Learning to Love Bonds

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.

1. He like us. He really likes us.

Yes, it turns out that Barry Bonds “The Dirtiest Player in the Game” to borrow a epithet from Ric Flair, discovered that he likes Boston. During a press conference Bonds told the local media “This is a beautiful ballpark. This is a beautiful city. San Francisco’s streets are a little bit dirty and stuff like that. Being around here and walking around town it’s very clean and a nice town.” Funny, Jose would have imagined that Bonds decided he like our little burg after the Boston Police Department steroids scandal broke. Go figure.

Yes, Barry Bonds likes us, and Jose is so… so… happy?

Jose doesn’t exactly understand why, but he is grateful, genuinely grateful and relieved that Bonds has nice things to say about Jose’s beloved city. For whatever reason, when it comes to Boston, Jose is like a puppy desperate to be patted on the hand and scratched behind the ears, even if it is my a cruel and drugged up stranger, with an enormous head and well-beyond 700 home runs.

Barry Bonds may like Boston, but Jose does not like Barry Bonds. He doesn’t like that Bonds is a cheater, and the fact that he appears to be near universally disliked by his teammates makes it worse. To Jose, being a jerk is a far bigger sin than being a cheater.

Bonds is arrogant, self-righteous and cocky beyond belief. And yet when Bonds condemned Boston as a “racist city” when the Sox were playing in San Francisco a few years ago it stung Jose. It shouldn’t have. It is not as though some giant of justice like Andrew Young or Spiderman was condemning Boston. It was Barry Bonds, among the most privileged, and nasty, athletes in U.S. history. But it still hurt.

Still, the cloying praise has had its effect, and Jose has now turned the corner on Bonds, and adopted a new, pro-Bonds perspective.

Barry Bonds is not using performance enhancing drugs. Nope. Someone with such nice things to say about Boston can’t be using steroids. It’s impossible. So Jose has come up with an alternative theory.

Sometime in the lat 1990s, Bonds was inadvertently subjected to a huge blast of gamma rays. It explains everything. When Dr. Bruce Banner was subjected to gamma rays he gained huge strength as The Hulk? Barry Bonds has gained huge strength, check! When laborer and high school dropout Samuel Stearns was bombarded by gamma radiation his head swelled to enormous proportions and he became know as The Leader, The Hulk’s arch enemy. Does Bonds have a giant head? Yup.

It’s well know that radiation will shrivel one’s testicles, so Bonds incredible shrinking balls are covered by the gamma ray theory as well.

The only question that remains is why didn’t Bonds turn green from the gamma rays? But there is an explanation. Bonds was green before. He was green with envy for all of the acclaim that fellow dopers Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa were getting for their home run exploits. Since Bonds was already green, the gamma rays wouldn’t make him any greener. That said, they did add a lot of green to his bank account.

So congratulations to Barry Bonds on being cleared of steroid use. Jose recommends that, in order to clear up further confusion you take a super being nickname. Unfortunately, “The Abomination” is already taken by another gamma powered villain.

Which is the real Barry Bonds?


2. As long as Jose is in a comics mood, he might as well address the new Fantastic Four film. Even though the first Fantastic Four film was a crime against comics, Jose was prepared to see the second one for no other reason than to see Galactus, the devourer of worlds who constantly eats planets to feed his ravenous hunger. Galactus is one of Jose’s all time favorite super villains, powerful and complex and with cool head gear. Also, he coined one of Jose’s favorite phrases “The Hunger Gnaws.” But then Jose learned several days ago that Galactus appears in the movie as just an enormous miasma of dust and debris. Thank God Jose found out before plunking down ten dollars to see the movie.

Do you know what that would have been like? It would have been like going to see a really horrible baseball team, let’s say the San Francisco Giants, just to see Barry Bonds play. You’re all excited and then when you get to the game, no Bonds. No, instead of Bonds, the Giants have a big cloud of dust batting cleanup. How lame would that be? Of course, the cloud of dust would play a superior leftfield to Bonds, but that’s not the point.

Now Batting Cleanup for the Giants

3. As you know, Jose is on his fourth year of writing KEYS now, and the rewards have been, modest, let’s say. A few books sold here, a T-shirt sold there. Maybe a grateful fan offers Jose a ticket to a game, which is nice, but Jose ends up always buying food and drink, because that’s the kind of guy he is. But now things are finally going Jose’s way. The world of public relations has finally gotten to the point where they have the wherewithal to do things like bribe Jose to write about their products.

Case in point, A&E television recently asked Jose to promote a number of
Red Sox products they are peddling at low, low prices. Here’s the email
they sent.

Hello from A&E Television Networks! I recently
came across your website http://www.keystothegame.blogspot.com/. I
think your visitors would appreciate reading a review or post about any of our
Red Sox DVD collections. You can view these products by clicking

I would be happy to send you a free DVD or a gift certificate, in exchange
for a review or post on your site.I look forward to hearing from you
soon.Thanks,

PR Flack

That’s right, they didn’t ask Jose to do a review, they flat out bribed him to do it. And Jose says kudos! Jose want’s to be as clear as possible that this space is absolutely for sale to anyone who will give him schwag. Jose especially reaches out to the PR department for the WWF who keeps sending Jose press releases but has not offered him so much as a Steve Austin foam middle finger for his troubles.

Anyway, the 2004 Red Sox ALCS/World Series DVD collection came to Jose absolutely free the other day, and let Jose say, it is fantastic. He hasn’t opened it yet, but he watched it when it happened, and he remembers it being great. If you want this handsome set, normally priced at $129.95, you can get it now from A&E at a tremendous discount. All you have to do is start a Red Sox blog and get on their press list and they will send it to you absolutely free. It’s a tremendous value!

That or you can click on this link and pay for the privilege.

Either way, the important thing is that PR Flacks take note and send Jose more free stuff.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

The New Look Giants

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.

1. Jose is not much of a fashion plate. He would not thrive on Project Runway any more than Julio Lugo thrives at the top of the batting order… or the bottom of the batting order. Still, he does like to think he knows a little about uniforms and what makes a good one. Thus, he would like to make a humble suggestion to the visiting San Francisco Giants.

Yes, the orange and black is a classic look but don’t you ever want to try something at least a little bit different, a little bit fun? Sure you do, and what would you say if Jose told you that he had a uni idea that would also help you market more effectively to the Latino fans, who, according to Lou Dobbs, are overrunning your region? You’d say, “Absolutely Jose, what is it?”

Well, here it is. The Giants should start wearing the muscle suit worn by Latino professional wrestler The Giant Gonzales (note: a.k.a. El Gigante). Since Gonzalez was something of a bean pole (note: Think a Latin Manute Bol with less athletic ability), the late great Vincent Kennedy McMahon, may he rest in peace, dressed Gonzales in a skin tight suit that had muscles painted on to it and some impressive shoulder fur. The advantages for the Giants would be considerable. Not only would it be a sleek new look, the fake muscle suit would actually make Barry Bonds look less roided up.

A uni for the 21st century

2. With Barry Bonds, a legend like it or not, coming to town for the first time tonight Jose would like to see his fellow Red Sox fans show some class and not crack out the crude and tired “Ste-roids, Ste-roids” chant. It’s old, its day is past, and it’s not even accurate. Bud Selig wishes Barry were only taking steroids, given the freaky, freaky things he puts into his body. And yet sadly, nothing rhymes with stanozolol.

Thus, Jose is going to offer a more sophisticated alternative taunt that reflects the modernization and increasing sophistication of performance enhancing drugs.

The clear, and the cream,
Without them, you’d hit like Sid Bream,

You screwed up your knees,
We blame it all on PEDs

Hank Aaron’s your foil,
But he din’ need no Flaxseed Oil

3. Red Sox Legend Dave Roberts makes his first appearance in Boston in uniform tonight since the 2004 World Series. And while it is hard to explain exactly how great a man Roberts is, Jose is going to try to do it in the only way he knows how: by discussing his commonalities with another sporting legend, Mr. Miyagi.

FACT: Both were born on Okinawa.
FACT: Both have spent time living in L.A.
FACT: Both have cool beards.
FACT: Both have appeared with Jay Leno (Note: Roberts on The Tonight Show, Miyagi in the movie Collision Course.)
FACT: Jose is really stretching right now, and he has about as much in the tank right now as St. Josh a Beckett did last night.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

You might feel a slight sting. That's pride fu**ing with you.

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.

1. One would not expect to find much to be proud of in a 12-2 drubbing at the hands of the Josh Fogg and the Colorado Rockies. Jose would have been happier if the Sox had been shut down by “The Velvet Fog” Mel Torme, and yet Jose has left few games with a greater feeling of pride.

There are two kinds of pride, three if you count PRIDE fighting. Jose is quite familiar with feeling the first kind as he struts down Yawkey after a victory. It’s the kind of pride that comes from seeing a foe vanquished by one’s champion. The second kind is more elusive, both in life and in the old park in the Fenway. It is the kind of pride that emerges from seeing a friend or ally stand up for someone weaker, from witnessing an act of right in the face of, perhaps not might, by at least general jerkiness. No, Jose is not talking about Tito’s selfless defense of the increasingly indefensible Julio Lugo, but rather about the actions of one Sam Melendez.

As the margin in last night’s contest swelled from large to insurmountable, one particularly loudmouthed fan, who looked for all the world like a drunken law student, began to seek refuge in harassing a visiting Rockies fan. The young aggressor began to bellow at the Rockies fan, a portly woman in her mid-30s, for committing the unforgivable sin of being the least bit pleased that her awful baseball team was winning. “Go back to Colorado” he insisted, as he demanded that she “stop cheering for such a sh*tty team.”

This was not some Yankees fan vaingloriously inviting taunts, beer and abuse, but rather one of those pleasant mountainfolk, earnestly cheering her thin air heroes.

And still the abuse persisted. “BEST F*CKING RECORD IN THE MAJORS,” he harangued. “BEST F*CKING RECORD.”

“Hey,” came the interjection. It was a different voice, Sam Melendez’s gravely mumble. “I just want you to know that all Sox fans aren’t *ssholes.” The victim smiled, reassured that someone cared.

It was a profound truth. We’re not all *ssholes are we?

But the drunkard was out to prove Sam wrong.

“I’m just cheerin’ fer my team,” he slurred loudly. “How duz that make me ern azz hole?”

“This lady’s just supporting her team. Leave her alone,” replied Sam, barely concealing his growing irritation.
“Yer a bad fan, you should be supporting yer team, and she should GO THE F*CK BACK TO COLARADO!”

“Your mother must be so proud,” Sam retorted. Not the most original comeback but a valid comment.

“She is. You want talk to her?” He pulled out his cell phone.

Maybe his mother was proud. Maybe there are women out there who imagine that one day their sons will grow up to be drunken louts. But Sam was not prepared to ask her directly.

“That’s it we’re done here *sshole,” decided Sam

And with that Sam and Jose stood up and walked down to much better seats as the law student shrieked “BAD FANS LEAVING EARLY,” at us.

But Jose was proud of Sam, really proud, first for standing up for a visiting fan who was taking unreasonable crap, and second for refraining from beating the holy hell out of the law student. A sense of justice and a sense of restraint are two qualities that go together far too infrequently.

2. While last night’s game may have seemed like one more near meaningless interleague contest lost in the ether of a lengthy season, it should have a special sting for the many Red Sox fans who truly hate the Yankees.

This is because among last night’s victors was Rockies catcher Vorvit Torrealba, who as you can tell from the last name, is the love child of Yankees manager Joe Torre and Actress Jessica Alba. Torre had sex with Alba, known to be dating Yankees shortstop Derek Jeter, in the locker room after an early season game. The crusty Torre was able to fool the actress by wearing Derek Jeter’s “Driven” cologne and bringing “intangibles” to the encounter.

When asked to explain the indiscretion Torre stated “she was invisible, so I thought she was my wife.” When it was explained to Torre that Alba only turns invisible in her Fantastic Four role as The Invisible Woman, Torre responded “Does that mean I’m not The Thing then, and I’m always going to be stuck looking like this?”

3. After last night’s appalling five inning six run performance, Curt Euro appeared this morning on WEEI’s Dennis and Callahan program and announced that he would accept a one year $13 million contract extension if it were offered.

In other news, President George W. Bush, following news of record low approval ratings declared that he would stay on for another term if elected. Also, Kevin Costner announced that he would star in a sequel to The Postman if asked.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

Jose's Summer Concert Preview

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME

1. It’s now all but officially summer in the northern hemisphere, and you know what that means—summer concerts. That’s right all of the fun of being outdoors in 95 degree heat combined with the thrill of $10 beers. It’s just like going to a Red Sox game except your ticket purchase does nothing to finance underachieving right fielders.

This year’s big concerts include the Dave Matthews Band, Ozzy Osborne and Modest Mouse. That’s all great (note: except for Dave Matthews, who sucks) but what really excites Jose is the summer’s other big tour, the one featuring Biz Markie, Soft Cell, The Divinyls, Right Said Fred and Ratt. The tour premiers tonight at Fenway Park in Boston, before what is sure to be a capacity crowd.

What do you mean there’s no such tour and that there’s certainly no such tour tonight at Fenway? Really? Jose guesses that he just assumed that with Curt Euro pitching tonight, all of the other one hit wonders would be appearing as well. Jose’s bad.

(Note: Though believe it or not, Ratt is actually playing at Great Woods.)

2. President Bush, according to reports, had his watch stolen while in Tirana, Albania several days ago. Photos and video clips show Bush shaking hands with the adoring, pro-American crowd, and one minute the watch is there the next it isn’t. Jose has been thinking about it, and he has identified only four suspects who might be so audacious as to steal the President’s watch while the secret service looks on.

The first suspect is Vladimir Putin, who as Bob Kraft knows is fully capable of stealing expensive jewelry from off the person of American dignitaries. Putin famously pocketed one of Kraft’s Super Bowl rings during a 2005 visit. Putin is also rumored to have stolen a tie tack from Dan Rather and an intimate piercing from actress Jenna Jameson.

The second suspect is perhaps the most audacious most spectacular thief in history, exactly the sort of man who could pull a heist with millions of eyes on him and amidst the tightest security. Hell, this man could even manage the larceny if everyone knew he was going to do it. That man is of course, Dave Roberts, who historically stole second base in Game 4 of the 2004 ALCS. However, while Roberts no doubt could have pulled off the watch theft, there is evidence that he did not. Had Roberts made the steal, there would be dozens of Yankees fans swearing it hadn’t happened and insisting that he had not successfully stolen the watch and that it was still on the President’s wrist. On the other hand, this is exactly what the administration’s press office is claiming, that the watch wasn’t stolen, but Jose isn’t sure if any of them are Yankees fans.

The third suspect is Bush himself. After all, stealing a watch is nothing in comparison with stealing an entire election.

The final suspect is none other than Jose Melendez, as Jose completely stole that last Bush joke from the friend who sent him the article on the watch theft to begin with.

3. Jose is worried about Mike Lowell’s thumb injury. Not only has Lowell’s inability to properly flex and extend his thumb appeared to hurt his fielding and cool off what had been a red hot bat, but it has also badly diminished the quality of his Fonzie impression.

Jose believes there is a real danger that if the injury does not heal in the next few days, the Red Sox may have to put him on the injured reserve, unless they want to see him substitute his Potsie impression, which is not nearly as good.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

This Is Not A Test

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME


1. BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPP

THIS IS AN ANNOUNCEMENT FROM THE EMERGENCY BLOGING SYSTEM. PLEASE REMAIN INDOORS FOR YOUR SAFETY. DO NOT GO OUTSIDE UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY, BECAUSE THE SKY IS FALLING.

THE YANKEES HAVE CLIMBED TO 9.5 GAMES BEHIND THE RED SOX AND ARE NOW ONLY ONE GAME BELOW .500. CLEARLY, THIS IS 1978 ALL OVER AGAIN, AND WE EXPECT THAT BIBLICAL PLAGUES WILL BE ARRIVING ANY MOMENT, FROGS, BOILS, CATTLE DISEASE, DON ZIMMER, ALL OF THEM.

PLEASE REMAIN INDOORS UNTIL THE YANKEES ARE NOT BEATING UP ON THE TWO WORST OFFENSES IN BASEBALL AND EVERYONE NOTICES THAT THEY ARE STILL A BAD TEAM WITH MEDIOCRE STARTING PITCHING AND AN AWFUL OVERTAXED BULLPEN.

PLEASE REFRESH YOUR BROWSER EVEY FIVE MINUTES AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

2. With former Maine Senator George Mitchell leading baseball’s performance enhancing drugs investigation, Jose has to ask the question: Is this going to become a trend? Is Major League Baseball, ever time there is a scandal, an imbroglio or a catastrophe, going to get a former or current Senator to take charge of getting at the truth?

It makes sense, actually, as there is little Senators do better than offer unenforceable recommendations. And why would you go with Senators rather than Congressmen? Simply, the Senate, with its venerable tradition of delaying maneuvers, filibusters, holds and the like, is far more attuned to the game of baseball, with its stepping out of the batters boxes and conferences on the mound. Congressman, who like to conduct votes on actual policy issues rather than holding votes on whether to hold votes on policy issues, just wouldn’t get the nuance of the game, it’s elegant lethargy.

Thus, Jose offers a few humble suggestions for Senators current and former who could investigate some of the most pressing issues facing the game.

Assignment: Investigate the drunk driving death of Cardinals reliever Josh Hancock, reassess Major League policy on alcohol.
Chair: Sen. Ted Kennedy (D-MA)
Rationale: Expert on drunk driving, resulting deaths

Assignment: Run committee on family values, dealing with adultery and sexual misconduct on Major League teams.
Chair: Sen. Hilary Clinton (D-NY)
Rationale: Duh.

Assignment: Lead investigation excessive contracts for low value players.
Chair: Sen. Ted Stevens (R-AK)
Rationale: $200 million bridge to nowhere still a better investment than contracts for Jason Giambi, Johnny Damon, Kei Igawa, DJ Dru, Julio Lugo and others.

Assignment: Lead investigation of crying in baseball
Chair: Sen. Ed Muskie (D-ME) Retired, Deceased
Rationale: Expert of impact of crying on performance.

Assignment: Lead committee on race in baseball.
Chair: Sen. Trent Lott (R-MS)
Rationale: Understands historical importance of Negro leagues, long time advocate of restoring them.

Assignment: Design more equitable revenue sharing system.
Chair: Sen. Bernie Sanders (S-VT)
Rational: Only socialist in Senate, likes redistribution of wealth.

Assignment: Lead committee on free agency
Chair: Sen. Joe Liebermann (D-CT)
Rationale: Expert on switching teams, betrayal.

Assignment: Lead Committee to honor Mordecai “Three Finger” Brown
Chair: Sen. John Tester (D-MT)
Rationale: Jealous of Brown’s third finger.

Assignment: Lead Committee on Keeping Baseball America’s Pastime
Chair: Sen. John Cornyn (R-TX)
Rationale: Committed to keeping out immigrants who take jobs from hard working American pitchers and batters, keeping reggaeton out of clubhouses.

3. For all of those saddened by the Red Sox recent decision to designate for assignment left-handed reliever J.C. Romero, Jose says fear not. Jose has done some careful calculating and computation, and he is pretty sure that today, the third day after he was DFA’d, J.C. will rise and resume his place on the Major League roster. And even if he doesn’t, Jose figures we can, at the bare minimum spent the next 2000 or so years waiting for J.C. to return and save all the Red Sox bullpen. It’s really the least we can do. Remember J.C. was DFA’s for the sins of the whole bullpen… well, for that and his inability to throw strikes, but we owe him at least a couple millennia of fidelity for that.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

Jose's Back... Back Again...

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.

1. A lot of you (note: none of you) have been wondering where the KEYS have been for the last two days. After all, they were game days, it was a weekday, where the hell was Jose? Well, Jose figured that if the Red Sox bats could take a few days off, there is no reason that Jose couldn’t take a few days off as well. And Jose only skipped two days, unlike the four day break for the bats.

The other motivating factor for Jose’s break was fatigue. Jose was not really planning on staying up for all of those west coast games. In fact, he was pretty firmly committed to going to sleep at a reasonable hour. So he followed a carefully proscribed ritual.

10:00: Turn on game.
10:01: Curse out Julio Lugo for grounding to second.
10:30: Go get popsicles.
10:35: Go get more popsicles.
10:50: Curse out Julio Lugo for grounding to second.
11:00: Wonder who killed Manny Ramirez and replaced him with weak hitting doppelganger.
11:01: Flip to Cartoon Network to see which episode of Futurama is on.
11:02: Conclude Futurama episode has nothing to do with blurnsball, and flip back to game.
11:20: Get craving for Chef Boyardee Ravioli
11:21: Fight off craving with more popsicles.
11:25: Pop into Sons of Sam Horn game thread to post expletive.
11:35: Yawn.
11:50: Curse out Julio Lugo for grounding to second.
12:00: Go to bed.
12:01: Turn on radio
12:02: Switch back on forth between WEEI and WRKO to find game.
12:03: Curse Glenn Geffner
12:04: Close eyes.
12:05-end of game: Lay there eyes closed in horror as Sox fail to score against: Dan Haren, Lenny DiNardo, Joe Kennedy, Kiko Calero, other guys who suck.(Note: Yes, Jose knows Haren does not suck.)
After game: Fall asleep angry.

So Jose would wake up tired, angry and pretty much completely unable and unwilling to write a KEYS.

2. This is interesting. You probably didn’t know, but it turns out that Curt Euro had a no hitter through 8 2/3 last night. Really. Don’t feel bad about not knowing, there no way you could have. After all, no one brought it up. Jose got home during the eighth after a long day in Brockton and sat down to watch the game, and the announcers were all like “Curt is pitching well. He’s pitching really, really well.

“Duh, he’s got a one nothing lead in the eighth, of course he’s pitching well,” Jose thought to himself. It’s really bad commentary to just say ‘he’s [pitching well over and over again.’”

Obviously Jose figured it out when Shannon Stewart hit a two out single in the ninth, and Orsillo mentioned that it was Oakland’s first hit of the day, but before then, there was absolutely no mention that there was a no hitter going. It was strange. A no hitter’s pretty special right? Wouldn’t you think the announcers would say something like “Curt Euro has a no hitter through seven which puts him a mere six outs away from a remarkable feat.” But no they said nothing. It’s awfully unprofessional if you ask Jose.

And Jose kind of wonders if Curt even knew? He was just sitting there alone on the bench, no one even talking to him. He must have been lonely. Jose knows he’s not the best liked guy in the clubhouse, but it isn’t right for them to ostracize him like that. Besides don’t you think he’d like to know that he had a no hitter in progress?

The way every one was tiptoeing around it you’d almost thing there was a curse or something. But obviously no one believes in that stuff. The more logical explanation is that Remy and Orsillo are bad announcers and the Red Sox are all jerks who hate Curt Euro.

3. This weekend, Jose is going to see the Boston regional of the U.S. Air Guitar championships. Basically, guys dress up like rock stars, take to the stage and pretend to plan imaginary guitars. Jose knows this sounds absurd, but before you get all judgmental, and call it “Stupid” or “Crazy” keep in mind that the Red Sox have been pretending to swing imaginary bats all week and no one’s said boo.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

Weirded Out and Disturbed

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.

1. Weird day yesterday. Weird, disturbing day.

Why was it so weird and disturbing? Let’s do it in the form of a quiz.

Which of the following weird and disturbing things actually happened yesterday:

A. Jose learned that George “The Animal” Steel is a born again Christian.

B. Joel Piniero pitched critical innings.

C. Jose learned that Takeru Kobayashi’s hot dog eating record had been shattered.

The answer is… A… and B… and C.

Any of those things alone would be enough to screw up a perfectly good day and knock Jose’s chakras way out of alignment, but taken in combination it is the proverbial “boot to the head.” Really, it was like a “perfect storm” of weirdness. Jose is pretty sure it drowned George Clooney and everything.

Okay, deep breath. Jose needs to work his way through this. He needs to process.

First, George. Oh, George, oh George. Jose read your testimony and he is glad that Jesus cured your Crohn’s Disease. While it is not his religion, Jose respects your faith. Jose likes Jesus, and he can imagine you saying “Jesus… Nice.” In your disjointed growl and it makes him smile.

But Jose does have a question. If you are part of a church that believes in the literal story of biblical creation and rejects evolution, how do they explain you? You sort of have a Cro-Magnon thing going. And what about your fellow wrestler The Missing Link? Do you tell him that he doesn’t exist? Also, Jose knows that God forbade Adam and Eve to eat from the Tree of Knowledge while allowing them to eat from any other tree in the garden, but did He say anything about turnbuckles? Someone call St. Augustine, big theological minds are needed.

Second, Joel Piniero? JOEL PINERO? Jose was never a believer in reincarnation, but it is like Rudy Seanez has come back to us, but with a cheesy little beard. Jose was all set to write Piniero and Romero are like the new Seanez and Tavarez, except with no chance that Romero would become a beloved lunatic, but then Romero had to go and work his way out of a jam, so Jose will stick to hating Piniero. It’s not that Jose hates Piniero as a person. Jose’s not a hater. It’s just the walks, dear God the walks. If only Project Bread could get as many people to walk as Joel Piniero, hunger would be completely eliminated.

Third, upstart Joey Chestnut ate 59.5 hot dogs and buns in a qualifier for the Nathan’s Famous hot dog eating competition, setting a new world record. At first Jose was horribly disappointed that Kobayashi, his fellow Japanese guy, had been defeated marking the first time he had ever lost an eating competition to a human being. (Note: A bear beat him once on FOX.) But then Jose discovered that Chestnut had set the record in a qualifier that Kobayashi had not participated in. Big deal. This is like saying that the Yankees starting the season 0-3 and then sweeping a four game set against the Royals equals the Red Sox 2004 ALCS comeback. If it’s not head-to-head on the grandest stage of ‘em all, it doesn’t matter.

So anyway, Jose is a little disoriented and a little scared. If these sort of things can happen, God only knows what else is possible. You could even see a $70 million right fielder getting pinch hit for with the game on the line.

The Animal wins another convert.

2. With Dustin Pedroia getting thrown out at the plate by a good furlong in the 10th last night, Jose thinks the question of who is faster, Trusty Dusty, or Youks is pretty much settled. Youks is the Flash or possibly Quicksilver in comparison with Pedroia.

But that does not mean Pedroia needs to feel bad. For starters, he is the American League Rookie of the Month and there are still lots of things that he is faster than:

• Dial Up internet
• Many species of tortoise
• Glaciers
• The pace of health care reform
• Any Molina you wanna bring.

3. With the Red Sox hitting their first real rough patch of the season, having dropped four of the last five, Jose can say, for the first time, that he is genuinely happy to see Lenny DiNardo.

I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO GAME.

Calculus

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.

1. Jose was asked yesterday which he planned to watch, the Democratic presidential debate or the Red Sox-Yankees game. It’s an interesting query and a challenging dilemma. Two of Jose’s great loves going head-to-head, politics vs. baseball. It’s sort of a shame that there wasn’t a new Marvel comics movie and WWF RAW on at there could have been a fatal fourway for Jose’s attention.

The decision was more difficult than one might think, as the debate and the game had a great deal in common. Thus, Jose had to go through a difficult calculus to make his decision. Let’s call it a hedonic calculus in the Benthamite tradition, because hedonic calculus sounds super cool, way cooler than integral calculus.

• The irrelevance factor: Which has more bearing on the future, a debate eight months before the first vote is cast or a game between a first place team and a fourth place team 13.5 games out? Point: Democrats.
• The irrelevance factor part 2: Who is more likely to have an impact in the next five months, the Yankees or Dennis Kucinich? Point: Baseball
• Pitching: Who has better pitching the Yankees or the Democratic Party? Bill Richardson used to play baseball. Point: Democrats.
• Lame media moderation: If Wolf Blitzer and Joe Morgan traded jobs would anyone notice? Who pisses Jose off less? Joe Morgan actually offered a good point on Papi’s inability to get power from his legs. All Blitzer has is a creepy beard. Point: Baseball.
• Blonde ambition: Who is more ambitious A-Rods trollop or Hillary Clinton? While Hilary thinks women can find power at the polls, A-Rod’s mistress is certain women can find power on a pole. Point: Baseball
• Exciting conclusion: The Red Sox-Yankees Game ends poorly, with an A-Rod Home Run on an 0-2 count. The debate ends with journalist Eric Alterman being arrested. Point Democrats.

So Jose added up the pluses and minuses, subtracted the demerits from the merits and, then watched the game regardless of his calculation. Come on, it’s Red Sox—Yankees, it only happens 18 to 25 time a year.

2. Jose knew A-Rod’s “mine” cry seemed familiar, but it took Jose a good three days to figure it out. “Mine” is the wholly owned trademark of George “The Animal” Steele. As you will recall, in his later years, the hirsute wrestler began carrying a hand puppet named “Mine” to the ring with him. So regardless of whether A-Rod’s play was “bush,” his trademark infringement was absolutely bush. (Note: A-Rod actually has a lot in common with Steele. Steele had a green tongue, A-Rod has blue lips, Steele was obsessed with Miss Elizabeth, A-Rod is also obsessed with coked up eye candy; it keeps going and going.)

And even if A-Rod was telling the truth (note: he wasn’t) and just said “Ha” that doesn’t get him off of the trademark infringement hook. As everybody knows, HA! was the original name of Comedy Central, and they had a major trademark dispute with Henson Associates, the Muppet company. With all of this trademark infringement, the next thing you know A-Rod will be rounding the bases yelling “I feel like chicken tonight” or “you deserve a break today.” Actually, check that. If he’s going to steal a corporate motto, it’s far more likely to be Pantene’s “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.” To which Jose would borrow his cousin Sherry’s long ago response to those shampoo adds “We don’t hate you because you’re beautiful, we hate you because you’re a stuck up bitch.”

3. Congratulations to Bob Ryan on his column today which poked holes in the non-stop 1978 garbage that dominated the weekend series at Fenway. Ryan suggested that a better analogy is 1965, a year when the Yankees fell to pieces and stayed that way. It is a good analogy, but not the best. Jose would offer 1912, when another overpriced behemoth fell apart. Yes, Titanic is the perfect metaphor for the 2007 Yankees. Indeed, Jose can hardly wait until they kill Leonardo DiCaprio in the final game of the season.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

Mine and the Shaft

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.

1. After much consideration, consultation and contemplation, Jose has determined that Alex Rodriguez’s decision to yell “mine” while heading to third against the Blue Jays two nights ago, thereby causing a pop up to fall between fielders was, in fact, “bush.” (Note: Bush being a baseball term derived from the current president meaning incompetent, wrongheaded and immature.)

It’s not bush because it was deceptive, rather it was bush because it was illegal. The Major League baseball rulebook clearly states that “Offensive interference is an act by the team at bat which interferes with, obstructs, impedes, hinders or confuses any fielder attempting to make a play.”

What A-Rod did was clearly an effort to confuse, and he should have been called out.

The problem is not that A-Rod yelled, but that he yelled “mine,” which is really confusing to fielders trying to avoid a collision. Had he yelled “ha” as he claimed, there would have been no problem, unless one regards yelling out for shrimp in Chinese as “confusing.”

What’s frustrating is that there are so many things he could have yelled that would not have constituted interference. He could have yelled:

• I have a boner right now
• Jumanji
• I had sex with your wife
• The blond I was with was really a man
• I AM YELLING
• Hammer Time
• Meca leca hi meca hiny ho
• I have Smurf lips

Any of those might have worked and yet been totally legal, distracting but not confusing, yet A-Rod chose to yell the one thing that was illegal. Why did he do it? Because he knew it would work. It’s like the old Smothers Brothers bit:

Tom (singing): I fell into a vat of chocolate. I fell into a vat of
chocolate...

Dick (singing): What’d you do when you fell in the chocolate?

Both: La dee doo dum la dee doo dum day...

Tom (singing): I yelled ‘fire’ when I fell into the chocolate...

Dick (annoyed, singing): Why’d you yell ‘fire’ when you fell into the
chocolate?

Tom: I yelled ‘fire’ cause no one would help me if I yelled ‘Chocolate!’

A-rod yelled, “mine" because nobody would have dropped the ball if he’d yelled chocolate. Well, maybe noted chocoholic Troy “Yummy” O’Leary, but he wasn’t playing third.

2. The New York Post, in its ongoing pursuit of a Pulitzer, ran a follow up this morning on the mysterious blond woman Alex Rodriguez was seen with early this week at a Toronto strip club.

The Post identified the woman (note: Jose will not name her in accordance with his longstanding policy of not naming women who have sex with New York Yankees) as a 30 year old exotic dancer originally from Cedar Rapids, Iowa. This is a the latest in a long series of instances wherein Rodriguez has demonstrated questionable judgment. When asked for comment on why he would be having an affair with a 30 year old stripper rather than one of the many 22 year old groupies Rodriguez responded “I was excited running around third base. I don’t know what my intention was.” (Note: Real A-Rod quote!)

Stranger still is that the Post reported that in 2004, the Dallas Observer had reported that Rodriguez had been seen on two occasions at a swingers club. Wouldn’t a striker outers club me more his style?

When asked whether he was having sex with the stripper, Rodriguez claims to have simply exclaimed “ha,” but eyewitnesses and video confirm that he pointed toward her rear end and yelled “mine.”

Cynthia Rodriguez was unavailable for comment. (Note: Yes, this violates the no naming women having sex with Yankees policy, but since A-Rod is blatantly fooling around and his child is 2 ½ years old, Jose figures that’s more than three years since they last had marital relations, making Cynthia fair game.)

Jose has no policy against showing pictures of women having sex with Yankees.

3. As a self-conscious fellow, Roger Clemens is, of course, well aware that he shares a last name with legendary writer and wit Samuels Clemens who wrote under the name Mark Twain.

Samuels Clemens chose the name Mark Twain because in his days working the river boats river boatman would yell out “Mark Twain” when the depth decreased to the minimum safe depth of two fathoms. In tribute Roger Clemens will adopt a pen name based on things yelled around him, so upon his eventual retirement, look for a book authored by a man named either “Whereis Roger” or “Fat Traitor.” That is assuming Clemens is literate.

I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO GAME.

The Ultimate Souvenier

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME

It started with a phone call.

“Mr. Melendez,” the voice reported, soft, sultry. “Three days hence you will receive a package, sent to your abode by U.S. Post, and what is inside will reshape your world.”

“What? Who is this? What to you mean?” Jose was perplexed.

“You will soon be receiving… the ultimate souvenir.” It sounded threatening.

“How did you get this number? How do you know Jose’s address? And wait? A souvenir? Sweet.”

“Those questions are unimportant,” the voice continued. “Know only that I am an… admirer of your work. Though I must confess, I do take… exception… to some of your quips about players… shall we say… intimate infirmities.”

“What are you talking about? Jose has nothing but respect for the sexually dysfunctional.”

“No not the dysfunctional per se. It will all become clearer when you receive your present… Mike Lowell’s cancerous left testicle.” The word testicle hung in the air like a Kei Igawa curveball.

“You can’t be serious? Are you insane?” Jose’s collar seemed to be tightening. He knew it was unlikely. Will the Postal Service even deliver testicles?

“It only cost three dollars on E-Bay, but it is three dollars very well spent.”

“Do not send Jose Mike Lowell’s nut, or John Kruk’s nut, or anyone’s nut. Do you understand? Do you hear Jose? Do you--” Click. Dial tone.

Jose was left with nothing to do but wait. And wonder. And worry.

The package arrived on a Tuesday, as promised, a stark cube of USPS red, white and blue.

Gingerly, Jose took it into his kitchen and applied his car key firmly to the packing tape preserving the form. POP! The tape snapped, under the jagged metal and parted. Carefully, so carefully, Jose separated the folds of cardboard that masked secret and found…

Styrofoam peanuts.

Delicately he unpacked, removing each peanut in turn until a layer of newspaper was revealed. A round layer. Dear God, maybe it was Mike Lowell’s testicle. The newspaper gave way to a pocket of bubble wrap concealing a solid orb, plastic casing perhaps? Jose peeled back the bubble wrap to reveal… A baseball? MacGregor. Was it some sort of sick joke? A ball inside the ball?

Jose examined the item, trying to identify the mechanism that would open it to reveal what this final layer of packaging hid. He turned the horsehide slowly, meticulously in his fingers until he saw it.

The lines were smooth and fluid, dark and familiar. Jose blinked. He blinked again, unsure of whether he could actually be seeing what he thought he saw.
“J” flowed into “O” flowed into “S” flowed into “E.” By the time he saw the “M” beginning the next word he knew it. “Jose Melendez #19.”

No, rather than being some medical anomaly, the voice had sent him a genuine Jose Melendez autographed baseball.

Jose was elated. His heart beat a little faster, his breathing grew shallower. The ultimate souvenir indeed! This was far better than Mike Lowell’s testicle,

And then he noticed something. This signature? It was not his own. Who then would be signing baseballs Jose Melendez? A con man? A rogue? Or was it possible, just possible, that Jose himself was not the real Jose Melendez?

The voice had spoken truth. Jose’s world was being reshaped and his reality was becoming unhinged.

As the Yankee season gets more and more fun… err pathetic... the New York Post, it seems, has decided to take its pound of flesh from the least incompetent player on the team, Alex Rodriguez.

The Post reported this morning that Alex Rodriguez was seen in Toronto taking a woman who was not his wife to a strip bar and later his hotel room. In similarly astonishing news, the Post also reported that the Jason Giambi has used performance enhancing drugs, Roger Clemens is an egomaniac, Johnny Damon loves big fake boobs and the sun rises in the East.

But as obvious as it seems, Jose thinks we should give Alex Rodriguez the benefit of the doubt. There are plenty of other perfectly reasonable explanations for A-Rod’s dalliance with this mystery blonde.

Here’s Jose’s theory. Alex Rodriguez, who famously wanted to check out Harvard when he visited Boston during the 2003/2004 trade talks, has been taking advantage of the nine games a year in Toronto to work on a degree in sociology at the prestigious University of Toronto, Canada’s finest university. He goes to school in Canada rather than the U.S. because most Torontonians don’t recognize him because he’s not on the Leafs’ checking line. Rodriguez, is probably doing that classic undergraduate term paper on the lives and motivations of exotic dancers, and thus was at this adult entertainment venue for research purposes with his partner in what is surely a group project. Afterwards, since Rodriguez is so seldom in Toronto, they had to go to his hotel room to actually write the darn paper.

Doesn’t that make just a little more sense than the idea that one of our great athletes, and a family man, is an adulterer? If you use Jose’s favorite analytical tool, Ockham’s Razor, which dictates that the simplest explanation is most likely the accurate one, there’s really no other way to go, is there?

3. The Globe today reported that Terry Eurona has declared himself the best cribbage player in the Red Sox locker room. Unreported was the fact that Eurona’s cribbage superiority complex may have been the true cause of the A-Rod deal’s collapse back in 2004. Apparently, Tito was intimated by A-Rod’s skill, reported in today’s New York Post, at getting pegs into holes.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

First Game

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME

1. Interesting fact. Did you know that there are people on this good Earth, who have never seen a baseball game? Really. There are. But now there is one fewer.

Last night, Jose gave a Kosovar Albanian the greatest gift that an American can give a Kosovar, you know except for freedom from tyranny and pending, genocide, a chance to see a major league game. In 2005, while visiting Kosovo, Jose had tried to explain the great American game to this fellow, let’s call him Jack, but despite the innate Albanian love of all things American, he struggled to follow Jose’s lovingly hand scratched diagram.

“Where are the other eight men?” he asked when Jose explained that the batter was the only offensive player on the field. It’s all in the 2005 KEYS, you should read it. It’s excellent.

But a mere diagram is no substitute for the actual experience of attending a baseball game, much less a major league game at Fenway Park. As the emerald turf stretched before him as he emerged from the tunnel, Jack got that look that we’ve all seen in four year olds attending their first game, that we remember having ourselves when we first entered Fenway. But seeing it on a 33 year old man, dressed in what can best be described as a Miami Vice getup, is a different experience entirely. Wonder on the face of a child is beautiful, but common, wonder on the face of an adult, by contrast, is as rare as an inside the park homerun.

And that’s when the questions started.

Why is this guy going to the base? Why is a foul a strike sometimes but other times not a strike? How come the Japanese guy doesn’t pitch every day?

Some of the questions were easier to answer. Jose can explain the strike zone or the ground rule double, but others such as why Casey Blake was out after getting hit on the fingers on a swing, or why in God’s name we play Sweet Caroline in the eighth, reminded Jose that there are many things in this game that remain opaque, hidden beneath cloaks of time and behind walls of dusty tradition.

2. Jose loved Amelie Benjamin’s piece in today’s Globe Red Sox Notebook about the feud between Kevin Youkilis and Dustin Pedroia about who is slower. The centerpiece of the article was Youks claiming that his inside the park home run last night proved that he is faster. This, of course, proves nothing, as Steven Hawking could have rounded the bases on that ball.

Jose likes it because it reminds him of his feud his freshman year of high school with his friend Dan over who would be the slowest cross country runner not only on the team , but in Belmont High School history. Dan tried his best. Despite his long legs and lanky frame, he managed to run truly pathetic 10 minute miles throughout the 3.5 mile course. But Dan couldn’t compete with Jose. Jose’s inferior conditioning and general unwillingness to exert too much effort gave him the edge he needed to run 10 minute 30 second miles, allowing him to still be chugging away, long after Dan had crossed the tape. Jose’s specialty was lollygagging his way through the course and then going into the high kick down the final stretch, once everyone who had finished 10 minutes prior could see him, thereby demonstrating his grit and determination.

Only once, in the entire season, did Jose outpace another runner. Sadly, one competitor from Lexington out-slothed Jose running an astonishing five minutes behind him. Jose figures either the guy got hit by a bus while running or it was one of the Molina brothers, either way, Jose has to tip his cap.

3. Let’s be honest. As happy as we all were to see Mosey Nixon back at Fenway last night, to stand and shout and give him his due, weren’t we even happier that he was the guy up with the bases juiced in the eighth against a lefty? (Note: Yes, he did have a long sac fly rather than his more traditional “struck out swinging on a changeup away.”)

As hard as Nixon played for us, and as well as he played, there are few things in Red Sox history that Jose will miss less than watching Mosey face lefties in critical situations. On the list of things at bats has hated to watch over the years, it’s pretty much any Cesar Crespo at bat, Jim Rice with a runner on against a groundball pitcher in his last few years and then Mosey versus a lefty.

You’d think Wily Mo Pena would be making the list, with his remarkable ability to get so far ahead of an off speed pitch that he actually swings before the ball leaves the pitcher’s hand, but even if it’s futile the chance that he might inadvertently start World War III by knocking the ball to Red Square makes Jose not hate his at bats.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

Jose's Secret Love

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.

1. Jose has a secret.

It’s not a secret that he readily admits to family and friends, and sometimes he even has a hard time admitting it to himself. Deep down, Jose sort of maybe possibly thinks that he might love the Celtics more than the Red Sox.

Jose would never have guessed it. He certainly doesn’t watch the Celtics religiously like he does the Red Sox, and he would never blog about them incessantly, and yet there is real evidence that he loves them more.

In 2002, when the Celtics made their return to the playoffs, Jose had more anxiety from their first round series with the Sixers than he did for any of the Red Sox playoff games. (Note: Which, as anyone who watched a Sox playoff game with Jose knows, is saying something.) Why would he have that kind of stress, that kind of agony, about a first round series by a team that was certain to not win a championship? Love. Sweet love.

When Jose was a kid, his father introduced him to Johnny Most’s coffee and nicotine ruined larynx, and at the age of five Jose listened to the Cs come back from down 3-1 to the hated 76ers and then beat Houston for title number 14. He changed his favorite color from red to green, because red may have been a Red Sox color, but it was a Sixers color too. He prayed for playoff wins and for unspeakable tragedy to befall Tree Rollins who had bitten his favorite player—a fiery, yet strangely incompetent two guard named Danny Ainge.

In recent years, Jose’s love has ebbed and flowed, and as the tragedy of decades wore on him, he went from being a fan who went to six games in the Szabo-Hamer era, to a fan who could not pull himself together to walk three blocks to the Garden for a game a single time last year.

And then came last night. The Lottery. You know how they say buying lottery tickets is not an investment strategy? Well, the same holds true for the NBA Draft Lottery—maybe you’ll get lucky, but if winning the lottery is your plan, you’re probably screwed. On the upside, it could have been worse than the Celts finishing with the fifth pick. Though Jose’s not sure how. The only lottery he can think of with a more ominous result was the one in the Shirley Jackson short story, though who wouldn’t enjoy seeing Danny Ainge in that Lottery today, waiting to see if he’ll be stoned to death.

Does Jose really love the Celtics more than the Red Sox? Maybe not, but all he know is that on a night when the Red Sox beat the Yankees and the Celtics lost the future, Jose’s heart bled. Perhaps the love of a sports team is more like loving one’s children than like loving a spouse. Even when one feels the joy of one child, it cannot drown out the pain of another. And while Jose felt the Red Sox joy last night, they weeping of his beloved Celtics is what sat, heavily, in his heart.

2. On cheerier subjects, the Yankee team’s brief try at metaphorical sobriety ended last night, as they fell off the wagon. The return to figurative alcoholism was due largely to Mike Mussina throwing 85 mph fastballs with the obvious difficulty of an alcoholic handing a shot of Jack to a pal while waiting for his seltzer with a twist. Say what you want about amphetamines in baseball, they are clearly not a problem for Moose.

But while drugs are not the problem with Yankee pitching they may be the problem with Yankee bats. In his story today, barbiturates,” the Yankees have an even bigger problem, as barbiturates are central nervous system depressants that “produce a wide spectrum of effects, from mild sedation to anesthesia. Some are also used as anticonvulsants ,” Not exactly the thing to get bats hopping. On the other hand, it kind of makes sense. These Yankees have indeed showed symptoms ranging from mild sedation to anesthesia, yet George Steinbrenner has, somehow, been prevented from convulsing thus far.

Poor Yankees. They can’t pitch, they can’t hit and they can’t even medicate properly.

3. In other news, Manny is still Manny, Julian Tavarez is still crazy and Alex Rodriguez is still an *sshole.

The evidence? Manny popped out of his slump last night with a three run homer in the first, Tavarez was wearing shower shoes with David Ortiz’s face on them, and Alex Rodriguez was throwing elbows at Dustin Pedroia on a most dubious slide.

Basically, Rodriguez slid hard in to second as part of an effort to break up a double play. Fine. But when he popped up he headed in an entirely different direction, lofting an elbow at Pedroia’s nether regions. After watching it again on tape, the diminutive Pedroia complained to umpire Joe West.

The incident is, of course, the latest in a series of Rodriguez missteps designed to demonstrate hard-nosed play. The most famous of these, his slap during Game 6 of the ALCS, made him look less hard-nosed and more like a lady in the midst of a catfight. This is a recurring trend, as last night’s play featured him trying a little too hard to come in contact with another person's genitals. Jose is not being homophobic not at all. He just thinks it is wrong to try to grope someone under the cover “playing tough ball.” If Dustin Pedroia had been a woman it would have been just as wrong. Ultimately, the play, rather than making him look tough, made him appear weak, pathetic, and more than a little creepy.

Tonight, Jose fully expects Alex to continue this sort of behavior by attempting to break up a double play by calling Pedroia names like “whore” and “bitch” and if that doesn’t work, by scratching him and pulling his hair.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

12 Easy Steps

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME. In his New York Post column today, George King compared the streaking Yankees (note: they’ve won two in a row!) to a drunk struggling to make it through his first days of sobriety, constantly reminding himself that the goal is not to be sober forever, but simply to “make it through the day.” If this analogy were correct, Jose would declare that the relapse is coming any day now, and that the men in pinstripes will, very soon, find themselves once again passed out in a Bronx gutter, their mouths bloodied, their wallets missing and stinking of Rubinoff Vodka, cheap Kyrgyz perfume and failure.

But Jose does not accept the analogy. The Yankees are nothing like an alcoholic slogging timidly towards a better life. If they were, they would be following the twelve steps, and they decidedly are not. Just look.

1. Admitting that they are powerless over bad baseball—that their lives had become unmanageable.
Do you remember any Yankee suggesting that they weren’t “better than this?” Or that the team was unmanageable? They have a manger right there.

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than themselves could restore them to sanity.
They’ve got the great Power in Georgie Porgie Steinbrenner, but Jose is pretty sure restoration is not typically what he does with sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn their will and their lives over to the care ofGod as they understood Him.
Money does not count as God. Sorry Roger.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of themselves.
Yeah. Not the most reflective bunch. Think Johnny Damon is going to give up skanks, Derek Jeter is going to give up looking in the mirror, Jason Giambi is going to give up HGH or Jorge Posada is going to give up being a little bitch any time soon?

5. Admitted to God, to themselves, and to another human being the exact nature of their wrongs.
Note to Yankees: Your agent does not count as a human being.

6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of charachter.
See step 4.

7. Humbly asked Him to remove their shortcomings.
Humility, not really at a premium in the Bronx.

8. Made a list of all persons they had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all. Have all of the women in Boston with the now unfashionable Damon shirts gotten that apology call yet? Has Balki Arroyo gotten a call from A-Rod apologizing for striking him? Has Doug Mientkiewiecz returned the World Series ball?

9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
Come on, this is the same as step 8.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and when they were wrong promptly admitted it. Trying to release a steroid riddled Giambi six years after you signed him, when he had stopped producing is not prompt. You were wrong sure, but not prompt in admitting it.

11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His Will for us and the power to carry that out. Signing Carl Everett would be a huge move towards step, he knows exactly what God wants.

12.Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, they tried to carry this message to bad baseball players, and to practice these principles in all their affairs.
Jose eagerly anticipates the Yankees intervention for the Kansas City Royals, where they will gather together the 15 remaining Royals fans, each of whom will explain how the Royals have hurt them.

So, as you can see, even if the Yankees are indeed like alcoholics, they are not exactly skipping down the 12 steps to recovery.

No, if anything, the Yankees remind Jose of the patients in the De Niro/Williams film Awakenings. In the movie, patients suffering from sleeping sickness who have been catatonic for years, suddenly regain consciousness when given a drug called L. Dopa. But here’s the catch: They don’t stay conoscious. No matter how much the dosage is increased, the patients cannot remain permanently lucid and return to their vegetative state. There is no noble struggling against personal vice for these New York Yankees, only brief awakenings followed yet again, inevitably, by a return to unfathomable lethargy.

2. Jose noticed a lot of empty seats in the rain soaked final innings of last Saturday’s nightcap drubbing at the hand of the Braves—a lot. And for that Jose has a message.

For shame. For shame. FOR SHAAAAAAAMMMMMMEEEE.

You shame yourself, and you disgust Jose. You claim to be true Red Sox fans, the best baseball fans in the world and yet you are deterred by a 14 run deficit and driving rain? Pathetic.

Do you know how many people have told Jose that they missed the Mother’s Day miracle because they left after the eighth inning? They are even worse.

A real fan never leaves early no matter the situation. A fire in the stands? Tough it out, you’re allowed to bring in a bottle of water now. An earthquake? Like that didn’t happen every time Rich Garces ran in from the bullpen anyway? A nuclear disaster? Well, going home isn’t really going to help, now is it?

Jose didn’t even leave early during Game 3 of the 2004 ALCS, or as he prefers to call it “the worst night of his life.” No, real fans never give up, they never leave early. They do, however, occasionally forget that they have tickets and miss a game entirely. For instance, it turns out Jose had tickets to the Mother’s Day game, but didn’t realize it. Whoops!

But this is what they call a “good problem,” like too much pitching. Jose has so many tickets to so many games, that he can afford to occasionally forget a game all together. So for those of you who rant and rave about your inability to get any tickets, kindly remember Jose lighting his gas grill with unused tickets while you suck it.

3. For the first time in many moons, the Celtics will draw more interest tonight than a Red Sox-Yankees game, as the not-so-greats gather in Secaucus, New Jersey for the NBA Draft Lottery.

While the Celtics have the potential to rapidly turn around their ailing franchise by landing the first or second pick, Jose is deeply concerned for two reasons. First, as a religious Mormon who is philosophically opposed to gambling, Jose sort expects Celtics GM Danny Ainge to opt out and accept the fifth pick in order to be faithful to his values. Second, it can’t be good that Tommy Heinson, the Celtics representative at the lottery keeps saying “I hope I win those lifetime Red Sox season tickets.”

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

Be Precautious

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.

1. While Jose mentions politics in the KEYS from time to time in order to make a funny point funnier or a salient point…ummm… salienter, Jose has, as a rule stayed away from the most controversial issues of the day. Today that changes as Jose addresses—abortion. (Note: Gasp.)

Why would Jose take the risk of jumping directly into the middle of one of the most polarizing issues in American society today? Comments. Jose would like to get some more comments on this blog, and short of attacking Pride and Prejudice or Bob Stanley, he can’t think of any better way to do it then by tackling the abortion issue. Besides, the door was opened this morning when conservative/Red Sox blogger Dean Barnett took a crack at the abortion issues in today’s Boston Globe.

In the column, Barnett argued that even without believing in the Creator, pro-life is the only moral position one can have on abortion. His argument can be boiled down to one simple, logical fallacy. “Because we don't know where life begins, the only logical thing to do is to err on the side of caution -- the side of life. In other words, because an abortion might take an innocent life, it should be avoided. It should also be illegal in most cases.”

While Barnett declines to say so, he is applying the famed “precautionary principle” to abortion. The precautionary principle dictates that if the consequences of an action are not scientifically certain, one who might act should err on the side of caution and refrain. In other words, unless one is 100% certain that doing something will not cause irreparable harm, don’t do it. It is the case for inaction.

The irony of Barnett using the precautionary principle is that conservatives typically hate it. (Note: And rightly so.) Most often it is used to advocate for environmental controls to prevent global warming or to battle against the use of agricultural biotechnology. It is also, of course, insane. If it is even a tiny bit possible an action could cause harm, you shouldn’t act? What if you know that inaction will cause harm?

Allow Jose to illustrate the absurdity with a number of hilarious baseball examples.

In Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS, Grady Little, lacking certainty that his relief staff would be effective, chose not to bring in Mike Timlin, even though he had certainty that Pedro Martinez was tired. He chose the known danger over the hypothetical risk of danger, with predictable results.

In Game 6 of the 1986 World Series, John McNamara failed to remove Bill Buckner from the game, choosing the certainty of playing with a hobbled first baseman over the uncertainty of putting in Dave Stapleton. But wait… maybe that’s an issue of him not applying the precautionary principle? Maybe since he had uncertainty about whether Buckner could scoop a ground ball, putting Stapleton in would have been the right act?

Ah…Jose gets the problem now. The precautionary principle is stupid. It can be played either way. You can use it to justify inaction unless one is 100% certain that action will cause no harm (note: see frankenfoods, abortion, Grady and Pedro) or if you prefer you can use it to demand action unless you are 100% certain that not acting will cause no harm (note: see global warming, pretty much any pinch hitting situation in history.) Since there is precious little certainty in this world, you can use it to argue either side of any issue. As the Red Stripe beer spokesman might say, “Hooray pointlessness!”

What the precautionary principle is, at the end of the day, is a cute philosophical mask for a value-based decision that one wishes to make anyway. McNamara made the evaluation, incorrectly mind you, that having Buckner out there for last out was worth the risk that his injury would yield disaster. Grady left Pedro in because his baseball values told him to leave in a gassed “best pitcher” rather than go to an inferior fresh pitcher. And Barnett advocated the pro-life position because his values dictate that a risk, however small, that a cluster of cells a few week old is a person, is more important than a risk of physical or psychological harm, or any other consequence for the woman . All of those decisions are fine. They are wrong, but they are perfectly good values based decisions. But it is every bit as absurd for Barnett to claim that some pseudo-scientific moral calculus validates his belief as it is for McNamara or Grady to do so. They all hold their positions because of what they believe, not because of scientific evidence.

All of human endeavor is about weighing values and risks and making the best decisions in light of imperfect information. It is certainly what baseball is about, and it is just as certainly what public policy is about. So let’s weigh the pros and cons of the hit and run with two men on or of abortion or the death penalty, but let’s not rely on the precautionary principle as some pseudoscientific basis for our own values, be they moral or sabermetric.

2. The Red Sox head in to New York this week to take on a struggling Yankees team that has lost more pitchers than Crate and Barrel during a shoplifters' convention.

It is also a Yankees club that is considering trying to void Jason Giambi’s contract, now that Giambi, after many years and a grand jury leak, admitted to using “stuff.” Jose can understand how the Yankees would feel misled. After all, when they signed Giambi, they had no idea he was a stuff user, unlike say, Steve Howe, whose problem putting “other stuff” up his nose was legendary.

In related news, the Yankees announced that they will no longer allow Oreos in the clubhouse, particularly “double stuff” Oreos.

While coming clean about his stuff abuse, Giambi also appeared to be unrepentant about other enhancements.

“It’s a lot better with the new orthotics,” boasted Giambi to the New York Post, predicting that his new performance enhancing devices will lead to a turn around. Whether the Yankees will try to use these orthotics as additional grounds to invalidate Giambi’s contract is unknown. What is known is that they do not plan to validate the contract of Alex Rodriguez for his lip implants.

3. Javier Lopez came in for a struggling Brendan Donnelley in the sixth yesterday and got yet another double play. As SoSHer Steve Brady points out, that gives him eight double plays in 24.2 innings with the Red Sox since last year. That is downright absurd. And it gets more absurd. If you count the double plays he was involved in while masquerading as catcher Javier Lopez last year, he’s got 85.

Seriously, he is so good at turning double plays that Jose’s heard that sometimes he walks a man just to set up a double play. Other times, after a strike out he’ll run up and tag the guy in the on deck circle. It doesn’t count, of course, but Jose appreciates the enthusiasm.

Moreover, Jose can’t confirm it, but he’s pretty sure Lopez stared alongside William Shatner in the 1997 film Double Play, which rottentomatoes.com describes as “The Prince and the Pauper meets The Parent Trap, which is, ironically, exactly how The New York Times described the last Yankees-Royals series.


Okay, that was completely all over the place but the important thing is that Javier Lopez got some well-deserved love, and maybe, just maybe, moved one step closer towards not being known as “the other Javier Lopez,” or even worse “the guy Jose keeps calling Javier Vasquez by mistake.”

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

Like Paul Bunyan on Crack

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.

1. Meet Julian Tavarez, folk hero.

You may remember him from such roles as Rudy Seanez’s Siamese twin and guy who couldn’t get anyone out #2.

Who’d have thunk it? Somehow, by sheer force of his quirks and eccentricities, Tavarez has become the most strangely beloved pitcher in Boston since Rich Garces. One could sort of understand the love for Garces though. It was simply; he was fat. Who doesn’t love fat guys? Garces let every Red Sox fan know that it was talent, not physical conditioning keeping him out of the majors. Any Sox fan who saw Garces could proudly walk down the street and say “I’m not too fat to be an elite athlete.” And for that we were grateful and thus showered him with love.

So why is it that we have grown to love the lanky Tavarez, who lacks the jolly flab that made El Guapo so appealing? Jose thinks that is because just as El Guapo let all of us couch potatoes know we weren’t too fat for the majors, Tavarez lets the mentally ill among us know that we are not too crazy to play in the majors. His NWO-style pointing at first base on ground balls, his bizarre obsession with Daisuke Matsuzaka, his tendency to punch people in the face for no particular reason, the fact that he actually relates to Manny Ramirez, all mark him as a certifiable lunatic who if he wasn’t playing baseball, would be in a cabin somewhere in the woods gathering jars of urine for resale to Moises Alou as a hand toughener.

Or maybe it’s not that he’s crazy, maybe it is that he is a sort of everyman. He eats at Burger King before going to work just like us, he punches walls when he gets mad just like us and he says that if he hadn’t gone into his current line of work, he would have been an adult film star just like us.

Or maybe, just maybe, we like him because he has started to get outs. Free from the uncertainty of bullpen life. Tavarez has started to look like Derek Lowe, throwing the most leaden of sinkers for ground out after ground out, looking terrible from time to time, but also showing flashes of brilliance.

Nah… Jose likes him because he’s looney tunes.

2. Interleague play begins tonight with the Braves coming to town for a three game set. When interleague play first began it was kind of fun, as one would see the first meeting between teams in 90 years, or perhaps the first meeting ever, but as the years have worn on, the firsts have disappeared, and with them a fair amount of the excitement surrounding the games.

However, tonight the excitement returns. It would be enough that ER himself, Edgar Renteria makes his return to Boston. Heck that alone would be the biggest event since Jackie Guiterrez made his 1986 return to Boston in a Baltimore uniform, but there is much, much more. (Note: Jose cannot confirm that Guitierez ever played at Fenway in an O’s uniform, but let’s pretend.) Yes, tonight marks the return of Anthony “Buddy” Lerew to Fenway Park.

As you will recall, Lerew was a part owner of the Red Sox from 1978 to 1985. In 1983 he launched a coup to take over the team from Jean Yawkey and Haywood Sullivan. Unfortunately he forgot that the most important part of a coup is the “armed” part, thus his effort was blocked by an injunction and he lost later court challenges. Ultimately, Leroux sold his interest in the team.

What happened to him since then had been something of a mystery. He was known to have an ownership interest in the Suffolk Downs race track and to maintain involvement in a number of rehabilitation hospitals. It is the second element that is important today, as we learn that Lerew has apparently used advanced rehab technology to sculpt his body into the form of a much younger man and to rehabilitate the spelling of his last name from LeRoux to Lerew. Thus we come to this evening, when Buddy, as a starting pitcher for the hated natural rival Atlanta Braves, attempts to take an awful revenge against his former club.

3. Curt Euro’s six inning, two run, four walk, eight extra base hit performance last night was a stunning achievement. Jose can’t find records to prove it, but it may well have been the worst six inning two run pitching display in Major League history.

Jose vaguely remembers Steve Avery having an effort where he scattered 15-20 hits over six innings in 1998, but it can’t have been any worse than what we saw last night. Heck, there have only been a very small number of endeavors in all of human history that match the horrible execution AND the positive result of Curt Euro’s performance.

• Columbus discovers America—Guy think’s he’s sailing to India, totally screws up, finds continent.
• Discovery of penicillin— Genius leaves bread out ruining perfectly good bread, discovers antibiotics.
• Iraq war— War under false pretenses, managed by incompetents with no occupation plan, leads to blossoming of multi-cultural democracy in heart of world’s most volatile region.

And that’s about it. So we saw some history made last night. Jose can hardly wait for the book by Doris Kearns Goodwin.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

A Little Light Blasphemy

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.

1. With the death of Rev. Jerry Falwell, Jose has been contemplating God and religion quite a bit lately and thinking about what we can do to make this a more godly country. Rev. Falwell focused his efforts at making America more Christ-like through traditional methods, such as rallying a political constituency for Christianity, identifying particular groups as sinners hateful to God, fighting integration, going on television, and suing Larry Flint, you know the sorts of things Christ himself might have done had be a self-righteous, egomaniacal bigot, rather than the Prince of Peace.

But Jose thinks Falwell’s approach was ineffective. Just look at our society. Conservative Christians are politically ascendant and yet decadence and sin remains. One cannot change the hearts of people simply by claiming political power. The culture itself must change first, and where better to start than with our national pastime—pornography. Wait… sorry… baseball. Baseball is the national pastime. Jose has come up with a few ideas to make the game godlier.

• Starters should work on one day of rest. If God had taken four days of rest before every one day of work, He never would have found time to fake dinosaur bones and bury them all over the place to amuse scientists.
• In the Protestant tradition, players shouldn’t have to rely on umpires, baseball’s priest class to tell them what the rulebook means. Players should be able to interpret baseball’s sacred texts themselves.
• No one should play rounders, the game from which baseball emerged, ever. When baseball emerged, it superseded rounders, making it, and all of its rules and traditions irrelevant.
• What part of the eighth commandment does Julio Lugo not understand? “Thou shall not steal.”
• Since abortions are morally wrong, the Kansas City Royals, must be ended.
• Baseball cards are graven images. Cards should just list the name of a player, his statistics and his favorite Bible verse.
• Why stop at playing God Bless America in the seventh inning stretch? We should have a hymn for each inning? Who wouldn’t want to hear “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” rather than “YMCA?”
• Be frank about the fact that the wave is a ritual designed to commemorate the parting of the Red Sea.
• Make Carl Everett commissioner.

2. In the first game of this afternoon’s double header, Julienned Tavarez goes up against Zach Miner. As the Red Sox try to solve the sophomore pitcher, Jose has some important scouting data that he needs to share with the team.

Based on Jose’s careful analysis, miner is an “8”, which mean’s he is vulnerable to any player whose number is 7 or lower. These include Sergeants, Lieutenants, Captains, Majors, Colonels, Generals and Marshalls. (Note: What’s Mike Marshall up to these days? Could we sign him for one game?) However, Miner absolutely destroys scouts, who number 9, which is why there is so little good data on him.

Another important note for the Red Sox is to focus on hitting, singles, doubles and triples tonight, because while Miner has many vulnerabilities, he is the only pitcher on the Detroit staff who automatically defuses bombs.

(Note: This KEY sponsored by the Stratego Society of America.)

3. Jose would like to apologize to anyone who had planned to attend last night’s cancelled game and is unable to attend today’s afternoon makeup. Jose did not get around to writing KEYS yesterday due to a combination of busyness, crankiness, and a general unwillingness to spent the day trying to come up with snarky yet safe jokes about the impact a finger injury will have on St. Josh a Beckett’s sex life.

What he forgot is that they can’t start a weekday game without KEYS any more than one can start a car without KEYS. Sure, Jose’s supposes they could have hot wired the game, to get it started, but then the steering column ends up being an unsightly mess of holes, and live wires, not unlikely the New York Yankees.

As a result, Jose is forcing himself to write KEYS today, even though he has nothing better to go on today than comparisons of baseball to popular board games and mild blasphemy. Well tough, if you want a game, this is what you’re stuck with.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

Jose’s Orgy of Self-Reflection Continues

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.

1. Jose isn’t sure why it never occurred to him before, but he has a lot in common with Manny Ramirez. Jose supposes that he never saw it because at the surface level the differences are so stark. Manny is a tower of lean muscle, Jose is a tub of jiggling goo. Manny is a millionaire, the only time Jose could call himself a millionaire was when he was carrying around Turkish Lira. Manny is one of the best, if not the best right handed hitters on the planet, Jose got cut from Little League and uninvited from his softball team. Manny is actually Latino, Jose pretends to be Latino. See, big visible differences.

And yet the overarching similarity has been there for a long time. For years, both of us have been trying desperately, futilely, to get out of Boston.

The Manny saga is well-known. It starts pretty much the day he arrived here in 2001 and has recurred annually ever since. You know the story, Manny says he’s sad and wants to leave, the team tries to release/trade him, they can’t get equal value, he stays and says he never wanted to leave.

Jose’s story is less well known. It begins in 1993, when a young Jose Melendez vowed to go away to college, such that he could experience a place other than Boston. But then along came BU with their “being the best school Jose got into” and their “offering Jose a lot of money” and here he stayed. That put the escape on hold for a few years, but once Jose graduated, he renewed his efforts, as he began the annual rite of applying for fellowships, grad school, State Department positions etc. that would get him out of town. And one by one, year after year, Jose would fall just short. If Manny has stayed in Boston because no one was willing to offer more than Aubrey Huff and Mike Cameron for him, Jose has stayed in Boston because not even a Huff-Cameron fellowship has come his way.

But Jose’s similarity with Manny is deeper, more spiritual than simply wanting, for far too long, to flee the hub. The dirty little secret is that we both actually like it here, that we have thrived here. Manny has won a World Series and solidified his Hall-of-Fame credentials, Jose has done great things for the Commonwealth, built a great network of friends (note: a real network, not myspace) and made it to no fewer than 10 Sox games per year. Sure, we both rage and fume about the injustice of being stuck here, about the futility of our efforts to leave, but each time a deadline passes and he remains firmly inside 128, Jose is secretly a little relieved. And he suspects Manny is too.

Some day this will change. Some day, perhaps soon, Manny will leave these Red Sox and leave this city, and Jose will wander off to a new adventure, but from wherever in the world Jose lands, and regardless of whether Manny goes off to the Dominican, returns to Cleveland or visits China, we will both look back at the hub with a pining sadness, a genuine fondness for the city that made us the men we are.

2. In today’s Herald, Detroit designated hitter “Mr. Yankee” Gary Sheffield, offered Rob Bradford a new perspective on the Red Sox-Yankees rivalry from his spot in the Motor City, insights that revealed that while Sheffield’s bat may have slowed a bit, his brain is as sharp as ever.

For instance, when asked about the Yankees eight and one-half game deficit to the Red Sox, Sheffield displayed some of his famous mathematical prowess saying “When you’re eight games out, you have to make up 16 games.” Non-Euclidian geometry at its best right there or possibly algebraic topology. Who but Gary Sheffield could grasp that eight and 16 are the same? Maybe God, but that’s about it.

Sheffield also revealed his mastery of anatomy when he stated “Everybody has holes.” (Note: Sheffield may have learned this by studying tapes of his wife with rapper R. Kelly.)

The big slugger also appears to have picked up some automotive expertise in his time in Detroit, pointing out that for a motor to operate properly “It was just a matter of clicking on all cylinders.”

Unfortunately, while Sheffield did demonstrate formidable command of most areas of human knowledge, he proved himself to a have a very limited understanding of statecraft when the best idea he could offer on how to win in Iraq, was “You have to hope something drastic happens to get that to turn around.”

3. Tonight Tim Wakefield goes to the hill for the Red Sox, bringing with him his league leading 1.79 ERA and his floating, fluttering, batters stuttering metaphor for Jose’s life. He goes up against Detroit’s sophomore phenom Justin Verlander who brings an also impressive 2.83 ERA to the mound.

The question this matchup raises is: If Wakefield’s knuckleball is a metaphor for Jose’s life, for the life of whom is Veralnder’s signature pitch, his 100 mph fastball, a metaphor?

Let’s think about the qualities of Verlander’s fastball. It is absolutely filthy, no one likes to see it coming, it leaves people feeling angry and frustrated, it has real potential to injure and it gets hit hard in Boston.

Hmmm…. Jose’s got it. Justin Verlander’s fastball is a metaphor for the life of Bill Lambieer.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

Life is like a...

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.

1. With the stunning success of Friday’s “Life is a Knuckleball” KEY 1, easily the most popular KEY of the year, it has become clear to Jose that if he wants to keep the people engaged, he needs to ease up on the quippy one liners and rededicate himself to melodramatic schmaltz. After three years, Jose can at last see, that it is not the sinewy flesh of analysis that Red Sox fans crave, but the savory fat of emotion. Thus, rather than releasing another KESY book this year, Jose will instead focus his attention on a book of Mitch Alborn style life lessons (note: but not made up) entitled “Everything Jose Needed to Know, He Learned at Fenway.”

The book will be chock full o’ folksy stories illustrating valuable baseball-based life lessons such as “Never pull a pitcher who is dealing after 91 pitches with a shut out and a five run lead, just because some goober dropped a pop up with one out in the ninth.” If you apply that lesson to raising your kids, you know they’ll come out on the straight and narrow.

So, having exhausted the subject of how life is like a knuckleball, Jose will move on to a tale of how life is like the infield fly rule.

Jose has never really understood the infield fly rule. Well, that’s not exactly right. Sure, he understands it technically: If there is an infield pop up when there is a force at third, the batter is automatically out, with the purpose being to prevent easy double or triple plays. But Jose doesn’t understand it on an existential level. Would Sartre understand the infield fly rule? Would Camus?

There are lots of times in the game when a batter fails, grounding into a double play, for instance, and there is nothing protecting him from doing severe damage to his team there. There’s no infield grounder rule. Why is it that one kind of failure, a pop up, should have an offensive safety net strung tight beneath it, and another kind of failure, an easy grounder, should offer nothing but the hard ground three stories below?

Jose supposes that the infield fly rule is kind of like life. There are lots of errors one can make, lots of chances to fail, but the consequences of different kinds of failure aren’t necessarily the same. Why is it, for instance, that if one get fired for gross incompetence, there is not unemployment to cushion the blow, whereas if one gets fired because he is not longer of use, he gets government checks? In both cases there is a failure isn’t there? Unemployment fly rule, Jose supposes.

Or why is it, that if one cries going in for the first day of kindergarten his parents are caring and sympathetic, but if he starts bawling when he gets dropped off for his first day of college, he is a crybaby, to be scorned? Educational fly rule, it seems.

The simple fact is that as a society and as individuals, we are just like the Major Leagues. We place different values on different kinds of failure. For some we say, “tough break, let’s limit the damage” and for other’s we say, “that’s your own damn fault, now live with the consequences.”

And is that fair? Is it right? Is there good failure and bad failure? Deserving losers and undeserving losers? All Jose knows is that when he comes up to bat in the game of life, a base runner named work on first and a baserunner named family on second, and less than two of the life chances blown we call outs on the scoreboard, Jose will put a little uppercut in his swing. Because if he’s going to fail, he’s sure not going to ground into the double play of professional disappointment and personal immorality. He’ll risk popping it up, secure in the knowledge that the infield fly rule of life will limit the damage.

Tomorrow: How the slide step is like getting over the loss of a pet.

2. Long before the Red Sox made their dramatic six run, ninth inning comeback yesterday, starter St. Josh a Beckett left the game after four innings with what the Red Sox termed an “avulsion.” The popular theory in the press and the fan base is that by calling the pitcher’s injury an avulsion, the Red Sox were trying to make clear that this was not a recurrence of the blister problems that had sent him to the DL in year’s past. But has it occurred to anyone that the Red Sox might have used this strange medical term, not to accurately convey a lack of seriousness, but to hide a far graver injury?

Jose actually looked up avulsion on dictionary.com and do you know what it means? According to the American Heritage Dictionary entry it is “The forcible tearing away of a body part by trauma or surgery.” Very reassuring isn’t it? But Jose knows what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “Wait, Jose just chose the direst, scariest possible definition for comic effect, and that’s not what it means in this case.”

Fair enough. Do you want the other definition? It’s “the sudden movement of soil from one property to another as a result of a flood or a shift in the course of a boundary stream.” Does that make you feel better? Do you like the idea that our star pitcher is literally being eroded by a shift in the course of a body of water?

No, the use of “avulsion” this strange new technical nomenclature in a world where other technical vocabulary like, ACL, labrum and contusion are used freely, signifies something far more sinister than a blister. Jose is convinced, convinced that either Beckett lost an entire finger out there yesterday, or that he is made out of sand. Either way, it’s bad news.

3. But enough looking backwards. The Detroit Tigers come to town tonight for the first of a four game set that will pit the two best teams in the American League against each other. The red hot Tigers come to the series winners of eight of their last ten. However, they will have to struggle through this series without relief ace Joel Zumaya who is out with an injury presumable sustained playing Dance Dance Revolution or one of those Nintendo Wii games. (Note: Jose knows Zumaya got hurt playing Guitar Hero II, but when are we going to start getting the rotator cuff injuries from the Wii, that’s what Jose really wants to see.)

The Tigers team that comes to Fenway tonight is, save for the addition of Mr. Yankee Gary Sheffield, the same team that bowed to the Cardinals in five games in the 2006 World Series. And that’s why, despite their formidable record and fearsome rotation, Jose has no fear. This is a team that lost a post season game where their opposition started Jeff Suppan without even having noted Suppan’s-bitch Roger Clemens as their starter. You can’t fear that, you just can’t.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.

Jose Gets All Melodramatic

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.

1. Jose loves Tim Wakefield and Jose loves the knuckleball. Or more accurately, Jose loves Tim Wakefield because of the knuckleball. This is not a secret.

Time and time again, Jose has described how he became enamored of the knuckleball while watching one of the Niekro brothers on The Baseball Bunch. (Note: Isn’t it time for a new Baseball Bunch? Could Barry Bonds play the Johnny Bench role, teaching kids the fundamentals, like hitting, throwing and proper use of performance enhancing drugs? “Cream on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, clear on Mondays and Wednesdays and Fridays kids. But on Sunday you rest. That’s God’s time.) Jose has described his lifelong effort to throw knuckleball and how it has resulted in him throwing exactly two out of, perhaps 10,000 pitches thrown. Jose has even claimed that he likes the knuckleball because it is like magic. It is the baseball equivalent of having a 5’3’’ NBA player who is in the league solely on his ability to hit half court set shots. At least that’s why Jose thought he loved the knuckleball. But he has had a change of heart. He has, if you will, flip flopped or perhaps sandaled.

Jose loves the knuckleball, because it is a metaphor for life. maybe not for everyone’s life, but for Jose’s life. The thing about the knuckleball that is so extraordinary is that unlike other pitches, it cannot be controlled, only directed, managed. Tim Wakefield cannot force the knuckleball up or down in the zone. He cannot choose for it to be a strike or a ball. What he can do is affect how sharply it breaks by speeding it up or slowing it down. And time after time, he can repeat, with the greatest possible precision, the exact motions that have brought him, and other knuckleballers before him, optimal results. Sometimes the outcomes are excellent, and sometimes, like now or in his magical 1995 stretch, they are astonishingly good for lengthy stretches. At others, such as when he was left off the 1999 ALCS roster after he seemed capable of blowing a 98 run lead in Game 4 of the ALDS, nothing he does seems to matter.

This is how life goes for Jose. He keeps the fingernails of his being trimmed and filed to exactly 3mm, he goes out of the figurative pitching motion and does his best to make the little tweaks required to keep the knuckleballs of daily life breaking hard over the plate. Sometimes the results are wonderful. Sometimes the Jason Giambis of despair, the Derek Jeters of adversity swing and miss and look as foolish as jesters. Sometimes, even thought they swing and miss, the ball evades the catcher and sneaks to the back stop, as seemingly good fortune melts into bad. But other times, there is Aaron Boone. Other times, Jose does the best he can, rotates the horsehide of his being forward by exactly one-fourth of a rotation, and still, there is no break, no movement. Whether it is a gust of wind from the frozen north, a butterfly batting its wings in Malaysia or a fan sneezing in section 23, the knuckleball fails to knuckle, the good intentions yield bad results and the ball makes an abrupt about face into the bleachers and into the emotional void of failure.

Jose cannot control his life any more than Tim Wakefield can control his knuckleball. He can only put faith in the soundness of his actions, the purity of his intentions and know that when his wins and losses are counted up at the end of the season, his record will be a little above five hundred. No, he may not be extraordinary, but he will be effective, he will be valued and maybe, just maybe he will hit that hot streak, that mystical spot at just the right time, and he can do something truly legendary.

2. With Hideki Okajima’s latest scoreless inning last night, that man who was once known as “the other Japanese guy” is now well on his way to being known simply as “OK.”

In light of OK’s emergence as the best setup man in baseball, Jose would like to revive a long dead, failed product. Now, Jose is always looking for opportunities to revive failed products ranging from PB Max candy bars (note: if only Pedro Borbon would return) to new Coke (note: is Steve Howe dead?), but this one is special.

In the summer of 1994, a series of chain letters mysteriously began to spread through Boston and perhaps the country like Herpes Simplex II through Daytona Beach. These letters spoke of a mysterious beverage that had brought great good fortune to those who consumed it and grave misfortune to those who had not. This beverage was called OK Soda. But despite the incredibly illegal marketing idea, despite the cool 800 number where on could hear stories of the great powers of the alterna-beverage as well as bird calls, the product failed. Perhaps it was because cynical Generation Xers realized that OK was secretly a product of the Coca-Cola Corporation, or perhaps it was because it tasted like a mix of Mountain Dew, Orange Fanta (note: the American kind, not the good European kind) and day old Folger’s crystals. Either way, no one drank it.
But now that there is, at last, a credible spokesman, it is time for OK Soda to make a comeback. According to wikipedia, it can be duplicated by mixing ¼ orange soft drink,¾ semi-flat Coca-Cola a splash of Dr. Pepper or Sprite. Jose calls on all Fenway stand concessionaires to start making this concoction as tribute to OK, our left-handed life saver. Let us all join together when he enters the game, no matter the hardship, no matter the burden and raise our glasses and recite the OK Soda slogan: With Hideki Okajima in the game “Things are going to be OK.”

Official Soft Drink of the Boston Red Sox?

3. There was a brawl last night at the Boston Pops and it got Jose thinking. Jose thinks a lot about the differences between high culture, like the symphony or professional wrestling, and low culture like baseball or cockfighting, and he thinks they could learn some things from each other.

• You never hear orchestras talking about how they need a new publicly financed symphony hall to remain economically viable or how the seats are too small and uncomfortable for modern people. Why is that? Don’t they know that if an institution is important to a city they can get a free ride?
  
• Jose knows the brawl wasn’t among musicians but what if it had been? If a clarinetist got into a fight with a cellist, would the rest of the woodwinds have to get involved to defend their compatriot? Would it be a rallying moment leading to better woodwind play for the rest of the orchestral season?


• They should sing Sweet Caroline before the last song at the Symphony.


• Why no wave at the Symphony? Not during the good parts with the brass, but during the boring string solos?


• Do professional musicians ever refuse to talk to jerk music critics?


• Jose is always quick to condemn performance enhancing drugs in sports, but so many musicians throughout history have used drugs to enhance their performance. From Miles Davis and pot, to Yo-Yo Ma’s crystal meth habit. Should Jose be condemning them too?


• Given that the Boston Pops is basically the Boston Symphony Orchestra minus the best player in each instrumental section and plus someone worse in each section, why are they so celebrated? Isn’t it a little like taking the staring nine and top two pitchers away from the Red Sox, and bringing up 11 minor leaguers to fill in. Jose wouldn’t care how charming and cute the manager was, he still wouldn’t want to watch it.

I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.