So I went to the final game at Yankee Stadium, and as I walked in, I bought a copy of the souvenir program. I leafed through it with my practiced editor’s eye, and everything seemed to be very well done until I reached an article about the people who worked at the stadium — vendors, ushers, security guards, grounds crew, etc. The article looked interesting, but I was distressed by the identity of the author: Keith Olbermann.
And damned if it didn’t turn out to be a good article after all. Olbermann recalls the late 1960s and early 1970s, the last years of the original stadium, when his affluent family had box seats near the first-base dugout. As regulars, they got to know some of the workers in that part of the ballpark, whom Olbermann evokes calmly and affectionately. As a bonus, there are several pictures of his cute kid sister. Overall, it makes a very rewarding read.
Until you get to the end, where Olbermann reveals a shameful episode out of his sordid past. On the old stadium’s final weekend, a groundskeeper named Moe conducts him through the catacombs to a dusty old room, where he furtively hands young Keith a gift — a base that had been used in an actual Yankee game. Knowing that it belongs to the team, Moe wraps it up in brown paper and cautions Olbermann to keep it hidden. And Olbermann manages to sneak it out of the park, trembling all the while.
So there you have it: Keith Olbermann, criminal. He openly admits to stealing the Yankees’ property, yet today he has the presumption, unparalleled in the history of our nation, to preach to others about honesty and fairness. You, sir, are a disgrace to the journalistic profession!
(Yes, I know this item is pretty weak. But if Kevin could win the gold medal for Worst Person in the World with this, I should at least qualify for silver.)