Alex Rodriguez, Manny Ramirez, et. al.

A-Rod.

Manny.

Multi-millionaires.

Liars.

Cheats.

Frauds.

American.

Indeed.

To be in Playboy, you better have Beautiful Baseballs

We’ve never believed in tooting our own horn.  Over the years, we have put extreme effort into simply making a beautiful, handmade item, and then offering it to America at a fair price.  By doing so, we’ve gotten a fair amount of publicity.  But, sometimes, things happen and they deserve a toot.

I mean, come on, when I started this company I never figured we’d make the pages of Playboy.  I envisioned the possibility of us being featured in such places as the Baseball Hall of Fame, Saks Fifth Avenue, and the Museum of Arts & Design.  That all happened.  But, Playboy?!  Well, there we are, on page 23 of this month’s issue.  

A few pages after quite a nice photo of the alluring British actress Emily Blunt… and a few pages before Aleksandra Eriksson, a 19-year-old Swedish Supermodel (need I say more?), you’ll find the Constitution Baseball, handmade by Bergino.

Check it out.  You’ve now got a helluva excuse to run out and buy Playboy.

This Hugh Hefner guy… genius.  Toot!

The AIG Greed Award of the Day

As a die-hard New York Mets fan, I did some quick research into the availability of Mets tickets in Bailout CitiField.  Let’s take a look…

It’s currently 42 degrees, on a rainy March afternoon in the City of New York, so my mind wanders to a summer weekday afternoon at the ballpark.  Not many places in the world I’d rather be.

Wednesday, April 29 at 1:10 p.m.  Mets vs. Florida Marlins in New York.  Shallow left field, 5th row.  $135 per ticket.

Thursday, June 4 at 12:35 p.m.  Mets vs. Pittsburgh Pirates in Pittsburgh.  Just beyond the infield dirt in shallow right field, 8th row.  $26 ticket.

$135 to see the Mets at home vs. $26 to see them on the road?  Are you kidding me?  Yo, Wilpon, what’s up?

The afternoon of April 29th.  I’m not sure where I’ll be.  But I know for sure where I won’t be.

P.S. — One other note… I can hear you already.  How dare you compare the Mets to the Pirates?  One plays in a big market.  One has a huge payroll.  Yada, yada.  Okay, so I did some quick research into, let’s see, the Philadelphia Phillies and their ticket prices.  How much for a comparable seat, you ask?  How about $39.  That’s right. $39.

Philadelphia and New York.  Big markets.  Big payrolls.  Great ballparks.  Just one difference.  There’s a championship flag fluttering in the breezes of the City of Brotherly Love.

Yo, Wilpon, how about taking off the shades, look us in the eye, and tell it to us straight?

A-Rod’s Cousin . . . Found!

After an extensive search, we’ve found A-Rod’s mysterious cousin . . .

Bernie Has Been Arrested

Last week, Jeff Wilpon, an owner of the New York Mets, was on the telephone when his father and fellow team owner, Fred, tried to reach him.  Jeff usually asks his father if he can call him right back.  For the first time ever, his father said no.

“Bernie has been arrested,” his father told him.

There has been plenty already written — and surely truckloads of words yet to come — about one of the all-time great shysters, Bernard Madoff.  If there were a Hall of Fame for the lowest level of humanity, this guy Madoff is a first ballot inductee.

Then I read a little story that Bernard Madoff is not only a close friend and trusted investment advisor to Fred Wilpon, but a New York Mets season ticket holder, too.  Two tickets.  $495 per seat.  $990 a game.  Only $80,190 for the season.  Get ‘em while they’re hot!

Why am I not surprised.  Given the price of season tickets in the new New York ballparks, who else could afford it?  

Look to your left, look to your right, hold on to your wallet, you never know who may be sitting next to you at Citi Field next season.  Then again, it’s probably not this schmuck.  He may be spending the summer far away from the green grass, Citibank billboards, and fresh air of Flushing, New York.  Madoff may be in a little prison cell, having to call on his memory and imagination to conjure up what’s taking place on the diamond of his beloved Mets.  Maybe Fred and Jeff Wilpon can give him the happy recap during a conjugal visit.

After all, Bernie has been arrested.

 

Breaking News: Troubled Citigroup Says It Will Keep Naming Deal With Mets

In 2006, Citigroup agreed to a 20-year, $400 million contract to name the New York Mets’ new stadium Citi Field.

In November 2008, Citigroup announced it planned to eliminate 52,000 jobs.

Okay, I don’t claim to be an economics whiz.  All I remember about my economics course at NYU is the textbook was written by Paul Samuelson.  What the textbook taught, I have no clue.  So, that should put me on even footing with the CEO of Citigroup.

Let me get this straight… Citigroup laid off 52,000 workers.  That’s 52,000 families with a lot of worries.  And, even if some of them are Mets fans, I have a feeling they’re not worried about the Mets middle relief staff for next season.  At the same time, Citigroup is going to keep shelling out $20 million a year, for the next 20 years, to have their name in lights on the new ballpark in Flushing?

Flushing.  Quite appropriate.  I figure it’s only a matter of time before the current management team at Citigroup is flushed into the Hudson River.  Shortly thereafter, look for news that Citigroup will no longer have naming rights at Shea Stadium (oops, I mean Citi Field).

Given the state of the economy, maybe then I’ll jump into the bidding.  Bergino Field.  Sounds kind of nice.  My bid:  $3.77.  

Don’t laugh.  That’s the current price of a share of Citigroup.

Dads and Sons

I just happened to come upon an article in today’s New York Times.  The writer has penned some of the most beautiful songs of the past 40 years.

Without further adieu, I bring you the words of Paul Simon…

I was sitting on my father’s lap listening to a Yankee game on our old Philco radio. It was 1948 and I suddenly realized I was a Yankee fan. The team was headed for a dismal third-place finish. I was 7, and there was nothing to do but wait for 1949 and the new Yankee manager, Casey Stengel.

I was standing in a subway car, holding my dad’s hand when the train emerged from the tunnel, climbed the elevated tracks , and I saw Yankee Stadium for the first time. How beautiful! The emerald green grass, the old-fashioned white facade and the dots of color that were the fans in their seats .We were in the left-field bleachers and the colors seemed even more intense, the grass a bluer green, the pinstripes dazzling and the ball a white rocket that shot from the hands of the outfielders playing long toss.

We were playing the Indians and DiMaggio was returning to the lineup after an injury. As he approached the plate, the crowd was thumping. At the crack of the bat everyone around me stood to watch the ball’s trajectory. I couldn’t see a thing. It was a home run. I stood on my seat as Joe rounded third. I’d like to play in Yankee Stadium , I thought.

“Just lay it in there,” I told Artie. “I want to see how far I can hit it.” It was 1968, the year Mickey Mantle retired and “Mrs. Robinson” was nominated for a Grammy. Simon and Garfunkel had gotten permission to make a video at Yankee Stadium.. As an ex-high school baseball player (all-Queens second team), I was eager to test my left-handed swing against the fabled “short porch” in right field. After fouling off a couple of pitches I finally hit one on the screws, as they say. The ball arced gracefully and landed in what could be charitably called medium right field, about 250 feet from home. Porch not short enough. Stickball was really my game anyway.

•

1988. Would Mickey Mantle be willing to play stickball in a music video of “Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard”? Calls were made. Feelers put out. Yes! The Mick would do it but was demanding $1,500 and a limo from his hotel. We met at a playground at 46th and 10th, and for a good hour I got to play stickball with Mickey Mantle. Did I thank him as he eased his aching knees into the limo? Profusely. Did I mention that I spent countless hours imitating his style of running? No, I was too embarrassed, but the photo of the two of us is one of my treasures.

•

A month after DiMaggio’s death I was standing in center field with Bernie Williams. It was a few hours before the unveiling of the Yankee Clipper’s monument before 53,000 fans. I asked Williams, the Yankee center fielder, how it felt to view the three-tiered majesty of the Stadium from his vantage point. He replied, “It’s a little like looking at the Grand Canyon.”

Two hours later I heard Bob Sheppard announce my name, and I walked from the old bullpen to center field and began to sing, “Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?” but the roar of the crowd was muted in my earpiece and I was far away thinking of my father and that subway ride. After the ceremonies we were invited up to the Steinbrenner suite. I sat at a table with Phil Rizzuto, who introduced me to his wife, Cora. This was becoming a Yankee-dream-come-true afternoon. After an appropriate amount of time, I thought I ought leave, but Rizzuto said: “You can’t leave yet. You didn’t eat any of Steinbrenner’s chicken.” I said I had to pick up my son at a birthday party and, besides, I was a vegetarian. “A vegetarian?” Rizzuto said. “A vegetarian. Holy cow!”

My youngest son always says that his favorite moment is when you’re just coming out from under the stands and you see the players and the field. I know that pleasure will still be there in the new Stadium, but for those of us lucky enough to have known the House That Ruth Built, something special has passed

So, so long, Scooter, so long, Joe, so long, Mick, and since I never got the chance to say it, so long, Dad.

Paul Simon is a Grammy Award-winning singer and songwriter.

Henry L. Aaron and Willie Howard Mays, Jr.

Last night, my girlfriend and I were fortunate enough to attend a live television show — HBO Sports’ CostasNow. The edition was devoted exclusively to the state of baseball.

Marci is far from a huge baseball fan, so I gave her a quick, introductory lesson about the topics being discussed and the Hall of Famers in attendance — Bob Gibson, Jim Palmer, Dave Winfield. Billy Crystal needed no such introduction. And, oh yeah, these two other guys were there, too. Henry L. Aaron and Willie Howard Mays, Jr.

It was fascinating to watch a live tv show from the first row. Next to Bob Costas, we had the best seats in the house. Hank Aaron and Willie Mays on stage together, just steps away from us. Where were we? The NYU Center for the Arts? Or heaven?

Marci was enamored with the skill and humor of Bob Costas. He’s a pro’s pro’s pro. Or whatever it is you call the best.

An amazing hour-and-a-half of live tv. When it ended, with Aaron and Mays on stage together, Costas asked the audience to please stay seated for another five minutes (at that point, Bob, I would have given you five years without a protest) so they could do some type of promo for HBO.com.

Then, as sometimes happens in baseball — and life — a first-rate curveball.

Willie Mays, simply, opened up. He went on and on and on. And Costas let him go. Five minutes turned into 30. But, I swear, it felt like seconds.

If you want something worthwhile to do with your time, I implore you to watch this show. I’m not sure how it translates to the screen, but, in person, it was enchanting.

I only wish that the person who introduced me to the pure beauty of baseball could have been there, too. It sure felt like heaven last night, Dad. Maybe it was.

Where have you gone, Casey Stengel?

Okay, I admit it. I’m a Mets fan. Still. But it ain’t easy.

No need to get into the entire Willie Randolph firing and how it went down. Let’s just say that I was a big Willie fan. Not so keen on the Shea suits.

Which got me to thinking…

Supposedly, the Mets are a Championship caliber team (at least according to GM Omar Minaya and owner Wilpon Family). But, if they’re potential Champions, how come they don’t have one legitimate All-Star? Take a look at their individual stats. With the possible exception of Billy Wagner, you’d have a difficult time making the case for any of the Mets being on this year’s National League All-Star team.

The 2008 New York Mets. Champions?

I can only imagine what Casey Stengel would have said about that.

America, 2008

Occasionally, you come across a story that brings it all together… Baseball. Life.

While reading through today’s New York Times, I came across the following. No need for additional commentary by me. But, if you’d like to leave a comment, we’d love to hear from you.

AROUND THE MAJORS. Jose Canseco, who made millions during his baseball career, has had his home foreclosed. Canseco told the syndicated TV show Inside Edition that he walked away from his $2.5 million, 7,300-square foot home in suburban Encino, Calif., because it did not make sense to continue making payments.