Mattingly’s Arbitration Grand Slam: $1.975 Million : Sure, but Can All That Money Really Buy Happiness or Hits?

“Hi, honey, I’m home!”

“Don, is that you?”

“Yes, dear.”

“How’d it go at work, sweetheart?”

“I got the raise.”

“You did! Oh, honey, I’m so proud of you.”

“But you didn’t even ask how much.”

“It doesn’t matter, Donny. Five dollars or 50, I’m always gonna love you.”

“Well, they raised my pay to $1.975 million.”

“Oh, darling, that’s just wonderful. Little Debby can get those braces now. And Timmy can go to camp.”

“Baby, you’re the greatest.”

“Mr. Mattingly? How do you do? I’m Mr. Green of the finance department.”

“Hi.”

“Now then, I understand you’d like to purchase one of our fine automobiles.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, let’s just take a glance at your loan application here, shall we? I see you list your employer as ‘New York Yankees.’ ”

“That’s correct.”

“How interesting. That’s a baseball team, isn’t it? I’m afraid you’re not talking to much of a sports fan.”

“Yes, a baseball team.”

“All righty. And your salary is--let me see if I can read this correctly--oh, dear, $1,975 a year. Mr. Mattingly, I’m afraid that unless you have some adequate collateral, a loan for a $20,000 automobile is simply out of the question at this . . . “

“That’s not what I make.”

“Beg your pardon? Oh, did I misread the form? I’m terribly sorry. Let’s see here. ‘Salary, $1,975.000.’ Ah, is that your weekly salary? Well, well, well. That’s over a hundred thousand a year, then. That’s just fine!”

“Uh . . . “

“You were supposed to put your yearly salary here, Mr. Mattingly.”

“I did.”

“How’s that again?”

“One-point-nine-seven-five million. “

“Oh, my! I had heard you athletic persons made a lot of money, but I had no idea! Please forgive me.”

“Forget it.”

“But Mr. Mattingly, you’ve put the decimal point in the wrong place. This should be a comma, not a period. Here, let me fix this. One, comma, nine-seven-five, comma, zero, zero, zero, period, zero, zero.”

“Damn those decimal points. I never could get those things right.”

“It’s a common mistake.”

“Yeah, but it’s always causing me problems. The other day, the arbitrator asked me for a list of all my statistics from last season. I listed my average as 3.52.”

“Dear me.”

“The arbitrator started screaming at my agent: ‘This guy wants 2 million a year with an earned-run average of 3.52? ‘ “

“How embarrassing for you.”

“I’ll say. If I was a pitcher with an earned-run average of 3.52, the most they’d give me is one-point-eight million, tops.”

“That would be unfortunate.”

“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up. So, I can buy the car then?”

“My dear Mr. Mattingly, it gives me great pleasure to inform you that if you so desire, you could purchase 93.75 cars.”

“Nah, I ain’t greedy.”

“Hi, honey. I’m home.”

“Arvid, is that you?”

“Yes, dear.”

“How’d it go, Arv?”

“I gave it to him.”

“You didn’t!”

“One-point-nine-seven-five million. I gave it to him.”

“Oh, honey.”

“I had to. I couldn’t not give it to him. They gave $1.875 million to a damn pitcher the other day.”

“There, there, Arv. Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you have any idea how long it would take me to make $1.975 million?”

“Arv, honey.”

“Until the year 2525, that’s how long it would take me to make $1.975 million.”

“Come on, Arv, I’ve got a nice dinner on the stove.”

“The President of the United States would need to be in office a whole damn decade to make $1.975 million.”

“I know, honey.”

“Joe DiMaggio would have had to play 20 more years to make $1.975 million.”

“It’s all right, babe.”

“Ivan Boesky didn’t even make $1.975 million on inside stock tips.”

“Calm down, sweetheart.”

“How can Don Mattingly make 10 times more a year than the President of the United States?”

“Don Mattingly had a better year than the President of the United States.”

“What?”

“Nothing, honey.”

“Hello again, everybody, I’m Phil Rizzuto . . . . Here’s Don Mattingly to open the seventh inning for the Yanks . . . . Mattingly is 0 for 3 today, continuing that horrendous slump he’s in . . . . I’ve never seen anything exactly like it . . . . Two months now without a hit! Who woulda believed it? . . . Here’s the pitch from Witt. SWING and a miss! . . . Boy, does this poor kid need a hit right now. These fans are really on him . . . . He’s tried just about everything. He’s tried pulling the ball and spraying it to all fields. He’s tried choking up and gripping the bat at the bottom. He’s tried everything from a 32-ounce bat to a 42-ounce bat. He’s tried two batting gloves, one glove and no glove. He’s tried pine tar, talcum powder and Krazy Glue. He’s tried hypnotism, exorcism, vegetarianism and acupuncture . And still no hits . . . . Witt winds and delivers. SWING and a miss! . . . O and 2 now on Don Mattingly, still looking for that first hit of the season . . . . What incredible pressure there must be on this young man now--going 56 consecutive games without a hit! Unbelievable! His teammates tell me his hair is falling out in clumps. . . . The fans are really giving it to him now. They want their money’s worth . . . . Mattingly digs in. This slump is bound to end some time. Here’s the 0-2 pitch. SWING . . . !”