Editor’s Note: On Aug. 5, longtime Peoria Journal Star Sports Editor Kirk Wessler was honored with a special bobblehead in his likeness by Peoria’s Midwest League baseball team the Peoria Chiefs, a Class A minor league affiliate of the Chicago Cubs. Here is Wessler’s story behind the bobblehead.
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When the Peoria Chiefs announced their “Media Madness Bobblehead tournament” in March, it sounded like a hoot. Have some fun. Earn some money for charity. Maybe even get my giant noggin cast as a bobblehead – although I never figured I would win. After all, I write a sports column that occasionally generates obscene phone calls, irate emails and assorted Internet rippings. And my first opponent was the Peoria area’s most popular morning drive radio duo. What chance would I have in a popularity contest with two radio guys who could repeatedly remind people to vote for them four hours every morning?
Still, at the very least, the contest provided a goofy column topic. And some blogs. And some video. Just for laughs, I had one of our reporters follow me around the Illinois state basketball tournament with a video camera. I asked people, “Do you know Kirk Wessler? Never heard of him? Wouldn’t know him if he stood in front of you? Would you vote for him as bobblehead?” And we made a campaign commercial out of it. We did another one with a bunch of high school kids, just saying “Vote!” “Vote!” “Vote for Kirk Wessler as bobblehead!” Real cornball stuff.
Then it became a quest. My campaign slogan was “Be Like Chicago: Vote Early! Vote Often! Vote Even If You Are Dead!” I even appealed to readers who hate me: “If I win, you can get your own KW bobblehead doll and smack it any time you get mad at what I write.” I blogged and Facebooked shamelessly. Family, friends and readers from all over the country – and even in Europe and Africa – were voting for me. One of my nephews away at college said he voted 1,000 times while watching his school’s basketball team play in the NCAA tournament. “Click, vote, refresh!” was his mantra. Four weeks later, the contest ended. I was the winner, and the Peoria South Side Mission, an outreach to which my late grandmother introduced me when I was 8 or 9 years old, received a check for $600.
Finally, my official Bobblehead Night came on Aug. 5. The first 1,500 fans through the gates at the Chiefs’ game that evening got a Kirk Wessler bobblehead doll. A friend advised me to bring a Sharpie, so I could autograph his. Good advice. I wound up signing a couple dozen. For that matter, who knew some of the bobbleheads would wind up on eBay? To my amazement, two people actually bid on the silly things.
Editor’s Note: On Aug. 5, longtime Peoria Journal Star Sports Editor Kirk Wessler was honored with a special bobblehead in his likeness by Peoria’s Midwest League baseball team the Peoria Chiefs, a Class A minor league affiliate of the Chicago Cubs. Here is Wessler’s story behind the bobblehead.
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When the Peoria Chiefs announced their “Media Madness Bobblehead tournament” in March, it sounded like a hoot. Have some fun. Earn some money for charity. Maybe even get my giant noggin cast as a bobblehead – although I never figured I would win. After all, I write a sports column that occasionally generates obscene phone calls, irate emails and assorted Internet rippings. And my first opponent was the Peoria area’s most popular morning drive radio duo. What chance would I have in a popularity contest with two radio guys who could repeatedly remind people to vote for them four hours every morning?
Still, at the very least, the contest provided a goofy column topic. And some blogs. And some video. Just for laughs, I had one of our reporters follow me around the Illinois state basketball tournament with a video camera. I asked people, “Do you know Kirk Wessler? Never heard of him? Wouldn’t know him if he stood in front of you? Would you vote for him as bobblehead?” And we made a campaign commercial out of it. We did another one with a bunch of high school kids, just saying “Vote!” “Vote!” “Vote for Kirk Wessler as bobblehead!” Real cornball stuff.
Then it became a quest. My campaign slogan was “Be Like Chicago: Vote Early! Vote Often! Vote Even If You Are Dead!” I even appealed to readers who hate me: “If I win, you can get your own KW bobblehead doll and smack it any time you get mad at what I write.” I blogged and Facebooked shamelessly. Family, friends and readers from all over the country – and even in Europe and Africa – were voting for me. One of my nephews away at college said he voted 1,000 times while watching his school’s basketball team play in the NCAA tournament. “Click, vote, refresh!” was his mantra. Four weeks later, the contest ended. I was the winner, and the Peoria South Side Mission, an outreach to which my late grandmother introduced me when I was 8 or 9 years old, received a check for $600.
Finally, my official Bobblehead Night came on Aug. 5. The first 1,500 fans through the gates at the Chiefs’ game that evening got a Kirk Wessler bobblehead doll. A friend advised me to bring a Sharpie, so I could autograph his. Good advice. I wound up signing a couple dozen. For that matter, who knew some of the bobbleheads would wind up on eBay? To my amazement, two people actually bid on the silly things.
I also got to throw out the ceremonial first pitch. My sons, all grown now, had warned me to practice. You don’t want to do what President Obama did at the 2009 All-Star Game, they said. I had not thrown a ball in at least five years. When your kids grow up and move away, there’s no longer anyone to interrupt your nap to play catch. The day of the game, I took a little rubber ball out in the yard and threw it a few times, but I was only lobbing about 40 feet. The pitcher’s rubber is 60 feet, 6 inches from home plate. My official pitch traveled about 54 feet. It did cross the plate after one bounce. I heard a smattering of boos. Then a fan in the stands reassured me: “Don’t worry, Alfonso Soriano would have swung at it!”
