A Warped Sense of Loyalty

As I mentioned in my previous post, I saw my former boss and had, what I thought, was a nice conversation. Imagine my surprise when I got back to New York on Tuesday and found this in my email:

It was nice seeing you last night, though I was disappointed that you appeared to have soured on the museum and -I expect- me as well.

We had some good years together, for sure. You were my "ace." But then that dynamic changed. Perhaps I had something to do with that. Perhaps you did, too. And perhaps the circumstance of life got in the way.

But now it seems you are no longer a friend of the museum, bonding instead with other ex-museumers, and that's a shame, because being a Museumer is a good thing, I think. The museum has lots of very good and dedicated people working in its behalf, and they have made something that is unique and precious to America's sports community.

But having made that unique something means we now have to protect that something. And that sometimes is very difficult. I am in one of those difficult periods. Some days I wonder why I keep going with this. The climb towards respectability is steep and difficult. People like you helped me with that climb. People like Johnny Z and Ritchie and Greg and Doug and even your J continue to help.

I guess my hope is that someday you will see clearly beyond the personal stacatto that drove you from our nest, and know that you have friends here, that the Museum is something special and worth preserving...and worth, in my case, donating a career to. Every day I go in there trying my best, even though many of those days I end up giving something less.

Yesterday...and last night, was one of those days.

I hope the next time you come down you will give me advance notice. Perhaps then you will let me buy you a drink or two and talk like the friends we used to be.

mike

I was beyond livid. How dare he question my friendship and belief in the museum, just because I happen to be friends with people who have also moved on? I felt like shit (because of my sore throat) but called him at home. How dare he speak to me like that? Of course, he wasn't home, and after having some niceties with his wife, waited for him to call me back. It didn't happen for a couple days. He called me at home, in the middle of the work day. Good thing I was sick, and home. Because he didn't get off that easy.

I told him I was livid, that I thought he had a warped sense of loyalty to question mine. That if I wasn't a friend to the museum I wouldn't write them membership dues each year, that I wouldn't get upset when I got the newsletter because it looked like shit. That of course led into a conversation of why it looked so bad, so I told him -- the last few have been riddled with inconsistencies in grammar and layout, that the content was weak, that stories about upcoming events were coming out after the fact, etc. He took it all in stride. I think because he could hear how riled up I was.

I called him on the ex-Museumer line -- and threw it back at him. He has lost good people -- so many volunteers that would have taken a bullet for that place, don't even go down there anymore. And that, I blamed on him, for allowing his manipulative staff to run people out. He agreed that he had a problem with Bitch-stine, that she was causing trouble, but unfortunately had some board members in her back pocket. I tried not to gloat when I said, "I'm sorry to hear that, but not surprised. I told you when we had drinks before I left to watch your back with her."

I also told him that any bitterness or ill feelings I once held for the museum were related directly to her and the lies she spread about me after I left. He agreed she went too far. "So you knew about it. But did you defend me?" There was no answer on that one, but I expected nothing different.

He even went so far as to say that he'd love to get me back there (yea, that'll happen) -- to get some people out of there and bring back his "ace." Too little too late.

All in all, it felt good to get some stuff off my chest. But did he get it? Did he really get it?

Doubtful. And until he does, I worry about that museum, and that collection, and the legacy of the greatest home run hitter of all time. Unfortunately, I'm not the Babe's keeper anymore and I need to let go.