In this old-school episode of The Wonder Years, Kevin Arnold and his nerd comrade Paul Pfeiffer are sitting on a bus ruminating on future plans after high school. This scene always seemed kind of weird to me, since we all know Kevin Arnold becomes a deranged middle-aged man, unable to maintain a relationship with a woman, and that’s why he has to sit on a shrink’s couch and constantly re-tell stories of his brother Wayne and his first love Winnie.
Regardless, in the conversation, one asks the other (time has since whittled my memory of who asked whom) about plans for the future. “I want to be a Supreme Court justice,” says one. (I believe it was Kevin.) Some other wallflower, who probably ended up on a shrink’s couch telling stories that later became the inspiration for Herman’s Head (Remember that show?!) chimes in, “But you need a backup.” And Kevin replies, “NFL tailback.”
I’ve been wondering about this a lot recently, which Georgetown will do to you because you receive about six e-mails a day from the Career Center. I feel like Derrick Dortch should be one of my boys; he e-mails me more than almost anyone else I know, save the editor of this section.
Then, for work study last week, I had to go down to the Law Center campus to drop off some paperwork. Egad. If you’re ever looking to break into the horror film business (and in a way, aren’t we all?) consider making your first film about law school students. Have you ever seen a 27-year-old man with a backpack on, pumping a keg? Because I have, and I do not think I will ever be the same after this sight.
So basically, it occurs to me, I need a career plan. I need something to do. Writing gray box columns with inside jokes probably isn’t going to turn me into the next Michael Farber, although you know, it could. If you know who Mike Farber is, wow.
Then it hit me. I know the perfect job. And it’s my goal to make it mine.
This job I speak of is Kansas City Royals middle relief pitcher. Think about it. The MLB minimum is $750,000, so I’d already be making a six-figure salary, and more than about 97 percent of the world. I’d get a cool uniform and get to know George Brett personally. Also, I’d make near a million dollars for never doing anything stressful. Middle relievers, on the best teams, are called in to protect a lead for the sixth and seventh innings before the ace closer comes on. This is how the 1996 Yankees captured their first Series crown. Yet, if I were on the Royals, there are no stressful situations, because my team sucks! I come in down 12-3 in the fifth inning, after Jose Rosado has been shelled due to his inability to throw a fastball. Maybe once, twice a year I’d come in to protect a lead.
I’d get to travel around the United States for free and see every American League ballpark, and a few National League ones. That guy on the Mastercard ads is still trying to accomplish this feat. Maybe he should have developed a circle change.
I get a good bunch of friends to chill with in the other relief pitchers. If you ever watched the 1986 Mets team video, which I have perhaps more than any non X-rated video, you know that the men who must hang out in the bullpen do crazy things, like giving each other hot foot, or rating females sitting near the pen. In addition, I’d develop a relationship with the bullpen catcher, perhaps the most animated player on any baseball team. Usually, it’s someone who is very bitter about another fat, slow guy who can hit a tiny bit taking his job on the actual field, and they channel humor through this grief. Jerry Seinfeld started as a bullpen catcher. Wait, no he didn’t.
So this is my ideal job. I’ve already put in some calls. I actually received a card telling me I could try out in northern Maryland around late February, to see if they will invite me to spring training. If you see me throwing balls against that wall by Safeway, or carrying a copy of Mark Gubicza’s Pitching for Dummies around, you’ll know why now. I’m going to Kansas City!
