by Jim Bouton
Bouton: Events that have historically taken place at Wahconah Park can continue. And we have no intention of taking fees from high school sports. The fees we were talking about were for things like rock concerts or other events, some of which we might be able to attract.
Elitzer: The presumption has to be that any use of the park must be entertained, and if our denial is shown to be unreasonable, then we’d be in default of the lease and you could terminate us.
Smith: Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t we have to get permission from the Astros during the season if we want to do anything with the park?
Nilan: No! We can do it.
Smith: Well, we’ve sat down with them when we talked about doing a concert or something…
Nilan: All we have to check is if the gate’s open and they’re not playing. That’s it!
Massimiano: And then they give us the keys back when their season is over.
Bouton: We’d be happy to give you the keys back, although you might want to give them right back to us so we can open up and make the repairs that the city was normally making.
This generated a knowing laugh from the back of the room and a sour look from Massimiano. Ba-dum-bump.
With no further questions and the laughter dissolving into applause, Chip and I returned to our seats. Nilan called for a five-minute break.
“Great job,” said Paula, “And the audience loved it.”
“I’ve got to go outside and call 7 West,” I said. “Give them a heads up on an approximate time for the phone poll.”
“You don’t need the poll,” said Paula. “The people are clearly on your side.”
“We want to reach the thousands at home, watching on television,” said Chip. “They’ll just brush off this crowd here.”
Outside City Hall, I wandered around in the dark with my cell phone, looking for a place to call where I wouldn’t be seen by the smokers milling around by the door. Ducking behind a small spruce tree, I reached 7 West, who said they were all set. I just needed to call them about five minutes before we were ready.
Back inside, Cliff Nilan called on Jonathan Fleisig. This was Pittsfield’s first glimpse of the mayor’s choice for Wahconah Park, and all eyes followed him to the podium. Speaking from notes, Fleisig then gave a presentation that is hard to describe, although the word “rambling” would be a good start. But there was more to it than that—a particular quality that can only be captured with Fleisig’s own words. Herewith, some verbatim passages:
Mr. Chairman. Commission. Thank you for having me. It’s been a while, and by that I don’t necessarily mean tonight, but it’s been literally a year since we were fortunate enough to have the mayor and his contingent come down to the Northern League All-Star game over a year ago and tell us a little about Pittsfield and about the new stadium you guys are proposing. And since then I’ve been the, I’d say bridesmaid of sorts, saying that if the new stadium doesn’t get built, or even if it does get built, hey, I’d love to be in Pittsfield. So I guess in that little contest of who was talking first, I might actually win this one. Heh, heh.
I’m actually thrilled to be here. You know, I spent my camp years here, et cetera, et cetera. My goal tonight is a), to hopefully get us all to Wahconah Park by the ninth inning so we can finish the end of the game. All right? But you asked me to do certain things and that’s what I’ve done. You asked for a handful of answers to questions that you had, so I’ve prepared those answers for you.
At one point, Fleisig introduced his general manager, Mike Kardemas, who was sitting in the audience. Then he introduced Miles Wolff, who got up and spoke for a few minutes. As Wolff was speaking, I looked at Paula for her reaction to Fleisig. With a quizzical look on her face, she shrugged, as if to say “What was that?” Then Fleisig was back at the podium.
Usually, I’m told that I like to talk a lot about myself. I’ll try to calm that down for tonight. But just to give you a little background on myself… basically I’m just a baseball wannabe. I wanted to play major league baseball but I just didn’t have the capabilities, it’s that simple. So what I’ve done for the last eighteen years or so was, hopefully, to give myself an opportunity to somehow get back in it. And from my adventure into baseball in ’95/’96, I proceeded to go out and—because the same marketing techniques that’s used—I went to Bakersfield, California, and bought a hockey team, and went to Topeka, Kansas, and bought another hockey team. I wish in one way that I had a chance to be Jim Bouton, OK, and be a baseball player. In another sense I wanna be Mike Kardemas and be general manager. I’m stuck now trying to be the owner. If I had my choice I’d rather play in Wahconah Park than own a team in Wahconah Park, to be honest with you.
New England Collegiate Baseball League? I love baseball, OK. If we can get another twenty games in there, OK? and Mr. Ryan and I can work it out some way, then let’s do it, OK. If I have to work a little harder on the grounds crew, so be it. I love baseball, that’s what it’s all about, OK.
One thing that we’ll get to later on is… you know… I’m all about community and charity. I usually judge my teams by the three Cs, I call them—community, charity and championships. I may not have won any championships so far in my hockey… I think I’ve done pretty well in community and charity. And Pittsfield’s going to be no different.
What I’d like to do, is basically set up a presence here in Pittsfield, OK, and most of the charity work that I do for… say in Bakersfield right now?… what I would like to do is make that a focus of my charity… make Pittsfield high school athletics my primary charity focus.
I know that there are some tough times going on with high school sports nowadays. I raise a lot of money with my sports teams, OK? This is my way of giving back. So, you know what? I’d like nothing better than to host all the high school baseball games. If I can raise the money to buy them new bats, new uniforms, and everything else, so be it.
OK. A lot of things are said… uh… I agree with Chip in one essence that you should really do your due diligence about everything. And I’m real proud of everything I’ve done. OK, in sports.
I leaned over to Chip and said, “He agrees with you in one essence.” Chip nodded and smiled. Paula was slowly shaking her head, the grammarian in her soul mourning the demise of the English language.
I guess the buzzword is local, local, local. I just didn’t have the opportunity to be born in the Berkshires, OK? Once again, I’m a wannabe. It’s that simple. All right? I don’t wanna get on airplanes, OK? If I had my druthers, I don’t wish to have a baseball team go out there in California. I’d like to sell all my assets if I could, and just come back and concentrate on baseball in the Northeast. I love it with a passion. OK? And what I do there? In charity? Just imagine what I can do here. All right? And I’d really love it if you’d go over a bunch of this stuff.
I’d like to become a member of this community, OK? Michael would like to become a member of this community, OK? And we’d like to join in this community and do it together. OK? It’s very simple. If I’m fortunate enough, and you people are able to grant me—OK—use of Wahconah Park, the first thing I’m gonna do is go out and ask, “Hey! Who wants to be part of this?” OK?
It’s not about ego, it’s not about me, it’s not about Mr. Elitzer or Mr. Bouton, either. It’s about baseball, OK? And if other people want to share in my dream, hey, that’s great. As long as we’re winning and the fans are doing good, OK, and it’s comfortable in Wahconah Park, and everyone’s having fun, then let’s do it together. I’m not about fighting, OK? I’m about the community and the charity and making things work. OK?
Chip sat there looking at his watch. Paula looked dumbfounded, her mouth slightly open. I wanted to go up and put my hand on Fleisig’s shoulder, and tell him he could stop now, and that everything would be all right.
At the end of this, there’s a bunch of paraphernalia, everything from CD ROMs that I use, to programs, to a bunch of other stuff that I produce, because you know what? I draw 6,0
00 people in Bakersfield when it’s 110 degrees to a hockey game! And my team isn’t any good, I’ll tell you that, too. All right. All right? Not yet. Cause I don’t cheat. I don’t cheat on the salary cap, all right, but I work hard. I have, like to think are some brilliant marketing techniques. OK.
I did not bring a big marketing plan because I wasn’t asked to. I’m not going to go through all the things I’m gonna do at Wahconah because I wasn’t asked to, OK? But I will tell you this: No one will try harder than Mike, myself, and Miles and everybody that stands with us, OK? And we’ll give it everything we have, and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think I could be successful, so… I hope you chew on it, and if you have any questions I’ll be glad to answer them.
While the commissioners conferred among themselves, Paula urged us not to do our phone poll. “It would be overkill,” she said. “It would look like piling on, and you might actually create some sympathy for him.”
Chip and I trust Paula’s instincts on stuff like this, so I went outside and called 7 West to tell them we were canceling for the evening. Then the commissioners were ready with their questions for Fleisig, the answers to which were as follows:
You can throw away, really, all the numbers that I put out, OK? I’m in a business, OK? I have to produce revenue. If I have to spend more expenses in order to create that revenue, then so be it, I’ll do it. I spent a million dollars for ice in Topeka, Kansas. OK? It was a good investment. If I have to spend more…? I mean I love the luxury box ideas and some of the things that Mr. Bouton came up with. I think it’s great. I have some other ideas of my own as well, OK? If it produces revenue and pays for itself, then you do it. So, there’s no, necessarily, cap on it. It’s, you know what? What’s prudent, what makes good business sense, OK?
We’re not here to burn money, we’re here to put on baseball games and have everyone have fun, OK? Do we want to paint it? What kind of paint do we want to put on it? Personally, I like the idea of having murals painted, you know, little baseball things, by maybe local high school students. OK? Or some little kids.
I mean the bottom line is you’re in a business, and if people aren’t going to come to Wahconah Park because it’s unsafe—the way it was in Lynn—then I don’t have a business anymore. I mean I’m trying to be a realist here, OK? I want to be here, OK? I love it here, it’s beautiful. I had a great weekend here. I mean it’s nice.
What I want is, I want you to tell me, “Jonathan, you know what? It’s a good idea.” You know what? You wanna have a barbecue fest, bring one in. Hey, you want to bring in major league lacrosse for one or two games to see if people like it, bring it in. You know, if I can make more money and have revenue from some idea that you guys come up with, great, all right?
As far as high school games go, I mean, one of the things Mr. Ryan and I discussed is, you know, I’d like to have double headers. I’d like to have, you know, at four o’clock we have maybe a high school game or Mr. Ryan’s games or something like that, and at seven o’clock you bring on a pro team. Let everybody get in for one price. You know, I want to be imaginative.
Nobody has ever asked me these questions. I mean, people are making assumptions because certain things are written in the newspaper that aren’t true at all, OK? I love baseball. I wanna be here, OK? You want me to give you my word? You want me to sign something off? I’ll do it. As long as this Wahconah Park, OK, as long as I can make money, OK, and I mean, you know, it’s not going to make a lot of money, but as long as I can do a good job business-wise, why would I ever leave? I live in the Northeast, this is where I want to be, OK? It’s that simple.
I hope you like me, because if you give it to me, you’re stuck with me. I’m not going anywhere, OK? It’s that simple.
There was a smattering of applause as Fleisig returned to his corner, but for all intents and purposes it was all over. He had lost on a self-inflicted TKO. Not only did we not need the phone poll, but we decided not to use the three-minute follow-up we had been promised. Which is just as well, because as soon as Fleisig was done speaking, Nilan adjourned the meeting without so much as a glance in our direction.
But Chip and I were sky high. We moved about the Council chamber with a quiet confidence, gracious in victory, awaiting only the judges’ decision just a week away. Like magnanimous boxers who’ve been pummeling their opponents for fifteen rounds, Chip and I went over and touched gloves with the Fleisig team. That’s when Chip had a memorable exchange with Fleisig’s attorney, Mike MacDonald, of Cain Hibbard Myers & Cook.
“Do you work for Jeff Cook?” asked Chip, dropping the name of Steve Picheny’s attorney.
“Actually it’s the other way around,” said MacDonald, a little put out. “Jeff Cook works for me.”
“Was he kidding?” I asked Chip later.
“No, he was serious,” said Chip. “He seemed annoyed that I didn’t know the pecking order.”
Out in the hall, Chip and I chatted with some of our Wahconah Yes! teammates—folks like Potsy and Nadeau and Soldato and Roucher, and others whose faces we’re starting to put with names, like Sue Gordon and Jim Moran and Tim Zwingelstein. All agreed it had been no contest, but there was a noticeable lack of euphoria.
“It’s not over yet” was a common expression. So was “don’t count on anything with these guys” and “you better keep your eyes open.” Chip and I felt like we’d just won the World Series and our teammates were acting like we’d only won a regular season game. We were into “cool of the evening,” and they were into “yes, but.” It was a little disconcerting.
But it didn’t spoil our fun.
The first thing Chip said to Paula, once the three of us were outside the building, was, “I can’t wait to hear your observations.”
And we couldn’t wait to get back and tell Cindy all about it.
“So, how did it go?” she asked, as we came through the door.
And the four of us cozied up around the same kitchen table where our adventure had begun.
“Our guys were great, the college league isn’t even in the running, and Fleisig was pathetic,” said my totally unbiased wife.
“What was Fleisig like?” asked Cindy, automatically moving containers of food from the refrigerator to the table.
“He’s a nice-looking man with a beautiful speaking voice,” said Paula, “and then he spoils it all by speaking.”
“I actually felt sorry for him,” said Chip, digging into the Indonesian-style chicken.
“‘Hey, you know what?’” said Paula, imitating Fleisig. “‘I wanna be Jim Bouton. I’m a baseball wannabe, OK? And you know what? I’m not telling you my, you know, plans for Wahconah Park, all right, because, guess what, I wasn’t asked to, OK? It’s that simple. Hey, I love baseball, OK? OK?’”
“Nooooo,” said Cindy, not quite believing.
“She’s not kidding,” I said. “It was painful. Like watching a train wreck in slow motion.”
By this time, the chicken was history and it was time for ice cream. And some of Jacob Elitzer’s leftover birthday cake.
“What did they think of your proposal?” asked Cindy.
“Their big concern was the thirty years,” said Chip. “Even when I said they could cancel us if we didn’t perform, they were still worried. They were more worried about what they might lose than what they’d surely get.”
“It almost sounded as if they were afraid we would be successful,” I said.
“How did they look?” said Cindy, “And I’m asking you, Paula, because I trust your judgment more than Jim and Chip. At least you’ve got your feet on the ground.”
Chip and I can endure almost any insult while eating ice cream.
“With Fleisig,” said Paula, checking her notes, “they leaned forward and looked directly at him, called him by his first name, and were openly friendly and encouraging. With Jim and Chip they were deliberately noncommittal. A bit nervous. Careful to look respectfully attentive, but not fully engaged. Except when Jim talked about r
eporters calling him and asking what he’s doing these days. When he said that, a few of them were literally rocked back—a physical reaction. The guy on the left blinked hard a few times.”
“That was Massimiano,” said Chip.
“Why would they be afraid of publicity?” asked Cindy.
“There seems to be a deeply rooted fear of outsiders in Pittsfield,” said Paula, “which others have already commented on. Because outsiders mean change and change is what they fear the most. It threatens their tightly held power structure. Power is more important to them than money, more real to them. Money belongs to others, to rich people, a breed apart; but power is something they can taste, and they’re addicted to it. And so long as membership is restricted, they can run everything.”
“The last thing they want,” I said, “is for two guys from South County showing them how it’s done.”
“Because that will neuter them,” said Paula. “And their little insiders’ club, where they trade favors and peddle influence, will become irrelevant.”
“So why would they want Fleisig?” asked Cindy. “He’s from New York.”
“Fleisig is controllable,” said Paula. “They sense that he has no personal strength and that he will play the game and our guys won’t. They don’t trust anybody who isn’t beholden.”
“The irony,” said Chip, “is that we want the ballpark more than Fleisig does.”
“Their great joy,” said Paula, “will be in refusing to let you have it because you want it so badly. That’s the fix for them, the high, the proof of their power. And the better your proposal, the bigger the thrill they’ll get in rejecting it.”
“Then we might as well throw in the towel right now,” I said, just kidding.
