Andrew Rector is either a marketing genius or he’s an extremely not genius of any kind. I’d like to use more descriptive words but Andrew is the litigious sort. Which is the story here.
In case you hadn’t heard, Andrew Rector is the gentleman pictured below who entered into repose along with all his chins at a nationally televised baseball game. Being a proud, upstanding American, I consider this a sin on the order of knocking over little old ladies and smacking ice cream cones out of children’s hands. But if everyone who fell asleep at a baseball game were charged with a crime, we’d have to put fencing and barbed wire around America. And I’d have to bail out my otherwise-sweet wife.
Anyway, the game announcers had some good, clean fun at Andrew Rector’s expense, speculating on the number of beers required to reach this particular Zen state.
From there, of course, the InterWebs picked it up and turned Andrew Rector into a cross between Bozo the Clown and Pig Pen. You can just imagine. Upon seeing his visage on Twitter, a friend commented to me that he looked like an (extremely) (unattractive person). Others called him a “fat bastard,” a “douchenozzle,” and things I can’t write here.
And then tomorrow happened. In this case, tomorrow was April 14, by which time everyone would have forgotten about Andrew Rector. Except, he sued Major League Baseball, ESPN and the announcers personally for $10 million, blaming them for heaping scorn and ridicule upon him.
Even a moron knows that this suit will die a slow, ignominious death. (I am not suggesting in any way, shape or form that Andrew Robert Rector, a used car salesman in or around New York City [you can’t make this stuff up!], is a moron.) Considering that he filed the suit, there’s evidence that he has not achieved that vaunted state.) Suing ESPN and MLB for showing him in slumber (and apparent mid-droolage) is a fool’s errand. Suing the announcers for their tepid remarks is patent dopiness. Not that Andrew Rector is a dope, but his lawyer certainly is. (Note: From the semi-coherent ramblings of the lawsuit, he may not have a lawyer. Infer what you will.)
As a result of the lawsuit, millions of people around the globe who never noticed Andrew Rector conked out live on TV, or checked in on the disparagement of Andrew Rector on Twitter are suddenly aware that Andrew Rector dozed ungracefully through the whole fourth inning of a Yankee-Red Sox tilt at Yankee Stadium, one of Baseball’s holiest shrines, leading my friend, who cares as much about baseball as I care about strapless Jimmy Chu pumps, to call a hiterhto anonymous gentleman an (extremely) (unattractive person.)
With his baseless and juvenile lawsuit, Andrew Rector has frittered away the sympathy his case inspired and catapulted the ridicule seven-fold, this time for good reason. And for that, you might think Andrew Rector is a flaming goober.
But is he? After all, you now know Andrew Rector’s name. You recognize his visage and his form. You might be intrigued by his story. Maybe he’s just angling to extend his 15 minutes to a half hour so that he can cash in. Think of the possibilities.
His people might be on the phone at this very moment encouraging the Yankees to do Andrew Rector Bobblehead Night, with the bobbling noggin on a rightward tilt. (If not the Yankees, Mike Veeck has got to be working on it for the RiverDogs.) I see a book deal with a big advance: “Dreaming of Being A Thin Dodger Fan.” The endorsement deals from Tempurpedic and Jenny Craig practically sell themselves. A speaking tour, a magazine spread – and I do mean spread – Andrew Rector is positioning himself for all of it. The guy can stop selling cars – used or otherwise – and join the one percent.
Maybe Andrew Rector’s not a flaming goober. Maybe he’s a flippin’ marketing genius.