(Sigh) One of the most important days of the year and Blogger.com is down for six hours. But it matters not.
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Well, this is new.
What an odd and extraordinary situation Jose finds himself in. Like all of you, every day Jose looks forward to watching the Boston Red Sox play baseball, and every night Jose goes to bed looking forward to watching the next game. Watching baseball has given Jose so much pleasure, at least when the Sox are good. And when they are bad? Well, then at least the Sox eat hours. Maybe they aren’t great hours, but the Red Sox at least consume them, thereby eliminating the need to put further strain on an already overworked network of family and friends.
Jose wants that to end. Yes, Jose is rooting for the Red Sox season to end today. He didn’t want it to end in 2003 or 2002 or 2001 and backwards and backwards, but he wants it to end now. Mach schnell!!! Post haste!!!
After tonight, Jose does not want to watch the Red Sox again this year. After tonight, he does not want to be astounded by Curt Euro’s grit and toughness; he does not want to marvel at Manny’s sweet swing; he does not want to see David Ortiz spit on his hands or Orlando Cabrerra toss the ball effortlessly to first. For the first time in 18 years, Jose hopes, Jose prays that the Red Sox will not play baseball tomorrow.
Jose also desperately wants this to be the last KEYS TO THE GAME of 2004. KEYS TO THE HOT STOVE, KEYS TO SLOVENIA, KEYS TO A FRAGRANT YET SUBTLE PINOT NOIR, Jose would gladly write them all, but KEYS to another game? The Red Sox have all of their KEYS, now all they need to do is unlock the door (Note: Or possibly bomb through a wall Legend of Zelda style.)
Prior to today’s KEYS Jose has written 90,425 words in the form of KEYS TO THE GAME. That is enough. That should be all. Let us end it here and now. Yes, for the first time Jose looks forward to not watching the Red Sox tomorrow
2. Jose should probably write something that actually has to do with the game, a little analysis, a little match up work. Starting pitching has been the story of this series, so let’s focus on tonight’s starters. The Red Sox have Megatron pitching, ready, poised and full of energon cubes. Of course, this raises the question of what Transformer Cardinals starter Jason Marquis might be? Perhaps Bumblebee the loveable little VW Bug, who has a lot of pluck but is just to small to get the job done. No?
Okay, stop. Hold on. Bring out the writing coach, bring the manager to the mound. It’s time for Jose to be honest here – Jose is gassed. He dropped 1,657 words yesterday, his longest outing ever, and put enormous strain on his shaky left elbow in order to try to pull the Sox through. He doesn’t have much left, and it’s showing. That first KEY…that might work in June, but this is the World Series. And the start of KEY 2? Bumblebee? What the hell is that?
But you know what? Jose can’t surrender the keyboard. He just can’t do it. He’s going to keep bringing it until the manager comes and drags him out. So here goes, let’s see if he can get these last two KEYS up around 97. Then Jose will point skyward, call it a day and rub his ‘fro against a teammate’s. It is on.
Jose had hoped to come up with some clever, nickname for Jason Marquis that would play off of either Marquis de Sade or Marquis de Lafayette. Lafayette, Jose immediately realized, was hopeless. Nothing rhymes with it except possibly “Laugh Riot” and that, ironically, didn’t seem funny. Moreover mentioning a riot seemed extremely distasteful.
And Sade? Well lots of things rhyme with Sade “God,” “Rod,” “Mod,” “Decapod” but none of them seemed to reflect the man who will take the man who will actually take the mound for the Cardinals tonight. Can one connect Jason Marquis to what the American Heritage Dictionary defines as “a cephalopod mollusk, such as a squid or cuttlefish, having ten armlike tentacles?” Actually, yes – he does lack a backbone. But it still seemed like too much of a stretch.
Jose had sort of hoped to find something that would rhyme with Sade and mean “Is so anxiety riddled that he needed to be used as a pinch runner in game 1 to work out the butterflies, and he even screwed that up by falling down on the base paths. So now he is destined to walk five and give up six runs in 2 2/3 innings in the biggest game of his life.” But surprisingly, in a language as versatile as English, there is no word captures that, much less one that rhymes with “Sade.” The only thing that even comes close to capturing it (Note: Not rhyming with it) is “Kevin Brown.”
So Jose will have to settle for French. And as it turns out the French have a word that seems just about perfect. Jose doesn’t speak a word of French, but this term, to Anglophone ears, seems ideal for Jason Marquis – “Inquiétude.” It’s what one gets when “anxiety” is translated by Babelfish, but it seems to Jose that it is so much more. It conveys a sense of unsettledness, a sense of fear, a sense that every pitch might be the mistake that is remembered forever.So tonight’s pitching match up? Megatron versus Le Marquis de Inquiétude. Jose doesn’t know about you, but he’ll take the robot hell bent on destruction.
3. UNO!!! UNO!!! UNO DAMN IT!!! Jose has played a lot of different games in his life time, and sometimes he gets confused about which rules belong to which game, but he is almost sure that baseball is the one where you have to shout UNO when you’re about to go out. Right? If you don’t say “Uno” you have to win two extra games, so UNO!!! UNO!!! UNO!!!
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Wednesday, October 27
Tuesday, October 26
From SoSH: Re: 10-26-04 The Beginning of A New Era(pt.3)
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Once there was a city named St. Louis that was among the greatest in the world. It was the host of the 1904 Olympics and the 1904 World’s Fair back when the World’s Fair meant something. (Note: Though apparently in the 94 events only 42 included athletes who were not Americans. Unfortunately for the Cardinals, every World Series game will be contested.)
Once there was a city named St. Louis that stood as the “Gateway to the West,” the gateway to a better life, the gateway to hope and freedom and land and independence.
Once there was a city named St. Louis who’s spirit was so indomitable it was heralded on the side of the most famous aircraft of the day. Yes, Lucky Lindy named his transatlantic steed the “Spirit of St. Louis.”
Once there was a city named St. Louis that was home to a man named Musial who forever redefined what it means to be “The Man.”
Once there was a city named St. Louis where Bob Gibson tormented hitters with his angry gaze and angrier fastball.
Once there was a city named St. Louis, where Marshall Faulk played and Kurt Warner prayed and Super Bowls title seemed like they would stretch to the horizon.
Once there was a city, now it’s done. Brother, now it’s Boston’s time.
Today there is a city named St. Louis where even getting a flight on Olympic Airways is every bit as impossible as holding an Olympic games.
Today there is a city named St. Louis that has an Arch symbolizing its past glory and golden arches representing its present decay.
Today there is a city named St. Louis that is so unremarkable that Akron is stealing its stuff and getting away with it. That’s right. You know that Goodyear Blimp, “The Spirit of Akron?” That’s Akron calling you out St. Louis and what are you going to do about it? Nothing. You’re Akron’s b*tch St. Louis. What do you think Boston would do if Rochester started talking about Rochester Baked Beans or Rochester Scrod? We’d kick their asses, that’s what we’d do.
Today there is a city named St. Louis that is home to a man named Matheny who is a gaping whole in a lineup.
Today there is a city named St. Louis where Matt Morris entices hitters with a frightened gaze and even more frightened fastball.
Today there is a city named St. Louis whose football team yielded 31 points to a punchless Miami offense, and handed the Dolphins their first win.
The city of St. Louis was once so grand that truly it deserved its sainthood. But now? Now the bloom is off the rose, the best days are behind them, and many other cliches. In 1904 the Olympics was originally given to Chicago but was moved to St. Louis by a 14-2 vote. Perhaps some enterprising Midwesterners would consider voting the Cubs St. Louis’ home games this year? Perhaps the Missouri city no longer deserves its sainthood. Yes, from now on Jose will simply call the once great city Louis, or maybe even Lou.
2. Yesterday there was a plea for common sense in the Boston Globe by a certain Amanda E. Ottaway of Boston. It is a letter so important that Jose believes it warrants repeating here.
Jose is a huge believer in freedom of expression. And Ms. Ottaway has every right to say what she did. But let’s break this letter down a bit shall we? Let’s address her specific grievances.
Not everyone loves the Red Sox
AO: “I moved to Boston from Cincinnati in May to start a new job and a new life. I thought Boston was filled with culture and history.
JM: Well, it is, but our fair town can’t possibly be expected to compete with the great meccas of the Midwest like Cincinnati and St. Louis. It’s like comparing Cognac and Fresca, we can’t possibly compete. Also, do you expect that people should sit around the cafes all day talking about the merits of defending Bunker Hill versus Breed’s Hill and the first use of ether? History is wonderful to the extent that it gets state workers paid holidays, but beyond that? (Note: Actually, Jose loves history, but come on.)
AO: “The only thing I have heard about since I got here is the Red Sox. Don't people have anything else to talk about besides that?”
JM: Sure we do. In January we’ll talk mostly about the Patriots. But seriously, even on a Red Sox fan site like SoSH there are outlets for discussing politics, popular culture and the world of computers. And we Bostonians can discuss almost any subject, as long as it is connected to baseball in some way. For instance, in Cincinnati, one might chat about John Kerry’s bid for the White House. In Boston, one can chat about it too, but only by comparing it to Euro Bellhorn’s quest for the Red Sox single season strikeout record. Alternatively, one could debate how the race would be different if Dale Sveum were Kerry’s campaign manager. (Note: How would it be different? Well, Kerry would send a lot more time “out” on the campaign trail, and a lot less time at home. Sveum would keep saying “John go home to Louisburg Square, you need rest, and Kerry would keep ending up out on the trail. Get it? Dale Sveum is a below average third base coach. It’s funny now isn’t it? Also, can we change the name of Louisburg Square to Bostonburg Square for the next week? Just wondering.)
AO: “Not only that, but I am expected to be a fan of the team just because I live here. Forget the fact that I lived somewhere else for more than 30 years, and I'm still fond of that team.”
JM: Ahh…there’s the rub. She’s a Reds fan and is still bitter that her beloved Reds lost the 1975 World Series to the Boston Red…Wait… She has no f’n reason at all.
AO: “I am just so surprised that people around here don't have anything else to do in their lives except talk about and watch baseball. It is really making me hate Boston”
JM: Umm…some of us have jobs, too. And families. Maybe a dog. Jose plays softball, though that kind of proves your point.
AO: “Add to that the fact that I live on Boylston Street in the Back Bay.”
JM: Let’s see at least 30 years old, lives in Back Bay, might this be a disgruntled yuppie? Either that or she is a homeless woman who has seen revelry cut into her panhandling.
AO: “This week has proved to me how completely disrespectful Boston residents are of each other. I've witnessed people screaming, yelling, honking their horns at midnight during the middle of the week. I will be moving once my lease is up.”
JM: The nerve of people celebrating something wondrous that has never happened before. And in the city at that. Peasants.
AO: “Don't people here get the fact that not everyone loves the Red Sox?”
JM: We get it. Some people (Note: you) are jerks. Okay.
AO: “I was never even given the chance to like them. As far as I'm concerned, Go Cardinals!”
JM: We were never even given the chance to like you. As far as we’re concerned, Go Home!
Now having done a point by point rebuttal, Jose would like to address some the broader issues of Ms. Ottaway’s comments by looking at some of her previous writings.
Did you know that in Summer 1989, Ms. Ottaway was living in an apartment just off of Tianenmen Square in Beijing, China and wrote a letter to the Beijing Times-Picayune saying “This week has proved to me how completely disrespectful Beijing students are. I’ve witnessed them screaming, yelling, protesting at midnight during the middle of the week. I wish someone would crush them with armored columns.”
Did you know that mere months later in Fall 1989, Ms. Ottaway was living in an apartment near the Brandenburg Gate in East Berlin and wrote a letter to the Die Berliner Zeit-Picayune saying “Don’t people here get the fact that not everyone loves Democracy? I was never even given the chance to like it. As far as I’m concerned, Go Communists.”
Finally did you know that Ms. Ottaway was living in a Times Square apartment on December 31, 1999 and wrote a letter to the New York Times-Picayune saying “I am expected to be a fan of the New Millennium just because I live in it? Forget the fact that I lived in a different millennium for more than 30 years, and I’m still fond of it.”
Here’s another thing not to like about Bostonians. We put words in your mouth and libel you, but then admit that it is all lies (Note: All of those “letters” are lies), so it’s not technically libel.
3. So the Cardinals’ plan now is to win Game 3 with Jeff Suppan starting against Pedro Martinez? Good God, how are they even in the World Series making moves like that? Jose knows Suppan has been good all year and great in the playoffs, that he was good all of last year, except when he was with the Sox and that he beat Roger Clemens in Game 7. (Note: Who hasn’t?) But seriously? If this idea works, Jose’s sources report that Cardinals Manager Tony LaRussa is planning to start Brian Rose in Game 4 and Tim Vanegmond in Game 5 before returning to Boston and throwing Nate Minchey in Game 6 and Vaughn Eshelman in Game 7. Actually, Jose thinks this is a good plan. They can’t possibly be any worse than fictional characters Woody Williams and Matt Morris.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Once there was a city named St. Louis that was among the greatest in the world. It was the host of the 1904 Olympics and the 1904 World’s Fair back when the World’s Fair meant something. (Note: Though apparently in the 94 events only 42 included athletes who were not Americans. Unfortunately for the Cardinals, every World Series game will be contested.)
Once there was a city named St. Louis that stood as the “Gateway to the West,” the gateway to a better life, the gateway to hope and freedom and land and independence.
Once there was a city named St. Louis who’s spirit was so indomitable it was heralded on the side of the most famous aircraft of the day. Yes, Lucky Lindy named his transatlantic steed the “Spirit of St. Louis.”
Once there was a city named St. Louis that was home to a man named Musial who forever redefined what it means to be “The Man.”
Once there was a city named St. Louis where Bob Gibson tormented hitters with his angry gaze and angrier fastball.
Once there was a city named St. Louis, where Marshall Faulk played and Kurt Warner prayed and Super Bowls title seemed like they would stretch to the horizon.
Once there was a city, now it’s done. Brother, now it’s Boston’s time.
Today there is a city named St. Louis where even getting a flight on Olympic Airways is every bit as impossible as holding an Olympic games.
Today there is a city named St. Louis that has an Arch symbolizing its past glory and golden arches representing its present decay.
Today there is a city named St. Louis that is so unremarkable that Akron is stealing its stuff and getting away with it. That’s right. You know that Goodyear Blimp, “The Spirit of Akron?” That’s Akron calling you out St. Louis and what are you going to do about it? Nothing. You’re Akron’s b*tch St. Louis. What do you think Boston would do if Rochester started talking about Rochester Baked Beans or Rochester Scrod? We’d kick their asses, that’s what we’d do.
Today there is a city named St. Louis that is home to a man named Matheny who is a gaping whole in a lineup.
Today there is a city named St. Louis where Matt Morris entices hitters with a frightened gaze and even more frightened fastball.
Today there is a city named St. Louis whose football team yielded 31 points to a punchless Miami offense, and handed the Dolphins their first win.
The city of St. Louis was once so grand that truly it deserved its sainthood. But now? Now the bloom is off the rose, the best days are behind them, and many other cliches. In 1904 the Olympics was originally given to Chicago but was moved to St. Louis by a 14-2 vote. Perhaps some enterprising Midwesterners would consider voting the Cubs St. Louis’ home games this year? Perhaps the Missouri city no longer deserves its sainthood. Yes, from now on Jose will simply call the once great city Louis, or maybe even Lou.
2. Yesterday there was a plea for common sense in the Boston Globe by a certain Amanda E. Ottaway of Boston. It is a letter so important that Jose believes it warrants repeating here.
Jose is a huge believer in freedom of expression. And Ms. Ottaway has every right to say what she did. But let’s break this letter down a bit shall we? Let’s address her specific grievances.
Not everyone loves the Red Sox
AO: “I moved to Boston from Cincinnati in May to start a new job and a new life. I thought Boston was filled with culture and history.
JM: Well, it is, but our fair town can’t possibly be expected to compete with the great meccas of the Midwest like Cincinnati and St. Louis. It’s like comparing Cognac and Fresca, we can’t possibly compete. Also, do you expect that people should sit around the cafes all day talking about the merits of defending Bunker Hill versus Breed’s Hill and the first use of ether? History is wonderful to the extent that it gets state workers paid holidays, but beyond that? (Note: Actually, Jose loves history, but come on.)
AO: “The only thing I have heard about since I got here is the Red Sox. Don't people have anything else to talk about besides that?”
JM: Sure we do. In January we’ll talk mostly about the Patriots. But seriously, even on a Red Sox fan site like SoSH there are outlets for discussing politics, popular culture and the world of computers. And we Bostonians can discuss almost any subject, as long as it is connected to baseball in some way. For instance, in Cincinnati, one might chat about John Kerry’s bid for the White House. In Boston, one can chat about it too, but only by comparing it to Euro Bellhorn’s quest for the Red Sox single season strikeout record. Alternatively, one could debate how the race would be different if Dale Sveum were Kerry’s campaign manager. (Note: How would it be different? Well, Kerry would send a lot more time “out” on the campaign trail, and a lot less time at home. Sveum would keep saying “John go home to Louisburg Square, you need rest, and Kerry would keep ending up out on the trail. Get it? Dale Sveum is a below average third base coach. It’s funny now isn’t it? Also, can we change the name of Louisburg Square to Bostonburg Square for the next week? Just wondering.)
AO: “Not only that, but I am expected to be a fan of the team just because I live here. Forget the fact that I lived somewhere else for more than 30 years, and I'm still fond of that team.”
JM: Ahh…there’s the rub. She’s a Reds fan and is still bitter that her beloved Reds lost the 1975 World Series to the Boston Red…Wait… She has no f’n reason at all.
AO: “I am just so surprised that people around here don't have anything else to do in their lives except talk about and watch baseball. It is really making me hate Boston”
JM: Umm…some of us have jobs, too. And families. Maybe a dog. Jose plays softball, though that kind of proves your point.
AO: “Add to that the fact that I live on Boylston Street in the Back Bay.”
JM: Let’s see at least 30 years old, lives in Back Bay, might this be a disgruntled yuppie? Either that or she is a homeless woman who has seen revelry cut into her panhandling.
AO: “This week has proved to me how completely disrespectful Boston residents are of each other. I've witnessed people screaming, yelling, honking their horns at midnight during the middle of the week. I will be moving once my lease is up.”
JM: The nerve of people celebrating something wondrous that has never happened before. And in the city at that. Peasants.
AO: “Don't people here get the fact that not everyone loves the Red Sox?”
JM: We get it. Some people (Note: you) are jerks. Okay.
AO: “I was never even given the chance to like them. As far as I'm concerned, Go Cardinals!”
JM: We were never even given the chance to like you. As far as we’re concerned, Go Home!
Now having done a point by point rebuttal, Jose would like to address some the broader issues of Ms. Ottaway’s comments by looking at some of her previous writings.
Did you know that in Summer 1989, Ms. Ottaway was living in an apartment just off of Tianenmen Square in Beijing, China and wrote a letter to the Beijing Times-Picayune saying “This week has proved to me how completely disrespectful Beijing students are. I’ve witnessed them screaming, yelling, protesting at midnight during the middle of the week. I wish someone would crush them with armored columns.”
Did you know that mere months later in Fall 1989, Ms. Ottaway was living in an apartment near the Brandenburg Gate in East Berlin and wrote a letter to the Die Berliner Zeit-Picayune saying “Don’t people here get the fact that not everyone loves Democracy? I was never even given the chance to like it. As far as I’m concerned, Go Communists.”
Finally did you know that Ms. Ottaway was living in a Times Square apartment on December 31, 1999 and wrote a letter to the New York Times-Picayune saying “I am expected to be a fan of the New Millennium just because I live in it? Forget the fact that I lived in a different millennium for more than 30 years, and I’m still fond of it.”
Here’s another thing not to like about Bostonians. We put words in your mouth and libel you, but then admit that it is all lies (Note: All of those “letters” are lies), so it’s not technically libel.
3. So the Cardinals’ plan now is to win Game 3 with Jeff Suppan starting against Pedro Martinez? Good God, how are they even in the World Series making moves like that? Jose knows Suppan has been good all year and great in the playoffs, that he was good all of last year, except when he was with the Sox and that he beat Roger Clemens in Game 7. (Note: Who hasn’t?) But seriously? If this idea works, Jose’s sources report that Cardinals Manager Tony LaRussa is planning to start Brian Rose in Game 4 and Tim Vanegmond in Game 5 before returning to Boston and throwing Nate Minchey in Game 6 and Vaughn Eshelman in Game 7. Actually, Jose thinks this is a good plan. They can’t possibly be any worse than fictional characters Woody Williams and Matt Morris.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Sunday, October 24
From SoSH: Re: 10-24-04 The Beginning Of A New Era(pt.2)
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Well, the Red Sox have seized a 1-0 lead in the World Series despite playing what some pundits have referred to as a “sloppy game.” Jose isn’t really sure what said pundits mean by “sloppy.” Are they referring to the Red Sox four horrific errors? Are they suggesting that the slovenly Red Sox themselves were even more unkempt than usual? (Note: You know they are called the Red Sox because they are such poor housekeepers that one player once put a red shirt in the laundry with a bunch of white socks dieing them all. Such carelessness.) Or are they suggesting that the Red Sox dugout was overflowing with tobacco juice? Regardless, the Sox overcame this sloppiness to win and position themselves quite nicely with Curt Euro, Pedro and Megatron coming up in the pitching order.
The question on everyone’s mind, of course, as we enter tonight’s game is how will Curt Euro’s amazing bionic ankle hold up? Will it remain strong and steady like the performance of David Ortiz, or crumble like the dramatic Tony Womack? (Note: Jose’s brother’s girlfriend is an Arizona native and Diamondbacks fan, to the extent that such a thing exists. After Womack collapsed last night she commented, “When he was with Arizona, he was always sort of a drama queen.” So let’s connect the dots shall we? Womack muffs a hard grounder that he should have scooped, falls to the ground in anguish, leaves the game, and a ball that was clearly and error is ruled a hit. Everyone got that? Yup, he’s a big a drama queen as Audrey Hepburn. Also, he appears to be playing the Famous Leon in those Budweiser commercials. This was the consensus at the bar Jose watched the game at.)
Jose’s brother has pointed out that Curt’s ankle appears to be held together with Six Million Dollar Man technology (Note: Though Jose’s brother originally called it “Six Dollar Man” technology. Jose cut him a teeny tiny bit of slack though, as the show was on before his brother’s birth.) Does this mean we can give Curt a 50 percent pay cut? (Note: Only kidding Curt. Seriously. You are the 12 million dollar man. Go get ‘em.)
2. Did anyone else notice that last night, in the third inning, after one of the run scoring singles, FOX did a brief cutaway shot to the Red Sox bench and captured something as surprising as it was horrifying. Yes, they captured none other than Derek Lowe awkwardly doing the “Walker Wiggle.” No one Jose was watching with picked this up, but Jose saw it with his own eyes, and as he was the only person there who was not drinking, he will trust his observation over theirs. While Jose was always a big fan of the Walker Wiggle and has missed it since Antoine Walker was traded for Raef F’n LaFrentz, the DLowe/Megatron version was not exactly what Jose was looking for. So the question remains, what in the name of all that is good made Megatron think that it would be a good idea to do the Walker Wiggle. Jose’s been thinking about it and his best guess is that he wasn’t actually doing the Walker Wiggle, rather that he was trying to duplicate the dance move of his pro wrestling namesake D’Lo Brown, who would do a wigglish head bob as he went down the aisle. Let Jose be clear, he is not opposed to Megatron developing some celebratory dance moves; he just thinks they need to fit his personality more appropriately. The most obvious, and probably best choice, would be The Robot.
As long as we are discussing this, Jose thinks we should assign a few other celebratory dance moves to Sox players before we end up watching Umlaut Mueller doing the Macarena in the dugout.
Keith Foulke - Well based on is last name alone it should be some form of square dancing, perhaps the Virginia Reel.
Pedro Martinez - Pedro should start doing the Icky Shuffle after he throws a strike out to end the inning, complete with spiking the baseball. Jose can’t give you a good reason, except that it would be funny.
Manny Ramirez – The seizure dance, that Patriots Wide Receiver Deion Branch’s used in the end zone last year. Manny actually already seemed to be working on this one as he attempted to make plays in the eighth last night, so it shouldn’t be much of a stretch.
Kevin Youkilis and Gabe Kapler – That Jewish wedding dance where they put people on chairs and lift them into the air. It probably has a name, but Jose can’t remember it. Can you imagine them doing that to Terry Eurona? That would be sweet.
Balki Arroyo – Myposian Dance of Joy (Note: Yes, Jose concedes he had been spelling “Mypos” incorrectly all year as “Mepos.”)
Curt Euro – No dancing. Just keep the ankle stable.
Dave Roberts – The Limbo. Don’t ask why, Jose just has a feeling that Roberts is hands down the finest limboer on the team and perhaps in the Majors.
Tim Wakefield –As the last player remaining from the 1995 A.L. East champion team, the Time Warp seems appropriate.
Johnny Damon – Does gradual ascension towards heaven bathed in cone of pure white light count as a dance?
Mike Timlin and Kevin Millar – Texas Two Steps of course.
David Ortiz – The Monster Mash
Jose knows this leaves a few player without preassigned dance moves, but Jose is out of ideas, so we will have to trust them to take care of themselves. Just please don’t do the Walker Wiggle unless you know what you’re doing.
3. Can we start referring to tonight’s Cardinals starter Matt Morris by his initials M&M? Slogan: Melts on the mound not in the stands.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Well, the Red Sox have seized a 1-0 lead in the World Series despite playing what some pundits have referred to as a “sloppy game.” Jose isn’t really sure what said pundits mean by “sloppy.” Are they referring to the Red Sox four horrific errors? Are they suggesting that the slovenly Red Sox themselves were even more unkempt than usual? (Note: You know they are called the Red Sox because they are such poor housekeepers that one player once put a red shirt in the laundry with a bunch of white socks dieing them all. Such carelessness.) Or are they suggesting that the Red Sox dugout was overflowing with tobacco juice? Regardless, the Sox overcame this sloppiness to win and position themselves quite nicely with Curt Euro, Pedro and Megatron coming up in the pitching order.
The question on everyone’s mind, of course, as we enter tonight’s game is how will Curt Euro’s amazing bionic ankle hold up? Will it remain strong and steady like the performance of David Ortiz, or crumble like the dramatic Tony Womack? (Note: Jose’s brother’s girlfriend is an Arizona native and Diamondbacks fan, to the extent that such a thing exists. After Womack collapsed last night she commented, “When he was with Arizona, he was always sort of a drama queen.” So let’s connect the dots shall we? Womack muffs a hard grounder that he should have scooped, falls to the ground in anguish, leaves the game, and a ball that was clearly and error is ruled a hit. Everyone got that? Yup, he’s a big a drama queen as Audrey Hepburn. Also, he appears to be playing the Famous Leon in those Budweiser commercials. This was the consensus at the bar Jose watched the game at.)
Jose’s brother has pointed out that Curt’s ankle appears to be held together with Six Million Dollar Man technology (Note: Though Jose’s brother originally called it “Six Dollar Man” technology. Jose cut him a teeny tiny bit of slack though, as the show was on before his brother’s birth.) Does this mean we can give Curt a 50 percent pay cut? (Note: Only kidding Curt. Seriously. You are the 12 million dollar man. Go get ‘em.)
2. Did anyone else notice that last night, in the third inning, after one of the run scoring singles, FOX did a brief cutaway shot to the Red Sox bench and captured something as surprising as it was horrifying. Yes, they captured none other than Derek Lowe awkwardly doing the “Walker Wiggle.” No one Jose was watching with picked this up, but Jose saw it with his own eyes, and as he was the only person there who was not drinking, he will trust his observation over theirs. While Jose was always a big fan of the Walker Wiggle and has missed it since Antoine Walker was traded for Raef F’n LaFrentz, the DLowe/Megatron version was not exactly what Jose was looking for. So the question remains, what in the name of all that is good made Megatron think that it would be a good idea to do the Walker Wiggle. Jose’s been thinking about it and his best guess is that he wasn’t actually doing the Walker Wiggle, rather that he was trying to duplicate the dance move of his pro wrestling namesake D’Lo Brown, who would do a wigglish head bob as he went down the aisle. Let Jose be clear, he is not opposed to Megatron developing some celebratory dance moves; he just thinks they need to fit his personality more appropriately. The most obvious, and probably best choice, would be The Robot.
As long as we are discussing this, Jose thinks we should assign a few other celebratory dance moves to Sox players before we end up watching Umlaut Mueller doing the Macarena in the dugout.
Keith Foulke - Well based on is last name alone it should be some form of square dancing, perhaps the Virginia Reel.
Pedro Martinez - Pedro should start doing the Icky Shuffle after he throws a strike out to end the inning, complete with spiking the baseball. Jose can’t give you a good reason, except that it would be funny.
Manny Ramirez – The seizure dance, that Patriots Wide Receiver Deion Branch’s used in the end zone last year. Manny actually already seemed to be working on this one as he attempted to make plays in the eighth last night, so it shouldn’t be much of a stretch.
Kevin Youkilis and Gabe Kapler – That Jewish wedding dance where they put people on chairs and lift them into the air. It probably has a name, but Jose can’t remember it. Can you imagine them doing that to Terry Eurona? That would be sweet.
Balki Arroyo – Myposian Dance of Joy (Note: Yes, Jose concedes he had been spelling “Mypos” incorrectly all year as “Mepos.”)
Curt Euro – No dancing. Just keep the ankle stable.
Dave Roberts – The Limbo. Don’t ask why, Jose just has a feeling that Roberts is hands down the finest limboer on the team and perhaps in the Majors.
Tim Wakefield –As the last player remaining from the 1995 A.L. East champion team, the Time Warp seems appropriate.
Johnny Damon – Does gradual ascension towards heaven bathed in cone of pure white light count as a dance?
Mike Timlin and Kevin Millar – Texas Two Steps of course.
David Ortiz – The Monster Mash
Jose knows this leaves a few player without preassigned dance moves, but Jose is out of ideas, so we will have to trust them to take care of themselves. Just please don’t do the Walker Wiggle unless you know what you’re doing.
3. Can we start referring to tonight’s Cardinals starter Matt Morris by his initials M&M? Slogan: Melts on the mound not in the stands.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Saturday, October 23
From SoSH: Re: 10-23-04 The Beginning Of A New Era
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
First things first. Before we dive into this special World Series edition of KEYS. Jose has some business to attend to. Longtime SoSHer RomeroRomine, who is currently working as a civilian at a military compound in Iraq, asked his brother, who is, by a remarkable coincidence, Jose’s friend Jamie, to request that Jose send along his huzzahs from the Middle East. So from RomeroRomine, "Huzzah to the Red Sox, Huzzah to SoSH. It is on." And from SoSH to RomeroRomine, we all appreciate the work you are doing over there. Be safe.
1. Ladies and gentleman. Hello and welcoooommmmeee to Fenwaaaaayyyyyy Paaaaarrkkkk!!! And now it’s time for the Maaaiiinnnn Eeeeeevvenntt, a battle set for best of seven falls. Introducing first in the gray with red trim. the Best of the Midwest, the Battling Birds, the nine time champeeennss of the woooorrrllllldddd, The St. Louis Cardinals. And their opponents, in the white with red trim, the comeback kids, the band of idiots, the six time champeeeeenns of the wooorrlldd (Note: Damn it, we won 1904 by forfeit) the Boooosssttooonn Reeeeddd Sooooxxxx!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Note: Can we start calling Fenway the Idiot Box? Jose thinks we should.)
That’s right, with apologies to the Simpsons, this ain’t no town series, this ain’t no county series, this ain’t no region series, this ain’t no nation series, this ain’t no continent series, this ain’t no hemisphere series. This is the WORLD SERIES!!!!! And whoever wins it is going to be the champion of the entire world. Will the winner be the champion of Yemen? You bet. Liechtenstein? Sure thing. The Marianas Trench? Uh huh. Even the seas will be under the domain of the winner of this series. Lava men, mole men, morlocks whatever else lives beneath the Earth’s crust, the winner of this series will be the champion of them all.
And the Red Sox have a serious advantage in this series. History suggests that Cardinals manager Tony LaRussa cannot win a World Series without the help of a natural disaster, After all, his superior Oakland teams were swept in 1988 and 1990 by the Dodgers and Reds respectively. His only win came in 1989 in a Series disrupted by the San Francisco earthquake. His problem is that this time his opponent IS the natural disaster. Gary Sheffield told us so.
2. There is broad agreement that the Achilles Heel of this fearsome Cardinals team is its starting pitching, which, to be generous, consists of a bunch of nobodies. But actually, it’ even worse than that. Jose has obtained shocking evidence two of the Cardinals’ four starters may not even technically exist. The Cardinals’ four starters are Woody Williams, Matt Morris, Jason Marquis and Jeff Suppan. Earlier in the year, Chris Carpenter was also a starter, Notice anything odd about that group of five? That’s right, three of the five have first and last names that begin with the same letter. This is the trademark of none other than comic book legend Stan Lee. Think about it. Peter Parker is the Spectacular Spiderman. Reed Richards is Mr. Fantastic. Sue Storm is the Invisible Girl/Woman. Scott Summers is Cyclops. Otto Octavius is Dr. Octopus. Matt Murdoch is Daredevil. Bruce Banner is The Hulk. Curt Connors is the Lizard. Warren Worthington is the Angel/Archangel. You get the point.
Remember the expectations for St. Louis at the beginning of the year? Everyone knew they could hit, but their starting pitching was deeply suspect. As a result everyone picked them to finish third in the N.L. Central. Tony LaRussa is a smart guy. He knew his pitching was suspect, so he hired Stan Lee to create three pitchers to shore up his rotation. They’ve been successful thus far (Note: Except for Carpenter who was effective until he was pulled due to injury/irreparable flaws in his story arc) because opposing hitters have not realized that they do not exist. Hitters keep swinging and missing at pitches that aren’t there. (Note: On the other hand, when hitters do connect with these phantom pitches the word "KAPOW" or "BAM" magically materializes on the field.) So remember, Red Sox hitters, as long as you remember that Woody Williams is not real, that Matt Morris is as fictional as Hello Kitty, they can’t hurt you. Need more proof? Look for the dialogue bubbles around Williams’ during the post game press conference.
What’s that you say? Lot’s of major leaguers have alliterative names? What about Darren Dreifort, Rick Reed, Ugueth Urtain Urbina and even our own Mike Myers? Isn’t that all the more proof? After all, Mike Myers as Bill Simmons always reminds us, is a fictional character from the Halloween films. Ssssssshhhhhh…We don’t want Larry Walker or Jim Edmonds to know.
3. Cardinals fans are widely regarded as among the best in baseball and have been known to travel to road games dressed as Catholic Cardinals. In the spirit of neighborliness and good sportsmanship, Jose would like to offer a warning to Cardinals fans that come to Boston so dressed. Boston has not been so friendly to Cardinals of late. Cardinal Law was driven from the city (Note: And we can only hope these Cardinals will follow his lead). Also, don’t be surprised if you’re accosted by people demanding to know why you are closing their church or turning a blind eye to all manner of abuse. Other than that enjoy the game.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
First things first. Before we dive into this special World Series edition of KEYS. Jose has some business to attend to. Longtime SoSHer RomeroRomine, who is currently working as a civilian at a military compound in Iraq, asked his brother, who is, by a remarkable coincidence, Jose’s friend Jamie, to request that Jose send along his huzzahs from the Middle East. So from RomeroRomine, "Huzzah to the Red Sox, Huzzah to SoSH. It is on." And from SoSH to RomeroRomine, we all appreciate the work you are doing over there. Be safe.
1. Ladies and gentleman. Hello and welcoooommmmeee to Fenwaaaaayyyyyy Paaaaarrkkkk!!! And now it’s time for the Maaaiiinnnn Eeeeeevvenntt, a battle set for best of seven falls. Introducing first in the gray with red trim. the Best of the Midwest, the Battling Birds, the nine time champeeennss of the woooorrrllllldddd, The St. Louis Cardinals. And their opponents, in the white with red trim, the comeback kids, the band of idiots, the six time champeeeeenns of the wooorrlldd (Note: Damn it, we won 1904 by forfeit) the Boooosssttooonn Reeeeddd Sooooxxxx!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Note: Can we start calling Fenway the Idiot Box? Jose thinks we should.)
That’s right, with apologies to the Simpsons, this ain’t no town series, this ain’t no county series, this ain’t no region series, this ain’t no nation series, this ain’t no continent series, this ain’t no hemisphere series. This is the WORLD SERIES!!!!! And whoever wins it is going to be the champion of the entire world. Will the winner be the champion of Yemen? You bet. Liechtenstein? Sure thing. The Marianas Trench? Uh huh. Even the seas will be under the domain of the winner of this series. Lava men, mole men, morlocks whatever else lives beneath the Earth’s crust, the winner of this series will be the champion of them all.
And the Red Sox have a serious advantage in this series. History suggests that Cardinals manager Tony LaRussa cannot win a World Series without the help of a natural disaster, After all, his superior Oakland teams were swept in 1988 and 1990 by the Dodgers and Reds respectively. His only win came in 1989 in a Series disrupted by the San Francisco earthquake. His problem is that this time his opponent IS the natural disaster. Gary Sheffield told us so.
2. There is broad agreement that the Achilles Heel of this fearsome Cardinals team is its starting pitching, which, to be generous, consists of a bunch of nobodies. But actually, it’ even worse than that. Jose has obtained shocking evidence two of the Cardinals’ four starters may not even technically exist. The Cardinals’ four starters are Woody Williams, Matt Morris, Jason Marquis and Jeff Suppan. Earlier in the year, Chris Carpenter was also a starter, Notice anything odd about that group of five? That’s right, three of the five have first and last names that begin with the same letter. This is the trademark of none other than comic book legend Stan Lee. Think about it. Peter Parker is the Spectacular Spiderman. Reed Richards is Mr. Fantastic. Sue Storm is the Invisible Girl/Woman. Scott Summers is Cyclops. Otto Octavius is Dr. Octopus. Matt Murdoch is Daredevil. Bruce Banner is The Hulk. Curt Connors is the Lizard. Warren Worthington is the Angel/Archangel. You get the point.
Remember the expectations for St. Louis at the beginning of the year? Everyone knew they could hit, but their starting pitching was deeply suspect. As a result everyone picked them to finish third in the N.L. Central. Tony LaRussa is a smart guy. He knew his pitching was suspect, so he hired Stan Lee to create three pitchers to shore up his rotation. They’ve been successful thus far (Note: Except for Carpenter who was effective until he was pulled due to injury/irreparable flaws in his story arc) because opposing hitters have not realized that they do not exist. Hitters keep swinging and missing at pitches that aren’t there. (Note: On the other hand, when hitters do connect with these phantom pitches the word "KAPOW" or "BAM" magically materializes on the field.) So remember, Red Sox hitters, as long as you remember that Woody Williams is not real, that Matt Morris is as fictional as Hello Kitty, they can’t hurt you. Need more proof? Look for the dialogue bubbles around Williams’ during the post game press conference.
What’s that you say? Lot’s of major leaguers have alliterative names? What about Darren Dreifort, Rick Reed, Ugueth Urtain Urbina and even our own Mike Myers? Isn’t that all the more proof? After all, Mike Myers as Bill Simmons always reminds us, is a fictional character from the Halloween films. Ssssssshhhhhh…We don’t want Larry Walker or Jim Edmonds to know.
3. Cardinals fans are widely regarded as among the best in baseball and have been known to travel to road games dressed as Catholic Cardinals. In the spirit of neighborliness and good sportsmanship, Jose would like to offer a warning to Cardinals fans that come to Boston so dressed. Boston has not been so friendly to Cardinals of late. Cardinal Law was driven from the city (Note: And we can only hope these Cardinals will follow his lead). Also, don’t be surprised if you’re accosted by people demanding to know why you are closing their church or turning a blind eye to all manner of abuse. Other than that enjoy the game.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Thursday, October 21
10/21 KEYS TO THE ALCS
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE ALCS.
1. There has now been article after article, after article about Curt Euro’s medical condition, the experimental sutures in his foot and his extraordinary game 6 performance in the ALCS. He is being compared favorably to Willis Reed, Larry Bird and Kirk Gibson. And actually, he outdid them all. But there has been another story of injury an anguish overcome because the good of the team demanded it; it is the story of Jose Melendez.
The morning after the Red Sox’s dramatic game 5 victory, Jose awoke with a sharp and intense pain in his left elbow. It was as though someone had struck it with a hammer or possibly a pipe wrench. When he straightened it, it hurt. When he bent it, it hurt. When he did noting, it also hurt. And in the event that anything touched it, it the pain had Jose screaming like A-Rod after a correct call at first base. Over the course of the morning the elbow grew red and swollen. It filled with fluid, became hot to the touch and the pain became more constant and driving.
Jose knew something was wrong, But thankfully he knew what to do, take four Advil and ignore it.
He pounded out the now famous "You are Jon Lieber" KEYS through the pain , and the Sox went on to win game 6 on the strength of Curt Euro’s brilliant effort.
Jose awoke the next morning to even greater pain in the elbow and some evidence that the soreness was spreading. Jose fought through the day again, wrote the KEYS and watched the Red Sox’s greatest win in 86 years. After the KEYS were posted that day, Jose thought about going to the doctor, but determined that the risk that he might be given "medical care" that would stretch into game time was unacceptable. He resolved to gut it out through the night.
Jose knows that the injury affected the KEYS. Twice he used "too" instead of "to" and typos spread like Chicken Pox, but damn it this was the ALCS, and Jose’s team was counting on him. Besides, had Jose not written the second guessing would have been unbelievable. Tony Castrati would have questioned Jose’s heart. Eric Kneel would have questioned his testicular fortitude. "Sixty percent of Jose Melendez is better than 100 percent of anyone else," the critics would say. "If he cared about this team as much as he cares about next year’s contract, he’d be out there."
And so Jose was out there and he delivered. He rejected a preset word count, choosing instead to write until he could write no more eventually working past 1,000 words each day. Frankly, if one looks at the quality of his KEY 3s, he probably should have been yanked after 600. He could seek medical care after the ALCS, and he did. "You have cellulitis," said the doctor. In another day or two it would have been in your blood. Then you’d be very sick and in the hospital. You’re lucky you came in when you did."
"Jose is lucky it wasn’t a best of nine series," answered Jose.
So Jose was sent off to Mass General Emergency Room for three hours for intravenous antibiotics. His stay had two highlights. First, they evacuated the emergency room after a security guard was forced to use pepper spray to restrain a violent patient in the psych emergency ward. It was Jose’s own little taste of playoff pandemonium. Second, while waiting in the hall with an IV in his arm, Jose had a lovely conversation with a young Tufts student in a Red Sox T-shirt, who had broken both feet while celebrating the Sox’s win in Kenmore Square. Apparently, she had climbed atop a sausage stand. Once there, the best idea seemed to be jumping off. It was not the best idea. So let this be a lesson to all of Jose’s fans. When Jose wins the Pulitzer, please riot responsibly.
So the bottom line is that Jose is now on antibiotics for ten days and bed rest until Monday. That means an alcohol free World Series (Note: Isn’t this like an R rated movie with no nudity?) Also, Jose is not supposed to do anything with his left arm, including typing. So Jose is writing this and KEYS for games 1 and 2 one handed, and frankly Jose is no longer the efficient one handed typist he was in his teenage days.
2. But there was a baseball game last night and it had nothing to do with Jose’s medical problems. The big shocker (Note: To almost everyone except Jose) was that DLowe truly was transformed. Now and forever, or at least until the regular season starts next year, he is the Paranoid Android no more. Truly, he is Megatron. In fact, when he comes out to pitch from now on, they should play the Transformers theme. You know "The Transformers, more than meets the eye. The Transformers, Robots in disguise. Red Sox face their battle to destroy the evil forces of the Yankees" (Note: Oops, Jose means Cardinals or Astros now.) Also, every time DLowe gets the third out of an inning they should play the Transformers "change of scene" music …. Da da da da daaaaayyuupppp.
3. Another big story last night was Johnny Damon’s spectacular night at the plate following an awful series. Everyone who had suggested that Terry Eurona should have benched him for "The World’s Most Perfectly Sculpted Jew" or Dave Roberts now admits they were wrong and that Eurona made a wise choice. But let’s be honest, It was an easy choice. Anyone with even the most rudimentary understanding of the New Testament knew that Johnny was going to be resurrected.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE ALCS.
1. There has now been article after article, after article about Curt Euro’s medical condition, the experimental sutures in his foot and his extraordinary game 6 performance in the ALCS. He is being compared favorably to Willis Reed, Larry Bird and Kirk Gibson. And actually, he outdid them all. But there has been another story of injury an anguish overcome because the good of the team demanded it; it is the story of Jose Melendez.
The morning after the Red Sox’s dramatic game 5 victory, Jose awoke with a sharp and intense pain in his left elbow. It was as though someone had struck it with a hammer or possibly a pipe wrench. When he straightened it, it hurt. When he bent it, it hurt. When he did noting, it also hurt. And in the event that anything touched it, it the pain had Jose screaming like A-Rod after a correct call at first base. Over the course of the morning the elbow grew red and swollen. It filled with fluid, became hot to the touch and the pain became more constant and driving.
Jose knew something was wrong, But thankfully he knew what to do, take four Advil and ignore it.
He pounded out the now famous "You are Jon Lieber" KEYS through the pain , and the Sox went on to win game 6 on the strength of Curt Euro’s brilliant effort.
Jose awoke the next morning to even greater pain in the elbow and some evidence that the soreness was spreading. Jose fought through the day again, wrote the KEYS and watched the Red Sox’s greatest win in 86 years. After the KEYS were posted that day, Jose thought about going to the doctor, but determined that the risk that he might be given "medical care" that would stretch into game time was unacceptable. He resolved to gut it out through the night.
Jose knows that the injury affected the KEYS. Twice he used "too" instead of "to" and typos spread like Chicken Pox, but damn it this was the ALCS, and Jose’s team was counting on him. Besides, had Jose not written the second guessing would have been unbelievable. Tony Castrati would have questioned Jose’s heart. Eric Kneel would have questioned his testicular fortitude. "Sixty percent of Jose Melendez is better than 100 percent of anyone else," the critics would say. "If he cared about this team as much as he cares about next year’s contract, he’d be out there."
And so Jose was out there and he delivered. He rejected a preset word count, choosing instead to write until he could write no more eventually working past 1,000 words each day. Frankly, if one looks at the quality of his KEY 3s, he probably should have been yanked after 600. He could seek medical care after the ALCS, and he did. "You have cellulitis," said the doctor. In another day or two it would have been in your blood. Then you’d be very sick and in the hospital. You’re lucky you came in when you did."
"Jose is lucky it wasn’t a best of nine series," answered Jose.
So Jose was sent off to Mass General Emergency Room for three hours for intravenous antibiotics. His stay had two highlights. First, they evacuated the emergency room after a security guard was forced to use pepper spray to restrain a violent patient in the psych emergency ward. It was Jose’s own little taste of playoff pandemonium. Second, while waiting in the hall with an IV in his arm, Jose had a lovely conversation with a young Tufts student in a Red Sox T-shirt, who had broken both feet while celebrating the Sox’s win in Kenmore Square. Apparently, she had climbed atop a sausage stand. Once there, the best idea seemed to be jumping off. It was not the best idea. So let this be a lesson to all of Jose’s fans. When Jose wins the Pulitzer, please riot responsibly.
So the bottom line is that Jose is now on antibiotics for ten days and bed rest until Monday. That means an alcohol free World Series (Note: Isn’t this like an R rated movie with no nudity?) Also, Jose is not supposed to do anything with his left arm, including typing. So Jose is writing this and KEYS for games 1 and 2 one handed, and frankly Jose is no longer the efficient one handed typist he was in his teenage days.
2. But there was a baseball game last night and it had nothing to do with Jose’s medical problems. The big shocker (Note: To almost everyone except Jose) was that DLowe truly was transformed. Now and forever, or at least until the regular season starts next year, he is the Paranoid Android no more. Truly, he is Megatron. In fact, when he comes out to pitch from now on, they should play the Transformers theme. You know "The Transformers, more than meets the eye. The Transformers, Robots in disguise. Red Sox face their battle to destroy the evil forces of the Yankees" (Note: Oops, Jose means Cardinals or Astros now.) Also, every time DLowe gets the third out of an inning they should play the Transformers "change of scene" music …. Da da da da daaaaayyuupppp.
3. Another big story last night was Johnny Damon’s spectacular night at the plate following an awful series. Everyone who had suggested that Terry Eurona should have benched him for "The World’s Most Perfectly Sculpted Jew" or Dave Roberts now admits they were wrong and that Eurona made a wise choice. But let’s be honest, It was an easy choice. Anyone with even the most rudimentary understanding of the New Testament knew that Johnny was going to be resurrected.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE ALCS.
Wednesday, October 20
From SoSH: Re: 10-20-04 Sox make history (Pt.4)
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. “If man is 5, if man is 5, if man is 5, if man is 5. Then the devil is 6, then the devil is 6 then the devil is 6 then the devil is 6. And if the devil is 6, THEN GOD IS 7, THEN GOD IS 7, THEN GOD is 7!!!” Surely, the Pixies of Boston must have been anticipating this situation when they wrote those words in “Monkey Gone to Heaven.” In game 5, our Boston Red Sox overcame the limitations of men with their superhuman performance. In game 6, they overcame the 55,000 bloodthirsty devil worshipers in the Bronx. And tonight, in game 7, they have but to embrace the deity, to pursue oneness with God, to seek peace and enlightenment. So give Kevin Youkilis a hug. He is the only god in the stadium and he is on our side…in fact, he’s under contract.
More on last night: Jose loved the sight of NYPD Blue manning the field after the Yankees fans went mad with rage over MLB Blue’s decision to make two correct calls.
“How dare they judge us fairly?” thought the Yankee partisans. “Are we not still the New York Yankees? Why should we suddenly be subject to the rules of the game? If we wish to strike a pitcher than we shall. If we think the oppositions should play with only five fielders is it not our divine right? The slap was but a just and righteous punishment for interfering with his social betters.”
The conventional explanation of the police in riot gear is that they were there to protect players and umpires from the whims of an animalistic and potentialy violent crowd. That is a lie. The constabulary in riot shields, armed with nightsticks and nine millimeter handguns had not come to protect the Red Sox from the fans. Why would they need to? Twenty-five Red Sox are men enough to whoop the entire city of New York if needs be. No, they fuzz was there to protect the Yankees from the Red Sox. Why? Because only the force of arms, only the full and fearsome power of the state could even hope to deter the Red Sox colossus.
Yes, Gary Sheffield was right when he called the Sox a “walking disaster.” The Red Sox are a volcano erupting with fury, liquidating all that stands before them. The Red Sox are a hurricane, battering and brutalizing the Yankees, pausing for a moment before the onslaught begins anew. The Red Sox are a tidal wave, washing away everything in their path. The Red Sox are a meteor strike, coming out of nowhere to lay waste to the land.
In fairness, the Yankees are a disaster to—they are a tornado. They emit a lot of wind, but in the end they mostly just suck.
2. At this point it appears that a certain DLowe the Paranoid Android will be starting game 7 for the Red Sox. One imagines that the Yankees sluggers must be rubbing their hands together with glee in anticipation of DLowe’s seemingly inevitable short circuit. This is good. Jose loves surprises.
You see, there’s a funny thing about robots—they change. With human beings, what you see is what you get. To quote legendary boxing trainer Cus D’Amato by way of Ron Borges, “A man born round don’t die square.” Kevin Brown will always be Kevin Brown. He came out of that goat a yokel with a tendency towards implosion, and he’ll die a yokel with a tendency towards implosion. ARod will always be ARod, a scared little girl who would be happier brushing her hair and looking in the mirror, than contributing to here team. And Jason Giambi will always be Jason Giambi. No, wait. He completely changed who he was with chemicals. Bad example. So let’s substitute this one. Gary Sheffield will always be…no…he doesn’t work either. One more. Tanyon Sturze will always be Tanyon Sturze, the shame of Worcester, a natural born Devil Ray who expects to lose and then ensures that he does.
Robots, by contrast, are never just robots. Robots can be born round and reforged so they are square or rhomboid or whatever. They change; they upgrade. They are deconstructed and rebuilt. What you see is never what you get. When the Yankees go to bat in the bottom of the first tonight, they will be looking for a neurotic little droid; they will have prepared for a neurotic little droid, but they will not find him. Instead, they will find a robot transformed. DLowe will be Megatron, ready to transform into a gun and launch bullets across the corners of the plate. DLowe will be Voltron, ready to combine five other robots into an invincible power. DLowe will be the Iron Giant, a visitor from another world who to quote Sam Melendez “may fall apart but always comes back together.” It is game 7 of the ALCS, and the Yankees feel safe behind their impenetrable Maginot line.
3. Immediately after Keith Foulke’s game ending strike out of Tony “Nice Guy Finishing Last” Clark, Jose made two phone calls. The first was to his brother.
“Sam,” Jose said. “Jose thinks he is going to write about 800 words tomorrow on A-Rod’s mincing, limp-wristed slap that even a ten-year old girl would have been embarrassed to dispense.”
The second call was to Jose’s friend Jamie.
“Jose,” Jamie said. “The best analysis I heard of tonight’s game came from my girlfriend Sara. As soon as they showed the replay of the A-Rod play, she remarked ‘You know, A-Rod runs like Phoebe from friends.” Poof, the 800 words was completely gone. What could Jose say, how many volumes would it take for him to capture the perfection of that characterization? (Note: Maybe A-Rod didn’t know he was doing something wrong? Maybe he just thought that slapping is what “slap hitters do.”)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. “If man is 5, if man is 5, if man is 5, if man is 5. Then the devil is 6, then the devil is 6 then the devil is 6 then the devil is 6. And if the devil is 6, THEN GOD IS 7, THEN GOD IS 7, THEN GOD is 7!!!” Surely, the Pixies of Boston must have been anticipating this situation when they wrote those words in “Monkey Gone to Heaven.” In game 5, our Boston Red Sox overcame the limitations of men with their superhuman performance. In game 6, they overcame the 55,000 bloodthirsty devil worshipers in the Bronx. And tonight, in game 7, they have but to embrace the deity, to pursue oneness with God, to seek peace and enlightenment. So give Kevin Youkilis a hug. He is the only god in the stadium and he is on our side…in fact, he’s under contract.
More on last night: Jose loved the sight of NYPD Blue manning the field after the Yankees fans went mad with rage over MLB Blue’s decision to make two correct calls.
“How dare they judge us fairly?” thought the Yankee partisans. “Are we not still the New York Yankees? Why should we suddenly be subject to the rules of the game? If we wish to strike a pitcher than we shall. If we think the oppositions should play with only five fielders is it not our divine right? The slap was but a just and righteous punishment for interfering with his social betters.”
The conventional explanation of the police in riot gear is that they were there to protect players and umpires from the whims of an animalistic and potentialy violent crowd. That is a lie. The constabulary in riot shields, armed with nightsticks and nine millimeter handguns had not come to protect the Red Sox from the fans. Why would they need to? Twenty-five Red Sox are men enough to whoop the entire city of New York if needs be. No, they fuzz was there to protect the Yankees from the Red Sox. Why? Because only the force of arms, only the full and fearsome power of the state could even hope to deter the Red Sox colossus.
Yes, Gary Sheffield was right when he called the Sox a “walking disaster.” The Red Sox are a volcano erupting with fury, liquidating all that stands before them. The Red Sox are a hurricane, battering and brutalizing the Yankees, pausing for a moment before the onslaught begins anew. The Red Sox are a tidal wave, washing away everything in their path. The Red Sox are a meteor strike, coming out of nowhere to lay waste to the land.
In fairness, the Yankees are a disaster to—they are a tornado. They emit a lot of wind, but in the end they mostly just suck.
2. At this point it appears that a certain DLowe the Paranoid Android will be starting game 7 for the Red Sox. One imagines that the Yankees sluggers must be rubbing their hands together with glee in anticipation of DLowe’s seemingly inevitable short circuit. This is good. Jose loves surprises.
You see, there’s a funny thing about robots—they change. With human beings, what you see is what you get. To quote legendary boxing trainer Cus D’Amato by way of Ron Borges, “A man born round don’t die square.” Kevin Brown will always be Kevin Brown. He came out of that goat a yokel with a tendency towards implosion, and he’ll die a yokel with a tendency towards implosion. ARod will always be ARod, a scared little girl who would be happier brushing her hair and looking in the mirror, than contributing to here team. And Jason Giambi will always be Jason Giambi. No, wait. He completely changed who he was with chemicals. Bad example. So let’s substitute this one. Gary Sheffield will always be…no…he doesn’t work either. One more. Tanyon Sturze will always be Tanyon Sturze, the shame of Worcester, a natural born Devil Ray who expects to lose and then ensures that he does.
Robots, by contrast, are never just robots. Robots can be born round and reforged so they are square or rhomboid or whatever. They change; they upgrade. They are deconstructed and rebuilt. What you see is never what you get. When the Yankees go to bat in the bottom of the first tonight, they will be looking for a neurotic little droid; they will have prepared for a neurotic little droid, but they will not find him. Instead, they will find a robot transformed. DLowe will be Megatron, ready to transform into a gun and launch bullets across the corners of the plate. DLowe will be Voltron, ready to combine five other robots into an invincible power. DLowe will be the Iron Giant, a visitor from another world who to quote Sam Melendez “may fall apart but always comes back together.” It is game 7 of the ALCS, and the Yankees feel safe behind their impenetrable Maginot line.
3. Immediately after Keith Foulke’s game ending strike out of Tony “Nice Guy Finishing Last” Clark, Jose made two phone calls. The first was to his brother.
“Sam,” Jose said. “Jose thinks he is going to write about 800 words tomorrow on A-Rod’s mincing, limp-wristed slap that even a ten-year old girl would have been embarrassed to dispense.”
The second call was to Jose’s friend Jamie.
“Jose,” Jamie said. “The best analysis I heard of tonight’s game came from my girlfriend Sara. As soon as they showed the replay of the A-Rod play, she remarked ‘You know, A-Rod runs like Phoebe from friends.” Poof, the 800 words was completely gone. What could Jose say, how many volumes would it take for him to capture the perfection of that characterization? (Note: Maybe A-Rod didn’t know he was doing something wrong? Maybe he just thought that slapping is what “slap hitters do.”)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Tuesday, October 19
From SoSH: Re: 10-19-04 Sox make history (Pt.3)
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. As the clock ticked past 11 o’clock last night, Jose found himself on his knees, hands folded in a moment of humble prayer. He had already spent the first seven innings sipping Guinness and chewing nachos at a tavern. For the second seven he returned home, lest anyone mistake his nervous fidgeting for a seizure and call 911. (Note: Would 911 come if you called them during that game? If so, they’d have the game on in the ambulance right?) Inside his North End tenement, Jose took to doing everything he could to release his nervous energy as the game progressed. In the eighth inning, it was pushups, situps and curls. For the ninth and tenth, Jose went to ironing. In the eleventh, he clipped his fingernails and toenails. (Note: If Johnny Damon can clip his toenails during a playoff game, why can’t Jose?) By the end of the eleventh, every muscle was toned, every shirt neatly pressed and every hangnail trimmed away…so Jose paced for the next three innings. He walked back on forth across the cold, cracked linoleum of his living room/kitchen floor not even daring to tie the drawstring on his pajama pants, lest it somehow affect the knuckleball.
Then with David Oritz at the plate in the 14th Jose had a revelation. He should kneel as if in prayer. Jose had done this during both of the Patriots’ Super Bowl winning field goals, the second on a foul and sticky bar room floor, and it had worked. Why not now? So Jose got down on his knees and folded his hands. To say he prayed, might be a bit much. Praying for sports victories seems absurd and shallow to Jose. In fact, if there is a just and merciful God, it seems like the sort of thing that might piss him off. But still Jose humbled himself in anticipation of Ortiz’s hit. Had the game gone to the 15th, Jose might have been on to self-flagellation or a vow of silence. (Note: Jose was a little disappointed with how the game ended. Jose’s brother had vowed to shave his beard into a chin strap if Ortiz hit another walk off homer. Hopefully, the single is worth at least an Abraham Lincoln.
But Ortiz came through. The Sox came through, and so we head to game 6; we return to the Bronx. Where will Jose find himself at the end of this game? Doing Thai Chi in a bar room? Astral projected in to Yankee Stadium? Watching TV and smoking peyote in a sweatlodge. Perhaps, just this once, religion is the answer.
2. Eric Kneel’s Page 2 column today was good. Really good. In fact it was so good that Jose is going to steal the concept, if not the content, for KEY 2.
Imagine you’re Jon Lieber right now.
Imagine you're Jon Lieber today, this minute, with the ball in your hand and the curtain about to go up.
You've never been here before. The lights, the millions of fans the pressure that comes with being the goat and failing in the biggest moment of your life. It's all new to you, and you have no idea how to handle it.
You keep thinking about the Yankee mystique, hoping that it will overcome your own weaknesses. But deep down inside you know that it can’t. You remember lying in the hospital wondering if you’d ever pitch again. You remember thinking about this day and wondering if you could stand the pressure.
And you can't believe your bad luck. You shouldn’t have to do this. You were supposed to start Game 2 of the World Series. A game 2 you can handle, there are no consequences, but a game 6? Those are not for the faint of heart, and you are the faint of heart.
You're Jon Lieber. And you can’t relax. You need a valium or a drink or a hooker, but you can’t get out of bed. What if your sinkers don’t sink? What if your curves don’t hook? You keep screaming inside your head “WHY DO I HAVE TO DO THIS???” And the answer comes…Your teammates failed you. They put you in this position. They set you at there, but will they be blamed when you fail tonight? No, when you fail, you will be alone.
You seethe over the attention received by A-Rod and Jeter. You envy Mussina’s good looks. You hate Kevin Brown because he’s a d*ck. You know in your heart of hearts that when you fail, Steinbrenner, who once received you so warmly, will toss you to the curb like so much garbage.
You are Jonathan Ray Lieber and you’ve never been so scared in your life.
You are Jonathan Ray Lieber and everyone in the world outside of New York is rooting for you to fail.
You are Jon Lieber and you went to the Yankees for the money. You thought it would be easy, but it’s not. It is the hardest thing you’ve ever done.
You couldn’t sleep last night. Breathing was a burden. When you close your eyes you see David Ortiz, when you open them the light seems blinding.
You are Jon Lieber and you are going to fail. You are Jon Lieber and there is nothing you can do.
3. So what if no team has ever come back from down 3-0 to tie a series at 3-3 before? There are lots of things that are happening for the first time in history today. A few examples:
-This is the first time “actor” Chris Kattan has ever had a 34th birthday.
-This is the first time Ronald Reagan’s daughter Patti Davis has ever sued the Salvation Army.
-This is the first time that a Boston Herald headline “Curse This” has ever infringed on Jerry Remy’s copyright before.
All around the world, there are first birthdays being celebrated, first communions being received, first aid being applied and first class being flown. Today is a day of firsts. And the Red Sox evening the series will be but one among many.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. As the clock ticked past 11 o’clock last night, Jose found himself on his knees, hands folded in a moment of humble prayer. He had already spent the first seven innings sipping Guinness and chewing nachos at a tavern. For the second seven he returned home, lest anyone mistake his nervous fidgeting for a seizure and call 911. (Note: Would 911 come if you called them during that game? If so, they’d have the game on in the ambulance right?) Inside his North End tenement, Jose took to doing everything he could to release his nervous energy as the game progressed. In the eighth inning, it was pushups, situps and curls. For the ninth and tenth, Jose went to ironing. In the eleventh, he clipped his fingernails and toenails. (Note: If Johnny Damon can clip his toenails during a playoff game, why can’t Jose?) By the end of the eleventh, every muscle was toned, every shirt neatly pressed and every hangnail trimmed away…so Jose paced for the next three innings. He walked back on forth across the cold, cracked linoleum of his living room/kitchen floor not even daring to tie the drawstring on his pajama pants, lest it somehow affect the knuckleball.
Then with David Oritz at the plate in the 14th Jose had a revelation. He should kneel as if in prayer. Jose had done this during both of the Patriots’ Super Bowl winning field goals, the second on a foul and sticky bar room floor, and it had worked. Why not now? So Jose got down on his knees and folded his hands. To say he prayed, might be a bit much. Praying for sports victories seems absurd and shallow to Jose. In fact, if there is a just and merciful God, it seems like the sort of thing that might piss him off. But still Jose humbled himself in anticipation of Ortiz’s hit. Had the game gone to the 15th, Jose might have been on to self-flagellation or a vow of silence. (Note: Jose was a little disappointed with how the game ended. Jose’s brother had vowed to shave his beard into a chin strap if Ortiz hit another walk off homer. Hopefully, the single is worth at least an Abraham Lincoln.
But Ortiz came through. The Sox came through, and so we head to game 6; we return to the Bronx. Where will Jose find himself at the end of this game? Doing Thai Chi in a bar room? Astral projected in to Yankee Stadium? Watching TV and smoking peyote in a sweatlodge. Perhaps, just this once, religion is the answer.
2. Eric Kneel’s Page 2 column today was good. Really good. In fact it was so good that Jose is going to steal the concept, if not the content, for KEY 2.
Imagine you’re Jon Lieber right now.
Imagine you're Jon Lieber today, this minute, with the ball in your hand and the curtain about to go up.
You've never been here before. The lights, the millions of fans the pressure that comes with being the goat and failing in the biggest moment of your life. It's all new to you, and you have no idea how to handle it.
You keep thinking about the Yankee mystique, hoping that it will overcome your own weaknesses. But deep down inside you know that it can’t. You remember lying in the hospital wondering if you’d ever pitch again. You remember thinking about this day and wondering if you could stand the pressure.
And you can't believe your bad luck. You shouldn’t have to do this. You were supposed to start Game 2 of the World Series. A game 2 you can handle, there are no consequences, but a game 6? Those are not for the faint of heart, and you are the faint of heart.
You're Jon Lieber. And you can’t relax. You need a valium or a drink or a hooker, but you can’t get out of bed. What if your sinkers don’t sink? What if your curves don’t hook? You keep screaming inside your head “WHY DO I HAVE TO DO THIS???” And the answer comes…Your teammates failed you. They put you in this position. They set you at there, but will they be blamed when you fail tonight? No, when you fail, you will be alone.
You seethe over the attention received by A-Rod and Jeter. You envy Mussina’s good looks. You hate Kevin Brown because he’s a d*ck. You know in your heart of hearts that when you fail, Steinbrenner, who once received you so warmly, will toss you to the curb like so much garbage.
You are Jonathan Ray Lieber and you’ve never been so scared in your life.
You are Jonathan Ray Lieber and everyone in the world outside of New York is rooting for you to fail.
You are Jon Lieber and you went to the Yankees for the money. You thought it would be easy, but it’s not. It is the hardest thing you’ve ever done.
You couldn’t sleep last night. Breathing was a burden. When you close your eyes you see David Ortiz, when you open them the light seems blinding.
You are Jon Lieber and you are going to fail. You are Jon Lieber and there is nothing you can do.
3. So what if no team has ever come back from down 3-0 to tie a series at 3-3 before? There are lots of things that are happening for the first time in history today. A few examples:
-This is the first time “actor” Chris Kattan has ever had a 34th birthday.
-This is the first time Ronald Reagan’s daughter Patti Davis has ever sued the Salvation Army.
-This is the first time that a Boston Herald headline “Curse This” has ever infringed on Jerry Remy’s copyright before.
All around the world, there are first birthdays being celebrated, first communions being received, first aid being applied and first class being flown. Today is a day of firsts. And the Red Sox evening the series will be but one among many.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Monday, October 18
From SoSH: Re: 10-18-04 Sox make history(Pt.2)
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. It is curious that Jose has less to say after last night’s fantastic win than after Saturday night’s horrific loss. Even coming up with that last sentence took 15 minutes. Jose supposes that there is more humor in the tragic than in the divine. That’s why Dante’s Inferno is such a laugh riot and Paradiso is such a drag. But if that is the price of victory, Jose will gladly be unfunny on seven more occasions this year.
After last night’s win, Jose doesn’t even care that the Kingston Trio sang the national anthem. (Note: Though couldn’t they have had “Theo and the Trio” join them for Charlie on the MTA?) (Additional Note: Even thought the Kingston Trio was a ridiculous choice, it was still a huge upgrade over the Cowsills. It’s like upgrading from John Burkett to…well not Curt Euro, but maybe Balki Arroyo.) We do appear to be moving further backwards in time with the anthem though, don’t we? Jose assumes that tonight we’ll have Mozart out there saluting America. Then, if we make it to the World Series, We’ll have Og the Caveman pounding it out on a sheepskin drum.
Last night’s game was theater of the improbable. DLowe the Paranoid Android pitched passably and ended each inning with a hearty exhale, and an “I can’t believe I got out of that inning look” instead of giving the look during each inning. Curtis Leskanic, who only the night before was about as effective as a tee, looked like the second coming of Lee Smith. The Red Sox even used a stolen base to tie a game. Yes, these are strange, strange days.
There’s been a lot of blame assigned in this series but Jose would like to give out a little credit to some of last night’s unsung heroes. First, he would like to give the Melendezette credit for realizing that hairy legs were not working in game 3 and shaving. Kevin Millar apparently had the same idea, in switching from the “facial pubes” to the neatly trimmed goatee. Jose doubted you both, but you proved him wrong. Second, Jose would like to give credit to his friend Audrey who brought a picture of her choking out Derek Jeter to Jose’s apartment, and lo and behold, choke Jeter did. Finally, Jose would like to thank Wes Chamberlain who the Red Sox acquired in exchange for Paul Quantrill in 1994. That set in motion the chain of events that led to Quantrill surrendering the game winning shot in the 12th last night. Wes Chamberlain, Jose thanks you for finally, finally contributing something to the Red Sox.
2. Let’s see. Jose couldn’t get up early and work on KEYS because he didn’t get to sleep until about 2:30, and Jose has a really busy day, so he can’t spend too much time writing at the office…soooo…well, lets just switch to default settings and that means shredding Tony Castrati.
What TC says: “The challenge remains considerable, the chance at ultimate victory highly improbable.”
What TC means: The mountain is high the valley is low, and you’re so confused, bout which way to go.
What TC says: The goal is to ensure there will be a game at Yankee Stadium tomorrow.
What TC means: After the Red Sox win, I will yell Goooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllllllll!!!
like that Spanish speaking soccer guy, Andres Cantor or whoever.
What TC says: “And never have the Red Sox been happier to take them one game at time.”
What TC means: According to my sources, the Yankees wanted the rain out replayed as part of a double header yesterday, but the Red Sox objected saying that it was “a really f’ing stupid idea.”
What TC says: “Added the Sox manager: ‘We did a lot of things to hang on.’”
What TC means: Terry Francona (sic) has one of those posters of the kitten hanging on a tree limb with the caption “Hang in there baby” in his office. He brought it out before the game and repeatedly told his players “Be the kitten. You are the kitten. You hear me Lowe? You’re the god damn kitten.”
What TC says: “There was tension and there was drama”
What TC means: Unlike Friday night when they replaced the rained out game with a David Arquette movie. That’s the best you can do FOX?
What TC says: “Is this a series now? It is still too early to say.”
What TC means: Five games is more a progression than a series in my mind.
What TC says: The Yankees outplayed the Red Sox in Games 1, 2 and 3, and they took the Sox to 12 innings in Game 4. There really is not much else to it.”
What TC means: And yet I managed to stretch it to 500 words.
What TC says: “At this time of year, the laws apply to everyone.”
What TC means: Yup, had O.J. committed murder in October he would have gone to prison, but he did it in June when the laws don’t apply to everyone, so he walked.
3. New York can have its Nicholsons and Spike Lees. You want celebrities? We’ve got celebrities up the wazoo right here in Boston baby!!! The stands were so thick with celebs that Jose didn’t need to be at the game or even have television point them out for him to pick out a few. Look over there!!! There’s former State Senator, Candidate for Governor and candidate for Lieutenant Governor Warren Tolman looking sharp in a traditional blue Red Sox cap. And who’s that over there? Why it’s Attorney General Tom Reilly wiping the sleep out of his eyes. No accusing the Red Sox and Major League Baseball of being a massively corrupt enterprise for you tonight Mr. Attorney General. Nope, tonight you just wallow in it.
You can see why Fox didn’t bother to mention that these celebs were in attendance. When you have names this big, you don’t need to name them. (Note: speaking of celebrities, did anyone else notice Brookline High Valedictorian Conan O’Brien at game 2, wearing some random non-Red Sox cap? Conan, if you’re going to go to the games, represent.)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. It is curious that Jose has less to say after last night’s fantastic win than after Saturday night’s horrific loss. Even coming up with that last sentence took 15 minutes. Jose supposes that there is more humor in the tragic than in the divine. That’s why Dante’s Inferno is such a laugh riot and Paradiso is such a drag. But if that is the price of victory, Jose will gladly be unfunny on seven more occasions this year.
After last night’s win, Jose doesn’t even care that the Kingston Trio sang the national anthem. (Note: Though couldn’t they have had “Theo and the Trio” join them for Charlie on the MTA?) (Additional Note: Even thought the Kingston Trio was a ridiculous choice, it was still a huge upgrade over the Cowsills. It’s like upgrading from John Burkett to…well not Curt Euro, but maybe Balki Arroyo.) We do appear to be moving further backwards in time with the anthem though, don’t we? Jose assumes that tonight we’ll have Mozart out there saluting America. Then, if we make it to the World Series, We’ll have Og the Caveman pounding it out on a sheepskin drum.
Last night’s game was theater of the improbable. DLowe the Paranoid Android pitched passably and ended each inning with a hearty exhale, and an “I can’t believe I got out of that inning look” instead of giving the look during each inning. Curtis Leskanic, who only the night before was about as effective as a tee, looked like the second coming of Lee Smith. The Red Sox even used a stolen base to tie a game. Yes, these are strange, strange days.
There’s been a lot of blame assigned in this series but Jose would like to give out a little credit to some of last night’s unsung heroes. First, he would like to give the Melendezette credit for realizing that hairy legs were not working in game 3 and shaving. Kevin Millar apparently had the same idea, in switching from the “facial pubes” to the neatly trimmed goatee. Jose doubted you both, but you proved him wrong. Second, Jose would like to give credit to his friend Audrey who brought a picture of her choking out Derek Jeter to Jose’s apartment, and lo and behold, choke Jeter did. Finally, Jose would like to thank Wes Chamberlain who the Red Sox acquired in exchange for Paul Quantrill in 1994. That set in motion the chain of events that led to Quantrill surrendering the game winning shot in the 12th last night. Wes Chamberlain, Jose thanks you for finally, finally contributing something to the Red Sox.
2. Let’s see. Jose couldn’t get up early and work on KEYS because he didn’t get to sleep until about 2:30, and Jose has a really busy day, so he can’t spend too much time writing at the office…soooo…well, lets just switch to default settings and that means shredding Tony Castrati.
What TC says: “The challenge remains considerable, the chance at ultimate victory highly improbable.”
What TC means: The mountain is high the valley is low, and you’re so confused, bout which way to go.
What TC says: The goal is to ensure there will be a game at Yankee Stadium tomorrow.
What TC means: After the Red Sox win, I will yell Goooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllllllll!!!
like that Spanish speaking soccer guy, Andres Cantor or whoever.
What TC says: “And never have the Red Sox been happier to take them one game at time.”
What TC means: According to my sources, the Yankees wanted the rain out replayed as part of a double header yesterday, but the Red Sox objected saying that it was “a really f’ing stupid idea.”
What TC says: “Added the Sox manager: ‘We did a lot of things to hang on.’”
What TC means: Terry Francona (sic) has one of those posters of the kitten hanging on a tree limb with the caption “Hang in there baby” in his office. He brought it out before the game and repeatedly told his players “Be the kitten. You are the kitten. You hear me Lowe? You’re the god damn kitten.”
What TC says: “There was tension and there was drama”
What TC means: Unlike Friday night when they replaced the rained out game with a David Arquette movie. That’s the best you can do FOX?
What TC says: “Is this a series now? It is still too early to say.”
What TC means: Five games is more a progression than a series in my mind.
What TC says: The Yankees outplayed the Red Sox in Games 1, 2 and 3, and they took the Sox to 12 innings in Game 4. There really is not much else to it.”
What TC means: And yet I managed to stretch it to 500 words.
What TC says: “At this time of year, the laws apply to everyone.”
What TC means: Yup, had O.J. committed murder in October he would have gone to prison, but he did it in June when the laws don’t apply to everyone, so he walked.
3. New York can have its Nicholsons and Spike Lees. You want celebrities? We’ve got celebrities up the wazoo right here in Boston baby!!! The stands were so thick with celebs that Jose didn’t need to be at the game or even have television point them out for him to pick out a few. Look over there!!! There’s former State Senator, Candidate for Governor and candidate for Lieutenant Governor Warren Tolman looking sharp in a traditional blue Red Sox cap. And who’s that over there? Why it’s Attorney General Tom Reilly wiping the sleep out of his eyes. No accusing the Red Sox and Major League Baseball of being a massively corrupt enterprise for you tonight Mr. Attorney General. Nope, tonight you just wallow in it.
You can see why Fox didn’t bother to mention that these celebs were in attendance. When you have names this big, you don’t need to name them. (Note: speaking of celebrities, did anyone else notice Brookline High Valedictorian Conan O’Brien at game 2, wearing some random non-Red Sox cap? Conan, if you’re going to go to the games, represent.)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Sunday, October 17
From SoSH:Re: 10-17-04 The Sox make history
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Everything about last night’s game was just wrong. Jose knows you don’t need him to tell you that, but he needs to say it. It was wrong like the Simpsons being preempted for the People’s Choice Awards, wrong like Ben Afflek continuing to get lead roles in movies and wrong like the WWF making John Bradshaw Layfield champion. Everything about this game left one feeling disturbed, unsettled and dirty. And it wasn’t just that the Red Sox couldn’t get anyone out (Note: Though this was most of the problem.) It was everything.
Jose really didn’t want to write today. It just seemed like such an unpleasant task to revisit the game. (Note: In fact SoSHer lushess255 who is one of JOSE’S PEOPLE, and took him to the game last night, suggested that Jose escape this task by using as KEYS "1. Pitching 2. Defense 3. Hitting." Actually not a bad idea as a "change up." Jose was thinking about doing it, but then the rant bug overcame him.)
The problems started with the national anthem. It was performed by the Cowsills, or something like that, who are apparently a Newport based family of musicians on whom the Partridge family was based. So after they sang the anthem, they sang their biggest hit which was the song "Hair" that his been a bit of a theme for this year’s wacky, hirsute Red Sox. Jose always thought that was from the musical "Hair," and maybe it is, but whatever. It would have been one thing if they’d played "Hair" while showing the montage of crazy Red Sox antics that usually accompanies it on the jumbotron, but they did not. Instead, the Cowsills stood there looking worn, burnt out and completely alone.
Aren’t there at least 600,000 musical acts in New England that would have been a better fit? Jose thinks he can name at least 200,000. And Jose’s not just talking about the big one’s, Aerosmith, The Pixies and so on. Jose would have been happier seeing Big D and the Kids Table, Dogzilla or the Allstonians up there. For that matter the Belmont High School Marching band would have been a better choice.
It got worse. The Cowsills were wearing Red Sox jerseys numbering 1 through 5. Normally, Jose could have lived with this. But not this time. Not when the trio of Dom DiMaggio, Bobby Doerr and Johnny Pesky threw out the first pitch. Bringing them out was a good choice, but all Jose could thing about was how Bobby Doerr must be noticing that his number, his RETIRED number, was on the back of a Cowsill. This did not bode well. Why not give Yaz’s number 8 to Lenny Clarke? Or Ted Williams’s number 9 to Jordan Knight? Or Joe Cronin’s number 4 to Maura Tierney? (Note: Okay, Jose could live with that and you could to.) Or give Carlton Fiske’s number 27 to Duke of Dorchester Pete Doherty? This was bad, bad, bad. And it got worse.
Jose will not dwell on the actual things that went on in the game, for if he started to list them, this KEY would be about 25,000 words. Frankly, about the only thing that went right was the guy from the State Police who sang "God Bless America." Jose’s is usually anti-God Bless America at ball games, he finds it deeply cynical, but this guy was amazing and was the only Bostonian on the field to show and balls last night. Suffice it to say that unless the Red Sox turn it around today, the KEYS TO THE GAME 2004 book (Note: which will be available shortly after the season on Jose’s site) will have an ending slightly less cheerful than Kate Chopin’s The Awakening.
2. During the rainout Jose learned from his friend Audrey, who is Chinese, that her father’s unpronounceable Chinese first name means "The Surrender of Italy." Jose finds this fascinating. Apparently, he was born in 1943 to a Chinese Nationalist Army General. Jose doesn’t know for sure, but he believes that "The Surrender of Italy" was named in anticipation of the eventual Italian surrender in World War II.
This has given Jose an idea. In the unlikely event that a child is born to him before the end of this series, he will be named "The Red Sox Make a Historic Come Back From Three Games Down to Win the ALCS." Of course, that only works if it’s a boy. If he has a daughter she will be named the much more feminine "Mariano Rivera Blows a Save in Game 7 of the ALCS and Picks Up the Loss While Simultaneously Throwing Out His Elbow So He Can Never Pitch Again." Mellifluous isn’t it?
Either of these names will be great unless the child ever falls down a well.
3. Jose spent the game last night sitting next to perhaps the two drunkest and most obnoxious people in all of Fenway Park. (Note: Jose isn’t saying that there weren’t people who were drunker, but he’s pretty sure anyone drunker was unconscious.) These two fellows were fairly cogent when they first sat down, and almost interesting, but as the beers kept coming and coming they descended into incoherence. Their commentary devolved to shrieking "Reeeeeeeeeeeeddddddddddddddd SSSSSSSSSSoooooooooooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx" in high pitched squeals and tormenting a couple of Yankee fans nearby with warnings of grotesque violence to come, screams of "Yankee Slut" and threats of assault on the female fan. Somehow this failed to inspire the Sox to a miraculous comeback.
It did, however, attract the attention of Fenway Park Security and the Boston Police Department, who, quite rightly, came to escort these gentlemen from the premises. Of course, one of them was having none of it and decided to go into passive resistance mode, falling to the ground and allowing his face to be dragged along it. Gandhi would have been proud. Frankly, it was the highlight of the evening. The funny thing though, was that as drunk and incoherent as these two guys were, they were still ten times as insightful as Tim McCarver.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Everything about last night’s game was just wrong. Jose knows you don’t need him to tell you that, but he needs to say it. It was wrong like the Simpsons being preempted for the People’s Choice Awards, wrong like Ben Afflek continuing to get lead roles in movies and wrong like the WWF making John Bradshaw Layfield champion. Everything about this game left one feeling disturbed, unsettled and dirty. And it wasn’t just that the Red Sox couldn’t get anyone out (Note: Though this was most of the problem.) It was everything.
Jose really didn’t want to write today. It just seemed like such an unpleasant task to revisit the game. (Note: In fact SoSHer lushess255 who is one of JOSE’S PEOPLE, and took him to the game last night, suggested that Jose escape this task by using as KEYS "1. Pitching 2. Defense 3. Hitting." Actually not a bad idea as a "change up." Jose was thinking about doing it, but then the rant bug overcame him.)
The problems started with the national anthem. It was performed by the Cowsills, or something like that, who are apparently a Newport based family of musicians on whom the Partridge family was based. So after they sang the anthem, they sang their biggest hit which was the song "Hair" that his been a bit of a theme for this year’s wacky, hirsute Red Sox. Jose always thought that was from the musical "Hair," and maybe it is, but whatever. It would have been one thing if they’d played "Hair" while showing the montage of crazy Red Sox antics that usually accompanies it on the jumbotron, but they did not. Instead, the Cowsills stood there looking worn, burnt out and completely alone.
Aren’t there at least 600,000 musical acts in New England that would have been a better fit? Jose thinks he can name at least 200,000. And Jose’s not just talking about the big one’s, Aerosmith, The Pixies and so on. Jose would have been happier seeing Big D and the Kids Table, Dogzilla or the Allstonians up there. For that matter the Belmont High School Marching band would have been a better choice.
It got worse. The Cowsills were wearing Red Sox jerseys numbering 1 through 5. Normally, Jose could have lived with this. But not this time. Not when the trio of Dom DiMaggio, Bobby Doerr and Johnny Pesky threw out the first pitch. Bringing them out was a good choice, but all Jose could thing about was how Bobby Doerr must be noticing that his number, his RETIRED number, was on the back of a Cowsill. This did not bode well. Why not give Yaz’s number 8 to Lenny Clarke? Or Ted Williams’s number 9 to Jordan Knight? Or Joe Cronin’s number 4 to Maura Tierney? (Note: Okay, Jose could live with that and you could to.) Or give Carlton Fiske’s number 27 to Duke of Dorchester Pete Doherty? This was bad, bad, bad. And it got worse.
Jose will not dwell on the actual things that went on in the game, for if he started to list them, this KEY would be about 25,000 words. Frankly, about the only thing that went right was the guy from the State Police who sang "God Bless America." Jose’s is usually anti-God Bless America at ball games, he finds it deeply cynical, but this guy was amazing and was the only Bostonian on the field to show and balls last night. Suffice it to say that unless the Red Sox turn it around today, the KEYS TO THE GAME 2004 book (Note: which will be available shortly after the season on Jose’s site) will have an ending slightly less cheerful than Kate Chopin’s The Awakening.
2. During the rainout Jose learned from his friend Audrey, who is Chinese, that her father’s unpronounceable Chinese first name means "The Surrender of Italy." Jose finds this fascinating. Apparently, he was born in 1943 to a Chinese Nationalist Army General. Jose doesn’t know for sure, but he believes that "The Surrender of Italy" was named in anticipation of the eventual Italian surrender in World War II.
This has given Jose an idea. In the unlikely event that a child is born to him before the end of this series, he will be named "The Red Sox Make a Historic Come Back From Three Games Down to Win the ALCS." Of course, that only works if it’s a boy. If he has a daughter she will be named the much more feminine "Mariano Rivera Blows a Save in Game 7 of the ALCS and Picks Up the Loss While Simultaneously Throwing Out His Elbow So He Can Never Pitch Again." Mellifluous isn’t it?
Either of these names will be great unless the child ever falls down a well.
3. Jose spent the game last night sitting next to perhaps the two drunkest and most obnoxious people in all of Fenway Park. (Note: Jose isn’t saying that there weren’t people who were drunker, but he’s pretty sure anyone drunker was unconscious.) These two fellows were fairly cogent when they first sat down, and almost interesting, but as the beers kept coming and coming they descended into incoherence. Their commentary devolved to shrieking "Reeeeeeeeeeeeddddddddddddddd SSSSSSSSSSoooooooooooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx" in high pitched squeals and tormenting a couple of Yankee fans nearby with warnings of grotesque violence to come, screams of "Yankee Slut" and threats of assault on the female fan. Somehow this failed to inspire the Sox to a miraculous comeback.
It did, however, attract the attention of Fenway Park Security and the Boston Police Department, who, quite rightly, came to escort these gentlemen from the premises. Of course, one of them was having none of it and decided to go into passive resistance mode, falling to the ground and allowing his face to be dragged along it. Gandhi would have been proud. Frankly, it was the highlight of the evening. The funny thing though, was that as drunk and incoherent as these two guys were, they were still ten times as insightful as Tim McCarver.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Friday, October 15
From SoSH: Re: 10-15-04 Bronson gets This
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. So what did Jose did with his off day? Let’s see, he started it by having a car breakdown on Newbury St. Ironically, Jose’s problem was the same as the Red Sox’s – broken starter – though Jose is certain that the Red Sox would gladly pay the $421 Jose did to get the starter repaired the same day. (Note: Mr. Henry, the Fenway Mobil station on the corner of Yawkey and Boylston does a great job repairing starters. Now sending Curt there might not work because he is, you know, human, but sending DLowe there for a tune up might not be a bad idea.) So when Jose broke down he did the same thing as any American, he called AAA. The only problem is that Jose is not technically a AAA member because he does not technically “own a car.” (Note: Jose was using his father’s car since his father is currently working in a small European non-country.)
The good people at AAA said “Well, unless your father is there, there’s nothing we can do for you. You’re not covered.” Jose thanked the nice lady and hung up. After a moment he picked up and dialed AAA again.
“Hi this is Richard Melendez and Richard needs a tow.” Jose said.
Instantly, and without question the customer service representative went right down the service check list and proceeded to treat Jose Melendez exactly like he was Richard Melendez. As you might imagine, Jose is gradually working towards a point here. Even if Curt Euro is unable to pitch game 5, the Red Sox should change their stated position and announce that he will pitch. Then, come game day, they should send out DLowe the Paranoid Android (newly tuned up) in a Curt Euro uniform and refuse to admit that it is DLowe no matter what. Theoretically, they could even remove DLowe’s face plate and replace it with some sort of Curt Euro mold.
Now, Jose knows that it is a little hard to believe that the Yankees would buy into the charade, but if this election season has proven anything, it is that a lie repeated with conviction over, and over and over again can start to look like the truth to an awful lot of people.
The Sox should also organize a stunt or two to further confuse the issue. For instance, at the press conference the day before game 5, DLowe should take to the podium in full Curt Euro regalia, possibly with Curt’s wife and children, and declare “I am not Derek Lowe!” (Note: This should be done in the style of the late Owen Hart when he would declare over and over “I am not the Blue Blazer.” Then, while Lowe/Curt is speaking, a DLowe look alike, let’s say, Data from Star Trek, Optimus Prime or an Erector Set, would walk buy in a Lowe Jersey. Faced with this striking evidence, the Yankees would have no choice but to believe that the fearsome Curt Euro was on the mound, and act as though he really was, in other words, with fear and anguish.
2. According to the Boston Globe, the chalkboard in the Red Sox clubhouse (Note: Is this the last place in America using chalk boards rather than white boards?) reads “We can change history. Believe it.”
You know what that means? Sure you do. It means that the Red Sox have gotten a hold of the way back machine and will be taking the rivalry into the time stream. After all, if it meant they were just dealing with this series, it would say “We can change the future.” Right now, Dave Roberts is in 1978 kneecapping Bucky Dent. Over in 1999, Pokey Reese has Tim Tschisa locked in a closet. And in 2003, Kevin Millar has Grady Little in a crippler cross face.
But it doesn’t stop there. Gabe Kapler is in Munich 1933 preparing to take out Hitler. Bill Mueller is keeping guard at Ford’s Theater in 1865. In 1912, Alan Embree is slowing the Titanic.
Okay, maybe, there is no way back machine (Note: And if there is would John Wasdin be suing the makers for trademark infringement?), but the Red Sox would do well to remember the wisdom of St. Augustine. The past does not exist, it only used to exist. There is no game 1 or 2. There is no Grady Little. There is no what you had for breakfast this morning. The future does not exist either, it only will exist. There is no game 4. There is no Ortiz’s game 5 walk off. There is no game 6 come back.
No, there is only the present, and the present has no breadth. It exists, but only in that it tends towards immediately not existing. And that is where Jose lives, and that is where the Boston Red Sox live. And regardless of religion, we join together in worshiping at the Temple of Right F’n Now.
3. As we all know, Fox nitwit Tim McCarver, thinks that Brandon Arroyo is starting for the Sox. Many have attributed McCarver’s error to genuine incompetence, but Jose has an alternative explanation. Jose looked at the TVLand listings and discovered that the Perfect Strangers marathon originally scheduled for Tuesday afternoon was replaced with a Punky Brewster marathon. Jose figures McCarver spent the whole afternoon watching the adventure of the plucky orphan, her curmudgeonly guardian Henry and her loveable dog Brandon and thus had Brandon on the mind when he went to the game. Now, Jose wants to make it clear that he is not apologizing for McCarver’s error. Frankly, Jose finds the idea that a man in his 60s would spend the whole day watching Punky Brewster, even more disturbing than the idea that Fox would have the worst announcer of this or any other generation calling the ALCS.
Today, CSPAN is running a marathon of presidential debates so look for McCarver to speak quite a bit about Richard Nixon’s play in right field. Alternatively, if he was one of the 15 people watching CNBC last night, he could end up talking about Dennis Miller’s play at third base.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. So what did Jose did with his off day? Let’s see, he started it by having a car breakdown on Newbury St. Ironically, Jose’s problem was the same as the Red Sox’s – broken starter – though Jose is certain that the Red Sox would gladly pay the $421 Jose did to get the starter repaired the same day. (Note: Mr. Henry, the Fenway Mobil station on the corner of Yawkey and Boylston does a great job repairing starters. Now sending Curt there might not work because he is, you know, human, but sending DLowe there for a tune up might not be a bad idea.) So when Jose broke down he did the same thing as any American, he called AAA. The only problem is that Jose is not technically a AAA member because he does not technically “own a car.” (Note: Jose was using his father’s car since his father is currently working in a small European non-country.)
The good people at AAA said “Well, unless your father is there, there’s nothing we can do for you. You’re not covered.” Jose thanked the nice lady and hung up. After a moment he picked up and dialed AAA again.
“Hi this is Richard Melendez and Richard needs a tow.” Jose said.
Instantly, and without question the customer service representative went right down the service check list and proceeded to treat Jose Melendez exactly like he was Richard Melendez. As you might imagine, Jose is gradually working towards a point here. Even if Curt Euro is unable to pitch game 5, the Red Sox should change their stated position and announce that he will pitch. Then, come game day, they should send out DLowe the Paranoid Android (newly tuned up) in a Curt Euro uniform and refuse to admit that it is DLowe no matter what. Theoretically, they could even remove DLowe’s face plate and replace it with some sort of Curt Euro mold.
Now, Jose knows that it is a little hard to believe that the Yankees would buy into the charade, but if this election season has proven anything, it is that a lie repeated with conviction over, and over and over again can start to look like the truth to an awful lot of people.
The Sox should also organize a stunt or two to further confuse the issue. For instance, at the press conference the day before game 5, DLowe should take to the podium in full Curt Euro regalia, possibly with Curt’s wife and children, and declare “I am not Derek Lowe!” (Note: This should be done in the style of the late Owen Hart when he would declare over and over “I am not the Blue Blazer.” Then, while Lowe/Curt is speaking, a DLowe look alike, let’s say, Data from Star Trek, Optimus Prime or an Erector Set, would walk buy in a Lowe Jersey. Faced with this striking evidence, the Yankees would have no choice but to believe that the fearsome Curt Euro was on the mound, and act as though he really was, in other words, with fear and anguish.
2. According to the Boston Globe, the chalkboard in the Red Sox clubhouse (Note: Is this the last place in America using chalk boards rather than white boards?) reads “We can change history. Believe it.”
You know what that means? Sure you do. It means that the Red Sox have gotten a hold of the way back machine and will be taking the rivalry into the time stream. After all, if it meant they were just dealing with this series, it would say “We can change the future.” Right now, Dave Roberts is in 1978 kneecapping Bucky Dent. Over in 1999, Pokey Reese has Tim Tschisa locked in a closet. And in 2003, Kevin Millar has Grady Little in a crippler cross face.
But it doesn’t stop there. Gabe Kapler is in Munich 1933 preparing to take out Hitler. Bill Mueller is keeping guard at Ford’s Theater in 1865. In 1912, Alan Embree is slowing the Titanic.
Okay, maybe, there is no way back machine (Note: And if there is would John Wasdin be suing the makers for trademark infringement?), but the Red Sox would do well to remember the wisdom of St. Augustine. The past does not exist, it only used to exist. There is no game 1 or 2. There is no Grady Little. There is no what you had for breakfast this morning. The future does not exist either, it only will exist. There is no game 4. There is no Ortiz’s game 5 walk off. There is no game 6 come back.
No, there is only the present, and the present has no breadth. It exists, but only in that it tends towards immediately not existing. And that is where Jose lives, and that is where the Boston Red Sox live. And regardless of religion, we join together in worshiping at the Temple of Right F’n Now.
3. As we all know, Fox nitwit Tim McCarver, thinks that Brandon Arroyo is starting for the Sox. Many have attributed McCarver’s error to genuine incompetence, but Jose has an alternative explanation. Jose looked at the TVLand listings and discovered that the Perfect Strangers marathon originally scheduled for Tuesday afternoon was replaced with a Punky Brewster marathon. Jose figures McCarver spent the whole afternoon watching the adventure of the plucky orphan, her curmudgeonly guardian Henry and her loveable dog Brandon and thus had Brandon on the mind when he went to the game. Now, Jose wants to make it clear that he is not apologizing for McCarver’s error. Frankly, Jose finds the idea that a man in his 60s would spend the whole day watching Punky Brewster, even more disturbing than the idea that Fox would have the worst announcer of this or any other generation calling the ALCS.
Today, CSPAN is running a marathon of presidential debates so look for McCarver to speak quite a bit about Richard Nixon’s play in right field. Alternatively, if he was one of the 15 people watching CNBC last night, he could end up talking about Dennis Miller’s play at third base.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Wednesday, October 13
From SoSH: Re: Game 2 Sox-Yanks -- Why Not Me?
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
Jose has made a mistake. In all of the drama of the post season, Jose got a little heavy. He got a little anecdotal. He got away from all of the things that worked so well in the regular season (Note: Cheap shots at reporters, stupid nicknames, monetary conversion). When Jose switched to grandiose rhetoric it was as if Terry Eurona had taken the idiotic suggestion on ESPN this morning (from Karl Ravitch?) and decided to DH Manischewitz Ramirez. (Note: Jose has been meaning to push this nickname for some time. Why Manishewitz? Because he’s SWEET!!!)
Did the Red Sox get to where they are by starting Mientkiewiecz at first and Dave Roberts in right? No. Did they get where they are with Jose, discoursing at great length on the nature of good and evil and engaging in long diatribes about games he went to in 1987? Occasionally? Oh. Well, nevertheless it’s back to basics.
1. According to today’s Globe, the Red Sox used seven scouts to prepare for this series. Jose has scouted the Yankees some as well, with his crack team of zero scouts, and has learned a few things that we should consider as we head into game 2.
Miguel Cairo – Not an Egyptian
Orlando Hernandez – Not from Orlando
Gary Sheffield – Not from Sheffield, England
Hideki Matusi – Get this. He’s…ready for it…Japanese. Who knew? Jose had no idea that Cro-Magnon man identified by nationality. (Note: All credit to Jose’s friend Marian who one day asked, “Who is that Cro-Magnon guy?”)
Tom “Flash” Gordon – Has never been in outer space. Nor is he really, really fast.
Tony Clark – Was once a member of Tony Toni Tone. (Note: Ironically, he was Toni, not Tony.)
Bernie Williams – Is the owner of Bernie and Phil’s Furniture, so don’t look for him to have much success against Tim Wakefield. (Note: Bernie Williams your classical guitar proficiency will not save you now.)
Mike Mussina – Despite his nickname “Moose” he is technically a member of the raccoon family.
Mariano Rivera – While he claims to be from Panama, Panama is actually only the place where he is registered as a ship.
Tanyon Sturze – His name is Tanyon, no joke needed.
Jon Lieber – Do you know why a bathroom is called a “Jon” or “John?” Because tonight the Red Sox are going to crap all over this guy.
2. The Tony Castrati translator returns
What TC says: “He had nothing, from the very first pitch”
What TC means: He had nothing because he has been spending way too much time staring game threads on Internet discussion boards. Doesn’t he know that it’s the mainstream press that makes him a celebrity? He should start writing leads for my column instead. Then I wouldn’t have to work as much. Also, I could really use the help.
What TC says: “Is he hurt? You bet he is.”
What TC means: I have learned from watching Donald Rumsfeld press conferences that I can use rhetorical questions to make other people seem stupid and uniformed. (Note: Is this stealing a Doonesbury Joke? Heavens yes. Would Jose do it again? You bet.)
What TC says: “Be honest with yourselves, Red Sox followers.”
What TC means: You can’t do it can you? I am the only person in this entire town who can tell the truth. Grady was right! Schilling (sic) is done! War is Peace! Coke and Pepsi are the same thing!!!
What TC says: “Schilling looks cooked.”
What TC means: After the game last night I watched that Twilight Zone episode with “To Serve Man” in it. Creepy.
What TC says: “Schilling will likely continue to look less like Roger Clemens and more like John Wasdin.”
What TC means: Oh wait. Didn’t he look like Roger Clemens in the post season last night? You know, awful. Or did I mean that he won’t get ejected from a huge playoff game?
What TC says: “If Schilling is now the injured Pedro Martinez of 2001, Martinez must become the Schilling of that same year.”
What TC means: How do they do it in those body switch movies like Freaky Friday, Vice Versa or Like Father Like Son? We need to do that with Schilling and Pedro. Shouldn’t someone be scouting those films? Maybe Big too.
What TC says: “Both Sox manager Terry Francona and Schilling declined to address Schilling's availability for the balance of the series, which can't be good. “
What TC means: How dare they spurn the mainstream press. HOW DARE THEY!!!
What TC says: “Last night, at least, Schilling never had a chance. While Mike Mussina carved up the Red Sox”
What TC means: I wrote this at the end of the sixth inning, so I will assume the final score was 8-0.
What TC says: “For now, the Red Sox have enough to worry about than to risk 2005, too.”
What TC means: Concede now!!! What hope do you have against the might Jon Lieber, Kevin Brown and Javier Vasquez!!!” Also, I cannot write a grammatically correct sentence, and my editors did not catch any errors because they were too busy working on a story about Brittney Spears’ pending divorce and remarriage to an Inuit.
3. So that’s the Herald’s take. Now let’s read between the lines of Dan Shaughnessy’s latest.
Curt Schilling…needs no…funeral…He …still…puts…the Red Sox…in games.” See. Don’t lose hope even Shaughnessy is optimistic.
“The only thing…to fuel New York taunters and tabloids…is Bernie Williams…who…shot …Joe Torre.” Wow. That is going to be all over the tabloids. And Jose thought there were problems between Phil Jackson and Kobe Bryant.
“Mike Mussina’s…daddy…is…no doubt embarrassing…and…a…pain.” Well, we all have our family issues.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Jose has made a mistake. In all of the drama of the post season, Jose got a little heavy. He got a little anecdotal. He got away from all of the things that worked so well in the regular season (Note: Cheap shots at reporters, stupid nicknames, monetary conversion). When Jose switched to grandiose rhetoric it was as if Terry Eurona had taken the idiotic suggestion on ESPN this morning (from Karl Ravitch?) and decided to DH Manischewitz Ramirez. (Note: Jose has been meaning to push this nickname for some time. Why Manishewitz? Because he’s SWEET!!!)
Did the Red Sox get to where they are by starting Mientkiewiecz at first and Dave Roberts in right? No. Did they get where they are with Jose, discoursing at great length on the nature of good and evil and engaging in long diatribes about games he went to in 1987? Occasionally? Oh. Well, nevertheless it’s back to basics.
1. According to today’s Globe, the Red Sox used seven scouts to prepare for this series. Jose has scouted the Yankees some as well, with his crack team of zero scouts, and has learned a few things that we should consider as we head into game 2.
Miguel Cairo – Not an Egyptian
Orlando Hernandez – Not from Orlando
Gary Sheffield – Not from Sheffield, England
Hideki Matusi – Get this. He’s…ready for it…Japanese. Who knew? Jose had no idea that Cro-Magnon man identified by nationality. (Note: All credit to Jose’s friend Marian who one day asked, “Who is that Cro-Magnon guy?”)
Tom “Flash” Gordon – Has never been in outer space. Nor is he really, really fast.
Tony Clark – Was once a member of Tony Toni Tone. (Note: Ironically, he was Toni, not Tony.)
Bernie Williams – Is the owner of Bernie and Phil’s Furniture, so don’t look for him to have much success against Tim Wakefield. (Note: Bernie Williams your classical guitar proficiency will not save you now.)
Mike Mussina – Despite his nickname “Moose” he is technically a member of the raccoon family.
Mariano Rivera – While he claims to be from Panama, Panama is actually only the place where he is registered as a ship.
Tanyon Sturze – His name is Tanyon, no joke needed.
Jon Lieber – Do you know why a bathroom is called a “Jon” or “John?” Because tonight the Red Sox are going to crap all over this guy.
2. The Tony Castrati translator returns
What TC says: “He had nothing, from the very first pitch”
What TC means: He had nothing because he has been spending way too much time staring game threads on Internet discussion boards. Doesn’t he know that it’s the mainstream press that makes him a celebrity? He should start writing leads for my column instead. Then I wouldn’t have to work as much. Also, I could really use the help.
What TC says: “Is he hurt? You bet he is.”
What TC means: I have learned from watching Donald Rumsfeld press conferences that I can use rhetorical questions to make other people seem stupid and uniformed. (Note: Is this stealing a Doonesbury Joke? Heavens yes. Would Jose do it again? You bet.)
What TC says: “Be honest with yourselves, Red Sox followers.”
What TC means: You can’t do it can you? I am the only person in this entire town who can tell the truth. Grady was right! Schilling (sic) is done! War is Peace! Coke and Pepsi are the same thing!!!
What TC says: “Schilling looks cooked.”
What TC means: After the game last night I watched that Twilight Zone episode with “To Serve Man” in it. Creepy.
What TC says: “Schilling will likely continue to look less like Roger Clemens and more like John Wasdin.”
What TC means: Oh wait. Didn’t he look like Roger Clemens in the post season last night? You know, awful. Or did I mean that he won’t get ejected from a huge playoff game?
What TC says: “If Schilling is now the injured Pedro Martinez of 2001, Martinez must become the Schilling of that same year.”
What TC means: How do they do it in those body switch movies like Freaky Friday, Vice Versa or Like Father Like Son? We need to do that with Schilling and Pedro. Shouldn’t someone be scouting those films? Maybe Big too.
What TC says: “Both Sox manager Terry Francona and Schilling declined to address Schilling's availability for the balance of the series, which can't be good. “
What TC means: How dare they spurn the mainstream press. HOW DARE THEY!!!
What TC says: “Last night, at least, Schilling never had a chance. While Mike Mussina carved up the Red Sox”
What TC means: I wrote this at the end of the sixth inning, so I will assume the final score was 8-0.
What TC says: “For now, the Red Sox have enough to worry about than to risk 2005, too.”
What TC means: Concede now!!! What hope do you have against the might Jon Lieber, Kevin Brown and Javier Vasquez!!!” Also, I cannot write a grammatically correct sentence, and my editors did not catch any errors because they were too busy working on a story about Brittney Spears’ pending divorce and remarriage to an Inuit.
3. So that’s the Herald’s take. Now let’s read between the lines of Dan Shaughnessy’s latest.
Curt Schilling…needs no…funeral…He …still…puts…the Red Sox…in games.” See. Don’t lose hope even Shaughnessy is optimistic.
“The only thing…to fuel New York taunters and tabloids…is Bernie Williams…who…shot …Joe Torre.” Wow. That is going to be all over the tabloids. And Jose thought there were problems between Phil Jackson and Kobe Bryant.
“Mike Mussina’s…daddy…is…no doubt embarrassing…and…a…pain.” Well, we all have our family issues.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Tuesday, October 12
From SoSH: Re: 10/11/11 Game Four of the Real Season
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
Jose returns to the KEYS on an almost unprecedented three days rest. No side sessions, no work with a typing program, nothing. In fact, the only work Jose has gotten in since the Sox clinched in game 3 was a little work on an application for a fellowship. So Jose is fresh, well-rested and lined up for the hard slog ahead.
1. And now comes the end of days. The cataclysmic battle between good and evil that has been forecasted, projected and prophesied since the darkest days of last October and perhaps since the dawn of man is at last upon us. What is the universe? What is the nature of good and evil, light and darkness, crunchy and smooth? Seek not the answer in the Bible, nor the Torah. The Koran offers not the solution nor the Bhagavad Gita. Look not in Science and Health nor even Dianetics. On this very day, in the heart of New York City, we will all bear witness. We will witness the ultimate proof that this universe of ours is Manichaen. That there is only good and only evil and they are locked in never ending combat.
Whose side are you on? Whose side are you on? There are no grays, there is no nuance. Whose side are you on? There is nothing to finesse, no fences to straddle. Whose side are you on? There can be no changes of heart, no defections or conversions. Whose side are you on? You are with us or you are against us.
Chris Rattey be warned this is not Darth Vader vs. Luke Skywalker. Even the light and dark sides of the force are too weak an analogy for the struggle before us. After all, Darth Vader still had good in him. He was salvaged, his soul recovered. When his black mask of death was removed, the sad face of a frail and vulnerable human being was revealed. We pitied him. When this series is over will you pity Derek Jeter? Will you pity A-Rod? Oh, the Yankees are frail and vulnerable, that we shall see, but there will be no tears shed, no spiritual reunion with Yoda and Obi-Wan. No, the Evil Empire is not stark enough.
This is Billy Budd territory. The Yankees are the evil and sinister Mr. Claggart, devious, cruel and manipulative. The Red Sox are Billy Budd the earnest young sailor working under Claggart’s cruel hand. And how does Melville’s novella end? In the end each man lies dead, but even in death one is still good and one is still evil, and the vacillating Captain Vere is left standing. But here there are no Captain Veres. There is no middle. Whose side are you on?
At eight hours and fifteen minutes it begins. Whose side are you on?
(Note: Jose hasn’t actually read Billy Budd in about 14 years, and he sure as hell isn’t going to reread it now. So in the event that that Jose had the plot and metaphors wrong, let’s pretend that entire piece was pegged to Melville’s Bartleby the Scrivener and his epic line "I prefer not to," as in "I prefer not to even talk to any Yankee fans until this series is over." Not that Jose could ever use that line since it has a first person singular pronoun in it.)
2. Well, after a KEY focused on cataclysm and Armageddon, Jose always finds it’s good to lighten the mood. So here goes. One reporter asked Curt Euro about "mystique and aura" or some such nonsense at yesterday’s press conference. You know what? As they say in ads for securities "past performance does not predict future results." And unless "mystique" is that blue chick from the X-Men and she’s wearing pin stripes, mystique don’t mean a damn thing.
Jose will not repeat a T-Shirt that suggests the Yankees take their title rings in suppository form, but he agrees with the sentiment. Jose worships at the temple of right f’n now, and as much as Jose loves history, he knows it is not deterministic. Eighty six year means nothing. NOTHING!!! The Mongols routed the west for centuries, but are you reading Genghis Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME? The Romans dominated the known world for hundreds and hundreds of years, but the upstart Goths eventually took them down. Do the British still rule India? Do they speak German in Cameroon? Did Andre the Giant lose a match after 22 undefeated years? (Note: Yes, Jose knows that streak is B.S.)
So please Yankees, rely on ghosts and fairies and unicorns and long dead sluggers. Depend on your vaunted history to protect you. After all, it worked for the Soviet Union. Didn’t it?
3. Jose thinks it is just a shame that the Red Sox spent all of this money making up brand new “Why Not Us?” T-Shirts. They could have saved a bundle by simply recycling the shirts worn by Les Expos in 2000 that read “Why not us? Why not now?” or even better “Pourquoi pas nous ? Pourquoi pas maintenant?” (Note: Or something like that. Jose doesn’t remember the French exactly, so he had to use Babelfish.)
Jose actually bought one of these French language shirts on his sole pilgrimage to Le Stade Olympique. He only wishes he still had it so he could wear it around this week and show he is down with the hip new rallying cry.
If we get through the ALCS Jose has a suggestion for a rallying cry for the next round. How about “We don’t want to fight, or start any trouble. We just wanna do the Super Bowl shuffle?”
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Jose returns to the KEYS on an almost unprecedented three days rest. No side sessions, no work with a typing program, nothing. In fact, the only work Jose has gotten in since the Sox clinched in game 3 was a little work on an application for a fellowship. So Jose is fresh, well-rested and lined up for the hard slog ahead.
1. And now comes the end of days. The cataclysmic battle between good and evil that has been forecasted, projected and prophesied since the darkest days of last October and perhaps since the dawn of man is at last upon us. What is the universe? What is the nature of good and evil, light and darkness, crunchy and smooth? Seek not the answer in the Bible, nor the Torah. The Koran offers not the solution nor the Bhagavad Gita. Look not in Science and Health nor even Dianetics. On this very day, in the heart of New York City, we will all bear witness. We will witness the ultimate proof that this universe of ours is Manichaen. That there is only good and only evil and they are locked in never ending combat.
Whose side are you on? Whose side are you on? There are no grays, there is no nuance. Whose side are you on? There is nothing to finesse, no fences to straddle. Whose side are you on? There can be no changes of heart, no defections or conversions. Whose side are you on? You are with us or you are against us.
Chris Rattey be warned this is not Darth Vader vs. Luke Skywalker. Even the light and dark sides of the force are too weak an analogy for the struggle before us. After all, Darth Vader still had good in him. He was salvaged, his soul recovered. When his black mask of death was removed, the sad face of a frail and vulnerable human being was revealed. We pitied him. When this series is over will you pity Derek Jeter? Will you pity A-Rod? Oh, the Yankees are frail and vulnerable, that we shall see, but there will be no tears shed, no spiritual reunion with Yoda and Obi-Wan. No, the Evil Empire is not stark enough.
This is Billy Budd territory. The Yankees are the evil and sinister Mr. Claggart, devious, cruel and manipulative. The Red Sox are Billy Budd the earnest young sailor working under Claggart’s cruel hand. And how does Melville’s novella end? In the end each man lies dead, but even in death one is still good and one is still evil, and the vacillating Captain Vere is left standing. But here there are no Captain Veres. There is no middle. Whose side are you on?
At eight hours and fifteen minutes it begins. Whose side are you on?
(Note: Jose hasn’t actually read Billy Budd in about 14 years, and he sure as hell isn’t going to reread it now. So in the event that that Jose had the plot and metaphors wrong, let’s pretend that entire piece was pegged to Melville’s Bartleby the Scrivener and his epic line "I prefer not to," as in "I prefer not to even talk to any Yankee fans until this series is over." Not that Jose could ever use that line since it has a first person singular pronoun in it.)
2. Well, after a KEY focused on cataclysm and Armageddon, Jose always finds it’s good to lighten the mood. So here goes. One reporter asked Curt Euro about "mystique and aura" or some such nonsense at yesterday’s press conference. You know what? As they say in ads for securities "past performance does not predict future results." And unless "mystique" is that blue chick from the X-Men and she’s wearing pin stripes, mystique don’t mean a damn thing.
Jose will not repeat a T-Shirt that suggests the Yankees take their title rings in suppository form, but he agrees with the sentiment. Jose worships at the temple of right f’n now, and as much as Jose loves history, he knows it is not deterministic. Eighty six year means nothing. NOTHING!!! The Mongols routed the west for centuries, but are you reading Genghis Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME? The Romans dominated the known world for hundreds and hundreds of years, but the upstart Goths eventually took them down. Do the British still rule India? Do they speak German in Cameroon? Did Andre the Giant lose a match after 22 undefeated years? (Note: Yes, Jose knows that streak is B.S.)
So please Yankees, rely on ghosts and fairies and unicorns and long dead sluggers. Depend on your vaunted history to protect you. After all, it worked for the Soviet Union. Didn’t it?
3. Jose thinks it is just a shame that the Red Sox spent all of this money making up brand new “Why Not Us?” T-Shirts. They could have saved a bundle by simply recycling the shirts worn by Les Expos in 2000 that read “Why not us? Why not now?” or even better “Pourquoi pas nous ? Pourquoi pas maintenant?” (Note: Or something like that. Jose doesn’t remember the French exactly, so he had to use Babelfish.)
Jose actually bought one of these French language shirts on his sole pilgrimage to Le Stade Olympique. He only wishes he still had it so he could wear it around this week and show he is down with the hip new rallying cry.
If we get through the ALCS Jose has a suggestion for a rallying cry for the next round. How about “We don’t want to fight, or start any trouble. We just wanna do the Super Bowl shuffle?”
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Friday, October 8
From SoSH: Re: 10/07/07 Game Three of the Real Season
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Boston, 1999 -- Jose held two tickets each for game 3 and game 4 of the division series. The extra ticket in game 3 went to Jose’s then girlfriend and the extra ticket for game 4 was reserved for Jose’s brother Sam Melendez. After the Indians destroyed Bret Saberhagen in Game 2 and it was revealed that a certain shortstop who was the only bat on the 1999 squad would not play game 3, Jose’s father, who knows nothing about sports, turned to him and said “You’re a helluva guy, giving your brother a ticket for a game that will never happen.”
But it did happen, and a certain rotund pitcher with a tendency to cough up playoff games imploded as the Sox scored 24 runs and went on take the series in five.
Boston, 2004 – Jose holds no game three ticket, but thanks to a kind invitation from lushess255, one of JOSE’S PEOPLE, he does have a ticket for game 4. But there’s one problem. You know it, Jose knows it, lushess255 knows it, the scalpers on Brookline Ave. know it , the barkeeps at Copperfields know it, the Sausage Guy knows it, the rats by the muddy river know it, the Standells know it, the Red Sox know it, and yes, even the Anaheim Angles know it. There ain’t gonna be no game 4. And Jose smiles. His game 4 ticket will become as valuable as a ticket to the Goldwater inauguration, the Clash reunion tour or the Dwight Evans hall of fame induction. It will be only a reminder of what need not be and never was. Yes, for the first time in his life, Jose Melendez is looking forward to not going to a game.
2. Shortly after the season ends on October 31, Jose is planning on putting out a collection of the 2004 KEYS for folks who want to have, in one handsome volume, what they can get out the internet for free and sell it on Jose's Cafepress site.
Needless to say Jose is looking for titles, it will probably end up being Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME 2004, but this morning Jose had a really good idea. In keeping with the idiocy theme that Johnny Damon articulated so well, Jose thought that perhaps the best title would be “The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Winning the World Series.” Jose knows there are some “intellectual property issues,” which is ironic given that we’re talking about a series of books with the word Idiot in the title, but you never know what will pass muster.
(Completely unrelated and irrelevant note: Jose has heard that Major League Baseball is leaning towards naming the new Washington team the Grays in tribute to the great Negro League team. Jose thinks this is a rare terrific idea from the League. However, he is a little disappointed that the Washington Senators who failed so miserably twice in the past will not be resurrected. Here is Jose’s compromise: Les Expos become the Washington Grays and the Seattle Mariners, without moving, are renamed the Washington Senators.)
3. The Boston Herald (Slogan: Boston’s fifth most credible newspaper!) (Note: Jose may be stealing the slogan bit from Dave Barry, he can't remember) ran the headline “GO YANKS!” this morning after pulling their initial banner headline “PORN STARS IN HUB BARS?” when it was determined that what sources claimed that was Jenna Jameson outside the Rack last night was actually a Haymarket fruit stand selling cantaloupes. Jose didn’t actually read the story by Gerry Callahan as it is not available for free on the Web and the only way Jose is ever going to pay for the Herald is if it comes with a complementary dollar bill inside. But still, Jose is appalled. If you would like to beat the Yankees on the way to the series, that is fine. Jose understands that, Jose feels that way too. But to actually root for the Yankees is unforgivable. If you must do something root for the Twins to lose, not for the Yankees to win. (Note: Yes they are the same thing, but semantics matter.) And to actually use this as the front page headline on a day when THE RED SOX ARE PLAYING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?????????????? Unforgivable. How about GO SOX for a headline? What about SOX BRING BROOMS? What about ANYHTING OTHER THAN GO YANKS!!!!!
Look, Herald headline writers. Clearly you are not great at this, so Jose will do you a favor and write tomorrow’s headline in advance. Here goes.
(Sidebar: “Dance of Joy” claims 40 lives.)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Boston, 1999 -- Jose held two tickets each for game 3 and game 4 of the division series. The extra ticket in game 3 went to Jose’s then girlfriend and the extra ticket for game 4 was reserved for Jose’s brother Sam Melendez. After the Indians destroyed Bret Saberhagen in Game 2 and it was revealed that a certain shortstop who was the only bat on the 1999 squad would not play game 3, Jose’s father, who knows nothing about sports, turned to him and said “You’re a helluva guy, giving your brother a ticket for a game that will never happen.”
But it did happen, and a certain rotund pitcher with a tendency to cough up playoff games imploded as the Sox scored 24 runs and went on take the series in five.
Boston, 2004 – Jose holds no game three ticket, but thanks to a kind invitation from lushess255, one of JOSE’S PEOPLE, he does have a ticket for game 4. But there’s one problem. You know it, Jose knows it, lushess255 knows it, the scalpers on Brookline Ave. know it , the barkeeps at Copperfields know it, the Sausage Guy knows it, the rats by the muddy river know it, the Standells know it, the Red Sox know it, and yes, even the Anaheim Angles know it. There ain’t gonna be no game 4. And Jose smiles. His game 4 ticket will become as valuable as a ticket to the Goldwater inauguration, the Clash reunion tour or the Dwight Evans hall of fame induction. It will be only a reminder of what need not be and never was. Yes, for the first time in his life, Jose Melendez is looking forward to not going to a game.
2. Shortly after the season ends on October 31, Jose is planning on putting out a collection of the 2004 KEYS for folks who want to have, in one handsome volume, what they can get out the internet for free and sell it on Jose's Cafepress site.
Needless to say Jose is looking for titles, it will probably end up being Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME 2004, but this morning Jose had a really good idea. In keeping with the idiocy theme that Johnny Damon articulated so well, Jose thought that perhaps the best title would be “The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Winning the World Series.” Jose knows there are some “intellectual property issues,” which is ironic given that we’re talking about a series of books with the word Idiot in the title, but you never know what will pass muster.
(Completely unrelated and irrelevant note: Jose has heard that Major League Baseball is leaning towards naming the new Washington team the Grays in tribute to the great Negro League team. Jose thinks this is a rare terrific idea from the League. However, he is a little disappointed that the Washington Senators who failed so miserably twice in the past will not be resurrected. Here is Jose’s compromise: Les Expos become the Washington Grays and the Seattle Mariners, without moving, are renamed the Washington Senators.)
3. The Boston Herald (Slogan: Boston’s fifth most credible newspaper!) (Note: Jose may be stealing the slogan bit from Dave Barry, he can't remember) ran the headline “GO YANKS!” this morning after pulling their initial banner headline “PORN STARS IN HUB BARS?” when it was determined that what sources claimed that was Jenna Jameson outside the Rack last night was actually a Haymarket fruit stand selling cantaloupes. Jose didn’t actually read the story by Gerry Callahan as it is not available for free on the Web and the only way Jose is ever going to pay for the Herald is if it comes with a complementary dollar bill inside. But still, Jose is appalled. If you would like to beat the Yankees on the way to the series, that is fine. Jose understands that, Jose feels that way too. But to actually root for the Yankees is unforgivable. If you must do something root for the Twins to lose, not for the Yankees to win. (Note: Yes they are the same thing, but semantics matter.) And to actually use this as the front page headline on a day when THE RED SOX ARE PLAYING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?????????????? Unforgivable. How about GO SOX for a headline? What about SOX BRING BROOMS? What about ANYHTING OTHER THAN GO YANKS!!!!!
Look, Herald headline writers. Clearly you are not great at this, so Jose will do you a favor and write tomorrow’s headline in advance. Here goes.
MEPOS RIOTS OVER
BALKI’S WIN
(Sidebar: “Dance of Joy” claims 40 lives.)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Wednesday, October 6
From SoSH: Re: 10/05/05 Game Two of the Real Season
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Well this is quite a bit better than last year at this time. Actually, last year Jose was one of the lucky ones. While the rest of you were struggling through 12 or 13 (Note: See Jose doesn’t even remember) gut wrenching innings before a crushing end at 3 AM, Jose was wandering the streets of Antwerp blissfully unaware of the tragedy that had unfolded. While you cried and wailed and battled the horrors of sleep deprivation, Jose sipped café au lait and nibbled on hot Belgian waffles glistening with butter and dusted in confectioner’s sugar as white as Larry Bird in January and as pure as AC Green at the age of 43.
Of course, Jose would have given anything to be one of you, crying in his last beer of the night/ first beer of the morning, but Jose had cleverly scheduled a 16 day European Odyssey for a period that included most of the first round of the playoffs. There Jose was, by himself in one of Europe’s great historical cities, a center of art culture and the despicable world wide diamond trade, and all he could think of was the outcome of a baseball game 8,000 miles away. Each hour that passed gnawed at him. Jose would set up little milestones he needed to pass, lest his box score lust overwhelm the charms of the continent.
“Just one more guild hall and then Jose will find an Internet café,” he would promise himself. “Just one more Cathedral. Just one more museum.” But like his hunger for Belgian Mussels, Jose’s hunger for a score could not be sated by anything but the genuine article. Jose found an Internet Café on a side street and entered cautiously, knowing that what he was about to learn would shape his disposition for the rest of the day. He plunked down his two Euros (Note: which equaled about $35 at the time) and sat down at the terminal. Which site to enter? MLB.com? ESPN.com? Boston.com. Yeeessssss. The score scrolled across the screen…it scrolled across Jose’s eyes, scrolled through his optical nerve into his brain and then scrolled down his spine and settled in his gut. And there it sat. Sat like a swallowed bowling ball, heavy, indigestible, an inexplicable, crushing weight at the center of Jose’s very being.
Did Jose read a description of the game? He imagines so, but does not remember. All he remembers is staggering through the once friendly streets of Antwerp, suddenly aware that everything looked gloomy and sad. Had it been raining all day? Jose saw the sights and walked the walks, but he was unable to escape the singular thought that was lodged in his brain, repeating over and over like George W. Bush at a debate and relentlessly on message, “F’n Red Sox. F’n Red Sox. F’n Red Sox. F’n Red Sox. F’n Red Sox.”
The next day saw Jose visited Aachen, Germany, the ancient capital of Charlemagne’s Frankish empire, a city that holds what it claims are segments of the true cross, alleged burrs from the crown of thorns and reliquaries containing what are almost certainly parts of Charlemagne’s corpse. But Jose will forever think of it as the place where he learned that the Red Sox had dropped game 2 to the Athletics. The story of this day is too similar for Jose to repeat it in great detail. Jose will only note that a very good doener kebab, does more than anything else to heal the agony of defeat.
But we all know that the story did not end there. This is not a story of joy, or at least pride before the fall. The Sox rallied from their disastrous start and took the series. Jose learned of the game 3 win at a hostel in Belgium with the slowest Internet connection on Earth. The day before Jose’s departure (Note: Or was it the day of?) Jose sat in front of that damned screen for 45 minutes trying every Web site he could imagine, hoping that the computer would connect to just one for long enough for Jose to learn the outcome of game 3, to learn if there was anything on this Earth left to look forward to (Note: Aside from family, friends the Melendezette, Spideman 2 and Wrestlemania). In the 44th minute, one lonely sentence emerged from Boston.com “Nixon homer lifts Sox.” Victory. That was all Jose needed. The Red Sox lived.
But this presented Jose with a new challenge. His plane was scheduled to arrive in the middle of game 4. Provided the plane landed on time, a speedy navigation of customs would be essential to catching the final innings. The travel gods (Note: Many of whom are also weather gods)cooperated, and the flight arrived on schedule. As soon as the dreadful Air France crew allowed, Jose deplaned (Note: Deplaned is one of the funniest words. We really need a special word for this? Yet more evidence that the English Lexicon is too big and Newspeak was a great idea. Okay, not really.) and sprinted through the terminal like Johnny Damon smelling an infield hit or Derek Jeter smelling a chance to have his picture taken.
While Jose’s fellow tourists seemed taken aback by his aggressive running., the customs personal seemed to understand his mission. They knew there was a game on. Jose was spared the normal questions about whether he had done drugs abroad and was processed as quickly as possible. Even when Jose saw his psychotic former downstairs neighbor in the immigration line, he resisted the temptation to point out that she was a dangerous, crazy person who should probably be taken to Guantanamo Bay as a precaution. (Note: She used to throw pots around her apartment at all hours and would yell “Gigolo Ho!!!” as Jose came up the stairs. Jose always felt that the fact that women pay him for sexual favors is no reason to call him a gigolo. Actually, Jose strongly considered leaving the apartment for a week once and leaving his stereo blasting “Just a Gigolo.” That seemed a bit extreme though, so he just had her evicted.)
Jose’s father, who is not much of a sports fan, unexpectedly met Jose at the airport and whisked him to the Hilton where we watched the Sox come from behind and the Patriots defeat the Titans. Aside from the one Southern visitor who asked if the barkeep could change to the NASCAR race, it was perfect.
But what was the point of this Jose Melendez travelogue? Won’t you get all this in the KEYS TO BELGIUM? Well, yes, but the point is that this year we are all experiencing something sweeter than chocolate dipped waffles, more satisfying than mussels dipped in butter and more foreign than a Flemish speaking city – we are experiencing the Red Sox’s inevitable march towards history.
2. Jose’s favorite moment of Game 1 was, without a doubt, Doug Mientkiewiecz’s two out suicide squeeze to score an insurance run. Jose loved it because it was absolutely ruthless. In the world, as a general rule, Jose is opposed to ruthlessness. This is probably not a bold position, but Jose feels strongly that ruthlessness is bad in most areas of life. He does not respect it in politics, or business or social relationships. He regards it as mean and unnecessary and arrogant. He wouldn’t even see the Broadway show Ruthless, and he thought Ruthless People was a mediocre movie. However, in the context of playoff baseball, the equation is reversed and the offensive becomes the indispensable. You want Stalin running your baseball team, you want J. Edgar Hoover, hell you even want Dick Cheney. You want someone who does not care about propriety, who does not care about the rules of polite society and who is obsessed only with winning.
The funny thing is that the suicide squeeze suggested that Terry Eurona might just be a little ruthless. That’s right Timid Terry. If you had asked Jose yesterday morning to compare Terry to a President, Jose would have said Jimmy Carter, but now the answer is Richard Nixon. Jose half expects to hear that there was a third rate burglary of the Angles locker room this evening.
3. Jose has a major scoop. Did you know Curt Euro started today’s SoSH game thread? Yesterday’s too. That means that he is in a position to call Jose a liar and an idiot for what he is about to say. (Note: Though according to Johnny Damon, idiocy would make Jose fit right in with these Red Sox.) Jose thinks there was no ankle injury. Jose thinks that Curt knew his afternoon was near an end, so after a bad throw, he decided to pretend he had tweaked the ankle, not in order to get out of the game, but in order to get out of appearing on Jimmy Kimmel Live. There, Jose said it. In Jose’s opinion, Curt is holding out for that precious guest shot on Nightline.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Well this is quite a bit better than last year at this time. Actually, last year Jose was one of the lucky ones. While the rest of you were struggling through 12 or 13 (Note: See Jose doesn’t even remember) gut wrenching innings before a crushing end at 3 AM, Jose was wandering the streets of Antwerp blissfully unaware of the tragedy that had unfolded. While you cried and wailed and battled the horrors of sleep deprivation, Jose sipped café au lait and nibbled on hot Belgian waffles glistening with butter and dusted in confectioner’s sugar as white as Larry Bird in January and as pure as AC Green at the age of 43.
Of course, Jose would have given anything to be one of you, crying in his last beer of the night/ first beer of the morning, but Jose had cleverly scheduled a 16 day European Odyssey for a period that included most of the first round of the playoffs. There Jose was, by himself in one of Europe’s great historical cities, a center of art culture and the despicable world wide diamond trade, and all he could think of was the outcome of a baseball game 8,000 miles away. Each hour that passed gnawed at him. Jose would set up little milestones he needed to pass, lest his box score lust overwhelm the charms of the continent.
“Just one more guild hall and then Jose will find an Internet café,” he would promise himself. “Just one more Cathedral. Just one more museum.” But like his hunger for Belgian Mussels, Jose’s hunger for a score could not be sated by anything but the genuine article. Jose found an Internet Café on a side street and entered cautiously, knowing that what he was about to learn would shape his disposition for the rest of the day. He plunked down his two Euros (Note: which equaled about $35 at the time) and sat down at the terminal. Which site to enter? MLB.com? ESPN.com? Boston.com. Yeeessssss. The score scrolled across the screen…it scrolled across Jose’s eyes, scrolled through his optical nerve into his brain and then scrolled down his spine and settled in his gut. And there it sat. Sat like a swallowed bowling ball, heavy, indigestible, an inexplicable, crushing weight at the center of Jose’s very being.
Did Jose read a description of the game? He imagines so, but does not remember. All he remembers is staggering through the once friendly streets of Antwerp, suddenly aware that everything looked gloomy and sad. Had it been raining all day? Jose saw the sights and walked the walks, but he was unable to escape the singular thought that was lodged in his brain, repeating over and over like George W. Bush at a debate and relentlessly on message, “F’n Red Sox. F’n Red Sox. F’n Red Sox. F’n Red Sox. F’n Red Sox.”
The next day saw Jose visited Aachen, Germany, the ancient capital of Charlemagne’s Frankish empire, a city that holds what it claims are segments of the true cross, alleged burrs from the crown of thorns and reliquaries containing what are almost certainly parts of Charlemagne’s corpse. But Jose will forever think of it as the place where he learned that the Red Sox had dropped game 2 to the Athletics. The story of this day is too similar for Jose to repeat it in great detail. Jose will only note that a very good doener kebab, does more than anything else to heal the agony of defeat.
But we all know that the story did not end there. This is not a story of joy, or at least pride before the fall. The Sox rallied from their disastrous start and took the series. Jose learned of the game 3 win at a hostel in Belgium with the slowest Internet connection on Earth. The day before Jose’s departure (Note: Or was it the day of?) Jose sat in front of that damned screen for 45 minutes trying every Web site he could imagine, hoping that the computer would connect to just one for long enough for Jose to learn the outcome of game 3, to learn if there was anything on this Earth left to look forward to (Note: Aside from family, friends the Melendezette, Spideman 2 and Wrestlemania). In the 44th minute, one lonely sentence emerged from Boston.com “Nixon homer lifts Sox.” Victory. That was all Jose needed. The Red Sox lived.
But this presented Jose with a new challenge. His plane was scheduled to arrive in the middle of game 4. Provided the plane landed on time, a speedy navigation of customs would be essential to catching the final innings. The travel gods (Note: Many of whom are also weather gods)cooperated, and the flight arrived on schedule. As soon as the dreadful Air France crew allowed, Jose deplaned (Note: Deplaned is one of the funniest words. We really need a special word for this? Yet more evidence that the English Lexicon is too big and Newspeak was a great idea. Okay, not really.) and sprinted through the terminal like Johnny Damon smelling an infield hit or Derek Jeter smelling a chance to have his picture taken.
While Jose’s fellow tourists seemed taken aback by his aggressive running., the customs personal seemed to understand his mission. They knew there was a game on. Jose was spared the normal questions about whether he had done drugs abroad and was processed as quickly as possible. Even when Jose saw his psychotic former downstairs neighbor in the immigration line, he resisted the temptation to point out that she was a dangerous, crazy person who should probably be taken to Guantanamo Bay as a precaution. (Note: She used to throw pots around her apartment at all hours and would yell “Gigolo Ho!!!” as Jose came up the stairs. Jose always felt that the fact that women pay him for sexual favors is no reason to call him a gigolo. Actually, Jose strongly considered leaving the apartment for a week once and leaving his stereo blasting “Just a Gigolo.” That seemed a bit extreme though, so he just had her evicted.)
Jose’s father, who is not much of a sports fan, unexpectedly met Jose at the airport and whisked him to the Hilton where we watched the Sox come from behind and the Patriots defeat the Titans. Aside from the one Southern visitor who asked if the barkeep could change to the NASCAR race, it was perfect.
But what was the point of this Jose Melendez travelogue? Won’t you get all this in the KEYS TO BELGIUM? Well, yes, but the point is that this year we are all experiencing something sweeter than chocolate dipped waffles, more satisfying than mussels dipped in butter and more foreign than a Flemish speaking city – we are experiencing the Red Sox’s inevitable march towards history.
2. Jose’s favorite moment of Game 1 was, without a doubt, Doug Mientkiewiecz’s two out suicide squeeze to score an insurance run. Jose loved it because it was absolutely ruthless. In the world, as a general rule, Jose is opposed to ruthlessness. This is probably not a bold position, but Jose feels strongly that ruthlessness is bad in most areas of life. He does not respect it in politics, or business or social relationships. He regards it as mean and unnecessary and arrogant. He wouldn’t even see the Broadway show Ruthless, and he thought Ruthless People was a mediocre movie. However, in the context of playoff baseball, the equation is reversed and the offensive becomes the indispensable. You want Stalin running your baseball team, you want J. Edgar Hoover, hell you even want Dick Cheney. You want someone who does not care about propriety, who does not care about the rules of polite society and who is obsessed only with winning.
The funny thing is that the suicide squeeze suggested that Terry Eurona might just be a little ruthless. That’s right Timid Terry. If you had asked Jose yesterday morning to compare Terry to a President, Jose would have said Jimmy Carter, but now the answer is Richard Nixon. Jose half expects to hear that there was a third rate burglary of the Angles locker room this evening.
3. Jose has a major scoop. Did you know Curt Euro started today’s SoSH game thread? Yesterday’s too. That means that he is in a position to call Jose a liar and an idiot for what he is about to say. (Note: Though according to Johnny Damon, idiocy would make Jose fit right in with these Red Sox.) Jose thinks there was no ankle injury. Jose thinks that Curt knew his afternoon was near an end, so after a bad throw, he decided to pretend he had tweaked the ankle, not in order to get out of the game, but in order to get out of appearing on Jimmy Kimmel Live. There, Jose said it. In Jose’s opinion, Curt is holding out for that precious guest shot on Nightline.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Tuesday, October 5
From SoSH: Re: 10/04/04 Game One of the Real Season
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Jose has a confession to make, a shameful confession that he has held from you, his loyal readers throughout the regular season. But now on the eve of the postseason it is time to fess up. It is time for Jose to confess his sins and beg forgiveness, lest the new postseason begin with a foul stain from the old. Here goes…God, this is like passing a kidney stone...eerrrrr….. aaahhhhhhh…… yooooooowwwwwww… Jose may have had something to do with the Game 7 disaster last year. (Note: God that hurt.) Jose knows what you’re thinking.
“Oh Jose forgot too wear his lucky boxer shorts” or “Jose forgot to cross his fingers at a crucial juncture.” But no. This was worse, much worse. In the late innings of game 7, with the Sox up by three, the Melendezette left the apartment where we were watching the game with friends and walked the two blocks home to watch the conclusion as she prepared for an early morning meeting. And Jose let her. He let her go knowing that we had been winning with her on the couch beside him. He let her go knowing that without Jose’s counsel anything could happen. It would be easy for Jose to let the Melendezette take the fall for what happened next, but it would also be wrong, very, very wrong. (Note: And it could potentially result in him sleeping on the couch.)
The Melendezette is a fan, but she is not a fanatic. How was she to know that shaving her legs with a three run lead, could lead to disaster? Jose is not suggesting that this was mojo. Jose, as you well know, does not believe in mojo. Jose would never say something as foolish as “We were winning with hairy legs, we should have stuck with hairy legs.” (Note: Okay, Jose may have said that four or five thousand times in the days that followed.) No, Jose believes in science, in empiricism. Jose recalls reading in Jurassic Park, (Note: Michael Crichton went to medical school so the science has to be good, right?) that chaos theory suggests that a butterfly flapping its wings in Hong Kong can cause a hurricane in the Cayman Islands and wash all of the dirty, sheltered money into the sea. (Note: Okay, the last part may have been Jose’s anti tax cheat fantasy.) Thus, Jose maintains that a hair shorn form a leg in Boston and falling into a bathtub there resulted in a slight wind current in New York that pushed a Pedro fastball to Hideki Matsui slightly higher and changed the course of history. No, it is not the baseball Gods that are cruel, but the elements themselves. (Note: This is why so many Red Sox have long hair or unshaven. They know that atmospheric disturbances created by shearing hair could adversely affect games.)
But let it never be said that Jose Melendez does not learn from his mistakes. For instance, he learned that in the regular season ending KEYS he incorrectly stated that Kevin Paul Dupont had erred in saying that Theo Epstein took Keith Foulke to a Celtics game. From that, Jose learned to stop relying on actual news and simply make things up instead. (Note: The KEYS are “fiction” not journalism. Jose just watched the movie “Shattered Glass” about Stephen Glass’s fabrications at the New Republic, and Jose will be damned if anyone will ever question him about his sources. “Can you produce the source who told you Eric Kneel prefers Iran to America Mr. Melendez?” So consider yourselves warned. Much like the “Lighter Side” on Boston.com, KEYS is not news, fact or even edjutainment. It is good old fashioned fiction, or possibly prose poetry.)
So Jose is learning from past mistakes as Terry Eurona will this post season as well. (Note: Terry, yank Pedro after 7, bring in Stapleton for Buckner, never, ever rely on Calvin Schiraldi and don’t start Pete Schourek in game 4, and you’ll be fine. Wait, starting Schourek in Game 4 was the right decision. Okay, go ahead and start Shourek in game 4 Terry.) Jose has spoken with the Melendezette and she has agreed not to shave her legs during the post season. While this may seem like a big sacrifice, especially for Jose, the Melendezette has naturally smooth legs, so it will be managable. Also, just as a precaution, Jose’s friend Audrey, with whom he watched game 7 last year has agreed not to shave her legs either. This year there will be no atmospheric disturbances, no battles against fractals and no horrifying conclusions. This year, by harnessing the awesome power of science (Note: And not in a Bonds/Giambi/Sheffield way), we will prevail.
2. With his typical excellent timing, Jose has taken ill just in time for the post season. Yes, Jose is struggling with flulike symptoms. The question is will he respond to the symptoms like Michael Jordan or like Roger Clemens. Only time will tell. But enough about Jose’s illness let’s talk about our opponent the Anaheim Angles (Note: Jose will persist in calling them the Angles after the famed Germanic tribe that inhabited the British Isles, until someone can prove that “Angels” is not a stupid name for a baseball team.) What do the Angles have going for them? Well, their game one pitcher Jared Washburn looks terrific after losing 400 pounds by eating nothing but Subway sandwiches. In fact, he may want to get game 2 starter Bartolo Colon on that diet as well. You remember Bartolo Colon don’t you? The last time we saw in a playoff matchup, we scored 24 runs.
What else? Sparky Plug is their leadoff hitter, which is terrific for them. It’s like having Jeff Frye, and we all remember how great that was. They do have some big bats in their rotation however, like Troy Glaus, who can occasionally extend his arms, Garrett Anderson (Note: They might as well be trotting out Mrs. Garrett) and Vladimir Guerrero who, umm…who…well, who scares the hell out of Jose. And their manager? Mike Scioscia, who appears to have recovered fully from the radiation sickness detailed on the Simpsons, which Jose can only assume is a documentary of some kind, is regarded as among the best in baseball. But we will conquer the Angles like so many angry Normans. Before this series is over Bill “Umlaut” Mueller will me known as “William the Conqueror.”
3. Jose just heard on WEEI that Scott Williamson will not be on the Division Series roster due to “an inability to carry a heavy workload. Remarkably, Jose expects to have the same problem for the duration of the playoffs. Regrettably, Jose does not expect to be left off of his employer’s playoff roster.
(Completely unrelated note inserted as a note only because a fourth KEY would be blasphemous: Last night Jose slept fitfully, tossing and turning as a vision emerged from his fever racked brain. Jose saw a tie game in the bottom of the ninth, he saw Sparky Plug hit a soft liner….just…just over the head of Euro Bellhorn to give the Angles a 1-0 game 1 win. Jose awoke in a cold sweat, shaking, fearful, and then he remembered. He remembered what he has told you all before. Jose’s dreams are an excellent predictor of what will not happen. Indeed, the opposite is bound to occur. Rejoice. Sox. Playoffs. It begins.)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Jose has a confession to make, a shameful confession that he has held from you, his loyal readers throughout the regular season. But now on the eve of the postseason it is time to fess up. It is time for Jose to confess his sins and beg forgiveness, lest the new postseason begin with a foul stain from the old. Here goes…God, this is like passing a kidney stone...eerrrrr….. aaahhhhhhh…… yooooooowwwwwww… Jose may have had something to do with the Game 7 disaster last year. (Note: God that hurt.) Jose knows what you’re thinking.
“Oh Jose forgot too wear his lucky boxer shorts” or “Jose forgot to cross his fingers at a crucial juncture.” But no. This was worse, much worse. In the late innings of game 7, with the Sox up by three, the Melendezette left the apartment where we were watching the game with friends and walked the two blocks home to watch the conclusion as she prepared for an early morning meeting. And Jose let her. He let her go knowing that we had been winning with her on the couch beside him. He let her go knowing that without Jose’s counsel anything could happen. It would be easy for Jose to let the Melendezette take the fall for what happened next, but it would also be wrong, very, very wrong. (Note: And it could potentially result in him sleeping on the couch.)
The Melendezette is a fan, but she is not a fanatic. How was she to know that shaving her legs with a three run lead, could lead to disaster? Jose is not suggesting that this was mojo. Jose, as you well know, does not believe in mojo. Jose would never say something as foolish as “We were winning with hairy legs, we should have stuck with hairy legs.” (Note: Okay, Jose may have said that four or five thousand times in the days that followed.) No, Jose believes in science, in empiricism. Jose recalls reading in Jurassic Park, (Note: Michael Crichton went to medical school so the science has to be good, right?) that chaos theory suggests that a butterfly flapping its wings in Hong Kong can cause a hurricane in the Cayman Islands and wash all of the dirty, sheltered money into the sea. (Note: Okay, the last part may have been Jose’s anti tax cheat fantasy.) Thus, Jose maintains that a hair shorn form a leg in Boston and falling into a bathtub there resulted in a slight wind current in New York that pushed a Pedro fastball to Hideki Matsui slightly higher and changed the course of history. No, it is not the baseball Gods that are cruel, but the elements themselves. (Note: This is why so many Red Sox have long hair or unshaven. They know that atmospheric disturbances created by shearing hair could adversely affect games.)
But let it never be said that Jose Melendez does not learn from his mistakes. For instance, he learned that in the regular season ending KEYS he incorrectly stated that Kevin Paul Dupont had erred in saying that Theo Epstein took Keith Foulke to a Celtics game. From that, Jose learned to stop relying on actual news and simply make things up instead. (Note: The KEYS are “fiction” not journalism. Jose just watched the movie “Shattered Glass” about Stephen Glass’s fabrications at the New Republic, and Jose will be damned if anyone will ever question him about his sources. “Can you produce the source who told you Eric Kneel prefers Iran to America Mr. Melendez?” So consider yourselves warned. Much like the “Lighter Side” on Boston.com, KEYS is not news, fact or even edjutainment. It is good old fashioned fiction, or possibly prose poetry.)
So Jose is learning from past mistakes as Terry Eurona will this post season as well. (Note: Terry, yank Pedro after 7, bring in Stapleton for Buckner, never, ever rely on Calvin Schiraldi and don’t start Pete Schourek in game 4, and you’ll be fine. Wait, starting Schourek in Game 4 was the right decision. Okay, go ahead and start Shourek in game 4 Terry.) Jose has spoken with the Melendezette and she has agreed not to shave her legs during the post season. While this may seem like a big sacrifice, especially for Jose, the Melendezette has naturally smooth legs, so it will be managable. Also, just as a precaution, Jose’s friend Audrey, with whom he watched game 7 last year has agreed not to shave her legs either. This year there will be no atmospheric disturbances, no battles against fractals and no horrifying conclusions. This year, by harnessing the awesome power of science (Note: And not in a Bonds/Giambi/Sheffield way), we will prevail.
2. With his typical excellent timing, Jose has taken ill just in time for the post season. Yes, Jose is struggling with flulike symptoms. The question is will he respond to the symptoms like Michael Jordan or like Roger Clemens. Only time will tell. But enough about Jose’s illness let’s talk about our opponent the Anaheim Angles (Note: Jose will persist in calling them the Angles after the famed Germanic tribe that inhabited the British Isles, until someone can prove that “Angels” is not a stupid name for a baseball team.) What do the Angles have going for them? Well, their game one pitcher Jared Washburn looks terrific after losing 400 pounds by eating nothing but Subway sandwiches. In fact, he may want to get game 2 starter Bartolo Colon on that diet as well. You remember Bartolo Colon don’t you? The last time we saw in a playoff matchup, we scored 24 runs.
What else? Sparky Plug is their leadoff hitter, which is terrific for them. It’s like having Jeff Frye, and we all remember how great that was. They do have some big bats in their rotation however, like Troy Glaus, who can occasionally extend his arms, Garrett Anderson (Note: They might as well be trotting out Mrs. Garrett) and Vladimir Guerrero who, umm…who…well, who scares the hell out of Jose. And their manager? Mike Scioscia, who appears to have recovered fully from the radiation sickness detailed on the Simpsons, which Jose can only assume is a documentary of some kind, is regarded as among the best in baseball. But we will conquer the Angles like so many angry Normans. Before this series is over Bill “Umlaut” Mueller will me known as “William the Conqueror.”
3. Jose just heard on WEEI that Scott Williamson will not be on the Division Series roster due to “an inability to carry a heavy workload. Remarkably, Jose expects to have the same problem for the duration of the playoffs. Regrettably, Jose does not expect to be left off of his employer’s playoff roster.
(Completely unrelated note inserted as a note only because a fourth KEY would be blasphemous: Last night Jose slept fitfully, tossing and turning as a vision emerged from his fever racked brain. Jose saw a tie game in the bottom of the ninth, he saw Sparky Plug hit a soft liner….just…just over the head of Euro Bellhorn to give the Angles a 1-0 game 1 win. Jose awoke in a cold sweat, shaking, fearful, and then he remembered. He remembered what he has told you all before. Jose’s dreams are an excellent predictor of what will not happen. Indeed, the opposite is bound to occur. Rejoice. Sox. Playoffs. It begins.)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Sunday, October 3
From SoSH: Re: 10/3 Baltimore vs. Boston - regular season finale
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Today is the end of the regular season and thus the end of the regular season KEYS. Jose has learned a lot this year. For instance, Jose can now confirm that the old cliché that the regular season is a marathon and not a sprint is in fact accurate. Despite the fact that he missed the first six weeks of the season with, let’s say ankle tendonitis, (okay, technically Jose hadn’t come up with the idea of KEYS until early May) Jose still has all of the problems that come from the long-term grind of a marathon, cramps, fatigue, nipple chaffing, defrocked Irish priests attacking him…but Jose never stops, never yields, never surrenders.
Actually, Jose can argue that he’s had it harder than many of the players. Sure they have to "play the games" and "exert physical effort," but they do so with the help of trainers, coaches, traveling secretaries and post-game buffet spreads. Jose has no trainer to tape his swollen fingers, no typing coach to make sure he has the right mechanics for his right pinky finger, no writing coach to keep a watchful eye over his participles, no traveling secretary to book him a ticket on the bus to New Bedford or secure a Zipcar to Pittsfield, and the next complementary buffet he is offered after writing a KEYS will be the first. (Note: Though Jose does typically have a complementary cup of coffee at work after he posts weekday KEYS.)
No, all Jose has is the warm support of the Melendezette and the encouragement of the Melendez family, all of whom have provided extensive material for the KEYS. That and his tens of fans.
But as we move into the post season things will change. The KEYS will take on a greater sense of urgency as the marathon becomes a sprint becomes a three-legged race. Each KEY will be pregnant with importance. Readers will hold their breath waiting for the next word. Jose himself, will type with his fingers crossed. (Note: So look forward to lots of exciting playoff typos.) Jose will no longer offer meaningless rambles that tie his life to baseball in some odd way. Instead, he will offer meaningful, essential rambles that tie his life to baseball in some odd way. The references to obscure pro wrestlers or Spiderman villains that seemed stupid and pointless yesterday, will seem bold yet risky tomorrow. (Note: Look for big contributions from wrestler Norman the Lunatic and comic book villains Rocket Racer and The Gibbon.)
Yes, today the regular season ends and Tuesday the irregular season begins, and who better to address the irregular than your humble servant, Jose Melendez.
2. In today’s glowing Boston Globe profile of Sox general manager Theo Epstein, we learned that when he worked in the Padres organization, Theo would watch NFL games with his boss Kevin Towers while wearing an Adam Vinatieri Jersey. That’s right Theo wore a kicker’ jersey. Wuss. Before any one makes the argument that this is the kicker that won us two Super Bowls, remember that this was before all of that. Look, we all think Vinatieri is great, but going with the kicker’s jersey is just not macho. It’s like wearing a situational lefty’s jersey for baseball. So if any of you are trying to pick Theo out of a crowd, look for the guy wearing the Mike Myers jersey. (Note: Do you think that when he was a teenager Theo had a Tony Fossas jersey?) Jose, on the other hand will be wearing the exceedingly macho Tim Wakefield jersey.
3. The profile, which Jose thought was pretty good, was written by Globe hockey writer Kevin Paul Dupont. While Dupont seems to have done pretty well on the baseball end of it, he appears, remarkably to have screwed up the one hockey detail in the piece. He claims that in his courtship of Keith Foulke, Theo took the closer to a Celtics game. Jose is almost positive that he took Foulke, a huge hockey fan, to a Bruins game. Is it possible that Theo took him to a Celtics game as well? Jose supposes, but Jose sincerely doubts that proximity to the dreadful Celtics would be much of an inducement to anyone. (Note: Though in fairness, they are better than the Warriors, who were the nearest "NBA team" when Foulke pitched in Oakland.
Jose’s theory is that Dupont, knowing the sad state of hockey these days, simply could not believe that any non-Canadian was a big enough fan for hockey to influence his choice about where to live or work.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Today is the end of the regular season and thus the end of the regular season KEYS. Jose has learned a lot this year. For instance, Jose can now confirm that the old cliché that the regular season is a marathon and not a sprint is in fact accurate. Despite the fact that he missed the first six weeks of the season with, let’s say ankle tendonitis, (okay, technically Jose hadn’t come up with the idea of KEYS until early May) Jose still has all of the problems that come from the long-term grind of a marathon, cramps, fatigue, nipple chaffing, defrocked Irish priests attacking him…but Jose never stops, never yields, never surrenders.
Actually, Jose can argue that he’s had it harder than many of the players. Sure they have to "play the games" and "exert physical effort," but they do so with the help of trainers, coaches, traveling secretaries and post-game buffet spreads. Jose has no trainer to tape his swollen fingers, no typing coach to make sure he has the right mechanics for his right pinky finger, no writing coach to keep a watchful eye over his participles, no traveling secretary to book him a ticket on the bus to New Bedford or secure a Zipcar to Pittsfield, and the next complementary buffet he is offered after writing a KEYS will be the first. (Note: Though Jose does typically have a complementary cup of coffee at work after he posts weekday KEYS.)
No, all Jose has is the warm support of the Melendezette and the encouragement of the Melendez family, all of whom have provided extensive material for the KEYS. That and his tens of fans.
But as we move into the post season things will change. The KEYS will take on a greater sense of urgency as the marathon becomes a sprint becomes a three-legged race. Each KEY will be pregnant with importance. Readers will hold their breath waiting for the next word. Jose himself, will type with his fingers crossed. (Note: So look forward to lots of exciting playoff typos.) Jose will no longer offer meaningless rambles that tie his life to baseball in some odd way. Instead, he will offer meaningful, essential rambles that tie his life to baseball in some odd way. The references to obscure pro wrestlers or Spiderman villains that seemed stupid and pointless yesterday, will seem bold yet risky tomorrow. (Note: Look for big contributions from wrestler Norman the Lunatic and comic book villains Rocket Racer and The Gibbon.)
Yes, today the regular season ends and Tuesday the irregular season begins, and who better to address the irregular than your humble servant, Jose Melendez.
2. In today’s glowing Boston Globe profile of Sox general manager Theo Epstein, we learned that when he worked in the Padres organization, Theo would watch NFL games with his boss Kevin Towers while wearing an Adam Vinatieri Jersey. That’s right Theo wore a kicker’ jersey. Wuss. Before any one makes the argument that this is the kicker that won us two Super Bowls, remember that this was before all of that. Look, we all think Vinatieri is great, but going with the kicker’s jersey is just not macho. It’s like wearing a situational lefty’s jersey for baseball. So if any of you are trying to pick Theo out of a crowd, look for the guy wearing the Mike Myers jersey. (Note: Do you think that when he was a teenager Theo had a Tony Fossas jersey?) Jose, on the other hand will be wearing the exceedingly macho Tim Wakefield jersey.
3. The profile, which Jose thought was pretty good, was written by Globe hockey writer Kevin Paul Dupont. While Dupont seems to have done pretty well on the baseball end of it, he appears, remarkably to have screwed up the one hockey detail in the piece. He claims that in his courtship of Keith Foulke, Theo took the closer to a Celtics game. Jose is almost positive that he took Foulke, a huge hockey fan, to a Bruins game. Is it possible that Theo took him to a Celtics game as well? Jose supposes, but Jose sincerely doubts that proximity to the dreadful Celtics would be much of an inducement to anyone. (Note: Though in fairness, they are better than the Warriors, who were the nearest "NBA team" when Foulke pitched in Oakland.
Jose’s theory is that Dupont, knowing the sad state of hockey these days, simply could not believe that any non-Canadian was a big enough fan for hockey to influence his choice about where to live or work.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Saturday, October 2
From SoSH: Re: 10/2 Boston vs. Baltimore Game 2 - Astacio vs. Ponson
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Apparently, they called the Minnesota-Cleveland game after 12 innings this afternoon with the score tied at 5 in order to convert the Metrodome for a University of Minnesota Golden Gophers football game. (Note: It would have been much funnier if they had halted the game in order to premiere a production of Heidi in the Metrodome.) The game will be completed tomorrow. Jose would not have chosen this solution. Since gophers live underground, Jose would have allowed the college football game to be played in the vast catacombs beneath the Metrodome. Wouldn’t that have been a more egalitarian solution? On the up side Jose fears the Twins a little less now before. Any team that would allow a game to be halted for the benefit of a college team can not possibly advance in the playoffs. Would the Red Sox every halt a game so the BU Terriers football team, could get in a game? Of course not. Hell, the Red Sox even ordered the BU Football team destroyed so as to eliminate even the vaguest possibility of that happening.
2. Jose has often said that the Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Memorial Freedom Bridge was worth the $14.2 billion cost of the Big Dig all by itself. That’s how much Jose like that bridge. Also, going over it reminds him of Space Mountain. But now that is ruined forever.
A civil engineer who was Jose’s father’s college roommate told Jose today that a guy he knows who worked on the Big Dig thought that the struggle over the bridge’s name should have been resolved by calling it the "Bill Buckner Bridge." Get it? Because one drives through the legs of the Y frame, and Buckner…oh forget it, it’s just depressing. Now Jose will never be able to drive over tat beautiful bridge, or even walk down the street in Boston’s historic North End without thinking of the 1986 series.
This isn’t a Jose original, he is happy to say, it pops on Google a few times, so he can’t take credit for it. But Jose will take credit for this – following this year’s ALCS, an equally appropriate name will be the Derek Jeter Bridge. Jose will not elaborate.
3. Jose is glad to see Pedro Astacio get one start before the end of the season, especially since he may be a starter for us next year. But Jose reminds the Red Sox brain trust that all Pedros are not created equal. If you lose Pedro Martinez, neither Pedro Astacio, not Pedro Guerrero, nor even former WWF champion Pedro Morales himself could fill the void.
Was that a week KEY 3? Well, yes, but don’t worry about it, Jose is just trying to get his regular work in and keep loose as we head towards the playoffs. Jose does not want to hear rumors hat he tanked this post because he was agitated about not being chosen as the SoSH Game Thread started for Game 1. The way Jose is writing right now, he is lucky to be posting at all. Jose understands and accepts his role as a poster rather than a thread starter and is focused on the good of the team. (Note: Look for the Tony Castrati piece in tomorrow’s Herald saying that despite his comments, Jose Melendez is furious that he will not be starting the Game 1 Game Thread.)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Apparently, they called the Minnesota-Cleveland game after 12 innings this afternoon with the score tied at 5 in order to convert the Metrodome for a University of Minnesota Golden Gophers football game. (Note: It would have been much funnier if they had halted the game in order to premiere a production of Heidi in the Metrodome.) The game will be completed tomorrow. Jose would not have chosen this solution. Since gophers live underground, Jose would have allowed the college football game to be played in the vast catacombs beneath the Metrodome. Wouldn’t that have been a more egalitarian solution? On the up side Jose fears the Twins a little less now before. Any team that would allow a game to be halted for the benefit of a college team can not possibly advance in the playoffs. Would the Red Sox every halt a game so the BU Terriers football team, could get in a game? Of course not. Hell, the Red Sox even ordered the BU Football team destroyed so as to eliminate even the vaguest possibility of that happening.
2. Jose has often said that the Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Memorial Freedom Bridge was worth the $14.2 billion cost of the Big Dig all by itself. That’s how much Jose like that bridge. Also, going over it reminds him of Space Mountain. But now that is ruined forever.
A civil engineer who was Jose’s father’s college roommate told Jose today that a guy he knows who worked on the Big Dig thought that the struggle over the bridge’s name should have been resolved by calling it the "Bill Buckner Bridge." Get it? Because one drives through the legs of the Y frame, and Buckner…oh forget it, it’s just depressing. Now Jose will never be able to drive over tat beautiful bridge, or even walk down the street in Boston’s historic North End without thinking of the 1986 series.
This isn’t a Jose original, he is happy to say, it pops on Google a few times, so he can’t take credit for it. But Jose will take credit for this – following this year’s ALCS, an equally appropriate name will be the Derek Jeter Bridge. Jose will not elaborate.
3. Jose is glad to see Pedro Astacio get one start before the end of the season, especially since he may be a starter for us next year. But Jose reminds the Red Sox brain trust that all Pedros are not created equal. If you lose Pedro Martinez, neither Pedro Astacio, not Pedro Guerrero, nor even former WWF champion Pedro Morales himself could fill the void.
Was that a week KEY 3? Well, yes, but don’t worry about it, Jose is just trying to get his regular work in and keep loose as we head towards the playoffs. Jose does not want to hear rumors hat he tanked this post because he was agitated about not being chosen as the SoSH Game Thread started for Game 1. The way Jose is writing right now, he is lucky to be posting at all. Jose understands and accepts his role as a poster rather than a thread starter and is focused on the good of the team. (Note: Look for the Tony Castrati piece in tomorrow’s Herald saying that despite his comments, Jose Melendez is furious that he will not be starting the Game 1 Game Thread.)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
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