It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE ALDS.
1. George Elliott, the famous transsexual author, once wrote “The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.”
Jose is not sure exactly when (s)he wrote that, but he suspects it was after one of the ten consecutive post season games the Red Sox have taken from the Los Calanaheim Angles.
Unlike many moments in the history of the Boston Red Sox, these games against the Angels have been golden moments, all of them. From Hendu’s homer, to Roger Clemens inexplicably winning a Game 7 (note: thank God, Jeff Suppan wasn’t starting for the Angles that night), to Papi’s walk off, to Manny’s fly into the night last fall, the good moments against the Angels are wound together in such a smooth and subtle continuum that it is easy to miss exactly how special, how golden each of these shimmering singularities is.
This series will fade. We will not remember most of its splendid moments. The 2004 ALDS is absent from the World Series DVD collection. The same holds for 2007. These series are forgotten, picayune overtures that hint at Act I and Act II before being retired to hazy memory. Despite the dramatic walk off homers in 2004 and 2007, do we remember those moments the way we remember ALDS moments against other opponents? Will anything from this series remind us of O’Leary seven RBI’s in the 1999 ALDS finale or Pedro’s six no hit innings? Will any pitch seem as extraordinary as Derek Lowe’s back door breaking ball to strike out Terence Long in 2003?
These series against the Angels begin with haste and end as quickly and unceremoniously as a series in May. We cannot see them and savor them. We know them only as something has passed and is then forgotten.
Jose never thought he would say this after reading Silas Marner, George Elliott is making sense.
Still, the story in incomplete. There is more going on here then the abrupt evaporation of golden moments. There is something more sinister, violent even.
There is another quote about the Angels that is a partner in describing the long streak, and the short series. Jack Handy of Saturday Night Live once said over soothing music and calming images “It’s true that every time you hear a bell, an angel gets its wings. But what they don’t tell you is that every time you hear a mouse trap snap, an angel gets set on fire.”
SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
Huh, that was 11. Funny.
2. In 1867, Japan began the period of transition from feudalism to industrial society and colonial power called the Meiji Restoration. The Restoration came in direct response to Commodore Matthew Perry’s success at forcing Japan to open in 1853. The superior firepower of Perry’s black ships convinced elements in Japan that the country needed to modernize rapidly or else it would succumb to Western power. In other words, the Japanese needed to learn from their enemies and make fundamental adjustments in how they organized themselves in order to compete.
Over the past year, the Angels have undergone a similar process. After being humiliated by Commodore Tito, and his black, err black, white and Dominican, fleet in 2007, the Angels realized that they needed to learn from the Red Sox if they were to compete with them. As a result, they shifted from being a team that relied entirely on speed and acquired Mark Teixera to give them the best possible (note: though still inadequate) facsimile of Boston’s 3-4 slugger combination.
It worked. Just like Japan in the Meiji period, the Angels went through a rapid and spectacular transformation.
The crowning validation of the Meiji Restoration was Japan’s victory in the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-05. Japan won despite the fact that Jose’s great-grandfather had gotten the hell out of the country one-year prior, so they were at a huge disadvantage.
So the validation of the Angels Restoration should be a victory over the Boston Red Sox. But where is it? It is as though a strong and modernized Japan laid siege to Port Arthur and then gave up after three days because it was hard and kind of boring. If the Angles don’t show some spine, the Red Sox won’t even need to Teddy Roosevelt to cut us a sweetheart deal in Portsmouth, we will just dictate terms.
When all was said and done, the British presented the Japanese with a lock of admiral Nelson’s hair, to commemorate their victory in the battle of Tsushima. If the Angels keep playing like they have been, they won’t even get a lock of Jeff Nelson’s hair.
3. Orange County Register columnist Randy Youngman, which Jose assumes is his porn name, joined in the Greek chorus of columnists muttering in monotone that the Angles postseason losing streak against the Sox goes back to 1986. But Youngman breaks free from the crowd and distinguishes himself as the choragus by invoking the Chernobyl nuclear disaster in his recollection.
While he does not explicitly compare the losing streak to Chernobyl, the comparison is implicit and it is devastating.
People died as the result of both events (note: Donnie Moore and Chernobyl victims rest in piece) and the impacts of both disasters continue to this day.
But the analogy is profoundly imperfect. Whereas Chernobyl destroyed an entire city, the Angels losing streak has only destroyed Orange County. Also, the Chernobyl reactor was enclosed in a massive concrete sarcophagus in order to contain the radiation. As best Jose knows, no one has considered building a massive sarcophagus to contain the Angels, even though teammates of 1986 team member Reggie Jackson regard him as radioactive.
If one insists on comparing the Angels losing streak to a Soviet disaster in 1986, Jose would suggest that the obvious analogy is the sinking of the SS Admiral Nakhimov, a passenger boat that collided with the bulk carrier Pyotr Vasyov in the Tsemes Bay, killing 423. The Pyotr Vasayov, was Japanese built, lending credence to the notion that the Angels will, this evening, be sunk by something built in Japan.
In addition, much like Angels skipper Mike Scioscia, the Admiral Nakhimov’s captain Vadim Markov seemed utterly unconcerned about the impending disaster, saying, “Don't worry. We will pass clear of each other. We will take care of everything."
There is one major difference, however, that may prove decisive. The Admiral Nakhimov did not have monkey.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE ALDS.
Friday, October 3
Wednesday, October 1
ALDS GAME 1—Why We Are Different
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE ALDS.
1. The setting is new, but the scene is the same.
It is North Carolina here, yet it is still Boston within these walls. A semi circle of cardboard is lashed to the top of the closet, a flimsy backboard to a flimsier hoop. On it is an image, frozen, eternal, perfect. Orlando Cabrera dives into a jubilant crowd, Dave Roberts edges Kevin Youkilis for position in the scrum and even Johnny Damon, the good Johnny Damon, the bearded Johnny Damon embraces a still ambulatory Mosey Nixon.
As Jose’s eyes drift to the left a poster hangs, long since denuded of the glass that once gave it sheen. Ramirez, Damon, Martinez, Foulke. They are all there, jolly specters of the best of days.
Still further to the left, the other closet flaps open. There amidst the striped shirts and khaki slacks Jose can see the crisp white of his number 19 jersey, MELENDEZ stitched across the back, a necessary error if he is to distinguish his jersey from Josh Beckett’s. It is a good jersey, a prized possession and a generous gift, but it is not Jose’s playoff jersey. That honor goes to a grey road uni with 49 and WAKEFIELD framed neatly across the back. Jose got the jersey in 1995 when he was slinging fries at Fenway. It still has streaks of red face paint on it from the 1999 ALCS, when joy turned to grief and from Game 3 of the 2004 ALCS when grief descended like night, only to be broken the next day by four years of shimmering dawn. The shirt bears the stains of history. It bears the stench of history. It has not been washed in nine years.
To the closet’s left side a license plate/clock declares Jose to be the Red Sox “#1 FAN.” The clock does not work. Its white hands stretch across a compass rose of a clock and freeze at 10:40, the exact time the Red Sox won the 2004 World Series. It is eerie. Sure, Jose set the hands there about two minutes ago so he could write this sentence, but still it is strange and wonderful.
Just below the clock hangs a final poster.
Pedro’s smiling face perched a cross a slim cartoon body face stares across at Rahjh’s impudent mug. Game 3, 1999. Until 2004, it was the happiest day of Jose’s life. Not only did the Red Sox crush the Yankees, but Jose also saw Jimy Williams at a bar sucking down scotch after scotch.
And that is all. Except for the Red Sox coffee cup on the table to Jose’s right.. and the four KEYS books atop the bureau to his right… and a Wakefield t-shirt… and a Red Sox Hideo Nomo t-shirt… and the sleepy dork, happily typing away in the voice of a long forgotten relief pitcher while the world passes him by.
This is who Jose is. This is who the Red Sox are. It is who you are too. It is why we will win. While Jose feverishly types his youth away, the Orange Country Register lists yesterday’s top five most read stories as:
The people of Anaheim are not us, nor are they we. They just aren’t. We let jerseys putrefy for nine years. We get memorabilia for players who were terrible. We brood and rejoice and brood a little more. They are fans, barely, but we are more. We are a religion, we are a movement, we are a people.
Yes we can? Certainly, but that is unremarkable. Yes we will.
Yes. We will.
2. On his blog yesterday, Tony Castrati suggested that the suddenly muscular Angles (note: not a typo, see KEY 3, or any think Jose has ever written about that team) have switched places with a Red Sox squad that had the league leader in stolen bases for the first time since Nixon was riding high. Specifically, he compared them to the plots of three movies: “Freaky Friday,” “Trading Places” and ""Like Father, Like Son.” While Jose admires any effort to work Kirk Cameron, the star of Like Father, Like Son into a baseball column, Jose categorically rejects Castrati’s analogy. Also, why not work in Malcom-Jamal Warner instead? This season has resembled the plot of at least three episodes of Malcom and Eddie. Also, unlike Warner, Cameron does not have a surprisingly good jazz combo, though Jose regrets that Warner’s group is not named “Theo and the Trio.”
But back to Castrati’s poor analogy. First, let’s start with the fact that these three movies have almost nothing in common. One is about two white guys trading bodies, one is about two white girls trading bodies and one is about high finance. And ff one wants to compare “Like Father, Like Son” to something, how can one ignore the Judge Reinhold vehicle “Vice Versa?” The only difference between the two films is that Reinhold changes bodies with Fred Savage thanks to a mysterious skull while Cameron trades bodies with Dudley Moore due to mysterious potion. They were made within a year of each other and can be purchased together as a two DVD set. Doesn’t Castrati do any research?
Now, let’s examine why each of the three films Castrati cites is a bad analogy.
In “Freaky Friday” a coke addled teenager trades bodies with her technically a man mother. Or, if your prefer the 1976 version, an FBI agent/Astronomer trades places with a voiceover woman from the underappreciated 1977 Doonesbury special, and inspires John Hinckley to shoot Ronald Reagan. Jose thinks it’s pretty clear where this analogy goes off the tracks. While Red Sox-Angles playoff series have inspired players to shoot their wives and themselves, they have never once inspired anyone to shoot an elderly actor/president. Also, Jamie Lee Curtis is twice the man John Lackey is.
What about Trading Places? In this one, two rich white investors destroy lives before eventually destroying themselves. Actually, this one sounds like it might be just about right. Wait, that’s the banking crisis Jose’s thinking of not the playoffs. Never mind.
And actually, the plot is less centered on the rich brothers than on the subject of their manipulation of a black hustler and a white commodities trader. Jamie Lee Curtis plays prominently in this one too as a hooker who is three times the man Chone Figgins is. To Jose’s mind, the only way this analogy holds up is if current Angle and former Red Sox Darren Oliver teams up with Jon Garland to bankrupt the Red Sox commodity trading owner, John W. Henry, by cornering the market on concentrated frozen orange juice. If Oliver and Garland do corner the market on concentrated frozen orange juice in the next few days, Jose will concede that the Red Sox could be in trouble.
This leaves us with “Like Father, Like Son”/“Vice Versa.” Here’s why this one doesn’t work. For this analogy to hold, you’d have to assume that the Red Sox were Dudley Moore /Judge Reinhold to begin with and were magically transformed into Kirk Cameron/Fred Savage. Castrati argues that would be a bad thing, but he is wrong. Does he know that Dudley Moore is dead while Kirk Cameron prominent evangelical Christian actor? Also Dudley Moore was the star of a film called “Arthur,” and playing a carton aardvark is not exactly a great career move. So if this transformation did transpire, it would be to Boston’s benefit, which destroys Castrati’s model.
Still, Jose will give Castrati some credit. He had the right instinct in going for a Kirk Cameron analogy, he just picked the wrong film. Given the troubles the Angles will have driving in runners in this series, the correct Kirk Cameron film analogy is “Left Behind.”
3. There have not been a lot of Normans on the Red Sox throughout their storied history. There was Norman Zauchin, who played a few years in the 50s and Norman Siebern, who played on the Impossible Dream team before wrapping up his career a year later. Nelson Norman coached for the Sox in 2001. But that’s pretty much it. At least it was until today.
Today that changes. Today we are all Normans. As we head into Battle against the Angles, 25 Normans will don helms of blue and Terry Eurona will prepare to be crowned Tito the Conqueror.
Norman Schwarzkopf will be watching. He’ll be in camouflage, so you can’t see him, but he’ll be there.
Norm and Norma Nathan will be watching from the great gossip column in the sky.
Norman the Lunatic, back to his asylum , his wrestling days long gone, will beg to watch the game just like Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.
Even Greg Norman will take a break from winemaking to see what a champion looks like.
Today, the Battle of Hastings will be replayed just a few days shy of its 942nd anniversary and, then as now, the Angles will be defeated and subjected to 1,056 years of subjugation minimum
Watch out Angles, the Normans are coming and it's Hastings all over again.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE ALDS.
1. The setting is new, but the scene is the same.
It is North Carolina here, yet it is still Boston within these walls. A semi circle of cardboard is lashed to the top of the closet, a flimsy backboard to a flimsier hoop. On it is an image, frozen, eternal, perfect. Orlando Cabrera dives into a jubilant crowd, Dave Roberts edges Kevin Youkilis for position in the scrum and even Johnny Damon, the good Johnny Damon, the bearded Johnny Damon embraces a still ambulatory Mosey Nixon.
Just below the clock hangs a final poster.
BATTLE FOR THE AGES
FENWAY PARK OCT. 16
PEDRO MARTINEZ vs. ROGER CLEMENS
FENWAY PARK OCT. 16
PEDRO MARTINEZ vs. ROGER CLEMENS
Pedro’s smiling face perched a cross a slim cartoon body face stares across at Rahjh’s impudent mug. Game 3, 1999. Until 2004, it was the happiest day of Jose’s life. Not only did the Red Sox crush the Yankees, but Jose also saw Jimy Williams at a bar sucking down scotch after scotch.
And that is all. Except for the Red Sox coffee cup on the table to Jose’s right.. and the four KEYS books atop the bureau to his right… and a Wakefield t-shirt… and a Red Sox Hideo Nomo t-shirt… and the sleepy dork, happily typing away in the voice of a long forgotten relief pitcher while the world passes him by.
This is who Jose is. This is who the Red Sox are. It is who you are too. It is why we will win. While Jose feverishly types his youth away, the Orange Country Register lists yesterday’s top five most read stories as:
- For Kobe, 30 is the new 20
- New O.C. football Top 10 released
- Lakers keep an eye on the beasts in the East
- Mr. October: Angels need to improve post-season approach
- 5 things to watch for in Lakers training camp
The people of Anaheim are not us, nor are they we. They just aren’t. We let jerseys putrefy for nine years. We get memorabilia for players who were terrible. We brood and rejoice and brood a little more. They are fans, barely, but we are more. We are a religion, we are a movement, we are a people.
Yes we can? Certainly, but that is unremarkable. Yes we will.
Yes. We will.
2. On his blog yesterday, Tony Castrati suggested that the suddenly muscular Angles (note: not a typo, see KEY 3, or any think Jose has ever written about that team) have switched places with a Red Sox squad that had the league leader in stolen bases for the first time since Nixon was riding high. Specifically, he compared them to the plots of three movies: “Freaky Friday,” “Trading Places” and ""Like Father, Like Son.” While Jose admires any effort to work Kirk Cameron, the star of Like Father, Like Son into a baseball column, Jose categorically rejects Castrati’s analogy. Also, why not work in Malcom-Jamal Warner instead? This season has resembled the plot of at least three episodes of Malcom and Eddie. Also, unlike Warner, Cameron does not have a surprisingly good jazz combo, though Jose regrets that Warner’s group is not named “Theo and the Trio.”
But back to Castrati’s poor analogy. First, let’s start with the fact that these three movies have almost nothing in common. One is about two white guys trading bodies, one is about two white girls trading bodies and one is about high finance. And ff one wants to compare “Like Father, Like Son” to something, how can one ignore the Judge Reinhold vehicle “Vice Versa?” The only difference between the two films is that Reinhold changes bodies with Fred Savage thanks to a mysterious skull while Cameron trades bodies with Dudley Moore due to mysterious potion. They were made within a year of each other and can be purchased together as a two DVD set. Doesn’t Castrati do any research?
Now, let’s examine why each of the three films Castrati cites is a bad analogy.
In “Freaky Friday” a coke addled teenager trades bodies with her technically a man mother. Or, if your prefer the 1976 version, an FBI agent/Astronomer trades places with a voiceover woman from the underappreciated 1977 Doonesbury special, and inspires John Hinckley to shoot Ronald Reagan. Jose thinks it’s pretty clear where this analogy goes off the tracks. While Red Sox-Angles playoff series have inspired players to shoot their wives and themselves, they have never once inspired anyone to shoot an elderly actor/president. Also, Jamie Lee Curtis is twice the man John Lackey is.
What about Trading Places? In this one, two rich white investors destroy lives before eventually destroying themselves. Actually, this one sounds like it might be just about right. Wait, that’s the banking crisis Jose’s thinking of not the playoffs. Never mind.
And actually, the plot is less centered on the rich brothers than on the subject of their manipulation of a black hustler and a white commodities trader. Jamie Lee Curtis plays prominently in this one too as a hooker who is three times the man Chone Figgins is. To Jose’s mind, the only way this analogy holds up is if current Angle and former Red Sox Darren Oliver teams up with Jon Garland to bankrupt the Red Sox commodity trading owner, John W. Henry, by cornering the market on concentrated frozen orange juice. If Oliver and Garland do corner the market on concentrated frozen orange juice in the next few days, Jose will concede that the Red Sox could be in trouble.
This leaves us with “Like Father, Like Son”/“Vice Versa.” Here’s why this one doesn’t work. For this analogy to hold, you’d have to assume that the Red Sox were Dudley Moore /Judge Reinhold to begin with and were magically transformed into Kirk Cameron/Fred Savage. Castrati argues that would be a bad thing, but he is wrong. Does he know that Dudley Moore is dead while Kirk Cameron prominent evangelical Christian actor? Also Dudley Moore was the star of a film called “Arthur,” and playing a carton aardvark is not exactly a great career move. So if this transformation did transpire, it would be to Boston’s benefit, which destroys Castrati’s model.
Still, Jose will give Castrati some credit. He had the right instinct in going for a Kirk Cameron analogy, he just picked the wrong film. Given the troubles the Angles will have driving in runners in this series, the correct Kirk Cameron film analogy is “Left Behind.”
3. There have not been a lot of Normans on the Red Sox throughout their storied history. There was Norman Zauchin, who played a few years in the 50s and Norman Siebern, who played on the Impossible Dream team before wrapping up his career a year later. Nelson Norman coached for the Sox in 2001. But that’s pretty much it. At least it was until today.
Today that changes. Today we are all Normans. As we head into Battle against the Angles, 25 Normans will don helms of blue and Terry Eurona will prepare to be crowned Tito the Conqueror.
Norman Schwarzkopf will be watching. He’ll be in camouflage, so you can’t see him, but he’ll be there.
Norm and Norma Nathan will be watching from the great gossip column in the sky.
Norman the Lunatic, back to his asylum , his wrestling days long gone, will beg to watch the game just like Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.
Even Greg Norman will take a break from winemaking to see what a champion looks like.
Today, the Battle of Hastings will be replayed just a few days shy of its 942nd anniversary and, then as now, the Angles will be defeated and subjected to 1,056 years of subjugation minimum
Watch out Angles, the Normans are coming and it's Hastings all over again.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE ALDS.
Thursday, September 25
Announcement
It's time for Jose Melendez's KEYS TO THE GAME.
Jose has suspended KEYS TO THE GAME in order to focus on fixing the U.S. financial crisis. Now, more than ever, we need to come together and hit the economy with a chair, perhaps several times.
I'm Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
For more of the same visit http://keystothegame.blogspot.com
Jose has suspended KEYS TO THE GAME in order to focus on fixing the U.S. financial crisis. Now, more than ever, we need to come together and hit the economy with a chair, perhaps several times.
I'm Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
For more of the same visit http://keystothegame.blogspot.com
Tuesday, September 23
Our Competitive Advantage
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
This seems like as good a time as any for Jose to point out the one small concern he has about this team: They may not be very good.
It’s an odd thing to say right now as the Sox stand with 91 wins, just one victory or Yankee loss away from clinching a playoff birth, but Jose really wonders. What exactly is this team’s competitive advantage? It’s certainly not the offense. Sure, the Sox have some guys at the middle of the lineup who can mash, but we also have a bottom of the lineup that includes a too old Varitek, a suddenly too young Lowrie and a too never very good Mark Kotsay-Hey Kid. (Note: Sarcasm.)
The relief pitching? It’s fine Jose supposes. Papelbon is still picking up saves for the most part, but somehow he seems a little unsteady. Like a drunk working the high iron, he never looks good but he always hangs on. Of course, when a guy on the high iron doesn’t hang on it’s messy. The same holds true for Paps. Oki’s been back on track and Masterson’s been good, but can they compare to the young guns in Tampa or the man from Anaheim who rendered Jose’s Bobby Thigpen card even more worthless? (Note: Jose traded a Lou Whitaker card for that Thigpen card the year Thigpen set the save record. In related news, did you know that Jose was once president of Lehman Brothers?) That leaves us with the starting pitching. This should be the strong point. Beckett, Lester and Dice. That’s a pretty good threesome. It’s like Garnett, Pierce and Allen, but without the foul stench of Connecticut. (Note: Just kidding, Jose is indifferent to Connecticut. By the way is Connect Four the official state game of Connecticut? It should be. And why is the second “C” in Connecticut silent? Jose bets it is for insurance reasons.) But how confident are you about Dice’s ability to not throw 150 pitches in the first three innings of a big game? And Beckett hasn’t looked like himself. And Lester? Jose is good with Lester. Lester is easily the best ventriloquist dummy of all time, well, after Franklin and Gabbo.
So maybe our competitive advantage is at manager. Tito is probably the best in the game right now. Jose thinks we should consider putting him in charge of the $700 billion bailout, since he’s already managed Manny Ramirez a.k.a. the $160 million bailout. The only problem is that his competition will be pretty good too. Scioscia has recovered nicely from his radiation poisoning in Springfield to emerge as a first rate skipper, Joe Maddon is a genius with his Tina Fey glasses and Ozzie Guillen… okay Ozzie’s sort of nuts.
So where does that leave us? It leaves us relying on Wally the Green Monster. Can you name the Tampa mascot or Chicago’s? The Angels have that monkey, but Jose has seen a bunch of monkeys up close in the last year, and they don’t seem so tough. As long as Korean tourists don’t give them any cookies, they’re generally not a problem. If Jose was going to take a bush animal for his mascot he would have gotten a hippo. Those things are scary. If the Angels had a hippo for a mascot, Jose would worry.
Anyway, Jose at least hopes that the mascot is our advantage or else he is going to be spending the next few weeks comparing and contrasting park organists and ushers in search of that one little advantage that will make the 2008 Sox special.
2. Jose has a new friend. He thinks we might be BFFs. His name is Justin… Justin Masterson. He will probably be the best man at Jose’s wedding. Okay Jose’s not engaged or anything, but at the very least, Justin will probably come over to watch WrestleMania.
It’s funny that Jose and Justin became friends so quickly. Jose usually takes time to build up friendships. Half of his friends are people he’s known since kindergarten. The other half are folks he’s known since college. The third half are people who are not great at math. Jose becomes friendly with people fast but he takes his time becoming friends. (Note: No he doesn’t.) But with Justin it was somehow different. The friendship was almost instantaneous. Jose invited Justin to become his friend, and Justin agreed.
It’s probably that they have so much in common. Justin’s favorite book is The Bible and Jose owns a Bible. It’s somewhere. Justin loves Jesus and Jose really likes Jesus. Justin likes to quote Virgil and Jose once saw Virgil with Ted DiBiase at the old Boston Garden. Justin is a right-handed pitcher and Jose often uses his right hand to pour from a pitcher. Justin loves Adam Sandler movies and Jose… well, there’s no link on that one.
The point is that we’re now excellent good friends, like Hamlet and Rosencrantz except without the Justin having Jose killed.
And now that we’re friends on Facebook, we will probably hang out a lot and get beers and jalapeño poppers. Unless, of course, Justin decides, based on this piece, that Jose is stalker… which he’s not. Seriously. Stalking seems like a lot of work and Jose just doesn’t have that kind of stick-to-itiveness.
If you’re worried, just ask Jose’s old BFF Curt Euro. He’ll tell you that Jose had almost nothing to do with his season and perhaps career ending injury. It was completely Euro’s fault for not tapping out of that hammerlock.
3. Jose is glad that DJ Dru got an epidural; Jose is not a big believer in this natural childbirth crap. But now that he’s done giving birth, can Dru please get back into the line up? Jose knows that maternity leave is normally three months and all, but that’s not really going to work this time. And the Kotsay-Hey kid will probably make an excellent wet nurse. (Note: Actually, he probably won’t, not if his mammary glands are anywhere near as dry as his bat.)
I’m Jose Melendez. and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
This seems like as good a time as any for Jose to point out the one small concern he has about this team: They may not be very good.
It’s an odd thing to say right now as the Sox stand with 91 wins, just one victory or Yankee loss away from clinching a playoff birth, but Jose really wonders. What exactly is this team’s competitive advantage? It’s certainly not the offense. Sure, the Sox have some guys at the middle of the lineup who can mash, but we also have a bottom of the lineup that includes a too old Varitek, a suddenly too young Lowrie and a too never very good Mark Kotsay-Hey Kid. (Note: Sarcasm.)
The relief pitching? It’s fine Jose supposes. Papelbon is still picking up saves for the most part, but somehow he seems a little unsteady. Like a drunk working the high iron, he never looks good but he always hangs on. Of course, when a guy on the high iron doesn’t hang on it’s messy. The same holds true for Paps. Oki’s been back on track and Masterson’s been good, but can they compare to the young guns in Tampa or the man from Anaheim who rendered Jose’s Bobby Thigpen card even more worthless? (Note: Jose traded a Lou Whitaker card for that Thigpen card the year Thigpen set the save record. In related news, did you know that Jose was once president of Lehman Brothers?) That leaves us with the starting pitching. This should be the strong point. Beckett, Lester and Dice. That’s a pretty good threesome. It’s like Garnett, Pierce and Allen, but without the foul stench of Connecticut. (Note: Just kidding, Jose is indifferent to Connecticut. By the way is Connect Four the official state game of Connecticut? It should be. And why is the second “C” in Connecticut silent? Jose bets it is for insurance reasons.) But how confident are you about Dice’s ability to not throw 150 pitches in the first three innings of a big game? And Beckett hasn’t looked like himself. And Lester? Jose is good with Lester. Lester is easily the best ventriloquist dummy of all time, well, after Franklin and Gabbo.
So maybe our competitive advantage is at manager. Tito is probably the best in the game right now. Jose thinks we should consider putting him in charge of the $700 billion bailout, since he’s already managed Manny Ramirez a.k.a. the $160 million bailout. The only problem is that his competition will be pretty good too. Scioscia has recovered nicely from his radiation poisoning in Springfield to emerge as a first rate skipper, Joe Maddon is a genius with his Tina Fey glasses and Ozzie Guillen… okay Ozzie’s sort of nuts.
So where does that leave us? It leaves us relying on Wally the Green Monster. Can you name the Tampa mascot or Chicago’s? The Angels have that monkey, but Jose has seen a bunch of monkeys up close in the last year, and they don’t seem so tough. As long as Korean tourists don’t give them any cookies, they’re generally not a problem. If Jose was going to take a bush animal for his mascot he would have gotten a hippo. Those things are scary. If the Angels had a hippo for a mascot, Jose would worry.
Anyway, Jose at least hopes that the mascot is our advantage or else he is going to be spending the next few weeks comparing and contrasting park organists and ushers in search of that one little advantage that will make the 2008 Sox special.
2. Jose has a new friend. He thinks we might be BFFs. His name is Justin… Justin Masterson. He will probably be the best man at Jose’s wedding. Okay Jose’s not engaged or anything, but at the very least, Justin will probably come over to watch WrestleMania.
It’s funny that Jose and Justin became friends so quickly. Jose usually takes time to build up friendships. Half of his friends are people he’s known since kindergarten. The other half are folks he’s known since college. The third half are people who are not great at math. Jose becomes friendly with people fast but he takes his time becoming friends. (Note: No he doesn’t.) But with Justin it was somehow different. The friendship was almost instantaneous. Jose invited Justin to become his friend, and Justin agreed.
It’s probably that they have so much in common. Justin’s favorite book is The Bible and Jose owns a Bible. It’s somewhere. Justin loves Jesus and Jose really likes Jesus. Justin likes to quote Virgil and Jose once saw Virgil with Ted DiBiase at the old Boston Garden. Justin is a right-handed pitcher and Jose often uses his right hand to pour from a pitcher. Justin loves Adam Sandler movies and Jose… well, there’s no link on that one.
The point is that we’re now excellent good friends, like Hamlet and Rosencrantz except without the Justin having Jose killed.
And now that we’re friends on Facebook, we will probably hang out a lot and get beers and jalapeño poppers. Unless, of course, Justin decides, based on this piece, that Jose is stalker… which he’s not. Seriously. Stalking seems like a lot of work and Jose just doesn’t have that kind of stick-to-itiveness.
If you’re worried, just ask Jose’s old BFF Curt Euro. He’ll tell you that Jose had almost nothing to do with his season and perhaps career ending injury. It was completely Euro’s fault for not tapping out of that hammerlock.
3. Jose is glad that DJ Dru got an epidural; Jose is not a big believer in this natural childbirth crap. But now that he’s done giving birth, can Dru please get back into the line up? Jose knows that maternity leave is normally three months and all, but that’s not really going to work this time. And the Kotsay-Hey kid will probably make an excellent wet nurse. (Note: Actually, he probably won’t, not if his mammary glands are anywhere near as dry as his bat.)
I’m Jose Melendez. and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Monday, September 22
Celebrate Good times? Come on.
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Lost amid the hubbub of the Yankee Stadium closing is the news that the Red Sox will clinch their fifth playoff birth in six years tonight. Jose is excited about this because it means an insane celebration that will make Jose love this team.
But what if that doesn’t happen?
What if this group is so much more professional and serious than teams past that they refuse to cut loose? Millar is gone, Manny is gone, Pedro is gone, Damon is gone. Hell, we’re down to one Jew, so seeing anyone dance the Hora is unlikely. (Note: Who would lift the chairs?) All that we have no is Papelbon who, in fairness, may be crazy enough to compensate for all of them. But one lunatic does not an asylum make. Jose’s fear is that Papelbon will, like last year, celebrate by stripping down to his jockstrap, but that Sean Casey will quickly hand him a towel and tell him “Put on some God damn pants and quick making an ass of yourself.”
Will DJ Dru just celebrate with an understated fist pump? Will Mike Lowell party with a glass of chilled Chablis? Perhaps Dice and Oki will do nothing more than offer a simple bow. Maybe Mark Kotsay will do…well, whatever it is that Mark Kotsay does.
Frankly, Jose is worried. This is not the gang of idiots, so perhaps they need a more structured way to celebrate. So Jose will step in and offer a suggestion for a fun yet responsible way to celebrate.
Here’s what Jose has come up with: An arcade party at the Dream Machine in the Watertown Mall followed by pizza at Papa Gino’s. Jose knows this may sound like it lacks in drama, but trust him, it’s super fun. Jose did this for his birthday like five years. For an hour you can play all the video games you want for free. Like Curt Euro isn’t going to be in to that? Also, as a plus, there’s an Old Country Buffet there, so Mike Timlin will be good. On the down side, it seems absolutely possible that DJ Dru could injure himself playing skee ball.
2. Yankee Stadium is not the only New York institution to fold this week. The musical Rent also left Broadway after a 12-year run. Despite the fact that the 5,124 performances of Rent, greatly exceeds the number of games played since this Yankee Stadium finished construction in 1976, the close of Rent has not gotten nearly the same press attention. Thus, Jose presents a list of reasons why the closing of Rent is more important than the closing of Yankee Stadium.
Still, there is a certain appropriateness to the appellation. The big, ugly concrete bowl does look like something that a fat alcoholic might have built. (Note: Actually, given that it was built by contractors in New York, it probably was built by a fat alcoholic.)
No, the architecture, the aesthetics were never what made Yankee Stadium great. What made it great, what allowed it to transcend its structural mediocrity, were the events that transpired there: A-Rod’s slap, Beckett’s gem, D battery night. There are probably some good things that happened to the Yankees there too, but they were so long ago that Jose can’t really remember them.
By contrast, Fenway Park, despite its innumerable flaws, is remarkable for what it is, an uncomfortable yet quirky gem. If Fenway is the Eiffel Tower, an elegant proof of its own importance, Yankee Stadium is Tokyo Tower, a gaudy affront to elegance made important only by its own self-importance. If Fenway is a Pollock painting, discordant yet somehow lovely, Yankee Stadium is a work by Thomas Kinkade “Painter of Light,” widely liked while completely lacking in merit.
It will be easy for critics to say that Jose is just bashing New York, and that is certainly the case. But, Jose would say the same thing about the Boston Garden. It was a dump that was important for what happened there, not for what it was. In that regard, perhaps Yankee Stadium is more like the 99 Restaurant in Charlestown. It’s not famous because it’s beautiful or interesting but because some bad, bad stuff went down there.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Lost amid the hubbub of the Yankee Stadium closing is the news that the Red Sox will clinch their fifth playoff birth in six years tonight. Jose is excited about this because it means an insane celebration that will make Jose love this team.
But what if that doesn’t happen?
What if this group is so much more professional and serious than teams past that they refuse to cut loose? Millar is gone, Manny is gone, Pedro is gone, Damon is gone. Hell, we’re down to one Jew, so seeing anyone dance the Hora is unlikely. (Note: Who would lift the chairs?) All that we have no is Papelbon who, in fairness, may be crazy enough to compensate for all of them. But one lunatic does not an asylum make. Jose’s fear is that Papelbon will, like last year, celebrate by stripping down to his jockstrap, but that Sean Casey will quickly hand him a towel and tell him “Put on some God damn pants and quick making an ass of yourself.”
Will DJ Dru just celebrate with an understated fist pump? Will Mike Lowell party with a glass of chilled Chablis? Perhaps Dice and Oki will do nothing more than offer a simple bow. Maybe Mark Kotsay will do…well, whatever it is that Mark Kotsay does.
Frankly, Jose is worried. This is not the gang of idiots, so perhaps they need a more structured way to celebrate. So Jose will step in and offer a suggestion for a fun yet responsible way to celebrate.
Here’s what Jose has come up with: An arcade party at the Dream Machine in the Watertown Mall followed by pizza at Papa Gino’s. Jose knows this may sound like it lacks in drama, but trust him, it’s super fun. Jose did this for his birthday like five years. For an hour you can play all the video games you want for free. Like Curt Euro isn’t going to be in to that? Also, as a plus, there’s an Old Country Buffet there, so Mike Timlin will be good. On the down side, it seems absolutely possible that DJ Dru could injure himself playing skee ball.
2. Yankee Stadium is not the only New York institution to fold this week. The musical Rent also left Broadway after a 12-year run. Despite the fact that the 5,124 performances of Rent, greatly exceeds the number of games played since this Yankee Stadium finished construction in 1976, the close of Rent has not gotten nearly the same press attention. Thus, Jose presents a list of reasons why the closing of Rent is more important than the closing of Yankee Stadium.
- Rent is not being replaced with a new, $1.3 billion publicly funded musical.
- Rent only made Jose want to slit his wrists on one occasion in 1999. Events in Yankee Stadium made Jose want to slit his wrists annually from 1995-2003.
- While Rent includes many long annoying songs, it has never featured a 45-minute rendition of God Bless America.
- Amazingly, far less slapping in Rent.
- If a 12-year-old kid, had interrupted a performance of Rent, he would not have been put on television and given really great seats to the next performance.
- In Rent, the rich guys are the villains.
- If the star of Rent’s vocal repertoire can barely reach one octave, he is not praised for his amazing range.
- Even though Rent is a remake of an old opera called La Boheme, people don’t count performances of La Boheme in Rent’s run. Yet, people do count games at the old Yankee Stadium in the new Yankee Stadium’s run.
- Rent addresses many adult and disturbing issues, but nothing as disturbing or perverse as Wade Boggs on horseback.
Still, there is a certain appropriateness to the appellation. The big, ugly concrete bowl does look like something that a fat alcoholic might have built. (Note: Actually, given that it was built by contractors in New York, it probably was built by a fat alcoholic.)
No, the architecture, the aesthetics were never what made Yankee Stadium great. What made it great, what allowed it to transcend its structural mediocrity, were the events that transpired there: A-Rod’s slap, Beckett’s gem, D battery night. There are probably some good things that happened to the Yankees there too, but they were so long ago that Jose can’t really remember them.
By contrast, Fenway Park, despite its innumerable flaws, is remarkable for what it is, an uncomfortable yet quirky gem. If Fenway is the Eiffel Tower, an elegant proof of its own importance, Yankee Stadium is Tokyo Tower, a gaudy affront to elegance made important only by its own self-importance. If Fenway is a Pollock painting, discordant yet somehow lovely, Yankee Stadium is a work by Thomas Kinkade “Painter of Light,” widely liked while completely lacking in merit.
It will be easy for critics to say that Jose is just bashing New York, and that is certainly the case. But, Jose would say the same thing about the Boston Garden. It was a dump that was important for what happened there, not for what it was. In that regard, perhaps Yankee Stadium is more like the 99 Restaurant in Charlestown. It’s not famous because it’s beautiful or interesting but because some bad, bad stuff went down there.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Tuesday, September 16
Rays Disappear Over Horizon
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Jose will be the first to admit that his lists of good and evil Rays were not his best effort. He somehow left Ray Borque off of the good list and James Earl and Rachel Ray off of the evil list. No, it was not a Tour de Force or even a Tour de France. It was more of a Tour de Farce. On the other hand, they were substantially better than his lists of the top ten good and evil Jays, which he meant to write for the Blue Jays series. (Note: Ray Jay Johnson would have been on both lists). Still, a correction is in order, and Jose has made it. Corrections of this correction will come tomorrow or possibly never
Now that the self-flagellation is over, Jose can get on to the business of flagellating others. Let’s try putting a cap on the Rays amazing season. Now that the Rays are tied with the Sox and are ready to fall into second, Jose feels like he needs a good headline to eulogize (note: euthanize?) their run. The leaders were:
Like Namesake, Rays think of Stay Puft, Have Problems
Like Ray Charles, Tampa Rays Arrested by Boston
You can call them Ray, and you can call them Jay, but you can’t call them champs.
But eventually Rays Disappear Over Horizon won for its sheer simplicity.
Still, we shouldn’t dismiss what the Rays have accomplished. Even if they ultimately finish in second place, they laid a stage for others to follow.
Before this season who would have believed that a loser from a small city, with no real history of accomplishment, stupid looking glasses and an association with people with absurd names like Aubrey, Midre and Delmon could ever hope to achieve success? And now those qualifications can make one a candidate for Vice President of these United States.
Truly, the Rays were the Mouse that Roared. You know, The Mouse that Roared don’t you? It’s a play and Peter Sellars movie about a tiny country, Grand Fenwick, which invades the U.S. in response to a trademark infringement in hopes of getting massive reparations. During the invasion of New York by chain mail clad long bowman, which is presumed to be a joke, Grand Fenwick captures the dreaded Q-Bomb making it a global super power. This is basically what Tampax Bay did. All they wanted was revenue sharing, but wholly by mistake, they ended up a feared and powerful team. Of course the Mouse that Roared was fiction and ended with the U.S. paying tribute to the medieval duchy. In reality, Grand Fenwick would have been nuked and overall destroyed. Since the Tampax Bay Rays are a true story and not fiction, that is pretty much where we are headed.
Nevertheless, kudos to the Rays on an extraordinary season, just next time, try not to think of the Stay Puft Marshmallow man.
2. According to the Globe’s Nick Cafardo, following a curiously short start yesterday Scott “Disputed Province of” Kazmir was “extolling the virtues of finishing first.”
Is anyone surprised in the least that a man who couldn’t last for as long as was necessary last night was extolling the virtues of finishing first? Mrs. Disputed Province of Kazmir must be so sad.
3.The Globe reported today that Mike Lowell is suffering from a partially torn hip labrum that may well require surgery after the season.
Some readers might be surprised to hear this, given Lowell’s home run yesterday, but Jose is not shocked in the least. Of course, Lowell is swinging hard, of course he is playing nearly every day because… get ready for this… the hip labrum does not exist.
Saying that Lowell has a torn hip labrum is like saying that Lowell has a broken funny bone and will need surgery on it in the off-season. (Note: Theo Epstein may actually have a broken funny bone.) It’s a joke, a clever way of distracting attention from the real problem, that he’s just not hitting that well.
This is all a very baseball thing to do, inventing a body part to injure. Take the rotator cuff. Had anyone ever heard of the rotator cuff before pitchers started throwing in the high 90s? Of course not. But suddenly there are all of these should be stud pitchers who throw 98 and still can’t get anyone out. How can that be? It must be an injury, but the MRI doesn’t show anything? Ah, it must be the rotator cuff.
Besides, just as there is no bone that makes you funny, there is no labrum that makes you hip. Hip, as everyone knows, resided in the fingers.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Jose will be the first to admit that his lists of good and evil Rays were not his best effort. He somehow left Ray Borque off of the good list and James Earl and Rachel Ray off of the evil list. No, it was not a Tour de Force or even a Tour de France. It was more of a Tour de Farce. On the other hand, they were substantially better than his lists of the top ten good and evil Jays, which he meant to write for the Blue Jays series. (Note: Ray Jay Johnson would have been on both lists). Still, a correction is in order, and Jose has made it. Corrections of this correction will come tomorrow or possibly never
Now that the self-flagellation is over, Jose can get on to the business of flagellating others. Let’s try putting a cap on the Rays amazing season. Now that the Rays are tied with the Sox and are ready to fall into second, Jose feels like he needs a good headline to eulogize (note: euthanize?) their run. The leaders were:
Like Namesake, Rays think of Stay Puft, Have Problems
Like Ray Charles, Tampa Rays Arrested by Boston
You can call them Ray, and you can call them Jay, but you can’t call them champs.
But eventually Rays Disappear Over Horizon won for its sheer simplicity.
Still, we shouldn’t dismiss what the Rays have accomplished. Even if they ultimately finish in second place, they laid a stage for others to follow.
Before this season who would have believed that a loser from a small city, with no real history of accomplishment, stupid looking glasses and an association with people with absurd names like Aubrey, Midre and Delmon could ever hope to achieve success? And now those qualifications can make one a candidate for Vice President of these United States.
Truly, the Rays were the Mouse that Roared. You know, The Mouse that Roared don’t you? It’s a play and Peter Sellars movie about a tiny country, Grand Fenwick, which invades the U.S. in response to a trademark infringement in hopes of getting massive reparations. During the invasion of New York by chain mail clad long bowman, which is presumed to be a joke, Grand Fenwick captures the dreaded Q-Bomb making it a global super power. This is basically what Tampax Bay did. All they wanted was revenue sharing, but wholly by mistake, they ended up a feared and powerful team. Of course the Mouse that Roared was fiction and ended with the U.S. paying tribute to the medieval duchy. In reality, Grand Fenwick would have been nuked and overall destroyed. Since the Tampax Bay Rays are a true story and not fiction, that is pretty much where we are headed.
Nevertheless, kudos to the Rays on an extraordinary season, just next time, try not to think of the Stay Puft Marshmallow man.
2. According to the Globe’s Nick Cafardo, following a curiously short start yesterday Scott “Disputed Province of” Kazmir was “extolling the virtues of finishing first.”
Is anyone surprised in the least that a man who couldn’t last for as long as was necessary last night was extolling the virtues of finishing first? Mrs. Disputed Province of Kazmir must be so sad.
3.The Globe reported today that Mike Lowell is suffering from a partially torn hip labrum that may well require surgery after the season.
Some readers might be surprised to hear this, given Lowell’s home run yesterday, but Jose is not shocked in the least. Of course, Lowell is swinging hard, of course he is playing nearly every day because… get ready for this… the hip labrum does not exist.
Saying that Lowell has a torn hip labrum is like saying that Lowell has a broken funny bone and will need surgery on it in the off-season. (Note: Theo Epstein may actually have a broken funny bone.) It’s a joke, a clever way of distracting attention from the real problem, that he’s just not hitting that well.
This is all a very baseball thing to do, inventing a body part to injure. Take the rotator cuff. Had anyone ever heard of the rotator cuff before pitchers started throwing in the high 90s? Of course not. But suddenly there are all of these should be stud pitchers who throw 98 and still can’t get anyone out. How can that be? It must be an injury, but the MRI doesn’t show anything? Ah, it must be the rotator cuff.
Besides, just as there is no bone that makes you funny, there is no labrum that makes you hip. Hip, as everyone knows, resided in the fingers.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Wednesday, September 10
Mislocation, mislocation, mislocation
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. The Red Sox lost to the Rays last night and blew a chance to take over first place in the AL East because of mislocation. Papelbon said so. It wasn’t Dice K’s control problems, or Tek’s bat or plain old bad luck. It was mislocation plain and not so simple.
Jose thought this excuse was, to be honest, some pretty weak scotch. For starters, he was pretty sure that “mislocate” is not actually a word. But he wanted to cut Papelbon some slack, because, while the man can pitch, he is just not that bright, so Jose tried to think what he could possibly have meant.
At first, Jose thought that perhaps Paps had meant “dislocation.” This got Jose really concerned, because if he were dislocating his pitches, it would suggest that the shoulder strengthening routine had not been a success and his health was in jeopardy. Then Jose thought that maybe Paps meant “misplaced.” Jose could see how misplacing pitches could be a problem.
He can imagine Paps telling his wife “Honey, I misplaced my fastball, do you remember where I left it? I already looked on the night stand.”
This is exactly what happened to Rod Beck… also drugs.
But then Jose decided he would actually look up mislocate, and much to his surprise it appears to be a more or less real word. According to dictionary.com, it means either “misplace,” which Jose has already covered or “to specify a wrong location for.” Example “to mislocate the source of the Nile.”
This sounds a lot to Jose like Paps is blaming the umpires, as in “That ump mislocated that pitch and called it a ball.” This strikes Jose as very foolish and unnecessarily adversarial.
Of course, the problem may have nothing to do with the umps or even Papelbon and everything to do with Dan Johnson mislocating the ball into the rightfield bleachers.
2. Before Jose gets to the top ten evil Rays, Jose needs to point out the glaring omission of Ray Borque from the good list. Adding Ray to the good list at two, should, in theory, bump number ten, Allan Ray, off of the list, and yet it bumps number 7, Ray Babbitt instead. Funny world.
Top Ten Evil Rays
3. According to the Boston Globe, David Ortiz showed the media a film of closer Jonathan Paplebon dancing in a blonde wig and dress to Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” and reenacting the closing scene of Dirty Dancing with a male classmate. The films were made when Paplebon was in high school.
This, of course, solves the mystery of how Paplebon was able to spring into Varitek’s arms with such grace following the last out of the 2007 World Series. Those guys must have spent a ton of time in the lake working on the lift.
This also suggests that somewhere, there is probably a video of Kevin Millar reenacting scenes from Roadhouse.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. The Red Sox lost to the Rays last night and blew a chance to take over first place in the AL East because of mislocation. Papelbon said so. It wasn’t Dice K’s control problems, or Tek’s bat or plain old bad luck. It was mislocation plain and not so simple.
Jose thought this excuse was, to be honest, some pretty weak scotch. For starters, he was pretty sure that “mislocate” is not actually a word. But he wanted to cut Papelbon some slack, because, while the man can pitch, he is just not that bright, so Jose tried to think what he could possibly have meant.
At first, Jose thought that perhaps Paps had meant “dislocation.” This got Jose really concerned, because if he were dislocating his pitches, it would suggest that the shoulder strengthening routine had not been a success and his health was in jeopardy. Then Jose thought that maybe Paps meant “misplaced.” Jose could see how misplacing pitches could be a problem.
He can imagine Paps telling his wife “Honey, I misplaced my fastball, do you remember where I left it? I already looked on the night stand.”
This is exactly what happened to Rod Beck… also drugs.
But then Jose decided he would actually look up mislocate, and much to his surprise it appears to be a more or less real word. According to dictionary.com, it means either “misplace,” which Jose has already covered or “to specify a wrong location for.” Example “to mislocate the source of the Nile.”
This sounds a lot to Jose like Paps is blaming the umpires, as in “That ump mislocated that pitch and called it a ball.” This strikes Jose as very foolish and unnecessarily adversarial.
Of course, the problem may have nothing to do with the umps or even Papelbon and everything to do with Dan Johnson mislocating the ball into the rightfield bleachers.
2. Before Jose gets to the top ten evil Rays, Jose needs to point out the glaring omission of Ray Borque from the good list. Adding Ray to the good list at two, should, in theory, bump number ten, Allan Ray, off of the list, and yet it bumps number 7, Ray Babbitt instead. Funny world.
Top Ten Evil Rays
1. Ray Knight—Also, Mookie Wilson will be number one on the list of top ten evil Mookies.
2. Ray Romano—Not everyone loves him.
3. Ray Leonard—Olympic gold medalist, boxing legend, beloved public figure, undeserving winner of a fight against Hagler.
4. Ray Berry—Yes he took the Pats to their first Super Bowl, but he also presided over a team that was basically a drug den, started Tony Eason over Doug Flutie and called fake punts based on dreams. Okay, the last one sounds like something Jose would do, but that makes it even more wrong.
5. Ray, Gamma—Those things messed up Bruce Banner bad.
6. Re (Scrabble Word/Solfeggio note)—This is just a cheap BS Scrabble word
7. Sugar Ray—It’s a band but it sounds like a guy. That is so misleading
8. Ray Burr—He has mislead us all into thinking that our justice system works well
9. Rep. Ray LaHood—He’s a Republican and Jose is feeling very partisan these days.
10. Famous Ray—You know, Jose is starting to think that all of those New York Pizza joints may not be owned by the same guy.
3. According to the Boston Globe, David Ortiz showed the media a film of closer Jonathan Paplebon dancing in a blonde wig and dress to Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” and reenacting the closing scene of Dirty Dancing with a male classmate. The films were made when Paplebon was in high school.
This, of course, solves the mystery of how Paplebon was able to spring into Varitek’s arms with such grace following the last out of the 2007 World Series. Those guys must have spent a ton of time in the lake working on the lift.
This also suggests that somewhere, there is probably a video of Kevin Millar reenacting scenes from Roadhouse.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Monday, September 8
All History's Been Building to This
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Careful readers of KEYS may have noticed a distinct lack of intensity in Jose’s Yankees columns this year. The standard bile-laced invectives have been curiously absent, as have the demand that all identify “Whose side are you on.”
The reason, of course, is that Jose has been saving the anger and invective for the series beginning today with the ancient and hated rival the Tampax Bay Rays.
Already, Jose is slipping on his “Kazmir Sucks” shirt, and placing orders for ones that read, “Crawford is a Little Bitch,” and “Pena Sucks Hinske.”(Note: Those guys are traitors, damn dirty traitors. How can you leave the Red Sox and go to the Rays? It’s like defecting from Paraguay to Uruguay in the War of the Triple Alliance.)
So to get fired up Jose is going to review some of the great-moments in the Rays-Red Sox rivalry.
September 6, 2000: Pedro Martinez hits ham ‘n’ egger Gerald Williams on his fourth pitch of the evening, prompting Williams to charge the mound. A cowed Martinez then shows his fear by refusing to hit any of the next 24 batters, or let them hit him.
Opening Day 2003: Rays beat Red Sox on walkoff—In what remains the greatest win in Rays history, the then Devil Rays come back on opening day to beat the Red Sox, as Chad Fox blows a save. Tampax starter Joe Kennedy is so emotional that he dies four years later.
March 27, 2006: Julian Tavarez cold cocks a sliding Joey Gathright at home plate in an exhibition game, moving him past “Rockin” Robbie Simms on the list of Massachusetts’ greatest pugilists.
Can’t you feel the history? Can’t you smell the animosity? Screw Fred McGriff! Wade Boggs is a traitor! It’s like Istanbul or was it Constantinople. It’s like Salonika or is it Thessaloniki? This rivalry is where history ends, where possibility clashes with reality. It’s Rays-Red Sox. And this time, it counts.
2. Sine the Rays have enjoyed such wonderful benefits from abandoning the devil and embracing the Ray, Jose thought it would be nice to pay tribute to all of the great Rays by cracking out the old, Top 10 good and evil bit. Today, the Top Ten Good Rays of all time, later this week, the bad
For instance, let’s say you won the lottery and someone asks you “Are you ok?” You’re going to answer “no” because, you’re not ok. You’re awesome. And Jose can only assume that the same thing is true of David Ortiz.
In related news, Jose is pretty sure that when they say Tom Brady has suffered a catastrophic knee injury, they mean that it’s not that bad and therefore will catastrophic for Patriots opponents.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Careful readers of KEYS may have noticed a distinct lack of intensity in Jose’s Yankees columns this year. The standard bile-laced invectives have been curiously absent, as have the demand that all identify “Whose side are you on.”
The reason, of course, is that Jose has been saving the anger and invective for the series beginning today with the ancient and hated rival the Tampax Bay Rays.
Already, Jose is slipping on his “Kazmir Sucks” shirt, and placing orders for ones that read, “Crawford is a Little Bitch,” and “Pena Sucks Hinske.”(Note: Those guys are traitors, damn dirty traitors. How can you leave the Red Sox and go to the Rays? It’s like defecting from Paraguay to Uruguay in the War of the Triple Alliance.)
So to get fired up Jose is going to review some of the great-moments in the Rays-Red Sox rivalry.
September 6, 2000: Pedro Martinez hits ham ‘n’ egger Gerald Williams on his fourth pitch of the evening, prompting Williams to charge the mound. A cowed Martinez then shows his fear by refusing to hit any of the next 24 batters, or let them hit him.
Opening Day 2003: Rays beat Red Sox on walkoff—In what remains the greatest win in Rays history, the then Devil Rays come back on opening day to beat the Red Sox, as Chad Fox blows a save. Tampax starter Joe Kennedy is so emotional that he dies four years later.
March 27, 2006: Julian Tavarez cold cocks a sliding Joey Gathright at home plate in an exhibition game, moving him past “Rockin” Robbie Simms on the list of Massachusetts’ greatest pugilists.
Can’t you feel the history? Can’t you smell the animosity? Screw Fred McGriff! Wade Boggs is a traitor! It’s like Istanbul or was it Constantinople. It’s like Salonika or is it Thessaloniki? This rivalry is where history ends, where possibility clashes with reality. It’s Rays-Red Sox. And this time, it counts.
2. Sine the Rays have enjoyed such wonderful benefits from abandoning the devil and embracing the Ray, Jose thought it would be nice to pay tribute to all of the great Rays by cracking out the old, Top 10 good and evil bit. Today, the Top Ten Good Rays of all time, later this week, the bad
1. Ray Charles—Even if he did nothing else in his career, the man was in Blues Brothers. (Note: Ray is dead, when Stevie Wonder goes, who will continue the chain of blind black pianists who are awesome?)3. The Red Sox are at last getting healthy, with Mike Lowell, Sean Casey and St. Josh a Beckett returning to the team, and even DJ Dru talking about playing against the Rays. There is even good news on the Big Papi front as the designated hitter told the Globe “My Hand is Not OK.” Now, Jose knows what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “That sounds like bad news.” But you are totally wrong. Being not ok, doesn’t necessarily mean bad, it could mean really good.
2. Ray Robinson—Pound for pound the best ever… except for Julian Tavarez.
3. Ray, X—Much better than the old system of cutting the leg in half to see if it is broken.
4. Ray Allen—A champion! Also, number two on the top ten good Jesus list.
5. Ray Magliozzi—Leads Dane Cook in the race to be Arlington’s funniest person by 42,387 people
6. Ray Bradbury—Even in his futuristic novels, could not imagine the Rays in the playoffs.
7. Ray Babbitt—The man was a gambling genius!
8. Ray Jay Johnson—OK, Jose will be honest, he has no idea who this is, but he’s been mentioned on The Simpsons a few times. Of course, if Simpsons mentions were a good metric for skill, Steve Sax would be in the Hall of Fame.
9. Stevie Ray Vaughan—He died in a plane crash. That makes him the Corey Lidle of rock.
10. Allan Ray—Maybe the Celtics couldn’t be bothered to play Ray Allen and Allan Ray, together, but Jose will be damned if he misses the chance.
For instance, let’s say you won the lottery and someone asks you “Are you ok?” You’re going to answer “no” because, you’re not ok. You’re awesome. And Jose can only assume that the same thing is true of David Ortiz.
In related news, Jose is pretty sure that when they say Tom Brady has suffered a catastrophic knee injury, they mean that it’s not that bad and therefore will catastrophic for Patriots opponents.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Friday, September 5
Reforming MLB
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. 1978. NINETEEN SEVENTY EIGHT. ONE… NINE… SEVEN… EIGHT.
Isn’t that what we should be hearing from the
Come on guys, show some heart. It’s September, the Red Sox have a healthy lead on the Yankees; shouldn’t you guys be telling us how it’s 1978 all over again?
Please? It just doesn’t feel right without it. And it makes Jose worry that something terrible is going to happen. Jose needs you folks to tell him how the collapse is imminent, how Ron Guidry and Bucky Dent are coming to get us. Can’t you please tell Jose how Don Zimmer is going to ruin everything?
Jose knows, Jose knows. You don’t feel like you can, what with the Yankees being terrible and all, but don’t you worry what will happen if you don’t? Sure, everything COULD be fine. But will it? How do you know?
If you don’t start talking about 1978 soon, will the harvest ripen or will the locusts descend? Will we freeze in the winter or snuggle safe and secure? If you don’t start talking about it soon, Yankee Stadium may be razed to the ground. Don’t laugh; it could happen.
We don’t know, because every time the Red Sox are in playoff position at this time of year, and the Yankees aren’t, you guys start talking about 1978.
So please, for Jose, can you give it a try? Jose will get you started.
This is just like 1978.
2. When Jose went off to graduate school, the main reason he cited in these very pages was that he had simply run out of bullsh*t from his undergraduate days, and needed brand new bullsh*t to fill his intellectual gas tank. (Note: Does bullsh*t count as biodiesel?)
Three weeks in, Jose is happy to say that he is already topping off, squeezing the meter toward 00, if you will.
After just two weeks of studying global policy, Jose is prepared to offer a compelling vision of how Major League Baseball should be restructured in order to learn the essential lessons of the United Nations.
For starters, it should be apparent to anyone now, that the governing structure of baseball does not reflect the underlying power dynamic in meaningful way. One team one vote on League decisions? That’s crazy talk. What we need is a “Security Council” led by the five most powerful teams (note: Red Sox, Yankees, Cubs, Dodgers and Cardinals) who can take the lead in deciding for everyone what is best for the game. Of course, it is possible, that in 30 years the Red Sox might recognize the White Sox as the legitimate representatives of
“But what about the small market teams?” fans in
Well, you guys can elect a member from each of the six divisions who will get to join the Security Council, where your representative will look pretty and fetch coffee. Occasionally, they will be allowed to nod their head in agreement or say “Good idea.”
In addition, it’s not like we are going to get rid of the old MLB Board of Governors, or whatever it’s called. We’ll just strip it of all its responsibility. Do not worry; there will still be complementary lobster tails at meetings. Also, you can play a role in determining what teams get recognized as parts of the Major Leagues. For instance, if the Durham Bulls want to secede from the Rays and form their own major league club, you would get to vote on that. Of course, if you vote no, the Red Sox will just recognize the Bulls anyway, thereby stripping the Rays of a valuable source of talent. On the downside, this might prompt the Yankees to lay claim to the entire Cincinnati Reds outfield. But do not worry if you are a Reds fan. Jose is pretty sure Dick Cheney wants to give the Reds NATO membership, which is good, because Jose is absolutely prepared to fight and die to defend Corey Patterson.
But governance is not enough. Major League Baseball needs strong and vital institutions as well. They need organizations to coordinate trading policy, labor policy and environmental issues leading to the decline of the ash bat. (Note: Can the Red Sox bring that absurd Nady/Marte trade before the WTO? That’s got to violate a dumping treaty or something, doesn’t it?) Also, someone needs to order the lobster tails. To manage this formidable bureaucracy, Jose proposes that the Office of the Commissioner be abolished and replaced by the office of the Secretary General of Baseball, whose primary qualification be that he has an awesome name. (Note: Every UN Secretary General has had a cool name except Kurt Waldheim. U Thant may be the coolest name ever.) While this would make Bud Selig ineligible for the office, past commissioners like Kennesaw Mountain Landis and Bowie Kuhn would have been eligible. Jose’s recommendation for Secretary General would be Ugueth Urtain Urbina. Sure he is a dangerous criminal, but so was Kurt Waldheim. The Secretary General would be in charge of a set of bureaucracies called The Secretariat, which, Jose imagines, would be staffed entirely by horses.
Another nice thing about the new system is that baseball could implement all sorts of important rules and then not enforce them. Take the new instant replay policy. Under Jose’s proposal, if there was a home run in question, umpires could simply refuse to call it “a home run in question,” thereby making it ineligible for review… sort of… like… now.
Obviously the system is not perfect, but Jose thinks it is well worth a try. After all the United Nations has a decent track record at replacing failed Leagues.
3. Among the subjects Jose is studying this semester is statistics, and as a part of its curriculum, Jose is using a program called STATA to run various kinds of statistical analyses. The program is useful, Jose supposes, but it is also immensely frustrating. After two weeks of working with it, Jose has still not found the command to calculate slugging percentage. He won’t even talk about range factor.
Another problem is in Jose’s microeconomic theory class. In studying preference and consumer choice, Jose’s professor keeps talking about WARP, and Jose cannot, for the life of him figure out what Wins Above Replacement Player has to with anything. The best Jose can come up with is that if a player has a better WARP than a competitor, a general manager, as a consumer of baseball talent, would chose the player with the better WARP. That makes sense right?
Another thing that bothers Jose is that his economics professor keeps talking about Jacobian Matrices, which makes no sense to Jose. Jose had no idea that Jacoby Ellsbury was a mathematician, and it wouldn’t have made any sense for him to be in The Matrix. Of course, it didn’t make any sense for Cornell West to be in The Matrix either, and that didn’t stop him.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Monday, September 1
Vestigial Belts
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. It has come to Jose’s attention recently that baseball players are the only athletes in any major U.S. sport who wear belts. Jose thinks that football players may wear belts too, but he thinks those are built into their pants, so they don’t really count. What Jose is talking about is an honest to God, ass whippin’, Michael Huthcence-style autoerotic asphyxiation belt. Hutchence never could have killed himself with the belt in a pair of football pants. Even boxers, who are forbidden to hit below the belt, do not, technically, wear belts.
So baseball players are unique among American athletes in wearing a proper belt. The question, as always, is why?
The answer is clearly not “to keep their pants up.” A significant percentage of major leaguers are of sufficient girth that having their pants fall off is not an issue and they still wear belts. Another counterpoint to the “keep their pants up hypothesis” is Manny, who wore a belt and yet constantly seemed to have his pants falling off.
So Jose has come to a conclusion. The belt on baseball players is a vestigial structure dating back to when players needed them in the old days of baseball before nuclear science gave us the elastic waist. It is something left over from a distant past when it had use, like the appendix or Mike Timlin.
So, we have established that the belt on baseball players serves no purpose. This troubles Jose. It strikes him as wasteful. Isn’t there something that could be done?
Yes. Yes there is.
While attending a minor league game last week, Jose had an idea. He became frustrated with the fact that he could not tell which players were former major leaguers and which had yet to visit the show. And then it him… belts were the answer, and for once he was not talking about belts of scotch.
Baseball should take a cue from karate. Each player should wear a belt reflecting his highest level of baseball achievement. Little leaguers would wear white belts, high school players yellow belts and rookie leaguers orange belts. A ball gets a green belt, AA a blue belt and AAA players would wear brown belts. Only a major leaguer would have the honor and esteem of a black belt. Once in the majors, a player would get a degree for each All-Star Appearance. For instance, Scott Cooper would be a second-degree black belt.
Wait, scrap the whole idea. Jose is pretty sure that the karate equivalent of Scott Cooper is not a second degree black belt, but Daniel LaRusso before he met Mr. Miyagi.
2. As the Red Sox come down the stretch run, Jose has to confess that he feels remarkably confident despite the Sox having only a slim lead for the wild card and approximately three quarters of the team on the disabled list. Jose isn’t exactly sure why he feels confident, but he’s been thinking about it, and he has developed a theory.
Here’s what Jose’s come up with: Jose feels completely confident because the Red Sox now have Jonathan Van Every on the team.
At first Jose didn’t really feel that way, after all was there any evidence that Van Every would make a difference? Had he made a huge difference in AAA? Had he demonstrated any real aptitude for Major League Baseball? Was there any evidence that he was ready to succeed DJ Dru in right field right now should the need arise? After all, his experience was mostly in center and left, which is totally different from right. The answer to all of these questions is no.
A week ago this would have unsettled Jose profoundly rather than elating him, but not anymore, not after the nomination of Sarah Palin for Vice President. What the joyous reaction to Gov. Palin’s nomination among social conservatives has shown Jose is that preparation and aptitude are irrelevant, provided you belief in the right things and represent a critical interest group.
So does Van Every believe in the right things and represent a critical group? Well, Van Every believes in both hitting the ball AND catching the ball. Moreover, he is guaranteed to capture the critical demographic of Mississippians of Dutch extraction. That’s huge. And who cares if prior to making the majors, his only real success was in AA?
Sure, Jose was supporting the Red Sox prior to Van Every’s call up, who else was he going to support, Tampax Bay? But his support was wan and unenthusiastic. Now that we have Van Every, Jose feels confident and fired up. Besides did you know that Van Every has exactly as much Major League experience now as Ted Williams had after his first four At Bats? Of course, Ted Williams probably didn’t strike out in three of them.
Ready to Lead?
3. Instant replay begins Thursday in all Major League ballparks and Jose for one, says it’s about time. Jose is sick and tired of having to go through the laborious process of getting a “conventional” replay. It will be much nicer to just add water to the replay, toss it in the microwave and get it back in 45 seconds.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. It has come to Jose’s attention recently that baseball players are the only athletes in any major U.S. sport who wear belts. Jose thinks that football players may wear belts too, but he thinks those are built into their pants, so they don’t really count. What Jose is talking about is an honest to God, ass whippin’, Michael Huthcence-style autoerotic asphyxiation belt. Hutchence never could have killed himself with the belt in a pair of football pants. Even boxers, who are forbidden to hit below the belt, do not, technically, wear belts.
So baseball players are unique among American athletes in wearing a proper belt. The question, as always, is why?
The answer is clearly not “to keep their pants up.” A significant percentage of major leaguers are of sufficient girth that having their pants fall off is not an issue and they still wear belts. Another counterpoint to the “keep their pants up hypothesis” is Manny, who wore a belt and yet constantly seemed to have his pants falling off.
So Jose has come to a conclusion. The belt on baseball players is a vestigial structure dating back to when players needed them in the old days of baseball before nuclear science gave us the elastic waist. It is something left over from a distant past when it had use, like the appendix or Mike Timlin.
So, we have established that the belt on baseball players serves no purpose. This troubles Jose. It strikes him as wasteful. Isn’t there something that could be done?
Yes. Yes there is.
While attending a minor league game last week, Jose had an idea. He became frustrated with the fact that he could not tell which players were former major leaguers and which had yet to visit the show. And then it him… belts were the answer, and for once he was not talking about belts of scotch.
Baseball should take a cue from karate. Each player should wear a belt reflecting his highest level of baseball achievement. Little leaguers would wear white belts, high school players yellow belts and rookie leaguers orange belts. A ball gets a green belt, AA a blue belt and AAA players would wear brown belts. Only a major leaguer would have the honor and esteem of a black belt. Once in the majors, a player would get a degree for each All-Star Appearance. For instance, Scott Cooper would be a second-degree black belt.
Wait, scrap the whole idea. Jose is pretty sure that the karate equivalent of Scott Cooper is not a second degree black belt, but Daniel LaRusso before he met Mr. Miyagi.
2. As the Red Sox come down the stretch run, Jose has to confess that he feels remarkably confident despite the Sox having only a slim lead for the wild card and approximately three quarters of the team on the disabled list. Jose isn’t exactly sure why he feels confident, but he’s been thinking about it, and he has developed a theory.
Here’s what Jose’s come up with: Jose feels completely confident because the Red Sox now have Jonathan Van Every on the team.
At first Jose didn’t really feel that way, after all was there any evidence that Van Every would make a difference? Had he made a huge difference in AAA? Had he demonstrated any real aptitude for Major League Baseball? Was there any evidence that he was ready to succeed DJ Dru in right field right now should the need arise? After all, his experience was mostly in center and left, which is totally different from right. The answer to all of these questions is no.
A week ago this would have unsettled Jose profoundly rather than elating him, but not anymore, not after the nomination of Sarah Palin for Vice President. What the joyous reaction to Gov. Palin’s nomination among social conservatives has shown Jose is that preparation and aptitude are irrelevant, provided you belief in the right things and represent a critical interest group.
So does Van Every believe in the right things and represent a critical group? Well, Van Every believes in both hitting the ball AND catching the ball. Moreover, he is guaranteed to capture the critical demographic of Mississippians of Dutch extraction. That’s huge. And who cares if prior to making the majors, his only real success was in AA?
Sure, Jose was supporting the Red Sox prior to Van Every’s call up, who else was he going to support, Tampax Bay? But his support was wan and unenthusiastic. Now that we have Van Every, Jose feels confident and fired up. Besides did you know that Van Every has exactly as much Major League experience now as Ted Williams had after his first four At Bats? Of course, Ted Williams probably didn’t strike out in three of them.
Ready to Lead?
3. Instant replay begins Thursday in all Major League ballparks and Jose for one, says it’s about time. Jose is sick and tired of having to go through the laborious process of getting a “conventional” replay. It will be much nicer to just add water to the replay, toss it in the microwave and get it back in 45 seconds.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Tuesday, August 26
You Have No Idea
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Jose has finally answered one of the great imponderables of life.
Which one is it, you say?
What is the meaning of life? Nope.
Why do bad things happen to good people? Nah. Jose answered that back in 2006.
What Jose has answered is whether relief pitchers get really bored in the bullpen.
Last night, Jose attended his first Durham Bulls game, and had the good fortune in the late innings to sneak down one of the picnic areas where he got to chat with Evan Meek, who was at the time, the only member of the Indianapolis Indians (note: not affiliated with the Cleveland Indians, Cherokee Indians or sub continental Indians) bullpen who spoke English. Meek, a pudgy fireballer, who has been unimpressive in his 13 innings in The Show, turned out to be fairly desperate for someone to talk to. As Meek lofted a high arc and drained his third wad of gum into a trash barrel ten feet away, Jose asked the only question he had ever really wanted to ask to a reliever pitcher: “Do you guys get really bored out here?”
“You have no idea,” the mournful reply slipped through weary lips below glassy eyes.
What Jose regrets now is that he didn’t offer any suggestions for how Meek and his colleagues could liven up the bullpen experience. Relievers, of course, have spend a century developing ways to amuse themselves, from spitting seeds competitively, to the Red Sox bullpen drum corps to David Cone’s unfortunate experiment in bullpen self-gratification. But perhaps, these fellows are deep in the system, too stultified by dreary repetition to come up with anything inventive.
Thus, Jose offers a few ideas.
Not paying attention?
2. A Red Sox fan in Jose’s program revealed to Jose yesterday that her English-American Catholic brother named his son Kapler, in honor of Gabe Kapler, “The World’s Most Perfectly Sculpted Jew.”
At first Jose was going to write about how this had to have been the first goyish child on earth named after Gabe Kapler. But then Jose thought about it and realized, that this is probably the first child anywhere named after Kapler. The only people who would likely want to name their kid after him would be Jews, but Jews famously, do not name their children after living people. To do so, is extremely bad luck for the person from whom the name is taken. Which raises an important question: Why does Jose’s classmate’s brother want Gabe Kapler to die?
3. The Red Sox begin their final trip to Yankee Stadium this week, and Jose is awash in memories. The Slap, clinching in 2004. There was probably some other stuff that happened before 2004, but Jose doesn’t really remember. Funny that.
But Jose wants to share one special memory with you, the story of his first and only trip to Yankee Stadium. The only time Jose made it there was in 1989 as the terrible Yankees played the slightly less terrible Red Sox, in a meaningless late season game. It was rainy that day in the Bronx or perhaps it was the odor hanging thick in the air. Jose’s predominant memory, as part of a group of 80 seventh graders there, was that there was a Yankee fan, perhaps 18 or 19 who wanted to fight us. What strength! What nobility! What courage a man must have to take on 80 children accompanied by several middle aged ladies!
And that, more than anything, is what Jose will miss about Yankee Stadium—
the passion. The passion that drives a man to threaten students. The passion that sends D cells flying into the field. The passion that encourages New Jersey brats to interfere with balls in play. The passion that demands that the police come on to the field to protect players following a correct call.
So long Yankee Stadium. Next year you may be gone, but Jose knows a lot of Bostonians who will keep you alive in little plastic bags, filled one October night in two thousand four, year of our lord.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Jose has finally answered one of the great imponderables of life.
Which one is it, you say?
What is the meaning of life? Nope.
Why do bad things happen to good people? Nah. Jose answered that back in 2006.
What Jose has answered is whether relief pitchers get really bored in the bullpen.
Last night, Jose attended his first Durham Bulls game, and had the good fortune in the late innings to sneak down one of the picnic areas where he got to chat with Evan Meek, who was at the time, the only member of the Indianapolis Indians (note: not affiliated with the Cleveland Indians, Cherokee Indians or sub continental Indians) bullpen who spoke English. Meek, a pudgy fireballer, who has been unimpressive in his 13 innings in The Show, turned out to be fairly desperate for someone to talk to. As Meek lofted a high arc and drained his third wad of gum into a trash barrel ten feet away, Jose asked the only question he had ever really wanted to ask to a reliever pitcher: “Do you guys get really bored out here?”
“You have no idea,” the mournful reply slipped through weary lips below glassy eyes.
What Jose regrets now is that he didn’t offer any suggestions for how Meek and his colleagues could liven up the bullpen experience. Relievers, of course, have spend a century developing ways to amuse themselves, from spitting seeds competitively, to the Red Sox bullpen drum corps to David Cone’s unfortunate experiment in bullpen self-gratification. But perhaps, these fellows are deep in the system, too stultified by dreary repetition to come up with anything inventive.
Thus, Jose offers a few ideas.
- Memorize the Koran. When you memorize the Koran then you earn the title “Hafiz.” Jose would enjoy hearing the announcement, “Now pitching for the Red Sox… number 50… Hafiz Mike Timlin…Timlin.”
- Pursue the X prize for the 100-mile per gallon car. At $10 million, that’s still enough to motivate a major leaguer. Just ask Manny.
- Start a crystal meth lab. Not only is it profitable, the product will make the games go faster. Better still, amphetamines are part of baseball’s cultural heritage, so it’s kind of like a throw back thing.
- Plot a revolution in your native country. (Note: Americans, do not do this. Jose in no way advocates the overthrow of the U.S. government, unless U.S. stands for Upper Silesia, the government of which is crap.)
- If you plan on attacking employees with a machete in the future (note: see Urbina, Ugueth Urtain) prepare defense strategy.
- And of course, finally, what every reliever coming up through the minors should focus on is what his entrance music will be.
Not paying attention?
2. A Red Sox fan in Jose’s program revealed to Jose yesterday that her English-American Catholic brother named his son Kapler, in honor of Gabe Kapler, “The World’s Most Perfectly Sculpted Jew.”
At first Jose was going to write about how this had to have been the first goyish child on earth named after Gabe Kapler. But then Jose thought about it and realized, that this is probably the first child anywhere named after Kapler. The only people who would likely want to name their kid after him would be Jews, but Jews famously, do not name their children after living people. To do so, is extremely bad luck for the person from whom the name is taken. Which raises an important question: Why does Jose’s classmate’s brother want Gabe Kapler to die?
3. The Red Sox begin their final trip to Yankee Stadium this week, and Jose is awash in memories. The Slap, clinching in 2004. There was probably some other stuff that happened before 2004, but Jose doesn’t really remember. Funny that.
But Jose wants to share one special memory with you, the story of his first and only trip to Yankee Stadium. The only time Jose made it there was in 1989 as the terrible Yankees played the slightly less terrible Red Sox, in a meaningless late season game. It was rainy that day in the Bronx or perhaps it was the odor hanging thick in the air. Jose’s predominant memory, as part of a group of 80 seventh graders there, was that there was a Yankee fan, perhaps 18 or 19 who wanted to fight us. What strength! What nobility! What courage a man must have to take on 80 children accompanied by several middle aged ladies!
And that, more than anything, is what Jose will miss about Yankee Stadium—
the passion. The passion that drives a man to threaten students. The passion that sends D cells flying into the field. The passion that encourages New Jersey brats to interfere with balls in play. The passion that demands that the police come on to the field to protect players following a correct call.
So long Yankee Stadium. Next year you may be gone, but Jose knows a lot of Bostonians who will keep you alive in little plastic bags, filled one October night in two thousand four, year of our lord.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Friday, August 22
Running Mates
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. As Jose has watched Senator Barack Obama stretch out the vice presidential search process, it has made him think about some of the issues in his own life, namely, the fact that it will end. Someday Jose will die, and he needs to think about succession planning for KEYS. If something were to happen to Jose, what would happen to KEYS and all of the people who depend on it? What would become of poor Tiny Tim?
As a result Jose has gone through a lengthy vetting process, for identifying a nominee for Vice Blogger. Here are the leading candidates.
Manny Ramirez
Pros: Funny, beloved, understands the Red Sox, sure thing Hall of Famer.
Cons: Possibly retarded.
Dario Veras
Pros: Obscure Latino relief pitcher, understands what it is like to fail as a Red Sox, cool first name.
Cons: Only second best obscure Veras in Red Sox history.
Grady Little
Pros: Also lives in North Carolina, folksy, no competition for his services.
Cons: Possibly retarded
Gov. Bill Richardson
Pros: Red Sox fan, Tufts alum, savvy diplomat, popular Governor.
Cons: If he’s not good enough for Obama why should he be good enough for Jose?
Gov. Mitt Romney
Pros: Telegenic, charismatic, from Belmont.
Cons: Might only be claiming to be a Red Sox fan in order to get the job, less military experience than Tim Johnson.
Alex Cora:
Pros: Genius, likely to be unemployed next year.
Cons: Should never get time over Jed Lowrie.
Dodgers Owner Frank McCourt
Pros: Must like KEYS since it used to be good and has something to do with the Red Sox.
Cons: Parking lot attendant (note: thanks Plaschke) inadequate training for writing blog.
So as you can see there are a lot of appealing, yet flawed candidates. If you want to know who Jose selects, just sent your number to Obama for President and Jose will be sure to text you as soon as he makes a decision.
2. Jose would like to make (note: gasp) a correction. Well, more of a clarification (note: smaller gasp).
In the previous KEYS, Jose told a story about Derek Jeter having herpes, which some readers may have interpreted as a suggestion that having herpes is shameful. A colleague of Jose’s who works in public health pointed out that this was wrong and inappropriate. Herpes is a very common, non-fatal disease, and people who have it (note: or any other sexually transmitted infection) should not be stigmatized. Except for scabies. Scabies is gross.
What Jose was attempting to do in the piece was not to suggest that people with herpes deserve to be stigmatized. Rather, he was attempting to suggest that they should NOT be stigmatized by the fact that they share a disease with Derek Jeter.
So please allow Jose to be as clear as possible: Just because someone has herpes DOES NOT MEAN that they have no range at shortstop. There are many people with herpes and other sexually transmitted infection who have excellent range to both their left and right.
Jose hopes this corrects any confusion.
3. After pitching brilliantly last year, Clay Meredith has struggled in Boston and has again been send back to Pawtucket. While this is regrettable, Jose thinks it is ultimately for the best. Not only, can he work on his pitching, but with Bartolo Colon there rehabbing, there is the possibility for Buchholz and Colon to form a fat man/thin man comedy team, along the lines of Laurel and Hardy, Spade and Farley or Hatch and Kennedy.
While one drawback to this plan may be that there is no particular evidence that either of the pitchers is funny, Jose is pretty sure that watching Buchholz stand next to Colon will, at the very least, be way funnier than watching him stand on the mound in Baltimore.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. As Jose has watched Senator Barack Obama stretch out the vice presidential search process, it has made him think about some of the issues in his own life, namely, the fact that it will end. Someday Jose will die, and he needs to think about succession planning for KEYS. If something were to happen to Jose, what would happen to KEYS and all of the people who depend on it? What would become of poor Tiny Tim?
As a result Jose has gone through a lengthy vetting process, for identifying a nominee for Vice Blogger. Here are the leading candidates.
Manny Ramirez
Pros: Funny, beloved, understands the Red Sox, sure thing Hall of Famer.
Cons: Possibly retarded.
Dario Veras
Pros: Obscure Latino relief pitcher, understands what it is like to fail as a Red Sox, cool first name.
Cons: Only second best obscure Veras in Red Sox history.
Grady Little
Pros: Also lives in North Carolina, folksy, no competition for his services.
Cons: Possibly retarded
Gov. Bill Richardson
Pros: Red Sox fan, Tufts alum, savvy diplomat, popular Governor.
Cons: If he’s not good enough for Obama why should he be good enough for Jose?
Gov. Mitt Romney
Pros: Telegenic, charismatic, from Belmont.
Cons: Might only be claiming to be a Red Sox fan in order to get the job, less military experience than Tim Johnson.
Alex Cora:
Pros: Genius, likely to be unemployed next year.
Cons: Should never get time over Jed Lowrie.
Dodgers Owner Frank McCourt
Pros: Must like KEYS since it used to be good and has something to do with the Red Sox.
Cons: Parking lot attendant (note: thanks Plaschke) inadequate training for writing blog.
So as you can see there are a lot of appealing, yet flawed candidates. If you want to know who Jose selects, just sent your number to Obama for President and Jose will be sure to text you as soon as he makes a decision.
2. Jose would like to make (note: gasp) a correction. Well, more of a clarification (note: smaller gasp).
In the previous KEYS, Jose told a story about Derek Jeter having herpes, which some readers may have interpreted as a suggestion that having herpes is shameful. A colleague of Jose’s who works in public health pointed out that this was wrong and inappropriate. Herpes is a very common, non-fatal disease, and people who have it (note: or any other sexually transmitted infection) should not be stigmatized. Except for scabies. Scabies is gross.
What Jose was attempting to do in the piece was not to suggest that people with herpes deserve to be stigmatized. Rather, he was attempting to suggest that they should NOT be stigmatized by the fact that they share a disease with Derek Jeter.
So please allow Jose to be as clear as possible: Just because someone has herpes DOES NOT MEAN that they have no range at shortstop. There are many people with herpes and other sexually transmitted infection who have excellent range to both their left and right.
Jose hopes this corrects any confusion.
3. After pitching brilliantly last year, Clay Meredith has struggled in Boston and has again been send back to Pawtucket. While this is regrettable, Jose thinks it is ultimately for the best. Not only, can he work on his pitching, but with Bartolo Colon there rehabbing, there is the possibility for Buchholz and Colon to form a fat man/thin man comedy team, along the lines of Laurel and Hardy, Spade and Farley or Hatch and Kennedy.
While one drawback to this plan may be that there is no particular evidence that either of the pitchers is funny, Jose is pretty sure that watching Buchholz stand next to Colon will, at the very least, be way funnier than watching him stand on the mound in Baltimore.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Wednesday, August 20
Jose is off with Susan Sarandon
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Jose comes to you today live from his brand new home in Durham, North Carolina, where he expects to be engaged in light bondage with Susan Sarandon while listening to Edith Piaf records at any moment.
Truth be told, while Durham (note: disappointingly not named for Ray Durham) seems nice enough so far, Jose is having some trouble adjusting. For starters, Jose is completely unused to living in an environment where he is not surrounded by Red Sox fans. Of the 30 or so people he’s met so far, only 10 of them are Red Sox fans. Seriously, what is wrong with people?
Second, Jose is a bit uncomfortable living in any state that could produce Grady Little. Jose sort of imagined, based on Grady, that North Carolina would be a dangerous place. He expected to see drivers going right through obvious stop signs.
Third, Jose has already had a run in with a Yankee fan a classmate wearing a Derek Jeter shirt.
The conversation went something like this:
Jose: Did you know Derek Jeter has herpes?
Classmate: What?
Jose: He has herpes; he gave it to one of the Jessica’s.
Classmate: How do you know? Have you been looking at his @#$@#$?
Jose: (stunned silence)
Classmate: Have you?
Jose: The herpes probably have great intangibles.
So Jose is off to a great start on that relationship. Jose must have missed the chapter in How to Win Friends and Influence People where it says not to point out that someone’s hero has herpes.
Now many of you may wonder what sort of affect this move will have on the KEYS. Can Jose continue to produce a quality product while so far removed from the motherland? The answer, of course, is no. Denuded of his comfortable stories about how the Red Sox club house resembles the Middlesex County Registrar of Deeds office, Jose is going to have to develop a whole new set of analogies.
For instance, Jose will have to raise important questions such as “How are the Red Sox like biscuits and gravy?” They are both predominantly white and will eventually cause heart attacks.
2. The news emerged yesterday that St. Josh a Beckett’s next start will be pushed back due to a lack of feeling in his pinkie and ring fingers. (Note: Is this a good excuse of adultery? “Honey, I didn’t cheat, I just forgot I was married, because I didn’t feel the ring on my finger.”) In light of this, Jose thinks he has the perfect theme music for Beckett. Jose saw this movie called The Squid and the Whale, and this kid in it wrote a wonderful original song called “Comfortably Numb.” It would be perfect.
While it sound like the numbness is a bad thing, Jose would differ with the conventional wisdom and suggest that this is a blessing in disguise. After all, how will Beckett feel his famous finger blisters if he can’t feel his fingers?
3. In more serious news, Yaz, the Red Sox legend/birth control device underwent emergency triple bypass surgery yesterday. It was the slugger’s first triple in 25 years. While the surgery is distressing and Jose is concerned about the legend, you can rest assured that even in his current condition, Yaz remains a better hitter than Rococo Crisp and a better left fielder than the dearly departed Manny Ramirez. Of course, the same can be said for Ted Williams.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Jose comes to you today live from his brand new home in Durham, North Carolina, where he expects to be engaged in light bondage with Susan Sarandon while listening to Edith Piaf records at any moment.
Truth be told, while Durham (note: disappointingly not named for Ray Durham) seems nice enough so far, Jose is having some trouble adjusting. For starters, Jose is completely unused to living in an environment where he is not surrounded by Red Sox fans. Of the 30 or so people he’s met so far, only 10 of them are Red Sox fans. Seriously, what is wrong with people?
Second, Jose is a bit uncomfortable living in any state that could produce Grady Little. Jose sort of imagined, based on Grady, that North Carolina would be a dangerous place. He expected to see drivers going right through obvious stop signs.
Third, Jose has already had a run in with a Yankee fan a classmate wearing a Derek Jeter shirt.
The conversation went something like this:
Jose: Did you know Derek Jeter has herpes?
Classmate: What?
Jose: He has herpes; he gave it to one of the Jessica’s.
Classmate: How do you know? Have you been looking at his @#$@#$?
Jose: (stunned silence)
Classmate: Have you?
Jose: The herpes probably have great intangibles.
So Jose is off to a great start on that relationship. Jose must have missed the chapter in How to Win Friends and Influence People where it says not to point out that someone’s hero has herpes.
Now many of you may wonder what sort of affect this move will have on the KEYS. Can Jose continue to produce a quality product while so far removed from the motherland? The answer, of course, is no. Denuded of his comfortable stories about how the Red Sox club house resembles the Middlesex County Registrar of Deeds office, Jose is going to have to develop a whole new set of analogies.
For instance, Jose will have to raise important questions such as “How are the Red Sox like biscuits and gravy?” They are both predominantly white and will eventually cause heart attacks.
2. The news emerged yesterday that St. Josh a Beckett’s next start will be pushed back due to a lack of feeling in his pinkie and ring fingers. (Note: Is this a good excuse of adultery? “Honey, I didn’t cheat, I just forgot I was married, because I didn’t feel the ring on my finger.”) In light of this, Jose thinks he has the perfect theme music for Beckett. Jose saw this movie called The Squid and the Whale, and this kid in it wrote a wonderful original song called “Comfortably Numb.” It would be perfect.
While it sound like the numbness is a bad thing, Jose would differ with the conventional wisdom and suggest that this is a blessing in disguise. After all, how will Beckett feel his famous finger blisters if he can’t feel his fingers?
3. In more serious news, Yaz, the Red Sox legend/birth control device underwent emergency triple bypass surgery yesterday. It was the slugger’s first triple in 25 years. While the surgery is distressing and Jose is concerned about the legend, you can rest assured that even in his current condition, Yaz remains a better hitter than Rococo Crisp and a better left fielder than the dearly departed Manny Ramirez. Of course, the same can be said for Ted Williams.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Thursday, August 14
Jose's Routine
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Last night, Jose had the privilege of watching, or even listening to a baseball game, for the first time since Jon Lester’s no hitter. Jose has had periods of absence from the game a couple of times in the past (note: actually Jose disappears every six years, he is like the opposite of a Senate candidate.), but he has never had a spell like this before.
Sure, Jose tried to keep up, but it was difficult, so he created a basic routine. It went like this.
6:00 AM Wake up.
6:05 AM Start coffee brewing
6:10 AM Log onto to dial up Internet service. via sketchy Chinese box.
6:15 AM Type “Red Sox” into Google window in Firefox.
6:20 AM Wait five minutes and pray that the score shows up in the Google Web search.
6:25 AM Swear because the score has not shown up in the Google Web search
6:30 AM Enter “Red Sox” in Google news.
6:35 AM Wait five minutes, get coffee.
6:40 AM Swear some more because there was no game the previous night it turns out, so Jose wasted 25 minutes searching for nothing.
6:50 AM Check Google news for Yankees score.
7:00 AM Dial up disconnects.
7:15 AM Get Yankees score
7:20 AM Celebrate over latest Yankees injury
7:30 AM Check Tampa Bay score.
7:35 AM Get no results because Jose googled “Devil Rays”
7:45 AM Get “Rays” results
7:50 AM Go into shock from feeling obliged to check Rays scores
11:45 AM Come out of shock
12 Noon Lunch
So as you can see Jose enjoyed, for the most part pretty full mornings that combined the excitement of waiting with the philosophical depth of contemplating the Tampax Bay Rays.
2. Jose got something nice in the mail the other day. It was an ad for the 24th Annual Three Apples Storytelling Festival in Bedford. At first Jose thought it was in New Bedford, but then he noticed it was not written in Portuguese nor did it smell of kale. (Note: Just kidding New Bedford. Jose loves you and was just there the other day. Also, Jose would have liked it better if the mail had smelled like kale soup.)
Among the performers appearing at this cultural event is Tim Van Egmond, who, as we all know, must be the guy who once pitched for the Red Sox. Jose has mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, good for him for learning a craft, unlike that bum Nate Minchey. On the other hand, perhaps if he had spent more time on his curveball and less name on his dance calling and hammered dulcimer playing, he would have had a better career ERA than 5.96. Of course, to beat on Minchey again, Minchey does not play the hammered dulcimer or even the limberjack, and his ERA was 6.75.
3. On a more somber note, just a reminder that today is the Jimmy Fund Telethon, and Jose urges you to kick in for this great cause.
In order to ease any concerns you might have, Jose reminds you that not one dime from the fundraiser goes to Jimy Williams. Yes, Jose knows that you knew that. Relax, it was a joke. Obviously, the money doesn’t go to Jimy Williams. It is reserved for the needy people, the true heroes among us, who spell their name Jimmy, like Jimmy Key, Jimmy Rodgers and on the rare occasions he is feeling frisky, Jimmy Rice. Also, cancer. It fights cancer too.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME
1. Last night, Jose had the privilege of watching, or even listening to a baseball game, for the first time since Jon Lester’s no hitter. Jose has had periods of absence from the game a couple of times in the past (note: actually Jose disappears every six years, he is like the opposite of a Senate candidate.), but he has never had a spell like this before.
Sure, Jose tried to keep up, but it was difficult, so he created a basic routine. It went like this.
6:00 AM Wake up.
6:05 AM Start coffee brewing
6:10 AM Log onto to dial up Internet service. via sketchy Chinese box.
6:15 AM Type “Red Sox” into Google window in Firefox.
6:20 AM Wait five minutes and pray that the score shows up in the Google Web search.
6:25 AM Swear because the score has not shown up in the Google Web search
6:30 AM Enter “Red Sox” in Google news.
6:35 AM Wait five minutes, get coffee.
6:40 AM Swear some more because there was no game the previous night it turns out, so Jose wasted 25 minutes searching for nothing.
6:50 AM Check Google news for Yankees score.
7:00 AM Dial up disconnects.
7:15 AM Get Yankees score
7:20 AM Celebrate over latest Yankees injury
7:30 AM Check Tampa Bay score.
7:35 AM Get no results because Jose googled “Devil Rays”
7:45 AM Get “Rays” results
7:50 AM Go into shock from feeling obliged to check Rays scores
11:45 AM Come out of shock
12 Noon Lunch
So as you can see Jose enjoyed, for the most part pretty full mornings that combined the excitement of waiting with the philosophical depth of contemplating the Tampax Bay Rays.
2. Jose got something nice in the mail the other day. It was an ad for the 24th Annual Three Apples Storytelling Festival in Bedford. At first Jose thought it was in New Bedford, but then he noticed it was not written in Portuguese nor did it smell of kale. (Note: Just kidding New Bedford. Jose loves you and was just there the other day. Also, Jose would have liked it better if the mail had smelled like kale soup.)
Among the performers appearing at this cultural event is Tim Van Egmond, who, as we all know, must be the guy who once pitched for the Red Sox. Jose has mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, good for him for learning a craft, unlike that bum Nate Minchey. On the other hand, perhaps if he had spent more time on his curveball and less name on his dance calling and hammered dulcimer playing, he would have had a better career ERA than 5.96. Of course, to beat on Minchey again, Minchey does not play the hammered dulcimer or even the limberjack, and his ERA was 6.75.
3. On a more somber note, just a reminder that today is the Jimmy Fund Telethon, and Jose urges you to kick in for this great cause.
In order to ease any concerns you might have, Jose reminds you that not one dime from the fundraiser goes to Jimy Williams. Yes, Jose knows that you knew that. Relax, it was a joke. Obviously, the money doesn’t go to Jimy Williams. It is reserved for the needy people, the true heroes among us, who spell their name Jimmy, like Jimmy Key, Jimmy Rodgers and on the rare occasions he is feeling frisky, Jimmy Rice. Also, cancer. It fights cancer too.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME
Tuesday, August 12
What Day Is It?
It’s time for Jose Van Winkle’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Yawn.
Yawn.
Sttttrrrreeeeecchhhhh.
Yawn.
What time is it where is Jose?
What day is it? May 23rd? No?
Twenty-fourth then? No? Really?
August 12th? Are you serious? August? How can that be? The last thing Jose remembers is that he was taunting some gnomes, some place in upstate New York, it might have been Dustin Pedroia, and the next things he knows he’s here and now.
Oh woe! Oh terrible woe! The things Jose must have missed. At least he’ll still have a chance to vote for Hillary Clinton for President. He won’t? Oh wow.
He’ll just have to try to put up with watching Kobe and the Lakers try to repeat as champs. No? Not that either huh?
Well, at least there are the Red Sox to fall back on. How’s Jon Lester doing since that no hitter? Still walking the park? He isn’t? Wonders of the future Jose guesses.
Jose can hardly wait to see Papi and Manny slug back to back again. What do you mean that’s not going to happen? Is Papi hurt again? We traded Manny?
Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!
Dear God the things Jose’s missed, the loss, the horrible loss. The future is a sad and evil place. Woe! Woe! Woe! (Note: Woe!)
Wait. They didn’t trade him for Aubrey Huff and Mike Cameron did they?
This is brutal. Jose needs to try to chill out. Maybe there’s a new Bernie Mac movie out that he can watch?
What about a new Isaac Hayes album?
Oh the things Jose has missed! Oh the time that has gone by? Is nothing still the same? Is there no constant in Jose’s world?
There is you say? Praise the Lord! What is it? What has remained the same?
Julio Yugo is still not contributing in any way?
Good to know that some things never change.
2. As Jose returns after nearly three months without seeing a baseball game, there is one question the burns in his mind: Why isn’t this team better?
Jose does not mean why aren’t specific players better, or why isn’t the team as a whole putting up better numbers. What he wants to know is why, after a cursory look at team statistics, the Red Sox don’t have a better record. If you had told Jose at the beginning of the year that the team ERA would be 3.79, that St. Josh a Beckett would have the worst ERA of the regular starters at 4.08, that Youks would have 20 home runs and DJ Dru 19, Jose would be sure the Red Sox would be in first place, or would at least have a comfortable lead in the wild card.
And yet here we are in August and the Sox are four games behind Tampax Bay and just a shade ahead of the Twins for the wild card.
How is this possible?
Jose has done a lot of thinking on the subject and he has come up with a theory: The Red Sox ERA team ERA is actually, 379.000, but the Red Sox, following the lead of the Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe, have decided to cut off some zeros. For the few of you who may not have been following the economic crisis in the troubled African nation, inflation there has, for some time been in excess of one million percent. The result has been a nation of impoverished billionaires. The highest bill printed, technically a “Special Agro-Cheque” rather than actual money, is for 100 billion Zimbabwe dollars. However, at the beginning of August, Dr. Gideon Gono, Chair of the Reserve Bank decided to slash 10 zeros from the currency, issuing new one dollar notes equal to the old 10 billion dollar notes.
Jose is pretty sure the Red Sox must have done something comparable, slashing three zeros from the team ERA to come up with the officially reported number. Jose hopes they have taken one more innovation from the big brains at the Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe. The RBZ remonetized old coins that have for years now been worthless. In other words, one dollar coins, sitting in Zimbabwe’s sock drawers that had fallen in value to less than one-ten billionth of a U.S. dollar are now back to being worth about .10 U.S. dollars. Jose hopes that the Red Sox have replicated this and remonetized Pedro Martinez’s 2000 ERA.
3. Jose does not keep up with the golf news, as he generally regards golf as a sport for rich jerks (note: unlike baseball?) But one tidbit from Sunday’s Globe did jump out at him. Apparently, a golfer named Heath Slocum missed the cut at the PGA Championship after double bogeyed in the 15th and quadruple bogeyed in the 16th. Apparently, this is bad.
What surprises Jose, however, is that he was still competitive in the 15th. Jose would have expected Heath Slocum to implode in the ninth.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Yawn.
Yawn.
Sttttrrrreeeeecchhhhh.
Yawn.
What time is it where is Jose?
What day is it? May 23rd? No?
Twenty-fourth then? No? Really?
August 12th? Are you serious? August? How can that be? The last thing Jose remembers is that he was taunting some gnomes, some place in upstate New York, it might have been Dustin Pedroia, and the next things he knows he’s here and now.
Oh woe! Oh terrible woe! The things Jose must have missed. At least he’ll still have a chance to vote for Hillary Clinton for President. He won’t? Oh wow.
He’ll just have to try to put up with watching Kobe and the Lakers try to repeat as champs. No? Not that either huh?
Well, at least there are the Red Sox to fall back on. How’s Jon Lester doing since that no hitter? Still walking the park? He isn’t? Wonders of the future Jose guesses.
Jose can hardly wait to see Papi and Manny slug back to back again. What do you mean that’s not going to happen? Is Papi hurt again? We traded Manny?
Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!
Dear God the things Jose’s missed, the loss, the horrible loss. The future is a sad and evil place. Woe! Woe! Woe! (Note: Woe!)
Wait. They didn’t trade him for Aubrey Huff and Mike Cameron did they?
This is brutal. Jose needs to try to chill out. Maybe there’s a new Bernie Mac movie out that he can watch?
What about a new Isaac Hayes album?
Oh the things Jose has missed! Oh the time that has gone by? Is nothing still the same? Is there no constant in Jose’s world?
There is you say? Praise the Lord! What is it? What has remained the same?
Julio Yugo is still not contributing in any way?
Good to know that some things never change.
2. As Jose returns after nearly three months without seeing a baseball game, there is one question the burns in his mind: Why isn’t this team better?
Jose does not mean why aren’t specific players better, or why isn’t the team as a whole putting up better numbers. What he wants to know is why, after a cursory look at team statistics, the Red Sox don’t have a better record. If you had told Jose at the beginning of the year that the team ERA would be 3.79, that St. Josh a Beckett would have the worst ERA of the regular starters at 4.08, that Youks would have 20 home runs and DJ Dru 19, Jose would be sure the Red Sox would be in first place, or would at least have a comfortable lead in the wild card.
And yet here we are in August and the Sox are four games behind Tampax Bay and just a shade ahead of the Twins for the wild card.
How is this possible?
Jose has done a lot of thinking on the subject and he has come up with a theory: The Red Sox ERA team ERA is actually, 379.000, but the Red Sox, following the lead of the Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe, have decided to cut off some zeros. For the few of you who may not have been following the economic crisis in the troubled African nation, inflation there has, for some time been in excess of one million percent. The result has been a nation of impoverished billionaires. The highest bill printed, technically a “Special Agro-Cheque” rather than actual money, is for 100 billion Zimbabwe dollars. However, at the beginning of August, Dr. Gideon Gono, Chair of the Reserve Bank decided to slash 10 zeros from the currency, issuing new one dollar notes equal to the old 10 billion dollar notes.
Jose is pretty sure the Red Sox must have done something comparable, slashing three zeros from the team ERA to come up with the officially reported number. Jose hopes they have taken one more innovation from the big brains at the Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe. The RBZ remonetized old coins that have for years now been worthless. In other words, one dollar coins, sitting in Zimbabwe’s sock drawers that had fallen in value to less than one-ten billionth of a U.S. dollar are now back to being worth about .10 U.S. dollars. Jose hopes that the Red Sox have replicated this and remonetized Pedro Martinez’s 2000 ERA.
3. Jose does not keep up with the golf news, as he generally regards golf as a sport for rich jerks (note: unlike baseball?) But one tidbit from Sunday’s Globe did jump out at him. Apparently, a golfer named Heath Slocum missed the cut at the PGA Championship after double bogeyed in the 15th and quadruple bogeyed in the 16th. Apparently, this is bad.
What surprises Jose, however, is that he was still competitive in the 15th. Jose would have expected Heath Slocum to implode in the ninth.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Friday, August 1
What We've Lost
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Today is a day for mourning.
All over New England the church bells toll a melancholy minor, the old Irish granddads saddle up to bar for one more shot of Jameson’s and the clouds hang dark and heavy in the sky.
He is gone. They are gone.
It is the "they" part that is the most troubling. With the trading of Manny Ramirez for Jason Bay, the Red Sox have lost one of the greatest players the game has ever known. This is sad, but this is also something that happens. We have lost brilliant players before. Ted and Yaz retired. Roger Clemens and Wade Boggs defected and Jimmie Foxx we waived away. We mourn, we grieve, we progress. But today the Red Sox fans have lost something far greater, than a Hall-of-Fame outfielder, and we share a pain that very few can understand.
Let Jose tell you a story.
Once, there was a back-to-back power combination of unbelievable skill. Managers didn’t know whether to pitch to one or the other and pitchers feared them. They led their team to multiple championships. But there was grumbling. While one of the stars was diligent, the other was a dandy, eccentric and defiant.
“He is childish,” said some reporters.
“He makes some incredibly foolish plays on the bases and in the field,” said others.
“Who cares, let him hit,” said the wisest.
And hit he did, hit they did, putting up dazzling numbers year after year.
And then it was over. The “childish star” left for a National League team and the magnificent pairing was severed.
The story sounds familiar doesn’t it? It is, of course, the story of Manny and Ortiz.
It is also the story of Gehrig and Ruth.
That is what we have lost today. We have not lost a star; we have lost one of the two greatest parings in baseball history. The only ones who can understand what we are going through, the only ones who can empathize with our loss are the fans of the 1934 Yankees, and Jose doesn’t want to identify with them, Jose doesn’t want their sympathy.
This may have been the right move. It may be good in the long term. It may even be good in the short term. But that doesn’t make it feel any better. We had Gehrig and Ruth, we had Astaire and Rogers, we had Davey Boy Smith and The Dynamite Kid, we had Laurel and Hardy, we had Siskel and Ebert. And now we just have Ebert. Will Jason Bay be Roeper? Is that good or bad? Jose does not know, all he knows is Roeper is not Siskel, and Jose cannot watch that show without thinking of the tall bald jerk.
And that’s how it will be when Jose watches Papi from now on. With every at bat, with each plate appearance, Jose will look in the on-deck circle for that tangle of dreadlocked hair and that tangle of mangy neurons within, he will look for Manny Ramirez, and Manny Ramirez will not be there.
2. As Jose recalls from his ninth grade English class, pretty much all of literature, ergo all of human narrative, falls into one of four archetypes: romance, tragedy, comedy and satire. Jose is hard pressed to come up with anything that crosses into all four categories, save romantic tragicomic farce of Manny Ramirez.
Romance: The story of the hero on a quest. The hero starts out naïve, he faces some adversity, he accomplishes his quest and he learns a little. Examples of romance include Star Wars, Don Quixote and the A-Rod/Madonna saga.
How does Manny fit into this archetype? He entered the Red Sox as something of a pup, so naïve that he wanted to bring his clubhouse guy with and so innocent that he imagined he could escape from his contract almost as soon as it was signed. Along the way, he faced some adversity (note: the Joe Kerrigan era) and eventually completed his quest to be World Series MVP, just like he said in that commercial for, office supplies Jose thinks it was, in 2004. At the end he came out wiser and less naïve… umm… right?
Tragedy: An archetype wherein the hero sufferers a calamitous downfall due to some fatal flaw, often hubris. Examples include, Macbeth, every episode of Behind The Music, the 2001 Red Sox.
Manny had everything going his way. He had won two championships, he was a sure thing Hall-of-Famer and he had fans who loved him so much that they would overlook any quirk, any unexplained disappearance into the wall, any failure to hustle to first. But he had a fatal flaw: Greed. Manny could see the future and he did not like what he saw. He saw a contract ending, he saw two one-year options that gave the team all the power, and he could not abide. So he shot his way out of town, slacking and whining until many of his fans had deserted him (note: not Jose). The tragedy of Manny Ramirez has not yet had its final chapter. That part will come when he is stuck on a bad team bemoaning his fate. It will be sad. That’s why they call it tragedy.
Comedy: In the comedic archetype the hero conquers adversity. This is different that romance for some reason, but Jose doesn’t remember why. Maybe it is because there is no quest or because it does not include the famed “topless Juliet” scene that we saw in class in ninth grade. Examples include, The Divine Comedy, As You Like It, and Police Academy 1, 2, 5 and 6.
How is the story of Manny Ramirez a comedy? Well, he grows up in the literal shadow of evil, beside Yankee Stadium, and advances to purgatory in Cleveland before ascending to paradiso in Boston. Never mind everything that has happened in the last few days.
Satire: Satire is mockery of human vice and foibles. Examples include Aristophanes’ The Knights, Gulliver’s Travels and Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
Perhaps more than anything, the saga of Manny Ramirez was satire. Yes, it had its comedic elements, its romance and ultimately, today, its tragedy, but what defined Manny, what made his story different from all other players’ were his quirks, the mirror that he heal aloft to reflect the strange image of baseball in modern society. From his self-involvement, to his seeming indifference, to his consumption, to his brilliance, Manny Ramirez was a caricature of a modern athlete, and a spectacular one.
The point is that Manny was everything. He was everything Jose loved about baseball and everything he hated. Talented, aggressive, arrogant, stupid, funny and endearing. You can write any story you want, any play, song or sonnet, but if it’s about Manny Ramirez, Jose wants to see it.
3. Jose supposes that he is obligated to say at least a few words about the return in this trade, outfielder Jason Bay. Unlike the rest of you who watch most Pirates games, Jose hasn’t watched much of the Bucs, so he doesn’t have much to say. So let’s leave it at this. When Bay gets the inevitable back injury from crashing into the monster, Jose would like to lay claim right now to calling him Jason “Back” Bay.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Today is a day for mourning.
All over New England the church bells toll a melancholy minor, the old Irish granddads saddle up to bar for one more shot of Jameson’s and the clouds hang dark and heavy in the sky.
He is gone. They are gone.
It is the "they" part that is the most troubling. With the trading of Manny Ramirez for Jason Bay, the Red Sox have lost one of the greatest players the game has ever known. This is sad, but this is also something that happens. We have lost brilliant players before. Ted and Yaz retired. Roger Clemens and Wade Boggs defected and Jimmie Foxx we waived away. We mourn, we grieve, we progress. But today the Red Sox fans have lost something far greater, than a Hall-of-Fame outfielder, and we share a pain that very few can understand.
Let Jose tell you a story.
Once, there was a back-to-back power combination of unbelievable skill. Managers didn’t know whether to pitch to one or the other and pitchers feared them. They led their team to multiple championships. But there was grumbling. While one of the stars was diligent, the other was a dandy, eccentric and defiant.
“He is childish,” said some reporters.
“He makes some incredibly foolish plays on the bases and in the field,” said others.
“Who cares, let him hit,” said the wisest.
And hit he did, hit they did, putting up dazzling numbers year after year.
And then it was over. The “childish star” left for a National League team and the magnificent pairing was severed.
The story sounds familiar doesn’t it? It is, of course, the story of Manny and Ortiz.
It is also the story of Gehrig and Ruth.
That is what we have lost today. We have not lost a star; we have lost one of the two greatest parings in baseball history. The only ones who can understand what we are going through, the only ones who can empathize with our loss are the fans of the 1934 Yankees, and Jose doesn’t want to identify with them, Jose doesn’t want their sympathy.
This may have been the right move. It may be good in the long term. It may even be good in the short term. But that doesn’t make it feel any better. We had Gehrig and Ruth, we had Astaire and Rogers, we had Davey Boy Smith and The Dynamite Kid, we had Laurel and Hardy, we had Siskel and Ebert. And now we just have Ebert. Will Jason Bay be Roeper? Is that good or bad? Jose does not know, all he knows is Roeper is not Siskel, and Jose cannot watch that show without thinking of the tall bald jerk.
And that’s how it will be when Jose watches Papi from now on. With every at bat, with each plate appearance, Jose will look in the on-deck circle for that tangle of dreadlocked hair and that tangle of mangy neurons within, he will look for Manny Ramirez, and Manny Ramirez will not be there.
2. As Jose recalls from his ninth grade English class, pretty much all of literature, ergo all of human narrative, falls into one of four archetypes: romance, tragedy, comedy and satire. Jose is hard pressed to come up with anything that crosses into all four categories, save romantic tragicomic farce of Manny Ramirez.
Romance: The story of the hero on a quest. The hero starts out naïve, he faces some adversity, he accomplishes his quest and he learns a little. Examples of romance include Star Wars, Don Quixote and the A-Rod/Madonna saga.
How does Manny fit into this archetype? He entered the Red Sox as something of a pup, so naïve that he wanted to bring his clubhouse guy with and so innocent that he imagined he could escape from his contract almost as soon as it was signed. Along the way, he faced some adversity (note: the Joe Kerrigan era) and eventually completed his quest to be World Series MVP, just like he said in that commercial for, office supplies Jose thinks it was, in 2004. At the end he came out wiser and less naïve… umm… right?
Tragedy: An archetype wherein the hero sufferers a calamitous downfall due to some fatal flaw, often hubris. Examples include, Macbeth, every episode of Behind The Music, the 2001 Red Sox.
Manny had everything going his way. He had won two championships, he was a sure thing Hall-of-Famer and he had fans who loved him so much that they would overlook any quirk, any unexplained disappearance into the wall, any failure to hustle to first. But he had a fatal flaw: Greed. Manny could see the future and he did not like what he saw. He saw a contract ending, he saw two one-year options that gave the team all the power, and he could not abide. So he shot his way out of town, slacking and whining until many of his fans had deserted him (note: not Jose). The tragedy of Manny Ramirez has not yet had its final chapter. That part will come when he is stuck on a bad team bemoaning his fate. It will be sad. That’s why they call it tragedy.
Comedy: In the comedic archetype the hero conquers adversity. This is different that romance for some reason, but Jose doesn’t remember why. Maybe it is because there is no quest or because it does not include the famed “topless Juliet” scene that we saw in class in ninth grade. Examples include, The Divine Comedy, As You Like It, and Police Academy 1, 2, 5 and 6.
How is the story of Manny Ramirez a comedy? Well, he grows up in the literal shadow of evil, beside Yankee Stadium, and advances to purgatory in Cleveland before ascending to paradiso in Boston. Never mind everything that has happened in the last few days.
Satire: Satire is mockery of human vice and foibles. Examples include Aristophanes’ The Knights, Gulliver’s Travels and Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
Perhaps more than anything, the saga of Manny Ramirez was satire. Yes, it had its comedic elements, its romance and ultimately, today, its tragedy, but what defined Manny, what made his story different from all other players’ were his quirks, the mirror that he heal aloft to reflect the strange image of baseball in modern society. From his self-involvement, to his seeming indifference, to his consumption, to his brilliance, Manny Ramirez was a caricature of a modern athlete, and a spectacular one.
The point is that Manny was everything. He was everything Jose loved about baseball and everything he hated. Talented, aggressive, arrogant, stupid, funny and endearing. You can write any story you want, any play, song or sonnet, but if it’s about Manny Ramirez, Jose wants to see it.
3. Jose supposes that he is obligated to say at least a few words about the return in this trade, outfielder Jason Bay. Unlike the rest of you who watch most Pirates games, Jose hasn’t watched much of the Bucs, so he doesn’t have much to say. So let’s leave it at this. When Bay gets the inevitable back injury from crashing into the monster, Jose would like to lay claim right now to calling him Jason “Back” Bay.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Friday, May 30
How a Blind Man Sees the Red Sox
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. For the past few weeks Jose has been away from the Red Sox, isolated far away from his beloved Boston on a continent that both begins and ends with the letter “A.” (Note: Sorry Europe, everyone else stays in the game.) While being away has its share of hardships, being unable to attend games foremost among them, it is not without its advantages. Most notable Jose has the rare opportunity to view this Red Sox team with fresh eyes, or more accurately, no eyes.
Remember the parable of the blind men and the elephant? A few blind men are feeling up an elephant and they each get a dramatically different idea of what an elephant is based on the part of the beast they are fondling.
The man feeling the elephant's flank says, “Ah, an elephant is like a tree.”
“No, no,” says the man feeling the tail. “An elephant is like a stalk of wheat.”
“You’re both wrong,” says the man touching the trunk. “The elephant is like Ron Jeremy.” (Note: Kapow.)
While Jose, as a general rule is no better than equal to one blind man or two deaf-mutes, at this level of remove, Jose has the opportunity to equal at least three blind men, making him the equal of an entire NBA officiating crew, but without a gambling problem.
So how would a group of blind men see the 2008 Boston Red Sox at this juncture, you know, assuming that they actually weren’t blind at all, but were just really, really narrow minded so they could only see part of the team at a time.
The first blind man, let’s call him Ray, would feel up Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz and say “Ah, the Red Sox are like a locomotive, powerful and right on track.”
The second blind man, named Stevie, would grab hold of Jacoby Ellsbury, Rococo Crisp, and Julio Lugo and say “The Red Sox are like a Dalmatian that mated with a brown-haired thoroughbred horse, black white and brown and fast as hell.” Stevie does not have a great grasp of speciation.
A third blind man, called Usher (note: Doesn’t some African-American musician have to learn to play piano and then go blind once Stevie is gone, or maybe even now, since Ray is gone. Aren’t they like the Sith, there are always two, no more, no less? And you know it won’t be 50 Cent, unless he gets shot in the eye. Who already plays piano?) would grab hold of the middle relief and say, “No, no, you’re wrong. The Red Sox are like a vacuum cleaner, they do nothing but suck.”
But then a fourth sightless companion would come along, let’s call her Helen. Helen would grab hold of the starting rotation. She’d run her hands carefully over Beckett, Dice, Lester, Bartolo, Clay and Wake. Somewhere, Derek Lowe would be watching, lamenting his Sox days gone and wishing that the hot blind chick would be running her hands over him. And then Helen would pause thoughtfully and, twinkle in her glassy eyes, offer the true essence of the Red Sox. “Mmphellesss,” she would sagely state. “Mmmmphelless, waaaattaaahhhh.”
And that friends, is what the 2008 Red Sox, truly are.
2. Okay, that’s great. Now that Jose has made a Helen Keller joke the day after sending a link to KEYS to a prospective employer, he will have plenty of time to write. Good thinking Jose!
In the country where Jose is currently stationed, let’s call it Freedonia, there was recently a failed coup attempt and the former president alleged to be involved, let’s call him Groucho, was sent off to jail. While Jose is, as a matter of principle, deeply opposed to the overthrow of democratically elected governments, he does kind of wish that this sort of “Freedonia model” might be exported to Major League Baseball.
Yes, Jose knows that Buddy Leroux tried it once before, but he made a fatal mistake, he failed to get the army behind him before overthrowing Jean Yawkey and declaring himself Owner. If Buddy had stormed Yawkey Way with three highly trained and loyal divisions, there is no way, Mrs. Yawkey could have taken the team back. She was just a little old lady. There’s no way she could have handled more than two divisions.
But just because it failed once, doesn’t mean that it will fail again. Jose, of course, does not wish to see a coup in the Red Sox organization. We are blessed to be ruled by a benevolent triumvirate that keeps us up to our necks in wine and orgies. Well, keeps the players up to their necks in wine and orgies anyways. Or maybe, Jose was just thinking about Derek Lowe again. (Note: Apologies to DLowe the Paranoid Android, there is no evidence that he ever cheated on his wife with more than one woman in a single sitting or that he was a wine drinker. DLowe always seemed like more of a vodka drunk.)
No, Jose would kind of like to see a coup inside the Yankees organization. The way Jose sees it going down is that former Yankees GM Bob Watson using the armed divisions he must get as MLB’s discipline czar, would overthrow Brian Cashman and Hank Steinbrenner and appoint himself GM for Life, President of the New York Yankees, First Citizen of Yankee Nation and Lion of the Bronx. Then for a façade of legitimacy, he would replace Hank as principle owner with Hank’s own father, the recently deposed George Steinbrenner.
George would call a press conference to declare his dramatic return. As he looked directly into the camera, a twinkle in his glassy eyes would offer the true essence of the Yankees. “Mmphellesss,” the senile old man would sagely state. “Mmmmphelless, waaaattaaahhhh.”
3. Jose would like to offer a hearty thank you to Hillary Clinton. Yes, Jose has been kind of tough on her these past few months, but he now wants to put aside the bitterness and offer a heartfelt thank you.
Thank you, Hil-Rod (note: remember you said wrestling fans can call you that) Thank you, thank you. Hil-Rod. Thank you because by comparing the Democratic Party’s refusal to recognize the votes in the meaningless, non-sanctioned Florida and Michigan primaries to Jim Crow and Mugabe’s Zimbabwe, you have now made it totally acceptable for Jose to compare any event in baseball’s preseason to historical events such as the siege of Sarajevo and the massacre at Katyn.
Just as your husband made it socially acceptably to receive oral sex from interns under a desk, you have made it acceptable to trivialize monstrous events in human history by comparing them to contests that don’t count.
Thank you so much. Already, Jose is writing the story explaining how Julian Tavarez punching Joey Gathright in the face in a preseason game a while back is the same as the Darfur crisis.
Again, thank you for this wonderful contribution to our public discourse.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. For the past few weeks Jose has been away from the Red Sox, isolated far away from his beloved Boston on a continent that both begins and ends with the letter “A.” (Note: Sorry Europe, everyone else stays in the game.) While being away has its share of hardships, being unable to attend games foremost among them, it is not without its advantages. Most notable Jose has the rare opportunity to view this Red Sox team with fresh eyes, or more accurately, no eyes.
Remember the parable of the blind men and the elephant? A few blind men are feeling up an elephant and they each get a dramatically different idea of what an elephant is based on the part of the beast they are fondling.
The man feeling the elephant's flank says, “Ah, an elephant is like a tree.”
“No, no,” says the man feeling the tail. “An elephant is like a stalk of wheat.”
“You’re both wrong,” says the man touching the trunk. “The elephant is like Ron Jeremy.” (Note: Kapow.)
While Jose, as a general rule is no better than equal to one blind man or two deaf-mutes, at this level of remove, Jose has the opportunity to equal at least three blind men, making him the equal of an entire NBA officiating crew, but without a gambling problem.
So how would a group of blind men see the 2008 Boston Red Sox at this juncture, you know, assuming that they actually weren’t blind at all, but were just really, really narrow minded so they could only see part of the team at a time.
The first blind man, let’s call him Ray, would feel up Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz and say “Ah, the Red Sox are like a locomotive, powerful and right on track.”
The second blind man, named Stevie, would grab hold of Jacoby Ellsbury, Rococo Crisp, and Julio Lugo and say “The Red Sox are like a Dalmatian that mated with a brown-haired thoroughbred horse, black white and brown and fast as hell.” Stevie does not have a great grasp of speciation.
A third blind man, called Usher (note: Doesn’t some African-American musician have to learn to play piano and then go blind once Stevie is gone, or maybe even now, since Ray is gone. Aren’t they like the Sith, there are always two, no more, no less? And you know it won’t be 50 Cent, unless he gets shot in the eye. Who already plays piano?) would grab hold of the middle relief and say, “No, no, you’re wrong. The Red Sox are like a vacuum cleaner, they do nothing but suck.”
But then a fourth sightless companion would come along, let’s call her Helen. Helen would grab hold of the starting rotation. She’d run her hands carefully over Beckett, Dice, Lester, Bartolo, Clay and Wake. Somewhere, Derek Lowe would be watching, lamenting his Sox days gone and wishing that the hot blind chick would be running her hands over him. And then Helen would pause thoughtfully and, twinkle in her glassy eyes, offer the true essence of the Red Sox. “Mmphellesss,” she would sagely state. “Mmmmphelless, waaaattaaahhhh.”
And that friends, is what the 2008 Red Sox, truly are.
2. Okay, that’s great. Now that Jose has made a Helen Keller joke the day after sending a link to KEYS to a prospective employer, he will have plenty of time to write. Good thinking Jose!
In the country where Jose is currently stationed, let’s call it Freedonia, there was recently a failed coup attempt and the former president alleged to be involved, let’s call him Groucho, was sent off to jail. While Jose is, as a matter of principle, deeply opposed to the overthrow of democratically elected governments, he does kind of wish that this sort of “Freedonia model” might be exported to Major League Baseball.
Yes, Jose knows that Buddy Leroux tried it once before, but he made a fatal mistake, he failed to get the army behind him before overthrowing Jean Yawkey and declaring himself Owner. If Buddy had stormed Yawkey Way with three highly trained and loyal divisions, there is no way, Mrs. Yawkey could have taken the team back. She was just a little old lady. There’s no way she could have handled more than two divisions.
But just because it failed once, doesn’t mean that it will fail again. Jose, of course, does not wish to see a coup in the Red Sox organization. We are blessed to be ruled by a benevolent triumvirate that keeps us up to our necks in wine and orgies. Well, keeps the players up to their necks in wine and orgies anyways. Or maybe, Jose was just thinking about Derek Lowe again. (Note: Apologies to DLowe the Paranoid Android, there is no evidence that he ever cheated on his wife with more than one woman in a single sitting or that he was a wine drinker. DLowe always seemed like more of a vodka drunk.)
No, Jose would kind of like to see a coup inside the Yankees organization. The way Jose sees it going down is that former Yankees GM Bob Watson using the armed divisions he must get as MLB’s discipline czar, would overthrow Brian Cashman and Hank Steinbrenner and appoint himself GM for Life, President of the New York Yankees, First Citizen of Yankee Nation and Lion of the Bronx. Then for a façade of legitimacy, he would replace Hank as principle owner with Hank’s own father, the recently deposed George Steinbrenner.
George would call a press conference to declare his dramatic return. As he looked directly into the camera, a twinkle in his glassy eyes would offer the true essence of the Yankees. “Mmphellesss,” the senile old man would sagely state. “Mmmmphelless, waaaattaaahhhh.”
3. Jose would like to offer a hearty thank you to Hillary Clinton. Yes, Jose has been kind of tough on her these past few months, but he now wants to put aside the bitterness and offer a heartfelt thank you.
Thank you, Hil-Rod (note: remember you said wrestling fans can call you that) Thank you, thank you. Hil-Rod. Thank you because by comparing the Democratic Party’s refusal to recognize the votes in the meaningless, non-sanctioned Florida and Michigan primaries to Jim Crow and Mugabe’s Zimbabwe, you have now made it totally acceptable for Jose to compare any event in baseball’s preseason to historical events such as the siege of Sarajevo and the massacre at Katyn.
Just as your husband made it socially acceptably to receive oral sex from interns under a desk, you have made it acceptable to trivialize monstrous events in human history by comparing them to contests that don’t count.
Thank you so much. Already, Jose is writing the story explaining how Julian Tavarez punching Joey Gathright in the face in a preseason game a while back is the same as the Darfur crisis.
Again, thank you for this wonderful contribution to our public discourse.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Monday, May 12
5 vs. 1
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Should Julio Yugo continue as the Red Sox starting shortstop? That’s the question on everyone’s lips like so much dried spittle these days isn’t it?
The easy answer is “No of course not. What are you a moron? He can’t hit and now he can’t field either.” But that answer is only easy in the sense that Madonna is easy—everyone has used it. But that does not necessarily mean that this exhibitionist whore of an answer is correct.
Jose would like to offer an alternative answer, more chaste and refined, and therefore, more alluring while ultimately far less satisfying: We should keep Julio Yugo as the shortstop.
Now, Jose knows this isn’t the answer you want to hear, but stay with him for a moment. Jose is not proposing that the Red Sox leave things exactly as they are. That would be crazy.
What Jose is proposing is that they adopt a strategy more appropriate for our disposable, throw away, “Screw you Al Gore” society. Back when Jose was maybe 13 years old, he got the brilliant idea that rather than buying one nice car for say $15,000 (note: quite a bit in 1989 dollars), one could buy five Yugos for approximately $3,000 each and get more total years of use. Instead of driving a Toyota Camry for 12 years, you could get three years a piece out of each of the five Yugos and come out ahead.
This is what we should do with Julio Yugo. Rather than hoping to get a full 12-year career out of Jed Lowrie, we should just take five Julio Yugos. Perfect right?
There is, however, a minor hole in this plan. Julio Yugo has the price tag of a nice car and the performance of a Titoist spin on the Fiat.
2. Following another excellent game in which he hit a triple and a two-run homer, Rococo Crisp, once the odd man out in the Boston outfield, told the Boston Herald “I’m just going with the flow.”
Jose always expected that Crisp would one day start peppering his press conferences with product placements, but he always imagined it would be for breakfast cereals, you know, because his name sounds like Crispix…
Jose never thought that he would jump into pharmaceutical advertising and start promoting prostate products like Flomax. Obviously, Flomax advertises constantly during games, but Jose just never saw them doing direct product placements in post game press conferences. But we should probably just get used to it this is probably the start of a trend.
3. In other Julio Yugo news, the embattled shortstop underwent a CT scan during Saturday’s game. According to the Boston Globe, the scan came back negative, which is no big surprise as “CT,” Jose is pretty sure, stand for “catching” and “throwing.”
Jose is pretty sure that Lugo’s SLG scan will come back negative too.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Should Julio Yugo continue as the Red Sox starting shortstop? That’s the question on everyone’s lips like so much dried spittle these days isn’t it?
The easy answer is “No of course not. What are you a moron? He can’t hit and now he can’t field either.” But that answer is only easy in the sense that Madonna is easy—everyone has used it. But that does not necessarily mean that this exhibitionist whore of an answer is correct.
Jose would like to offer an alternative answer, more chaste and refined, and therefore, more alluring while ultimately far less satisfying: We should keep Julio Yugo as the shortstop.
Now, Jose knows this isn’t the answer you want to hear, but stay with him for a moment. Jose is not proposing that the Red Sox leave things exactly as they are. That would be crazy.
What Jose is proposing is that they adopt a strategy more appropriate for our disposable, throw away, “Screw you Al Gore” society. Back when Jose was maybe 13 years old, he got the brilliant idea that rather than buying one nice car for say $15,000 (note: quite a bit in 1989 dollars), one could buy five Yugos for approximately $3,000 each and get more total years of use. Instead of driving a Toyota Camry for 12 years, you could get three years a piece out of each of the five Yugos and come out ahead.
This is what we should do with Julio Yugo. Rather than hoping to get a full 12-year career out of Jed Lowrie, we should just take five Julio Yugos. Perfect right?
There is, however, a minor hole in this plan. Julio Yugo has the price tag of a nice car and the performance of a Titoist spin on the Fiat.
2. Following another excellent game in which he hit a triple and a two-run homer, Rococo Crisp, once the odd man out in the Boston outfield, told the Boston Herald “I’m just going with the flow.”
Jose always expected that Crisp would one day start peppering his press conferences with product placements, but he always imagined it would be for breakfast cereals, you know, because his name sounds like Crispix…
Jose never thought that he would jump into pharmaceutical advertising and start promoting prostate products like Flomax. Obviously, Flomax advertises constantly during games, but Jose just never saw them doing direct product placements in post game press conferences. But we should probably just get used to it this is probably the start of a trend.
3. In other Julio Yugo news, the embattled shortstop underwent a CT scan during Saturday’s game. According to the Boston Globe, the scan came back negative, which is no big surprise as “CT,” Jose is pretty sure, stand for “catching” and “throwing.”
Jose is pretty sure that Lugo’s SLG scan will come back negative too.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
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