Welcome to the Extra P_int where the beer is always cold, the patrons less informed, and the conversation compelling.
The sports calendar thins in February and if you own a sports bar that’s not good. It’s enough of a worry that a few years ago Extra P_int owner Dennis O’Donnell instituted a Valentine’s Day party. His invitations, posted in strategic places like over the urinals, instructed guys to bring their favorite honeys to the P_int on the 14th. About a third of the reprobates Dennis calls customers came with bottles of Sue Bee. The next year he tried it again but changed the wording from “honeys” to “sweethearts.” Heart shaped cakes covered the bar. The battle was on.
Last year he tried “significant other.” One guy brought his portable TV. Another guy brought an inflatable object. Both were single and either content with their condition or resigned.
As this year’s magic red letter day drew near, I asked Dennis about his plans.
“I’m headed for fantasy this year,” he said.
Nadine, the world’s greatest drink bearer, said, “I refuse to work that night.”
“Not that kind of fantasy,” Dennis said. “Fantasy baseball! Did you know that baseball is the most profitable sports season for bars? Lot’s of time to hoist the glass and rarely so intense that my customers lose sight of what they’re really here for.”
“Drinking?” I asked.
“Tipping me?” Nadine said.
“Right,” Dennis said. “A free napkin for each of you. The season can’t come early enough. Scribbler, you’re going to love this. I did some research.”
“Dennis, you told me you didn’t have time for such things as reading. You have a bar to run.”
“I know, but this time it’s important. There’s a recession on out there. I gotta bring people in the door. Fantasy baseball is the answer.”
“What’s your plan?”
“I’ll start the fantasy draft around the 10th of March. It’ll take some time, maybe a week or so. That leaves about three weeks to make some trades and set the line ups before the regular season starts. We’ll kick it off with a big draft night party. If you want a team of your own it will cost fifty dollars and I’m matching it with another fifty bucks per team.”
“Generous, Dennis,” I said.
“When a real live place runs a fantasy league, business goes up. It’s more fun to bitch and moan in person than online. What better place than here? I’ve always encouraged bitching and moaning. I’m going to set the back room up for baseball only. Every evening from five to eleven, no one gets in who isn’t an owner or official coach.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“You can bring a friend. I want it exclusive, but not too.” He brought me another Mirror Pond. “I’m putting in a bigger flat screen, and buying the full baseball package from Direct TV. And boosting the Wi-Fi. iPads welcome, that sort of thing. I’ve even got an app coming where they can order food and drink without lifting their asses out of their chairs!”
“Wow! If you could only pass out catheters they’d never have to stop bitching and moaning.”
“You can’t do that can you?” he asked, and I shook my head.
“What’s the reaction been?” I asked.
“You’re the first I’ve told. I’m saving the big announcement for the Valentine Party. I’m telling you because I want you to be commissioner of the fantasy league. Kind of like the king of fantasy. It’s quite an honor.”
I reached for my tab on the bar and made to tear it up. He grimaced, but said nothing so he was serious. I laid the chit down intact.
“What does the commissioner do?” I asked, shocked to discover I was thinking about it.
“You run the show. You would be the Solomon to my big boss. Everybody knows you’re fair, and know what you’re talking about. The first thing you have to do is next Saturday, though.”
“What?”
“You know what SABR is, right?”
“Society of American Baseball Research. Big time baseball math.”
“I knew you’d know. Their Northwest chapter is meeting in Portland that day and I want you to go. You may be the only guy in here that cares more about baseball than beer.”
“That’s good?” I asked him, my incredulity showing.
“No. You’re the P_int’s designated driver. The One Clear Head. I can’t afford another customer like you so I need to make the most of it. You’re like the throwback football player who goes both ways. You can hit and field, pitch and catch. You — ”
“Okay, okay, I get it. But, Dennis, all the flattery aside, I’m a writer, not a math genius. SABR members take baseball math very seriously.”
“Hey, I called SABR! A lot of what they do is interpret the stats and decide what stats aren’t being kept that should be, or are kept but aren’t clear. They got lots of math guys and don’t need another one, but the think clear part fits you real good. You’re always telling me to be more clear.”
“That’s really what they said?” I asked.
Dennis shrugged and hunched his shoulders. “Not exactly, but that’s what they meant.” He picked up my tab for two beers and made ready to rip. “Please?”
“You think I can be had for two beers?” He raised an eyebrow, hands still ready to make the final cut. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll do it. But, Dennis, if I wind up looking like an idiot at the SABR meeting, it’ll cost you more than two beers!”
Join us next time at the Extra P_int where the beer is always cold, the patrons less informed, and the conversation compelling.
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