it was a generation or two ago, I believe that the current focus on bite-sized nuggets of information (Twitter, for example) may have a spillover effect into the literary world.

Today, I’m going to take you down the road to publication – a road that I am still navigating myself.

Write – sounds, simple, doesn’t it?  You can’t have something published unless you first write it.  It can be hard to get into the habit of writing, though.  My first taste of writing glory came when I was picked to attend a writer’s conference in 6th grade.  I still wonder if I was picked because I was the only boy who expressed interest … but I enjoyed the experience.  I wrote stories off and on until I graduated college, and then quite abruptly quit writing fiction for ten years.  I never intended to stop writing – it just happened.

Ego – You need a bit of an ego to write fiction.  You’re making up stuff out of thin air and expecting people to be interested in it.  This is different from non-fiction, where you’re adding to an existing information base (and an accompanying reader base).  This was a bit difficult for me, as I’m really not an ego-driven person in real life (or, at least, I think I am not).  I got around this by creating the persona of Kosmo.  Kosmo can have his own personality and ego, and I can check the ego and the door when I drop back into real life.

Editing -Without a doubt, my least favorite aspect of the writing process is editing.  When I was preparing the initial version of Mountains, Meadows, and Chasms for entry into the Iowa Short Fiction Awards contest, I was editing those stories for the third time.  First, I edited them for publication on The Soap Boxers.  When I prepared them for publication as eBook in the Hyrax Publications store, I edited them again.  While I enjoy reading my own stories, the thought of editing them yet a third time was not my idea of a fun time.  However, a few trips to Pizza Hut with my binder in tow helped make the process less painful.

Culling – This is an advanced form of editing, and most applicable to short story writers.  Since my resurgence as a fiction writer began in the spring of 2009, I have written 92 pieces of short fiction.  It would be tempting to cram all of them into a book in order to pad the length.  However, some of them just aren’t good fits.  The first cuts were easy – pieces like Manny Ramirez Signs With the Tigers were fun to write, but they were satire and not typical fiction stories.  I love Ferdinand the Turtle (especially part 2, Meeting Bob), but the couple of children’s stories didn’t fit in well with the others. Finally, I cut stories that just weren’t very good.  I originally started writing short stories as a way to refine my technique before beginning work on a novel, so while some early stories like Release Point are fairly good, there are also some stinkers like Puzzled (I really thought this idea would turn into a good story, but it didn’t).

Finding a publisher – There are three ways to get your work published.  Martin Kelly already walked us through the self-publishing route, and I’m not going to reinvent the wheel.  The second route is taking your work directly to the publishers.  However, some publishers don’t take direct submissions, preferring to work through literary agents.  Obviously, the third route is to use a literary agents.  Literary agents are typically paid a commission based on a percentage of your royalties.  This means that you don’t need to pay the agent up front.  Naturally, this means that the agents are selective, since they don’t want to waste their time peddling crap.  I’ve only been seeking an agent for a few days, so I’m not an expert at this point.  However, I did stumble across Editors and Preditors.  I can’t vouch for the accuracy of the information on the site, but the gist of the site is to let writers know which people are legit and which ones are not.

remember that ego you stroked a bit earlier?  You’ll need to trim it down a bit when you’re searching for a publisher or editor.  Odds are good that you’ll receive several rejections before getting accepted.  Good luck!

My web consulting business, Sparks by Kosmo, is off to a solid start, buoyed by reviews on The Digerati Life and Out of Debt Again.  It’s throwing some chunks of revenue my way without consuming a huge amount of time.  That’s a win.  In celebration, I’ve launched a super-secret fiction coaching academy that will kick off with the first class in March.  The first class is already full, but I’ll be advertising spots in subsequent classes at a later time.

I’m going to make an attempt to push Mountains, Meadows, and Chasms into the world of literature.  The compiled edition of stories is now 80,000+ words – featuring more than 70 of your favorite stories (I’ve cut out some of the chaff).  I’m looking for a literary agent – I’ll keep you up to speed on things.

My baseball card book has been getting a bit of traction, and we’ll be ramping up publicity a bit in the coming months, including a media appearance.  ESPN?  Er, well, no.

I had a pretty lousy Super Bowl Sunday.  In my early years, I was a Bears fan.  In my early teens, I became a Vikings fan.  For the past two years, I’ve have been Favrecotting the NFL until my least favorite player (any guesses who he is?) resigns.  During that entire span of time – a quarter of a century – I have hated the Green Bay Packers.  Imagine my disgust when they won.  To make the spectacle even worse, the Fox “dream team” broadcasting the game was Joe Buck, Troy Aikman, and the stupid robot (a/k/a/ nepotism, pretty boy former QB, and stupid robot).  Excuse me while I make my way to the vomitorium.

Four hundred fans with tickets to the game were left out in the cold when temporary seating could not be deemed safe prior to the game.  After being herded like cattle while a decision about their fate was made, they were eventually given the option of watching from standing room only areas or viewing on TVs within the stadium.  The fans will be given triple refunds (triple the face value, not triple what they paid to scalpers) and tickets to next year’s Super Bowl … but watching a Lions – Brown Super Bowl next year probably wouldn’t be as much fun to a Packers or Steelers fan as watching this game would have been – not to mention the expenses they incurred for travel and lodging to attend an event that they really didn’t “attend”.

The NFL announced the 2011 Hall of Fame class.  While all of the inductees are deserving, the complaint is that a lot of deserving players are not getting in.  Indeed, you could make a case for all fifteen of this year’s finalists.  However, no matter how great they are, only five of them were ging to be inducted, per the rules.  In other words, if the all time best quarterback, running back, receiver, linebacker, defensive end, and defensive back all retired at the same time, it would be an absolute certainty that one of them would not be a first ballot hall of famer.  Contrast this to baseball, where a writer can list as many players as they wish – the only issue is whether they are named on 75% of the ballots.

Longtime Texas Ranger Michael Young is on the trading block.  In recent years, the Rangers have bounced Young around the infield like a ping pong ball as they wedge other players (Elvis Andrus, Adrian Beltre) into the lineup.  Now they want Young to play DH.  One of the teams reportedly interested in Young – and his $16 million salary – are my Colorado Rockies.  Young slumped in the second half of 2010, and is in his mid 30s … but if he can put up number similar to what he had a few years back, he’d be an interesting guy to have in the lineup.

LeBron’s former team, the Cleveland Cavaliers, recently lost their 25th consecutive game.  That’s very impressive to me.  Regardless of how bad a team is, you’d think at some point they’d have a night where luck went their way and every close shot went in.

Becky did a double take when she saw the flowers.

As she slid into her chair, she turned to her co-worker in an effort to quench her curiosity.  “Someone sent flowers … to Ken?”

Cheryl giggled before responding.  “Well, sort of.  A bunch of us chipped in to pay for the flowers.”

Becky furrowed her brow in an attempt to make sense of this.

“It’s a prank,” Cheryl explained.  “They’re from a secret admirer.”

Becky thought that the joke was a bit sophomoric, but faked a convincing laugh in an attempt to fit in.  Ken – the socially awkward computer geek – was probably the only person who felt less at ease in the group than Becky.  The girls on her team struck her as a bit mean spirited, but Becky knew very few people in this new town, so she tried to stay on their good side.  Maybe they were good people once you got to know them.

When Ken returned to his desk, it was easy to read the confusion in his face – a look that only intensified when he read the card.  After a moment, he appeared to shake off the confusion and return to work.  As Becky glanced around, she could see a few of the girls stifling giggles.

A half hour later, Becky found herself in need of Ken’s assistance.  She was tempted to simply ignore the flowers, but quickly realize that this would look suspicious.

“Nice flowers, Ken.  Who sent them?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted.  “The card says they are from a secret admirer.  Me, an admirer?  Yeah, right.”  He chuckled and then turned his focus back to work.  “What can I help you with?”

“I’m not getting the output I expected,” she explained, as she spread some printouts on his desk.  “See, I would expect this to be -”

“Yes, yes, I see the problem.”  A few minutes later, he had fixed the problem, and Becky was able to continue with her work.  Such a nice guy.  It was too bad he wasn’t her type.

When Becky came into the office on Friday morning, she knew that something was being planned.  Cheryl, Lindsey, and Jessica were gathered at Cheryl’s desk, whispering conspiratorially.

“We’re going to out tonight.  You want to come along?”

“Sure,” Becky replied.  A night out with the girls was surely better than staring at the four walls in her apartment.  “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to spy on Ken and his secret admirer,” said Jessica.

“But I thought the secret admirer isn’t real?”

“She isn’t,” replied Lindsey, “but Ken doesn’t know that.”

“He got a second note yesterday,” added Cheryl.  “His admirer made dinner reservations and asked him to join her.  We reserved a table with a good view of his – so that we can have a good laugh watching him wait for his admirer to appear.”

“But how do you know he’ll show up?”

“Becky, girl, this is Ken we’re talking about.  He doesn’t exactly have the girls beating down his door.  If he thinks a girl is interested in him, he’ll be there.”

Ken showed up at 6:45 – a full fifteen minutes before the scheduled meeting time.  From their perch on the upper level of the restaurant, the girls had a great view of Ken’s table on the lower level.  By 7:10, he began to fidget a bit, and by 7:20 the face that had been so hopeful when he entered the restaurant now showed signs of disappointment.

Becky decided that she had seen enough.  She grabbed her purse and excused herself, saying that she needed to freshen up.  The other three girls panicked when she made a beeline for Ken’s table – knowing that she was going to rat them out.

Ken looked up as she approached.  “Hi, Becky.  What are you doing here?”

Becky started to tell Ken that he was the victim of a cruel prank, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.  Instead, she took a seat across the table from him.

“Sorry I’m late.  I hope I didn’t keep you waiting – I’m your secret admirer.”

Many of you will be snowbound as you read this, a result of the latest storm of the year decade century millenium.  A monster lizard, some have called it.  Many of you are handling the situation in stride, but some of you are going a bit crazy.

Whenever I have the misfortune of needing to go to the grocery store on the day before a big storm, the place is always packed with people gearing up.  I can understand making sure you have some staples on hand, but there’s a point where prudent preparation gives way to insanity.

This is most apparent on the toilet paper front.  I haven’t witnessed this myself, but anecdotal evidence points to people stocking up on the Charmin in advance of a big storm.  Seriously?  Do you people not have an adequate supply on hand in general (remind me not to be your houseguest)?  Or does the storm make people need to go to the bathroom more?  OK, there’s a bit of logic in the bathroom being used more, since the whole family is stuck at home … but still, you don’t need to buy a six week supply to wait out the storm.

While it’s prudent to make sure that some of the food you have on hand doesn’t require cooking (lest you lose power), again, there is a practical limit that comes into play.  For starters, don’t you already have some food that would suffice in an emergency?  I could certainly get by for a few days eating peanut butter sandwiches, Pop Tarts, and dry cereal.  Not exactly fine cuisine, but good enough in a pinch.  In my neighborhood, the risk of power outages is minimized by the fact that the power lines are buried – meaning that a main line need to go down in order for us to be affected.  You know the lines I’m talking about – the ones the power companies generally fix in a matter of hours.

When you get back on the road, drive safely.  This means not driving 80 mph in the midst of a snow storm … but it also means not driving 15 mph in flurries on the interstate.

It seems to me that a lot of people overestimate the impact of these storms.  While it’s true that some rural areas can get cut off for a week or more, the reality is that for people living in cities, this isn’t common (especially in the midwest, where I live).  Weather will be bad for a day or two, and then things will pretty much return to normal.  This is modern day America, with cell phones and 4 wheel drives – and reasonably well maintained roads.

I hope everyone stays safe during the storm, and that things are quickly back to normal.  Just breathe deeply and don’t panic.  And for you goofballs who enjoy the white stuff, enjoy it while you can – spring is just around the corner.

I live in Iowa City, and the big news for about a week has been the medical problems faced by thirteen members of the Hawkeye football program.  The players were hospitalized with rhabdomyolysis, a disorder that is characterized by dark colored urine and can cause kidney problems in extreme cases (public service announcement – if your urine turns a strange color, see a doctor).  Not only were the players affected physically, but they were also taken out of the classroom for a week (after all, these student-athletes are expected to learn as well as play).

Blame has been cast in a number of directions.  Some suggested that the players had been taking drugs.  A parent of one of the affected players told the media that drug tests had been administered to the players and had come back negative.  Some suggested that a weekend after drinking may have exacerbated the effects of the workout.  Others have suggested that the strength and conditioning program itself is at fault (although some former players were quick to come to the defense of the staff).

The university announced that they will investigate the cause and report to the Board of Regents (which oversees the public universities in Iowa) within 90 days.  While I applaud this necessary step, I do wonder if it goes far enough.  As well intentioned as the investigation may be, there might be an inclination to absolve the university of any blame.

The way we should view this incident is as an opportunity to prevent future problems.  Some players have said that while the workouts were grueling, similar workouts had been done in previous years with no adverse affects.  While that may be true, the fact of the matter is that this year there were some extreme adverse effects.  If it were one or two players, I might be convinced that the players were at fault.  However, with about three dozen players participating at the workout that preceded the hospitalization of the players, this means that fully one third of the players were affected.  Something is contributing to the problem.  Perhaps a change in the supplements being taken by the players, or perhaps a seemingly small change to the workout routine.

It seems to me that the NCAA has a vested interest in this.  I’m not suggesting that they should investigate this incident with the goal of meting out punishment, but rather as a way to learn more about the causes of rhabdomyolysis.  Who better to serve as an independent body in the investigation?  Perhaps this is simply an isolated incident … but do we really want to take that risk?  I, for one, don’t want to see an outbreak of rhabdomyolysis at two schools next year and ten more schools the year after that.  Let’s nip it in the bud.

In today’s fiction story, our hero Dylan finds himself falling for a beautiful stranger … and one thing leads to another …

“Oh, there you are!”

Dylan glanced up from his martini as the woman slid into the opposite side of the booth. He immediately knew that he had never seen this woman before. It was apparent that her heritage was mostly Hawaiian, with a touch of something else. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the end result was a strikingly beautiful young woman. Dylan definitely would have remembered her.

He was about to tell her that he was not the man she was looking for. Then he thought the better of it. Why not spend a night in her company? There were certainly worse ways to kill time on a business trip. He kept his mouth shut and returned her smile.

The waiter noticed the new arrival and dropped by the table.

“I’ll have what my friend is having,” she said. “A martini. Shaken, not stirred.”

Dylan had to laugh at the fairly decent Bond impression. The waiter returned in a flash with the drink before disappearing again – hopefully for good.

As she sipped the drink, the woman spoke softly under her breath. “We can’t talk shop,” she explained. “There may be people watching. Just act natural – like we’re a real couple.”

As her hand stroked his, he heard her pump drop to the floor a moment before her foot began an ascent up his leg. Dylan wasn’t sure what her game was … and wasn’t sure he cared.

“Check, please,” he said with a grin.

She gulped down the last of her martini and began to leave, pulling him behind. Dylan quickly threw some bills on the table as they exited the hotel bar.

“I need to visit the little girl’s room,” she explained. “Could you hold my purse?” Under her breath, she said “It’s good cover.”

Dylan smiled at the comment as he watched her disappear into the rest room. Cover, indeed. As if they were spies on some sort of secret mission. He wondered if her elevator didn’t go all the way to the top floor, or if she was just toying with him in some sort of perverse fantasy. This would have been a great opportunity to escape. He could just toss the handbag on the floor and flee to his room.

Or he could hang around a bit longer to see what developed. Why not play the game a bit longer?

When she emerged from the ladies room, the doorman spotted her and smiled.

“Ah, Miss Amy. Big plans for the evening?”

“A romantic evening with my beau, Charles. Would you mind calling me a cab?”

“Of course, Miss Amy. You lovebirds have a good time. Good to finally see you, master Gerald.”

As Charles waived down a taxi, Dylan felt butterflies in his stomach. Beau? Romantic evening? He was fairly sure this was going to be the end of the game – she would jump in the cab and leave him behind.

“Alfred’s on 18th,” she told the cabbie. As the taxi pulled away from the curb, Amy leaned in close and kissed him on the lips. Dylan was a bit surprised by the passion she exuded, but found himself responding with great fervor.

“Oh Gerald,” she whispered into his ear, “I can’t wait to get you back to the hotel and have my way with you.”

Dylan felt himself flush with embarrassment, and noticed that the cabbie’s attention was split between the road in front of him and the passengers in the back seat. He wondered if it would be poor form to suggest simply skipping dinner entirely. He also wondered who this Gerald chap was. Gerald was certainly missing out on a good time.

The taxi arrived at their destination far too soon, and Dylan had to disentangle himself from Amy in order to get out of the cab.

Alfred’s was a classy joint, and Dylan knew that he had spotted the scam. A bit of playing around with him was going to net Amy a very nice meal. Dylan knew that he was being conned, but decided to play along. He was being entertained by the charade, and it was a pleasant way to spend an evening in a new city. His bank account could handle one extravagant meal.

Dylan sipped his wine and waited for Amy to take the lead in the conversation – not willing to admit that he had absolutely no idea what topics might be of interest to her. Amy turned the conversation toward the entertainment, and they discussed the latest Hollywood movies while they ate their salads.

The waiter brought the check when Dylan had finished his generous slab of prime rib. To his surprise, Amy quickly grabbed it and paid with her credit card. As they left the restaurant, Amy suggested that they stroll back to the hotel. As they walked past the storefronts hand in hand, Dylan once again tried to solve the puzzle – what was Amy up to?

“Let’s just go back to the room and watch some TV, hon. You must be tired from your trip.”

Dylan nodded his agreement, and they entered the elevator. As the elevator rose toward the ninth floor, Amy wrapped her arms around him and gazed lovingly into his eyes. Dylan was completely oblivious to the people who got on the elevator on the fourth floor – he was completely lost in her kisses … and she smelled so nice!

Dylan followed Amy as she walked down the hallway toward her room. The suite wasn’t opulent, but was quite nice – definitely a step above his own room. Amy disappeared into the bathroom for a moment. When she reappeared, she was wearing a black nightgown that didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. She slid under the covers and invited Dylan to join her. He stripped down to his boxers and slid into bed next to her.

This was all a bit strange, but very nice. What’s the worst that could happen? Well, maybe he’d wake up with missing kidneys … but that didn’t really happen, did it?

After a moment of channel surfing, they found a decent comedy and settled in for the show. Toward the end of the movie, Dylan notice that Amy was no longer laughing. She was sound asleep in the bed. Again, this was a golden opportunity to escape back to normalcy. Dylan turned off the bedside lamp … and then climbed back into bed, gave the sleeping woman a goodnight kiss, and settled in for a good night’s sleep.

“Gerald, Gerald. You need to get up or you’ll be late for your meeting.”

Dylan glanced at the clock. It was 6:13 AM on Sunday. The pre-conference meet-and-greet didn’t begin until 5 PM. He didn’t need to be up for hours. Maybe it was a mistake to hand over a day of his life to this beautiful stranger.

Then Amy beckoned him toward the shower and the doubts disappeared. He could feel his excitement growing.

“Not now, honey. Tonight, when the meeting is over.”

As the water heated their bodies, she began to speak softly.

“The sound of the shower should make it impossible for the bugs to pick up what we’re saying. I got a green light on the operation. The keys on the desk are to a black Lincoln in the parking lot. There’s a duffel bag in the trunk that has everything you need. When you’re finished, meet me at gate 54 at the airport at 5 PM. I have been instructed to accompanying you on the flight and stay with you in the safe house until the heat is off. Do you have any questions?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he found himself saying. Plan? What plan?

“Good. Now, wash my back. And start singing something.”

Dylan sang a mediocre version of “I love a rainy night,” while he worked slowly at the job of washing Amy’s back. Regretfully, he finally finished the job and stepped out of the shower and toweled off.

Forty minutes later, he was dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and khakis. They weren’t his clothes, but they were a perfect fit. Amy stood before him in a frilly, low-cut white blouse and a very short skirt. Absolutely stunning.

“How do I look?” she asked.

Dylan blushed, fearing that she had caught him staring.

“Uh, good. Fine.”

“Good?”

“Beautiful, actually.”

“That’s more like it.”

When they arrived at the lobby, Amy had the doorman call her a cab.

“Have fun at your meeting, honey. I know I’m going to have a great time shopping.”

Dylan feigned dismay. Amy gave him a quick kiss and ran out to the taxi. As it disappeared, Dylan looked at the keys in his hand.

A black Lincoln with a duffel bag. Was it time to finally walk away? In for a penny, in for a pound, he decided. Besides, he was curious.

Dylan sat in the front seat of the car and pawed through the contents of the bag. The top page detailed the Sunday routine of a “subject”. A half dozen photographs pictured a man in a variety of poses. Dylan thought that he recognized the man.

There was also some money in the bag. A great deal of it, actually. At least couple hundred thousand dollars. Then, finally, the gun. The pieces quickly clicked into place.

Dylan was in over his head. It was definitely time to walk away. Time to walk away from the gun, away from the money, away from Amy. He would check into a different hotel, attend his boring conference, and fly back to Omaha at the end of the week. This was a type of excitement he didn’t need.

Dylan left the duffel bag on the seat, opened the door, and quickly walked away from the honey trap that had been set for him. He breathed a sigh of relief as he strolled down the street.
  
  
  
 
Dylan checked his watch again. Then he saw her out of the corner of his eye, clutching plane tickets in her hand. As a plane roared overhead, he felt himself captivated by her beauty once again.

Johnny Goodman is out today, so I’ll be covering the sports beat.  In a move that is sure to shock Johnny, I’ll turn the focus to his favorite sport – golf.

Fan of golf have a unique power that is uncommon in the world of sports fans – they can actually affect the outcome of events.  Viewers of televised golf tournaments can actually call or email to notify the governing body of violations that occurred during the tournament.  The officials can then review footage to determine if a violation occurred.  There is a good reason why viewers can catch things that the tournament officials don’t –  unlike most sports where the action is concentrated at one physical location, golf has action occurring on every spots of the course.  Although officials are present, it’s not like an NFL game where they can huddle together to make a call.

The real issue isn’t really that a viewer can cause a player to be penalized a stroke or two – it’s that the infraction can cause the player to be disqualified.  If a player signs an incorrect scorecard, they are disqualified – even if they thought the scorecard was accurate.

Let’s take a look at a recent occurrence.  At the Abu Dhabi Championship on Friday, Padraig Harrington replaced his ball on the green and then inadvertently touch his ball when he removed his marker.  He thought that the ball not not move from the spot where he placed it.  However, a TV viewer emailed to indicate that it had moved.  The viewer was correct – the ball ended up in a different spot … but the width of 1-2 dimples.  Harrington should have penalized himself two stroke.  Since he did not, and since he signed a scorecard that did not include the penalty, he was disqualified from the tournament.  Prior to the infraction, he was one spot behind the leader.

I’m admittedly not much of a golf fan.  I do understand that golfers take the rulebook very seriously.  However, if you need to use slow-mo to find the violation (as officials needed to do), did the player really gain an advantage?  Another PGA golfer made an astute observation – the top players are more likely to have this happen to them, simply because they are on television more often.  That’s certainly a concern for me – I’d definitely want a level playing field.

What’s the answer?  Give the officials some flexibility in enforcing penalties.  Obviously, care would need to be taken to avoid having players push the envelope, but surely there is a way to do this.  In the case of Harrington, penalize him two strokes and perhaps an additional stroke for not having caught the violation himself.  But don’t throw him out of the tournament for an unintentional violation.  This would be akin to having a baseball team forfeit a game because the pitcher commits a balk.  Make the punishment fit the crime.