Charity Begins at Home If Sparky Is Involved

An open letter to Sparky Anderson:

Dear Sparky,

Can we talk?

You don’t know me, and that’s your loss. My name is Mel Shyster, agent to the stars. Or, as I’m known in the business, Money-Grabbing Mel.

I was in the Westlake Plaza Hotel on Friday night and wandered into the Grand Ballroom. (Wandering is a euphemism for sneaking in. After all, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.) Anyway, I found myself in the audience for the first Sparky Anderson Roast.

Pretty impressive.

Your boss, Tom Monaghan, owner of the Detroit Tigers, was there. So was club President Jim Campbell. And catcher Rick Dempsey. And entertainer Tommy Newsom.

And about 400 other folks who shelled out $50 a ticket to pay tribute to you.

Not bad.

But then, you’ve never had trouble drawing a crowd. As manager of the Cincinnati Reds during the glory days of the Big Red Machine and in your current position as manager of the Tigers, you’ve certainly made a mark in the game. You are the only manager to win the world championship in both leagues and the only one to win 100 games in both.

And yet here you were, spending a Friday night near your Thousand Oaks home, attending a dinner set up to supply scholarship money for the baseball program at nearby California Lutheran University.

Someone next to me told me this was the third Sparky Anderson event for CLU since your season ended, after a golf tournament in November and a baseball card show last month.

Enough already.

Look, I’ve heard the whole story. How you talked a friend, then-assistant CLU baseball Coach Al Schoenberger, into taking the head coaching job at the school when it became vacant in 1979. How you pledged to help him fund his program and have done so ever since. How you’ve rounded up truckloads of balls, bats and gloves during your travels around the major leagues and shipped them to Cal Lutheran to be auctioned off at fund-raisers like the one last night. How more than $80,000 has been raised to provide scholarships for a small program that cannot possibly compete with the UCLAs and the USCs of the world. How Cal Lutheran has, in the Schoenberger years, had nine players drafted by the big leagues, produced six All-Americans, been in the playoffs every season, been to the NAIA Division I championship game four of Schoenberger’s seven years and how the Kingsmen have a winning percentage of .610 under his leadership.

Great stuff.

But now, Sparky baby, you’ve got to ask yourself, what’s in it for you?

And that’s where I come in.

Now I’ve got nothing against Cal Lutheran. Seems like a nice enough school. Nice people.

But you’re wasting your time, Sparky boy. You’ve got an identifiable face. Cash in on it. Why waste your off-season showing your face around the Westlake Plaza?

We can plaster it on television screens, billboards and magazine covers all over this country. We can get you eating chicken, putting on deodorant or drinking beer with Rodney.

We’re talking big bucks.

Did you see the money flashing around at the Westlake Plaza last night? People shelled out $425 for a bat signed by all of the New York Mets, $400 for the same kind of bat from the Boston Red Sox and another $400 for a Pete Rose ball and bat, with all the money going to Cal Lutheran.

You missed another payday, pal.

I know, I heard your speech. You’ve grown up in Southern California, always lived here and are always looking for ways to put something back into the community. I heard what you said last night: If you always know where you came from, you’ll always know where you’re going.

If you want to come along with me, baby, we’ll be going to the bank.

I see you lost your catcher this week. Lance Parrish decided to go elsewhere rather than try to make ends meet on just $2.5 million for two years. There’s a boy who’s getting some good advice.

Remember what another famous manager, Leo Durocher, once said: Nice guys finish last.

Think it over.

Oh, and if you’re not interested, could you send me Lance’s number?

Your pal,

Mel