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.
Showing posts with label Okajima. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Okajima. Show all posts
Thursday, May 1
Sunday, October 7
10/7/07--ALDS Game 3: Angles in the Outfield, Flies Over the Wall
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME
1.
God in His wisdom made the fly
And then forgot to tell us why.
-Ogden Nash "The Fly"
Jose is pretty sure that we know the answer to that one now.
Friday was a big day for those of us who have ever wondered if every thing on our crazy little sphere has a purpose, if each and every act and creature no matter how seemingly random or unimportant is part of some grand design.
If Ogden Nash were still here today, Jose wonders if he wouldn’t add a bit more to his two perfect lines? Jose has noticed lots of hack writers getting rich writing “sequels” to books by other people, as if “Mr. Darcy Presents His Bride” wasn’t just Jane Austen fan fiction.
Ergo, Jose thought he should give it a g
The Fly II
By Jose Melendez, a sequel to The Fly by Ogden Nash
(Note: Name borrowed by the film “The Fly II: Like Father Like Son”
God in His wisdom made the fly
And then forgot to tell us why.
But God’s work’s never out of sight
Not here on this Lake Erie night.
A fly descends and brings his brood
And Joba Chamberlain is screwed.
They bite his face and ears and neck
His pitches turn to wild drek.
He walks a batter, Wild Pitch!
“God damn these bleeping flies they itch!”
A sac to third, he’s wild again
And no one’s warming in the pen?
But if the flies cost him control
How come Carmona’s on a roll?
When he K’d A-Rod with a curve
Was not old Alex quite unnerved
By flies or was it simply that
October still destroys his bat?
While half a continent away
The Sox and Angels start to play.
And flies affect this outcome too,
But not the ones that gnaw and chew
The necks of pitchers thick and stout
Who cannot get a batter out.
The flies in Boston split the night
And shoot up past the tower light
Off rounded bat on 1-0 counts
These flies on to the Mass Pike bounce.
Drosophila Walkoffengame
Is this sort of fly’s Latin name.
It doesn’t bite it doesn’t sting
This fly is naught but towering.
Though one’s a bug and one’s a ball
Both kinds of flies can end it all.
In Erie nights and Boston sky
We know now why God made the fly.
The weird thing is that it seems fully possible that Ogden Nash would love this shoddy bastardization of his work. The man was an Orioles fan, so you at least know he would like the part about the Yankees choking.
2. Before moving on to a third key that will also deal with the Yankees succumbing to insects, Jose feels obliged to do some serious writing about the Red Sox to prove that he is not Yankee obsessed and does not take more joy from Yankee losses than Red Sox wins.
But rather than focusing on the simplest story line, Manny’s home run, which Jose has already addressed in verse, he’d like to focus on a few other story lines from the evening.
• Terry Eurona--Managing Legend: We all know Tito is a good manager in the regular season, maybe even an excellent manager, but in postseason, it is like he is an entirely different guy, as mere excellence elevates to mathematical perfection. It is as if the man is Toyota Corolla, solid and reliable but unspectacular, that suddenly gains the ability to go 220 mph when you need it to take someone to the hospital.
Not a big car person? Jose isn’t either, so let’s try a different one. Maybe Tito’s more like the Hulk. The Hulk, of course is actually puny Bruce Banner when there’s nothing on the line, but when the stakes are high and the adrenaline flows, he becomes the super strong Hulk. So that’s another cut at it.
You don’t like comics either? Great. Why are you reading the KEYS again? Fine, Jose is inclusive, but just one more analogy. Tito in the regular season is like a chess computer program. It plays well, very well, when set to expert, and will beat average or even good players most of the, but in the playoffs Tito becomes Deep Blue, the IBM chess computer that makes millions of calculations per second, thinks hundreds of moves ahead and can beat the best straight up.
• Hideki Okajima--Regularity: As satisfying as Paps’ performance was last night, it was Okajima’s performance that was the most satisfying. After all of his recent struggles, he appears to be back to the way he was.
To give you a sense of the magnitude of relief Jose feels from Oki’s performance think of it this way. Imagine you have a high fiber diet and it keeps everything running smoothly, like clockwork. You know what Jose’s talking about; he doesn’t need to get graphic. Then one day, things just aren’t happening. The next day they aren’t either. You keep trying to use the facilities; you sit and you wait and nothing happens. Then, after a few days, when you are starting to feel genuinely concerned that there is something seriously wrong with your innards, you decide to try one last time before going to the doctor. Suddenly everything goes as smoothly and cleanly as ever. Imagine how satisfying, what a relief that would be? That’s how satisfying, Okajima’s performance last night was.
• Julio Lugo and DJ Dru--To die unsung would really bring them down: Last night, the two most disappointing Red Sox of the year not named Piniero, Romero, Pena, Hinske, Gagne or Mirabelli, did exactly what they were supposed to. (Note: That list is totally unfair. Dru was way more disappointing than anyone except Gagne.) Dru drove in two in the first, and Lugo got a single in the ninth and advanced to second on a well-executed hit and run to set up Manny’s game winning homer. Everyone forgot about the two of them between Manny’s home run and Dru’s brother playing much better than him in the post season for Arizona, but not Jose.
Both of these guys were heroes last night and when they next come to Fenway how about actually yelling “Drrruuuuuuuu” rather than “booooo” for once and yelling “Luuuuuuggggooooo” instead of yelling “Yuuuuggggooo” like you do when you disrespectfully compare him to a Fiat’s poor Balkan cousin.
OK has Jose filled his quota for Sox talk? He has? Now back to the Joba bashing.
3. A couple of days ago, Jose received a press release from a PR drone for a major non-Popeye’s chicken franchise.
The open letter is below, with a few minor changes to avoid promoting a company that has not offered Jose any free chicken.
Jose finds this agitating. Who sits around and says “Hey let’s bribe some poor guy to further humiliate himself in order to sell chicken.” . One would hope that they would offer similar deals to Kyle Farnsworth and Alex Gonzales, who actually bear responsibility for the loss.
And you know what? Bartman is a classy guy and has donated all of the schwag given to him by various marketing jerks to support the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation out of love and respect for former Cub Ron Santo, a diabetes sufferer and one of the foundation’s major supporters. But he can’t give Fried Chicken to the Foundation can he? Kids with diabetes probably can’t even eat the probably sugar-laden chicken from Not Popeye’s.
And it’s not like it would keep the guy home anyway. If you want to keep Kevin Millar away from a game, sure, offer him chicken, if you want to keep Wade Boggs from a game, take away his chicken, but poor Steve Bartman? Please.
That said, as is often the case with marketing ideas, the problem may be more execution than concept. Except for the obvious criminality of offering bribes in an effort to change the outcome of a game, perhaps a different product offered to a player might be more effective.
Let Jose give you an example of a promotion that could influence the outcome of actual playoff games.
See, that’s a good promotion. It’s timely, not four years out of date, it helps someone who smells like feces, not just some poor sap who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it could actually affect a game.
(Note to SC Johnson: If you would like to use this letter, Jose bill’s at $175 an hour. It took him 37 hours to write it.)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1.
God in His wisdom made the fly
And then forgot to tell us why.
-Ogden Nash "The Fly"
Jose is pretty sure that we know the answer to that one now.
Friday was a big day for those of us who have ever wondered if every thing on our crazy little sphere has a purpose, if each and every act and creature no matter how seemingly random or unimportant is part of some grand design.
If Ogden Nash were still here today, Jose wonders if he wouldn’t add a bit more to his two perfect lines? Jose has noticed lots of hack writers getting rich writing “sequels” to books by other people, as if “Mr. Darcy Presents His Bride” wasn’t just Jane Austen fan fiction.
Ergo, Jose thought he should give it a g
The Fly II
By Jose Melendez, a sequel to The Fly by Ogden Nash
(Note: Name borrowed by the film “The Fly II: Like Father Like Son”
God in His wisdom made the fly
And then forgot to tell us why.
But God’s work’s never out of sight
Not here on this Lake Erie night.
A fly descends and brings his brood
And Joba Chamberlain is screwed.
They bite his face and ears and neck
His pitches turn to wild drek.
He walks a batter, Wild Pitch!
“God damn these bleeping flies they itch!”
A sac to third, he’s wild again
And no one’s warming in the pen?
But if the flies cost him control
How come Carmona’s on a roll?
When he K’d A-Rod with a curve
Was not old Alex quite unnerved
By flies or was it simply that
October still destroys his bat?
While half a continent away
The Sox and Angels start to play.
And flies affect this outcome too,
But not the ones that gnaw and chew
The necks of pitchers thick and stout
Who cannot get a batter out.
The flies in Boston split the night
And shoot up past the tower light
Off rounded bat on 1-0 counts
These flies on to the Mass Pike bounce.
Drosophila Walkoffengame
Is this sort of fly’s Latin name.
It doesn’t bite it doesn’t sting
This fly is naught but towering.
Though one’s a bug and one’s a ball
Both kinds of flies can end it all.
In Erie nights and Boston sky
We know now why God made the fly.
The weird thing is that it seems fully possible that Ogden Nash would love this shoddy bastardization of his work. The man was an Orioles fan, so you at least know he would like the part about the Yankees choking.
2. Before moving on to a third key that will also deal with the Yankees succumbing to insects, Jose feels obliged to do some serious writing about the Red Sox to prove that he is not Yankee obsessed and does not take more joy from Yankee losses than Red Sox wins.
But rather than focusing on the simplest story line, Manny’s home run, which Jose has already addressed in verse, he’d like to focus on a few other story lines from the evening.
• Terry Eurona--Managing Legend: We all know Tito is a good manager in the regular season, maybe even an excellent manager, but in postseason, it is like he is an entirely different guy, as mere excellence elevates to mathematical perfection. It is as if the man is Toyota Corolla, solid and reliable but unspectacular, that suddenly gains the ability to go 220 mph when you need it to take someone to the hospital.
Not a big car person? Jose isn’t either, so let’s try a different one. Maybe Tito’s more like the Hulk. The Hulk, of course is actually puny Bruce Banner when there’s nothing on the line, but when the stakes are high and the adrenaline flows, he becomes the super strong Hulk. So that’s another cut at it.
You don’t like comics either? Great. Why are you reading the KEYS again? Fine, Jose is inclusive, but just one more analogy. Tito in the regular season is like a chess computer program. It plays well, very well, when set to expert, and will beat average or even good players most of the, but in the playoffs Tito becomes Deep Blue, the IBM chess computer that makes millions of calculations per second, thinks hundreds of moves ahead and can beat the best straight up.
• Hideki Okajima--Regularity: As satisfying as Paps’ performance was last night, it was Okajima’s performance that was the most satisfying. After all of his recent struggles, he appears to be back to the way he was.
To give you a sense of the magnitude of relief Jose feels from Oki’s performance think of it this way. Imagine you have a high fiber diet and it keeps everything running smoothly, like clockwork. You know what Jose’s talking about; he doesn’t need to get graphic. Then one day, things just aren’t happening. The next day they aren’t either. You keep trying to use the facilities; you sit and you wait and nothing happens. Then, after a few days, when you are starting to feel genuinely concerned that there is something seriously wrong with your innards, you decide to try one last time before going to the doctor. Suddenly everything goes as smoothly and cleanly as ever. Imagine how satisfying, what a relief that would be? That’s how satisfying, Okajima’s performance last night was.
• Julio Lugo and DJ Dru--To die unsung would really bring them down: Last night, the two most disappointing Red Sox of the year not named Piniero, Romero, Pena, Hinske, Gagne or Mirabelli, did exactly what they were supposed to. (Note: That list is totally unfair. Dru was way more disappointing than anyone except Gagne.) Dru drove in two in the first, and Lugo got a single in the ninth and advanced to second on a well-executed hit and run to set up Manny’s game winning homer. Everyone forgot about the two of them between Manny’s home run and Dru’s brother playing much better than him in the post season for Arizona, but not Jose.
Both of these guys were heroes last night and when they next come to Fenway how about actually yelling “Drrruuuuuuuu” rather than “booooo” for once and yelling “Luuuuuuggggooooo” instead of yelling “Yuuuuggggooo” like you do when you disrespectfully compare him to a Fiat’s poor Balkan cousin.
OK has Jose filled his quota for Sox talk? He has? Now back to the Joba bashing.
3. A couple of days ago, Jose received a press release from a PR drone for a major non-Popeye’s chicken franchise.
The open letter is below, with a few minor changes to avoid promoting a company that has not offered Jose any free chicken.
October 5, 2007
An open letter to Steve Bartman:
As you know, the chatter about black cats, billy goats and curses has returned to the Windy City.
But like you (knock on wood) we don’t believe in hexes. And we don’t play the blame game. In fact, we’d rather lick fingers than point them.
But just to be safe, on behalf of die-hard Cub fans everywhere, we’d like to make you an offer we hope is too good to refuse.
If you promise to watch your beloved team from the comfort of your own couch, [Not Popeye’s] will provide you with the “Ultimate Stay At Home Party Pack.” It’ll include a feast of the Colonel’s World Famous Chicken plus all the side items, and your very own Limited Edition 42" 3-Pixel-Plus High-Definition LCD TV.
Take us up on this offer and maybe the 07 playoffs will be remembered for a feast of fowl at your home, rather than a foul ball at Wrigley Field.
After going 99 years without a World Series title, we think this [Not Popeye’s] offer could potentially be Cubdom’s secret recipe for success. We look forward to hearing from you. Enjoy the playoffs and here’s hoping for some good luck in ‘07!
Sincerely,
[Some Rich Jerk]
President, [Not Popeye’s] Corporation
Jose finds this agitating. Who sits around and says “Hey let’s bribe some poor guy to further humiliate himself in order to sell chicken.” . One would hope that they would offer similar deals to Kyle Farnsworth and Alex Gonzales, who actually bear responsibility for the loss.
And you know what? Bartman is a classy guy and has donated all of the schwag given to him by various marketing jerks to support the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation out of love and respect for former Cub Ron Santo, a diabetes sufferer and one of the foundation’s major supporters. But he can’t give Fried Chicken to the Foundation can he? Kids with diabetes probably can’t even eat the probably sugar-laden chicken from Not Popeye’s.
And it’s not like it would keep the guy home anyway. If you want to keep Kevin Millar away from a game, sure, offer him chicken, if you want to keep Wade Boggs from a game, take away his chicken, but poor Steve Bartman? Please.
That said, as is often the case with marketing ideas, the problem may be more execution than concept. Except for the obvious criminality of offering bribes in an effort to change the outcome of a game, perhaps a different product offered to a player might be more effective.
Let Jose give you an example of a promotion that could influence the outcome of actual playoff games.
An Open Letter to Joba Chamberlain
As you know when summer turns into fall in Northern Ohio, the winds die down and swarms of flies descend upon Jacobs Field.
And like you, we don’t like getting bit by bugs. Thus, we at the SC Johnson Corporation were disappointed and embarrassed to see you slathering yourself in Deep Woods OFF insect repellent and still being swarmed by flies as you attempted to pitch.
Deep Woods OFF is a powerful insect repellent with 25% deet, and thus is highly effective, unlike that deet free nature crap. Our chemical engineers and entomologists met and concluded that the only way that many insects could have been attracted to you after using our product is if you smell like garbage.
Still, we want another chance to prove to you and the world that OFF is an effective product, so we would like to make you an enticing offer.
Should the series go to five games and you return to buggy Cleveland, we would like to dip you in a tank of 100% deet.
If you accept, we guarantee you will not have any problems with bugs, either because it successfully repels them or because rather than throwing wild pitches, you will be pitching wildly and unable to play, as excessive deet exposure is connected to between 14 and 46 cases of seizure according to the Environmental Protection Agency.
After going the entire agonizing century without a World Series, we think that this Deep Woods Offer could be the suck repellent the Yankees are looking for.
We’re hoping to hear from, and good luck at not catching West Nile Virus.
Sincerely,
Some Other Rich Jerk
SC Johnson Corporation
See, that’s a good promotion. It’s timely, not four years out of date, it helps someone who smells like feces, not just some poor sap who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it could actually affect a game.
(Note to SC Johnson: If you would like to use this letter, Jose bill’s at $175 an hour. It took him 37 hours to write it.)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Thursday, September 20
Which Jared Diamond Book are the Red Sox?
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Grow up people!
Seriously, grow up.
“The Sox are collapsing,” you whine. “It’s 1978 all over again,” you complain. “It’s like they’ve surrendered,” you lament.
Wrong, wrong and wrong.
The Red Sox are not collapsing, they are not reliving history, they are not surrendering—they are retrenching. It’s totally different. Let’s put in this way, if the Red Sox were a book by noted geographer Jared Diamond they would not be Collapse. Rather, they would be Guns, Germs, and Steel. Their future will be determined by the strength of the big guns in the middle of the lineup, their ability to overcome injury and disease, and whether their will is strong like steel.
If it were a different year, it would be 1918 not, 1978. And if the Red Sox were a Cheap Trick song, they would be I Want You to Want Me, not Surrender.
For all of the complaining, for as disappointing as it would be to lose the division after holding a lead so large and so long, it does not matter. Not at all.
Ask even the most dimwitted of elite military theorists, and he will tell you that selecting the ground for one’s battle is a critical advantage. Do the Red Sox want to fight now on the mine riddled battlefield of the last week of September to secure a minor tactical advantage for the future—home field? Or do they want to dig their trenches atop the hills of October, conceal their artillery and martial their strength for the decisive battle to come?
Jose concedes that it has been painful to watch for the last week or so, that he has cursed the players, the manager and even the grounds crew. But for all of his rage, all of his angst, he knows that Tito is making the right decisions. He is healing his stars, he is setting his rotation, and he is testing his relievers. Tito may be many things, a manager with a slow hook, a man who cares too much for his players’ feelings, but one thing he is not is Pyrrhus at Asculum securing today’s victory at the cost of the grand campaign. No, perhaps these Red Sox will not win their Asculum, but rest assured, the borough of the Bronx, the Apulia of modernity, shall harshly, and inevitably fall.
2. Still, as the lead grows slimmer and slimmer, it is fair to ask: Who are these Red Sox? Clearly they are not the band of jovial idiots of 2004. But who are they?
The Red Sox are infantry beating a strategic retreat in order to gird for the battle to come.
The Red Sox are masters of jujitsu, little men standing firm against the charging behemoth, waiting until the last moment to step aside and use the behemoth’s strength against him.
The Red Sox are brokers, buying as the market crashes, picking up cheap assets while everyone else is selling.
The Red Sox are boxers taking punch after punch, secure that their chins will last longer than their opponents’ lungs.
The Red Sox are swordsmen, dueling left handed and preparing the switch to the right.
The Red Sox are cryptographers, allowing Coventry to burn such that the information from cracked codes may continue to flow for the greater good.
The Red Sox are roadrunners, allowing the coyote to indulge his insatiable hubris in preparation for his eventual humiliation.
The Red Sox are robots, making cold, rational calculation of maximum benefit, not feeling the emotion that drives men to weakness and folly.
The Red Sox are musicians, striking a stunning fortepiano before again building to a raging fortissimo.
The Red Sox are wrestlers, pretending to hobble such that their inevitable recovery will be all the sweeter.
The Red Sox are grifters, hiding their true identity to pull off the one big scam.
The Red Sox are surgeons, sacrificing the leg to save the body.
The Red Sox are cats, seemingly lazy and nonchalant, yet always scheming.
The Red Sox are all of these things. They are all of these and more. But what will define them, ultimately is what they are not. They are not losers, they are not chokers. You will see. Just wait until October.
3. A lot of you, okay one of you, have been wondering where Jose has been over the course of the last three days as the Sox began to crumble. The answer is he’s been busy.
He’s got stuff to do, important stuff. Fine, fine, it’s stuff to get ready for the playoff race, and just like Tito Eurona, he’s not going to get all anxious and fly off the handle because we might get the wildcard rather than the division. What Jose is focused on right now is healing up, resting up and getting prepared for the postseason.
You all remember 2005 don’t you. It was unclear, even on the last day of the season if the Red Sox were going to make the playoffs, so Jose had to keep throwing everything he could into KEYS right up until the final game.
As a result, when the playoffs started, Jose had to resort to the comedic equivalent of throwing Antipope Matt (In)Clement XV in Game 1— doing jokes about how Carl Everett doesn’t believe in dinosaurs. Jose was gassed, absolutely exhausted, and it showed. Jose doesn’t want this to happen again, so he’s been resting and restocking, trying to fight through the “dead brain” phenomenon that has hit him hard in recent weeks.
What has he done to rejuvenate in his time off? He’s had text messages on scores sent to him right up until the start of a wedding? He’s rambled and ambled from Holyoke to Pittsfield to New Bedford in search of renewal, you know basically all of the stuff Manny is doing to recover from his sore oblique.
And you know what? It’s paying off. It’s paying off big time. When the Red Sox get to the playoffs Jose is completely prepared for either the Angels or the Indians. Jose is prepared to parody either of C+C Music Factory’s hits, in the event that we draw Cleveland starter C+C Music Sabathia. Jose is equally prepared to joke about how Angles hurler Kelvim Escobar is so cold that he is at 0 on the temperature scale created by someone who’s last name is sort of close to Escobar’s first name. See? Degrees Kelvin jokes! Gold! You don’t even want to hear Jose’s Garrett Anderson material!
So don’t you worry. Manny will be healthy and rested. Youks will be “wrist strong” as Stephen Colbert would say, Okajima’s arm will be undead, zombie-like really, and Jose will be ready to go, fresh, rested and ready to kick some *ss.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Grow up people!
Seriously, grow up.
“The Sox are collapsing,” you whine. “It’s 1978 all over again,” you complain. “It’s like they’ve surrendered,” you lament.
Wrong, wrong and wrong.
The Red Sox are not collapsing, they are not reliving history, they are not surrendering—they are retrenching. It’s totally different. Let’s put in this way, if the Red Sox were a book by noted geographer Jared Diamond they would not be Collapse. Rather, they would be Guns, Germs, and Steel. Their future will be determined by the strength of the big guns in the middle of the lineup, their ability to overcome injury and disease, and whether their will is strong like steel.
If it were a different year, it would be 1918 not, 1978. And if the Red Sox were a Cheap Trick song, they would be I Want You to Want Me, not Surrender.
For all of the complaining, for as disappointing as it would be to lose the division after holding a lead so large and so long, it does not matter. Not at all.
Ask even the most dimwitted of elite military theorists, and he will tell you that selecting the ground for one’s battle is a critical advantage. Do the Red Sox want to fight now on the mine riddled battlefield of the last week of September to secure a minor tactical advantage for the future—home field? Or do they want to dig their trenches atop the hills of October, conceal their artillery and martial their strength for the decisive battle to come?
Jose concedes that it has been painful to watch for the last week or so, that he has cursed the players, the manager and even the grounds crew. But for all of his rage, all of his angst, he knows that Tito is making the right decisions. He is healing his stars, he is setting his rotation, and he is testing his relievers. Tito may be many things, a manager with a slow hook, a man who cares too much for his players’ feelings, but one thing he is not is Pyrrhus at Asculum securing today’s victory at the cost of the grand campaign. No, perhaps these Red Sox will not win their Asculum, but rest assured, the borough of the Bronx, the Apulia of modernity, shall harshly, and inevitably fall.
2. Still, as the lead grows slimmer and slimmer, it is fair to ask: Who are these Red Sox? Clearly they are not the band of jovial idiots of 2004. But who are they?
The Red Sox are infantry beating a strategic retreat in order to gird for the battle to come.
The Red Sox are masters of jujitsu, little men standing firm against the charging behemoth, waiting until the last moment to step aside and use the behemoth’s strength against him.
The Red Sox are brokers, buying as the market crashes, picking up cheap assets while everyone else is selling.
The Red Sox are boxers taking punch after punch, secure that their chins will last longer than their opponents’ lungs.
The Red Sox are swordsmen, dueling left handed and preparing the switch to the right.
The Red Sox are cryptographers, allowing Coventry to burn such that the information from cracked codes may continue to flow for the greater good.
The Red Sox are roadrunners, allowing the coyote to indulge his insatiable hubris in preparation for his eventual humiliation.
The Red Sox are robots, making cold, rational calculation of maximum benefit, not feeling the emotion that drives men to weakness and folly.
The Red Sox are musicians, striking a stunning fortepiano before again building to a raging fortissimo.
The Red Sox are wrestlers, pretending to hobble such that their inevitable recovery will be all the sweeter.
The Red Sox are grifters, hiding their true identity to pull off the one big scam.
The Red Sox are surgeons, sacrificing the leg to save the body.
The Red Sox are cats, seemingly lazy and nonchalant, yet always scheming.
The Red Sox are all of these things. They are all of these and more. But what will define them, ultimately is what they are not. They are not losers, they are not chokers. You will see. Just wait until October.
3. A lot of you, okay one of you, have been wondering where Jose has been over the course of the last three days as the Sox began to crumble. The answer is he’s been busy.
He’s got stuff to do, important stuff. Fine, fine, it’s stuff to get ready for the playoff race, and just like Tito Eurona, he’s not going to get all anxious and fly off the handle because we might get the wildcard rather than the division. What Jose is focused on right now is healing up, resting up and getting prepared for the postseason.
You all remember 2005 don’t you. It was unclear, even on the last day of the season if the Red Sox were going to make the playoffs, so Jose had to keep throwing everything he could into KEYS right up until the final game.
As a result, when the playoffs started, Jose had to resort to the comedic equivalent of throwing Antipope Matt (In)Clement XV in Game 1— doing jokes about how Carl Everett doesn’t believe in dinosaurs. Jose was gassed, absolutely exhausted, and it showed. Jose doesn’t want this to happen again, so he’s been resting and restocking, trying to fight through the “dead brain” phenomenon that has hit him hard in recent weeks.
What has he done to rejuvenate in his time off? He’s had text messages on scores sent to him right up until the start of a wedding? He’s rambled and ambled from Holyoke to Pittsfield to New Bedford in search of renewal, you know basically all of the stuff Manny is doing to recover from his sore oblique.
And you know what? It’s paying off. It’s paying off big time. When the Red Sox get to the playoffs Jose is completely prepared for either the Angels or the Indians. Jose is prepared to parody either of C+C Music Factory’s hits, in the event that we draw Cleveland starter C+C Music Sabathia. Jose is equally prepared to joke about how Angles hurler Kelvim Escobar is so cold that he is at 0 on the temperature scale created by someone who’s last name is sort of close to Escobar’s first name. See? Degrees Kelvin jokes! Gold! You don’t even want to hear Jose’s Garrett Anderson material!
So don’t you worry. Manny will be healthy and rested. Youks will be “wrist strong” as Stephen Colbert would say, Okajima’s arm will be undead, zombie-like really, and Jose will be ready to go, fresh, rested and ready to kick some *ss.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Wednesday, July 25
Use Only As Directed
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Hello, this is blogger Jose Melendez, and Jose would like to tell you about a revolutionary new treatment that changed his life.
Like a lot of you Red Sox fans, Jose suffers from anxiety. He never thought it was a big deal, just a base level of nervousness that sort of follows him through life. He’s the sort of guy who worries that if he doesn’t bring an umbrella it’s going to rain and if he does that he’ll get stuck schlepping it around all day. He gets nervous about whether his train will arrive on time, and then while he’s on it, he gets nervous that it will be knocked off the rails by Godzilla or possible Mothra.
Sound familiar? It sure does. Do you sometimes feel like Calvin Schiraldi in the postseason? Do you rock like Leo Mazzone or an Orthodox Jew in prayer, during those stressful late innings?
Well, now there’s a treatment. About four months ago, Jose discovered a treatment for anxiety that has changed his life. And the best thing about it is you don’t need it everyday. When the stress adds up, it’s there for you with immediate, scientifically-proven relief for your toughest anxiety symptoms.
Whether you’re worried about a lefty or a righty, Hideki Okajima takes care of the anxiety fast.
(Note: What, you thought Jose was going to say valium?)
Ask your Doctor if Hideki Okajima is right for you.
(Warning: Hideki Okajima may not be right for you. Hideki Okajima may cause drowsiness, lethargy or burning during urination. If Hideki Okajima causes an erection lasting longer than four hours, please consult your doctor. Women who are pregnant or may be come pregnant should not handle Hideki Okajima. Hideki Okajima may become addictive with prolonged use. Use Hideki Okajima only as directed.)
2. In an episode of The Simpsons entitled “The Wife Aquatic” which originally aired on January 7, 2007, Moe Syzlak, sensing that Homer, who is working as a fisherman, is in danger says “I just got this strange feeling Homer's in trouble.”
Lenny Leonard, Homer’s fellow barfly quickly adds “That's weird I just got this strange feeling some guy I don't know named Fausto is in trouble.”
Is that not incredibly weird? How on Earth did Lenny know that the Red Sox are going to absolutely Indians starter Fausto Carmona is in serious trouble tonight against the Red Sox? Creepy.
1. Hello, this is blogger Jose Melendez, and Jose would like to tell you about a revolutionary new treatment that changed his life.
Like a lot of you Red Sox fans, Jose suffers from anxiety. He never thought it was a big deal, just a base level of nervousness that sort of follows him through life. He’s the sort of guy who worries that if he doesn’t bring an umbrella it’s going to rain and if he does that he’ll get stuck schlepping it around all day. He gets nervous about whether his train will arrive on time, and then while he’s on it, he gets nervous that it will be knocked off the rails by Godzilla or possible Mothra.
Sound familiar? It sure does. Do you sometimes feel like Calvin Schiraldi in the postseason? Do you rock like Leo Mazzone or an Orthodox Jew in prayer, during those stressful late innings?
Well, now there’s a treatment. About four months ago, Jose discovered a treatment for anxiety that has changed his life. And the best thing about it is you don’t need it everyday. When the stress adds up, it’s there for you with immediate, scientifically-proven relief for your toughest anxiety symptoms.
Whether you’re worried about a lefty or a righty, Hideki Okajima takes care of the anxiety fast.
(Note: What, you thought Jose was going to say valium?)
Ask your Doctor if Hideki Okajima is right for you.
(Warning: Hideki Okajima may not be right for you. Hideki Okajima may cause drowsiness, lethargy or burning during urination. If Hideki Okajima causes an erection lasting longer than four hours, please consult your doctor. Women who are pregnant or may be come pregnant should not handle Hideki Okajima. Hideki Okajima may become addictive with prolonged use. Use Hideki Okajima only as directed.)
2. In an episode of The Simpsons entitled “The Wife Aquatic” which originally aired on January 7, 2007, Moe Syzlak, sensing that Homer, who is working as a fisherman, is in danger says “I just got this strange feeling Homer's in trouble.”
Lenny Leonard, Homer’s fellow barfly quickly adds “That's weird I just got this strange feeling some guy I don't know named Fausto is in trouble.”
Is that not incredibly weird? How on Earth did Lenny know that the Red Sox are going to absolutely Indians starter Fausto Carmona is in serious trouble tonight against the Red Sox? Creepy.
Tonight's Cleveland Starter (pictured
right) is in trouble.
3. Dear God Bud Selig is a coward. After indicating that he would not attend games in which Barry Bonds could tie or break Hank Aaron’s home run record, the Commissioner announced yesterday that he would attend these games to the extent that they did not interfere with his obligations with the Hall-of-Fame induction. Selig has further indicated that he will not participate in any on field ceremonies and that the game will not be halted to honor the achievement. Count Jose as skeptical.
So Jose is going to lay down a gauntlet, draw a line in the sand, establish legal residency in the proverbial tax-free New Hampshire right now. He is not going to attend any of the games where Bonds might break Aaron’s record. Jose vows he will not travel to a single game where it could happen. He will not go on the field, he will not go in the locker room, he will not share a hug with Bonds. If Bonds invites Jose over for cigars and roast pheasant, he will decline. If Bonds offers him a back rub, he shall, in the word of Thor, “say thee nay.”
Unlike the King of the Combovers, Jose will stands firm and resolute in his opposition to honoring the Duke of the cream and the clear
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Wednesday, July 18
Are You Fitter Than...
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. It was at Jose’s gymnasium that he met his old enemy.
The 4x4 white oak tag card, stamped with the outline of a green apple, a granny smith, Jose supposes, lay there on the check-in desk mocking him.
Jose had known this day would come. Ever since he saw the signs around the gym asking “Are you fitter than a fifth grader?” he knew that conflict was inevitable. After 20 long years, across 34 countries on five continents, the President’s Physical Fitness Test had finally tracked Jose down like the furies of myth.
But its victim was a different Jose Melendez. The pudgy ten year-old with whom it had last done battle was gone. In his stead stood a man, stood a broad shouldered, well-pectoraled, moderate exercise machine. Jose took the measure of his old rival. 45 sit ups? Ha, Jose can do that after six or seven beers. 22 push ups? Even easier. +4.0 V Sit Reach? Jose has no idea what that is, but he’s sure he can vanquish it like a soft tossing lefty going through the Sox line up.
That’s when the troubles start. On mile run, 7:57 seconds. Hmm… that might be a problem. When Jose ran cross country in high school, he was the king of the ten minute miles—12 if he was feeling lethargic. Jose had only joined cross country to get in shape for wrestling, which he then quit upon discovering that wrestling mostly involved not eating, and had little or nothing to do with hitting people with chairs. Thus, he took a laid back approach to running. Also, he’s really slow. Could Jose pound out a 7:57 mile now? Maybe, but will he try? Hell no. His knees would rebel faster than Gary Sheffield at a clubhouse meeting.
From there, we move from the improbable to the impossible. There is no way Jose is doing six chin ups. None. These days he could probably do two or three, but six? He couldn’t do six if you gave him a week. The chin ups always seemed unfair. Even the best athlete in Jose’s fifth grade class, a fellow who shared a name with one of the Monkees couldn’t do it. It was a cruel and vindictive goal set by Ronald Reagan in order to shame the nation’s youth into a more aggressive stance towards communism. Jose’s couldn’t do it then, and he can’t do it now.
Thus, Jose must except that he is not fitter than a fifth grader, at least not fitter that this Nietzschen über –fifth greater that the President’s Council on Physical Fitness has pressed upon us like a crown of thorns or batting helmet of nettles.
But Jose will not be defeated. Rather he will stand strong, and in the finest American tradition, he will not yield to the unreasonable demands of lofty goals. No! He will insist upon the soft bigotry of low expectations. He will demand it. Prepare to limbo friends, because Jose is lowering the bar
Instead of offering this foolish “are you fitter than a fifth greater promotion” the problems of which begin with it referencing a Jeff Foxworthy vehicle and spiral from there, Jose offers a different question “Are you fitter than Curt Euro?”
Now there is a reasonable standard, fit enough to be a professional athlete, not fit enough to look good in a tight t-shirt. Even better, since Curt is a big supporter of the President’s perhaps he can get through to the increasingly isolated fitness guru in chief.
In order to meet this more reasonable standard, one would still have to pass five tests.
- See your feet: 1 inch or more.
- Strike out Wily Mo Pena in a simulated game: 2 or more times.
- Write about baseball on line: 10,000 words in one hour.
- Stay awake playing Everquest: 36 consecutive hours.
- Fit into a suit for weird wine commercial: 1 time
If you can do all of those, congratulations, you are as fit as Curt Euro. The President salutes you, and invites you to enlist. If not, perhaps you can receive a lesser commendation for being as fit as Rich Garces.
2. A musical tribute to tonight’s Royals starter to the tune of “Oh Mandy” by Barry Manilow.
Come on, sing along! Cue up the youtube video and join in.
I remember in LA
You pitched great and came to play
You picked up 15 wins
Were on the All-Star team
2002 goes by
And slides into
Year 2003,
What kind of season will it be?
Your ERA got high
And you began to cry
Because you realized
How crappy you’re playing, Odalis
Well you give up home runs, we’re not taking
Pitches for strikes today, Odalis
Well you know that our bats, they are waking
We need you today, Odalis
You’re on the worst team in the game
Missing all your long lost fame
Caught up in a world of nickel and diming
Kaufman’s waterfall like tears
And nothing is rhyming, Odalis
Well you give up home runs, we’re not taking
Pitches for strikes today, Odalis
Well you know that our bats, they are waking
We need you today, Odalis
Well you give up home runs, we’re not taking
Pitches for strikes today, Odalis
Well you know that our bats, they are waking
We need you today, Odalis
3. Jose has a new role model. It’s Yi Jianlian, the Chinese basketball player drafted by the Milwaukee Bucks with the sixth pick in this year’s NBA draft.
What Jose loves about Yi isn’t his size, his soft hands, or his much celebrated ability to post up a folding chair. (Note: Bill Simmons has gotten a lot of mileage out of that joke, but he shouldn’t diminish the accomplishment. Beyond Al Jefferson, do the Celtics have any big men who could post up a chair? Jose is pretty sure that the chair would stuff Kendrick Perkins.) No, what Jose loves is that Yi is refusing to play in Milwaukee because there aren’t enough Chinese people living there.
Actually, Jose is amazed that there is anyplace without a lot of Chinese. Jose once had a friend who came from the Czech Republic near the border with Poland. Jose asked him if there were many Poles who lived in his town and his friend answered “No, but there are a lot of Chinese.” Anyway, someone should let the Czech leagues know that they may be a good fit for Yi.
Buy Yi’s defiance has gotten Jose thinking. Is it really appropriate for Jose to be devoting himself to the Boston Red Sox? Sure they have two Japanese and one Jew, but do they have even a single Japanese-German-Jew? And if so, does that person have a Puerto Rican alter ego? And the city writ large is just as bad. In his 30 years in the region, Jose hasn’t seen a single Japanese-German-Jewish American social club, ethnic festival or awareness day. Have you ever seen gefilte fish sushi with sauerkraut? Nope. This city does not have adequate representation for Jose’s ethnic group, and it is starting to piss him off.
So here’s an ultimatum. Find Mr. Matsu and Okajima some nice Jewish girls or get Youks a Japanese girlfriend and let’s get them banging or Jose is out of here faster than Wily Mo on three straight sliders.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Friday, July 6
Custerer's Last Stand
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. According to the Boston Metro, a well-know ticker custerer was stabbed and robbed at Kenmore Square station by two men just before yesterday’s game. The custer was counting his piles of filthy gangster money outside the turnstiles when he was attacked.
While the ticket reseller’s white T-shirt was torn by the knife’s blade and stained with blood, his track pants are reported to have escaped harm.
The victim was taken to Boston Medical Center with non-life Lugothreatening injuries, where he shares a room in the trauma ward with Tampax Bay pitcher J.P. Howell.
2. Damn it.
Jose could have sworn that he saw a headline this morning in The Boston Metro, (slogan: now Boston’s #2 free subway paper) that read “Man sues bar over missed question.” Jose, or course, thought that this was a story about a fellow who had lost a pub trivia contest on a controversial question and had sued the haughty quizmaster for what was rightfully his. But it turned out that Jose just wasn’t paying attention and that the headline actually read “man sues bar association over missed question” which does not allow one to jump to the same funny conclusion. Rather, it was about a man who sued the Massachusetts Bar Association after he failed the bar by one question when he refused to answer a question that would have, in his opinion, affirmed support for gay marriage. Bo-ring.
Had they written the same story without using “association” in the headline, Jose was going to write about how this was the second most misleading headline of the year, right after the Globe’s “Exciting signs: Red Sox sign Drew and Lugo” on December 6.
Damn it.
3. It was nice of Hideki Okajima to pretend to be surprised about winning the All-Star election last night. Okajima, who was voted in by the fans as the 30th man on the A.L. squad, graciously bowed to all corners of the field to show his happiness at and thanks for the honor. Skilled Japanologists, however, reported that he was not actually surprised. Why would he be? He comes from one of the world’s only truly democratic countries where elections are basically a foregone conclusion.
The way elections work in Japan since 1955 is fairly simple. Everyone casts a ballot and then the Liberal Democratic Party (note: famously called neither liberal, nor democratic nor a party), in one form or another, wins. With the exception of the years between 1993 and 1996, this is basically how it has worked for sixty years. Pretty much for the LDP to lose power they had to be involved in major scandals and fail to adopt political reform legislation. Ergo, with Okajima quite certain that he had had little in terms of dirty dealing with Lockheed, why wouldn’t he expect to win the election?
Nevertheless, congratulations to Hideki Okajima, the best Hideki in Major League Baseball.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. According to the Boston Metro, a well-know ticker custerer was stabbed and robbed at Kenmore Square station by two men just before yesterday’s game. The custer was counting his piles of filthy gangster money outside the turnstiles when he was attacked.
While the ticket reseller’s white T-shirt was torn by the knife’s blade and stained with blood, his track pants are reported to have escaped harm.
The victim was taken to Boston Medical Center with non-life Lugothreatening injuries, where he shares a room in the trauma ward with Tampax Bay pitcher J.P. Howell.
2. Damn it.
Jose could have sworn that he saw a headline this morning in The Boston Metro, (slogan: now Boston’s #2 free subway paper) that read “Man sues bar over missed question.” Jose, or course, thought that this was a story about a fellow who had lost a pub trivia contest on a controversial question and had sued the haughty quizmaster for what was rightfully his. But it turned out that Jose just wasn’t paying attention and that the headline actually read “man sues bar association over missed question” which does not allow one to jump to the same funny conclusion. Rather, it was about a man who sued the Massachusetts Bar Association after he failed the bar by one question when he refused to answer a question that would have, in his opinion, affirmed support for gay marriage. Bo-ring.
Had they written the same story without using “association” in the headline, Jose was going to write about how this was the second most misleading headline of the year, right after the Globe’s “Exciting signs: Red Sox sign Drew and Lugo” on December 6.
Damn it.
3. It was nice of Hideki Okajima to pretend to be surprised about winning the All-Star election last night. Okajima, who was voted in by the fans as the 30th man on the A.L. squad, graciously bowed to all corners of the field to show his happiness at and thanks for the honor. Skilled Japanologists, however, reported that he was not actually surprised. Why would he be? He comes from one of the world’s only truly democratic countries where elections are basically a foregone conclusion.
The way elections work in Japan since 1955 is fairly simple. Everyone casts a ballot and then the Liberal Democratic Party (note: famously called neither liberal, nor democratic nor a party), in one form or another, wins. With the exception of the years between 1993 and 1996, this is basically how it has worked for sixty years. Pretty much for the LDP to lose power they had to be involved in major scandals and fail to adopt political reform legislation. Ergo, with Okajima quite certain that he had had little in terms of dirty dealing with Lockheed, why wouldn’t he expect to win the election?
Nevertheless, congratulations to Hideki Okajima, the best Hideki in Major League Baseball.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Thursday, July 5
The Goddess of Divine Retribution
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Nemesis.
In Greek mythology she was the goddess of divine retribution, the avenger of hubris, or, more abstractly, the notion that people will get what they deserve. In the Marvel Super Heroes role playing game, it was the power to counter any opponent's power (note to nerds: think of the sentinel Nimrod). And in Star Trek, it was a really lame movie, though maybe not quite as lame as the one with F. Murray Abraham,
And today, Nemesis is Joey Chestnut, and she is a civil engineering student from San Jose California.
Until yesterday, the legendary Takeru Kobayashi, the Japanese Eating Machine, had been unrivaled, undefeated by man, having lost only to a Kodiak bear on Fox’s Man vs. Beast. But no more. Kobayashi went down to ignominious defeat at the hand of Joey “Jaws” Chestnut, in the Nathan’s Famous Hot Dog Eating Championship at Coney Island before a live crowd of 30,000 and millions more on television, including your Boston Red Sox, who were poised to take the field mere minutes after a “Reversal of Fortune” ended Kobayashi’s day.
But is Kobayashi less for having met his nemesis, for finally having succumbed?
In a way, of course he is. He is no longer undefeated and unrivaled. But in another way, a real way, the defeat has made him all the greater, because it enhances his narrative. Every Holmes needs his Moriarty; every Maggie Simpson needs the baby with the one eyebrow. The Red Sox have the Yankees. Roger Clemens had Dave Stewart. Mariano Rivera had Bill Mueller. Mickey Mantle had the bottle. Ali had Frazier. Thurman Munson had gravity. Chamberlain had Russell. Bird had Magic. Billy Martin had a bridge abutment.
And were any of them lesser for having the rival, for having met their match? Well, Clemens, who never got by Dave Stewart (note: or Jeff Suppan) but not the others. Nemesis is part of the heroic narrative (note: okay, technically it’s part of the tragic archetype, but give Jose a break, his nemesis is factual accuracy), and it is this very struggle of hero vs. nemesis, thesis vs. antithesis, that transforms the merely great into synthesis of legend. (Note: Yes, Jose is using the hot dog eating contest as dialectic.)
Rocky Marciano never met his match, but was he truly the greater for it? Who knows what heights he could have reached had he been pushed? This is America. And on this day after the celebration of our independence, we do well to recall that competition is at the core of our national identity. It is the competition of ideas, of men, of teams, of businesses that drives excellence, that creates brilliance.
So, congratulations to Joey Chestnut, and congratulations to Takeru Kobayashi. You need each other, you deserve each other, and you will transform each other from men into myth.
2. Halfway through the season, the Red Sox hold an 11.5 game lead over the second place Blue Jays and a 12 game lead over the third place Yankees, and they have 16 games remaining against the lowly Tampax Bay DRays. That means that for better or for worse (note: for better), the Red Sox’s ability to take the division will be determined largely by their ability to beat up on one of the worst teams in baseball.
While this is good news for the Sox’s chances to take the division, it is bad news for fans of drama and excitement. It is more anticlimactic than a night with A-Rod.
It does not follow an appropriate dramatic arc for the heroes to vanquish the lowest of the low in the last act. Did Return of the Jedi end with Luke Skywalker having a light saber duel with a Jawa? Nope. (Note: Though having the Empire go down to Ewoks isn’t that far off.) Having the Red Sox beat up on the DRays to secure an AL East title is like having a Goomba as the big boss at the end of Super Mario Brothers. It is like having the Hulk Hogan vs. Barry Horowitz as the WrestleMania main event. It is like having Spiderman 4 feature Rocket Racer or the Gibbon as the villain.
Anticlimax fever—catch it!
1. Nemesis.
In Greek mythology she was the goddess of divine retribution, the avenger of hubris, or, more abstractly, the notion that people will get what they deserve. In the Marvel Super Heroes role playing game, it was the power to counter any opponent's power (note to nerds: think of the sentinel Nimrod). And in Star Trek, it was a really lame movie, though maybe not quite as lame as the one with F. Murray Abraham,
And today, Nemesis is Joey Chestnut, and she is a civil engineering student from San Jose California.
Until yesterday, the legendary Takeru Kobayashi, the Japanese Eating Machine, had been unrivaled, undefeated by man, having lost only to a Kodiak bear on Fox’s Man vs. Beast. But no more. Kobayashi went down to ignominious defeat at the hand of Joey “Jaws” Chestnut, in the Nathan’s Famous Hot Dog Eating Championship at Coney Island before a live crowd of 30,000 and millions more on television, including your Boston Red Sox, who were poised to take the field mere minutes after a “Reversal of Fortune” ended Kobayashi’s day.
But is Kobayashi less for having met his nemesis, for finally having succumbed?
In a way, of course he is. He is no longer undefeated and unrivaled. But in another way, a real way, the defeat has made him all the greater, because it enhances his narrative. Every Holmes needs his Moriarty; every Maggie Simpson needs the baby with the one eyebrow. The Red Sox have the Yankees. Roger Clemens had Dave Stewart. Mariano Rivera had Bill Mueller. Mickey Mantle had the bottle. Ali had Frazier. Thurman Munson had gravity. Chamberlain had Russell. Bird had Magic. Billy Martin had a bridge abutment.
And were any of them lesser for having the rival, for having met their match? Well, Clemens, who never got by Dave Stewart (note: or Jeff Suppan) but not the others. Nemesis is part of the heroic narrative (note: okay, technically it’s part of the tragic archetype, but give Jose a break, his nemesis is factual accuracy), and it is this very struggle of hero vs. nemesis, thesis vs. antithesis, that transforms the merely great into synthesis of legend. (Note: Yes, Jose is using the hot dog eating contest as dialectic.)
Rocky Marciano never met his match, but was he truly the greater for it? Who knows what heights he could have reached had he been pushed? This is America. And on this day after the celebration of our independence, we do well to recall that competition is at the core of our national identity. It is the competition of ideas, of men, of teams, of businesses that drives excellence, that creates brilliance.
So, congratulations to Joey Chestnut, and congratulations to Takeru Kobayashi. You need each other, you deserve each other, and you will transform each other from men into myth.
2. Halfway through the season, the Red Sox hold an 11.5 game lead over the second place Blue Jays and a 12 game lead over the third place Yankees, and they have 16 games remaining against the lowly Tampax Bay DRays. That means that for better or for worse (note: for better), the Red Sox’s ability to take the division will be determined largely by their ability to beat up on one of the worst teams in baseball.
While this is good news for the Sox’s chances to take the division, it is bad news for fans of drama and excitement. It is more anticlimactic than a night with A-Rod.
It does not follow an appropriate dramatic arc for the heroes to vanquish the lowest of the low in the last act. Did Return of the Jedi end with Luke Skywalker having a light saber duel with a Jawa? Nope. (Note: Though having the Empire go down to Ewoks isn’t that far off.) Having the Red Sox beat up on the DRays to secure an AL East title is like having a Goomba as the big boss at the end of Super Mario Brothers. It is like having the Hulk Hogan vs. Barry Horowitz as the WrestleMania main event. It is like having Spiderman 4 feature Rocket Racer or the Gibbon as the villain.
Anticlimax fever—catch it!
Tampa Manager Joe Maddon
prepares for 16 with the Sox
3. With fewer than eight hours to go, Hideki Okajima retains his lead in the election to be added on to the A.L. All-Star team, over Roy Halliday, Jeremy Bonderman, Kelvim Escobar and Pat Neshik.
Reports out of Detroit confirm that Jeremy Bonderman, in an effort to overtake Okajima, has contracted former Florida Secretary of State and Congresswoman Katherine Harris to work on the vote. Harris’ duties will reportedly include, disenfranchising Japanese voters, on the ground that they’re “furners” and hiring Diebold to ensure that any vote cast for Okajima is registered as a vote for Pat Buchanan .
In a related story, by participating in the election process, Harris replaces Julian Tavarez as the most batsh*t insane person associated with Major League Baseball.
3. With fewer than eight hours to go, Hideki Okajima retains his lead in the election to be added on to the A.L. All-Star team, over Roy Halliday, Jeremy Bonderman, Kelvim Escobar and Pat Neshik.
Reports out of Detroit confirm that Jeremy Bonderman, in an effort to overtake Okajima, has contracted former Florida Secretary of State and Congresswoman Katherine Harris to work on the vote. Harris’ duties will reportedly include, disenfranchising Japanese voters, on the ground that they’re “furners” and hiring Diebold to ensure that any vote cast for Okajima is registered as a vote for Pat Buchanan .
In a related story, by participating in the election process, Harris replaces Julian Tavarez as the most batsh*t insane person associated with Major League Baseball.
Battle of the Titans: Who's Crazier?
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Friday, May 11
Jose Gets All Melodramatic
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Jose loves Tim Wakefield and Jose loves the knuckleball. Or more accurately, Jose loves Tim Wakefield because of the knuckleball. This is not a secret.
Time and time again, Jose has described how he became enamored of the knuckleball while watching one of the Niekro brothers on The Baseball Bunch. (Note: Isn’t it time for a new Baseball Bunch? Could Barry Bonds play the Johnny Bench role, teaching kids the fundamentals, like hitting, throwing and proper use of performance enhancing drugs? “Cream on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, clear on Mondays and Wednesdays and Fridays kids. But on Sunday you rest. That’s God’s time.) Jose has described his lifelong effort to throw knuckleball and how it has resulted in him throwing exactly two out of, perhaps 10,000 pitches thrown. Jose has even claimed that he likes the knuckleball because it is like magic. It is the baseball equivalent of having a 5’3’’ NBA player who is in the league solely on his ability to hit half court set shots. At least that’s why Jose thought he loved the knuckleball. But he has had a change of heart. He has, if you will, flip flopped or perhaps sandaled.
Jose loves the knuckleball, because it is a metaphor for life. maybe not for everyone’s life, but for Jose’s life. The thing about the knuckleball that is so extraordinary is that unlike other pitches, it cannot be controlled, only directed, managed. Tim Wakefield cannot force the knuckleball up or down in the zone. He cannot choose for it to be a strike or a ball. What he can do is affect how sharply it breaks by speeding it up or slowing it down. And time after time, he can repeat, with the greatest possible precision, the exact motions that have brought him, and other knuckleballers before him, optimal results. Sometimes the outcomes are excellent, and sometimes, like now or in his magical 1995 stretch, they are astonishingly good for lengthy stretches. At others, such as when he was left off the 1999 ALCS roster after he seemed capable of blowing a 98 run lead in Game 4 of the ALDS, nothing he does seems to matter.
This is how life goes for Jose. He keeps the fingernails of his being trimmed and filed to exactly 3mm, he goes out of the figurative pitching motion and does his best to make the little tweaks required to keep the knuckleballs of daily life breaking hard over the plate. Sometimes the results are wonderful. Sometimes the Jason Giambis of despair, the Derek Jeters of adversity swing and miss and look as foolish as jesters. Sometimes, even thought they swing and miss, the ball evades the catcher and sneaks to the back stop, as seemingly good fortune melts into bad. But other times, there is Aaron Boone. Other times, Jose does the best he can, rotates the horsehide of his being forward by exactly one-fourth of a rotation, and still, there is no break, no movement. Whether it is a gust of wind from the frozen north, a butterfly batting its wings in Malaysia or a fan sneezing in section 23, the knuckleball fails to knuckle, the good intentions yield bad results and the ball makes an abrupt about face into the bleachers and into the emotional void of failure.
Jose cannot control his life any more than Tim Wakefield can control his knuckleball. He can only put faith in the soundness of his actions, the purity of his intentions and know that when his wins and losses are counted up at the end of the season, his record will be a little above five hundred. No, he may not be extraordinary, but he will be effective, he will be valued and maybe, just maybe he will hit that hot streak, that mystical spot at just the right time, and he can do something truly legendary.
2. With Hideki Okajima’s latest scoreless inning last night, that man who was once known as “the other Japanese guy” is now well on his way to being known simply as “OK.”
In light of OK’s emergence as the best setup man in baseball, Jose would like to revive a long dead, failed product. Now, Jose is always looking for opportunities to revive failed products ranging from PB Max candy bars (note: if only Pedro Borbon would return) to new Coke (note: is Steve Howe dead?), but this one is special.
In the summer of 1994, a series of chain letters mysteriously began to spread through Boston and perhaps the country like Herpes Simplex II through Daytona Beach. These letters spoke of a mysterious beverage that had brought great good fortune to those who consumed it and grave misfortune to those who had not. This beverage was called OK Soda. But despite the incredibly illegal marketing idea, despite the cool 800 number where on could hear stories of the great powers of the alterna-beverage as well as bird calls, the product failed. Perhaps it was because cynical Generation Xers realized that OK was secretly a product of the Coca-Cola Corporation, or perhaps it was because it tasted like a mix of Mountain Dew, Orange Fanta (note: the American kind, not the good European kind) and day old Folger’s crystals. Either way, no one drank it.
But now that there is, at last, a credible spokesman, it is time for OK Soda to make a comeback. According to wikipedia, it can be duplicated by mixing ¼ orange soft drink,¾ semi-flat Coca-Cola a splash of Dr. Pepper or Sprite. Jose calls on all Fenway stand concessionaires to start making this concoction as tribute to OK, our left-handed life saver. Let us all join together when he enters the game, no matter the hardship, no matter the burden and raise our glasses and recite the OK Soda slogan: With Hideki Okajima in the game “Things are going to be OK.”
Official Soft Drink of the Boston Red Sox?
3. There was a brawl last night at the Boston Pops and it got Jose thinking. Jose thinks a lot about the differences between high culture, like the symphony or professional wrestling, and low culture like baseball or cockfighting, and he thinks they could learn some things from each other.
- You never hear orchestras talking about how they need a new publicly financed symphony hall to remain economically viable or how the seats are too small and uncomfortable for modern people. Why is that? Don’t they know that if an institution is important to a city they can get a free ride?
- Jose knows the brawl wasn’t among musicians but what if it had been? If a clarinetist got into a fight with a cellist, would the rest of the woodwinds have to get involved to defend their compatriot? Would it be a rallying moment leading to better woodwind play for the rest of the orchestral season?
- They should sing Sweet Caroline before the last song at the Symphony.
- Why no wave at the Symphony? Not during the good parts with the brass, but during the boring string solos?
- Do professional musicians ever refuse to talk to jerk music critics?
- Jose is always quick to condemn performance enhancing drugs in sports, but so many musicians throughout history have used drugs to enhance their performance. From Miles Davis and pot, to Yo-Yo Ma’s crystal meth habit. Should Jose be condemning them too?
- Given that the Boston Pops is basically the Boston Symphony Orchestra minus the best player in each instrumental section and plus someone worse in each section, why are they so celebrated? Isn’t it a little like taking the staring nine and top two pitchers away from the Red Sox, and bringing up 11 minor leaguers to fill in. Jose wouldn’t care how charming and cute the manager was, he still wouldn’t want to watch it.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Tuesday, May 1
Like Triangle
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Lots of observers have commented on the curious fondness of Julienned Tavarez for Mr. Matsu. It’s funny and kind of endearing to see the effusive (note: read insane) Tavarez fawn over the Japanese pitcher, who while he seems to be touchy feely by Japanese standards, is still unsure what to make of his Dominican non-so-secret-admirer.
Still, today’s Globe Red Sox Notebook wherein Tavarez says “I told [Matsuzaka] I think you’re one of the greatest pitchers I’ve ever seen,” is embarrassing in its mushiness. It reads like a sixth grade mash note. But it gets worse. Jose recently uncovered this transcript of a locker room conversation between the unlikely friends.
JULIAN: Hi Daisuke.
DAISUKE: Oh hi Julian.
JULIAN: How’s it going?
DAISUKE: Umm… okay. Still getting used to life here. How about for you?
JULIAN. (Slyly) Good… Hey, I really liked watching you pitch the other day.
DAISUKE: Oh thanks.
JULIAN: It was just so exciting, the way you exercised such, such command over all of your pitches.
DAISUKE: (looking uncomfortable) Uh… yeah, I had my good stuff.
JULIAN: You sure did, and you knew exactly when to use it. You knew right when to use the hard stuff, and the perfect time to go with something a little more… subtle.
DAISUKE: I… I guess I try to mix it up.
JULIAN: I guess it’s just your grip. You’ve just got these amazing hands. Strong, supple.
DAISUKE: I’m feeling really uncomfortable.
JULIAN: Do you mind if I touch your hands? I want to feel where the magic comes from?
DAISUKE: Uhhh…(looking for a way out) I not speak Engrish.
JULIAN: Los manos, los manos lucido.
DAISUKE: Umm… I also not speak Spanish?
JULIAN: Just let me touch them. Please?
DAISUKE: Julian you’re cool and all, but I don’t want you coming on to me. I don’t like you that way.
JULIAN (Punches him in the face) What?!? What the hell is wrong with you all I say is I want to feel your rugged manly, magical hands and you make it all dirty?
DAISUKE: (On the floor clenching his jaw) Ughh…Crap… Sorry, must be a cultural misinterpretation. Would it help if I taught you the cutter to make it up to you?
JULIAN: Teaching me the cutter is a start, that and some sex. Lots and lots of sex.
DAISUKE: But I thought—
JULIAN: Cultural differences!
See, incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. Jose even felt uncomfortable transcribing it. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with a pock marked Dominican lunatic prone to violent outbursts falling in love with a Japanese colleague, and making awkward, clumsy passes at him. Not at all. It’s just that Tavarez seems to be aiming a little too high. Let’s be honest, Daisuke is out of his league. If he’s got an Asian thing, he should focus on Okajima. Though he might be getting out of Tavarez’s league too. Maybe we could get Wendell Kim to hang out with him.
2. Speaking of Okajima, when he was originally brought to the Red Sox, there was rampant speculation that he was signed as much to provide friendship and companionship to Mr. Matsu as to pitch. Of course, little did the Red Sox know that Julienned Tavarez would be providing Mr. Matsu with all the friendship he could stand. Thus, with his primary purpose gone, Okajima has been forced to focus on his lesser role of pitching brilliantly.
But don’t be fooled. No, don’t be tricked into thinking that Okajima’s original role was to be a lights out set up man. He and Mr. Matsu are, as some SoSHers have suggested, BFFs, best friends forever, and not even Tavarez can tear them apart. You want proof? You say it’s kind of BS to assume that just because two guys come from the same country and work at the same place they’re BFFs? Well, the proof is in the necklace. You know that necklace that Okajima wears to every game. With Jose’s years of training in the arts (note: and crafts) he can tell, with 95 percent confidence, that that is an authentic gimp friendship necklace made at a summer camp sometime between 1983 and 1989. And Jose has every reason to believe that necklace came from Mr. Matsu. Of course, there is one other possibility. Jose has been hearing rumors that Tavarez has been making friendship necklaces for everyone, just so he can tease J.C. Romero, saying “I have 23 best friends on this team, and you have none. Loser.”
3. But you don’t want to hear any more about Julienned Tavarez’ creepy Japanese fetish. No, you don’t come here for that, you come hear for insight on tonight’s match up with the Oakland Athletics and the return of Lenny DiNardo. Jose hopes that the fans treat him right. Jose has heard that the Red Sox are preparing a video tribute of Lenny’s greatest moments to play pregame, you know, like they did with Pedro last year. Jose thinks it will include that one pitch where his fastball hit 86 mph, and maybe that time when he didn’t get shelled. Hopefully they’ll also do a retrospective on his Rule V induced trip to the disabled list in 2004.
But let’s not get lost in the drama. This Oakland As team is far more than just Lenny DiNardo. It is the retirement home for formerly great hitting, badly broken down catchers with both Mike Piazza and Jason Kendall on the roster. And Jose is holding out that they may sign Todd Hundley before game time.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Lots of observers have commented on the curious fondness of Julienned Tavarez for Mr. Matsu. It’s funny and kind of endearing to see the effusive (note: read insane) Tavarez fawn over the Japanese pitcher, who while he seems to be touchy feely by Japanese standards, is still unsure what to make of his Dominican non-so-secret-admirer.
Still, today’s Globe Red Sox Notebook wherein Tavarez says “I told [Matsuzaka] I think you’re one of the greatest pitchers I’ve ever seen,” is embarrassing in its mushiness. It reads like a sixth grade mash note. But it gets worse. Jose recently uncovered this transcript of a locker room conversation between the unlikely friends.
JULIAN: Hi Daisuke.
DAISUKE: Oh hi Julian.
JULIAN: How’s it going?
DAISUKE: Umm… okay. Still getting used to life here. How about for you?
JULIAN. (Slyly) Good… Hey, I really liked watching you pitch the other day.
DAISUKE: Oh thanks.
JULIAN: It was just so exciting, the way you exercised such, such command over all of your pitches.
DAISUKE: (looking uncomfortable) Uh… yeah, I had my good stuff.
JULIAN: You sure did, and you knew exactly when to use it. You knew right when to use the hard stuff, and the perfect time to go with something a little more… subtle.
DAISUKE: I… I guess I try to mix it up.
JULIAN: I guess it’s just your grip. You’ve just got these amazing hands. Strong, supple.
DAISUKE: I’m feeling really uncomfortable.
JULIAN: Do you mind if I touch your hands? I want to feel where the magic comes from?
DAISUKE: Uhhh…(looking for a way out) I not speak Engrish.
JULIAN: Los manos, los manos lucido.
DAISUKE: Umm… I also not speak Spanish?
JULIAN: Just let me touch them. Please?
DAISUKE: Julian you’re cool and all, but I don’t want you coming on to me. I don’t like you that way.
JULIAN (Punches him in the face) What?!? What the hell is wrong with you all I say is I want to feel your rugged manly, magical hands and you make it all dirty?
DAISUKE: (On the floor clenching his jaw) Ughh…Crap… Sorry, must be a cultural misinterpretation. Would it help if I taught you the cutter to make it up to you?
JULIAN: Teaching me the cutter is a start, that and some sex. Lots and lots of sex.
DAISUKE: But I thought—
JULIAN: Cultural differences!
See, incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. Jose even felt uncomfortable transcribing it. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with a pock marked Dominican lunatic prone to violent outbursts falling in love with a Japanese colleague, and making awkward, clumsy passes at him. Not at all. It’s just that Tavarez seems to be aiming a little too high. Let’s be honest, Daisuke is out of his league. If he’s got an Asian thing, he should focus on Okajima. Though he might be getting out of Tavarez’s league too. Maybe we could get Wendell Kim to hang out with him.
2. Speaking of Okajima, when he was originally brought to the Red Sox, there was rampant speculation that he was signed as much to provide friendship and companionship to Mr. Matsu as to pitch. Of course, little did the Red Sox know that Julienned Tavarez would be providing Mr. Matsu with all the friendship he could stand. Thus, with his primary purpose gone, Okajima has been forced to focus on his lesser role of pitching brilliantly.
But don’t be fooled. No, don’t be tricked into thinking that Okajima’s original role was to be a lights out set up man. He and Mr. Matsu are, as some SoSHers have suggested, BFFs, best friends forever, and not even Tavarez can tear them apart. You want proof? You say it’s kind of BS to assume that just because two guys come from the same country and work at the same place they’re BFFs? Well, the proof is in the necklace. You know that necklace that Okajima wears to every game. With Jose’s years of training in the arts (note: and crafts) he can tell, with 95 percent confidence, that that is an authentic gimp friendship necklace made at a summer camp sometime between 1983 and 1989. And Jose has every reason to believe that necklace came from Mr. Matsu. Of course, there is one other possibility. Jose has been hearing rumors that Tavarez has been making friendship necklaces for everyone, just so he can tease J.C. Romero, saying “I have 23 best friends on this team, and you have none. Loser.”
3. But you don’t want to hear any more about Julienned Tavarez’ creepy Japanese fetish. No, you don’t come here for that, you come hear for insight on tonight’s match up with the Oakland Athletics and the return of Lenny DiNardo. Jose hopes that the fans treat him right. Jose has heard that the Red Sox are preparing a video tribute of Lenny’s greatest moments to play pregame, you know, like they did with Pedro last year. Jose thinks it will include that one pitch where his fastball hit 86 mph, and maybe that time when he didn’t get shelled. Hopefully they’ll also do a retrospective on his Rule V induced trip to the disabled list in 2004.
But let’s not get lost in the drama. This Oakland As team is far more than just Lenny DiNardo. It is the retirement home for formerly great hitting, badly broken down catchers with both Mike Piazza and Jason Kendall on the roster. And Jose is holding out that they may sign Todd Hundley before game time.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
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