It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Japanese culture, the rituals that precede the epic confrontation between Japans’ two biggest baseball stars, Mr. Matsu and Ichiro, this evening may confuse you. In order to assist you, Jose has put the one-eight of his brain that is Japanese to work, summarizing the finest guides to the ritual, the internet has to offer.
Matsuzaka mounts the mound and Ichiro enters the batter box even though first pitch may be minutes away. There are strict traditions and rituals that must be obeyed in preparation for the at bat. The pitcher and batter first face away from each other and perform shiko, a foot stomping ritual which drives demons from the field. Next, each takes ladle of water Matsuzaka from a relief pitcher, probably Hideki Okajima, and Ichiro from the man on deck. The water purifies the field. Also, for Ichiro’s benefit, it slows down the infield.
Next each takes a first handful of salt and throws it onto the field, infuriating the ground crew, who will now have to deal with brown spots for the rest of the year. Each then squats and faces the other. From here they clap their hands in unison, in the rhythm of the intro to “Put Me in Coach” to summon the gods. Gods love clapping. The players also turn their palms upwards, as if to say, “come here and let’s play that game where I try to slap your hand and you try to get away.”
Then comes the stare down. Each man crouches down and glares at the other. Eye black helps! Over the course of the next several minutes, the cycle of stare downs and sewing the ground with salt continues cyclically, until one man blinks or starts to laugh.
How can you tell when it’s time for the first pitch?
Well, aside from the yelling of “play ball," the umpire will offer a cloth to each player to wipe the sweat off of his hands, or alternatively, to blow his nose.
Now and only now, with the elegant, ancient ritual complete, the park purified, the warriors cleaned of sweat does Matsuzaka strike out Ichiro on five pitches. Banzai!
Please try to be sympathetic to what may seem like a strange and foreign custom. And remember, even though the ritual preceding the first pitch may take a full five minutes, we can handle it. It can’t possible take longer than Nomar’s ritual before each pitch.
(Note: Thanks to Canada’s Sumo page, for providing insight into this mysterious ritual. See Ron Borges how easy it is to not plagiarize?)
2. While the NESN television crew (note: or so Jose heard) failed to immediately identify the long standing animus between Sox reliever Brendan Donnelly and the Mariners’ Jose Guillen, the Globe’s Nick Cafardo did a nice write up today capturing the sordid history. (Note: Reader Moises Sabina of Portland, Maine suggested that Jose nickname Donnelly “Brendan ‘Black’ Donnelly,” in honor of what is apparently a popular television program. Not a terrible idea. However, in light of the recent trouble radio host Don Imus has gotten into over racial remarks about the Rutgers women’s basketball team, Jose thinks he will skip anything that could ever, even vaguely by the most self-righteous of people, be interpreted as a racial remark. Moises may not understand this, as there are few people of color in Portland, Maine, but the only way this joke would be appropriate is to call him Brendan “African-American” Donnelly. And that’s not funny. Wait… hold on. Al Sharpton on line one.)
But Jose digresses. While Cafardo did a good job of identifying the most obvious causes of the feud (note: Guillen through a fit when Donnelly and other Angles pitchers did not issue retaliatory beanballs in 2004, and responded by pointing out pine tar on Donnelly’s glove in 2005) he missed what we liberals call “ the root causes.”
Let’s look at the timeline:
March 6, 2004—Donnelly tells Guillen the seat next to him on spring training bus to Tucson is taken. It is not.
March 10, 2004—Guillen calls Donnelly a “stupid head.”
April 4, 2004— Donnelly sticks hand of sleeping Guillen in warm water—leading to nickname “piss boy.”
April 29, 2004—Guillen has sex with Donnelly’s mother.
April 29, 2004—Donnelly’s mother gives Guillen herpes
May 15, 2004—Guillen breaks Donnelly’s glasses
May 30, 2004—Donnelly calls INS on Guillen.
June 7, 2004—Guillen calls DEA on Donnelly
June 20, 2004—Donnelly post some really mean stuff on Guillen’s myspace page about how he’s a whore and how he thinks he’s so great but he’s not.
July 4, 2004—Guillen celebrates Fourth of July by putting cherry bomb in Donnelly’s locker.
July 20, 2004—Donnelly tells Guillen to go back to Hati.
July 20, 2004—Guillen corrects Donnelly on the geography of Hispaniola.
August 1, 2004—Peace and Truce of God, nothing happens.
August 2, 2004—Donnelly replaces Guillen’s normal bats with sticks of TNT.
August 20, 2004—Guillen blows up Donnelly’s car.
September 5, 2004—Donnelly puts Guillen through a table.
September ???, 2004—Guillen rips Angels pitchers for failing to retaliate after hit batsmen,
September 27, 2004—Guillen suspended for remainder of season without pay.
September 29, 2004—Guillen suspends Donnelly naked from a flag pole in front of Angel Stadium.
December 25, 2004—Donnelly sends Guillen lump of coal for Christmas.
January 6, 2005—Guillen sends Donnelly Hunta virus for Greek Christmas
June 14, 2005—Guillen points out Donnelly has pine tar on his glove, Donnelly suspend eight games
April 11, 2006—Donnelly strike out Guillen on three pitches in Fenway debut,
April 11, 2006--Guillen acts like a punk.
Jose’s not saying it’s Spiderman vs. Dr. Octopus or Shawn Michaels vs. Brett Hart or even that it’s The Cosby Show vs. The Simpsons. But there’s a lot of history and it’s not pretty. And you know what they say about history. He who doesn’t learn from history is doomed to take a fastball in the ear.
3. According to the Globe, peppy new shortstop Julio Lugo struggled to find his way to Fenway Park for yesterday’s home opener and nearly arrived late to the ballpark. Sources say that, while Lugo drove very quickly, far quicker than his predecessor at short Alex Gonzalez, his failure to get his foot set on the break pedal before making decisions about which way to go led to some sloppy performance and possibly to inadvertently throwing away his map.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Wednesday, April 11
Tuesday, April 10
Just Another Game That Jose Doesn't Have a Ticket For
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Wow it’s the home opener. Super great. Jose is so excited. Fenway reopening, new Conigliaro’s corner, snazzy new super duper ultra max premium seating with built in massage, blah, blah, blah. It doesn’t get any better than this, or something.
Really, it’s the home opener, what could be more fantabulous? After all, this is, what ,the seventh game of the season? That’s a lucky, lucky number.
Okay, have you caught the sarcasm in Jose’s tone yet? Can you tell that he is less than overwhelmed that it is the home opener. You know why? Because the home opener is a sorry, lazy excuse for a real opener, a man’s opener that begins on the first day of the season. Jose has been to the home opener twice, once in 1987 and once last year and on neither occasion was it the real opener. In 1987, he cried like a little girl, not because of the touching tribute to the defending AL champions, not because spring was back, but because we had trouble finding parking and he missed what was, as best he can recall, Al Nipper’s first inning of work. Sure who wouldn’t cry at lost time with Al Nipper? But still, he was a baby, and all he was crying about what was just another regular season game. Real fans travel to Kansas City or Oakland or wherever to get their fix as quickly as possible. What did Jose do? Nothing. That’s what.
So what is the big deal about today? It’s the Red Sox and St. Josh a Beckett versus a lousy Seattle team with God only knows who on the mound. Whoop–de-freaking-do. (Note: Jeff Weaver. Even more whoop-de-do. Blunts for everyone.)
Sit out in the cold, drinking $7 beers and chomping on stuffed intestines? No thank, you, no thank you at all. Jose would much rather be in his office creating jobs… unlike his boss a Mariners fan who gets to the game. Not that Jose is bitter.
2. This harkens back to the weekend’s series with the Rangers, but Jose still wants to mention it. Has anyone thought about the implications of Sammy Sosa’s return to Texas for national security?
Back in the 2000 presidential campaign, then Texas Governor George W. Bush answered a question about what his worst mistake had been, by saying that it had been trading Sammy Sosa when he was owner of the Texas Rangers. Now that Sosa has returned to Arlington, what is the “after action report” going to teach the President? What will be the lessons learned?
Here’s what Jose fears. What keep Jose up and night is the concern that president will conclude that if we leave the U.S. military in Iraq for 18 years, we can just get them back no problem, and so what if their a lot less strong and effective? Sammy hit a homer against the Red Sox didn’t he?
Jose would urge the President to learn a different lesson. When he traded Sosa along with Wilson Alvarez and Scott Fletcher to the White Sox in 1989, at least he got Harold Baines in return. Harold Baines was ho hum with the Rangers, but he was, over the course of his career, a terrific hitter. So, if we’re going to send something valuable to Iraq for 18 years, lives, money etc. at least try to get something of value in return: democracy, economic security, peace, something. Because right now, the war is looking an awful lot like Jeff Bagwell for Larry Anderson.
3. In a move that seems designed to increase the team’s depth, the Red Sox yesterday acquired Diamondbacks pitching prospect J.D. Durbin. In addition to giving the Sox another live arm in the minor leagues, the acquisition of Jonathan Adam Durbin gives the Red Sox depth in “people named J.D. who’s given first and middle names do not begin with J. D. in sequence.”
The move is reminiscent of 1993 when the Red Sox attempted to bolster a sagging line up and questionable pitching by stocking up on Scotts, combing infielders Scott Fletcher (note: appearing twice in this KEYS!) and Scott “The Worst Two Time All-Star Ever” Cooper, with pitchers Scott Bankhead and Scott Taylor.
The Patriots also attempted the Scott strategy in 1993, carrying quarterbacks Scott Zolak and Scott Secules, running back Scott Lockwood and kicker Scott Sisson.
The Celtics efforts to acquire Byron Scott were, however, unsuccessful.
The end result of this bold strategy was an 80-82 baseball team, a 5-11 football team, and a 45 percent increase in the market price of haggis in Boston.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Wow it’s the home opener. Super great. Jose is so excited. Fenway reopening, new Conigliaro’s corner, snazzy new super duper ultra max premium seating with built in massage, blah, blah, blah. It doesn’t get any better than this, or something.
Really, it’s the home opener, what could be more fantabulous? After all, this is, what ,the seventh game of the season? That’s a lucky, lucky number.
Okay, have you caught the sarcasm in Jose’s tone yet? Can you tell that he is less than overwhelmed that it is the home opener. You know why? Because the home opener is a sorry, lazy excuse for a real opener, a man’s opener that begins on the first day of the season. Jose has been to the home opener twice, once in 1987 and once last year and on neither occasion was it the real opener. In 1987, he cried like a little girl, not because of the touching tribute to the defending AL champions, not because spring was back, but because we had trouble finding parking and he missed what was, as best he can recall, Al Nipper’s first inning of work. Sure who wouldn’t cry at lost time with Al Nipper? But still, he was a baby, and all he was crying about what was just another regular season game. Real fans travel to Kansas City or Oakland or wherever to get their fix as quickly as possible. What did Jose do? Nothing. That’s what.
So what is the big deal about today? It’s the Red Sox and St. Josh a Beckett versus a lousy Seattle team with God only knows who on the mound. Whoop–de-freaking-do. (Note: Jeff Weaver. Even more whoop-de-do. Blunts for everyone.)
Sit out in the cold, drinking $7 beers and chomping on stuffed intestines? No thank, you, no thank you at all. Jose would much rather be in his office creating jobs… unlike his boss a Mariners fan who gets to the game. Not that Jose is bitter.
2. This harkens back to the weekend’s series with the Rangers, but Jose still wants to mention it. Has anyone thought about the implications of Sammy Sosa’s return to Texas for national security?
Back in the 2000 presidential campaign, then Texas Governor George W. Bush answered a question about what his worst mistake had been, by saying that it had been trading Sammy Sosa when he was owner of the Texas Rangers. Now that Sosa has returned to Arlington, what is the “after action report” going to teach the President? What will be the lessons learned?
Here’s what Jose fears. What keep Jose up and night is the concern that president will conclude that if we leave the U.S. military in Iraq for 18 years, we can just get them back no problem, and so what if their a lot less strong and effective? Sammy hit a homer against the Red Sox didn’t he?
Jose would urge the President to learn a different lesson. When he traded Sosa along with Wilson Alvarez and Scott Fletcher to the White Sox in 1989, at least he got Harold Baines in return. Harold Baines was ho hum with the Rangers, but he was, over the course of his career, a terrific hitter. So, if we’re going to send something valuable to Iraq for 18 years, lives, money etc. at least try to get something of value in return: democracy, economic security, peace, something. Because right now, the war is looking an awful lot like Jeff Bagwell for Larry Anderson.
3. In a move that seems designed to increase the team’s depth, the Red Sox yesterday acquired Diamondbacks pitching prospect J.D. Durbin. In addition to giving the Sox another live arm in the minor leagues, the acquisition of Jonathan Adam Durbin gives the Red Sox depth in “people named J.D. who’s given first and middle names do not begin with J. D. in sequence.”
The move is reminiscent of 1993 when the Red Sox attempted to bolster a sagging line up and questionable pitching by stocking up on Scotts, combing infielders Scott Fletcher (note: appearing twice in this KEYS!) and Scott “The Worst Two Time All-Star Ever” Cooper, with pitchers Scott Bankhead and Scott Taylor.
The Patriots also attempted the Scott strategy in 1993, carrying quarterbacks Scott Zolak and Scott Secules, running back Scott Lockwood and kicker Scott Sisson.
The Celtics efforts to acquire Byron Scott were, however, unsuccessful.
The end result of this bold strategy was an 80-82 baseball team, a 5-11 football team, and a 45 percent increase in the market price of haggis in Boston.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Friday, April 6
Rock, Paper, Scissors
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME
1. He really is “The Devious One.”
Forget about the snazzy array of fastballs, sliders and change ups Mr. Matsu showed yesterday in his American debut, forget about the fact that, for the first time since Pedro left town, a Red Sox game had that “any time this guy pitches something amazing could happen” feeling. Forget it all. What struck Jose was the mind games. Devious, indeed.
According to the Red Sox radio broadcast, prior to the game Mr. Matsu apparently announced that his first regular season pitch in the Majors was going to be a fastball. He came right on out and said it. That is, of course, insane. David DeJesus is a legitimate Major Leaguer, and near .300 hitter, and you’re just going to tell him what the first pitch is? It is lunacy, it is irresponsible, it is… brilliant.
It’s like Rock, Paper, Scissors really. For years, Jose could not beat his brother at RPS. Couldn’t do it. Whenever there was an important decision to be made, like who would get the window seat on an airplane, or who would get mom’s liver in a pinch, we’d go RPS, and Jose would lose. Every time he would lose. Maybe he could pick out one win in a best of three series, but he was absolutely the pre-2004 Red Sox. No matter what he did, no matter what he tried, he always came up short. But then he learned to be devious. One day, he heard a story on NPR about the world Rock, Paper, Scissors championship. In it, the reporter went up against a professional, who told her, in a very intense manner, before they began “I’m going to throw rock.” And here’s the amazing thing. He did throw rock. And he won.
He told her what he was going to do, he did it, and she responded by doing the one thing that would guarantee defeat, throwing scissors. Jose was amazed. Since then, he has adopted this strategy. And his fortunes have changed considerably. Now he reliably wins RPS showdowns with his brother by declaring “Jose is going to throw rock” before each throw. And in his brother’s eyes, in that brief second before the throw, Jose can tell what he’s thinking, whether he sees the loyal and honest brother, who surely would never lie about something as inconsequential as his next throw, or whether he sees the aggressive older brother, twisting his arm behind his back until he tapped out in backyard wrestling matches. And with that knowledge, Jose can identify the right throw to make.
This is basically what Matsuzaka did yesterday. He looked David DeJesus, straight in the eye, told him what he was going to throw, and then threw it.
The truth. How much more devious can you get?
Because while it was the truth in that case, the truth sets up the future lie. He did what he said he was going to do, making it all the more astonishing at some key point in the future when Mr. Matsu will reveal what he plans to do and then NOT do it. Even the home run DeJesus hit in the sixth (note: by the way, he fouled off Dice-K’s first pitch) was probably an ultimate setup for something big down the road. At least, that’s Jose’s story.
But this is far bigger than DeJesus.
Sometime in the future, Mr. Matsu will casually tip a pitch, let some critical batter know his plan, perhaps at the biggest moment of his career. And at that moment, the batter will know, will be certain, that the fastball is coming. After all, Matsuzaka told the truth to David DeJesus. And he’ll see it in slow motion, the ball flying out of Dice-Ks hand, spinning toward the plate.
“He did it, he really did it,” the batter will think. “He tipped fastball, and now it’s coming. I’ve got a bead on it, I’m going to crush, it. I’m going to be the hero.”
His shoulder makes the violent transition from cocked to swinging, his weight shifts from back foot to front, and the slab of ash whips around like a… well, like a whip. Collision imminent, bat to ball, he tenses his forearm ready for the recoil, and then…
Back to full speed. The ball drops. Drops heavy, like a ton of bricks on Jupiter. Woosh. Strike three, side retired.
And there’s the batter, twisted, contorted, with nothing to do, nothing to think save “But he tipped fastball. He told me he was throwing fastball.”
Rock, paper scissors shoot.
God, the truth can be devious.
2. With all of the attention that has been lavished on Matsuzaka thus far, all of the in depth analysis of his pitches, his background, his wife, the origin of his first name, foods that have been named for him and so on, you’d think someone would have paid attention to his atypically spectacular ass. But no.
Not until someone asked Rococo Crisp to comment on how Matsuzaka looked from center field, did anyone bother to point out “He’s got a nice butt.”
How has this not been news? Jose can say, as a nominally Japanese guy, that we are not known for our butts. We are not a proud-assed people. And yet, Matsuzaka has the stamp of approval from his center fielder. This is nothing short of astonishing. It is as improbable as the birth of a two headed pig, the emergence of an eight foot tall man or Alfonso Soriano taking a walk. Jose never thought he’d see it in his life time and yet here it is. For decades we Japanese have been know for our craftsmanship, our austere elegance and our mastery of kung fu, but now, at long last, we are finally, finally know for producing one great ass.
The pride of a nation
1. He really is “The Devious One.”
Forget about the snazzy array of fastballs, sliders and change ups Mr. Matsu showed yesterday in his American debut, forget about the fact that, for the first time since Pedro left town, a Red Sox game had that “any time this guy pitches something amazing could happen” feeling. Forget it all. What struck Jose was the mind games. Devious, indeed.
According to the Red Sox radio broadcast, prior to the game Mr. Matsu apparently announced that his first regular season pitch in the Majors was going to be a fastball. He came right on out and said it. That is, of course, insane. David DeJesus is a legitimate Major Leaguer, and near .300 hitter, and you’re just going to tell him what the first pitch is? It is lunacy, it is irresponsible, it is… brilliant.
It’s like Rock, Paper, Scissors really. For years, Jose could not beat his brother at RPS. Couldn’t do it. Whenever there was an important decision to be made, like who would get the window seat on an airplane, or who would get mom’s liver in a pinch, we’d go RPS, and Jose would lose. Every time he would lose. Maybe he could pick out one win in a best of three series, but he was absolutely the pre-2004 Red Sox. No matter what he did, no matter what he tried, he always came up short. But then he learned to be devious. One day, he heard a story on NPR about the world Rock, Paper, Scissors championship. In it, the reporter went up against a professional, who told her, in a very intense manner, before they began “I’m going to throw rock.” And here’s the amazing thing. He did throw rock. And he won.
He told her what he was going to do, he did it, and she responded by doing the one thing that would guarantee defeat, throwing scissors. Jose was amazed. Since then, he has adopted this strategy. And his fortunes have changed considerably. Now he reliably wins RPS showdowns with his brother by declaring “Jose is going to throw rock” before each throw. And in his brother’s eyes, in that brief second before the throw, Jose can tell what he’s thinking, whether he sees the loyal and honest brother, who surely would never lie about something as inconsequential as his next throw, or whether he sees the aggressive older brother, twisting his arm behind his back until he tapped out in backyard wrestling matches. And with that knowledge, Jose can identify the right throw to make.
This is basically what Matsuzaka did yesterday. He looked David DeJesus, straight in the eye, told him what he was going to throw, and then threw it.
The truth. How much more devious can you get?
Because while it was the truth in that case, the truth sets up the future lie. He did what he said he was going to do, making it all the more astonishing at some key point in the future when Mr. Matsu will reveal what he plans to do and then NOT do it. Even the home run DeJesus hit in the sixth (note: by the way, he fouled off Dice-K’s first pitch) was probably an ultimate setup for something big down the road. At least, that’s Jose’s story.
But this is far bigger than DeJesus.
Sometime in the future, Mr. Matsu will casually tip a pitch, let some critical batter know his plan, perhaps at the biggest moment of his career. And at that moment, the batter will know, will be certain, that the fastball is coming. After all, Matsuzaka told the truth to David DeJesus. And he’ll see it in slow motion, the ball flying out of Dice-Ks hand, spinning toward the plate.
“He did it, he really did it,” the batter will think. “He tipped fastball, and now it’s coming. I’ve got a bead on it, I’m going to crush, it. I’m going to be the hero.”
His shoulder makes the violent transition from cocked to swinging, his weight shifts from back foot to front, and the slab of ash whips around like a… well, like a whip. Collision imminent, bat to ball, he tenses his forearm ready for the recoil, and then…
Back to full speed. The ball drops. Drops heavy, like a ton of bricks on Jupiter. Woosh. Strike three, side retired.
And there’s the batter, twisted, contorted, with nothing to do, nothing to think save “But he tipped fastball. He told me he was throwing fastball.”
Rock, paper scissors shoot.
God, the truth can be devious.
2. With all of the attention that has been lavished on Matsuzaka thus far, all of the in depth analysis of his pitches, his background, his wife, the origin of his first name, foods that have been named for him and so on, you’d think someone would have paid attention to his atypically spectacular ass. But no.
Not until someone asked Rococo Crisp to comment on how Matsuzaka looked from center field, did anyone bother to point out “He’s got a nice butt.”
How has this not been news? Jose can say, as a nominally Japanese guy, that we are not known for our butts. We are not a proud-assed people. And yet, Matsuzaka has the stamp of approval from his center fielder. This is nothing short of astonishing. It is as improbable as the birth of a two headed pig, the emergence of an eight foot tall man or Alfonso Soriano taking a walk. Jose never thought he’d see it in his life time and yet here it is. For decades we Japanese have been know for our craftsmanship, our austere elegance and our mastery of kung fu, but now, at long last, we are finally, finally know for producing one great ass.
The pride of a nation
3. According to the bloated harpies at the Inside Track, Megatron Lowe, has been conducting a revisionist campaign to rewrite the story of his failed marriage. According to Lowe, he did not begin to engage in sexual intercourse with Fox Sports Net reporter Carolyn Hughes until after his marriage had ended, despite strong evidence to the contrary. “We just made out,” said the formerly Paranoid Android (note: in Jose’s imagination). “And it’s been established by Congress that oral does not is not adultery. So no big deal.”
Lowe added “Also, I never got taken out of the rotation for the 2004 playoffs, I asked to go to long relief. And I won two games in the 2003 ALCS. Also, I am the Sultan of Freedonia.”
In related news, Derek Lowe is still a hero, a legend really. He’s a sort of sleazy adulterous hero, but a hero nevertheless.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Thursday, April 5
Novelty Food
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME
1. You know what Jose loves about having a new star athlete in town? He loves all of the gimmick foods they come up with to leech off of the new guy’s celebrity, the ichi-roll in Seattle, Wade Boggs’ “.352 Bar” candy, Tim’s Pickled Na(Herring) and, of course, the delicious Rico Bolonga. (Note: Jose’s Bologna has a first name, it is R-I-C-O.)
And now you’ve got Mr. Matsu. It’s terrific that some Japanese restaurants have introduced some special Matsuzaka-themed products like Matsuzaka Maki, and the like, but let’s be honest that’s not that imaginative. Naming a sushi roll after a Japanese ball player? How’s that more clever than, say El Pelon Taqueria naming a burrito after Rich Garces or Zaftigs naming a knish after Kevin Youkilis.
Actually, Jose brings up Youks for a reason, in that, Boston’s Jewish community has taken the lead in provide creative ideas on the Matsuzaka-themed food front. Apparently, in honor of the Japanese star’s debut, the Jewish community has not only named a food after him, but plan to incorporate it into their ancient religious rites. The novelty food, a flat, cracker like item, completely without leavening agents is used in the “Passover” ritual, an annual rite that commemorates the great miracle in 1994 when eleven teams “passed over” Nomar Garciaparra for players lie Ben Grieve and Antone Williamson to allow the Red Sox to pick him in the twelfth spot. The cracker used in the commemoration of this Passover honors the Japanese righty by taking the simple, sweet name “Matsu.”
That said, a note to the good people at Manischewitz, you misspelled Daisuke’s name. It’s M-A-T-S-U, not M-A-T-Z-O-H. Still, it’s a solid, creative effort.
2. Great news everyone, Sox skipper Terry Eurona has seen a picture of Mt. Fuji. When asked whether he had any advice for Mr. Matsu on how to dress in the cold weather, Tito replied “They’ve got snow on their mountains, don’t they? There’s got to be some cold weather.” He’s sharp, that Tito.
Later when asked how he expected his team’s many Domincans to manage through the dog days of summer, Tito answered “The tropics are hot!” He also responded questions about Jonathan Paplebon‘s ability to return to the closer job by stating “there was a hurricane in Louisiana” and questions about Jason Varitek’s alma mater Georgia Tech is in a state founded as a debtors prison.
By the way, as long as we’re talking about non-answers to questions. Jose, as a former media professional, would like to offer Tito some advice. You know how Jimy Williams would answer every question “manager’s decision?” Jose would like to see Tito adopt his own avoid all phrase. Jose’s thought is that Eurona should rip off those guys who put the Cartoon Network LED’s all over Boston, and answer every annoying question “I’m sorry, that’s not a hair related question.” This is great because a) Tito is bald b) there’s lots of wacky hair on the Red Sox and c) it could potential force Dan Shaughnessy to address his nappy ‘fro. An equally good evasive answer would be “I'm not here to talk about the past. I'm here to be positive about this subject.”
Do you think Curt struggled becasuse he's been blogging too much?
Sorry, sir, but that's not a hair-related question.
3. Which do you think is getting bigger press coverage in Japan, Daisuke Matsuzaka’s Major League debut this week or the induction of the legendary Mr. Fuji into the WWF Hall of Fame? Also, since Mr. Matsu has any number of crafty and duplicitous pitches, would it be alright to steal Mr. Fuji’s nickname “The Devious One” and apply it to him or would that be racist? Jose thinks it would be fine, because the Pearl Harbor driven stereotype of Japanese as sneaky really went out with the invention of the Toyota. It would really only be racist if Jose started calling him “The Mathematically Gifted One.”
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. You know what Jose loves about having a new star athlete in town? He loves all of the gimmick foods they come up with to leech off of the new guy’s celebrity, the ichi-roll in Seattle, Wade Boggs’ “.352 Bar” candy, Tim’s Pickled Na(Herring) and, of course, the delicious Rico Bolonga. (Note: Jose’s Bologna has a first name, it is R-I-C-O.)
And now you’ve got Mr. Matsu. It’s terrific that some Japanese restaurants have introduced some special Matsuzaka-themed products like Matsuzaka Maki, and the like, but let’s be honest that’s not that imaginative. Naming a sushi roll after a Japanese ball player? How’s that more clever than, say El Pelon Taqueria naming a burrito after Rich Garces or Zaftigs naming a knish after Kevin Youkilis.
Actually, Jose brings up Youks for a reason, in that, Boston’s Jewish community has taken the lead in provide creative ideas on the Matsuzaka-themed food front. Apparently, in honor of the Japanese star’s debut, the Jewish community has not only named a food after him, but plan to incorporate it into their ancient religious rites. The novelty food, a flat, cracker like item, completely without leavening agents is used in the “Passover” ritual, an annual rite that commemorates the great miracle in 1994 when eleven teams “passed over” Nomar Garciaparra for players lie Ben Grieve and Antone Williamson to allow the Red Sox to pick him in the twelfth spot. The cracker used in the commemoration of this Passover honors the Japanese righty by taking the simple, sweet name “Matsu.”
That said, a note to the good people at Manischewitz, you misspelled Daisuke’s name. It’s M-A-T-S-U, not M-A-T-Z-O-H. Still, it’s a solid, creative effort.
2. Great news everyone, Sox skipper Terry Eurona has seen a picture of Mt. Fuji. When asked whether he had any advice for Mr. Matsu on how to dress in the cold weather, Tito replied “They’ve got snow on their mountains, don’t they? There’s got to be some cold weather.” He’s sharp, that Tito.
Later when asked how he expected his team’s many Domincans to manage through the dog days of summer, Tito answered “The tropics are hot!” He also responded questions about Jonathan Paplebon‘s ability to return to the closer job by stating “there was a hurricane in Louisiana” and questions about Jason Varitek’s alma mater Georgia Tech is in a state founded as a debtors prison.
By the way, as long as we’re talking about non-answers to questions. Jose, as a former media professional, would like to offer Tito some advice. You know how Jimy Williams would answer every question “manager’s decision?” Jose would like to see Tito adopt his own avoid all phrase. Jose’s thought is that Eurona should rip off those guys who put the Cartoon Network LED’s all over Boston, and answer every annoying question “I’m sorry, that’s not a hair related question.” This is great because a) Tito is bald b) there’s lots of wacky hair on the Red Sox and c) it could potential force Dan Shaughnessy to address his nappy ‘fro. An equally good evasive answer would be “I'm not here to talk about the past. I'm here to be positive about this subject.”
Do you think Curt struggled becasuse he's been blogging too much?
Sorry, sir, but that's not a hair-related question.
3. Which do you think is getting bigger press coverage in Japan, Daisuke Matsuzaka’s Major League debut this week or the induction of the legendary Mr. Fuji into the WWF Hall of Fame? Also, since Mr. Matsu has any number of crafty and duplicitous pitches, would it be alright to steal Mr. Fuji’s nickname “The Devious One” and apply it to him or would that be racist? Jose thinks it would be fine, because the Pearl Harbor driven stereotype of Japanese as sneaky really went out with the invention of the Toyota. It would really only be racist if Jose started calling him “The Mathematically Gifted One.”
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Wednesday, April 4
Correction
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME
1. Today is only the second game of the season, and already Jose needs to run a correction. Absurd and pathetic isn’t it? A skilled journalist like Jose making a terrible error in on of the biggest KEYS of the year? Well, Jose is nothing if not honest about his flaws (Note: For instance, his left hand is almost useless. He can’t dribble with it, nothing. It’s like he’s Casey Fossum.) And unlike newspaper types who would correct their page 1 error on page D35 special advertising supplement for Trans-Dniester “Land of Intrigue,” Jose will correct a first KEY error in a first KEY. Ready? Okay, here goes.
CORRECTION: In the KEYS TO THE GAME feature on Monday, April 2, 2007 Anno Domini, the author wrote “as bad as yesterday may have been, today will be, it must be, better, because today there will be baseball.”
Many KEYS readers sat down to watch Opening Day assuming that the reporting was accurate. It was not. Monday, April 2 was not better because there was baseball. It was worse. You know; you saw the game. The text should have read “as bad as yesterday may have been, today will be, it must be, better, because today there will be baseball. Unless Curt Euro totally implodes, in which case the day and the day after it will be total crap.” The management of KEYS TO THE GAME apologizes for any distress this error may have caused readers. On the other hand, grow up, it’s not like we poisoned any dogs.
2. Today is the season’s first start for St. Josh Beckett as he tries to put a difficult 2006 season, wherein he sent more men home happy than Hazel Mae, behind him. The problem, most have theorized, is that Beckett was so enamored of his marvelous fastball that he couldn’t stop throwing it… ever. Narcissus on the Charles, if you will. Jose thinks there is a lot of truth to this. Doing the same thing over and over again without variation is a) a sign of mental illness and b) leaves one exposed to all kinds of threats. A monoculture crop gets completely decimated by a new pest. An undiversified stock portfolio is rendered worthless by one company’s collapse. And an unwavering fastball, 97 mph though it may fly, is launched into the night.
If you need more proof that variation is essential to success, consider the case of Wade Boggs. Boggs was brilliant hitter, but he was known for his compulsive routines, most famously eating chicken every single game day, without fail. And you know what that got him? Well, into the Hall of Fame. But do you know where it got him after that? To the WWF Hall of Fame. That’s right Wade Boggs, a legend, a master hitter, was reduced to inducting the late Mr. Perfect Curt Henning into the WWF Hall of Fame last week, and all because he only ate chicken before games. Pathetic. An actual Hall of Famer went to the induction ceremony of the only Hall of Fame that would admit Pete Rose (note: in the Hall’s celebrity wing). (Additional Note: Actually, including Rose in the WWF Hall seems like a good compromise. He gets to be in a Hall of Fame, but he’s surrounded with other athletes who fix matches. If just once in a while, Boggs had mixed in a little lamb, maybe some moussaka, this never would have happened. Never.
Though maybe it’s not so bad. Boggs and Henning weren’t so different. They were both elite athletes who relied on finesse rather than power. Moreover, they were both managed by geniuses, Henning by “The Genius” Lanny Poffo, and Boggs by John McNamara.
Anyway, long story short, Beckett needs to mix in his curve ball more effectively this year or one of these days we’re going to see him in a tux talking about how much the legendary Issac Yankem DMD meant to professional wrestling and the dental community.
3. Jose is not, as you know, a religious man. He likes God. He has positive feelings towards God, but sometimes, when he thinks too much, he gets skeptical. Why do bad things happen to good people? Why would a just God allow the Red Sox to make the Bard/Meredith trade? That sort of thing drives doubt into his heart. But Jose has good news on this front. It turns out that God exists. Not only does he exist, but he is just, which is great, because justice in any of its non-David forms is absolutely terrific. And you know how Jose knows? Empirical evidence. That’s right, put that in your Sunday mornings uninterrupted by boring sermons about loving your neighbor but not making love too your neighbor, atheist scum!
“But what’s the proof?” you ask. “Is it Christ’s glorious resurrection? The 2004 ALCS? Billy Dee Williams making a cameo on Lost?” Nope. It’s so much simpler… and more profound.
On August 1, 2006 Jose wrote “How can there be a just God if skinny Jason Johnson has diabetes, and fat David Wells gets to keep stuffing his face with cakes and donuts and pies?”
It’s a great question isn’t it? But God speaks to us. He is still speaking to us. Not in words or visions, not in a burning bush or from atop a mountain, but in simple, every day acts of divinity, like giving David Wells diabetes.
Thank you God, thank you for making Jose believe again. Now, you can seal the deal by taking away Jason Johnson’s diabetes. And after that, you cold really seal the deal by giving Mike Lowell a second testicle again. You could just take it from David Ortiz. That guy’s got more balls than anyone in the league.
(Theological note: As it has been established that David Ortiz is God, would it make Mike Lowell at least a little divine if he got one of Ortiz’s testicles? Which chapter of Leviticus covers that?)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
1. Today is only the second game of the season, and already Jose needs to run a correction. Absurd and pathetic isn’t it? A skilled journalist like Jose making a terrible error in on of the biggest KEYS of the year? Well, Jose is nothing if not honest about his flaws (Note: For instance, his left hand is almost useless. He can’t dribble with it, nothing. It’s like he’s Casey Fossum.) And unlike newspaper types who would correct their page 1 error on page D35 special advertising supplement for Trans-Dniester “Land of Intrigue,” Jose will correct a first KEY error in a first KEY. Ready? Okay, here goes.
CORRECTION: In the KEYS TO THE GAME feature on Monday, April 2, 2007 Anno Domini, the author wrote “as bad as yesterday may have been, today will be, it must be, better, because today there will be baseball.”
Many KEYS readers sat down to watch Opening Day assuming that the reporting was accurate. It was not. Monday, April 2 was not better because there was baseball. It was worse. You know; you saw the game. The text should have read “as bad as yesterday may have been, today will be, it must be, better, because today there will be baseball. Unless Curt Euro totally implodes, in which case the day and the day after it will be total crap.” The management of KEYS TO THE GAME apologizes for any distress this error may have caused readers. On the other hand, grow up, it’s not like we poisoned any dogs.
2. Today is the season’s first start for St. Josh Beckett as he tries to put a difficult 2006 season, wherein he sent more men home happy than Hazel Mae, behind him. The problem, most have theorized, is that Beckett was so enamored of his marvelous fastball that he couldn’t stop throwing it… ever. Narcissus on the Charles, if you will. Jose thinks there is a lot of truth to this. Doing the same thing over and over again without variation is a) a sign of mental illness and b) leaves one exposed to all kinds of threats. A monoculture crop gets completely decimated by a new pest. An undiversified stock portfolio is rendered worthless by one company’s collapse. And an unwavering fastball, 97 mph though it may fly, is launched into the night.
If you need more proof that variation is essential to success, consider the case of Wade Boggs. Boggs was brilliant hitter, but he was known for his compulsive routines, most famously eating chicken every single game day, without fail. And you know what that got him? Well, into the Hall of Fame. But do you know where it got him after that? To the WWF Hall of Fame. That’s right Wade Boggs, a legend, a master hitter, was reduced to inducting the late Mr. Perfect Curt Henning into the WWF Hall of Fame last week, and all because he only ate chicken before games. Pathetic. An actual Hall of Famer went to the induction ceremony of the only Hall of Fame that would admit Pete Rose (note: in the Hall’s celebrity wing). (Additional Note: Actually, including Rose in the WWF Hall seems like a good compromise. He gets to be in a Hall of Fame, but he’s surrounded with other athletes who fix matches. If just once in a while, Boggs had mixed in a little lamb, maybe some moussaka, this never would have happened. Never.
Though maybe it’s not so bad. Boggs and Henning weren’t so different. They were both elite athletes who relied on finesse rather than power. Moreover, they were both managed by geniuses, Henning by “The Genius” Lanny Poffo, and Boggs by John McNamara.
Anyway, long story short, Beckett needs to mix in his curve ball more effectively this year or one of these days we’re going to see him in a tux talking about how much the legendary Issac Yankem DMD meant to professional wrestling and the dental community.
3. Jose is not, as you know, a religious man. He likes God. He has positive feelings towards God, but sometimes, when he thinks too much, he gets skeptical. Why do bad things happen to good people? Why would a just God allow the Red Sox to make the Bard/Meredith trade? That sort of thing drives doubt into his heart. But Jose has good news on this front. It turns out that God exists. Not only does he exist, but he is just, which is great, because justice in any of its non-David forms is absolutely terrific. And you know how Jose knows? Empirical evidence. That’s right, put that in your Sunday mornings uninterrupted by boring sermons about loving your neighbor but not making love too your neighbor, atheist scum!
“But what’s the proof?” you ask. “Is it Christ’s glorious resurrection? The 2004 ALCS? Billy Dee Williams making a cameo on Lost?” Nope. It’s so much simpler… and more profound.
On August 1, 2006 Jose wrote “How can there be a just God if skinny Jason Johnson has diabetes, and fat David Wells gets to keep stuffing his face with cakes and donuts and pies?”
It’s a great question isn’t it? But God speaks to us. He is still speaking to us. Not in words or visions, not in a burning bush or from atop a mountain, but in simple, every day acts of divinity, like giving David Wells diabetes.
Thank you God, thank you for making Jose believe again. Now, you can seal the deal by taking away Jason Johnson’s diabetes. And after that, you cold really seal the deal by giving Mike Lowell a second testicle again. You could just take it from David Ortiz. That guy’s got more balls than anyone in the league.
(Theological note: As it has been established that David Ortiz is God, would it make Mike Lowell at least a little divine if he got one of Ortiz’s testicles? Which chapter of Leviticus covers that?)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Monday, April 2
Thank God for Opening Day
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE GAME.
Thank God for Opening Day.
Really. Thank God for Opening Day. Most years Jose is merely glad to see Opening Day; he is just happy that the winter is over and his nightly entertainment has emerged bear-like from hibernation. In those years, he is far more like the hunter on the first day of deer season than the smack addict flush with cash from a liquor store robbery and dying for a fix. He wants baseball, he craves it, but he does not need it to avoid dissent into oblivion.
But not this year. No, this year he needs the saccharine poison of baseball season to drip hurriedly into his veins. This year, it is to him what confession is to the sinner, what nitroglycerin is to the cardiac patient, what Guitar Hero is to Joel Zumaya. It is his salvation, his light.
These have been dark days in Melendezville, dark days indeed. Jose will not delve into the details of his personal life, save to say that the inadvertent destruction of family heirlooms is pretty much the least troubling thing going on in his life. Also, he got a pretty good haircut, for a change. How bad is it? Remember when the Yankees swept the Sox five straight? Well, it’s like that, except, Jose can’t turn just turn off the TV, scream “F*ck Rudy Seanez” and move on with his life. On the plus side, at least Jose’s travails do not make New Yorkers happy. Look, Jose is not saying things are “Grady Little is your manager and your starter is looking a little tired” bad, maybe more like “Jose Offerman is your second baseman and he has to field a routine grounder” bad, deeply troubling and upsetting, but probably not going to leave one catatonic.
And so we come to today, to Opening Day. And thank God. Thank God because Opening Day is hope and rebirth and life. Jose does not want to get all Curt Euro on you, he’s not even really a Christian per se, but have you ever thought about how much Opening Day, especially after a season like last year, is like Jesus? Think about it. The 2006 Red Sox season died horribly, painfully, torturously, and yet today the Red Sox will be resurrected.
“They are risen,” Red Sox fans will cry out. And regardless of the outcome, independent of what happens when Julio Lugo digs in this evening, the lone fact that the Red Sox are playing again, a short six months after their agonizing death will be nothing short of proof of God’s love. God gives us baseball, He gives us Opening Day because he loves us. It is exactly that simple. It is the same story as that of Jesus, the miracles, the lessons, the prophecy and the excruciating execution. (Note: Yes, that is a pun about bad defense and difficulties pulling off a hit and run.) The only difference is that Jesus only came back to life once, whereas the Red Sox are resurrected pretty much annually. Point Red Sox.
Okay, so maybe it’s silly and completely sacrilegious to compare Opening Day to Christ’s resurrection, every bit as silly as it is to offer the caramel coated platitudes about spring and rebirth and “Everyone’s even in the standings today.” But there is something profoundly true about it too. Because as bad as yesterday may have been, today will be, it must be, better, because today there will be baseball. Also, Jose’s going to a barbeque, which is always nice.
2. And now, a sneak peak at the back page of tomorrow’s New York post.
ORTIZ’S TERRIFYING VOW
Kansas City, Mo—Red Sox slugger David Ortiz shocked reporters yesterday by confession to a string of killings and vowing more to come. In response to a question about what he planned to do in the coming year, the Dominican slugger respond “What I always do. Kill…”
As stunning as the admission by the seemingly genial designated hitter was, the response has been even more remarkable. Blinded by parochialism, authorities in Boston have, thus far, declined to investigate or even bring Ortiz in for questioning. The Red Sox organization has been similarly negligent, building a wall of silence around Ortiz. Even as the comments were issued, the Red Sox public relations staff seemed prepared with carefully crafted denials, suggesting that they may have known about the crimes well in advance of Ortiz’s stunning statement.
“I’m pretty sure he was talking about hitting baseballs,” stonewalled Sox general manager and unindicted coconspirator Theo Epstein. “You left out the part where he said ‘the ball.’ It was ‘kill the ball.’”
“The only thing he killed was Yankees pitching for the last four years,” added former Red Sox first baseman Kevin Millar, who was not even on site or asked for comment.
Yankees President George Steinbrenner declined to join in the campaign of denial, issuing an immediate statement. “The Yankees organization, as the classiest in baseball, calls on the Red Sox to immediately suspend David Ortiz and urge him to turn himself into authorities. Felons have no place in our national pastime.”
3. As part of the full court press accompanying Opening Day, Boston Herald Business reporter Scott Van Voorhis did one of those stories that everyone loves where he asked local business leaders to offer managerial advice to sox skipper Terry Eurona.
Jose assumed that this was going to be another one of those stupid media features where they assume that just because someone has millions of dollars, has fired tens of thousands of people and has a Harvard educated hooker err... second wife, on his arm, he knows more about baseball than you or Jose. But it wasn’t about Jack Welch at all.
Instead Van Voorhis asked a variety of executives and managers, some of whom even have sporting experience, to offer advice, and you know what they said? Crack the whip, treated everyone the same, better to have nine Mosey Nixon’s than nine Manny Ramirez’s? No, they advocated for kid gloves, a consultative approach and letting the stars do what they do best.
One commentator, developer John Drew, counseled Tito to “handle them all gingerly.” Which sort of sounded, like good advice, but then Jose noticed something. John Drew? That’s remarkably close to the name of Sox outfielder David Jonathan Drew, aka DJ Dru, isn’t it? Jose senses infiltration. So basically what you have in this article, is DJ Dru, in the clever alias of real estate developer John Drew, who Jose assumes, looks just like DJ but wears glasses, advising Tito to give stars all sorts of leeway. And who is in that group of stars? None other than DJ Dru himself.
What’s next? Will Sloan School of Management Professor Manuel R. Amirez appear in the paper advising Eurona to “let players knock off a few days before the All-Star Break, It’s just good business?” Perhaps Green Monster Games President and Founder Curt Euro will counsel Tito to “Let your number one starter stay in until he thinks it’s time to come out?” Maybe CEO of ACME Inc. Wile. E. Mopena, will suggest a new model of exploding bat. (Note: Yes, Jose knows everyone has done Wile E. Coyote jokes for Wily Mo.)
Thank God for Opening Day.
Really. Thank God for Opening Day. Most years Jose is merely glad to see Opening Day; he is just happy that the winter is over and his nightly entertainment has emerged bear-like from hibernation. In those years, he is far more like the hunter on the first day of deer season than the smack addict flush with cash from a liquor store robbery and dying for a fix. He wants baseball, he craves it, but he does not need it to avoid dissent into oblivion.
But not this year. No, this year he needs the saccharine poison of baseball season to drip hurriedly into his veins. This year, it is to him what confession is to the sinner, what nitroglycerin is to the cardiac patient, what Guitar Hero is to Joel Zumaya. It is his salvation, his light.
These have been dark days in Melendezville, dark days indeed. Jose will not delve into the details of his personal life, save to say that the inadvertent destruction of family heirlooms is pretty much the least troubling thing going on in his life. Also, he got a pretty good haircut, for a change. How bad is it? Remember when the Yankees swept the Sox five straight? Well, it’s like that, except, Jose can’t turn just turn off the TV, scream “F*ck Rudy Seanez” and move on with his life. On the plus side, at least Jose’s travails do not make New Yorkers happy. Look, Jose is not saying things are “Grady Little is your manager and your starter is looking a little tired” bad, maybe more like “Jose Offerman is your second baseman and he has to field a routine grounder” bad, deeply troubling and upsetting, but probably not going to leave one catatonic.
And so we come to today, to Opening Day. And thank God. Thank God because Opening Day is hope and rebirth and life. Jose does not want to get all Curt Euro on you, he’s not even really a Christian per se, but have you ever thought about how much Opening Day, especially after a season like last year, is like Jesus? Think about it. The 2006 Red Sox season died horribly, painfully, torturously, and yet today the Red Sox will be resurrected.
“They are risen,” Red Sox fans will cry out. And regardless of the outcome, independent of what happens when Julio Lugo digs in this evening, the lone fact that the Red Sox are playing again, a short six months after their agonizing death will be nothing short of proof of God’s love. God gives us baseball, He gives us Opening Day because he loves us. It is exactly that simple. It is the same story as that of Jesus, the miracles, the lessons, the prophecy and the excruciating execution. (Note: Yes, that is a pun about bad defense and difficulties pulling off a hit and run.) The only difference is that Jesus only came back to life once, whereas the Red Sox are resurrected pretty much annually. Point Red Sox.
Okay, so maybe it’s silly and completely sacrilegious to compare Opening Day to Christ’s resurrection, every bit as silly as it is to offer the caramel coated platitudes about spring and rebirth and “Everyone’s even in the standings today.” But there is something profoundly true about it too. Because as bad as yesterday may have been, today will be, it must be, better, because today there will be baseball. Also, Jose’s going to a barbeque, which is always nice.
2. And now, a sneak peak at the back page of tomorrow’s New York post.
ORTIZ’S TERRIFYING VOW
Kansas City, Mo—Red Sox slugger David Ortiz shocked reporters yesterday by confession to a string of killings and vowing more to come. In response to a question about what he planned to do in the coming year, the Dominican slugger respond “What I always do. Kill…”
As stunning as the admission by the seemingly genial designated hitter was, the response has been even more remarkable. Blinded by parochialism, authorities in Boston have, thus far, declined to investigate or even bring Ortiz in for questioning. The Red Sox organization has been similarly negligent, building a wall of silence around Ortiz. Even as the comments were issued, the Red Sox public relations staff seemed prepared with carefully crafted denials, suggesting that they may have known about the crimes well in advance of Ortiz’s stunning statement.
“I’m pretty sure he was talking about hitting baseballs,” stonewalled Sox general manager and unindicted coconspirator Theo Epstein. “You left out the part where he said ‘the ball.’ It was ‘kill the ball.’”
“The only thing he killed was Yankees pitching for the last four years,” added former Red Sox first baseman Kevin Millar, who was not even on site or asked for comment.
Yankees President George Steinbrenner declined to join in the campaign of denial, issuing an immediate statement. “The Yankees organization, as the classiest in baseball, calls on the Red Sox to immediately suspend David Ortiz and urge him to turn himself into authorities. Felons have no place in our national pastime.”
3. As part of the full court press accompanying Opening Day, Boston Herald Business reporter Scott Van Voorhis did one of those stories that everyone loves where he asked local business leaders to offer managerial advice to sox skipper Terry Eurona.
Jose assumed that this was going to be another one of those stupid media features where they assume that just because someone has millions of dollars, has fired tens of thousands of people and has a Harvard educated hooker err... second wife, on his arm, he knows more about baseball than you or Jose. But it wasn’t about Jack Welch at all.
Instead Van Voorhis asked a variety of executives and managers, some of whom even have sporting experience, to offer advice, and you know what they said? Crack the whip, treated everyone the same, better to have nine Mosey Nixon’s than nine Manny Ramirez’s? No, they advocated for kid gloves, a consultative approach and letting the stars do what they do best.
One commentator, developer John Drew, counseled Tito to “handle them all gingerly.” Which sort of sounded, like good advice, but then Jose noticed something. John Drew? That’s remarkably close to the name of Sox outfielder David Jonathan Drew, aka DJ Dru, isn’t it? Jose senses infiltration. So basically what you have in this article, is DJ Dru, in the clever alias of real estate developer John Drew, who Jose assumes, looks just like DJ but wears glasses, advising Tito to give stars all sorts of leeway. And who is in that group of stars? None other than DJ Dru himself.
What’s next? Will Sloan School of Management Professor Manuel R. Amirez appear in the paper advising Eurona to “let players knock off a few days before the All-Star Break, It’s just good business?” Perhaps Green Monster Games President and Founder Curt Euro will counsel Tito to “Let your number one starter stay in until he thinks it’s time to come out?” Maybe CEO of ACME Inc. Wile. E. Mopena, will suggest a new model of exploding bat. (Note: Yes, Jose knows everyone has done Wile E. Coyote jokes for Wily Mo.)
Professor Manuel R. Amirez responds to
charges that his Keynesian beliefs are outdated.
Let’s get serious here. If you want to take a business perspective, don’t ask these squishy soft “modern” business types with their six sigma and their lean manufacturing and their bathroom breaks. No, let’s ask someone who knows how to get the most out of their workers like Henry Clay Frick or Kathie Lee Gifford. What players today need is lower pay, fewer benefits and more hours at the office. And if that doesn’t work, there’s always a skilled 8 year-old who will do the job for half as much.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Let’s get serious here. If you want to take a business perspective, don’t ask these squishy soft “modern” business types with their six sigma and their lean manufacturing and their bathroom breaks. No, let’s ask someone who knows how to get the most out of their workers like Henry Clay Frick or Kathie Lee Gifford. What players today need is lower pay, fewer benefits and more hours at the office. And if that doesn’t work, there’s always a skilled 8 year-old who will do the job for half as much.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO THE GAME.
Thursday, March 22
Past Performance is Not Necessarily Indicative of Future Results
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
1. It’s Papelbon.
That’s the word out of Florida this afternoon according to ESPN. Faced with the prospect of Piniero, Tavarez, Donnelly or any of the other cast of thousands closing, the Red Sox have decided to go with what worked in the past, even if it costs them over the long term.
Jose isn’t too fond of this move. He thinks Little Papi’s value as a starter will ultimately exceed his value out of the pen, but he can’t say that he’s surprised. Going with what used to work, even at the expense of the future is all the rage these days. The WWF’s having trouble getting new talent over with fans? Have the Undertaker wrestle for the title at WrestleMania, after all, it used to be a good idea. The Democrats can’t win the White House? Nominate a Clinton, it worked the last time they tried it. The U.S. is stuck in a military quagmire with no end in sight? Why not try escalation? It worked when we tried it in Vietnam. Err…
No, the number one admonishment to all those who play the stock market—past performance is not necessarily indicative of future results—is being ignored. It’s not that Jose thinks Papelbon will be bad in the bullpen. Quite to the contrary, Jose expects that he’ll be excellent. He’s got two great pitches and a middling third, that’s closer stuff. It’s just that Jose believes, in his heart of hearts, that Papelbon would be a terrific starter by the middle of this year and forever thereafter, that the prospect of facing Euro, Beckett, Mr. Matsu and Papelbon, would wear down any team, and that a closer, by trade or from inside, would have emerged with time.
But are we sure returning Papelbon to the closer spot will work? Are we really? What if a pitcher is like a woman (note: or a man Jose supposes)? What if? What if? What if? A woman can be a closer. Nothing wrong with that, no moral judgments here. She can be the person for those tense situations, when one just needs a high intensity expenditure of energy to close out an evening. And she may be really good at it. She may excel. Hell, she may be so good, have so much promise, that you try to convert her to a starter But what happens then? What if, rather than just asking her to close out your nights, you ask her to start out your mornings and make it deep into the day? Maybe it will work out maybe it won’t. Maybe she get’s bombed early in the day? You don’t know. But if it doesn’t work do you think you can ask her to go back to closing and everything will be the same as it was? Can you rely on her to still bring the heat at the end of the night, get the job done expeditiously and then shake hands and walk off the mound? Maybe it can be done, but Jose hasn’t seen it happen too often. Of course, past performance is not necessarily indicative of future results.
A woman scorned?
2. Red Sox riddles, courtesy of KEYS TO THE GAME
Q: What does Jason Varitek have in common with Christopher Cross?
A: Neither of them have had a hit lately.
Q: How many Red Sox relievers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: It doesn’t matter they can’t even close a circuit.
Q: How many fifth starters does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Let’s see Snyder, Lester, Hansack, Gabbard, Tavarez… five. Five! They each take a turn in the rotation.
Q: Why did Manny Ramirez throw a clock out the window.
A: Just Manny being Manny.
Q: Why did Grady Little throw a clock out the window?
A: Because he was incredibly bleeping stupid.
Q: What has wings but can’t fly.
A: Cory Lidle’s plane. (Note: Boooooooooooooooooooooooooo.)
Q: If a tree fell in the forest would Curt Euro make a sound?
A: Yes.
Q: He who has it doesn't tell it. He who takes it doesn't know it. He who knows it doesn't want it. What is it?
A: The next Ken Ryan.
3. OK. Fine let’s talk about the grill. Everyone else is. So what if Manny Ramirez was selling a grill on E-Bay. Big deal. Everyone acts like it’s such a story that the legendary enigma Manny Ramirez would try to sell a cooking appliance. “Does he really need the money?” some asked. “Isn’t it kind of pathetic?” others queried. Does he claim that the grill needs a new home every year and then he leaves it exactly where it is?” inquired still more pundits.
But why are we acting like it’s so weird. Would it be weird if he bought stock in Texaco, invested in a mutual fund, purchased real estate or secured no-bid military contracts? No, it would be a normal, sane investment for a wealthy man. And so is selling grills.
You remember; we all laughed when George Foreman started selling grills, and you know what happened with that. That’s right, he went insane and named all of his kids George. But he also made a ton of money. So why shouldn’t Manny sell grills. He’s already crazy, so what does he have to lose?
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
1. It’s Papelbon.
That’s the word out of Florida this afternoon according to ESPN. Faced with the prospect of Piniero, Tavarez, Donnelly or any of the other cast of thousands closing, the Red Sox have decided to go with what worked in the past, even if it costs them over the long term.
Jose isn’t too fond of this move. He thinks Little Papi’s value as a starter will ultimately exceed his value out of the pen, but he can’t say that he’s surprised. Going with what used to work, even at the expense of the future is all the rage these days. The WWF’s having trouble getting new talent over with fans? Have the Undertaker wrestle for the title at WrestleMania, after all, it used to be a good idea. The Democrats can’t win the White House? Nominate a Clinton, it worked the last time they tried it. The U.S. is stuck in a military quagmire with no end in sight? Why not try escalation? It worked when we tried it in Vietnam. Err…
No, the number one admonishment to all those who play the stock market—past performance is not necessarily indicative of future results—is being ignored. It’s not that Jose thinks Papelbon will be bad in the bullpen. Quite to the contrary, Jose expects that he’ll be excellent. He’s got two great pitches and a middling third, that’s closer stuff. It’s just that Jose believes, in his heart of hearts, that Papelbon would be a terrific starter by the middle of this year and forever thereafter, that the prospect of facing Euro, Beckett, Mr. Matsu and Papelbon, would wear down any team, and that a closer, by trade or from inside, would have emerged with time.
But are we sure returning Papelbon to the closer spot will work? Are we really? What if a pitcher is like a woman (note: or a man Jose supposes)? What if? What if? What if? A woman can be a closer. Nothing wrong with that, no moral judgments here. She can be the person for those tense situations, when one just needs a high intensity expenditure of energy to close out an evening. And she may be really good at it. She may excel. Hell, she may be so good, have so much promise, that you try to convert her to a starter But what happens then? What if, rather than just asking her to close out your nights, you ask her to start out your mornings and make it deep into the day? Maybe it will work out maybe it won’t. Maybe she get’s bombed early in the day? You don’t know. But if it doesn’t work do you think you can ask her to go back to closing and everything will be the same as it was? Can you rely on her to still bring the heat at the end of the night, get the job done expeditiously and then shake hands and walk off the mound? Maybe it can be done, but Jose hasn’t seen it happen too often. Of course, past performance is not necessarily indicative of future results.
A woman scorned?
2. Red Sox riddles, courtesy of KEYS TO THE GAME
Q: What does Jason Varitek have in common with Christopher Cross?
A: Neither of them have had a hit lately.
Q: How many Red Sox relievers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: It doesn’t matter they can’t even close a circuit.
Q: How many fifth starters does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Let’s see Snyder, Lester, Hansack, Gabbard, Tavarez… five. Five! They each take a turn in the rotation.
Q: Why did Manny Ramirez throw a clock out the window.
A: Just Manny being Manny.
Q: Why did Grady Little throw a clock out the window?
A: Because he was incredibly bleeping stupid.
Q: What has wings but can’t fly.
A: Cory Lidle’s plane. (Note: Boooooooooooooooooooooooooo.)
Q: If a tree fell in the forest would Curt Euro make a sound?
A: Yes.
Q: He who has it doesn't tell it. He who takes it doesn't know it. He who knows it doesn't want it. What is it?
A: The next Ken Ryan.
3. OK. Fine let’s talk about the grill. Everyone else is. So what if Manny Ramirez was selling a grill on E-Bay. Big deal. Everyone acts like it’s such a story that the legendary enigma Manny Ramirez would try to sell a cooking appliance. “Does he really need the money?” some asked. “Isn’t it kind of pathetic?” others queried. Does he claim that the grill needs a new home every year and then he leaves it exactly where it is?” inquired still more pundits.
But why are we acting like it’s so weird. Would it be weird if he bought stock in Texaco, invested in a mutual fund, purchased real estate or secured no-bid military contracts? No, it would be a normal, sane investment for a wealthy man. And so is selling grills.
You remember; we all laughed when George Foreman started selling grills, and you know what happened with that. That’s right, he went insane and named all of his kids George. But he also made a ton of money. So why shouldn’t Manny sell grills. He’s already crazy, so what does he have to lose?
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
Tuesday, March 20
And Now a Brief Intermission
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE TO SPRING TRAINING.
1. They don’t come around too often any more, but Jose always loved going to single admission doubleheaders. As nice as drinking beers at the ballpark is while taking in a game, doing it while taking in two games is literally twice as nice. Actually, it’s 2.3 times as nice, economies of scale, you know.
As anyone with even a rudimentary knowledge of economics knows, it is not a given that two, is twice as good as one. One could very reasonably expect the marginal utility of each inning to diminish as one creeps into the second game. But it doesn’t, and you know why? No intermissions. This is the genius of baseball. Other sports have lengthy breaks, but not baseball. Sure there’s the seventh inning stretch, but that’s barely more than a regular inning change, unless of course, it is a playoff game at Yankee Stadium, in which case, it is slightly longer than a Peking Opera, and only 20 percent as interesting.
The law of diminishing marginal returns became painfully clear to Jose as he went to an “Iced Hockey” double header at the Boston Garden on Friday. (Note: It’s like Iced Tea, right?) While Hockey is a great live sport and Jose was excited by the prospect of watching his state university take on UNH, and his alma mater BU take on BC, he lived in dread. Sure, six periods of hockey (note: Which period is the Jurassic? The second right?) is a lot, but what really scared Jose was the five intermissions. Five! That’s an hour and forty minutes of intermission, and more if one remembers that the intermission between games is 45 minutes.
It got worse. The first game went to double overtime. Sure it was “exciting” and “dramatic” but the intermissions, dear God the intermissions. To make matters worse, the game ended two minutes into the second overtime, so a twenty minute intermission was followed by 2 minutes of action and then another 45 minutes of intermission. That’s almost as much down time as in a Nomar Garciaparra at bat!
So based on this, experience Jose has created a sport hierarchy based on the number and duration of intermissions. Hockey is at the bottom because it has two intermissions. Then comes basketball because it has one. Above that is football, because it also has one intermission, but it has way better highlights than basketball. Next is soccer, which also has one intermission but doesn’t have commercials during the game. And then on top is baseball with its no intermissions, save for occasional moments to scratch, spit and go into the Green Monster to urinate. Actually, check that. Wrestling is above baseball, because it has no breaks at all, unless you count “rest holds” like the sleeper hold and reverse chinlocks. NASCAR would be at the top, because it has no intermissions at all, but then Jose remembered it’s just people driving in circles, so it’s actually nothing but intermission.
2. As part of an effort to maintain better control of their intellectual property, the Red Sox have announced new policies governing the use of Red Sox highlights from NESN, including demands that NESN receive credit on all Red Sox clips.
While this move generated significant publicity, it is only the latest in a series of moves by the Red Sox to protect their intellectual property. Among the less well know moves:
1. They don’t come around too often any more, but Jose always loved going to single admission doubleheaders. As nice as drinking beers at the ballpark is while taking in a game, doing it while taking in two games is literally twice as nice. Actually, it’s 2.3 times as nice, economies of scale, you know.
As anyone with even a rudimentary knowledge of economics knows, it is not a given that two, is twice as good as one. One could very reasonably expect the marginal utility of each inning to diminish as one creeps into the second game. But it doesn’t, and you know why? No intermissions. This is the genius of baseball. Other sports have lengthy breaks, but not baseball. Sure there’s the seventh inning stretch, but that’s barely more than a regular inning change, unless of course, it is a playoff game at Yankee Stadium, in which case, it is slightly longer than a Peking Opera, and only 20 percent as interesting.
The law of diminishing marginal returns became painfully clear to Jose as he went to an “Iced Hockey” double header at the Boston Garden on Friday. (Note: It’s like Iced Tea, right?) While Hockey is a great live sport and Jose was excited by the prospect of watching his state university take on UNH, and his alma mater BU take on BC, he lived in dread. Sure, six periods of hockey (note: Which period is the Jurassic? The second right?) is a lot, but what really scared Jose was the five intermissions. Five! That’s an hour and forty minutes of intermission, and more if one remembers that the intermission between games is 45 minutes.
It got worse. The first game went to double overtime. Sure it was “exciting” and “dramatic” but the intermissions, dear God the intermissions. To make matters worse, the game ended two minutes into the second overtime, so a twenty minute intermission was followed by 2 minutes of action and then another 45 minutes of intermission. That’s almost as much down time as in a Nomar Garciaparra at bat!
So based on this, experience Jose has created a sport hierarchy based on the number and duration of intermissions. Hockey is at the bottom because it has two intermissions. Then comes basketball because it has one. Above that is football, because it also has one intermission, but it has way better highlights than basketball. Next is soccer, which also has one intermission but doesn’t have commercials during the game. And then on top is baseball with its no intermissions, save for occasional moments to scratch, spit and go into the Green Monster to urinate. Actually, check that. Wrestling is above baseball, because it has no breaks at all, unless you count “rest holds” like the sleeper hold and reverse chinlocks. NASCAR would be at the top, because it has no intermissions at all, but then Jose remembered it’s just people driving in circles, so it’s actually nothing but intermission.
2. As part of an effort to maintain better control of their intellectual property, the Red Sox have announced new policies governing the use of Red Sox highlights from NESN, including demands that NESN receive credit on all Red Sox clips.
While this move generated significant publicity, it is only the latest in a series of moves by the Red Sox to protect their intellectual property. Among the less well know moves:
- Sued He-Man/Masters of the Universe for misappropriating John W. Henry’s likeness for Skeletor.
- Sued Kellogs for misuse of “Coco Crisp” brand name.
- Sent cease and desist order to makers of Spider Man movie, claiming “Green Goblin” is way too close to “Green Monster,” “Dr. Octopus” is what everyone called Wade Boggs when he was groping Margo Adams and “Mary Jane” is dangerously close to the type of cigarettes Craig Hansen likes to smoke. (Note: Jose has no evidence that Hansen is a doper aside from his droopy eyes.)
- Filed restraining order against Armando Benitez, claiming “save blowing gopher ball” is the intellectual property of Julian Tavarez.
- Filed suit against J.J. Abrams and ABC, stating that the Red Sox had already copyrighted “Lost” as the name of a series about Joe Kerrigan’s managerial reign.
- Filed gag order against Kevin Millar. Someone had to do it.
- Issued statement saying anyone calling Grady Little a “Forrest Gump looking douchebag” is using Red Sox trademarked material and must pay $50 in royalties.
- Bitched at Doug Mientkiewiecz about World Series ball. (Note: Wait that one’s real. What a dick move.)
3. The Texas Rangers have ended their relationship with Ameriquest Mortgage Company, changing the name of their ballpark from Ameriquest Field to Rangers Ballpark in Arlington three years into a 30 year deal.
The outcome of Massachusetts Governor Deval Patrick’s call to the Rangers pleading with them to keep the Ameriquest name remains unknown.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
Thursday, March 15
Thinking Outside the Pen
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
1. The principle spring training narrative continues to be the question of who will close. Terry Eurona is said to favor Julienned Tavarez (note: shoot Jose), others view Mike Timlin as the lead candidate and still others think Joel Piniero should get a shot. None of them are terribly appealing are they? But maybe the Red Sox haven’t considered all of the options. Perhaps, just perhaps in this brave and terrible new baseball world, the closer is no longer necessary. Perhaps, it is nothing more than a vestigial structure, a once useful thing that has long since lost its purpose, like the appendix or Bernie Williams.
Jose proposes that the Red Sox do not need a closer at all. Rather, they should develop an elaborate strategy that focuses on avoiding save situations all together. The strategy involves three basic components:
1. The principle spring training narrative continues to be the question of who will close. Terry Eurona is said to favor Julienned Tavarez (note: shoot Jose), others view Mike Timlin as the lead candidate and still others think Joel Piniero should get a shot. None of them are terribly appealing are they? But maybe the Red Sox haven’t considered all of the options. Perhaps, just perhaps in this brave and terrible new baseball world, the closer is no longer necessary. Perhaps, it is nothing more than a vestigial structure, a once useful thing that has long since lost its purpose, like the appendix or Bernie Williams.
Jose proposes that the Red Sox do not need a closer at all. Rather, they should develop an elaborate strategy that focuses on avoiding save situations all together. The strategy involves three basic components:
- Big leads— All the Red Sox need to do is get way ahead, and there will be no save situation to worry about.
- Come from behind wins—Why score three runs in the third to build a slim, blowable lead when you could just as easily score them in the bottom of the ninth while down by two runs?
- Weather control—If the Red Sox had a weather control machine, they could bring in the rain whenever they have a lead after the fifth and render the closer question moot. This is probably a less appealing alternative in domes.
Now, Jose knows what you’re thinking, that big leads and come from behind wins may be good plans, but controlling the weather is potentially catastrophic for the environment not to mention incredibly difficult to do. Fair enough, but let Jose ask you this, which do you think is harder, exerting precise and total control over the elements or finding a closer out of Donnelly, Tavarez, Piniero and Timlin? Jose thought so. Look at it this way, there have been movies wherein people can control the weather, X-Men for instance. Sure it’s fantastic, but no one leaves the theater saying “That’s crap, there’s no way Storm could make rain and lightning.” By contrast, if you went into a theater, dropped down your ten bucks and saw a movie wherein Julienned Tavarez became an effective closer you would condemn it as too absurd even for fiction. Point weather control.
2. One of the biggest disappointments of the 2006 season was Coco Crisp’s failure to thrive with the Red Sox. While it was easy to attribute his struggles to a broken finger, Jose thinks his difficulties can be just as easily linked to his failure to develop a clear identity within the context of the team.
You know how most relievers perform better when they have a clear role on the team? Like how Julienned Tavarez would stop sucking if they told him “you will only pitch the sixth inning.” Jose believes that the same holds true for Crisp. So Jose has tried to come up with the best role for Crisp, one that will allow him to reach his full potential, and after more than a few sleepless nights, he thinks he’s got it—birdman.
It’s perfect. Look at how well it worked for Crisp’s namesake, wrestling legend Koko B. Ware. After getting off to a promising start as Pro Wrestling Illustrated’ s 1979 rookie of the year, Ware struggled to establish himself, ending up on a tenure track to obscurity. But then, he found his role, when he signed with the WWF in 1986 as “Birdman” Koko B. Ware, and brought his pet bird Frankie to the ring with him. All of a sudden, B. Ware emerged as a beloved star, if not an actual champion.
So all Crisp needs to do is get himself a parrot and a sequined headband and voila, he’ll reach his formidable potential. Also, picking up “Piledriver” Koko B. Wares singles from the “The Wrestling Album 2: Piledriver” couldn’t hurt.
The only down side is that it could set up a situation where the Yankees steal Crisp’s bird prior to a big game, rendering Crisp distracted and useless.
Now playing centerfield for the Red Sox, accompanied by his bird Frankie...
3. In other news, David Ortiz is trying to kill Terry Eurona.
According to the Boston Herald, Ortiz has been doing his rank best to keep the manager addicted to smokeless tobacco, going so far as to waft the sickly sweet aroma directly into Tito’s nostrils.
Now, Jose can understand where Ortiz is coming from. After all, who hasn’t wanted to kill Tito from time to time? But remember, as frustrating as his bullpen decisions may sometimes be, he is still the best Red Sox manager since Dick Williams. Besides, what’s the point of trying to keep him on smokeless tobacco? To kill him before he can burn out the 2017 bullpen?
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
Monday, March 12
Shoulder, Back, Buttocks and Ribs: The Carl Pavano Story
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
1. The Yankees take on the Red Sox tonight in what is sure to be the tensest a spring training game can get. Way more tense than the BC game. According to Jose’s sources, authorities in Fort Myers are preparing for the game by summoning extra ambulances and first aid personnel. It’s not that they’re afraid of riots or anything, it’s just that Carl Pavano is pitching, so you know he’s going to take up at least one ambulance, so you need an extra in case someone in the stands gets schistosomiasis or something.
And it could get much worse. Pavano has always been skilled at injuring himself, but like any “true Yankee” he has stepped up his game since coming to New York. Not only has he sustained injuries to his own “shoulder, back, buttocks and ribs" but he is now injuring people around him as well. Pavano missed his last spring training start dealing with his girlfriend’s “severe medical condition.” (Note: Does herpes count as a severe medical condition?) Moreover, Pavano is being sued by a man for car accident last year wherein Pavano hit the man with his Porsche. Pavano broke two ribs in the crash. Pavano has also reportedly been seen in Hiroshima in 1945, in Phuket on Christmas 2004. Also, for those of you unsatisfied with the inconclusive ending to the film Zodiac, Jose is pretty sure Carl Pavano had something to do with it.
How bad is Pavano hurting himself and others? Let’s put it this way, New York Governor Elliot Spitzer has proposed closing the entire New York health care funding gap by having Pavano killed.
2. New Massachusetts Governor Deval Patrick has gotten off to a rough start as scandals involving an expensive inaugural, a helicopter, a Cadillac, a phone call to Citigroup on behalf of Ameriquest, new office furnishings, an assistant for his wife and his wife’s depression have taken focus from his governing agenda.
Now, Jose supports Patrick, he was a delegate for him at the state Democratic Convention and voted for him right on through, but he is amazed that someone who ran such a brilliant campaign can get off to such a politically tone deaf start. Not all of you are Massachusetts residents and not all of you who are politicos, so Jose thought he would explain Governor Patrick’s struggles in terms you can understand. What would a new Red Sox manager have to do to get off to this bad of a start? (Note: Jose could just say, view the Joe Kerrigan era, but that wouldn’t be any fun would it?)
- After announcing that this “will not be a 25 guys 25 cabs team” he arrives late to spring training after sailing down from Boston on private yacht named “Cab 1.”
- Redecorates managerial office with money that could have been spent on a closer.
- Announces that his wife will have her own batting practice pitcher because she plans to take a “more hands on role” than previous manager’s wives.
- Calls George Steinbrenner to talk him out of plan to acquire Barry Bonds instead of Vlad Guerrero.
- States that in light of increasingly difficult budgetary climate, the “overly optimistic goal of winning the division will be replaced with the more sensible goal of finishing a solid third.”
- Stands silent as the federal government deports David Ortiz.
- Speaks up when the federal government tries to deport Julian Tavarez.
That’s the kind of start Governor Patrick is off to. Still, it could be worse. He has yet to fire his Chief-of-Staff and replace her with Joe Kerrigan. (Note: It’s National Beat on Joe Kerrigan day, join in… jokes about stolen bases are encouraged.)
3. What do you think Patriots coach Bill Belichick and Sox skipper Terry Eurona were discussing yesterday in the dugout? The way Jose sees it there are only two possibilities: the rigors of coaching in a high intensity sports town like Boston or sweatshirts. Jose is going with sweatshirts. Belichick is, of course, famous for the ratty cut off hooded sweatshirts he wears during games. Tito, similarly, if less famously, wears a red fleece sweatshirt in the dugout.
Also, it is rumored that the two are working on a book together about management. The reported title is “Everything I Know about Management I Learned from my Sweatshirt”
A few teaser quotes:
- A good manager is like a sweatshirt, warm but not smothering.
- Much like a sweatshirt, it doesn’t matter how a manager looks as long as he gets the job done.
- An organization is like a sweatshirt, if there’s a part you don’t need, you can just cut it off.
Jose thinks there is something to this. After all how many championships had the Sox and Pats won in the 86 years before the sweatshirts? Couldn’t someone buy a nice green hoodie for Doc Rivers?
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
Friday, March 9
Working on a Change Up
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
1. This has been a terrible spring training. No joke. Normally this is the point in the spring where Jose would be cracking jokes, lame tired jokes, but jokes nevertheless about doing typing drills, and writing simulated blogs. But not this year… unless you want to count what he just wrote. But you shouldn’t.
No, this year, Jose has done very, very little in the way of spring training work. He has yet to write on consecutive days, everything feels kind of flat and lifeless, and, let’s be honest, he came into camp this year in poor writing shape.
Jose is getting up there in years, everyone’s seen his basic material a few times round now, and he isn’t surprising too many people. Yeah, he’d like to do this for a few more years, what with the lure of $15.75 in book royalties per anum, but unless he comes up with something new, it’s not going to happen.
Basically, Jose is Curt Euro, but with no Major League Baseball chops, without millions of dollars, absent a place in Red Sox lore, and soon, with a less popular blog. On the upside, Jose is not fat. So he’s got that going for him.
So perhaps Jose should take a cue from Curt and develop something new this spring, the literary equivalent of the changeup Euro through 15 times in yesterday’s preseason outing. But what would be a change up for a blog that compares baseball to wrestling, comics, politics, philosophy, theology, television and feminine hygiene? Jose’s taste is pretty eclectic, so it’s going to take some real work to come up with something that is a true change from his current stuff. The way Jose sees it he has two choices. Either he can start comparing baseball to finger sandwiches (note: Jose likes his managers like he likes his cucumber sandwiches at high tea, not too crusty) or he can start loading up on NASCAR metaphors (note: watching Kyle Snyder pitch is like watching some bad driver, Jose’s not looking one up, at Daytona. It’s boring, he crashes and burns a lot and his fuel injectors are clogged or something).
See? There’s a lot of work to be done between now and opening day if Jose’s going to produce this year.
2. Bad News Brown died this week.
Bad news for him. Still, the man live a full life. He was an Olympic bronze medalist in judo in 1976, he was a headline wrestler in the WWF and Stampede wrestling in Calgary, he was probably the manager in the Bad News Bears, Jose doesn’t remember, and he devised the greatest wrestling put down since Classy Freddie Blassie, coined “pencil necked geek,” with his simple, elegant construction “beer-bellied sharecropper.” He died on March 6, 2007 at the age of 63, not bad for a wrestler, and Jose misses him.
But this is not a time to lament the death of the great man, but to celebrate his life. And Jose can think of no better celebration, no more fitting tribute, than the dissemination of the values he represented into professional baseball. Anyone can make jokes about how funny it would be if baseball was like wrestling and players were whacking each other with chairs constantly, but that’s not funny—getting hit with a steel chair hurts! Wouldn’t we do better to follow Bad News Brown’s shining example and hurt with words? (Note: Before hurting with chairs.) Before Jose would ever want to see one Major League player hit another with a chair, he would want to see them emulate Mr. Brown’s performance when he was feuding with Randy “Macho Man” Savage. Brown pointed out calmly, rationally, that the reason he had been unable to get a match with the then champion was that Miss Elizabeth, Savage’s manager, was doing “special favors” for WWF Commissioner Jack Tunney.
Who wouldn’t want to see that in baseball? Wouldn’t you enjoy seeing Alex Rodriguez suggest that the reason Derek Jeter get’s to play shortstop is that Jessica Alba was doing “special favors” for Joe Torre? Or perhaps watching Barry Bonds insist that Commissioner Bud Selig was out to get him because Hank Aaron’s wife Gloria had done him “special favors.”
Baseball needs this, America needs this. Where have you gone Bad News Brown? A nation turns its lonely eyes to you.
Read KEYS you beer-bellied share cropper
or I'll come back down from heaven and give
you a ghetto blaster
3. The Ron Borges plagiarism story isn’t technically a baseball story, but it’s important and Jose wants to make sure to comment on it in his own, completely original words.
Forget two months without Ron Borges. When the Boston Globe's latest plagiarism scandal subsides, the lasting impact could be a major change in the way the paper’s sports-notes columnists — Borges for football, Peter May for basketball, Kevin Paul Dupont for hockey, and Nick Cafardo for baseball — do their business every week.
In case you missed it, Borges — a much-read, much-reviled football writer who also covers boxing — was suspended without pay for two months on March 5, after the Web site ColdHardFootballFacts.com revealed that he’d recycled material from a Tacoma News Tribune item in his March 4 “Football Notes.” The official announcement of Borges’s suspension, which was posted on Boston.com Monday evening, reported that Borges subscribes to “an online notes exchange used by NFL writers, who share information with one another in advance of Sunday notebook columns that run in many newspapers.”
Might Borges’s punishment have been harsher if editor Marty Baron didn’t have to worry about the low morale that’s gripped the paper amid the latest round of cutbacks? In an e-mail to the Phoenix, Baron says the answer is no. “We follow our procedures and policies regardless of what else is happening at the time,” he writes. “No factors other than those directly relevant to this matter entered into our decision.”
Of course, if there was any gamesmanship involved here, Baron could hardly be expected to acknowledge it. With the union already up in arms about buyouts and outsourcing, Borges may well have gotten a better deal than he deserved.
(Note: KEY 3 was prepared based in part on materials assembled from outside sources including, okay entirely, Adam Reilly’s piece in the Boston Phoenix. But the first sentence, where Jose says he is going to talk in his own words is completely original. Jose would have passed Seth Mnookin’s work off as his own, but Mnookin, mister big shot media critic, hasn’t bothered to write anything about it yet.)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
1. This has been a terrible spring training. No joke. Normally this is the point in the spring where Jose would be cracking jokes, lame tired jokes, but jokes nevertheless about doing typing drills, and writing simulated blogs. But not this year… unless you want to count what he just wrote. But you shouldn’t.
No, this year, Jose has done very, very little in the way of spring training work. He has yet to write on consecutive days, everything feels kind of flat and lifeless, and, let’s be honest, he came into camp this year in poor writing shape.
Jose is getting up there in years, everyone’s seen his basic material a few times round now, and he isn’t surprising too many people. Yeah, he’d like to do this for a few more years, what with the lure of $15.75 in book royalties per anum, but unless he comes up with something new, it’s not going to happen.
Basically, Jose is Curt Euro, but with no Major League Baseball chops, without millions of dollars, absent a place in Red Sox lore, and soon, with a less popular blog. On the upside, Jose is not fat. So he’s got that going for him.
So perhaps Jose should take a cue from Curt and develop something new this spring, the literary equivalent of the changeup Euro through 15 times in yesterday’s preseason outing. But what would be a change up for a blog that compares baseball to wrestling, comics, politics, philosophy, theology, television and feminine hygiene? Jose’s taste is pretty eclectic, so it’s going to take some real work to come up with something that is a true change from his current stuff. The way Jose sees it he has two choices. Either he can start comparing baseball to finger sandwiches (note: Jose likes his managers like he likes his cucumber sandwiches at high tea, not too crusty) or he can start loading up on NASCAR metaphors (note: watching Kyle Snyder pitch is like watching some bad driver, Jose’s not looking one up, at Daytona. It’s boring, he crashes and burns a lot and his fuel injectors are clogged or something).
See? There’s a lot of work to be done between now and opening day if Jose’s going to produce this year.
2. Bad News Brown died this week.
Bad news for him. Still, the man live a full life. He was an Olympic bronze medalist in judo in 1976, he was a headline wrestler in the WWF and Stampede wrestling in Calgary, he was probably the manager in the Bad News Bears, Jose doesn’t remember, and he devised the greatest wrestling put down since Classy Freddie Blassie, coined “pencil necked geek,” with his simple, elegant construction “beer-bellied sharecropper.” He died on March 6, 2007 at the age of 63, not bad for a wrestler, and Jose misses him.
But this is not a time to lament the death of the great man, but to celebrate his life. And Jose can think of no better celebration, no more fitting tribute, than the dissemination of the values he represented into professional baseball. Anyone can make jokes about how funny it would be if baseball was like wrestling and players were whacking each other with chairs constantly, but that’s not funny—getting hit with a steel chair hurts! Wouldn’t we do better to follow Bad News Brown’s shining example and hurt with words? (Note: Before hurting with chairs.) Before Jose would ever want to see one Major League player hit another with a chair, he would want to see them emulate Mr. Brown’s performance when he was feuding with Randy “Macho Man” Savage. Brown pointed out calmly, rationally, that the reason he had been unable to get a match with the then champion was that Miss Elizabeth, Savage’s manager, was doing “special favors” for WWF Commissioner Jack Tunney.
Who wouldn’t want to see that in baseball? Wouldn’t you enjoy seeing Alex Rodriguez suggest that the reason Derek Jeter get’s to play shortstop is that Jessica Alba was doing “special favors” for Joe Torre? Or perhaps watching Barry Bonds insist that Commissioner Bud Selig was out to get him because Hank Aaron’s wife Gloria had done him “special favors.”
Baseball needs this, America needs this. Where have you gone Bad News Brown? A nation turns its lonely eyes to you.
Read KEYS you beer-bellied share cropper
or I'll come back down from heaven and give
you a ghetto blaster
3. The Ron Borges plagiarism story isn’t technically a baseball story, but it’s important and Jose wants to make sure to comment on it in his own, completely original words.
Forget two months without Ron Borges. When the Boston Globe's latest plagiarism scandal subsides, the lasting impact could be a major change in the way the paper’s sports-notes columnists — Borges for football, Peter May for basketball, Kevin Paul Dupont for hockey, and Nick Cafardo for baseball — do their business every week.
In case you missed it, Borges — a much-read, much-reviled football writer who also covers boxing — was suspended without pay for two months on March 5, after the Web site ColdHardFootballFacts.com revealed that he’d recycled material from a Tacoma News Tribune item in his March 4 “Football Notes.” The official announcement of Borges’s suspension, which was posted on Boston.com Monday evening, reported that Borges subscribes to “an online notes exchange used by NFL writers, who share information with one another in advance of Sunday notebook columns that run in many newspapers.”
Might Borges’s punishment have been harsher if editor Marty Baron didn’t have to worry about the low morale that’s gripped the paper amid the latest round of cutbacks? In an e-mail to the Phoenix, Baron says the answer is no. “We follow our procedures and policies regardless of what else is happening at the time,” he writes. “No factors other than those directly relevant to this matter entered into our decision.”
Of course, if there was any gamesmanship involved here, Baron could hardly be expected to acknowledge it. With the union already up in arms about buyouts and outsourcing, Borges may well have gotten a better deal than he deserved.
(Note: KEY 3 was prepared based in part on materials assembled from outside sources including, okay entirely, Adam Reilly’s piece in the Boston Phoenix. But the first sentence, where Jose says he is going to talk in his own words is completely original. Jose would have passed Seth Mnookin’s work off as his own, but Mnookin, mister big shot media critic, hasn’t bothered to write anything about it yet.)
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
Monday, March 5
No News Is Good News
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO TO SPRING TRAINING.
1. Amazing. We are now five days into the start of spring training competition and Jose has nothing he want to write about. Usually it takes him a good week or two to get sick of the spring training story lines, but not this year. Nope, this year he was tired of them as soon as they started. Ennui, thy name is spring training.
Jose supposes this is a function of getting older. The same story lines cycle year after year. The names change, but the narratives are timeless. They fall into a few basic categories.
- The phenom: Some highly touted player has come over by trade, free agency or through the farm system, and everyone is a titter about what he might do. This year it’s Mr. Matsu, last year it was Josh Beckett. Earlier than them it was Pedro, Nomar and probably Harry Hooper if you go back far enough.
- The distraction: We know this one better than any of them. A player says something, or does something that suggests less than total happiness with the team or his role on it, and everyone in the press takes turns lacing into him. This year it’s Manny. The year before, it was Manny. The year before that it was Manny. The year before that it was M. Ramirez.
Of course Roger Clemens wearing his headphones while Butch Hobson tried to talk to them was way, way worse.
- Camp tranquility: This is the one reporters hate, the training camp where everything is peachy keen, no one is demanding a trade, complaining about playing time or going to jail. Jose, on the other hand, loves it, because it makes him think of the Sea of Tranquility on the moon, and he loves space stuff.
- The surprise: Someone comes out of nowhere to have monstrous spring training. Dave McCarty hits a million home runs, Cesar Crespo hits at all, Pat Lennon looks big and menacing, Conner Henry lights it up, that sort of thing. But you know what? They never pan out, ever. Yay Alberto Castillo has an OPS of 1.600 so far, but do you think he’d half any where close to half of that if he got to play in the regular season? Well, his career .OPS is under .600.
Still, we can dream.
- The injury: Nomar’s ankle, Jeff Frye’s knee. You know the story, the lineup is set and then someone has to go and blow out an important body part. Jose hates this story line. Still, if we have to go through this story this season, please let it my Doug Mirabelli’s arteries.
- The weird injury: A cousin of the injury, this category can be just as devastating to a team yet at least offers some comedic value. Famous examples, include Yankee killer Vaughn “Eshel-K” Eshelman lighting his hotel room (note: and hands) on fire while warming a baby bottle, Wade Boggs “falling from a moving car” and Darren Bragg being eaten by Rich Garces. Jose’s best bet for this year’s weird injury involves Eric Hinske and Polonium-210.
So those are the possible story lines. Take any Red Sox story in the paper and it will fit quite neatly into one of those narratives, which is why spring training is boring.
2. Okay Jose was wrong. He’s man enough to admit it. No, not about everyone hating Bob Stanley, but about there being no interesting story lines in spring training this year. There is one: Who will close?
With Jonathan Paplebon returning to the rotation, the closer spot is wide open, leading some to suggest that the Red Sox may well return to the “closer by committee” approach that was regarded as a disaster in 2003. And while it certainly didn’t go well, Jose would argue that the 2003 relief debacle was not really an indictment of the closer by committee concept, but rather evidence of poor process management. Come on, even the most dimwitted of bureaucrats knows that for a committee to work, you need a carefully constructed set of governance bylaws. Why couldn’t Grady see that?
So with that it mind, Jose has taken the liberty of drafting some bylaws that will establish a process to build consensus to reach conclusions on choosing a baseball pitcher for the purpose of concluding a given baseball contest.
1. Bullpen Coach Gary Tuck shall serve as Chairman of what shell henceforth be known as the Boston Latitudinal Organization With Senior Authority Verifying Endgame Situations, or BLOW SAVES for short.
1A. In the event the bullpen coach is incapacitated (note: or drunk), pitching coach John Farrell shall serves as Chairman Pro Tempore.
2. Each member of the “bullpen” so-called shall receive one vote towards the making of decisions.
2A. Left-handed pitchers, pitching an average of less than 1.0 innings per appearance, “LOOGY’s” so-called, shall receive only one-half of the vote.
2B. The Chairman shall receive one vote
2C. Any “reliever pitcher” so-called making a spot start shall lose the franchise for a period of five games.
2D. The bullpen catcher shall receive one vote, provided it is not Doug Mirabelli, who is too stupid to vote. Doug Mirabelli shall receive negative five votes.
3. With one out in the top half of the fourth inning, the chairman shall distribute an agenda for the day’s committee meeting to all members.
3A. Members shall have until there are two outs in the bottom of the sixth inning to submit agenda changes.
4. During the seventh inning stretch, the Chair shall call the committee to order, and, after a vote on the minutes of the previous meeting, which must be adopted by a three-fourths vote on a call of the roll, accept nominations for closer
4A. Any member of the bullpen may be nominated for closer for the day.
4A(i). Except Julian Tavarez
4A(ii). Ever.
4B. To be under consideration, said nominee must receive a second.
4B(i). Anyone calling out “third” will be shot.
4C. After nominations are completed, the chair shall hold a vote by a call of the role
4D. The closer shall be which ever candidate can garner a two-thirds majority of votes.
4E. In the event that no pitcher has received the requisite two-thirds, there shall be a second ballot.
4E(i). Balloting shall continue until one pitcher receives the two-thirds majority or Tito Eurona gets pissed and put Jonathan Paplebon back in the bullpen.
See. Structure. Order. Process. And it should all be clean and straightforward. Unless someone files a motion to reconsider. Then it gets messy.
3.Carl Pavano made a spring training start for the Yankees yesterday, and the Boston Globe gave it an honest to God three-fourths of a column inch. Why would they do that?
Isn’t it time that we stop pretending that Carl Pavano pitching is actually baseball news and put it in the appropriate category. Basically, it’s like a kid with cancer or a 95 year old man coming out to throw the first pitch. Sure, it’s nice that they get to go out there, but their bodies can’t handle the rigors of the game, and there’s no way they’re ever going to pitch in a major league game. You don’t see those stories in the paper, and thus Pavano shouldn’t be there either. They should just let the man through his one pitch from the front of the mound, have Jorge Posada come shake his hand and then have an usher escort him to a seat in section 26 row L.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
Tuesday, February 27
Early Bird Gets the Spurn
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
1. What a dick move. There, Jose said it. What a dick a move. He said it again.
Since Manny came to Boston with, in the words of Bill Weld, nothing more than the shirt on his back and 20 tons of gold, he has had no bigger apologist than Jose. But that’s over now.
Jose could handle the questionable injuries, the mysterious family illnesses, the causal canters to first, the perpetual trade demands, but not this. Nope. Jose hates, H-A-T-E-S, HATES when people show up early. It’s so damn inconsiderate.
So when Manny showed up in Fort Myers yesterday on February 26, two full days before the reporting deadline and three days before he said he was going to report, Jose just lost it.
Jose is sure the Red Sox are none too happy either. He can just imagine. Tito’s in the clubhouse shower and suddenly the bell rings. Surprised and confused, he wraps a towel around himself and staggers, dripping, to the door, his scalp still slathered in soap. And Manny’s just standing there, a tub of potato salad in hand saying “Hi, Tito man, hope it’s okay that I came by a little early.”
It’s not okay. Tito is dripping, the food isn’t out yet, there’s no music on and he’s not even done vacuuming the carpet, and now he has to entertain Manny while he gets ready? So he does the only thing he can, he pretends it’s okay, and calls for Doug Mirabelli to entertain Manny with his rendition of “I’m a Little Teapot, while he finishes his shower.
Tito rushes back to wash off what’s left of the lather. No time to wax his head or iron his shirt. Not five minutes later he’s back down and Manny is already into the shrimp cocktail and is playing catch with Doug… in the house. To make matters worse, Doug starts talking about how he wants to get dreadlocks just like Manny. Nightmare.
So that’s it. No more. There are lines in society you just don’t cross. You don’t leave puppies by the side of the road, you don’t crap on the sidewalk and you don’t show up early. It’s just Manny being Manny? No, screw that. It’s Manny being a selfish jerk who doesn’t think that other people might need time for shower a shave and a moment with the Mrs. before the party starts.
2. There was a tough letter to the editor in today’s Boston Globe censuring new Sox reliever Brendan Donnelly for being sexist jerk. Donnelly had told Dan Shaughnessy in a column in Monday’s Globe that the low point in his career had come when he pitched to a young woman in a Frontier League game in West Virginia.
The letter’s author, polemicist Courtney Feeley Karp of Jamaica Plain, scolded
With the strides women in sports have made in the 35 years of Mr. Donnelly's
life, I find it revolting that such a view could be displayed so proudly in the
press by someone wearing the uniform of a team I love so much. Whatever else
professional athletes are, they are people children look up to and aspire to be,
and comments like Mr. Donnelly's send a poor message to boys and girls.
Jose takes exception to this analysis. He thinks it sends a great message to both boys and girls. First, the boys. Listen up men! If you are an aspiring Major League pitcher and not only are you in the Frontier League but women are getting hits off of you, you should absolutely quit professional baseball and go get an education, because you are going to need it. This is not to say women can’t be fine athletes. They can, but if women, children or Cesar Crespo are getting hits off you, it is safe to say you are never going to make it to the show, and you should walk away from the sunk costs and do something else with your life.
Now for the girls. Ladies, Jose knows that some of you, well, at least one of you, were offended by Donnelly’s comments. But let Jose ask you a question? Don’t you kind of like the idea that you could destroy a man, that you could take a young strong guy and rip away his dreams? That’s some serious power isn’t it? Think about it. All this woman in West Virginia needed to do was to bloop a base hit over short and Brendan Donnelly, a future Major League Pitcher would have hung up his spikes for good. This means that you ladies have an important role to play in America’s pastime.
What if a woman had gotten a hit off of Calvin Schiraldi in the minors? Would Game 6 never have happened? What if Marino Rivera had given up a hit to some chica down in Panama? Would there have been a Yankee dynasty? You have the power ladies. You do. Now go get to work getting a hit off of Rudy Seanez.
3. In other news, kudos to former Sox GM Dan Duquette, for taking over as Director of Operations for the newly formed Israeli Baseball League, established with the goal of preparing Israel for the 2009 World Baseball Classic. Jose had advocated for an Israeli team in the WBC last spring, so it is good to see someone go to work on it. Though let’s be honest, if anyone had said a Red Sox GM would be running an Israeli baseball league, we all know who we would have guessed, that’s right noted Zionist Haywood Sullivan. His son Marc could play there and everything.
Still, while the goal is noble, Jose does wonder if the new enterprise might encounter more than a few cultural and geopolitical challenges.
- Will the pitchers mound be at the 1948, 1967 or 1973 height?
- Will the Wailing Wall need to be lowered to increase the number of home runs? Should they sell seats on top of it?
- If baseball becomes a hit in the Middle East what will Arabs play baseball in? The name the Arab League is already taken.
- Is it really a good idea to give anyone in the Middle East a bat?
- Since observant Jews are not allowed to complete and work on the Sabbath, will Friday night or Saturday afternoon games have to be 8 2/3 innings long?
- Won’t some Palestinian Manny Ramirez just use roadblocks as an excuse to show up late?
On the upside, all of the hot dogs will be kosher, which taste better anyway.
I’m Jose Melendez, and those are my KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
Thursday, February 22
Manny on the Auction Block
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE TO SPRING TRAINING.
1. “Manny headed to Atlantic City?”
That was the teaser that popped into the lower left hand side of Jose’s humble 27 inch screen as Lost reached its conclusion last night. He began to panic. Atlantic City? Atlantic City? Jose rushed off to grab his computer hoping against hope to figure out how this could have come to pass. Why was this happening? Who could we get in return?
Then Jose remembered—there is no Major League team in Atlantic City.
Phew… Crisis averted.
If the Red Sox were sending Manny to Atlantic City, the only thing they could hope to get in return would be Boardwalk and Park Place, which when you think about it, is still a better return then Aubrey Huff and Mike Cameron.
Calmed, Jose returned to watch the final few minutes of his television program, before it occurred to him, if Manny isn’t being traded to Atlantic City, what exactly is the big news about him going there? Is he going to compete in Miss America? Nope, that hasn’t been in Atlantic City since 2006. Since Manny lives at the Ritz Residences, did the recent acquisition of Ritz-Carlton Boston by Taj Hotels and Resorts confuse him into thinking that he now lived at the Taj Mahal Casino in Atlantic City? Possibly.
But no, the real story is that an ad has claimed that Manny will be attending a classic car auction in Atlantic City this weekend. This is big news. Huge. “Rich eccentric to attend expensive auction.” Sounds like front page above the fold stuff to Jose.
But it’s not that Manny is going. No, it’s that he’s going when he should be at spring training tossing medicine balls around and ignoring the press from up close rather than at the distance to which he has grown accustomed these last few months. We’re supposed to be concerned because Manny quit on the team last year, remember? We’re supposed to be furious that he is failing to fulfill his obligation to the team.
But what about his obligation to the car auction? Did any of you jerks ever think about that? These guys advertised Manny Ramirez, so what do they do if he ditches them, reneges on his commitment in order to get in a couple extra days of stretching? Wouldn’t he be quitting then? Wouldn’t he be ducking out on his obligations? We’d problem see Atlantic City television stations teasing “Manny to Florida?” And the Boston media would relentlessly pound him for failing to take commitments to small businessmen seriously. The poor guy can’t win.
But there’s a solution here. The Red Sox should just move Spring Training to Atlantic City. Sure it’s a little colder than you might like, but setting up a facility there shouldn’t be too expensive. Jose hears there are properties on Baltic Avenue, available for like 60 bucks.
Your next Spring Training destination.
2. In other news, DJ Dru doesn’t care what you think. According to both Dan Shaughnessy, who hates Dru because he hates everyone, and Gerry Callahan who hates Dru because he’s black (note: don’t tell Callahan Dru’s white; if Callahan learns that he hates a white guy, his head might explode), the new right fielder is completely indifferent to what you, Jose, Tony LaRussa, Curt Euro, the Grand old Duke of York and Jesus Christ think of him.
When asked if he cares what his mother thought of him, Dru was purported to say “that old hag can go f* herself.”
The result is that Jose is confused. More so. He had thought that the story line was supposed to be that Dru was a player who would struggle in a passionate town like Boston, that he was one of those players who simply wasn’t cut out for northeastern baseball. But now everyone’s saying that he doesn’t care what people think of him, that he is an unresponsive jerk, who is indifferent to the concerns and condemnation of the average fan.
So which is it? Is DJ Dru an oversensitive wuss who will crumple under the steamy salt lamps of Boston Baseball or is he a self involved jerk who is indifferent to everyone and everything around him? He can’t be both, so the media should really pick one and run with it… unless they want to work some sort of Cybil, multiple-personality angle on him, but those never seem to work out very well.
How about this. Dru could become an alcoholic, who is really sensitive when sober but a raging narcissist when drunk? That would have the added benefit of moving him a step closer to fulfilling his destiny of becoming the next Mickey Mantle.
3. Jose was all set to sell you guys out. He really was.
A week or so ago, Jose got an email from a PR flack suggesting that KEYS readers might be interested is some device one of his clients was marketing that sends real time sports scores directly into your genital organs so your gametes can keep track of the Bentley/Stonehill Lacrosse game, or whatever your pleasure is.
Sure, it came to Jose’s junk mail box, and sure Jose usually empties said junk mail box without a thought, but he had a good feeling about this one. So he did the only thing he could think to do; he looked for free merch.
“Sorry Jose has a policy against promoting products that he has not used and books that he has not read,” he wrote, hoping desperately to be offered a bribe.
But it was not meant to be. And it’s a shame, Jose was totally ready to sell you all on the virtues of a potential wonder product, but instead he’ll just have to stick to promoting products he truly believes in like male enhancers, cheap internet valium and Edgar Renteria. (Note: What do these three have in common? In each case, one does not get what was advertised.)
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
1. “Manny headed to Atlantic City?”
That was the teaser that popped into the lower left hand side of Jose’s humble 27 inch screen as Lost reached its conclusion last night. He began to panic. Atlantic City? Atlantic City? Jose rushed off to grab his computer hoping against hope to figure out how this could have come to pass. Why was this happening? Who could we get in return?
Then Jose remembered—there is no Major League team in Atlantic City.
Phew… Crisis averted.
If the Red Sox were sending Manny to Atlantic City, the only thing they could hope to get in return would be Boardwalk and Park Place, which when you think about it, is still a better return then Aubrey Huff and Mike Cameron.
Calmed, Jose returned to watch the final few minutes of his television program, before it occurred to him, if Manny isn’t being traded to Atlantic City, what exactly is the big news about him going there? Is he going to compete in Miss America? Nope, that hasn’t been in Atlantic City since 2006. Since Manny lives at the Ritz Residences, did the recent acquisition of Ritz-Carlton Boston by Taj Hotels and Resorts confuse him into thinking that he now lived at the Taj Mahal Casino in Atlantic City? Possibly.
But no, the real story is that an ad has claimed that Manny will be attending a classic car auction in Atlantic City this weekend. This is big news. Huge. “Rich eccentric to attend expensive auction.” Sounds like front page above the fold stuff to Jose.
But it’s not that Manny is going. No, it’s that he’s going when he should be at spring training tossing medicine balls around and ignoring the press from up close rather than at the distance to which he has grown accustomed these last few months. We’re supposed to be concerned because Manny quit on the team last year, remember? We’re supposed to be furious that he is failing to fulfill his obligation to the team.
But what about his obligation to the car auction? Did any of you jerks ever think about that? These guys advertised Manny Ramirez, so what do they do if he ditches them, reneges on his commitment in order to get in a couple extra days of stretching? Wouldn’t he be quitting then? Wouldn’t he be ducking out on his obligations? We’d problem see Atlantic City television stations teasing “Manny to Florida?” And the Boston media would relentlessly pound him for failing to take commitments to small businessmen seriously. The poor guy can’t win.
But there’s a solution here. The Red Sox should just move Spring Training to Atlantic City. Sure it’s a little colder than you might like, but setting up a facility there shouldn’t be too expensive. Jose hears there are properties on Baltic Avenue, available for like 60 bucks.
Your next Spring Training destination.2. In other news, DJ Dru doesn’t care what you think. According to both Dan Shaughnessy, who hates Dru because he hates everyone, and Gerry Callahan who hates Dru because he’s black (note: don’t tell Callahan Dru’s white; if Callahan learns that he hates a white guy, his head might explode), the new right fielder is completely indifferent to what you, Jose, Tony LaRussa, Curt Euro, the Grand old Duke of York and Jesus Christ think of him.
When asked if he cares what his mother thought of him, Dru was purported to say “that old hag can go f* herself.”
The result is that Jose is confused. More so. He had thought that the story line was supposed to be that Dru was a player who would struggle in a passionate town like Boston, that he was one of those players who simply wasn’t cut out for northeastern baseball. But now everyone’s saying that he doesn’t care what people think of him, that he is an unresponsive jerk, who is indifferent to the concerns and condemnation of the average fan.
So which is it? Is DJ Dru an oversensitive wuss who will crumple under the steamy salt lamps of Boston Baseball or is he a self involved jerk who is indifferent to everyone and everything around him? He can’t be both, so the media should really pick one and run with it… unless they want to work some sort of Cybil, multiple-personality angle on him, but those never seem to work out very well.
How about this. Dru could become an alcoholic, who is really sensitive when sober but a raging narcissist when drunk? That would have the added benefit of moving him a step closer to fulfilling his destiny of becoming the next Mickey Mantle.
3. Jose was all set to sell you guys out. He really was.
A week or so ago, Jose got an email from a PR flack suggesting that KEYS readers might be interested is some device one of his clients was marketing that sends real time sports scores directly into your genital organs so your gametes can keep track of the Bentley/Stonehill Lacrosse game, or whatever your pleasure is.
Sure, it came to Jose’s junk mail box, and sure Jose usually empties said junk mail box without a thought, but he had a good feeling about this one. So he did the only thing he could think to do; he looked for free merch.
“Sorry Jose has a policy against promoting products that he has not used and books that he has not read,” he wrote, hoping desperately to be offered a bribe.
But it was not meant to be. And it’s a shame, Jose was totally ready to sell you all on the virtues of a potential wonder product, but instead he’ll just have to stick to promoting products he truly believes in like male enhancers, cheap internet valium and Edgar Renteria. (Note: What do these three have in common? In each case, one does not get what was advertised.)
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
Tuesday, February 20
Better Late...
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE TO SPRING TRAINING,
1. Manny is late. Well, not yet, but he will be. We know because Julienned Tavarez told us so, and why would he lie to us? And as usual people are going to make a big deal about it. Jose, however, will not be one of them. You know why? Because being late just isn’t that big a deal—unless you’re Bridget Moynahan. (Note: Zing!)
Since Manny’s late arrival and the former Tom Brady gal pal’s late period are the two biggest sports stories of the day, Jose thought he would explain all of the reasons why the tardy sloughing of Bridget’s uterus (note: due to impregnation) is a far more serious story.
- Manny didn’t wait three months to tell anyone he was late.
- These nine missed periods will change Bridget and Brady’s life, Manny’s lateness won’t change a thing.
- Brady actual broke up with Bridget. Manny despite his best efforts is still with the Red Sox.
- No one has characterized Moynahan having her ex’s baby as “Just Bridget being Bridget.”
- Manny’s tardiness is unlikely to have an adverse impact on a future bid for Senate.
- No one is suggesting that Manny’s lateness is a result of “skipping pills.”
- No one has blamed Bridget’s lateness on her mom having surgery.
- Dan Shaughnessy regards being a day late for camp as a far graver sin than having a child out of wedlock.
See. Now is Manny being late really such a big deal? No. It’s not like he’s contributing to the breakdown of the family and ultimate collapse of western civilization like some other people we could mention.
2. Other major Red Sox spring training news comes not from Fort Myers, but from the Indians camp, wherever the hell that is, as former Red Sox closer Keith Foulke took a break from watching Canadian junior league hockey to announce his retirement. The news came as elbow pain replaced knee pain and back pain at the top of Foulke’s “reason’s I’m pitching like sh*t” list.
Jose is not prone to weepy goodbyes, but in Foulke’s case, he will make an exception. Foulke’s overwhelming workload, and his overwhelming brilliance in the 2004 post season is, with the possible exception of David Ortiz’s heroics, the single biggest reason the Red Sox were able to end their 86 year World Series drought. And it may have cost him his career. Sure, we have no evidence that Foulke’s astonishing post season pitch count led to his injury problems, but we do know that he was dominant through the 2004 post season and disasterous thereafter. So let’s give the benefit of the doubt and assume that he sacrificed his body, his career, to save the season.
One of the popular writing tools in the new sports journalism is to compare players to girlfriends, Manny is the dumb blond you keep around because the sex is amazing, Mark Bellhorn is the charming deaf/mute and Roger Clemens (note: as characterized by Bill Simmons) is a cheating, treacherous so and so. So what is Foulke? Given how many members of Red Sox nation saw fit to boo Foulke for his miserable performances even after what he did in 2004, Jose would say Foulke is the girlfriend who jumps in front of pail of hydrochloric acid flung at her boyfriend thus saving him from disfigurement at the cost of her own beauty. He thanks her profusely, and waits on her hand and foot while she’s in the hospital. But then a few months pass, the reconstructive surgery doesn’t go so well, and he gets frustrated that she doesn’t want to have sex because she’s insecure about her appearance. So he starts telling her she’s ugly and a lousy girlfriend who’d rather watch hockey than make love. She responds by saying that she would rather join a convent, then have sex with some Johnny Burger King. And the next thing you know she’s gone off to date some guy in Cleveland who figures the scars will heal with time. But they don’t so she throws herself into the Cuyahoga and burns to death or drowns, whichever comes first.
So does the guy she saved send flowers to her grave? He’d better. Jose doesn’t want to be the guy who doesn’t, and neither should any of you, so let Jose offer the following oratorical funeral wreath.
Thank you Keith Foulke for what you did in 2004, for pitching brilliantly when you had nothing left, for catching Edgar Renteria’s come backer to end the Series and even for giving up that double to Papi in Game 4 of the 2003 ALDS. Also, you were great on that episode of Lost.
3. Over in Tampa, the Yankees training camp seems to be in turmoil as Bernie Williams has declined to show up because he has to compete for a roster spot, general partner Steve Swindal is dealing with the fallout from his DUI, and Alex Rodriquez has addressed his deteriorating relationship with Derek Jeter.
While conceding that his once close relationship with his “blood brother” Jeter was no longer so close, A-Rod offered a deal to reporters. "Let's make a contract,” said the third baseman. “You don't ask me about Derek anymore, and I promise I'll stop lying to all you guys."
Following the comment, Rodriguez’s agent, Scott Boras, told reporters that such a “not lying” contract, would demand compensation of upwards of $25 million per year for the next 10 years.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO SPRING TRAINING.
Tuesday, February 13
Nicknames, Nicknames, Nicknames!!!
It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE TOP 100 RED SOX.
More fun from the Top 100 Red Sox Project.
1. Jim Tabor
As you may have guessed by now, Jose loves the Blues Brothers. Also, Jim Tabor, who played third for the Sox from 1938-1944 was nicknamed “Rawhide.” But what do we really know about the man from New Hope, Alabama, a little southern town named for the as yet to be produced fourth chapter of the Star Wars saga? While he debuted in 1938, he didn’t really make his mark as a true rookie until 1939, when his 14 home run 95 RBI debut season was cast into shadow by the far brighter light of fellow rookie Ted Williams. His career was respectable but by no means brilliant. For instance, his top comparable according to Baseball Reference is Aaron Boone, who, as we all know, has yet to do anything of note in his career.
Still, there are a few quirks that make Tabor more noteworthy than the typical .270 career hitter. First, he is one of the small fraternity of players to hit grand slams in consecutive innings, a feat he accomplished on July 4, 1939. Second, he is one of very few major league baseball players whose last name is actually an acronym. TABOR, of course, stands for the Taxpayer Bill of Rights, a controversial Colorado constitutional amendment that has, since 1992, greatly restricted the state’s ability to raise revenue. Among the other Major Leaguers who have an acronym for a last name is Melvin Mora, named for the Michigan Off-road Racing Association. Mora, curiously, is Baseball Reference’s third best comparable for Tabor.
2. Bob Stanley
Bob Stanley, nicknamed “Steamer” because like the Stanley Steamer vacuum, he sucks, is perhaps the best Red Sox player to be almost universally disliked in the popular imagination. Roger Clemens may be hated by many, but others still love him. Jose Offerman and Mike Lansing might be derided, but they weren’t terribly good, but ol’ Bob Stanley was both awfully good and awfully disliked by the Red Sox faithful.
Be honest, have you ever met a Bob Stanley fan? (Note: Okay, at his Baseball Reference page his fenwaynation.com sponsors describe him as “Forever beloved for plunking Mike Barnacle at the 1992 Sox Fantasy Camp In Winter Haven.” But they don’t count. And have you noticed Jose is borrowing heavily from Baseball Reference in these? Wikipedia too, but not that he’s mentioned it, it’s not plagiarism.)
But why was Bob Stanley so disliked? Was it his wild pitch that allowed Mookie Wilson to score the tying run in Game 6 of the 1986 World Series? Nope, every one knows that was a passed ball. Beside, Dave
Stapleton should have been pitching, or something like that. Was it the relish with which he played his role as the bullpen fun police and heartless killjoy? Possibly, this is the guy who ceremonially popped a beach ball with a rake on his appreciation night at Fenway. Really. Still, probably not.
No the reason, that Bob Stanley is widely unloved despite being the Red Sox All-Time save leader with 132, despite having a career ERA of 3.64, despite being a two time All-Star is that Bob Stanley, for all of his excellence, never, ever allowed fans to feel safe when he entered a game. Even in 1983 when he was second in the A.L. in saves with 33 and plunked down a nifty 2.85 ERA, did you ever relax when he entered a game? No, you didn’t, unless you responded to his entering a game with 50mg of valium.
A while ago, Jose suggested that a new statistic be named after Steamer. He suggested that when a reliever picks up a win after blowing a lead, effectively stealing the win, he should be credited with a “Stanley.” Look at his numbers. In 1983, arguably his best season, Stanley saved 33 games while blowing 14 saves, tying a major league record. At the same time, he had eight wins and 10 losses. Do you ever feel good when your closer has that many decisions? Chances are quite a few of those wins should be scored as Stanleys.
Yes, yes, the single season blown save record is shared with a couple of pretty good pitchers named Fingers and Sutter, but still, 14 in a year? Only in a situation like that, could Calvin Schiraldi swipe the closing job.
3. Manny Ramirez
We have reached a strange and wondrous time in baseball writing. What else can you call it when age old sayings like “you’ve got to play who’s on the schedule” “Hit ‘em where they ain’t” and “I can’t pinch run, I’ve got a herpes outbreak” have all slid down the cliché totem pole behind what is unquestionably the most non-expository and overused platitude in the game today “It’s just Manny, being Manny?”
It’s just Manny being Manny. What the hell does that mean? In common parlance, it seems to suggest that one take’s the good with the bad, that along with the more than 30 home runs and 100 RBI every single year, one must accept the awkward fielding, the occasional failure to run to first, the peeing in the wall, and the incessant trade demands.
But is that what it should mean? How should we interpret this phenomenon of Mannyism. Is Mannyism some curse, some disease whose sufferers must be quarantined lest they contaminate the whole lot? Is it an infection or merely a functional disease? How far away are we from
nervous soccer moms pestering overburdened psychiatrists to prescribe gleemonex to treat their children’s latent Mannyism? And how far away are we from the day, when the most anxious among these mothers start blaming pesticides, refined sugar or vaccinations for the epidemic of Mannyism sweeping the country? But Mannyism is not a disease, and we should not treat it as such.
No, Jose rejects the clinical definition of Mannyism and instead proposes his own. “Mannyism. Noun 1. A condition wherein one competes without malice, plays without anger, and achieves astonishing excellence without forgetting that he is playing a child’s game.
”
We live in a sporting world filled with angry men. These bitter ones fume that athletes do not adequately appreciate their gifts, they rage that stars are not as driven as they would be if only they had the arm, the speed the strength. To them Manny is anathema, a petulant, casual fool, to be derided for his unwillingness to sacrifice, body and soul for the game.
They are wrong. Manny is what the game is all about. You know the kid in little league who is so interested in the bugs in the grass that he forgets about a flyball headed towards him? That’s Manny. The kid who stands in front of the mirror swinging an imaginary bat and imagining the roar of the crowd? That’s Manny too. And the goofy kid who is loved by all of his teammates, regardless of what he does on the field? Manny being Manny.
Manny is the spacey kid made good. The kid who loves to have fun, who loves to swing the bat and grew up to be the man. He grew up to be the man who has been on ten All-Star teams, who won nine silver sluggers, two Hank Aaron awards, and a World Series MVP, all without ever losing his sense of fun.
From being taunted with chants of “Manny’s hitless,” when he roamed Fenway’s right field for the Indians in the 1999 ALDS to being cheered by the Fenway faithful for… well, pretty much everything. Manny has always been Manny. And that’s all we could ever ask.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE TOP 100 RED SOX.
More fun from the Top 100 Red Sox Project.
1. Jim Tabor
Rollin', rollin', rollin'
His throws he’s not controllin’
40 error years need consolin’
Rawhide!
His hitting was much better
Though he din’ flash much leather
Sailing his throws so high and wide
His lifetime OP eh-hess,
It ain’t that great ya gu--hess,
740 don’t give him much pride
Men are on, Batter up
Batter up, men are on
Men are on, Batter up
Rawhide
Throw em out, drive em in
Drive em in, throw em out
Throw em out, drive em in
Rawhide!
Keep movin', movin', movin'
His swing it was improving
In ’41 he’s grooving
Rawhide!
Played well through ’44
‘Til the army wanted him more
That ended his good Boston ride.
He was sold to Philly .
His play was willy-nilly
At thirty six years old well, he died.
Men are on, Batter up
Batter up, men are
Men are on, Batter up
Rawhide
Throw em out, drive em in
Drive em in, throw em out
Throw em out, drive em in
Rawhide!
Rawhide!
As you may have guessed by now, Jose loves the Blues Brothers. Also, Jim Tabor, who played third for the Sox from 1938-1944 was nicknamed “Rawhide.” But what do we really know about the man from New Hope, Alabama, a little southern town named for the as yet to be produced fourth chapter of the Star Wars saga? While he debuted in 1938, he didn’t really make his mark as a true rookie until 1939, when his 14 home run 95 RBI debut season was cast into shadow by the far brighter light of fellow rookie Ted Williams. His career was respectable but by no means brilliant. For instance, his top comparable according to Baseball Reference is Aaron Boone, who, as we all know, has yet to do anything of note in his career.
Still, there are a few quirks that make Tabor more noteworthy than the typical .270 career hitter. First, he is one of the small fraternity of players to hit grand slams in consecutive innings, a feat he accomplished on July 4, 1939. Second, he is one of very few major league baseball players whose last name is actually an acronym. TABOR, of course, stands for the Taxpayer Bill of Rights, a controversial Colorado constitutional amendment that has, since 1992, greatly restricted the state’s ability to raise revenue. Among the other Major Leaguers who have an acronym for a last name is Melvin Mora, named for the Michigan Off-road Racing Association. Mora, curiously, is Baseball Reference’s third best comparable for Tabor.
2. Bob Stanley
Bob Stanley, nicknamed “Steamer” because like the Stanley Steamer vacuum, he sucks, is perhaps the best Red Sox player to be almost universally disliked in the popular imagination. Roger Clemens may be hated by many, but others still love him. Jose Offerman and Mike Lansing might be derided, but they weren’t terribly good, but ol’ Bob Stanley was both awfully good and awfully disliked by the Red Sox faithful.
Be honest, have you ever met a Bob Stanley fan? (Note: Okay, at his Baseball Reference page his fenwaynation.com sponsors describe him as “Forever beloved for plunking Mike Barnacle at the 1992 Sox Fantasy Camp In Winter Haven.” But they don’t count. And have you noticed Jose is borrowing heavily from Baseball Reference in these? Wikipedia too, but not that he’s mentioned it, it’s not plagiarism.)
But why was Bob Stanley so disliked? Was it his wild pitch that allowed Mookie Wilson to score the tying run in Game 6 of the 1986 World Series? Nope, every one knows that was a passed ball. Beside, Dave
Stapleton should have been pitching, or something like that. Was it the relish with which he played his role as the bullpen fun police and heartless killjoy? Possibly, this is the guy who ceremonially popped a beach ball with a rake on his appreciation night at Fenway. Really. Still, probably not.No the reason, that Bob Stanley is widely unloved despite being the Red Sox All-Time save leader with 132, despite having a career ERA of 3.64, despite being a two time All-Star is that Bob Stanley, for all of his excellence, never, ever allowed fans to feel safe when he entered a game. Even in 1983 when he was second in the A.L. in saves with 33 and plunked down a nifty 2.85 ERA, did you ever relax when he entered a game? No, you didn’t, unless you responded to his entering a game with 50mg of valium.
A while ago, Jose suggested that a new statistic be named after Steamer. He suggested that when a reliever picks up a win after blowing a lead, effectively stealing the win, he should be credited with a “Stanley.” Look at his numbers. In 1983, arguably his best season, Stanley saved 33 games while blowing 14 saves, tying a major league record. At the same time, he had eight wins and 10 losses. Do you ever feel good when your closer has that many decisions? Chances are quite a few of those wins should be scored as Stanleys.
Yes, yes, the single season blown save record is shared with a couple of pretty good pitchers named Fingers and Sutter, but still, 14 in a year? Only in a situation like that, could Calvin Schiraldi swipe the closing job.
3. Manny Ramirez
We have reached a strange and wondrous time in baseball writing. What else can you call it when age old sayings like “you’ve got to play who’s on the schedule” “Hit ‘em where they ain’t” and “I can’t pinch run, I’ve got a herpes outbreak” have all slid down the cliché totem pole behind what is unquestionably the most non-expository and overused platitude in the game today “It’s just Manny, being Manny?”
It’s just Manny being Manny. What the hell does that mean? In common parlance, it seems to suggest that one take’s the good with the bad, that along with the more than 30 home runs and 100 RBI every single year, one must accept the awkward fielding, the occasional failure to run to first, the peeing in the wall, and the incessant trade demands.
But is that what it should mean? How should we interpret this phenomenon of Mannyism. Is Mannyism some curse, some disease whose sufferers must be quarantined lest they contaminate the whole lot? Is it an infection or merely a functional disease? How far away are we from
nervous soccer moms pestering overburdened psychiatrists to prescribe gleemonex to treat their children’s latent Mannyism? And how far away are we from the day, when the most anxious among these mothers start blaming pesticides, refined sugar or vaccinations for the epidemic of Mannyism sweeping the country? But Mannyism is not a disease, and we should not treat it as such.
No, Jose rejects the clinical definition of Mannyism and instead proposes his own. “Mannyism. Noun 1. A condition wherein one competes without malice, plays without anger, and achieves astonishing excellence without forgetting that he is playing a child’s game.
”We live in a sporting world filled with angry men. These bitter ones fume that athletes do not adequately appreciate their gifts, they rage that stars are not as driven as they would be if only they had the arm, the speed the strength. To them Manny is anathema, a petulant, casual fool, to be derided for his unwillingness to sacrifice, body and soul for the game.
They are wrong. Manny is what the game is all about. You know the kid in little league who is so interested in the bugs in the grass that he forgets about a flyball headed towards him? That’s Manny. The kid who stands in front of the mirror swinging an imaginary bat and imagining the roar of the crowd? That’s Manny too. And the goofy kid who is loved by all of his teammates, regardless of what he does on the field? Manny being Manny.
Manny is the spacey kid made good. The kid who loves to have fun, who loves to swing the bat and grew up to be the man. He grew up to be the man who has been on ten All-Star teams, who won nine silver sluggers, two Hank Aaron awards, and a World Series MVP, all without ever losing his sense of fun.
From being taunted with chants of “Manny’s hitless,” when he roamed Fenway’s right field for the Indians in the 1999 ALDS to being cheered by the Fenway faithful for… well, pretty much everything. Manny has always been Manny. And that’s all we could ever ask.
I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE TOP 100 RED SOX.
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