IronPigs Are What's For Dinner

The IronPigs are striking the corporate sponsorship iron while it is hot, today announcing that they have an official sponsor for major league rehab assignments (Good Shepherd). That's right--the next time Pat Burrell sprains his ankle, he'll be shuttled to the Lehigh Valley in a sparkling chariot of health and virility.

At least that's my understanding. And if I'm wrong, then what's the point?

I've always enjoyed the minor leagues because of their willingness to try any and every crazy promotion even if it guarantees only a dozen more drunk assholes coming out to see a Tom Selleck look-alike contest. I am convinced that everything you see on reality TV has already been done in the minors.

Case in point: I went to the last Reading Phillies home game of the season a few years ago, and the pre-game promotion consisted of an honest-to-God helicopter hovering 40 feet above the diamond and dropping vouchers for next year's season tickets on the field. It looked like the fall of Saigon with all the swirling dust and human chaos.

I have the highest hopes for the IronPigs in terms of creative marketing, even though Triple A ball generally is the least insane of the minor leagues in terms of on-field wackiness. Their nickname alone conjures up several possibilities, one of which has been used by the hometown minor league hockey team of a certain reader:

Cummings said he attracted a sponsor for the mascot when he worked for a hockey team in Rockford, Ill., known as the IceHogs. That sponsor was the pork industry, meaning fans were treated to the sight of a giant hog skating around with a sign on its back: ''Pork -- The Other White Meat.''

Nothing says team spirit like encouraging people to eat your mascot. In the interest of cultural sensitivity, I think there should be a kosher version: Lehigh Valley IronLox Night, anyone? Mazel tov!

Everything (Almost) For Sale in Minor Leagues [The Morning Call]