Ex-1st baseman Huff: ‘I was an absolute scumbag’
SAN FRANCISCO — Sitting at a corner table last month, with an expansive view of the city he once thrilled, Aubrey Huff was in a pretty good mood for someone attending his own funeral. Huff, who also played for Tampa Bay from 2000-06, was there to raise a glass (of water) to the demise of his alter ego. He was there to bury the side of himself Giants fans once adored.
“Yeah, he's dead. And I'm glad,” Huff said that day. “Because ‘Huff Daddy’ was just an insecure, scared [witless] little kid trying to be somebody he's not.”
Huff Daddy may be dead. But the real Aubrey Huff isn't exactly resting in peace. The thong-waving first baseman from the 2010 World Series team spent much of last Sunday angering his once loyal fan base. He took to Twitter to mock anti-Trump protesters, then handled the ensuing debate by boasting about his wealth and lifestyle. He did not skimp on the personal insults. Huff, 40, has since apologized — for his behavior, not his politics — but that did little to quell the backlash.
By the time his self-published “Baseball Junkie” was released on Amazon.com on Wednesday, it was already savaged by onestar reviews from people who were unlikely to have read it yet. Over the course of two interviews, one before the Twitter barrage and one after, Huff made it clear that he understands why people dislike him. After all, he spent much of his life doing the same thing.
Huff is the villain of his own autobiography. By his own blunt account, he spent his Giants career, from 2010-12, as a pill-popping, lie-spinning, egomaniac who disrespected his wife and endangered his kids.
“I was an absolute scumbag for the most of my life,” he writes.
And over the course of 250 pages he establishes that case beyond a reasonable doubt. He took Adderall before games and 12-15 beers afterward so he could pass out asleep. The long list of transgressions documented in “Baseball Junkie” include, but are not limited to, reckless gambling binges, driving drunk, faked prescriptions and a dalliance with a pair of Hooters waitresses that nearly cost him his marriage.
“I would go to these casinos in Tampa, nightly, by myself,” Huff says over lunch. “I'd leave my family at home, my newborn babies, my wife, and I'd be out gambling till 4 or 5 in the morning, pissing away tens of thousands of dollars, high as a kite.”
As a result, Huff has been through tougher times than a misguided evening on Twitter. For example, there was the time in 2014 when he was sobbing at the bottom of his closet and holding a .357 Magnum to his temple.
“I've got the hammer back and ... ” Huff said over lunch, his voice trailing off. “I don't think I was going to do it. But I just wanted to look at myself in the mirror.
“That's just the weird place I was in life. I knew I was in trouble then. I just really started freaking out . ... I'm thinking, ‘Gosh, man, am I going to kill myself?' ”
Huff and co-author Stephen Cassar collaborated on this unsettling memoir in hopes of rescuing others from his path of anxiety, depression, addiction and thoughts of suicide. It's a small-scale book, and the writing is raw, but Huff figured it might find a niche audience as a comeback story. Huff said his ideal reader is a young ballplayer debating whether or not to take that first dose of illicit Adderrall.
Huff famously capped San Francisco's first World Series parade by standing on the steps of City Hall, reaching into his pants and fishing out his red rhinestone-encrusted underwear. The mere sight of the fabled “Rally Thong” sent hundreds of thousands of fans into delirium.
Huff says now that that within a day of that raucous celebration, he woke up and asked his wife, “Why do I feel so unhappy?”
The book is a search for an answer to that question. It's all here: a nervous breakdown, a crumbling marriage and a stint at a rehabilitation center.