It seems the news is full of professional athletes acting bad, even some killing folks. Drug arrests, failed drug tests, beating their wives, DUIs ... you know, acting like folks in my neighborhood.
But the latest news concerning San Francisco Giants pitcher Chad Gaudin should win this year’s award for most impressive screw-up by a professional athlete. He might also win an award for doing what previously was thought to be impossible — that is, Gaudin was charged in Las Vegas with open and gross lewdness.
Do you know how hard it is to be considered lewd in Las Vegas? That’s like going to Bike Week in Daytona and being told you can’t participate because you aren’t dressed well enough. It’s like being at a rap concert and being asked to leave because you cuss too much.
You can walk down the streets of Las Vegas at 5 p.m. buck naked and I doubt anyone would bother to even glance or take a peek. It would not surprise me if people didn’t stop and ask you for directions, figuring you are probably one of the locals.
This is a city founded by gangsters. Prostitution is legal there, unlike here, where you have to drive around in a seedy neighborhood for two hours and hope that Geraldine doesn’t turn out to be Gerald. There are flyers everywhere advertising various acts that would make Larry Flynt blush.
But, somehow, some way ol’ Chad managed to still end up with a mug shot suitable for framing.
So, what did Chad do? According to police reports Chad was, and now please give me a drum roll and a marching band, drunk at 4:30 a.m. Amazing how the common thread of drunk and late-night activity seem to always rear their ugly heads in these type family stories that will be told, and retold, over the years at holiday gatherings, or in this case, probably by his wife in divorce court, because poor ol’ Chad got married in 2011.
In case you are wondering and also are brain dead, she was not with him on this fateful night.
Chad entered a Desert Springs Hospital and, again according to the report, “approached a 23-year-old woman on a gurney, told her she was gorgeous and then touched her face and breast.”
Before I go further, I guess it should be noted that there should be some consolation for the young lady in knowing that, even on a gurney in the emergency room, she qualified as “gorgeous.” Of course, on the other hand, at this point I suspect an orangutan would have been gorgeous to Chad.
Not surprising, the reports says Chad “didn’t know how he got in the hospital, had slurred speech and could not say where he lived.” He was also “yelling profanity.”
Now back in my day, if indeed I really ever had a “day,” I tried various places to pick up women. I read one should go to the produce section of the grocery store. I never did fully understand why good looking women could be found there, but I tried. I did become really good friends with Charlie the meat market manager, but, alas, I did not pick up any women.
I heard one should join a book club or a spinning exercise class. I tried the old standby bar room scene and the beach, even bringing a puppy along as advised by Playboy. I spent most of the day picking up dog poop, but no women.
But in all my efforts, not once — let me repeat: not a single dog-gone time — did I think about going to the emergency room to pick up a date.
But, Chad did.
Yep, get them while they are vulnerable and maybe even under the effects of pain killers.
Well, they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas — unless like Chad you end up on the front page. I hope he has an understanding wife, a good lawyer and a long-term baseball contract.
Contact columnist T. Gamble at email@example.com.