Reporter Scoop Chevelle gives his review of the winter meetings.

Weather – The weather is warm enough that you could walk around in just your underwear.  In theory.

Accomodations – I’ve always had a high opinion of Hilton, but they shit the bed on this one.  They refused to honor my Groupon from Hillton Hotels, which is clearly an affiliated company. Then they yelled “get some clothes on and get the hell out of here”.  Whatever happened to “the customer is always right”?  I’m going to Yelp about this.  Zero stars.  I ended up at the Motel 9, which is a very high class joint.  The morning jog to the convention center is good exercise.

Food – I was told there would be nachos.  There were not nachos.  Instead, there were fake nachos – white corn tortilla chips instead of the yellow corn tortilla chips that any red blooded American knows are essential to nachos.  I was told there would be nachos.

Drinks – The convention center has thirteen different varieties of Coke, but didn’t have space for New Coke?  Next year I’ll have to bring a few cases from my private reserve so that I don’t have to go cold turkey during the winter meetings.  I was also unable to find any Schlitz.

Communications – Not a phone booth in site.  How are we supposed to communicate with the outside world – carrier pigeon?

Celebrities – I rubbed elbows with the father of sabometrics, Chris Sabo.  Seemed like a nice enough guy, but he doesn’t seem to remember inventing sabometrics while working as a guard at a bean plant.  Maybe too many beanballs have affected his memory.

Nightlife – Got pulled into a poker game with baseball legends Roberto Mejia, Kevin Maas, and R.J. Reynolds.  They needed a fourth guy for their game when the custodian got pulled away to unplug some shitters on the eighteenth floor.  I’m not much of a card player, but Maas lured me down to the basement with yellow corn tortilla chips and lovely melted cheese.  Mejia methodically separated me from my money while we sat bullshitting about trades.  Apparently there’s a deal brewering that would allow the Angels to restock their farm system by dealing Mike Trout to the Cubs.  That seems pretty crazy, but R.J. Reynolds doesn’t pinky swear unless he has rock solid information.  You heard it here first – Trout will be traded in the next two weeks.

Yutes – The place is overrun with yutes trying to get baseball jobs.  Talk about a sausage fest.  It’s almost as if Kim Ng’s inability to crack the glass ceiling is preventing smart women from seeking careers in baseball.

 

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