It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. For the past few weeks Jose has been away from the Red Sox, isolated far away from his beloved Boston on a continent that both begins and ends with the letter “A.” (Note: Sorry Europe, everyone else stays in the game.) While being away has its share of hardships, being unable to attend games foremost among them, it is not without its advantages. Most notable Jose has the rare opportunity to view this Red Sox team with fresh eyes, or more accurately, no eyes.
Remember the parable of the blind men and the elephant? A few blind men are feeling up an elephant and they each get a dramatically different idea of what an elephant is based on the part of the beast they are fondling.
The man feeling the elephant's flank says, “Ah, an elephant is like a tree.”
“No, no,” says the man feeling the tail. “An elephant is like a stalk of wheat.”
“You’re both wrong,” says the man touching the trunk. “The elephant is like Ron Jeremy.” (Note: Kapow.)
While Jose, as a general rule is no better than equal to one blind man or two deaf-mutes, at this level of remove, Jose has the opportunity to equal at least three blind men, making him the equal of an entire NBA officiating crew, but without a gambling problem.
So how would a group of blind men see the 2008 Boston Red Sox at this juncture, you know, assuming that they actually weren’t blind at all, but were just really, really narrow minded so they could only see part of the team at a time.
The first blind man, let’s call him Ray, would feel up Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz and say “Ah, the Red Sox are like a locomotive, powerful and right on track.”
The second blind man, named Stevie, would grab hold of Jacoby Ellsbury, Rococo Crisp, and Julio Lugo and say “The Red Sox are like a Dalmatian that mated with a brown-haired thoroughbred horse, black white and brown and fast as hell.” Stevie does not have a great grasp of speciation.
A third blind man, called Usher (note: Doesn’t some African-American musician have to learn to play piano and then go blind once Stevie is gone, or maybe even now, since Ray is gone. Aren’t they like the Sith, there are always two, no more, no less? And you know it won’t be 50 Cent, unless he gets shot in the eye. Who already plays piano?) would grab hold of the middle relief and say, “No, no, you’re wrong. The Red Sox are like a vacuum cleaner, they do nothing but suck.”
But then a fourth sightless companion would come along, let’s call her Helen. Helen would grab hold of the starting rotation. She’d run her hands carefully over Beckett, Dice, Lester, Bartolo, Clay and Wake. Somewhere, Derek Lowe would be watching, lamenting his Sox days gone and wishing that the hot blind chick would be running her hands over him. And then Helen would pause thoughtfully and, twinkle in her glassy eyes, offer the true essence of the Red Sox. “Mmphellesss,” she would sagely state. “Mmmmphelless, waaaattaaahhhh.”
And that friends, is what the 2008 Red Sox, truly are.
2. Okay, that’s great. Now that Jose has made a Helen Keller joke the day after sending a link to KEYS to a prospective employer, he will have plenty of time to write. Good thinking Jose!
In the country where Jose is currently stationed, let’s call it Freedonia, there was recently a failed coup attempt and the former president alleged to be involved, let’s call him Groucho, was sent off to jail. While Jose is, as a matter of principle, deeply opposed to the overthrow of democratically elected governments, he does kind of wish that this sort of “Freedonia model” might be exported to Major League Baseball.
Yes, Jose knows that Buddy Leroux tried it once before, but he made a fatal mistake, he failed to get the army behind him before overthrowing Jean Yawkey and declaring himself Owner. If Buddy had stormed Yawkey Way with three highly trained and loyal divisions, there is no way, Mrs. Yawkey could have taken the team back. She was just a little old lady. There’s no way she could have handled more than two divisions.
But just because it failed once, doesn’t mean that it will fail again. Jose, of course, does not wish to see a coup in the Red Sox organization. We are blessed to be ruled by a benevolent triumvirate that keeps us up to our necks in wine and orgies. Well, keeps the players up to their necks in wine and orgies anyways. Or maybe, Jose was just thinking about Derek Lowe again. (Note: Apologies to DLowe the Paranoid Android, there is no evidence that he ever cheated on his wife with more than one woman in a single sitting or that he was a wine drinker. DLowe always seemed like more of a vodka drunk.)
No, Jose would kind of like to see a coup inside the Yankees organization. The way Jose sees it going down is that former Yankees GM Bob Watson using the armed divisions he must get as MLB’s discipline czar, would overthrow Brian Cashman and Hank Steinbrenner and appoint himself GM for Life, President of the New York Yankees, First Citizen of Yankee Nation and Lion of the Bronx. Then for a façade of legitimacy, he would replace Hank as principle owner with Hank’s own father, the recently deposed George Steinbrenner.
George would call a press conference to declare his dramatic return. As he looked directly into the camera, a twinkle in his glassy eyes would offer the true essence of the Yankees. “Mmphellesss,” the senile old man would sagely state. “Mmmmphelless, waaaattaaahhhh.”
3. Jose would like to offer a hearty thank you to Hillary Clinton. Yes, Jose has been kind of tough on her these past few months, but he now wants to put aside the bitterness and offer a heartfelt thank you.
Thank you, Hil-Rod (note: remember you said wrestling fans can call you that) Thank you, thank you. Hil-Rod. Thank you because by comparing the Democratic Party’s refusal to recognize the votes in the meaningless, non-sanctioned Florida and Michigan primaries to Jim Crow and Mugabe’s Zimbabwe, you have now made it totally acceptable for Jose to compare any event in baseball’s preseason to historical events such as the siege of Sarajevo and the massacre at Katyn.
Just as your husband made it socially acceptably to receive oral sex from interns under a desk, you have made it acceptable to trivialize monstrous events in human history by comparing them to contests that don’t count.
Thank you so much. Already, Jose is writing the story explaining how Julian Tavarez punching Joey Gathright in the face in a preseason game a while back is the same as the Darfur crisis.
Again, thank you for this wonderful contribution to our public discourse.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Friday, May 30
Monday, May 12
5 vs. 1
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Should Julio Yugo continue as the Red Sox starting shortstop? That’s the question on everyone’s lips like so much dried spittle these days isn’t it?
The easy answer is “No of course not. What are you a moron? He can’t hit and now he can’t field either.” But that answer is only easy in the sense that Madonna is easy—everyone has used it. But that does not necessarily mean that this exhibitionist whore of an answer is correct.
Jose would like to offer an alternative answer, more chaste and refined, and therefore, more alluring while ultimately far less satisfying: We should keep Julio Yugo as the shortstop.
Now, Jose knows this isn’t the answer you want to hear, but stay with him for a moment. Jose is not proposing that the Red Sox leave things exactly as they are. That would be crazy.
What Jose is proposing is that they adopt a strategy more appropriate for our disposable, throw away, “Screw you Al Gore” society. Back when Jose was maybe 13 years old, he got the brilliant idea that rather than buying one nice car for say $15,000 (note: quite a bit in 1989 dollars), one could buy five Yugos for approximately $3,000 each and get more total years of use. Instead of driving a Toyota Camry for 12 years, you could get three years a piece out of each of the five Yugos and come out ahead.
This is what we should do with Julio Yugo. Rather than hoping to get a full 12-year career out of Jed Lowrie, we should just take five Julio Yugos. Perfect right?
There is, however, a minor hole in this plan. Julio Yugo has the price tag of a nice car and the performance of a Titoist spin on the Fiat.
2. Following another excellent game in which he hit a triple and a two-run homer, Rococo Crisp, once the odd man out in the Boston outfield, told the Boston Herald “I’m just going with the flow.”
Jose always expected that Crisp would one day start peppering his press conferences with product placements, but he always imagined it would be for breakfast cereals, you know, because his name sounds like Crispix…
Jose never thought that he would jump into pharmaceutical advertising and start promoting prostate products like Flomax. Obviously, Flomax advertises constantly during games, but Jose just never saw them doing direct product placements in post game press conferences. But we should probably just get used to it this is probably the start of a trend.
3. In other Julio Yugo news, the embattled shortstop underwent a CT scan during Saturday’s game. According to the Boston Globe, the scan came back negative, which is no big surprise as “CT,” Jose is pretty sure, stand for “catching” and “throwing.”
Jose is pretty sure that Lugo’s SLG scan will come back negative too.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Should Julio Yugo continue as the Red Sox starting shortstop? That’s the question on everyone’s lips like so much dried spittle these days isn’t it?
The easy answer is “No of course not. What are you a moron? He can’t hit and now he can’t field either.” But that answer is only easy in the sense that Madonna is easy—everyone has used it. But that does not necessarily mean that this exhibitionist whore of an answer is correct.
Jose would like to offer an alternative answer, more chaste and refined, and therefore, more alluring while ultimately far less satisfying: We should keep Julio Yugo as the shortstop.
Now, Jose knows this isn’t the answer you want to hear, but stay with him for a moment. Jose is not proposing that the Red Sox leave things exactly as they are. That would be crazy.
What Jose is proposing is that they adopt a strategy more appropriate for our disposable, throw away, “Screw you Al Gore” society. Back when Jose was maybe 13 years old, he got the brilliant idea that rather than buying one nice car for say $15,000 (note: quite a bit in 1989 dollars), one could buy five Yugos for approximately $3,000 each and get more total years of use. Instead of driving a Toyota Camry for 12 years, you could get three years a piece out of each of the five Yugos and come out ahead.
This is what we should do with Julio Yugo. Rather than hoping to get a full 12-year career out of Jed Lowrie, we should just take five Julio Yugos. Perfect right?
There is, however, a minor hole in this plan. Julio Yugo has the price tag of a nice car and the performance of a Titoist spin on the Fiat.
2. Following another excellent game in which he hit a triple and a two-run homer, Rococo Crisp, once the odd man out in the Boston outfield, told the Boston Herald “I’m just going with the flow.”
Jose always expected that Crisp would one day start peppering his press conferences with product placements, but he always imagined it would be for breakfast cereals, you know, because his name sounds like Crispix…
Jose never thought that he would jump into pharmaceutical advertising and start promoting prostate products like Flomax. Obviously, Flomax advertises constantly during games, but Jose just never saw them doing direct product placements in post game press conferences. But we should probably just get used to it this is probably the start of a trend.
3. In other Julio Yugo news, the embattled shortstop underwent a CT scan during Saturday’s game. According to the Boston Globe, the scan came back negative, which is no big surprise as “CT,” Jose is pretty sure, stand for “catching” and “throwing.”
Jose is pretty sure that Lugo’s SLG scan will come back negative too.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Saturday, May 10
Hell is...
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. We are now more than a month into the “Jose will not be an every day writer” era, and Jose has to be honest, it’s not going great.
Jose thought it would be terrific. Less work = more free time = greater happiness. By the transitive property of equality, that should mean than less work = greater happiness. And yet, it hasn’t gone that way. Ergo, mathematics is bullsh*t and 1+1 probably does equal 3, and Sir Isaac Newton is a jerk. Instead of enjoying life, sipping wine on the banks of the Seine or possibly the Tiber and the like, Jose has ended up with nothing from the whole exercise save for greater empathy for “The Coral Axe” Alex Cora.
Jose used to have the life of Manny Ramirez. He was in the game pretty much every day except for when he didn’t feel like it. It was a good life. But now, Jose is removed from the game, lonely and distant, participating only when things line up perfectly, like when you are given the field sobriety test but are actually sober.
How does Cora do it? How?
The answer, Jose believes, is that he fills up his free time with other pursuits, studying architecture, epistemology and the classics, doing all of the things that make him, as Tito says, “the smartest player in the game.” But Jose isn’t smart like Alex Cora. He can’t understand spherical trigonometry or read lesser novels of Dostoyevsky in the original Russian. So instead he sulks like Achilles in his tent or A-Rod without shemales, and slowly, slowly goes mad from the boredom of it all.
And then, when at last the call comes, when Jose’s services are once again needed and he must join in the game, Jose remains Cora-like, aloof and disengaged, unable to participate in any meaningful way. It is awful. Even worse it is ungodly.
Which brings us to the nature of hell. Dante will tell you that hell is a horrifying combination of fire and ice and if you are really bad, a three-headed beast gnawing eternally on your head. Dante Bichette will tell you that it is a diet. The Pope claims it is a sense of total separation from God. And old J.P. Sartre? He will smugly refer you to No Exit, and after you have squandered a few hours, you will learn that hell is other people. But they are wrong. They are all wrong.
Jose knows the truth. He does not know what he did to deserve the bitter knowledge, but know it he does.
Hell is being Alex Cora.
But you already knew that didn’t you? Here’s the really weird thing, though. Heaven is being Joey Cora. It’s right there in Paradiso; in the ninth sphere you get to be Joey Cora, but no one knows that because the only part of the Divine Comedy anyone ever reads in Inferno.
2. How manifold are the delights of the Roger Clemens debacle? Really manifold. Really, really manifold. But of all of the delights, there are none more delightful than the news that he once hit on the wife of wrestling legend Brutus “The Barber” Beefcake.
Lot’s of people have gotten in their little jabs at Clemens for this small immorality, but none have had Jose’s unique qualifications to comment on the matter. As a result, the typical analysis is something like “Well, they’d better settle this inside a steel cage.” Pathetic. You call that insight?
What would a steel cage match settle? Nothing. If wrestling has taught Jose anything, it’s that women are basically chattel to be won as the result of fake combat, more or less the same lesson as he learned from the crusades. So clearly, Clemens and Beefcake should have a match with the love of Mrs. Beefcake on the line. Since Clemens claims to be from Texas even though he is actually from Ohio, it would have to be a Texas bull rope match, wherein the two combatants are lashed to each other with a thick, braided rope. The first man to touch all four corners of the ring in succession is victorious.
This is a good deal for Clemens, because inevitably, the guy who is not the husband wins these matches. Then Roger would get Mrs. Beefcake who would hate him for a while, but then eventually come around and start loving him and talking in the ring about how he was a much better lover than Brutus. For a guy whose testicles are probably shriveled from years of steroid abuse, this would be a nice touch. Even better for Roger, Debbie Clemens would have to end up leaving him for Beefcake as a result of the debacle because that’s just how these things go.
So Clemens would get the woman he hit on, and loose the bedazzling Mrs. Clemens. Why wouldn’t he do this? And better still, he would be moving into a sport where his use of steroids is socially acceptable, and even if he killed his wife and K kids, which is about the only thing he could do now to get more unpopular, he would still get a full length special on USA Network.
3. As Jose wrote all of this in a café in a major American League metropolis, a bunch of protestors marched by ending a demand to 60 years of terror. At first Jose thought they were demanding an end to the Yawkey Era, but then Jose remembered that he’s not in Boston and that it’s not 1993. Also, the crowd seemed to really hate Jews, so they’d probably be pro-Tom Yawkey right?
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. We are now more than a month into the “Jose will not be an every day writer” era, and Jose has to be honest, it’s not going great.
Jose thought it would be terrific. Less work = more free time = greater happiness. By the transitive property of equality, that should mean than less work = greater happiness. And yet, it hasn’t gone that way. Ergo, mathematics is bullsh*t and 1+1 probably does equal 3, and Sir Isaac Newton is a jerk. Instead of enjoying life, sipping wine on the banks of the Seine or possibly the Tiber and the like, Jose has ended up with nothing from the whole exercise save for greater empathy for “The Coral Axe” Alex Cora.
Jose used to have the life of Manny Ramirez. He was in the game pretty much every day except for when he didn’t feel like it. It was a good life. But now, Jose is removed from the game, lonely and distant, participating only when things line up perfectly, like when you are given the field sobriety test but are actually sober.
How does Cora do it? How?
The answer, Jose believes, is that he fills up his free time with other pursuits, studying architecture, epistemology and the classics, doing all of the things that make him, as Tito says, “the smartest player in the game.” But Jose isn’t smart like Alex Cora. He can’t understand spherical trigonometry or read lesser novels of Dostoyevsky in the original Russian. So instead he sulks like Achilles in his tent or A-Rod without shemales, and slowly, slowly goes mad from the boredom of it all.
And then, when at last the call comes, when Jose’s services are once again needed and he must join in the game, Jose remains Cora-like, aloof and disengaged, unable to participate in any meaningful way. It is awful. Even worse it is ungodly.
Which brings us to the nature of hell. Dante will tell you that hell is a horrifying combination of fire and ice and if you are really bad, a three-headed beast gnawing eternally on your head. Dante Bichette will tell you that it is a diet. The Pope claims it is a sense of total separation from God. And old J.P. Sartre? He will smugly refer you to No Exit, and after you have squandered a few hours, you will learn that hell is other people. But they are wrong. They are all wrong.
Jose knows the truth. He does not know what he did to deserve the bitter knowledge, but know it he does.
Hell is being Alex Cora.
But you already knew that didn’t you? Here’s the really weird thing, though. Heaven is being Joey Cora. It’s right there in Paradiso; in the ninth sphere you get to be Joey Cora, but no one knows that because the only part of the Divine Comedy anyone ever reads in Inferno.
2. How manifold are the delights of the Roger Clemens debacle? Really manifold. Really, really manifold. But of all of the delights, there are none more delightful than the news that he once hit on the wife of wrestling legend Brutus “The Barber” Beefcake.
Lot’s of people have gotten in their little jabs at Clemens for this small immorality, but none have had Jose’s unique qualifications to comment on the matter. As a result, the typical analysis is something like “Well, they’d better settle this inside a steel cage.” Pathetic. You call that insight?
What would a steel cage match settle? Nothing. If wrestling has taught Jose anything, it’s that women are basically chattel to be won as the result of fake combat, more or less the same lesson as he learned from the crusades. So clearly, Clemens and Beefcake should have a match with the love of Mrs. Beefcake on the line. Since Clemens claims to be from Texas even though he is actually from Ohio, it would have to be a Texas bull rope match, wherein the two combatants are lashed to each other with a thick, braided rope. The first man to touch all four corners of the ring in succession is victorious.
This is a good deal for Clemens, because inevitably, the guy who is not the husband wins these matches. Then Roger would get Mrs. Beefcake who would hate him for a while, but then eventually come around and start loving him and talking in the ring about how he was a much better lover than Brutus. For a guy whose testicles are probably shriveled from years of steroid abuse, this would be a nice touch. Even better for Roger, Debbie Clemens would have to end up leaving him for Beefcake as a result of the debacle because that’s just how these things go.
So Clemens would get the woman he hit on, and loose the bedazzling Mrs. Clemens. Why wouldn’t he do this? And better still, he would be moving into a sport where his use of steroids is socially acceptable, and even if he killed his wife and K kids, which is about the only thing he could do now to get more unpopular, he would still get a full length special on USA Network.
3. As Jose wrote all of this in a café in a major American League metropolis, a bunch of protestors marched by ending a demand to 60 years of terror. At first Jose thought they were demanding an end to the Yawkey Era, but then Jose remembered that he’s not in Boston and that it’s not 1993. Also, the crowd seemed to really hate Jews, so they’d probably be pro-Tom Yawkey right?
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Thursday, May 8
Red Sox Nationalism
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Nationalism is a problem.
Yes it can offer benefits, a sense of unity and purpose, a desire, as John McCain has said, to become part of something greater than oneself. But it also leads, almost inevitably, to arrogance, elitism and prejudice. Anyone who has spent as much time in the Balkans as Jose (note: four weeks) knows exactly how destructive nationalism can be and will come to view it with a fearful mix of respect and loathing.
And yet, without nationalism, can a nation ever truly be forged? Could Italian city-states have become one kind of resolute and more or less stable nation without nationalism? Could the United States have formed a nation out of a mélange of peoples without creating a nationalism based not on ethnicity, but the idea of Americanness? Could hundreds of German states… wait… okay let’s skip that one.
Since 1967, we Red Sox fans have slowly become a nation. We know this because Leisure Suit Larry Lucchino tells us so. But marketing aside, at this point it is undeniable. However, it is equally undeniable that we could not have become a Red Sox nation without a Red Sox nationalism.
Prussian thinker Johann Gottfried Herder reframed the idea of the nation as a Volknation a “folk-nation” motivated by the Volkgeist, “the spirit of the people.” Does the Red Sox Nation have a Volkgeist? Herder would certainly say so. He looked to language and cultural traditions to form the chalky outlines of the people’s divine form. Language, folklore, music, dance, we have them all. Every time a drunkard yells “A-Rod you wicked suck,” he is feeding into the Volkgeist. Dance? The wave is nothing more than the undulating heave of a nation in motion. Music? From Jess Cain’s Yaz Song, to Red Sox Mabmo #5, to Tessie, to Sweet Caroline, to Dirty Water, Red Sox nation can compete with any of that Bach or Mozart the Germans used to define themselves, provided Bach and Mozart dumbed down their music by 99% and later confessed to some weird feelings about Caroline Kennedy. And folklore? What is the “Curse of the Bambino” if not our version of the Brother’s Grimm, an absurd and terrifying account of things that are almost entirely fictional.
These are all good things, except for the Shaughnessy book, these symbols of our nationalism, but we would do well to remember that nationalism is not all good, to be vigilant against excess. There was an incident in New Hampshire several days ago wherein a fan of the New York Yankees, (note: Jose was going to write the Russia to our Germany but that made him a little sick. Then he was going to write the Germany to our Russia, but that also made him sick, so he settled on the Norway to our Sweden), responded to the “Yankees Suck” chant, the ancient cry of our people, with violence. This Yankees fan used her motor vehicle as a weapon, literally running down a group of Red Sox fans, murdering one. First, allow Jose to say that this is messed up. Really sick, horrible stuff, like worse than Roger Clemens horrible. Second, let’s not let the Red Sox Nationalism take us to those dark places.
We are not like Germany or Russia; we are better than them. We are fueled not my hatred of the other, but by love of our fellow citizens.
Let us not let Red Sox nationalism take us down the twisted path to madness, violence and death. It is all well and good to talk like a nation, think like a nation and act like a nation, but to destroy like a nation? To war like a nation? If that is the price of Red Sox Nationalism, Jose would be just fine being a Red Sox City-State.
2. The Red Sox blew a dramatic come from behind victory last night in part due to the 10th error of the year by embattled shortstop Julio Lugo. Lugo is one of those Red Sox players Jose has never managed to come up with a nickname for, but at last, after a good fielding horribly hitting 2007 and a better hitting but horrible fielding first month of 2008, Jose feels obliged to come up with something. Also, he didn’t see the game last night, so he is better off working on names than commenting on actual performance.
Here’s what Jose has come up with after three, perhaps even four minutes of work: Julio Yugo.
At first it seems obvious, crappy shortstop, crappy car—perfect.
But it is far more nuanced than that. The Yugo was introduced with great fanfare as a useful little thing that would fill a variety of needs, not flashy, but effective. Sound familiar? But it never settled into the U.S. market, and is ultimately regarded as one of the great disasters in automotive history.
The history of the Yugo is the history of Julio Lugo.
That said the comparison is not perfect. The Yugo, for all of its flaws, was at least cheap.
3. KEYS TO THE GAME fanboy Curt Euro took a major step in his rehabilitation from a shoulder injury this week, when he took a turn throwing from 60 feet (note: 20 yards). If he is able to throw at that distance without pain, he will immediately be the leading candidate for quarterback of the New York Jets.
Euro’s apparent recovery comes after he followed a routine of rest and rehabilitation recommended by the Red Sox. Euro and his doctors had insisted that surgery was the correct course of action. While Euro conceded that time has shown that the Red Sox recommendation was correct, his friend, Republican Presidential nominee John McCain, insisted that this proved, more then ever, the need for surgery.
“I don’t care if he needs to have 100 surgeries,” said a defiant McCain. “Our objective is for Curt’s shoulder not to hurt. And we will keep cutting into his shoulder until it does not hurt anymore. Only then, will it be safe for have further surgeries.”
McCain continued “His surgeries, will of course, be covered under my health insurance plan, provided that they are not for an actual injury.”
With his recovery underway, Euro’s next task is to figure out how to meet the weight incentives included in his contract. Euro is unlikely to make weight due to the weight gain that is a well-known side effect of arm injuries.
As an alternative Euro has suggested a buoyancy incentive (note: credit to Dr. Katz Professional Therapist).
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Nationalism is a problem.
Yes it can offer benefits, a sense of unity and purpose, a desire, as John McCain has said, to become part of something greater than oneself. But it also leads, almost inevitably, to arrogance, elitism and prejudice. Anyone who has spent as much time in the Balkans as Jose (note: four weeks) knows exactly how destructive nationalism can be and will come to view it with a fearful mix of respect and loathing.
And yet, without nationalism, can a nation ever truly be forged? Could Italian city-states have become one kind of resolute and more or less stable nation without nationalism? Could the United States have formed a nation out of a mélange of peoples without creating a nationalism based not on ethnicity, but the idea of Americanness? Could hundreds of German states… wait… okay let’s skip that one.
Since 1967, we Red Sox fans have slowly become a nation. We know this because Leisure Suit Larry Lucchino tells us so. But marketing aside, at this point it is undeniable. However, it is equally undeniable that we could not have become a Red Sox nation without a Red Sox nationalism.
Prussian thinker Johann Gottfried Herder reframed the idea of the nation as a Volknation a “folk-nation” motivated by the Volkgeist, “the spirit of the people.” Does the Red Sox Nation have a Volkgeist? Herder would certainly say so. He looked to language and cultural traditions to form the chalky outlines of the people’s divine form. Language, folklore, music, dance, we have them all. Every time a drunkard yells “A-Rod you wicked suck,” he is feeding into the Volkgeist. Dance? The wave is nothing more than the undulating heave of a nation in motion. Music? From Jess Cain’s Yaz Song, to Red Sox Mabmo #5, to Tessie, to Sweet Caroline, to Dirty Water, Red Sox nation can compete with any of that Bach or Mozart the Germans used to define themselves, provided Bach and Mozart dumbed down their music by 99% and later confessed to some weird feelings about Caroline Kennedy. And folklore? What is the “Curse of the Bambino” if not our version of the Brother’s Grimm, an absurd and terrifying account of things that are almost entirely fictional.
These are all good things, except for the Shaughnessy book, these symbols of our nationalism, but we would do well to remember that nationalism is not all good, to be vigilant against excess. There was an incident in New Hampshire several days ago wherein a fan of the New York Yankees, (note: Jose was going to write the Russia to our Germany but that made him a little sick. Then he was going to write the Germany to our Russia, but that also made him sick, so he settled on the Norway to our Sweden), responded to the “Yankees Suck” chant, the ancient cry of our people, with violence. This Yankees fan used her motor vehicle as a weapon, literally running down a group of Red Sox fans, murdering one. First, allow Jose to say that this is messed up. Really sick, horrible stuff, like worse than Roger Clemens horrible. Second, let’s not let the Red Sox Nationalism take us to those dark places.
We are not like Germany or Russia; we are better than them. We are fueled not my hatred of the other, but by love of our fellow citizens.
Let us not let Red Sox nationalism take us down the twisted path to madness, violence and death. It is all well and good to talk like a nation, think like a nation and act like a nation, but to destroy like a nation? To war like a nation? If that is the price of Red Sox Nationalism, Jose would be just fine being a Red Sox City-State.
2. The Red Sox blew a dramatic come from behind victory last night in part due to the 10th error of the year by embattled shortstop Julio Lugo. Lugo is one of those Red Sox players Jose has never managed to come up with a nickname for, but at last, after a good fielding horribly hitting 2007 and a better hitting but horrible fielding first month of 2008, Jose feels obliged to come up with something. Also, he didn’t see the game last night, so he is better off working on names than commenting on actual performance.
Here’s what Jose has come up with after three, perhaps even four minutes of work: Julio Yugo.
At first it seems obvious, crappy shortstop, crappy car—perfect.
But it is far more nuanced than that. The Yugo was introduced with great fanfare as a useful little thing that would fill a variety of needs, not flashy, but effective. Sound familiar? But it never settled into the U.S. market, and is ultimately regarded as one of the great disasters in automotive history.
The history of the Yugo is the history of Julio Lugo.
That said the comparison is not perfect. The Yugo, for all of its flaws, was at least cheap.
3. KEYS TO THE GAME fanboy Curt Euro took a major step in his rehabilitation from a shoulder injury this week, when he took a turn throwing from 60 feet (note: 20 yards). If he is able to throw at that distance without pain, he will immediately be the leading candidate for quarterback of the New York Jets.
Euro’s apparent recovery comes after he followed a routine of rest and rehabilitation recommended by the Red Sox. Euro and his doctors had insisted that surgery was the correct course of action. While Euro conceded that time has shown that the Red Sox recommendation was correct, his friend, Republican Presidential nominee John McCain, insisted that this proved, more then ever, the need for surgery.
“I don’t care if he needs to have 100 surgeries,” said a defiant McCain. “Our objective is for Curt’s shoulder not to hurt. And we will keep cutting into his shoulder until it does not hurt anymore. Only then, will it be safe for have further surgeries.”
McCain continued “His surgeries, will of course, be covered under my health insurance plan, provided that they are not for an actual injury.”
With his recovery underway, Euro’s next task is to figure out how to meet the weight incentives included in his contract. Euro is unlikely to make weight due to the weight gain that is a well-known side effect of arm injuries.
As an alternative Euro has suggested a buoyancy incentive (note: credit to Dr. Katz Professional Therapist).
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Thursday, May 1
Defamation of a Character
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Every day, it seems, a new Roger Clemens girlfriend is revealed. And each time, just as it appears that there could not possible be another, we hear of a new lady emerging as unexpected and slathered in make up as a clown from a VW Beetle.
This begs the question, who’s next? It can’t just be three, can it? There must be more. So in the hopes that Roger will sue him for defamation of character, leading to even further public humiliation for the Rocket Man, Jose, gives his list of women who have had affairs with Roger Clemens:
• Rue McClanahan: Remember her character on Golden Girls? She was a really slutty southern dame, which seems to put her right in Clemens’ wheelhouse. Also, if you balance her out with Mindy McCready, that gives him one appropriately-aged mistress.
• Margo Adams: Clemens and Wade Boggs were having simultaneous affairs with Adams. This resulted in an awkward instance wherein Adams got pregnant, and Clemens insisted it was a Boggs error, but Boggs countered that Clemens should not have “pitched inside.”
• Trot Nixon: No wait. He f*cks Roger Clemens, not the other way around.
• Suzyn Waldman: You heard the tape of her. What else could it have been?
• Mata Hari: Traitors run in packs.
• Kim Khardasian: With all of those Ks in her name, how could Roger resist.
2. In a bit of a surprise, Hideki Okajima blew a save last night, allowing an inherited runner to score in the eighth on a sacrifice fly following a double. He ended the inning with two strike outs.
Manager Terry Eurona’s decision to bring in Okajima after Manny of the Carmen had allowed a lead off single puzzled some fans. Jose agrees that departing from Okajima’s normal usage was an unwise move that led, at least indirectly, to the run.
There is no way Tito should have brought Okajima in until it was bases loaded no outs. How could Oki have been expected to perform with only one man on base?
3. While many major league teams might be encouraging players to back off from spring training shenanigans in light of the Clemens Affair, the Red Sox have refused to change anything.
“The one thing we don’t want to do is lose the intimacy of spring training,” said Red Sox Chief Operating Officer Mike Dee.
While Dee’s comments were reported by Nick Cafardo to be in response to a question about moving the spring training home to Sarasota, Sarasota is believed to be baseball slang for “sex with aspiring country musicians” just as “stick” means “bat” and “shooting beaver” means being a peeping tom.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Every day, it seems, a new Roger Clemens girlfriend is revealed. And each time, just as it appears that there could not possible be another, we hear of a new lady emerging as unexpected and slathered in make up as a clown from a VW Beetle.
This begs the question, who’s next? It can’t just be three, can it? There must be more. So in the hopes that Roger will sue him for defamation of character, leading to even further public humiliation for the Rocket Man, Jose, gives his list of women who have had affairs with Roger Clemens:
• Rue McClanahan: Remember her character on Golden Girls? She was a really slutty southern dame, which seems to put her right in Clemens’ wheelhouse. Also, if you balance her out with Mindy McCready, that gives him one appropriately-aged mistress.
• Margo Adams: Clemens and Wade Boggs were having simultaneous affairs with Adams. This resulted in an awkward instance wherein Adams got pregnant, and Clemens insisted it was a Boggs error, but Boggs countered that Clemens should not have “pitched inside.”
• Trot Nixon: No wait. He f*cks Roger Clemens, not the other way around.
• Suzyn Waldman: You heard the tape of her. What else could it have been?
• Mata Hari: Traitors run in packs.
• Kim Khardasian: With all of those Ks in her name, how could Roger resist.
2. In a bit of a surprise, Hideki Okajima blew a save last night, allowing an inherited runner to score in the eighth on a sacrifice fly following a double. He ended the inning with two strike outs.
Manager Terry Eurona’s decision to bring in Okajima after Manny of the Carmen had allowed a lead off single puzzled some fans. Jose agrees that departing from Okajima’s normal usage was an unwise move that led, at least indirectly, to the run.
There is no way Tito should have brought Okajima in until it was bases loaded no outs. How could Oki have been expected to perform with only one man on base?
3. While many major league teams might be encouraging players to back off from spring training shenanigans in light of the Clemens Affair, the Red Sox have refused to change anything.
“The one thing we don’t want to do is lose the intimacy of spring training,” said Red Sox Chief Operating Officer Mike Dee.
While Dee’s comments were reported by Nick Cafardo to be in response to a question about moving the spring training home to Sarasota, Sarasota is believed to be baseball slang for “sex with aspiring country musicians” just as “stick” means “bat” and “shooting beaver” means being a peeping tom.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Tuesday, April 29
Yeats on Clemens
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Into the Twilight
By William Butler Yeats
Adapted by Dan Duquette
Out-Worn arm in a man out-worn,
Unclear of the rules of wrong and right;
Career descends into grey twilight,
Why couldn’t he just have purchased some porn?
The country singer was too young,
He was unfurling to twilight grey;
Forkball went flat and fastball decay,
Burning inside with each curveball he hung.
Stomach where fat was heaped upon fat:
A modern Narcissus, growing old
‘Til H and G and H let him hold
The pitch that let him miss the bat;
Toronto, New York, and Houston too,
His chemical arm stayed strong at his right;
But “love” is less kind in the grey twilight,
A cheater who lied with each pitch that he threw.
2. Jose has an extra ticket for tonight’s game and try as he might, he just can’t unload it. His best guess is that it is either because it is raining or because Jon Lester is pitching. If Jose were forced to guess, he would go with Jon Lester, mostly because he has never heard Georgia Governor Sonny Perdue publicly pray for Jon Lester to come to Atlanta.
On the other hand, there are a few American Indian tribes who do Jon Lester dances when their crops are withering, so who knows.
3. For among the first times in his life Jose can say, without question, that he loves God way more than he loves the Red Sox. (Note to God: It’s a joke, please don’t damn Jose to the Bronx.) And it’s not just sucking up. We are incredibly, incredibly fortunate that God made the world and not the Red Sox.
Because God made the world in six days and then took a day off, we get Sunday off. This is pretty great. Had the Red Sox been tasked with making the world, the Major League schedule makers would have forced them to do it for 20 consecutive days before getting a day off, so we’d all have to work nearly three straight week before having a day of rest. You know, unless Tito promised us one, or we got ejected or both.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Into the Twilight
By William Butler Yeats
Adapted by Dan Duquette
Out-Worn arm in a man out-worn,
Unclear of the rules of wrong and right;
Career descends into grey twilight,
Why couldn’t he just have purchased some porn?
The country singer was too young,
He was unfurling to twilight grey;
Forkball went flat and fastball decay,
Burning inside with each curveball he hung.
Stomach where fat was heaped upon fat:
A modern Narcissus, growing old
‘Til H and G and H let him hold
The pitch that let him miss the bat;
Toronto, New York, and Houston too,
His chemical arm stayed strong at his right;
But “love” is less kind in the grey twilight,
A cheater who lied with each pitch that he threw.
2. Jose has an extra ticket for tonight’s game and try as he might, he just can’t unload it. His best guess is that it is either because it is raining or because Jon Lester is pitching. If Jose were forced to guess, he would go with Jon Lester, mostly because he has never heard Georgia Governor Sonny Perdue publicly pray for Jon Lester to come to Atlanta.
On the other hand, there are a few American Indian tribes who do Jon Lester dances when their crops are withering, so who knows.
3. For among the first times in his life Jose can say, without question, that he loves God way more than he loves the Red Sox. (Note to God: It’s a joke, please don’t damn Jose to the Bronx.) And it’s not just sucking up. We are incredibly, incredibly fortunate that God made the world and not the Red Sox.
Because God made the world in six days and then took a day off, we get Sunday off. This is pretty great. Had the Red Sox been tasked with making the world, the Major League schedule makers would have forced them to do it for 20 consecutive days before getting a day off, so we’d all have to work nearly three straight week before having a day of rest. You know, unless Tito promised us one, or we got ejected or both.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Friday, April 25
Flu-like Symptoms
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Can’t you get a flu shot for like five dollars at CVS? You can and you can get some ice cream while you’re there… unless you go with Joe Girardi.
For the past week the Red Sox clubhouse has been devastated by what must be the worst clubhouse plague since Derek Jeter sent herpes around the Yankee clubhouse in 2005. But it is all preventable.
Not only could the Red Sox have just sent players to CVS for a flu shot, they could have adapted this thing from big business where they invite people to come in and actually give their employees free flu shots.
Come to think of it, that is so obvious that Jose is almost sure the Red Sox must have done it. They’re not stupid. The question then is why didn’t more players get the shot? One explanation is that after the Mitchell report, no one is taking a needle in the clubhouse for any reason. A better explanation would be that Red Sox players as stubborn as Jose’s cousin Sherry. (Note: Dustin Pedroia has something else in common with Sherry—being 4’11”.)
Jose called Sherry a few months ago because he was going to visit her in North Carolina. When she picked up the phone, she sounded, to be generous, like death. She had the flu, it turned out.
“Ummm…. Don’t you work at a hospital? Couldn’t you have gotten a flu shot?” Jose pointed out in his “Jose told you so” voice.
“Yeah,” she conceded.
“So why didn’t you get one?”
“Well, I was thinking about it, but then they made it mandatory, and I was like ‘you’re not going to tell me what to do.’ So I didn’t get one.”
Sound logic from a health professional!
And if its good enough for her, why wouldn’t it me good enough for noted health experts like Jason Varitek and Manny of the Carmen?
Jose can absolutely see a few Red Sox being all for the flu shot right up until they were told they had to get one. In fact, Jose is pretty sure that the union insists that getting flu shots be negotiated into the contract. Don Fehr insists that in return for major league players to receive a flu shot, they should each receive a cigarette boat, three pounds of mackerel and the complete works of Sinclair Lewis.
2. Aside from the general awfulness of Red Sox middle relief, the big story emerging from yesterday’s game was the sharpness of rookie pitcher Justin Masterson in his six inning, one-run major league debut. Masterson benefited from the fact that his sinker was working well and there is a vacant, ready made gimmick available for him.
Masterson is said to be preparing to take the “masterpiece” gimmick from professional wrestler Chris Masters, formerly of the World Wrestling Federation. (Note: If he takes this gimmick, he needs to avoid the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, as there is a good chance he would be kidnapped by guys posing as cops.) Accordingly, Masterson, will enter the field wearing a cape and no shirt, do a little pose down, and dare anyone to hit his special pitch known as “the master lock.” He will probably also be required to get a Master’s Degree, be certified as a Master Electrician, play golf at the Masters, spent time in the clubhouse playing Master Blaster or watching Master and Commander, listen to Metallica’s Master of Puppets or Depeche Mode’s Master and Servant and eat only products of the Masterfoods company.
3. The Red Sox have their first game of the season tonight against the Tampax Bay Rays, formerly the Devil Rays. (Note: If they were going to change their name, they should have changed it to the Dres, for some Yo! MTV Raps/NWA cred.) While rumors have abounded that the club dropped their name in response to concerns that their affiliation with Satan was hurting the gate, those rumors have been largely discounted among pastors not advising John McCain.
The real reason for a name change is part of an ongoing, nationwide tribute to the future 2007-2008 NBA Champion Boston Celtics. Tampax Bay changed its name in order to honor Celtics guard Ray Allen. Other teams from around the country changing their names include The St. Paul Saints becoming the Paul Pierce Saints, The Brown Bears, becoming the Brown PJs and the Perkins School for the Blind becoming the Kendrick Perkins School for the Blind.
When reached for comment, Northwestern University expressed relief that Delonte West is no longer on the Celtics, as having the Delontes as a mascot would not help recruiting.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Can’t you get a flu shot for like five dollars at CVS? You can and you can get some ice cream while you’re there… unless you go with Joe Girardi.
For the past week the Red Sox clubhouse has been devastated by what must be the worst clubhouse plague since Derek Jeter sent herpes around the Yankee clubhouse in 2005. But it is all preventable.
Not only could the Red Sox have just sent players to CVS for a flu shot, they could have adapted this thing from big business where they invite people to come in and actually give their employees free flu shots.
Come to think of it, that is so obvious that Jose is almost sure the Red Sox must have done it. They’re not stupid. The question then is why didn’t more players get the shot? One explanation is that after the Mitchell report, no one is taking a needle in the clubhouse for any reason. A better explanation would be that Red Sox players as stubborn as Jose’s cousin Sherry. (Note: Dustin Pedroia has something else in common with Sherry—being 4’11”.)
Jose called Sherry a few months ago because he was going to visit her in North Carolina. When she picked up the phone, she sounded, to be generous, like death. She had the flu, it turned out.
“Ummm…. Don’t you work at a hospital? Couldn’t you have gotten a flu shot?” Jose pointed out in his “Jose told you so” voice.
“Yeah
“So why didn’t you get one?”
“Well, I was thinking about it, but then they made it mandatory, and I was like ‘you’re not going to tell me what to do.’ So I didn’t get one.”
Sound logic from a health professional!
And if its good enough for her, why wouldn’t it me good enough for noted health experts like Jason Varitek and Manny of the Carmen?
Jose can absolutely see a few Red Sox being all for the flu shot right up until they were told they had to get one. In fact, Jose is pretty sure that the union insists that getting flu shots be negotiated into the contract. Don Fehr insists that in return for major league players to receive a flu shot, they should each receive a cigarette boat, three pounds of mackerel and the complete works of Sinclair Lewis.
2. Aside from the general awfulness of Red Sox middle relief, the big story emerging from yesterday’s game was the sharpness of rookie pitcher Justin Masterson in his six inning, one-run major league debut. Masterson benefited from the fact that his sinker was working well and there is a vacant, ready made gimmick available for him.
Masterson is said to be preparing to take the “masterpiece” gimmick from professional wrestler Chris Masters, formerly of the World Wrestling Federation. (Note: If he takes this gimmick, he needs to avoid the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, as there is a good chance he would be kidnapped by guys posing as cops.) Accordingly, Masterson, will enter the field wearing a cape and no shirt, do a little pose down, and dare anyone to hit his special pitch known as “the master lock.” He will probably also be required to get a Master’s Degree, be certified as a Master Electrician, play golf at the Masters, spent time in the clubhouse playing Master Blaster or watching Master and Commander, listen to Metallica’s Master of Puppets or Depeche Mode’s Master and Servant and eat only products of the Masterfoods company.
3. The Red Sox have their first game of the season tonight against the Tampax Bay Rays, formerly the Devil Rays. (Note: If they were going to change their name, they should have changed it to the Dres, for some Yo! MTV Raps/NWA cred.) While rumors have abounded that the club dropped their name in response to concerns that their affiliation with Satan was hurting the gate, those rumors have been largely discounted among pastors not advising John McCain.
The real reason for a name change is part of an ongoing, nationwide tribute to the future 2007-2008 NBA Champion Boston Celtics. Tampax Bay changed its name in order to honor Celtics guard Ray Allen. Other teams from around the country changing their names include The St. Paul Saints becoming the Paul Pierce Saints, The Brown Bears, becoming the Brown PJs and the Perkins School for the Blind becoming the Kendrick Perkins School for the Blind.
When reached for comment, Northwestern University expressed relief that Delonte West is no longer on the Celtics, as having the Delontes as a mascot would not help recruiting.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
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