Hi, I’m Rockies co-owner Charlie Monfort:
When I was pulled over, I told the police I had “about two beers.” But when took the breathalyzer I blew a 0.284, which is more than three times above the legal limit. Essentially, by blood had a higher proof than an Old Rasputin Imperial Stout and a large glass of Zin, combined!
But the real lesson here is how wonderful my judgment is. I drank and then I drove, which could’ve literally killed people. Then I was so deluded about how drunk I was that it either caused me to think I only had a couple of beers or to think that I could’ve gotten away to lying to police about it. But man, considering I agreed to take that breath test, I probably literally did not know how many beers I had. That’s how drunk I was and how big of a problem I have. Heck, I’m probably smiling in my mugshot here because my brain was totally addled and I had no appreciation for the gravity of my situation!
Another problem I’m causing, even if it’s merely implicit: I’m making it awfully hard for the Colorado Rockies to be firm with players and employees when it comes to alcohol abuse. I mean, it’s bad enough when, mere months after our first baseman drove drunk that we feted him with awards and gifts. It’s bad enough that we play in a stadium literally named after a beer. But here I am, the co-owner of the team for crying out loud, behaving dangerously and irresponsibly and avoiding killing multiple people only by the grace of God, yet nothing really major is likely to happen to me.
Thank goodness I didn’t praise someone whose politics are unpopular. Or say racist things. Or take a drug with extra testosterone. If that were to happen I’d probably be in trouble. A suspension. A fine. Some sort of public reprimand from Major League Baseball. All I did is drink way, way too much and then pilot a couple thousand pounds of metal down a highway. Again.
I will likely end up getting fined a couple hundred dollars from the state and I will probably have to do some community service. I may check into a rehab facility if my family (and my lawyer) manage to talk sense into me. But after that I’ll go back to accepting large checks for watching my baseball team do things. And if they win stuff next year, I’ll be there, in a champagne-filled locker room at my beer stadium, happy to accept a trophy when the game is over.
And none of this will ever be mentioned again.
You’ll recall the little controversy last month when Ichiro Suzuki passed Pete Rose’s hit total. Specifically, when Ichiro’s Japanese and American hit total reached Rose’s American total of 4,256 and a lot of people talked about Ichiro being the new “Hit King.” You’ll also recall that Rose himself got snippy about it, wondering if people would now think of him as “the Hit Queen,” which he took to be disrespect.
There’s a profile of Ichiro over at ESPN the Magazine and reporter Marly Rivera asked Ichiro about that. Ichiro’s comments were interesting and quite insightful about how ego and public perception work in the United States:
I was actually happy to see the Hit King get defensive. I kind of felt I was accepted. I heard that about five years ago Pete Rose did an interview, and he said that he wished that I could break that record. Obviously, this time around it was a different vibe. In the 16 years that I have been here, what I’ve noticed is that in America, when people feel like a person is below them, not just in numbers but in general, they will kind of talk you up. But then when you get up to the same level or maybe even higher, they get in attack mode; they are maybe not as supportive. I kind of felt that this time.
There’s a hell of a lot of truth to that. Whatever professional environment you’re in, you’ll see this play out. If you want to know how you’re doing, look at who your enemies and critics are. If they’re senior to you or better-established in your field, you’re probably doing something right. And they’re probably pretty insecure and maybe even a little afraid of you.
The rest of the article is well worth your time. Ichiro seems like a fascinating, insightful and intelligent dude.
In 2012 Curt Schilling’s video game company, 38 Studios, delivered the fantasy role-playing game it had spent millions of dollars and countless man hours trying to deliver. And then the company folded, leaving both its employees and Rhode Island taxpayers, who underwrote much of the company’s operations via $75 million in loans, holding the bag.
The fallout to 38 Studios’ demise was more than what you see in your average business debacle. Rhode Island accused Schilling and his company of acts tantamount to fraud, claiming that it accepted tax dollars while withholding information about the true state of the company’s finances. Former employees, meanwhile, claimed — quite credibly, according to reports of the matter — that they too were lured to Rhode Island believing that their jobs were far more secure than they were. Many found themselves in extreme states of crisis when Schilling abruptly closed the company’s doors. For his part, Schilling has assailed Rhode Island politicians for using him as a scapegoat and a political punching bag in order to distract the public from their own misdeeds. There seems to be truth to everyone’s claims to some degree.
As a result of all of this, there have been several investigations and lawsuits into 38 Studios’ collapse. In 2012 the feds investigated the company and declined to bring charges. There is currently a civil lawsuit afoot and, alongside it, the State of Rhode Island has investigated for four years to see if anyone could be charged with a crime. Today there was an unexpected press conference in which it was revealed that, no, no one associated with 38 Studios will be charged with anything:
An eight-page explanation of the decision concluded by saying that “the quantity and qualify of the evidence of any criminal activity fell short of what would be necessary to prove any allegation beyond a reasonable doubt and as such the Rules of Professional Conduct precluded even offering a criminal charge for grand jury consideration.”
Schilling will likely crow about this on his various social media platforms, claiming it totally vindicates him. But, as he is a close watcher of any and all events related to Hillary Clinton, he no doubt knows that a long investigation resulting in a declination to file charges due to lack of evidence is not the same thing as a vindication. Bad judgment and poor management are still bad things, even if they’re not criminal matters.
Someone let me know if Schilling’s head explodes if and when someone points that out to him.