Musings: Modesty, Thy Name is Trump

By Dick Flavin
Boston Red Sox Poet Laureate
and New York Times Best Selling Author

MODESTY, THY NAME IS TRUMP

A word about our president. He is certainly to be commended for his modest demeanor
and unassuming ways.

Only last week he turned down the opportunity to be named Time Magazine’s Person of
the Year when the offer hadn’t even been made. Call it a pre-emptive strike. He was not
about to be blind-sided by the award as he was year ago when the magazine sneakily
foisted it upon him. He was so busy fending off congratulations on his unexpected,
especially by him, election to the presidency that Time caught him completely off-guard.
Otherwise, knowing of his natural inclination to shun the spotlight, we can be assured
that he would have taken steps to have the honor given to someone else, say Jeb Bush
(anyone remember Jeb Bush?).

In refusing the offer which had never been made this year the President cited his
unwillingness to be interviewed by Time and to sit for a photograph. Small wonder,
considering how publicity-shy he is.

So adamant is the President against being singled out by Time that several years ago he
posed for a ficticious Time cover and had the photograph distributed to and
conspicuously hung in several of his golf clubs as an example of just the kind of thing he
wants to avoid. You can’t make your intentions any more explicitly known than that.

Lest anyone be left with the erroneous impression that his turning down the unmade offer
of Person of the Year has anything to do with supposed negative feelings toward the
news media, the President has within recent days proposed the creation of a trophy to be
awarded to a news outlet of his choice. Granted, it would be called the Fake News
Trophy, but, with his own production of the bogus Time cover as a standard, it is
doubtful that anyone will reach that lofty level of fakery.

I say give him a break. He’s a shy, retiring person who just wants to be left alone.
Hopefully that day will come. I, for one, can hardly wait.

In the interest of full disclosure I must admit that I have taken a page out of the
President’s playbook. I decided to signal my intention not to have my name included this
year on the Baseball Hall of Fame ballot. I did not use twitter as a means to transmit my
wishes, I merely shook my head “no” imperceptively whenever I was in the presence of a
Hall of Fame official. The fact that I was never in the presence of a Hall of Fame official
is beside the point, as is the fact that I never played baseball beyond the sandlot level, and
I stunk back then. The word obviously got out because, sure enough, my name is not included on the Hall of Fame ballot. I can only conclude that the Trump Manuever works.

If you go to Cooperstown, New York next summer for the induction of new Hall of Fame
members, do not expect to see me standing on the podium between Chipper Jones and
Jim Thome. And I’ll owe it all to Donald Trump. That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

It is also my fervent wish not to have my name included in the list of prominent people
who died in 2017. So far, so good.

Besides, I am reliably informed that my name would never be included in any list that
includes in its title the words “prominent people,” dead or alive.