Unwritten rules of the locker room. Now in written form!
In all sports, there is a code of conduct among denizens of the locker room. This code needn’t be written down. Everyone on the team instinctively understands it. But, in case you went to Florida State, and drawing logical conclusions is something that often proves troublesome for you, let’s not take any chances.
WHAT HAPPENS IN THE LOCKER ROOM STAYS IN THE LOCKER ROOM. You will likely forget most of these rules, and indeed the majority of this book. But do not forget this rule. All jokes, confessions, fights, and torrid love affairs that occur between teammates are not to be spoken of outside the confines of the locker room. Ever. You don’t go talking to the media about it. Or your wife. Or your pastor. Or Larry King. You deal with that shit internally. Do not involve outsiders. The whole point of playing on a sports team is to experience all the thrills of being in the Mafia without having to commit any actual crimes. Even though you may indulge in that anyway. So don’t go fucking up the fun for everyone else.
ONLY STEAL TOILETRIES. Stealing from teammates is wrong. Former Yankee Ruben Rivera once stole Derek Jeter’s glove, no doubt to take in its fresh, cedarlike scent. He was immediately cut by the Yankees and stoned to death by crazed Bronx-dwellers as a result. So don’t do it. The lone exception? Toiletries. Help yourself to all the Pantene you like.
NEVER DISCUSS CONTRACTS OR MONEY. Did the guy next to you just get a $50 million extension? It never happened. Don’t even joke about it. Even when you’re joking about money, you’re not really joking about it. You’re just expressing your extreme jealousy in a more palatable fashion. Your teammate can read between the lines. He knows you’re really saying, “You dick. You don’t deserve that kind of cash. WHEN THE FUCK IS MY MOTHERFUCKING PAYDAY COMING?” Just let that elephant in the room keep stomping around and shitting all over the place.
ONLY THE TEAM CAPTAIN MAY TOUCH THE STEREO. At the beginning of the season, each team designates a team captain. The team captain gets a C on his jersey, plus a fancy hat with an anchor on the front. Team captain responsibilities include leading the team out onto the field, presiding over team stretches while counting in a very loud and husky voice, applying eye black to everyone’s face, and organizing involuntary voluntary off-season hill-running sessions. But the real prize of captaincy, the real reason your captain kissed all of that coach ass, is control of the locker room stereo. Only the team captain may touch the stereo. If your captain is black, you should expect lots of hip-hop. If he’s white, you should expect lots of heavy metal. Or country music. Or, if you have the misfortune of having a captain who likes Kid Rock, all three.
NO WIFE-SWAPPING UNTIL AFTER MIDSEASON. If you and a teammate have decided the grass is better shaved on the other side of the fence, you are not allowed to officially switch families until after the all-star break. You need that full half-season to make sure that you’re doing the right thing. Trading wives as if they were chattel is not something one does lightly. Oh, sure, it’s a fun idea as a lark. But you’re gonna want additional time for that frivolous idea to take an unexpectedly dark and serious turn. Those extra couple months will also give you time to ensure that you’re trading for the right wife, and not some cold fish. Also, if you trade wives, you must also trade children. No exceptions there. Don’t worry. Your new “daughter” will soon learn to grudgingly accept your twisted little experiment-gone-horribly-awry.
DO NOT MENTION YOUR TEAMMATE’S SUBPAR PLAY UNLESS HE BRINGS IT UP. If he wants advice on how to break out of his slump, rest assured he will come to you. Unless you happen to be Joey Harrington. No one goes to Joey Harrington if they want to improve. He blows.
DO NOT MENTION STREAKS. If you mention a streak to your teammate, you’ll cause him to think about his streak, knocking him out of his groove. Many people know that Joe DiMaggio hit safely in fifty-six consecutive games, a hallowed record in baseball. What few people know is that the Yankee Clipper’s hitting streak would have gone seventy-eight games had bench player Red Ruffing not sidled up to him in the clubhouse on July 16, 1941, and said, “Hey, Joey D! That’s one kickass hitting streak you got there!” DiMaggio’s streak ended the next game. Later on, DiMaggio took out his anger with Ruffing by occasionally beating Marilyn Monroe and never tipping a waiter again for the rest of his life.