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One thing we should have known: You don't fuck with the staff of The New Yorker. When Si Newhouse forced William Shawn to retire as editor in 1987, 153 staffers signed a letter to Robert Gottlieb, Newhouse's pick to succeed Mr. Shawn, urging him not to accept the position. And when we passed on some anti-Adam Gopnik potshots — at his alleged presumption, for insinuating his son onto the magazine's softball team, and also at his own skills on the diamond — we expected at least some response, too.

It arrived only a few hours later, in the form of an email from editorial projects manager Matt Dellinger, the coach of the team. Dellinger defends the Gopniks — "let's just say I don't plan to trade them away" — and disputes the characterization of himself as having an agreeable disposition. ("I yell. I make acerbic comments. I sometimes smoke cigarettes.")

So we can witness the truth firsthand, Dellinger invites Gawker and its readers to attend a New Yorker softball game this evening — that is, he notes, "assuming you don't mind risking a bit of disillusionment."

And we would go watch. Really we would. But we don't think we could handle any more disillusionment from The New Yorker, not since we learned the truth about Owen Ketherry.

Dellinger's full reply after the jump.

Dearest Gawker,

I'm the coach of The New Yorker softball team and I wanted to correct a number of the assertions made by your anonymous correspondent in his or her earlier post.

First, The New Yorker does not play in "the Publisher's Softball League," or any other league. We have a weekly permit for a field and we play, well, whoever we want. We don't keep league stats. There is no championship. No trophies. And, as much as possible, no hateful competitiveness.

Second, I certainly do not have an agreeable disposition! Ask anyone who plays for me (your correspondent clearly doesn't). I yell. I make acerbic comments. I sometimes smoke cigarettes. One perennial opponent has even taken to calling me "Angry Coach."

But — and this is third — nobody, but nobody, takes advantage of us or insinuates themselves on the team. The team is open (for better or worse) to current and recent employees and contributors, their immediate family members, and significant others. Anyone who matches this description has always been invited to play. This does and will continue to include: unathletic staff writers, senior citizen cartoonists who can't run quite as fast as they used to, delicate editorial assistants in high heels, children, factcheckers.

Our team is worse (winning-wise) and better (camaraderie-wise) for this democratic/Midwestern ethic. I've had to instruct dilettantes which way to run in the event they actually hit the ball. I've shown rookies which hand to put the glove on if they throw with their right. But I've never had to explain to a capable nine-year-old why he shouldn't be allowed to play a casual game with friendly adults.

As for the Gopniks: in the past few games, both have made hits, scored runs, and made plays in the field. And on our team, that means... well, let's just say I don't plan to trade them away.

We're playing tonight, Tuesday, against Simon and Schuster. It's on Central Park North Meadow Field #11, at 7pm. You and your readers and anonymous correspondents are welcome to come spectate, assuming you don't mind risking a bit of disillusionment.

Matt Dellinger
Coach

Earlier: One of These Days, Gopnik, Pow! To the Moon!