While Tommy was raking in cash, the Braves’ public relations director, Lexie Doolittle, was practically tearing out her hair.
“What will it take to get you to make some personal appearances for the Braves?” she asked Tommy one afternoon on a phone call. “You’re our hottest player. Why won’t you agree to speak to some civic organizations?”
Tommy, reclining on a sofa in his Buckhead apartment, sat up a bit. “I’m just too busy right now, Lexie.”
“But it’s the off-season,” she replied.
“I know, but I got my house going up, and I’m looking around to buy a yacht to keep down in Florida.”
“Tommy, these fundraisers are for good causes. You’ve given me every excuse in the book, and frankly, some are pretty ridiculous.”
Tommy went on defense. “Which ones?” he asked.
“You wouldn’t speak to the
