If we really want the A’s playing ball in San Jose, we should put the right people at the table – not Bud Selig, the Commissioner who counts votes before acting; not Peter Magowan, the Giants owner who thinks the Giants territory was part of the original Spanish land grants.  Instead, we take the general managers, the A’s Billy Beane and the Giant’s Brian Sabean, and lock them in a room with enough food for 72 hours.  If we’re nice, we give them bathroom breaks. 

Attention, San Jose:  there’s no time to waste.  Buy extra bottled water, soda and beer. Keep plenty of snacks on hand. Check flashlights and batteries.  Pay your cable bill.  It’s time for Ron Gonzales to deliver the State of the City address.

When I worked for Ron Gonzales I had to defend him frequently from critics who said I could not prove he had “the vision thing.”  I would invariably win the bet with a four-letter word:  BART.  This is why I own Tom McEnery’s hockey stick collection.

Arnold likes Mandela, Gorbachev, and country music - somewhat eclectic, but interesting.  He insists his kids wash their own clothes, make their beds daily, and removes lightbulbs from their rooms if they leave the lights on regularly - a little weird, but interesting.

I like San Jose City Manager Del Borgsdorf.  I really do.  He was pleasant and cooperative during the year we worked together at City Hall.

Yeah, I know, most people treat you nicely when you work at a high level in the mayor’s office:  department heads return calls promptly, the janitor puts double ply toilet paper in the staff bathrooms, and cases of expensive wine mysteriously appear in your car trunk.  Okay, I’m only kidding about the wine—but not about the toilet paper or return calls or Del.

Imagine this: our County Assessor Larry Stone is standing on the mound at Candlestick Park.  It’s 1989. He’s a Sunnyvale City Councilmember and it’s Sunnyvale Day at the ballpark. Larry’s wearing a Giants cap and gets to throw out the first pitch.

The stadium is full and the fans are cheering. His name gets announced.  He rocks back.  His long arm reaches skyward and he throws the ball in the dirt – not the dirt at home plate where the catcher is patiently waiting.  No way.

You see the trees better when you’re not in the forest.  I don’t know if someone said that, but someone should have.

Anyway, that’s the way I feel about San Jose City Hall.  I left four years ago - close enough to have understanding, but far enough to have perspective.