Pirate owner Bob Nutting vs. ghost of Roberto Clemente

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He’s one of the most unifying figures in the history of the Pittsburgh Pirates. He’s raised millions for unfortunates and, wow, the man has 3,000 hits.

Roberto Clemente?

Nope. We’ll get to him.

We’re talking Bob Nutting! The Pirate owner since 2007 is a tremendous unifier. 

Everyone hates him.

Worth $1.1 billion, Nutting, 57, raises millions for unfortunates by charging as much as $12 for warm domestic beer. Sure he’s the recipient of all that dough, but I consider him unfortunate because he’s such a defective human being he cares more about loot than love.

As for Nutting’s 3,000 hits, I’m talking about the number of times each week disgruntled Bucco fans take to social media to call Nutting a cheap moron.

Let’s make it 3,001.

My disdain for men like Nutting is usually on simmer. My stove top is too busy boiling over Trump, climate change, the publishing industry and my own multiple failures for it to have a free burner for someone as trifling as Nutting.

But then something will happen with Nutting and my hatred will resume its bitter potency.

It happened in 2009 when I saw Nutting while we were both attending a Bob Dylan/John Mellencamp/Willie Nelson concert. Instead of congratulations for his musical tastefulness, I publicly berated him for putting profits over performance.

Then something even more provocative happened Sunday.

Me and three high school buddies spent the afternoon touring the Roberto Clemente Museum in Pittsburgh’s Lawrenceville neighborhood.

When I went there for the first time in 2017, I wrote how it’s one on the 10 coolest places in Pittsburgh. 

Its walls and exhibits are devoted to the great — the saintly — Clemente. He died Dec. 31, 1972, at the prime of his life age of 38. He was the 11th player to get 3,000 hits (only 21 others have achieved the milestone in the 47 years since.

His dying with exactly 3,000 hits is divine symmetry. Because in 50, 100 years from now, visitors to the MLB Hall of Fame will look at the list and its — who knows? — 70 or 90 members and all will focus on two names: the first, whomever that may be. And the last, which for perpetuity will be Roberto Clemente.

Sassy youth may wonder, who is this dude? Did he hang on past his prime to get that milestone hit and retire?

Then some old timer will tell the story of Clemente.

See, he had every intention of playing more productive years. But fate intervened.

Clemente died in a plane crash on a mercy mission to take life-saving supplies to devastated victims of a Managua, Nicaragua, earthquake. The plane crashed on takeoff into the sea near San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Each member of the Pirates attended his funeral but one. His best friend, Manny Sanguillen, did not. He instead with aching poignancy spent the next 30 days diving in the ocean trying to find the body of his friend. The body was never found. 

Why Hollywood has never filmed the Clemente story is a mystery.

But there’s an even bigger mystery and that’s why Clemente’s team refuses to acknowledge, much less support, his namesake museum.

I learned this during my first visit and had it confirmed Sunday. Like a good attorney, I was asking a question to which I knew the answer:

“How much support does Bob Nutting and the Pirates give the museum?”

Gary, our excellent guide, responded with evident bitterness: “How much is 2 minus 2? The answer is nothing.”

Gary said he believes Bob Nutting thinks any dollar spent honoring Clemente is a dollar denied Bob Nutting.

I say we prove him correct. If you’re thinking of attending a Pirate game, consider instead touring the Clemente Museum. Shouldn’t be too difficult. There were 20 in our group Sunday or about two or three more than were at the Pirate game.

Score one for Roberto.

Really, the whole notion is preposterous, a man like Nutting believing he’s in competition with the ghost of the great Clemente.

Of course, Nutting is nothing if not a shrewd businessman.

Maybe he believes it’s more profitable to compete with a ghost than to compete with the Cubs and the Cardinals.

Related …

Roberto Clemente, Mr. 3000

Pirates should sign Ted Williams (1910-2002)

A great day for baseball! Let’s play 2 … or 3!

I play centerfield

Time for Bucs to bury the great Vince Lascheid

Twick 'r Tweet: My best from last two months

I was nervous yesterday about posting the one about Bob Nutting and the Pirates — it’s fourth from the bottom here — being partially to blame for the unspeakable weekend violence. But -- damn the torpedoes -- I posted it anyway just because I thought it was damn funny. I apologize if anyone thought the timing was poor. But with so much random violence happening everyday I don’t believe anyone should ever postpone any opportunity to laugh, love or even in jest bash Bob Nutting.

• It’s entirely possible to kick a squirrel in his nuts and hurt only his feelings. Hers, too.

• Reading the NY Times is to me like reading the Bible only if the Bible had baseball scores.

• I used to think I had a brain but it was all in my head.

• Donald Trump has 54 million Twitter follwers. Barack Obama, 102 million. How many times each week do you think the president asks John Kelly when the Electoral College will weigh in?

• If John McCain is as meticulous about posthumous details as we've heard, I hope he's hired security to monitor his grave to prevent President Trump from sneaking in to piss all over it because that's the kind of guy he is. I'm being totally serious

• Woke up this morning furious to realize that while both the guitar and the sitar are wood-based fretted instruments whose names rhyme, the guitar is spelled with an utterly superfluous "u." I'll get over it but, man. C'mon!

• Greater Latrobe open house last night. Val & I delighted to meet so many great educators. Me, I was bemused to see how parents back in HS revert back to their HS roles. Jocks! Burn-outs! Dweebs! I was unfazed. Why? I'm still one of the cool kids!

• Squads of real reporters are right now working on stories that will relate  how Hurricane Flo will alter mid-term voting outcomes in affected states. This will be important because it'll help you decide which conspiracy theory about government hurricane creation you're apt to believe.

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• For the sake of sweet, tuneful nostalgia I'd just once like to tune into The Weather Channel and hear a forecast of "Clouds in my Coffee, Clouds in my Coffee.”

• I judge all immigrants on how their culinary customs will either excite or bore my palette. So I welcome caravans of Mexicans and simultaneously hope Trump will propose building a big beautiful wall between us and, yuck, Great Britain! Yes, give me your burritos, your tacos, your enchiladas, your spatula-weilding masses …

• A friendly editor was reviewing my self-published books and asked if they were done on shoestring budgets. I told him no. They were done on loafer budgets. What freelance writer can afford shoestrings?

• I dreamt last night I spent an hour talking to Mick Jagger about songwriting. When I was done conveying to him my insights about the craft he told me he was going to write a song about me. I asked what he was going to call it, "Bitch 2," he said.

• Paleontologists dedicate themselves to working with dinosaur bones. Paleontologist is a difficult word to spell. Does anyone suppose paleontologists would object if we all started calling them boners?

• Some words have too many meanings. Like volume (a collection, bulk, strength); or record (recall, an album, etc.) & I'm not touching cock.

• I’m intent on volunteering for the Peace Corps in the hopes they’ll assign me to do hydro-electric work in third-world countries so one day I can say with concrete justification I once really gave a dam.

• Not saying local volunteer fire fighters join for purely social aspects, but it is suspicious the town whore house catches fire every Friday at 8 p.m.

• Ants eat sticks, dirt, decomposing bodies and even poop. My question: Which of their six arms do they use to comfort themselves when they get a tummy ache?

• Now is the time of year when we ardent baseball fans begin bragging to other baseball fans how we were able to stay awake for an entire baseball game. 

• I sometimes wonder if I'd be a different kind of father to a son than I am to daughters. Would I be as curious about their daily lives? I think I would, but I think with a son my questions would be more along the lines of, "So when are you going to shave that stupid beard?”

• Style tip you've likely never considered: Choose what you're going to wear each morning with the idea the zombie apocalypse might occur that day and people/zombies will see you in that garb until Rick Grimes drives a Bowie knife through your skull.

• Last week roughly 325 million Americans became angry experts on something that happened 36 years ago behind closed doors involving -- at most -- 3 teenagers. What do you think will infuriate you this week about which you know absolutely nothing?

• I’m always amazed to see locks on the lobster tank at the local grocery store. Show me the shoplifter who's fierce enough to shove a live lobster down his or her pants.

• What do you do when you're feeling overwhelmed by the billions of websites tended by hucksters, conspiracy theorists & the shady purveyors of bite-sized bull? Try this. The internet distilled to its absolute purity. It's a website on web sites.

• I thought about taking my watch apart to count all the pieces, but just don't have the time to kill.

• My way to really stick it to the publishing industry. I'm calling my next work, "The Big Hands-On Book of Glues & Other Adhesives," so every review will have to include the words, "Could Not Put it Down!”

• I hope I never need the info, but because you just never know: what do you yell when you see a tall duck about to hit his head on a low branch and how badly confused would the hapless fowl be if you yelled, “Duck!"

• I like to try and win arguments by pointing out that there's no way I could be wrong because I saw it on the internet. People usually laugh too hard to continue their antagonisms.

• Dreamt I was involved in an immoral activity with a prominent female. Her lawyers offered a large sum of money to avoid a scandal. Dream me refused. Dream me has more character than wide-awake me.

• It’s difficult to believe, but there will come a day when the name Trump will not appear in any headline anywhere. It may be Tuesday and it may be because the world is destroyed, but it will happen. What can I say? I'm an optimist!

• Anyone who believes the Biblical fairytale that the meek shall inherit the Earth has never bothered to read the most recent GOP tax proposal.

• I enjoy watching movies about people who would never dream of watching movies. I enjoy watching #CaptainFantastic

• On way to Greater Latrobe Senior High to address aspiring writers wondering how much time the kid I used to be would spend mocking the man he's bound to become.

• Watching far right conservatives argue with far left liberals about the direction of the country is like watching the Old Testament argue with the New Testament about the direction of the Bible.

• The Rolling Stones today have more greatest hits albums (14) than most bands have great hits.

• How would today's Match.com profiles differ if men today resumed judging women on how good they'd be around a cow?

• I hope my life extends into an enlightened age where donors are so wise, so giving, that worthy non-profits become profits.

• I hate to be one of those guys who blames Bob Nutting for everything, but I can't help but believe if the Pittsburgh Pirates had been leading the World Series 2 games to 1 on Saturday nobody in Pittsburgh would have felt like killing anybody.  

• I wouldn't want to be involved in anything that would cause pain in others or certainly myself but I'd just once like to be part of a brave mission where our leader said, "Gentlemen, we now must synchronize our watches." I wonder if bowlers ever synchronize their watches.

• It’s unfathomable to imagine how much better off the world would be if every time we felt moved by a good intention we acted on it.

• I’d never dare google it, but from what I know about internet content and priorities, I can pretty much guarantee there's at least one long, stiff penis-shaped instrument designed to assist men who have difficulty putting on footware and it's called "Shoe Horney!”

Related …

Best October ’17 tweets

October ’16

October ’15

October ’14

Catching up on the Ashley Madison scandal

(628 words)

I want to preempt exposure on Ashley Madison hack lists by announcing my eagerness to cheat.

The randy initiative burst through just last night when I saw hundreds of men and women — kids, too! — doing it right there in the grass.

They were having a ball.

Actually, they had about 50 balls.

Shame-free orgy?

No, they were playing catch on the PNC Park outfield after the Bucs 4-1 win over the Arizona Diamondbacks.

They were doing the kind of shagging that would be a cruel disappoint to Austin Powers.

It looked like so much fun.

I’d never heard news of this splendid promotion. I didn’t know who these happy strangers were or how they got lucky enough to scramble out on the outfield of the most beautiful ballpark in America to toss the ball around.

Playing a game of catch is maybe the second most glorious things two consenting adults can one-on-one do together.

Care to guess what’s first?

I can’t get either Val or my daughters, ages 14 and 9, to play catch with me. So sign me up if there’s ever an Ashley Madison with the tag line: “Life’s short. Play catch with a stranger!”

Of course, I owe it to my readers to take a bold stand on Ashley Madison.

How do I feel about cheating? Am I ever tempted? How would I react if my spouse’s name was released on the cheater list?

You deserve to hear me issue honest answers to these salient questions.

And I vow to provide that candor the instant there’s irrefutable proof my darling wife no longer reads this stupid blog.

Come September, we’ll have been married 19 years, long enough that younger men on the precipice of matrimony have actually asked me for advice, which I freely bestow.

I start these counseling sessions by asking these young romantics the question: “If marriage is so great, how come God is still single?”

Talk about Mr. Right. When it comes to eligible bachelors, even the great Derek Jeter is a distant second.

I don’t think newlyweds understand how little nuance there is in that part of the wedding vows that insist betrothed couples must now forsake all others.

The clause includes precious little wiggle room. You can’t make exceptions if you’re drunk, horny, lonely, feeling scorned, available or looking especially sexy in that pretty new peek-a-boo dress.

It’s why the country music genre is such an enduring money maker.

I think most people get hitched believing in their heart of hearts they’ll never cheat, but if they do, they believe they’re marrying a person who will, of course, be understanding if he or she happens to stumble. This same person — hallelujah — is so divinely faithful he or she would never dream of cheating.

In fact, most people eventually learn they are married to emotional human beings just like themselves, people who will think of severing things more carnal than a relationship if they find out they’ve been cheating. 

Of course, I’m looking forward to reading all the salacious details about the hypocritical family-values celebrities — thank you, Josh Duggar! — but hope our neighbors will be understanding about the human failings of those who slip.

I like it anytime events take a whack at the Puritanical underpinnings upon which so much of America is based.

But there’s bound to be some necessary soul-searching from people who think they can get away with something that means so much to someone they say they love.

If you’re one of those people and are feeling tempted, you’re welcome to get in touch with me. We can hook up.

Bring a baseball and a mitt.

You and I will together enjoy the kind of pastime where getting caught actually makes playing all the more satisfying.

Related . . .

How come there’s no Mrs. God?

What happened when I spent 72 hours handcuffed to Val

I cry over commercials (farewell, Capt’n Jeter!)

A great day for baseball … let’s play 2! Or 3!

I play Centerfield

Playing skyline Scrabble in Pittsburgh

I gaze upon the spectacular skyline of Pittsburgh and think of board games. Not Monopoly, as you might expect or other pastimes involving skyscrapers and property values.

Nope. I think of Scrabble.

I think how can I take all these massive letters littering the view and string together some words to express my contempt.

Travel experts routinely include Pittsburgh among the list of the most beautiful cities in the world. It also does well in literacy rankings.

It ought to. You can’t stare at the photogenic city without being forced to read the names of all the corporations intent on making their names even more ubiquitous.

There’s UPMC, BNY MELLON, HIGHMARK, K&L GATES, CITIZENS BANK, FEDERATED and on and on and on.

Of course, it’s mostly done in that ANNOYING ALL CAPS style that never fails to tick off us connoisseurs of subtlety.

Where did it all begin?

Blame PNC Park (more evidence of disgraceful corporate naming shenanigans).

It’s the jewel-like ballpark along the north shore banks of the Allegheny River and home to the Pittsburgh Pirates -- and let’s save picking on them and whipping boy owner Bob Nutting for another day.

When the park opened in 2000, architectural critics immediately hailed it as the most beautiful in America. Magazines featured lavish hitter’s eye view pictures from home plate.

It dazzles still. There’s the diamond, the lush outfield, and soaring in the background across the river the mingled mix of old and new, brick and glass, rustic and refined that combine to make the city’s dynamic skyline.

The park is magnificent enough to be a popular site for elegant weddings. I attended one of them -- best of everything always to Howard and Mary! -- and I couldn’t have had a more splendid time.

The food was sumptuous and the appointments exquisite. And as for the view from the club level lounges, well, Will and Kate should have had it so good.

In 10 years, the vista has become the second most photographed spot in Pittsburgh, second only to the sublime shot of the city from atop Mt. Washington.

But whenever you point a camera at anything in America today there’s always bound to be a marketing guru ready to spring into the viewfinder intent on waving the name of some insurance company to spoil the scenery.

That’s what happened in Pittsburgh. Because of baseball and its designation to host often high-profile events like the G-20 in 2009, the city is frequently featured in the national news.

That’s good. I want people everywhere to know why I love Pittsburgh.

But in an age that exaggerates the importance of name recognition over accomplishment -- think Charlie Sheen or Donald Trump -- corporate overlords sensed opportunity.

They instigated a rash of placing their neon names atop once majestic skyscrapers Pittsburghers already instinctively knew.

It’d be like if our neighbors got BOB and SUE tattooed on their foreheads to remind us of their existence.

And where do they get all these giant letters?

Is there a big letter store somewhere you call and place an order?

“Yeah, I need an M, an E, two Ls, an O and an N sent over to Grant Street. What’s that? You’re running a special on Qs? I know a VP over at COMQUEST. Let me see if he’ll go in with me. OK?”

I imagine delivery of all these letters coming down the interstate on the back of a trailer would look like some PBS learn-to-read special or maybe a page from the colorful children’s book, “CHICK-A-CHICK-A BOOM! BOOM!”

I’m always tempted to tinker with the sign lettering down at the local elementary school so instead of a cheerfully educational slogan about reading it'll say something like, “WE ROAST CHILDREN HERE!”

But the obnoxious corporate branding of the city I love has me thinking of something more monumental.

I’m going to get a helicopter and surreptitiously maneuver it around the city until I can fix some of the massive letters together in a sign that reads: “THIS LOOKS REALLY CHEESY!”

I’ll just have to be careful I don’t inadvertently contribute to the problem by stringing the letters up atop a building that houses Kraft Foods.

Pittsburgh, City of Champions, will win

Sometime soon the NFL will demonstrate its commitment to competitive equality by forcing the Rooney family to sell the Pittsburgh Steelers to Pirate owner Bob Nutting.

I think that’s what it’ll take to level the playing field that has now for four decades been dominated by the Black ‘n’ Gold.

Today will be the eighth Super Bowl involving the Steelers in the 45 years they’ve been playing the game. The Steelers are 6-1 prior to today’s kickoff.

During that same time, the city has won two World Series championships (pre-Bob Nutting’s involvement) and three NHL Stanley Cups.

That’s afforded perpetually immature men like me 13 opportunities to defect from reality and pretend we have a vested interest in the home team success.

It’s surreal.

No other city even comes close. The only cities with comparable achievements (Los Angeles, 13; Boston, 12; and New York, 12) are disqualified because each of their championship tallies are tainted by departed franchises (New York Giants, 3) and victories in professional basketball, which I don’t consider a sport.

Every other sport requires athletic ability. All you need to succeed in basketball is freakish height.

Sure, the sport involves some good athletes, but if you or I woke up tomorrow and had a growth spurt that left us 7-foot-8 inches tall, guaranteed, some NBA team would make us instant millionaires. Why? Simply because we’re tall.

So, sorry, LA with your 11 Laker Championships, get in line.

Too bad, Boston. Your six Celtic rings might as well be Crackerjacks toys.

And no will dispute that the most important morale boosting victory any city can enjoy is the Super Bowl.

Right or wrong, it is the big enchilada.

Only two teams have won five (no teams have won four). Four teams have never even won one.

Pittsburgh tonight is contending for its seventh.

And it expects to win.

The police are feeding the riot horses extra oats for tonight’s bus-tipping revelry and Pittsburgh City Schools have already announced a two-hour delay to Monday’s school start to allow staff and students the chance to sleep it off

When the schools did this in 2009, national commentators howled this set a terrible example for hungover Pittsburgh students and showed just how out of touch the city is from conventional priorities, as if pandering to the sports obsessed in America could ever backfire.

I thought it was brilliant and suspect we’ve already seen a stealthy influx of families who’ve moved their children to Pittsburgh just so they could sufficiently recover from future Super Bowl victories.

I call them Steeler sleeper cells.

Of course, this Pittsburgh run could end at any minute. For years, we’ve said, gee, this could be the last one.

I no longer think so. The key pieces to this run will remain in place for at least the next five years.

In that time, we could have twice the number of Super Bowl victories as the second most accomplished teams.

Today, Pittsburgh gets a leg up on that ascension and they’re going to do it in convincing fashion.

Pittsburgh 37, Green Bay 10.

Tweet of the week @8days2amish: “Astronaut Mark Kelly decides to leave wife Gabby Giffords' side to fly Space Shuttle. It’s understandable. Married men need their space.”

When I'm mayor of Pittsburgh

I was reminded again this weekend that one of these days I really should get around to running for mayor of Pittsburgh.

Really, I can’t imagine anyone doing a better job of showing off the city. 

I do it all the time, but this past weekend’s always my Pittsburghpalooza. It’s when I have about a dozen buddies come to town to watch a Steeler game.

They’re true New Yorkers. They love the Big Apple, as do I. But to a man (and a woman or two), they rave about Pittsburgh, its restaurants, its views, its teams and all it has to offer.

One of them, a New York limo driver to A-list stars, says if he ever wins the lottery, he’s not moving to the Caribbean. He’s moving to Pittsburgh.

He means it.

And, ahem, that’s mostly because of me. I know the city well enough to entertain them by taking them places only the most convivial locals know. 

Over the past 10 years, they’ve made friends with bartenders at Penn Brewery, Roland’s, Jack’s, the Original Oyster House and dozens of dives too notorious for decent folk to visit.

We’ve dined at LeMont, Monterrey Bay, Vincent’s Pizza, Jo-Jo’s, Sonoma Grill and on Saturday had a wonderful meal at Six Penn Kitchen, one of the city’s best.

They’ve relaxed by the out-of-the-way shower fountain that runs beneath the convention center, enjoyed river jaunts on the Gateway Clipper and drank in the magnificent view of the Golden Triangle from atop Mt. Washington.

As mayor, I’d have key to the city advantages and a wider reach to promote the city I love.

I’m sure in one term, I could have people around the world talking about Pittsburgh like they do Paris.

First off, I’d need to get Pittsburghers as excited about the city as I am. Right now, they are not. They take it for granted.

Here’s what I’d do to change that and get everyone on the same page. I understand some of this might be extreme, but it would benefit city business establishments, tax revenues and city psyches. Alas, even Pittsburgh has its share of fun-resistant people. They need to be dragged into the party for their own good.

Feel free to apply these to your own home cities. Most of them can work anywhere.

• Randomly close the bridges and city exits for 48 hours every couple of months. This is what corporate types call team building. It did wonders for the Chilean miners and none of them had access to great restaurants, taverns, entertainment and lodging. Lock people in the city for 48 hours and employees who flee for the suburbs every night would be forced to take advantage of the recreational opportunities available downtown.

• Turn the West End Bridge into the famous “Coathanger” bridge over Sydney Harbor. No pedestrians ever go near the most scenic bridge in the city. Crossing the Ohio River and looking directly back at the Golden Triangle, the soaring West End Bridge resembles the famous Australian landmark that’s a magnet for BridgeClimb tourists. It would be an easy engineering feat to construct stairs over the arch and would provide one of the most dynamic tourist vistas in all America. Heck, put a restaurant on top of the bridge while you’re at it.

• Mandatory 35 hour work weeks. This isn’t to ensure underemployed people work more. It’s to ensure over-employed big shots work less. People who work 60 or more hours a week are often our most affluent. We don’t need these people working late and going home exhausted. We need them in the bars buying drinks for underemployed guys like me.

• Declare eminent domain on Bob Nutting’s office and throw him the hell out of it. There is no greater civic shame than the sad and enduring state of the Pittsburgh Pirates. The city’s crown jewel is lovely PNC Park, a baseball diamond so luscious it’s become a top spot for picky brides seeking elegant wedding venues. A competitive Pirate team and sell out crowds televised nationwide would do more for the city’s image than four dozen conventions.

• Student discounts at every restaurant every Friday. Pittsburgh’s home to many great university’s, including Pitt, Carnegie Mellon, Duquesne and Point Park (where I’ve been flattered to teach kids about commas). Students from all over the country come to these schools. We need to ensure they graduate and stay.

• Mandatory shifts at Primanti’s for everyone. It’s our landmark restaurant, the one with the sandwiches with the fries and slaw right on the bun. It’s perfectly Pittsburgh. If everyone had to work at least one shift there, they’d understand the essence of the city and people who call it home. Plus, guaranteed, it’d be a lot of fun.

• Trash collection contests. Every city could benefit from a program that required residents to pick up the trash they stumble over on the sidewalks. Have attendants at handy collection sites dispense restaurant coupons for people who pick up the most trash.

• Balance the budget by auctioning off the opportunity to do chores for Mario Lemieux. Guaranteed, there a lot of guys in town who’d be willing to pay $100 to brag they got to take Mario’s trash out to the curb.

• Homeless guy “Survivor.” Every single office of big shots must adopt a homeless person and make a project of turning their lives around with the goal of finding him or her a job and place to live. The office squad that succeeds in conducting the most remarkable transformation in six months gets free weekends at one of our city’s fine hotels.

• Anyone taking public transportation must take turns leading the other passengers in song. City buses and subways are unnecessarily grim. It wouldn’t be so if everyone had to sing a couple of stanzas of their favorite tunes. 

• When he’s not running the Pittsburgh Steelers, Mike Tomlin runs everything else. There’s no more charismatic motivator than Coach Tomlin. I’d like to see how PennDOT construction workers fared after one weekend of exposure to the carrot and stick Tomlin so deftly applies to the Steelers.

Plus, with Tomlin running Pittsburgh, I’d be free to do what I do best.

Go out and just enjoy it.