An Open Letter From a Lifelong NOLA Baseball Fan to the Owners of the 'Baby Cakes'
The ever-loving shit.
Were you thinking?
Did you sneak into the NOPD evidence locker and just do all the illegal substances locked up therein? Because I cannot believe that, in what you felt was good and conscious judgment, you’d rename our precious Zephyrs baseball team “Baby Cakes” without serious chemical enhancement. It’s clear to every hardball fan in the 504 that, at best, you not only drank the Kool-Aid on this wretched name change, but spiked it with Everclear. Seriously, there can be no other explanation for the defouling of our city you decided to embark upon.
You think I’m being too harsh? Well, please allow me to elucidate in no uncertain terms:
There’s no such thing as a ‘baby cake’ in New Orleans
It’s called a king cake, and it’s held that designation for centuries. That particular cake is a traditional, historical, and important aspect of life in this city. But you didn’t even go out of your way to learn its name. This abhorrent mashup sounds tone deaf to literally anyone from this town. The sheer carpetbaggery of it all!
You should’ve shopped local
Hiring a California-based marketing firm to rename a NOLA baseball team without doing pretty much any research on the 300 year history of this city and its culture hasn’t gone unnoticed. Seriously, did you think you could just slip this one by? All stories have it that your crack team of branding “experts” spent a weekend in this city, got “Bourbon-faced on Shit Street,” and then came up with the most ludicrous, name suggestions ever.
Why didn’t you choose an alternative?
It’s not just that “Baby Cakes” is terrible, which everyone -- and I mean literally everyone outside of your organization -- can agree on. The alternatives were equally bad, but at least we could have dealt with them. We could have rooted for The New Orleans Red Eyes -- yes, a “red eye” is slang for a morning cocktail, but you insisted that it had something to do with crawfish, and we called bullshit on you. FYI, crawfish have black eyes, but you wouldn’t know, because clearly you’ve never eaten one. And the NOLA Night Owls? Snooze.
It would have taken local marketing company literally three hours to invent three new team names and logos that are infinitely better than “Baby Cakes.” I’d root for the NOLA Mudbugs or the New Orleans Krewe any day. At least those have a passing connection to the city and its culture.
There was nothing wrong with “Zephyrs” to begin with
The man who brought the team from Colorado specifically decided not to change the name, because the Zephyr was a popular and beloved local rollercoaster at Pontchartrain Park many moons ago. You San Diego marketing whizzes might have figured this out by doing a five-second Google search. At least a Zephyr has, at one point, actually existed in New Orleans, which is more than anyone can say for “Baby Cakes.”
We’re not giving you our money
Yeah, that’s right: Even longtime Z’s fans are going to boycott the crap out of you for your heinous sins to this town, and that’s going to hurt you where we all know it counts... in your pocketbooks. So say goodbye to your T-shirt and ticket sales -- if you don’t have enough respect for this town and its history, how can you honestly feel that we’d just lie down and take your crap? You smacked a hornet’s nest here, and we’re looking to sting you good and hard. And you deserve it.
I’m all out of vitriol at this point, but I’m going to leave you with a poignant quote by a local chef named Chris DeBarr that might give you a hint of what’s to come:
"Everybody else might live in America, but we live in New Orleans, a town filled with the freaks, the dreamers, the end-of-the-roaders who have nowhere else to go. This is where we're going to make our final stand. We're the northernmost banana republic in the world. Never forget that."
Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, jerkwads.
Scott Gold, and the entire City of New Orleans
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