CHIN MUSIC !!
Poor Margo!
Poor Margo!
After all these years, the classic "Penthouse" Adams/Boggs scandal account is unearthed on the internet. Now I know why people joke about the "articles" in this magazine (hint: it's not JUST about the pictures.)
I'd like to thank (I think) Bill Simmons (Boston Sports Guy) for unearthing this classic in one of his links. While a good read, a big problem is that there are no likable characters here. As I waded through it, I realized I detested everyone involved, but perhaps no one more than the writer, whose empathy for the Margo camp gets beyond inane and crosses over into revolting. I know the story is 13 years old, dead and buried, but now that it's here, I just had to comment (liberally) on this piece of tripe. The idiot factor here is just too great to leave it alone. Please don't mistake the sheer stupidity I've tried to illuminate for a moralistic commentary, as it's not meant to be one.
I'd also recommend this article (with or without my commentary) as required reading for all Major League rookies.
On November 11, 1988, a judge in Southern California ruled that a $12 million lawsuit filed against Wade Boggs of the Boston Red Sox by Margo Adams, a Southern California mortgage banker, had enough merit to head toward trial. Their romance (uh-huh) stunned the baseball community and had reporters across the country in a front-page frenzy. Headlines nationwide splashed details of how one of baseball's greatest hitters led a double life. With five batting titles since 1983 and four All-Star game appearances, experts consider Wade Boggs to be the best hitter in baseball, frequently placing him in the same class as Ty Cobb and the game's all-time heroes (and schmucks.)
In 1988, Boggs had his sixth-consecutive season with 200 or more hits, a feat never accomplished by Cobb, Babe Ruth, or any other player. While traveling with his mistress on 64 road trips (ah...excessive record-keeping - the stuff that lawsuits are made of!) during four seasons, Boggs was able to preserve a semblance of a happy marriage and home in Boston. Adams, known throughout baseball as the (self-titled)pseudonymous Mrs. Wade Boggs, met Boggs at the beginning of the '84 baseball season. After a month of his persistent courtship (giggle!), they embarked on a love (uh-huh)affair set against the backdrop of major-league baseball.
For four years Adams breathed the rarefied air of a sport watched and followed by more than 100 million people every year. (Does this make any sense?) While traveling with Wade and the Red Sox, she frequented night spots that were off-limits to players' wives (like strip joints? and she would want to do this, uh, why? Going to a strip club with my...er..."boyfriend" and his pals sure sounds like my kinda date! OR is this supposed to mean that Ms. Adams was "really tight" with all the guys.. that she somehow "bonded" with them over these naked, female jello-wrestling matches or what have you?), heard stories that never made the papers, and saw the scandals that will shock even the most perceptive observer of the game (that's what this writer thinks <snork>).
She had a clear view of the all-American game in the harsh spotlight of reality—where wins and losses finished second to infidelity and racial stereotypes, and where runs, hits, and errors became less prevalent than partying, groupies (like Margo), and various childish antics (like Margo's). America first heard of the(latest...certainly not "THE") scandal that shook baseball in July 1988, when Adams learned through Red Sox players that Boggs was seeing other women. (What a shocker! *Other* women?? How *dare* he? OH, the NERVE!) Eventually their breakup led Adams to file a $6 million lawsuit (later upgraded to $12 million) against Boggs, after monthlong negotiations failed to bring an amicable settlement (he must mean ANY settlement. "Amicability" hardly seems relevant --nor does it seem even remotely *attainable* - here.)
I telephoned Adams for five months, attempting to gain her confidence (because we all know what a *private* person she is!). Not until I read the lawsuit and spoke (off the record) with several major-league baseball players did I realize the validity and magnitude (magnitude? You can't be serious - there are starving children in the world...wait -- oh yeah, this is Penthouse) of this story. And only after talking with Boggs's family, friends, and teammates (all of whom knew Adams well - the lucky sons of guns!) and Adams's family and friends (all of whom knew Boggs well - ditto for them) did I ask Adams to let me write her story.
Except for an occasional interview given only to counter allegations made by Boggs (uh-huh! oh, poor Margo!) Adams decided to go into hiding (for reasons that had nothing whatsoever, I'm certain, to do with her own behavior). She had to change her phone number three times because of obscene and threatening callers. (Not that I'd condone obscene calls, but: aww) I have listened repeatedly to those calls captured by her answering machine, searching for their reason, each with the same message: "Stay away from a book, or else." ("Searching for their reason?" Is this guy serious? The message seems pretty to-the-point, no?) And although the callers seem to be different, each gave a chilling account of very private times shared by Adams and Boggs, personal details of their romance only a few people could know. (Gee, ya think maybe Wade was disguising his voice? Either that or... someone must have kissed and told! What a SHOCKER!)
On many occasions during their relationship, Adams struggled (aww) with the reality of Boggs being married to another woman, a woman who was at his home in Boston taking care of his two children. But during the time they spent together, Boggs made Adams feel as if she was the one he loved and wanted to be married to—at least that was what his words and actions always told her. (uh...NOT. His ACTIONS most clearly told her he was married to someone else but liked to fool around. I don't see any confusion.)
The emotional roller coaster began when Debbie Boggs (ah, the evil* Mrs. Boggs) (Wade's legal wife) ("legal wife?" a tad redundant, no?) found a travel itinerary belonging to Adams in an issue of Penthouse magazine (ok, I give up...why was Debbie Boggs "reading" Penthouse? And nooo, *I* never saw this article until today, on the web. Nevermind, let's not go there). Suspecting Boggs was up to his old tricks, an irate Debbie attempted several times over the next few days to reach Adams through her travel agency (ok Debbie, you bagged him -(sigh)- *again*- ...but did you *really* want to talk to Margo?). Adams never returned her calls, later learning that Boggs had confessed to his wife. He explained it by saying it was nothing more than a one-night stand—a cover Adams and Boggs lived under for four years. (A cover? Sounds to me like Wade got it about right in his explanation, except that it was more like a *series* of one-night stands with the same person. Can you say "fuck-buddy?" ...or how about "mistress?")
Adams asked Boggs for nothing more than to help her get her life in order (and Wade should've felt obligated to comply...um, WHY?), suggesting (uh-huh) that he pay her the $100,000 she claimed he'd offered her to make up for the wages she lost during their travels. It would be his way of giving her a fresh start. But when negotiations to end their relationship (since when is such a thing "negotiable?" He wanted to dump her. Big deal. If you want a divorce settlement, try getting married, just for starters) failed, Boggs contacted friends at the FBI to investigate an alleged extortion attempt by Adams. Shocked and angry that Boggs would use his influence to such extremes, she contacted her attorney. (Actually, she needed to call her lawyer anyway since she was, um -- *blackmailing* Wade and he called the cops on her.)
When Adams's lawsuit made their affair public knowledge, Boggs was not thrilled. He denied it on many occasions—an American hero would never do such a thing. (Has this writer been living in a cave?) But with each denial Adams released more proof, making Boggs look like the Joe Isuzu of all time (yeah, but what exactly was her case against him again? The case is apparently so damning that the author here never tells us what the grounds for it are). The media clamored for more details about one of the greatest scandals (a tad oxymoronic, no?) to hit the game. The publicity sparked a fight among Red Sox players while inspiring them to win the American League Eastern Division Championship (Is this writer crediting Margo's "inspiration" for the Division Championship? How insightful. I never would have made the connection...). Accounts revealed that Boggs carried on his extra-marital relationship in full view of his teammates, their wives, his agent, and other major-league baseball players (What a guy! He's *my* greatest American hero, all right!)
Since the filing of the lawsuit, Adams has had to defend herself to the media, her friends and family, and baseball fans everywhere(everybody now, say it with me: "AWWW"). Going public, she did a few short interviews with the hope of explaining her actions. But after doing the Phil Donahue show, Adams decided that the media just added fuel to the fire (meaning she couldn't talk her way out of things, and maybe even realized what a classic BIMBO she is), and she again went into hiding.
Adams thought about telling her story in a book, but found the idea to be as draining as the relationship itself had been (and why do all that icky "work" when she could just sue Wade for $$). She believed that Boggs would never acknowledge the intensity of their romance, nor would his brother, agent, teammates, or others throughout baseball (But all those evil* people were lying and only poor, innocent Margo was telling the truth, right?) So for the first time she has agreed to be interviewed in detail about the romance (uh-huh) that took baseball by storm—a romance that Debbie Boggs first learned about when she reached for that issue of Penthouse back in 1984.
When did you meet Wade Boggs?
April 2, 1984. A girlfriend and I had been out to dinner and it was a Monday night, so everyplace was kind of dead. We went to a place in Anaheim called Crackers (sounds like just the place for her). Right away, a guy came up and asked my friend to dance-and they disappeared. A few men asked me to dance and I said no (because she has such stellar judgement when it comes to men). There must have been about 15 men lined up at the bar. Then I saw Wade. I thought he was kind of cute. We were looking at each other. I noticed he had a wedding ring on ("but obviously that meant nothing at all - it went in one eye and out the other! <giggle>").
Did any of the other players approach you?
No. They were watching to see what I'd do (uh-huh...or so her over-inflated ego thought). My girlfriend came back with the guy she was dancing with. He introduced himself as Eddie Jurak. He said he was there with his teammates. Then some of the guys started to come up and join the three of us. Dennis Eckersley came over and said good night to Eddie; he was going back to his room. (atta boy, Eck!) I kept looking over at Wade and he'd look back at me. I said I was getting tired and my girlfriend said, "Well, let's go." We were going to have dessert at a place I like. She said, "Do you mind if [Eddie] comes along to have cake with us and we'll take him back to his hotel afterwards?" I said, "That's fine with me." Jurak asked if I'd mind if he brought a friend. It must have been about 1:30 in the morning. I said, "Fine. Bring whoever you want." He said, "Which one do you want me to bring?" I pointed at Wade and said, ("to hell with that wedding band" --) "Bring him." When we got to the restaurant, I noticed he didn't have his wedding ring on. So I asked him, "What happened to your wedding ring?" He said, "I took it off." I asked him why he did that. He said, "Well, you didn't look like the kind of girl that would go with me if I had a wedding ring on.'' (Real smooth, Wade. Too bad you entirely misjudged her, btw.)
Did you know who Wade Boggs was?
No. I had friends who had long-term relationships (nice euphemism!) with baseball players, but I didn't know anything about the American League or batting champions ("but I couldn't wait for Mr. Wade Boggs to fill up my empty head.")
Did you and Wade spend that first night together?
No. ("See, I'm a 'nice' girl"). We left the restaurant and went to the Crystal Cathedral, drove around, and then I dropped him off back at his hotel. He asked me if I'd like to have dinner with him the next evening because they had a night off. I told him to call me [the next day] at my office and gave him my card—and a quick kiss goodnight.
Did he call?
He called the next morning and told me to pick where I'd like to go for dinner
Did he always ask you how to dress?
Always. I usually picked out what he wore. (Playing mommy was lots of fun, right? Did you wipe his..uh...nose for him too?)
You laid out his clothes?
In the beginning his clothes were kind of yucky. Us each year went by, his clothes got better and better. I bought him shirts—pants were too hard (awww, life sure is tough, chica), but lots and lots of shirts and most of his polo shirts until 1987. I would iron his clothes (sucker!) and lay everything out (like a good mommy does for her three year-old).
What was your first date like?
We went to the Ancient Mariner in Newport Beach and had a great time. I was completely enthralled (ok...but, um... WHY?). During dinner, he told me the story about him eating chicken every day. "There are hits in chicken," he said. He told me how superstitious he was. He asked me that night what my favorite numbers were, and I told him— 20 and 6. He thought that was hysterical because his number is 26. I didn't know that. I ended up drinking the entire bottle of wine. He had beer, and I ate almost none of my dinner. I was very tipsy when we left. I lived about a mile from there, so Wade drove to my house.
So you had sex with Wade that night?
I'd like to say I had this fabulous, romantic sexual adventure, but I honestly cannot remember what happened after we got to my house, because I'd had too much to drink. I got up early the next morning to go to work and take Wade back to his hotel. He was fidgety, nervous, upset, which made me upset, too. I thought it was a one-night stand to him. (Looks like you probably thought right.)
What was he worried about?
I didn't know until he called me later at my office. He said, "There were no messages last night. I feel much better." He told me he tried never to stay out all night because one night, when he was still in the minor leagues, [his wife] Debbie had tried to call him when his daughter had been sick. She used that against him (because she doesn't know how else to keep him away from women like Margo -- so she figures, why not try a little good, old-fashioned "manipulation?" -- this term just can't be foreign to Ms. Adams, can it?) like, "See, you were out all night and look what happened"—and Wade felt superstitious that it would cause something to be wrong with his daughter if he ever did it again.
Did Wade tell you he stayed out a lot with other women?
We had a saying—"B.M.''—Before Margo. He used to say there would be no "A.M."—After Margo.
(rotflmao. And you believed him??? Bwahahaha!)
How was your sex life together -
Great! ("I mean, when I can *remember* what it's like, that is") We sometimes talked out a fantasy of a threesome when we were having sex. I called his bluff once. I got a woman and approached him about it. He backed down, although I would never have followed through. (uh-huh. Let me guess: you were just testing his looove? hehehe) When Wade and I were apart, he'd initiate phone sex. We started doing that later in the relationship, probably in '85. Then we'd do that if he hadn't gotten any hits, or when he was just lonely. And a couple of times in the morning, but rarely during the day. because Wade believes that sex weakens your legs, and he needs strong legs to play third base. Once he photographed a centerfold. We discussed that situation in detail. We had a very erotic conversation, which he really enjoyed. (and I've really enjoyed not hearing the details. Thanks!) He was never very talkative on the phone except during phone sex. He would always start by asking me, in his boyish tone, "So what are you wearing?"(Really original, Wade.)
After the series in Anaheim, did he want you to go on to the next city the Sox were playing in?
He started mentioning my going to Oakland. I had already made plans to go away for a week, so I said no. He kept up and kept up and kept up. He sent me flowers to the office. Then he left. I missed him immediately. I fell in love with him. I probably fell in love with him that first night at dinner (once again...um...why?), but it was a choice of spending a week skiing with a person who was single, or falling deeper in love with a man who was married. (Seems like kind of a no-brainer for most of us, Margo.) I talked to a couple of girlfriends and told them I was head over heels in love with Wade. They said, "Don't do it, don't go to Oakland. He's married. Don't get involved. You'll be sorry." I decided not to go to Oakland.
When was the first time you went on the road with Wade?
The trip to Kansas City in May. I was nervous, he was nervous. He asked me if I could get away for a few days. I said I'd have to think about it ("...though I certainly had no intention of actually doing any "thinking." Why should this time be any different?"), and he said, "Well, why don't you find out the price of a ticket to Kansas City' He gave me the dates. I bought the ticket and went to Kansas City.
What was it like?
I got there in the afternoon. He had arrived the night before. When he opened the door, I saw he had flowers sent to the room, along with champagne. We sat and talked. I was nervous and he was nervous. I can still picture the entire scene sitting there. He told me he had asked one of the Kansas City players—I think it was George Brett—to recommend a local florist. When he'd send me flowers before, from the ballpark, he'd give the clubhouse boy money to arrange it. He didn't know how to do it himself. (uh -- and just maybe... he didn't want to charge it to his and Debbie's joint credit card??) I remember saying, "I can tell by the way I'm starting to feel about you I shouldn't have come, because I'll never be able to leave you." He said, "You'll leave me. I'll never leave you." (and you believed this? Here I am, back on the floor again...hehehe...)
Did you have a good time in Kansas City?
The trip was extremely exciting. We stayed to ourselves a lot, but we'd meet up with the guys at a bar. One night we were standing at the bar and saw a girl come out of the bathroom—she was very drunk. She passed out and then vomited. She was lying there in vomit and probably close to asphyxiating herself. ("...Yet there I stood, doing absolutely nothing to try to help a dying young woman.") I remember a couple of players looking at each other, laughing. All they were trying to do was see up her dress. The way she was lying there, they could see up her dress. Someone else in the bar had to come to her aid. (Why not YOU? Too drunk...again?)
The two of you took several vacations together. Which one was the most interesting?
Definitely the trip to the Dominican Republic. One of Wade's friends came along for the trip. We went to this outdoor strip place. (Oh boy! Your kinda date, Ms. Adams!) There were women prostitutes there and they charged $6 for the entire night. I remember his friend asking me to pick out a girl for him. I told him that for those prices, why pick only one? He finally took one back to the hotel and I remember the next day him saying how he had trouble with her because she didn't speak English. He said that he was going down on her and she had never had that done before. How many guys would go down on a prostitute? I thought. (How many indeed...? uh...<whapping myself upside my head>...sorry. But this is *Penthouse*!) All she would do is laugh because it tickled her. He eventually had to get a translator.
Is it true that after Kansas City, Debbie Boggs learned of the affair for the first time?
I went home and he went home to Boston. He found a way to call me (it's called "the telephone"), to make sure I'd gotten home okay and tell me how much he missed me. The next day my travel agent came running up the stairs to my office and saids "We need your phone number—there's someone trying to get you from the hotel in Kansas City. You left something there." I said, "No I didn't—no one would know who I was." I went downstairs with her and figured out very quickly it was Debbie. She had found my travel assistant somehow. I called the ballpark and got through to Charlie Moss, the trainer, and told him ("...after his repeated requests to positively identify myself since he couldn't possibly keep all of Wade's 'girls' straight:"), "I think Debbie found out about me. ("It's ME...Margo Adams! M, uh... A, R, G...") You'd better warn Wade.''
What happened next?
Wade called and said, "You're right, she's trying to find you." I asked him how she found out about me. I had bought a Penthouse magazine to read (for the great articles, I'm sure, like this one) on the plane to Kansas City and finished it by the time I arrived (I'm glad I didn't have to sit next to you on the plane).Wade asked me if he could have it ("as apparently our latest tryst left him with even more to be desired"). He'd taken it home with him and hadn't opened it to read (showing a rare sense of mercy to his teammates /flight-mates). But my travel itinerary was stuck in it, with his room number written on it. When she picked up the magazine, it fell out.
How did Wade get out of it?
He called me at 8 AM. Saturday morning. He said, "I just acted like I was confessing and told Debbie it was some girl I met in Anaheim who had flown to Kansas City on a business trip." He told her it was a one-night stand, it would never happen again—that the girl just followed him everywhere, he had no choice. (Sounds pretty accurate, in large measure...except for the "it won't happen again" and "had no choice" parts.)
At the end of the '84 season, did Debbie learn of you again?
Yes. When we were in Texas, I couldn't find one of my very expensive slips. (uh.. How expensive was it? I'm sure he'd have bought you a new one if you'd asked.) I thought I had left it in Kansas City. As it turned out, the maid had cleaned up the room, picked up all his clothes, and threw them on top of his luggage. Debbie found my slip when she unpacked his suitcase. He told her again it was just a one-night stand. (So Debbie didn't have a problem with it, again -- right? <sigh> I just hope she got her share when Wade was on the road.)
Before, you, did Debbie find out about other women?
Back a couple of years ago, he said he had slept with a girl during spring training who gave him VD. I thought that was disgusting ("but obviously it was of no consequence and really didn't matter to me.") Another time he had met a girl in the minor leagues, outside Detroit, saw her a couple of times, and got her pregnant. (I'm falling more and more in love with Mr. Boggs as I read this. I'm starting to understand the attraction...(NOT!)) The girl called Wade's home. She eventually had a miscarriage.
You were friends with Wade's brother Wayne, and his wife Carolyn. Did you ever discuss Wade's marriage with them?
[Carolyn] said Debbie and Wade weren't happy in their marriage, and how much happier Wade was with me ("...sex-on-demand, doesn't have to see me that much, no kids, etc.") and how we got along so well. I remember in 1984 we were out to dinner and we went to the bathroom, and she said, "You know, [Debbie's] going to figure out what's going on as soon as she gets home in the winter. And if she gets pregnant and has a boy, you'll never have a chance of getting him." (Yeah, so??)
Were you threatened by the other woman—in this case. Debbie Boggs?
(Making up a stupid story to avoid answering the question, which is evidently a resounding "yes":) When I met Wade, Debbie had blond hair and looked very different than she does now. She was flat-chested, and when I met him he said that large breasts didn't mean anything to him; but after dating for a year, he became much more obsessed with larger breasts (what, did he buy you some new ones?). And each year in the Red Sox yearbook, they show a picture of the wives. Every year she looked different. She had the same hair color; the same haircut and hairdo, that I had. I confronted him. I asked him, What are you doing? Are you trying to make Debbie into a Margo?" He'd say, "There will never be another Margo." But I really thought that's exactly what he was doing. It was quite chilling, and Wade was creating a clone of myself. (Are you quite sure *you* weren't trying to become "Mrs. Boggs" - with all that "studying" ??)
In 1986, the Boston Red Sox won the American League Championship. At that time they had to travel to your hometown of Anaheim to play the Califomia Angels for that title. Did Boggs bring his wife to those games?
Debbie came along with him. She was pregnant. (Well, now how THE HELL could this have happened? The immaculate conception?? After all, Wade had YOU now! Do you honestly expect us to believe that he was still performing some "husbandly duties" at home, too? Wow, what a guy!) I had just resolved myself to the fact that she was coming and there was nothing I could do about it. You couldn't very well tell her she couldn't come when every single other wife was coming and the team paid for it and they were all going on the plane together. When they got out here, he called me right away. He called me at the office and I met him right across from the stadium. We sat and talked for a while, and he was actually more upset than me. He kept saying, "She doesn't belong here. You belong here. She doesn't belong here. This is your place." (..."telling me exactly what I wanted to hear...what a coincidence!") He didn't feel comfortable. (Gee, wonder why?) And I heard from friends that went out with him after the games when they were here.... He didn't drink, he wasn't himself, he was real cold to Debbie. (Yeah, but she was still his wife, not you.) He sent flowers to the office. ("...well, you know, I mean -- that kid at the park sent some for him.") I took him to the ballpark before each game. l gave him his kiss good-bye, and every time I dropped him off I'd say, "Get lots of hits." Those were our words ("even though they had nothing to do with me, they only concerned him").
I was the one who took him to each of those play-off games in '86 not his wife. It was the way he wanted it. (Somehow I'm thinking it was YOU who wanted the arrangement.)
You saw Wade . . . you took Wade to the ballpark?
Wade took a cab and met me near the ballpark ("the regular place where I stalked him when Debbie was in town with him and I had to stay out-of-sight "), then I would drive him to the ballpark and kiss him goodbye for luck. I went to the games. I sat a few rows behind Debbie and got a good look at her (can you say "stalked her?"). At one point I followed her to the rest room - my girlfriend was hysterical (uh--rightly so! You were *losing* it!) —to see what she looked like ("since I just hadn't seen quite enough of Mrs. Boggs in all those yearbook photos of her that I'd studied so intently...") So I went into the bathroom and stood right next to her in the mirror. When she brushed her hair, I brushed my hair and just looked at her ("...I felt just like 'Kimberly' -- the resident psychopath of the late, great 'Melrose Place.'") Afterwards I was very, very upset. I came home and cried. It just bothered me too much—it was too close. ("Poor me, *I* got too close by stalking her all day.") You know, when she was across the country, it wasn't the same thing. But to be in the same town and look face-to-face with her, it was very upsetting. (Awww. Poor, poor Margo. Just imagine how upset MRS. BOGGS would have been had she known who you were. Eew!)
On 1985 Wade won his salary arbitration case with the Red Sox. You came to New York with him. Tell us about it.
That night we left and we went out to dinner. All of us went out to dinner—[Wade's agent] Alan [Nero] and the attorney, David Brian—all went back, and Wade and I stayed out with a friend of Wade's in New York, and went out and had another drink. The next morning his arbitration wasn't until two o'clock that afternoon. So we got dressed, went downstairs, and had breakfast with Alan about 9:30.
How did Wade feel about the Red Sox organization?
At that point he didn't have a lot of conversation. He was just so nervous about the whole thing in general. You have to sit there and listen to them say everything . . . how many errors . . . they kept dwelling on how many errors he made. And he was not known for his fielding at that time, for not being a good fielder, and he worked hard on it. Even though he won, he was hurt. (Awww) It was a very debilitating kind of experience. When he came back to the hotel, he looked like he'd been hit by a train. The first person he called was his father. We ordered pizza delivered—our favorite pizza was double-anchovy pizza. It brought us good luck. (I haven't heard anything lucky about *you* here.) I decorated the room for Valentine's Day, because it was two days before Valentine's Day. I put on a sexy little outfit, a little apron and garter and stockings, and served him his pizza. I was serving him pizza while he was talking to his father on the phone. (There goes my appetite...did you have to share that? Oops, sorry, I forgot...this is Penthouse.)
Did Wade call his wife?
Yes. After his father, he called his wife. He was very short with her. It was the perfect excuse for him to say that he really didn't have much to say to her, because he was upset about everything. (Boy, he sure duped *her*! You'd never be so gullible, though - would you?) He was just going to stay in the roorn, he was too upset. I comforted him. (Awww. Or did I lose "I confronted him" in the scanning translation?? hehehe)
At this point, after he won the arbitration, did he have any feelings about the Red Sox organization and what they were trying to do to him?
He thought [General Managerl Lou Gorman was a bastard. It was never
good. I said to him, "Will they ever be able to treat you well after this?"
And he said, "They never treated me well, anyway." He spent six years in
the minors. And for every year except the first year he hit over .300.
He always felt he was given a "bum rap."
I remember Pete Rose saying publicly, if asked, "You know, you broke
Ty Cobb's record. Is there anybody in baseball that could come close to
you?" And he would say, "Wade Boggs." But you see, Wade Boggs spent
six years in the minors that Pete Rose didn't. Pete Rose came up when he
was 19 or so, and Wade didn't come up until he was 25. He held the Red
Sox responsible for that, for keeping him down in the minors when he should
have been up in the major leagues. He felt he was being punished for going
to arbitration. (Wah-wah-f'ing
wah! He could have accepted the team's offer and avoided such grueling
pain! Awww...) At the end of the season
in '85, the Red Sox weren't going anywhere, they were way out. I think
they
were in fourth place. (I
guess your presence didn't singlehandedly "inspire" our boys to victory
in '85, huh?) I remember Wade telling me at
batting practice that he was pissed off and I said, "What's wrong?" We
were on the road and he wasn't getting any extra batting practice, and
he used to do it all the time. They would only allow something ridiculous,
like 20 balls per batting practice, because, he felt, they were trying
to limit it because they actually didn't want him to get his average up
anymore. Because the better he did, the more money he would get next arbitration
or contract negotiations. So why let him take extra batting practice and
get better? It wasn't going to help the team. They were already out
of it. ("But...um...
who cares about the team anyway...?)
What about Wade Boggs the baseball player? Was he a team player?
Wade plays for Wade Boggs. He's a team player when it's time to go out and party. When ("he wasn't otherwise occupied with another "Margo" of the moment, and on occasion...") he would call at night and I'd be half-asleep, I'd ask how he did, and he'd talk about his hits and what kind of a pitch, what kind of a hit—and even if they won a tough game, if he hadn't gotten any hits, his mood was horrible. Winning or losing was never that important. Nine times out of ten, I didn't even ask him. All that was important was how many hits he got. The same way when they lost: If he went 4 for 5, that was the important thing. (Yet, you were *in love* with this man????)
How was Wade when he was in a batting slump?
To Wade, 0 for 4 one night is a batting Sump. In 1985, when we were in Minnesota, he was hitting .289 and he was quite upset about that. When he went into a slump, I would tease him.and say I was going to put him "on waivers." To go two nights without hits is traumatic to Wade. To get out of the slump, sometimes Wade would do special things with me. (oh no, please spare us...) There'd be times when I'd say, "Come on, do you want to do that tonight?" And he'd say, "No, no, I want to save that for when I need it." One night I went to the game and he went 4 for 5. He found out that I hadn't worn panties underneath my dress. So for the next couple of months when he went into a slump, he'd ask me not to wear panties to the game. After a game in which he got several hits, he'd say, "Did you wear any underwear tonight?" It wasn't sexual—it was that he'd gotten hits and wanted to be sure of the little things he had done to get those hits. (Oops, I forgot... this is Penthouse.)
Any other magic cures for batting stumps?
There's a certain kind of chicken he has to have at certain places when he's in a slump. The Clock in Milwaukee for fried chicken, because there are hits in that chicken. Things have to be served a certain way. Cheesecake with strawberries is bad luck. It has to be plain. Once they accidentally put strawberries on it and the next day he didn't get any hits and he freaked out. No strawberries. You've got to be very careful when you order room service for Wade. (Why not just have him order it himself, mommy dearest?)
How far did the superstition go?
As silly as it sounds, I guess at times I was just as superstitious (not to mention gullible) as he was. I called a psychic who gave me readings about Wade and myself. We always felt we'd been together before in a past life, and that in our past lives I had been the man and he had been the woman—that somehow it hadn't been finished. (A hearty "Thank- You!" for not elaborating here.)
Did Wade generally feel you brought him good luck?
Yes. Debbie would go on maybe two road trips. a year, and whenever she went, he'd hit horribly. He'd say, "Well, if I hit badly when she's with me, then I can use that as an excuse so that she can't go again." His average when she was with him was about .22t, and his average when I was with him was .341.
How did you get that statistic?
A friend of ours figured it out for the games I was with him and the games Debbie was with him (uh, ok, sure.)
Were there times when you found Wade was cheating on you on the road? (Cheating? on Margo??? Huh??)
Yes. We had become friends with a stripper in Cleveland. (perfect!) One night we went out and got drunk together and they had a horrible fight. I didn't understand why Wade had been so mean to her. Back in our room, Wade said, "When you weren't in town last year, she came up to the room and I had a chance to fuck her." ("I didn't mind at all that he was married, got VD from one fan, got another pregnant, photographed a centerfold, hung out w/prostitutes, etc, etc. but THIS...was JUST...the LAST!! STRAW!!" hehehe) I jumped out of bed and ripped off the "26" neck-lace he had given me, and told him I was going home the next day and never wanted to see him again (but I obviously didn't really mean it). He started breaking furniture and yelling.... Then I did the same thing I think Debbie Boggs had always done: I just told myself (lying right to my own face), "Well, it was just once—it didn't mean any-thing." (This woman is positively delusional.)
How did you resolve it?
He told me that he'd asked her to go back to the room, but she didn't want to because we were friends. He said he got his pants down. He said, "I was missing you and wishing she was you. She started to go down on me and she said, 'I cannot do this to Margo.'" (What a true-blue pal!) Then he said she left and that he masturbated thinking of me (here's Wade being smooth and oh-so-charming again). So just like a wife, I thought, (no - just like an idiot, *I'm* thinking) "Well he was thinking of me, that's all that's important. We'll get through this."
-to be continued- (if I can...stomach...the rest of the article)
* and special thanks to <EvilMoosh> for pointing out that which is truly (or at least borders on) *evil* in the world :-) You've inspired me here, darlin'! :-)