Peter Gammons is a Freaky Old Man

Yoni Mashimura

I was at a press conference recently after being drafted by the Milwaukee Brewers. I wasn't crazy about it, having grown up in L.A. and all, but I didn't make it that far down in the draft. I posed with the uniform and stuff, tried to smile, but I was weirded out by this old guy in front who kept staring at me.

Later, I found out I had to talk to him. This guy was like a big ESPN guy or something. Up close, he was even grosser! He had liver spots and stuff and his hair was all wispy like spiderwebs or something. He smelled like an old refrigerator, you know?

So he starts giving me this weird look like he's my uncle or something, asking me about if I'm excited to be playing for the Pilots. The Pilots? I mumbled something in Japanese and pretended I was imported and he seemed to think that was a good story! I was stuck! He started ask questions about players like Dizzy Dean and Wally O'Harra but he never ended up with a question, you know? I was confused. And all the time he kept scooting his chair closer and putting his hand on my knee after he was done asking me a question. I was so horrified I couldn't move!

He kept asking me questions about how close I was to other prospects... and talking about the locker rooms! I pretended to become frightened by the flashbulbs and ran off.

That Gammons is one freaky old guy, and I don't know what his problem is. I wish I didn't have to talk to him again.

Love the Players, Hate the Draft

"Peter," important baseball columnist

The baseball draft was originally conceived as a way to bring parity to the sport, between the struggling teams and the dynasties, those in large and small markets. Now, it is a joke.

The Washington Senators this year took young high school player R.B. Wupplestein, from Camel Falls, Iowa. A strong, strapping young centerfielder, he hit .512 with 14 home runs, an Iowa high-school record. But the Senators have chosen Wupplestein over other worthy candidates not because of his abundant talent but because he is not represented by a cut-throat agent.

It is these agents who have ruined the game. The Senators can't afford to draft young R.B. than they can afford to sign a free-agent pitcher. This is a tragedy! That the team of our country's capital, the team of America, can't take the player they want -- arrogant, evil catcher Morgan O'Halloway -- is a sign of the creeping vine of greed that threatens our beloved pastime.

O'Halloway, with his tanned, cut features and cruel rugged looks, is surely the best pure athlete in the draft, but he would only sign with a team that can afford his high-priced services. And so other teams that more desperately need that haughty look, that half-grin delivered with a cocked eyebrow, these teams go wanting, settling down with moderate players of moderate abilities, all the while thinking of the stallion they could have tamed.

And should have. For if the Senators can't tie down a muscular prospect like Morgan, than what hope do we, as a people, have for lasso-ing our own dreams?

Also taken in the first round were sassy second baseman Rico Rodriguez, the lightning-quick and well-oiled Stanley Steed, and the well-built form of massive first baseman Chip Tungsten.

Like the poorer teams, I can't help but find myself drawn to these players, but unable to have them.

Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictitious characters in Counter/Point and actual persons is strictly coincidental. Honest.