3 – “I Love You, Bebe Broadbent”

RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 3

Welcome to the official Rubbery Shrubbery (RS) blog. It describes the efforts of Yachats (YAH-hots), Oregon, and its citizens—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns), or in some cases, Yahotties (yah-HOT-tees)—to acquire a Major League Baseball franchise. To learn about Yachats, please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

In this posting, Harrison Grutch continues to tell how Yachats began its quest for a baseball team. Now we have a team-naming contest in the making.

“I Love You, Bebe Broadbent”
by Harrison Grutch

If you’ve been following my postings on RS, you know a lucky series of events at the Drift Inn Café has convinced three Yachatians (Forbes Crossbowe, Bebe Broadbent, and Phyllicida Thronk) that Yachats is ripe for Major League Baseball. Ripe enough, in fact, to hold a YACHATS BASEBALL TEAM NAMING CONTEST. When Forbes suggested this idea over and around a smoked salmon omelette, Bebe and Phyllicida couldn’t have been more enthusiastic. Bebe’s delightful squeals sent shivers of testosterone coursing through Forbes’s unaccustomed body.

In his excitement Forbes inadvertently blurted out, “I love you, Bebe Broadbent!” Whereupon Bebe, keen to go with the flow, cried out, “Oh, yes, Forbes! Me too! I love everyone in Yachats!” Which left Forbes critically taken aback. He choked on his last bite of omelette.

Meanwhile Phyllicida, always one to get right down to business, ignored the give-and-take of her two companions and began turning the contest details over in her head. “Are we giving the team a first name as well as a second name? Like, say, the Oregon Scridgehoppers?”

Now, that question isn’t as silly as one might think. Many teams take an all-inclusive place name—like the Colorado Rockies or the Minnesota Twins or the California Los Angeles Anaheim Santa Ana Fullerton Bakersfield Angels—in an effort to attract fans from distant localities. A team called the Oregon Thingamapuppies might draw fans from the far corners of the state, like Cannibal Mountain and Naughty Lady Meadow and Snap Jaw Junction. [Note: I made up that last one. I had time to kill, what with Bebe pounding Forbes on the back and all.]

Before her comrades could respond, Phyllicida charged ahead, “But wait! Why not go for the biggest possible fan base—maybe the North American Superheroes or the Western Hemisphere Spheroids?” Visions of North Americans and/or Western Hemispherians danced in her head…throngs of fans with their Western Hemisphere maps unfolded and stretched upon tables, trying to find Yachats. She dreamily etched the outline of the Western Hemisphere into her raspberry crepe with her fork (see Fig. 1).

Figure 1. Raspberry creped outline of the Western Hemisphere, Earth.

But Bebe, finished pounding what with Forbes breathing again, quickly ratcheted down from her euphoric high and thought better of Phyllicida’s radical ideas. She carefully wrinkled her nose as if to say, “Oh, come on now. We would never have fans coming from those places. Not with the cost of steamers these days. This reminds me of some of your other peanut-butter-and-jelly schemes, such as the dragonfly petting zoo (see Fig. 2) or the Yachats International Yacht Races.”

Figure 2. Cardinal meadowhawk dragonfly in what would have been a dragonfly petting zoo if Bebe wasn't so lacking in imagination.*

And, can you believe it? That subtle, graceful nasal rumpling squished Phyllicida’s magnificent concept in the bud.

So, it looks like the team’s first name is going to be just plain old, everyday “Yachats.” How unoriginal! It’s a shame they couldn’t have thought up something out-of-the-ordinary and catchy.

But onward they marched, trying to find a fearsome nickname. Their first task in that regard was to post announcements on every bulletin board in town, saying that the winner of the contest will get two season tickets free for our team’s first major league season.

Soon folks began calling in their most fearsome nickname suggestions. At times the queue at the phone booth in front of the C & K Market was three deep.

The number of responses was impressive, but all the really fearsome nicknames seemed to have been taken—Dodgers, Brewers, White Sox. What was left? Only namby-pamby junk. Bebe began to despair and Phyllicida likewise. Forbes panicked (but in a manly way).

An indigo funk descended on our trio for they realized a nick-nameless team is unacceptable—the Baseball Deities just wouldn’t stand for it. Somehow, a fearsome nickname must be found.

* Photo by Kathleen Sand.

Next Time: Harrison returns to tell us whether the funk was lifted by a glorious nickname or would Yachats be forced to try to sneak one past the Deities?

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NOTE AGAIN: Perhaps, in some obtuse way, Eric Sallee and Dave Baldwin might have a slight, oblique association with the writers of this blog.