11/27/04 KEYS TO THE REUNION

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

1. After all of the stress, after all of the tension, after all of the dread, it finally happened last night. In the beer splattered bowels of Boston’s financial district, Jose Melendez’s tenth high school reunion transformed from distant anxiety to current ennui. To be honest, Jose had been worrying about the reunion since the warm Spring day when he graduated from high school in 1994.

People worry about reunions for lots of reasons. Some people want to show their old classmates that they’ve done well in life, married a beautiful woman, lost weight or simply transcended the pimple faced geekdom that defined them in them in their youth. Perhaps others want to show people that they are no longer bullies (Note: Or perhaps that they still are bullies.) But none of these "traditional" anxieties troubled Jose. Jose is basically happy with who he is now and was basically happy with who he was in high school, he’s got nothing to prove. (Note: Though Jose will confess, he was a little disappointed that no one said "You’re Jose Melendez? The Jose Melendez? Wow. I read you like twice a month. You suck. You just f*cking suck, I can’t believe you were such a d*ck to Little Cesar Crespo.") No, what troubled Jose was the nagging fear that he might be asked to help with reunion planning.

You see, Jose was Class Secretary his senior year of high school, a position that turns out to be a lifetime office, and as a class officer he could conceivably bare some nominal responsibility for the reunion. Jose didn’t really think about that when he ran for the job, though he supposes he should have known. Jose assumed that, as in most nominal democracies, elected positions are subject to, well, elections. Typically, one does not become President for Life or Secretary for Life or whatever without some sort of military or security action and frankly the BHS Class of ’94 state security apparatus did not seem up to the task. Nevertheless Jose is Secretary for Life, joining Kim Jong Il, Bashir al-Assad and Ayatollah Ali Khameni in the club of leaders with lifetime tenures. Yes, Jose is in a club with some disturbing characters. (Note: Though Jose bets Kim and Assad don’t have to plan their class reunions. Khameni might though, Jose isn’t sure what goes into the job of being Supreme Leased of a country.)

Jose’s hope had always been that he would never get the call. Jose liked the Class President for Life and other officers fine, but they were not folks he hung out with in high school, much less now, so he figured the risk was minimal. Moreover, Jose’s poor effort in setting up the Spirit Week Semi-Formal Dance his senior year had established him as a poor team player and general malcontent. These factors gave Jose some room to relax, and yet the worry persisted.

When the five year reunion came and went in 1999 without Jose receiving anything more than an invitation, the worry dissipated. The Class President for Life and his friends were clearly going to organize these reunions ad infintium, and Jose was perfectly happy to let them. So Jose relaxed into his life, the black cloud of fear lifted from above him. He got comfortable. He let his guard down. He got caught.

Three months ago, Jose was walking the streets of his neighborhood in Boston’s historic North End, and he ran into the Class President for Life. There were a million things Jose could have done; he did none of them. He could have screamed and ran away. He didn’t. He could have pretended he was someone else. He didn’t. He could have simply collapsed to the ground and then been carted off to safety in an ambulance. He didn’t. Instead, he had a conversation. He choked. Jose talked with the Class President for Life, who it turns out lives two blocks from Jose, about work and the neighborhood, and yes, the reunion.

It was then that the crushing burden fell on Jose’s broad shoulders. The Class President for Life asked him to help…he asked Jose to let his friends know the time, date and location. Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!! THE HORROR!!! THE HORROR!!!

Jose was sucked in and escape was impossible, resistance futile. Jose was forced by circumstance, forced by history, forced by the duties, obligations and responsibilities of his high office to spend one, perhaps two minutes sending emails about the reunion to his friends, none of whom came anyway. And those minutes? Those minutes are gone forever, evaporated into the ether. Could Jose have cured cancer in those minutes? Flown to Mars? Scaled Everest? Eaten lunch? Who knows? That brief shining moment and all of its potential, all of its possibility is gone to the ages, just another victim of the high school reunion.

2. At the reunion Jose was able to accomplish something momentous, however. By virtue of being among the last handful of people still drinking when the bars shut their doors, Jose is prepared to declare himself one of the coolest, if not the coolest kid in high school. It may have taken him until the age of 28, but Jose finally did it!!! Also, Jose suggested starting a fight with the Lexington High School and Wayland High School reunions that were happening right up the street. That’s got to count for something.

3. Jose actually needs to be serious for a moment, and break character.

A few years ago, I learned that one of my classmates, a girl named Elizabeth Porreca had died. I saw the obituary in the Boston Globe. Last night, I learned that she died it a car accident. I didn’t know this girl beyond her name, and to be honest, I'm not even sure I’m spelling in correctly. In a class of 182 people, she was one of the people I knew the least, but it still broke my heart to hear that she was dead. The only thing I remember about her was that at the Halloween dance my senior year, she won the best costume contest by dressing as the Pillsbury Doughboy. It was a really great costume. I don’t know if more than a few of my classmates will ever read this, but I think it’s important that we remember her.

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

11/24/04 KEYS TO THE HOT STOVE

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE HOT STOVE.

1. It’s happening again. It’s all happening again.

That is Jose’s initial reaction to the news that Gape Kapler, "The World’s Most Perfectly Sculpted Jew" is leaving the WORLD CHAMPION RED SOX to play every day center field for the Yomiuri Giants. Jose knows this has been hard for a lot of people. For some, the pain comes from the knowledge that the greatest Red Sox team of all time is officially no more. For the ladies, the pangs are spawned by the knowledge that they will no longer be able to ogle Kapler when the Sox face left handed pitching. For others, the agony originates in the certainty that Kevin Millar is one trade of Kevin Youkilis away from being unable to claim that the team’s pregame drinking is merely saying the Kiddush. These are all good reasons for sadness or even despair, but for Jose it cuts just a little deeper. For Jose it is about abandonment, the loss of dear friends and the pain of childhood.

Jose is one-eighth Japanese and has thus always imagined that he has a special relationship with the Japanese people. (Note: See KEYS TO JAPAN. ) Okay, Jose doesn’t speak their language, he finds some of their food revolting and puts Kabuki in a special category of with Peking Opera and the ABC Prime Time Lineup, but still, he feels a kinship. (Note: Crud, Jose discovered "Lost" last week, and agrees with the critics that it is fantastic, making the previous joke invalid. Please substitute "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" for the "ABC Prime Time Lineup." Okay. That’s better.)

As a child, Jose’s affinity for the Japanese largely expressed itself in his eagerness to befriend Japanese children who lived in his neighborhood. Due to Belmont’s proximity to Harvard, there were always a few Japanese families living in the neighborhood for one year while the father went to Harvard. Each year Jose would befriend a Japanese boy his age, and each summer the boy would move back to Japan with his family. Jose slowly began to find Japan to be a viscous tease, constantly supplying him with friends and then stealing them away.

It was hard when Jose’s Japanese friends would desert him for the lure of Shinto shrines Godzilla movies, and their entire families, but Jose could understand that they were simply going home. What took Jose by surprise was when his friend Brad, who could not be any less Japanese, took off with his family to live in Japan immediately following fifth grade. Jose should have seen it coming; after all, Brad’s family had lived in Japan before, but the idea that a white guy, a really, really white guy, would ditch Jose to live in Japan was too much. Jose began to suspect that all of is friends would move to Japan before too long. There would be entire villages consisting of Jose’s old friends and their families. They would even have their own golf club. (Note: Jose accidentally typed "golf club" as "Gold Club," before he edited. The idea of all of Jose’s friends having their own Gold Club was much, much funnier.)

Until two days ago, Jose has basically gone a good 18 years without a friend ditching him to move to Japan, so he had grown accustomed to his friends not fleeing to the land of the rising sun. (Note: Okay, his friend Mark moved to Japan, but he’d already ditched Jose to live in New York, San Francisco and London, so no big surprise.) Now this. Now Japan steals something else from Jose.

Jose knows what you’re thinking. You’re thinking "Jose, did you even know Gabe Kapler?"

Well, no, Jose didn’t know Gabe Kapler, Gabe Kapler was not Jose’s friend in the traditional sense of someone Jose knew personally and went for beers with. Jose was not at Kapler’s Bar mitzvah or wedding, though Kapler did wave to Jose’s cousin as a wedding present from Jose. But Kapler was much more than a friend, he was a talented defensive outfielder who hit .279 for the Sox and hit 10 home runs and 56 RBI in 204 games with the Sox. He was a baserunner with lighting speed but no conception of how to steal a base. He may be easily replaced, but he will not be easily forgotten. (Note: The Melendezette had lived in Japan but is fairly emphatic about not moving back, so Jose is betting that he’s safe on that one, of course, if Gabe Kapler can live, one never knows.)

So Jose’s ambivalence towards Japan returns. Of course, if the Orix Blue Wave would only take BK Kim’s contract that ambivalence could easily transform into friendly good cheer. (Additional Note: But it the meantime Jose shares this anecdote from his friend Mark, who lives in Yokohama. “The Power Rangers were fighting some sort of bi-pedal scorpion type creature rampaging around my school the other day. It was kind of awkward, but I figured this was a chance in a lifetime and she was really cute, so I tried to hit on the yellow ranger. Unfortunately she was, literally, tied up at the moment (with some sort of web-like strings) and we only briefly had a chance to chat before she had to go back to work. Maybe next time – the Power Rangers actually do a lot of battling with monsters around my school. You'd think it would be inconvenient, but...”) Maybe Jose should cut Japan some slack. Any country where an American guy can actually hit on a female power ranger can’t be all bad. Also, what are the odds that Gabe Kapler becomes a Power Ranger in his spare time? That seems like a pretty good fit.


2. Despite receiving a two year $26 million offer from the WORLD CHAMPION RED SOX, Pedro Martinez is still complaining about respect. Now everyone assumes that for Pedro respect means money – not an unreasonable assumption, but is it really correct? Respect can be shown in the form of cars, boats and shiny trinkets. It can also be shown in the form of securities. What about intellectual property? Couldn’t that be a form of respect? Perhaps Tom Werner could give Pedro the rights to "That 80s Show" as a sign of respect. Some might argue that would be a sign of disrespect, but Jose disagrees. Giving Pedro the rights to "That 80s show would say, "Pedro, not only are you a great pitcher, I believe you are so smart that you can save even this fatally flawed concept."

But maybe Pedro isn’t referring to these sorts of things when he speaks of respect. Maybe he really is like the recalcitrant teenager he has so often been compared to. And maybe like all teenagers (Note: By which Jose means none) what he really wants is the Sox to show him that they respect or love him enough to set limits. Maybe, just maybe, all Pedro is looking for is for John Henry to give him a big hug and say "Pedro, I respect you, but you need to get a haircut, show up on time and straighten up and fly right."

On the other hand, maybe they should just give him the rights to "The Cosby Show."

3. The Red Sox shook up their minor league organization this week by promoting Ron Johnson from manager of the Double A Portland Sea Dogs Manager to manager of the Triple A Pawtucket Red Sox. Johnson will be replaced in Portland by Todd Claus. Claus is expected to assume his duties after he completes his current job delivering toys to Christian children worldwide on December 25. It is also possible that Claus will wait until after January 6, Orthodox Christmas, to assume his new duties.

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

11/22/04 KEYS TO THE PATRIOTS GAME

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

1. Football has long been presented as a metaphor for war, with its formations, aerial bombardments and ground assaults. (Note: Thank you George Carlin. See Jose will never get caught plagiarizing from Carlin a la Mike Barnacle. If Jose ever gets caught plagiarizing, it will be stealing from someone big, like Dostoyevsky or possibly Melville. But get caught plagiarizing a comedian, even a great one? Jose would prefer not to.) So if football is like war, but without the death, pillage and shattered families what is the best analogy for this Patriots team? (Note: Okay, football has shattered families.)

Bruised, bloodied and broken, their strongest defenders shattered by injury, the Patriots have miraculously persisted and continued to win. Jose thinks one must go all the way back into ancient history for the right analogy and reflect on the story of Hanukah. Hanukah is actually a war story. The holiday commemorates the victory of a group of Jews led by Judah Maccabe (Note: Literally Judah the Hammer) over the Syrians who had occupied the Temple in Jerusalem and built a statue of Zeus there. (Note: Zeus the Greek God, not Zeus the character from the Hulk Hogan vehicle “No Holds Barred.”) Similarly, the Kansas City Chiefs have defiled our Temple by building a statue of Len Dawson in it.

What?

We don’t have a Temple?

Well, where do we sacrifice livestock to God then?

“We’re not Raiders fans, we don’t kill live animals at football games,” you say?

Well, then. Okay, maybe the battle itself is a bad analogy, but what happened afterward is a better analogy. In order to purify the Temple, the Jews needed to burn ritually purified olive oil continuously, but they only had enough oil for one day and pressing new oil would take eight days. Miraculously, the miniscule amount of oil lasted for eight days, long enough for new oil to be pressed and sanctified.


Why is this a good analogy? Well, having success in the NFL with Randall Gay and Asante Samuel (Note: Or Earthwind Moreland) as your cornerbacks is also a miracle. Maybe it isn’t a miracle like, say, walking on water or parting the Red Sea, but it is of about the same magnitude as one day’s worth of oil lasting for about eight days. (Note: On the other hand winning in the NFL with Eric Warfield and William Bartee of the Chiefs as your corners is the equivalent of parting the Red Sea, and Jose does not expect the Red Sea to divide in two this evening at 9 PM EST.)

Wait…you have something else to say? You want to say that this is also a really stupid analogy and has almost nothing to do with war? That the first siege of Vienna is a far better analogy?

Hmmm…well, yes that may be true, Jose supposes, but now Jose has introduced a story that will allow him to refer to hard hitting Patriots safety as Rodney Harrison as Rodney Maccabe or Rodney the Hammer from now on. (Note: Jose wishes he’d thought about this during baseball season. Wouldn’t Manny Maccabe have been a solid nickname?) And isn’t that really what the holiday season is all about?

2. As for the Chiefs, Jose would like to say that their defensive line is analogous to the famed Maginot line of interwar France, a mighty defensive line that’s only weakness was that it could be easily circumvented by column after column after column of German panzers. Of course this analogy is also inapt, as it is just as easy to run through the Chiefs’ defensive line as it is to run around it.

3. Jose would love to get Chiefs wide receiver Dante Hall, mediocre second baseman Homer Bush, former Million Dollar Man Ted Dibiase valet Virgil and free agent pitcher Eric Milton together in a room and just listen to them talk about epic poetry.

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

11/18/04 KEYS TO WORK

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO WORK.

In some ways, it is very odd that Jose Melendez would sit down and write KEYS about work. For starters, Jose doesn’t particularly like to work. There are some people who don’t know what they would do if they retired or can’t imagine a life where they don’t have to get up each day and go somewhere. Jose is not one of those people. No, Jose can very easily imagine himself living a life of quiet leisure a book in one hand, a Manhattan in the other, the television on and the radio blaring. Yes, Jose would interrupt his leisure time only long enough to pound out the day’s KEYS, to feed the ravenous Internet beast.

Of course, this is not a life Jose has, nor is it a life he is every likely to have. Jose works. Actually, Jose works a lot. In fact, a more likely scenario is that Jose will work until he’s in his 80s not because he is loves to work, but because he is lousy with money. (Note: Actually, Jose knows how not to spend money, and that’s probably the hard part. He just can’t figure out what to do with the money he saves. For now, he keeps it buried near the Kosciuszko statue in the public garden, but the interest rate on buried money is low, and the squirrels keep making withdrawals.) And it’s not that Jose hates his job, he likes it just fine. It is just that Jose doesn’t believe we were put on this Earth to write memos, hold meetings and wolf down our crappy Fresh City lunches during a seminar. (Note: In editing, yes Jose does edit, sort of, he noticed that this KEYS is sort of reading like Dilbert without the amusing pictures or witty dialogue. That’s just great.) Clearly, the human animal was made to sit around reading comic books, watching professional wrestling and complaining about (Correction: celebrating…WOLRD CHAMPS!!! Wooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!) the Boston Red Sox.

It is also odd that Jose would choose to write about work since he is in the business of work. KEYS is supposed to be an escape from reality, a sort of verbal Cubism, (Note: Or Pointilism..no, wait…maybe Dadaism) mocking and disfiguring the ennui of daily life, not a commentary on daily life. Whatever.

Every day Jose talks to people about how we as a society can do a better job preparing people for work (Note: More money for Jose is a good start), and he has learned one very important thing – a huge number of people in this country have a really terrible job or even worse really terrible jobs, for instance, migrant farm worker, janitor, Wal Mart greeter and General Manager of the New York Yankees. Therefore, Jose should stop complaining, or at least complain in a foreign language so fewer people can understand his griping. Arbeit hat Jose nicht gut gefallen!!! (Note: Actually, when Jose was a PR guy, a job he truly hated after a while, he used to keep the lyrics to the old labor song “Dark as the Dungeon” up in his cube, so he could always be thankful that he wasn’t working in the mines. Of course, on really bad days, Jose used to fantasize about how awesome it would be to work in the mines and how much cooler it would be to have black lung disease than to tell yet another reporter about how wonderful Gigantor Pharmaceutical is.)

As Jose thought about writing about work, he received some advice from a friend who runs an Internet marketing company (Note: This guy will tell you at length how wonderful pop up ads are. Really. But he cannot explain why some pro wrestling sites have pop ups advocating for Saudi Arabian tourism. Jose would really like no know; it just seems like really bad targeting. Do the guys wearing Austin 3:16 shirts buy a lot of plane tickets to Riyadh?)

He said, “Jose, if you want your blog to take off, just bad mouth your employer. That always works.”

But, Jose can’t do it. He likes the organization he works for, they treat him well, they pay him money that keeps him in Red Sox tickets. So Jose will just have to settle for a lightly read blog that does not get him fired.

Which finally brings us to the end of the preamble to today’s KEYS. Jose has only been in the workforce for seven years, but he’s worked quite a few different kinds of jobs: stone mason, freemason, Anthony Mason. But he just seems to get bored after 18 months or so and needs to move on. Even at the job he stayed at for four years, he took a nine month leave of absence to run around Europe (Note: And sit around the house playing Madden 2001. It was 2003 at the time, but what do you want, he was unemployed.) Already, Jose has worked in three different sectors public (government), private (corporate) and non-profit (both political campaigns and true non-profits). Jose does not wish to discuss the relative merits of each sector. No, that would be most unJoselike. Instead, Jose would like to discuss the huge glaring liability of each sector. Jose believes that each sector carries one great plague, and anyone considering a change of career would do well to consider how well they can manage the plague. (Note: Or if they are the plague.)

1. Public/Government – Jose spent about 18 months working at the State House of a major northeastern state that is home to the current WORLD CHAMPIONS OF BASEBALL as a legislative aide. Jose’s boss was a wonderful human being and a serious and energetic legislator, but serious and energetic legislators were a distinct minority, a large minority, but a minority nonetheless. The plague of public service, as you might have guessed, is the hack, that worker, be he elected, appointed or a patronage hire, who simply does nothing, or nearly as bad does something, but slowly and at great expense. Jose knew one committee chairman in is time at the State House who kept hiring people to do the jobs that his existing staffers weren’t doing. He didn’t get rid of the old staffers, he just kept adding new ones. By the end there was one competent aide and about 20 hacks. Jose has no evidence, but it was rumored that there was one staffer for this legislator who spent most of his time out of the country, showing up just a few days a month in order to sit in the back of the office and draw semi-pornographic charicatures of his boss. It’s sort of sad, because government, to Jose’s mind, also attracts the smartest, most dedicated and most selfless people in the world. But the world’s most brilliant, efficient public servant just can’t compete for a space in the electorate’s imagination with the guy who draws dirty political comics two days a month in the back office.

2. Private/Corporate -- Well, these are the guys who are supposed to have their act together, the ruthless efficiency of the market and all. That’s sort of true, Jose supposes, but let’s not pretend that there is no such thing as corporate patronage. At the same time, hacks are not the problem in corporate settings that they are in government. No, the plague of corporate America are those folks who are driven only by money, nothing else, not pride in a job well done, not building a company, not winning the Stanley Cup, nothing. These are the people who do their job only for the immediate financial benefits and would leave tomorrow (Note: Or sell you out) for one dollar more. (Note: Do you hear that Scott Boras? Jose has your number. By the way, if Scott Boras is a profit seeker does that make Ramiro Mendoza a hack? Mendoza did just sit there, doing nothing, collecting a check. )

The key to dealing with a corporate setting, of course, is to assume that everyone is just looking to put one more dollar in his pocket in all circumstances and when making all decisions. Jose knows it sounds cold and calculating, but it really does help. If one never makes the mistake of assuming he is anything more than a number on a spreadsheet with a dollar sign next to it, one is never hurt or surprised. Actually, this is why Jose’s favorite people in any corporation are the accountants. The accountants always know it is only about the money, and they don’t try to pretend it is about anything else. Jose appreciates that kind of honesty. They also tend to run office football/final four pools efficiently.

Corporate Human Resources people, on the other hand, one has to watch out for. Like the accountants, they know it is all about the money, but unlike the accounts, they will never admit it. They will try to tell you that the company cars about the personal growth of its employees, their health, their families, blah, blah, blah. It is possible that a company may care about those things, but only to the extent that it makes workers more productive and therefore more profitable. Some HR people even stop remembering that it is all about the money and start thinking that their job really is to help employees. A tip to HR people out there – cognitive dissonance is powerful, but it is seldom the key to career advancement. (Note: Wait, cognitive dissonance is what allowed Jose to survive and thrive in four years as a PR person…now Jose is having cognitive dissonance about what he just wrote.) (Additional note: Jose should add that there are some wonderful people in corporate PR, and most non-profit HR people are actually quality people, but they are the exceptions that prove the rule.)

3. Non-profit – Jose lumped political in with non-profit because political campaigns have much more in common with non-profits (low pay, bad office space, crummy benefits) than government jobs themselves. Most importantly, they share the same plague –weirdoes. Jose is not really sure why this is. He assumes it is because both sectors tend to rely on volunteers. Volunteers tend to bypass all of the screening that employees face because, well, they work for free. Also, non-profits, as one might expect, attract some tremendously self-righteous folks, who have contempt for actual for-profit work. Jose always thought this was stupid. After all it’s mostly for profit companies produce things we need like houses, telephones, and WORLD SERIES CHAMPIONSHIPS!!! (Note: Of course Jose’s own field, public relations, is completely unnecessary; it is work that does NOT need to be done. More often than not, the entire point of corporate public relations is to help companies look like they are doing the right thing while they continue to do the wrong thing.)

Actually, Jose’s first job was on a political campaign working as a scheduler, and he hated it more than he has ever hated anything in this world. Maybe he hates Hitler more, but not by much. Every day, Jose would leave the office lamenting the fact that he needed to return in just 13 hours. But, it wasn’t the weirdoes. The campaign had some weirdoes, but they were quite likable. He just hated the job. You see, when one is the scheduler for a campaign, everything is your fault. If you don’t budget for traffic and the candidate arrives late, that is your fault. If you do budget for traffic and the roads are clear so the candidate arrives early, that’s your fault too. And if the candidate arrives at an event right on time? Well, you must have done something wrong anyway. Jose hated it so much that the highlight was his daily trip to the dumpster to get rid of the office trash. It was there that Jose made one of the most important discoveries of his life. If you are at your job making copies and the best office fantasy you can come up with is about how awesome it would be to be making copies for some other employer, it’s time to change jobs.

But today Jose is lucky. The non-profit he works for is run in a highly professional manner that seems to largely fight off the plague of weirdoes, and he seldom dreams of making copies. (Note: See Jose isn’t going to bad mouth his job just to become famous.)

On a final note about plagues, did you know that if you go to the actual Hebrew book of Exodus and look at the plagues of Egypt there is nothing in there about cattle disease, hail or boils? Nope, in Hebrew it speaks of hacks, profit seekers and weirdoes. Seriously. You can check on it just as soon as you learn ancient Hebrew.

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

11/14/04 KEYS TO THE PATRIOTS GAME

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

This is an experiment. In the great tradition of Socrates and Gallileo, Darwin and Timothy Leary, Jose is going to try something different, unknown and potentially dangerous. Yes, he is going to try to write a KEYS for a football game.

To many of Jose’s fans this may not seem like a particularly big deal.

"You’ll just right three sort of funny things about the Patriots instead of the Red Sox. No big whoop," you may be thinking.

But it is a big whoop, indeed. While Jose has a vast knowledge of things that allow him to appear knowledgeable about baseball (Note: As distinct from a vast knowledge of baseball itself), he has no such granary of information for football. For instance, if Jose was struggling in writing a Red Sox KEYS, he could also say something like "Cesar Crespo is such a bad hitter, he makes Jose long for the golden days of Luis Rivera." Not terribly funny, but it will resonate with a certain crowd. (Note: You.) But what is the equivalent for the Patriots? "Dante Scarnecchia is such a bad coach, he makes Jose long for the golden days of Dante Scarnecchia?" See? Jose may be playing way out of his depth here.

But Jose vowed to experiment and experiment he shall. And since Jose believes in science, he will use the scientific method. (Note: Jose believes that the KEYS were created by the interaction of molecules that became cells that evolved over millennia into Jose Melendez. He does not believe that the KEYS were written on stone tablets by God. Jose has looked around his apartment and can’t find any stone tablets, so if he ever had them, he’s long since forgotten where they are. Though Jose has heard that at the end of the original Ten Commandments it reads "I’m Yaweh and those are my KEYS TO LIFE ON EARTH.) First, Jose hypothesizes that a football KEYS will be substandard. Second, he will write a football KEYS in order to test said hypothesis. Third, Jose will evaluate whether the football KEYS really were lousy. Fourth, Jose will publish the results in Science or possibly The Lancet and allow other scientists to try and duplicate his results. Finally, Jose will wait for Gregg Easterbrook a.k.a. Tuesday Morning Quarterback to sue him for writing about football in the third person.

1. Could we arrange for Bills Linebacker London Fletcher to get married to Paris Hilton? Wouldn’t that be kind of funny, at least with the names? Sydney Moncrief could officiate, Sofia Lauren could be the flower girl and Bonn Scott could be the ring bearer. (Note: Yes, Jose knows Bonn Scott is dead, but Bonn isn’t the capital of Germany anymore either, is it?) And ushers? How about the legendary Bucharest Jones and Llubjiana Smith.

2. Everyone was so impressed last week when Patriots wide receiver Troy Brown played cornerback, linebacker Mike Vrabel played tight end and kicker Adam Vinatieri threw (Note: Correction) a touchdown pass. The three were lauded for their willingness to play out of position for the good of the team, and they should be. (Note: Actually, Viantieri shouldn’t be, as he was playing in position, just doing something weird. He should be lauded for doing something weird instead.) But Jose wants to see praise be distributed equally in this town. Manny Ramirez played out of position almost every game last year (left field rather than DH) and all he got for it was sh*t. (Note: Just kidding, we love you Manny and your slightly below average, yet periodically huge play in left field.)

3. Jose went to the big shopping center in Everrett with the Melendezette this afternoon in order to return an air filter to Bed, Bath and Beyond; buy a thermocouple for his heater at Home Despot and convince the Melendezette not to buy a pet fish at "Animals for Sale" or whatever that pet store is called. The shopping center was jam packed; traffic was backed up for a good ¼ mile just to get into the parking lot.

"What does this have to do with the Patriots?" you may be asking. Well, Jose thought about why there was such a terrible backup, and it occurred to him that every football loving man in Eastern Massachusetts was being dragged out for Sunday errands for the first time since the week three bye. This is unfortunate. Since next week is a Monday night game, we really should have worked out some kind of lottery to determine who would run errands this Sunday and who will run them next Sunday, you know, just to control traffic.

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

11/10/04 KEYS TO THE HOT STOVE

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE HOT STOVE.

Jose has tried writing about politics, and it’s okay. He’s written about travel; it’s not bad. As he struggles to adjust to writing KEYS without daily Red Sox games to serve as muse, he’s been asking his friends and family for ideas, and boy have the ideas come. Sam Melendez suggested KEYS TO FARTING and the Melendezette offered KEYS TO THE PROPER USE OF LEMON JUICE IN COOKING. These are both fine ideas, but somehow they fail to truly inspire Jose. No, it’s baseball Jose loves, and baseball that drives him, and thus today, Jose returns the national pastime (Note: And more importantly Jose’s pastime) to its rightful place in the KEYS.

1. Scott Boras is so cool. Jose just thinks that his insane demands are awesome. He’s like a super villain taking to the airwaves to demand some insane ransom. The only problem is that unlike in the comic books, some crazed owner will actually pay the ransom. Would the comic book President ever give Lex Luthor $10 million per year for five years with a no trade clause? Hell, no…He’d let Superman work it out (Note: did Jose really just reference DC Comics? Jose has purchased about 5,000 Marvel comics since his last DC Comic, man is Jose being disloyal right now.) But this is not a comic book and in the real world, the super villain seems to win far too often.

But to Boras it isn’t evil. (Note: At least Jose imagines that Boras doesn’t sit in his office cackling about his evil plans. But maybe he does?) No, Boras calls it negotiating. Jose doesn’t know too much about negotiating, but most of what he knows come from a popular little book called "Getting to Yes." "Getting to Yes" talks a lot about making "win-win" scenarios in negotiations. Jose suspects that Boras shares the same approach to "win-win" negotiating as a union guy Jose knows who said "To a company. win-win means I win twice, and you lose twice."

Boras does deserve his reputation for getting absolute top dollar for his clients, but boy it sure looks like he secures that top dollar at the expense of everything that makes life worth living. As Jose recalls from his one semester of micoreconomics, there exists a concept called "utilities," the idea that there are units of pleasure or enjoyment that one can take from certain activities or experience, and that those units must be balanced against money and other values. Jose is pretty sure that for Boras, the only source of utilities is money. To him, a dollar is worth a dollar, and everything that is not a dollar is worth zero dollars. Time with family? Worth zero. Playing in a great baseball town? Worth zero. Winning games? Zeeeerrrooooo. A legacy? Well, that’s worth…let’s see…one, two, three…nope, still zero. His philosophy appears to be – if it ain’t worth a dollar, it ain’t worth sh*t.

We all know Boras got ARod a huge contract that put him in a setting where he was completely miserable. What Jose wonders is, how miserable a situation would Boras put one of his clients in order to get the maximum contract? If the Nippon Ham Fighters offered Varitek $11 million per year for six years, would Boras get him to sign there? What if an eccentric Dominican millionaire (Note: Pedro?) offered him $12 million a year to play on his Dominican League team? Better yet, what if an eccentric billionaire who loves to pitch for fun offered Varitek $15 million per year for seven years to just be his personal backyard catcher? Boras would pressure Varitek to take it right? If the billionaire threw knuckleballs would he need to pay more?

2. And then there is the matter of Pedro’s contract. Jose, of course, saw the offer scrolling across the bottom of a TV screen on Sunday and became convinced that the Red Sox had signed Pedro to the 2 year $13 million per year plus a club option deal. But, he wasn’t completely sure, so he and his brother Sam put on the radio while they were driving to Walden Pond in order to confirm Jose’s suspicion. The lead story was the Patriots.

"I don’t think they signed him," said Sam.

"No, no," replied Jose. "They’re just giving the Patriots their due by mentioning them first on the Sports flash." Then they gave Celtics news.

"See, they didn’t sign him," said Sam.

"Umm…they could just be waiting until after the break," said Jose. Then the announcer moved on to news that BC Football would be ranked number 21 in the country.

"Okay," Jose conceded, "It looks like they didn’t even resign Sandy Martinez today, much less Pedro Martinez."

So that presents the question of the day: Are the Red Sox such a big story today that even resigning Sandy Martinez would beat out BC Football as a headline? Jose says yes. Of course, Jose also thinks signing Senator Elect Mel Martinez would and should beat out BC Football.

3. There has been a tremendous amount of publicity given to Curt Euro’s toughness after he used 12 million dollar man technology to battle through a jellied ankle and pitch brilliantly in game 6 of the ALCS and game 2 of the World Series. While some lunatics had doubted his toughness and claimed he was exaggerating, for instance that woman at the Baltimore Sun who Jose refuses to name (Note: Or who Jose can’t remember the name of), Jose had never doubted it…until today.

According to the Herald, Euro had three hours of surgery to repair the sheath around his ankle tendon and will now be resting the ankle for one month and then undergoing 4-6 weeks of rehab. Three hours of surgery, sounds pretty bad doesn’t it? Well, at least until you consider the fact that Celtics swingman Paul Pierce just had SEVEN hours of surgery was back the NEXT DAY and hit the GAME WINNING SHOT. If Curt Euro was a real tough guy he’d be starting in the Dominican winter league or something tomorrow and throwing a one hitter.

I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE HOT STOVE.

11/8/04 KEYS TO THE ELECTION AFTERMATH

It’s time for Jose Melendez’s KEYS TO THE ELECTION AFTERMATH.

1. Jose has been thinking about what to write in this space for days now. Jose had a plan for what he was going to write. He was going to write about how John Kerry’s victory had made Boston Winnerstown, USA, about how Boston was home to The Super Bowl Champions, World Series Champions and President of the United States of America. Jose was going to guarantee that the New England Revolution would take the coveted MLS Cup and lament the fact that only the second place finish of Boston Rob in Survivor All-Stars had kept us from sweeping every competition in the country. (Note: And perhaps Jose would have mentioned that by marrying Amber, the winner, Rob had cleverly hedged his bets…winning by losing.)

But that set of KEYS will never be written. Nor will Jose write one of those woeful self-pitying pieces about how the Kerry defeat was a rejection of the entire region. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, Jose doesn’t really care. We conquered the rest of the country in both baseball and football; they don’t have to like us—they need only fear and envy us. So Jose will not be writing victory KEYS, nor will he write self pity KEYS. Instead, Jose is writing these KEYS…these right here.

Jose though hard about writing these KEYS at about 5 AM the morning after the election when a certain nameless right wing propaganda organ called Ohio, and thus the election, for Bush. Jose had gone to bed at about 12:30 fearing the worst and hoping for, well maybe not the best, that seemed unrealistic, maybe hoping for a long drawn out legal battle. He woke up at 5 AM, and saw the sad news. He really did think about writing right then and there, but he delayed. He thought about writing after Kerry conceded too, but again he delayed. Jose delayed because frankly what he was feeling at the moment was not funny, and certainly unlikely to appeal to Jose’s many readers who have political views quite different from his own. (Note: Libertarians, Republicans, Greens, Stalinists, neo-Stalinists, post neo-Stalinists, etc.)

Jose could have written about how the country had voted for increased elderly poverty, for tax cuts for billionaires, for poison in the air, for the persecution of gays and the rollback of women’s rights. Yes, Jose could have written about any of that, but he didn’t, because it is simply not funny. (Note: Maybe air pollution is a little funny if the pollutants have silly, rhyming names like chlorofluorocarbons. Elderly poverty, by contrast, is rarely funny.) And as a liberal all Jose has left is funny. It’s not that President Bush is some buffoon who is an easy subject of fun (Note: He may or may not be said buffoon, but that is not the point). Rather, since the Republicans have seized the presidency, the Senate, the House, the Supreme Court and most governorships, all liberals are left with his humor. That and the Governor’s Office in New Hampshire. Whooppee!!!
The simple fact is that impotence, both political and sexual is the mother (Note: Or would impotence be father? Or is it just a completely inapt metaphor?) of all humor. Why are there so many Viagra jokes? Impotence. Why does Poland possess the world’s greatest store of Russian jokes? Impotence, of the political variety. When one is completely powerless beneath the thumb of a political oppressor, jokes must often substitute for guns. (Note: An example from Jose’s father’s travels in Poland is "As we drink our Vodka, let me honor it with a traditional Polish toast…Here’s to the Russian Navy…Bottoms Up!!!) (Additional note for Jose’s many Russian readers: You guys are great sports. And of course your Navy would not build the bottom or "hull" of a boat on the top or "deck." Jose both saw and read "Hunt for Red October," and he knows you guys are badass.)

So Jose will refrain from vicious political attacks about the Republicans’ cronyism, hatred of the poor and fiscal irresponsibility. Instead, he will stick to lighthearted humor about the Republicans cronyism, hatred of the poor and fiscal irresponsibility. Also more jokes about the fact that the President and Vice President and named "Dick" and "Bush" respectively, those have a certain quiet, dignified causticity. But seriously, you Republicans won fair and square (Note: If viciously), and you are great sports. Now please don’t tap Jose’s phone.

2. There has been a lot of talk about whether President Bush’s 51% tally in the popular vote constitutes a "mandate." Everywhere Jose turns he hears people asking "Did President Bush win a mandate?" "Does President Bush now have the mandate that he lacked four years ago?" Frankly, Jose is a little confused. Why does President Bush want a man date? Jose was almost sure that Bush won all of those "moral values" voters by campaigning explicitly against homosexuality.

3. So let’s see, George W. Bush got elected in 2000 (Note: Sort of) running against peace and prosperity. Then in 2004, he got reelected running on war and economic stagnation. So what does this mean? The way Jose sees it, if this trend continues, by 2008 we’ll be at war with France, China and Freedonia and using box tops from Cookie Crunch Cereal as our official currency and George W. Bush will be elected President for Life with 115% of the vote. In fairness, since the Democrats don’t seem to be able to win by presiding over piece and prosperity or opposing war and economic stagnation, it seems likely that if a Democratic President were to usher in world peace and give every new baby a Rolex and a case of 18 year old scotch, he would still lose in the electoral college. As best, Jose can tell, we Democrats are simply not that good at this whole "running for office thing."

(Note: So those are Jose’s election KEYS. They’re over with now, and Jose is glad. Jose needed to write on the subject, but at heart he is truly a uniter and not a divider, particularly not a long divider, so look forward to tripartite commentary in this space on unifying subjects like the designated hitter, arbitration and the Rule V draft.) (Additional Note: If President Bush proposes something called the "Rule V draft" in Congress, don’t be fooled. It will have nothing to do with minor league prospects.)

I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE ELECTION AFTERMATH.

KEYS TO THE ELECTION

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

1. Jose really wasn’t planning on doing this. He doesn’t have time, he doesn’t want to alienate his dozens of fans by getting too political, but you the people demanded it, and let it never be said that Jose doesn’t know which way the wind is blowing.

Had Jose written this last night, they would be very different KEYS, but since then, Jose has been subjected to seemingly scores of exit polls each slightly different. This one has Kerry up three in Florida. This one over here has Bush up one. And that one over there? That one has Adlai Stevenson elected president in 1952.

Yes, the exit polls look good for Kerry so far, but remember exit polls are a lot like exit wounds. They’re both messy and hurt like hell. Or was it exit polls are a lot like exit signs? You never know if they’re accurate until it’s too late.

2. Jose is a life long Democrat and has been a Kerry supporter since early in the primary process (Note: Though he jumped to being an Edwards supporter, a Gephardt supporter and a Clark supporter before coming back to Kerry. You have to admire Jose’s sticktuitiveness) and he has always felt that one of the Senator’s best qualities was his judgment. But for the first time today, Jose has seen something to make him doubt that. Apparently Kerry had his election day lunch at The Union Oyster House. He had lunch at a restaurant that peaked 150 years ago and today is an overpriced tourist trap. Not a good sign.

3. There had been much speculation that the Bush team would wrap up the campaign season with some sort of October surprise. What we got was the Bin Laden tape, which presumably had nothing to do with the Bush campaign and didn’t really seem to sway anyone’s vote. Count Jose as disappointed.

Maybe Jose wasn’t expecting Bush to announce that they’d captured Osama, but he was expecting something. Maybe that the Marines had captured Bigfoot in the mountains of Afghanistan, or that they had found proof linking Saddam Hussein to the McKinley assassination or evidence that John Kerry once gave a stick of gum to Ho Chi Min in Paris. Jose was just expecting something. Frankly, Jose continues to believe that Karl Rove is evil, but he is starting to doubt that he is a genius.

(Note: Are you happy now? You got one good KEY and two mediocre to poor ones because Jose felt like he had to do something.) (Additional Note: According to exit polls, Jose is now exiting his office.)

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

KEYS TO THE PARADE

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

1. Let’s see, Jose’s October 30 included losing a nice polar fleece sweater, losing his watch (Note: Though he’s pretty sure he’ll find it) and losing yet another argument with his old arch enemy the demon rum, and yet it still couldn’t have been a better day.

Jose’s office is right along the parade route, and there is a big front conference room with windows overlooking Boylston St., so Jose went in with is brother and the Melendezette and watched the parade from there. Jose’s employer is moving in two weeks, so the timing couldn’t have been better. Jose even put up a "Jose Melendez Salutes the Red Sox" sign. (Note: Jose is such a shameless self-promoter.) The great thing about being in a second story window, aside from being out of the cold and the rain and not having to mingle with the plebians, (Note: But seriously, Jose loves the plebians also the little people and the masses) was that players would look up to read the signs, thus giving Jose the opportunity to actually grab their attention. Easily the highlight of the day was doing "six shooters" with David Ortiz. Jose can safely say that was even better when he had his head personally crushed between the thumb and index finger of the Kids in the Hall’s Mark McKinney at the Berkley Performance center. (Note: If the Herald were to write a story on this the headline would read:

LOCAL MAN: "BEING SHOT BETTER THAN HAVING HEAD CRUSHED"

2. The other highlight was when Jose’s all time favorite Red Sox Tim Wakefield came by. Jose was wearing his Wakefield jersey as usual and got the idea that he should take it off and hold it up to the window so Wake could see that he is appreciated. Jose got Wakefield’s attention, but when Wakefield saw Jose unbuttoning his shirt (Note: Jose had a T-shirt on underneath) he got a little freaked out and looked away. Jose thinks that Wakefield thought that some random guy was going to flash him and got nervous. Needless to say, Jose backed off and left his shirt on.

3. After the parade Jose went to a Halloween party in Cambridge. At the party, a guy Jose knows claimed that the Red Sox World Series victory led him to spontaneous sexual climax later that evening. Jose always viewed himself as a really hard core Red Sox fan, but this has him second guessing himself. Jose loves the Red Sox, as do we all, but this guy, who is straight, well, it seems like he really, really loves the Red Sox.

Actually, the whole thing sort of reminded Jose of a short story he contemplated writing in the darkest days after last year’s ALCS. (Note: Though he didn’t write it, of course. Back in those days, Jose would think of lots of thinks to write, and then not write them. Now with KEYS, Jose usually can’t think of things to write, and yet writes them anyway. The result, of course, is the mediocre product you see before you.) The story was going to be about a masochist who finds that being whipped and beaten no longer gets him off, so he searches for a more intense form of pain to feed his lust. He settles on purchasing a ticket for the game 1 of the 2003 World Series at Fenway that never happened, and then using it along with tapes of game 7 of the ALCS to excite himself. Of course, this story remains unwritten and is now completely moot. Jose does have an idea though. If there’s a Yankees fan who would like to buy the rights from Jose and then write a story about a masochistic Yankee fan who gets off on tickets for the 2004 World Series at Yankee Stadium and video of Dave Roberts’ steal of David Ortiz’s game winning homer, Jose will listen to offers. After all, you Yankees fans are the masochists now. Following a team that hasn’t one the world series since 2000? Jeez…it’s like you people enjoy pain.

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

KEYS TO THE WORLD SERIES

It’s time for Jose Melendez's KEYS TO THE WORLD SERIES.

1. It’s been 40 hours now, and Jose’s hands have finally stopped shaking enough for him to work a keyboard. The anxiety induced tremors that convulsed him from the seventh inning on and the quaking delirium that followed Keith Foulke’s gentle toss to first have finally subsided. (Note: Jose has long maintained that baseball was his substitute for ecstatic religious experience; this proved it. If Jose was a Shaker of Sufi, he wouldn’t need baseball to send him into convulsions.) After all the champagne has been quaffed, the pepper sprayed and the baseball played, now that Bill Buckner is just another jerk, Grady Little is but a genial idiot and John McNamara is just one more incompetent drunk, all Jose is left with is a smile that will not go away. (Note: When Jose was in middle school, Bob Lobel gave a talk to an assembly and said that Bill Buckner was the biggest jerk he’d ever interviewed even before the 86 Series.) It may never go away. It may well be that through comedy and tragedy from this moment on Jose will always have a smile on his face.

“Jose, your house got blown into the ocean by a hurricane, what are you grinning about moron?”

“You know what was great?” Jose would reply. “When the Sox won the World Series in 2004. A house, that’s just a bunch of possessions. But the Red Sox? Those are a bunch of guys Jose lives through vicariously, and that’s something special.”

In these last 40 hours, thousands upon thousands of words have been written on this greatest of all victories. We’ve learned about the Red Sox flight home, Curt Euro’s political beliefs and Megatron’s plans for free agency. (Note: We also learned that on charter flights the cockpit isn’t locked. Can’t say that made Jose feel great.) You’d think there would be nothing left to write, or at least nothing left to read, and yet the words keep coming and Jose cannot get enough. How hungry for words on the Red Sox is Jose? So hungry that he almost got a free copy of the Boston Metro this morning. He didn’t, but he thought about it.

There just cannot be too much of this. Have there been too many words written on World War II? What about on Jesus Christ? Simply put, this is one of the three greatest events in U.S. history rivaled only by the Emancipation Proclamation and Spiderman’s first appearance in Amazing Fantasy #15. From an international perspective, the importance of Wednesday night’s win slightly trails the Enlightenment but surpasses the construction of the Pyramids and the Renaissance.

Seriously, think about how historic this is. FOX had that graphic of all of the things that had happened since the Red Sox had last won the World Series. In the 86 years between championships, penicillin was invented, a polio vaccine created, Vitamin C discovered and women received the right to vote. Which would you choose, any or all of those or the Sox 2004 World Championship? Jose would take the championship too and he says this as someone who is on a penicillin derivative as we speak.

2. There are some unsung heroes of the postseason that deserve a little recognition.

First, to the Sox fan sitting behind Jose in game 3 of the ALCS who kept score perfectly through the entire debacle. Jose doesn’t know your name, but your refusal to give up and obsessive commitment to the game set a model for the Sox. You didn’t give up and neither did they.

Second, to the Melendezette. As you may recall, the Melendezette shaved her legs when the Sox had a three run lead in game 7 of the 2003 ALCS leading to the now completely unimportant loss. She had agreed not to shave them this year. However, in game 3 with the season going down the tubes, she made the decision to shave and it panned out. Had Jose been there, he would have tried to stop her, but he was not, he was at the game. She made the right decision and the Sox did not lose again.

Third to this guy named Frank. As Jose rode home on the T red-faced (Note: Literally. He was wearing face paint) and depressed following game 3 of the ALCS, he ended up chatting about the Sox’s prospects for a comeback with a guy named Frank who he had never met before. Jose expressed the vague hope that if the Sox could somehow win game 4 they might have a chance, but not much more. Jose got off at Haymarket, end of story.

After game 7, Jose went out to see the crowds at Fanueil Hall. When he walked home, he saw a vaguely familiar stranger.

“You’re that guy,” the stranger said.

“What?” said Jose.

“You…you’re that guy,” he repeated.

“Wait…you’re that guy from the T!” Jose exclaimed.

“This is crazy,” said the guy. “I didn’t know you from a bag of *ssholes before we shot the sh*t on the T after game 3. Now I run into you after game 7, and we’ve come back al the way back.

“That is crazy,” said Jose.

“Yeah. Well, I’m probably never going to see you again, but GO SOX!!!”

Okay, Jose doesn’t really know what this guy did to be an unsung hero, but this seems somehow significant.

3. After the sweep was completed, Jose and his brother hit the streets of Boston, wandering from East Cambridge to Fanuiel Hall exchanging high fives, chest bumps and even the occasional awkward hug with strangers along the way. The scene at Fanueil Hall was jubilant but relaxed. Riot police wore huge smiles and guarded the Sam Adams statue as though he might run away at any moment and join the revelry.

The locus of celebration was the one guy who had a boom box and played “Love That Dirty Water” over and over again. Then, when the crowd around him grew too large he would turn off the boom box, slip off to a quieter locale and turn it back on.

After an hour or so, we ran into three of Jose’s brother’s friends and set off for Fenway.

“What are things like at Fenway,” Jose’s brother asked one police officer. “Is it okay to go over there?”

“Go home and relax,” said the officer. “It’s a mess.”

Needless to say we immediately set off for Kenmore Square. (Note: In a pregame news bit, one local reporter interviewed a high ranking police official about crowd control. The officer said something like “We expect crowds to come to Fenway, as it is sort of a shrine, especially for baseball fans.” For whom other than baseball fans is it a shrine? Buffet fans? Architecture students?)

When we finally reached Fenway, all access was sealed off by grumpy looking riot police, but we could get close enough to see the championship banners and to see where one more would be added. This new banner will be a good fit. It will really round out the set.

Jose will spare you the detail of the long, circular route we took to get back without going through clouds of pepper spray. It’s not important, or frankly, interesting. What is important is the reason that the throngs were so jubilant. It wasn’t just that our sports heroes had triumphed or that a long and horrible streak had ended – It was that being World Champions was such a wonderful surprise.

The pundits who have said we will lose interest in the Red Sox now that they have won it all are wrong. We never loved baseball in this town for the championships. No one ever became a Red Sox fan so they could boast or brag or thump their chest. That’s why people become Yankees fans. We are Red Sox fans because it is fun, because it unites us in a common purpose and gives our whole community, the whole of Red Sox nation, a shared experience. Yes, we wanted to win the World Series, we wanted it more than anything else in the world. But it was never the prospect of winning the World Series that made Jose love this team and love the game. Winning the World Series is like eating your birthday cake and discovering a thick wad of $100 bills in the middle of it. It is the spectacular, overwhelming surprise that takes something good, something very good, and makes it something incomparable.

I’m Jose Melendez and those are my KEYS TO THE WORLD SERIES.

From SoSH: Re: 10-27-04 The Beginning Of A New Era(pt.4)

(Sigh) One of the most important days of the year and Blogger.com is down for six hours. But it matters not.

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

1. Well, this is new.

What an odd and extraordinary situation Jose finds himself in. Like all of you, every day Jose looks forward to watching the Boston Red Sox play baseball, and every night Jose goes to bed looking forward to watching the next game. Watching baseball has given Jose so much pleasure, at least when the Sox are good. And when they are bad? Well, then at least the Sox eat hours. Maybe they aren’t great hours, but the Red Sox at least consume them, thereby eliminating the need to put further strain on an already overworked network of family and friends.

Jose wants that to end. Yes, Jose is rooting for the Red Sox season to end today. He didn’t want it to end in 2003 or 2002 or 2001 and backwards and backwards, but he wants it to end now. Mach schnell!!! Post haste!!!

After tonight, Jose does not want to watch the Red Sox again this year. After tonight, he does not want to be astounded by Curt Euro’s grit and toughness; he does not want to marvel at Manny’s sweet swing; he does not want to see David Ortiz spit on his hands or Orlando Cabrerra toss the ball effortlessly to first. For the first time in 18 years, Jose hopes, Jose prays that the Red Sox will not play baseball tomorrow.

Jose also desperately wants this to be the last KEYS TO THE GAME of 2004. KEYS TO THE HOT STOVE, KEYS TO SLOVENIA, KEYS TO A FRAGRANT YET SUBTLE PINOT NOIR, Jose would gladly write them all, but KEYS to another game? The Red Sox have all of their KEYS, now all they need to do is unlock the door (Note: Or possibly bomb through a wall Legend of Zelda style.)

Prior to today’s KEYS Jose has written 90,425 words in the form of KEYS TO THE GAME. That is enough. That should be all. Let us end it here and now. Yes, for the first time Jose looks forward to not watching the Red Sox tomorrow

2. Jose should probably write something that actually has to do with the game, a little analysis, a little match up work. Starting pitching has been the story of this series, so let’s focus on tonight’s starters. The Red Sox have Megatron pitching, ready, poised and full of energon cubes. Of course, this raises the question of what Transformer Cardinals starter Jason Marquis might be? Perhaps Bumblebee the loveable little VW Bug, who has a lot of pluck but is just to small to get the job done. No?

Okay, stop. Hold on. Bring out the writing coach, bring the manager to the mound. It’s time for Jose to be honest here – Jose is gassed. He dropped 1,657 words yesterday, his longest outing ever, and put enormous strain on his shaky left elbow in order to try to pull the Sox through. He doesn’t have much left, and it’s showing. That first KEY…that might work in June, but this is the World Series. And the start of KEY 2? Bumblebee? What the hell is that?

But you know what? Jose can’t surrender the keyboard. He just can’t do it. He’s going to keep bringing it until the manager comes and drags him out. So here goes, let’s see if he can get these last two KEYS up around 97. Then Jose will point skyward, call it a day and rub his ‘fro against a teammate’s. It is on.

Jose had hoped to come up with some clever, nickname for Jason Marquis that would play off of either Marquis de Sade or Marquis de Lafayette. Lafayette, Jose immediately realized, was hopeless. Nothing rhymes with it except possibly “Laugh Riot” and that, ironically, didn’t seem funny. Moreover mentioning a riot seemed extremely distasteful.

And Sade? Well lots of things rhyme with Sade “God,” “Rod,” “Mod,” “Decapod” but none of them seemed to reflect the man who will take the man who will actually take the mound for the Cardinals tonight. Can one connect Jason Marquis to what the American Heritage Dictionary defines as “a cephalopod mollusk, such as a squid or cuttlefish, having ten armlike tentacles?” Actually, yes – he does lack a backbone. But it still seemed like too much of a stretch.

Jose had sort of hoped to find something that would rhyme with Sade and mean “Is so anxiety riddled that he needed to be used as a pinch runner in game 1 to work out the butterflies, and he even screwed that up by falling down on the base paths. So now he is destined to walk five and give up six runs in 2 2/3 innings in the biggest game of his life.” But surprisingly, in a language as versatile as English, there is no word captures that, much less one that rhymes with “Sade.” The only thing that even comes close to capturing it (Note: Not rhyming with it) is “Kevin Brown.”

So Jose will have to settle for French. And as it turns out the French have a word that seems just about perfect. Jose doesn’t speak a word of French, but this term, to Anglophone ears, seems ideal for Jason Marquis – “Inquiétude.” It’s what one gets when “anxiety” is translated by Babelfish, but it seems to Jose that it is so much more. It conveys a sense of unsettledness, a sense of fear, a sense that every pitch might be the mistake that is remembered forever.So tonight’s pitching match up? Megatron versus Le Marquis de Inquiétude. Jose doesn’t know about you, but he’ll take the robot hell bent on destruction.

3. UNO!!! UNO!!! UNO DAMN IT!!! Jose has played a lot of different games in his life time, and sometimes he gets confused about which rules belong to which game, but he is almost sure that baseball is the one where you have to shout UNO when you’re about to go out. Right? If you don’t say “Uno” you have to win two extra games, so UNO!!! UNO!!! UNO!!!

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

From SoSH: Re: 10-26-04 The Beginning of A New Era(pt.3)

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

1. Once there was a city named St. Louis that was among the greatest in the world. It was the host of the 1904 Olympics and the 1904 World’s Fair back when the World’s Fair meant something. (Note: Though apparently in the 94 events only 42 included athletes who were not Americans. Unfortunately for the Cardinals, every World Series game will be contested.)

Once there was a city named St. Louis that stood as the “Gateway to the West,” the gateway to a better life, the gateway to hope and freedom and land and independence.

Once there was a city named St. Louis who’s spirit was so indomitable it was heralded on the side of the most famous aircraft of the day. Yes, Lucky Lindy named his transatlantic steed the “Spirit of St. Louis.”

Once there was a city named St. Louis that was home to a man named Musial who forever redefined what it means to be “The Man.”

Once there was a city named St. Louis where Bob Gibson tormented hitters with his angry gaze and angrier fastball.

Once there was a city named St. Louis, where Marshall Faulk played and Kurt Warner prayed and Super Bowls title seemed like they would stretch to the horizon.

Once there was a city, now it’s done. Brother, now it’s Boston’s time.

Today there is a city named St. Louis where even getting a flight on Olympic Airways is every bit as impossible as holding an Olympic games.

Today there is a city named St. Louis that has an Arch symbolizing its past glory and golden arches representing its present decay.

Today there is a city named St. Louis that is so unremarkable that Akron is stealing its stuff and getting away with it. That’s right. You know that Goodyear Blimp, “The Spirit of Akron?” That’s Akron calling you out St. Louis and what are you going to do about it? Nothing. You’re Akron’s b*tch St. Louis. What do you think Boston would do if Rochester started talking about Rochester Baked Beans or Rochester Scrod? We’d kick their asses, that’s what we’d do.

Today there is a city named St. Louis that is home to a man named Matheny who is a gaping whole in a lineup.

Today there is a city named St. Louis where Matt Morris entices hitters with a frightened gaze and even more frightened fastball.

Today there is a city named St. Louis whose football team yielded 31 points to a punchless Miami offense, and handed the Dolphins their first win.

The city of St. Louis was once so grand that truly it deserved its sainthood. But now? Now the bloom is off the rose, the best days are behind them, and many other cliches. In 1904 the Olympics was originally given to Chicago but was moved to St. Louis by a 14-2 vote. Perhaps some enterprising Midwesterners would consider voting the Cubs St. Louis’ home games this year? Perhaps the Missouri city no longer deserves its sainthood. Yes, from now on Jose will simply call the once great city Louis, or maybe even Lou.

2. Yesterday there was a plea for common sense in the Boston Globe by a certain Amanda E. Ottaway of Boston. It is a letter so important that Jose believes it warrants repeating here.


Jose is a huge believer in freedom of expression. And Ms. Ottaway has every right to say what she did. But let’s break this letter down a bit shall we? Let’s address her specific grievances.

Not everyone loves the Red Sox

AO: “I moved to Boston from Cincinnati in May to start a new job and a new life. I thought Boston was filled with culture and history.

JM: Well, it is, but our fair town can’t possibly be expected to compete with the great meccas of the Midwest like Cincinnati and St. Louis. It’s like comparing Cognac and Fresca, we can’t possibly compete. Also, do you expect that people should sit around the cafes all day talking about the merits of defending Bunker Hill versus Breed’s Hill and the first use of ether? History is wonderful to the extent that it gets state workers paid holidays, but beyond that? (Note: Actually, Jose loves history, but come on.)

AO: “The only thing I have heard about since I got here is the Red Sox. Don't people have anything else to talk about besides that?”

JM: Sure we do. In January we’ll talk mostly about the Patriots. But seriously, even on a Red Sox fan site like SoSH there are outlets for discussing politics, popular culture and the world of computers. And we Bostonians can discuss almost any subject, as long as it is connected to baseball in some way. For instance, in Cincinnati, one might chat about John Kerry’s bid for the White House. In Boston, one can chat about it too, but only by comparing it to Euro Bellhorn’s quest for the Red Sox single season strikeout record. Alternatively, one could debate how the race would be different if Dale Sveum were Kerry’s campaign manager. (Note: How would it be different? Well, Kerry would send a lot more time “out” on the campaign trail, and a lot less time at home. Sveum would keep saying “John go home to Louisburg Square, you need rest, and Kerry would keep ending up out on the trail. Get it? Dale Sveum is a below average third base coach. It’s funny now isn’t it? Also, can we change the name of Louisburg Square to Bostonburg Square for the next week? Just wondering.)

AO: “Not only that, but I am expected to be a fan of the team just because I live here. Forget the fact that I lived somewhere else for more than 30 years, and I'm still fond of that team.”

JM: Ahh…there’s the rub. She’s a Reds fan and is still bitter that her beloved Reds lost the 1975 World Series to the Boston Red…Wait… She has no f’n reason at all.

AO: “I am just so surprised that people around here don't have anything else to do in their lives except talk about and watch baseball. It is really making me hate Boston”

JM: Umm…some of us have jobs, too. And families. Maybe a dog. Jose plays softball, though that kind of proves your point.

AO: “Add to that the fact that I live on Boylston Street in the Back Bay.”

JM: Let’s see at least 30 years old, lives in Back Bay, might this be a disgruntled yuppie? Either that or she is a homeless woman who has seen revelry cut into her panhandling.

AO: “This week has proved to me how completely disrespectful Boston residents are of each other. I've witnessed people screaming, yelling, honking their horns at midnight during the middle of the week. I will be moving once my lease is up.”

JM: The nerve of people celebrating something wondrous that has never happened before. And in the city at that. Peasants.

AO: “Don't people here get the fact that not everyone loves the Red Sox?”

JM: We get it. Some people (Note: you) are jerks. Okay.

AO: “I was never even given the chance to like them. As far as I'm concerned, Go Cardinals!”

JM: We were never even given the chance to like you. As far as we’re concerned, Go Home!

Now having done a point by point rebuttal, Jose would like to address some the broader issues of Ms. Ottaway’s comments by looking at some of her previous writings.

Did you know that in Summer 1989, Ms. Ottaway was living in an apartment just off of Tianenmen Square in Beijing, China and wrote a letter to the Beijing Times-Picayune saying “This week has proved to me how completely disrespectful Beijing students are. I’ve witnessed them screaming, yelling, protesting at midnight during the middle of the week. I wish someone would crush them with armored columns.”

Did you know that mere months later in Fall 1989, Ms. Ottaway was living in an apartment near the Brandenburg Gate in East Berlin and wrote a letter to the Die Berliner Zeit-Picayune saying “Don’t people here get the fact that not everyone loves Democracy? I was never even given the chance to like it. As far as I’m concerned, Go Communists.”

Finally did you know that Ms. Ottaway was living in a Times Square apartment on December 31, 1999 and wrote a letter to the New York Times-Picayune saying “I am expected to be a fan of the New Millennium just because I live in it? Forget the fact that I lived in a different millennium for more than 30 years, and I’m still fond of it.”

Here’s another thing not to like about Bostonians. We put words in your mouth and libel you, but then admit that it is all lies (Note: All of those “letters” are lies), so it’s not technically libel.

3. So the Cardinals’ plan now is to win Game 3 with Jeff Suppan starting against Pedro Martinez? Good God, how are they even in the World Series making moves like that? Jose knows Suppan has been good all year and great in the playoffs, that he was good all of last year, except when he was with the Sox and that he beat Roger Clemens in Game 7. (Note: Who hasn’t?) But seriously? If this idea works, Jose’s sources report that Cardinals Manager Tony LaRussa is planning to start Brian Rose in Game 4 and Tim Vanegmond in Game 5 before returning to Boston and throwing Nate Minchey in Game 6 and Vaughn Eshelman in Game 7. Actually, Jose thinks this is a good plan. They can’t possibly be any worse than fictional characters Woody Williams and Matt Morris.

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

From SoSH: Re: 10-24-04 The Beginning Of A New Era(pt.2)

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

1. Well, the Red Sox have seized a 1-0 lead in the World Series despite playing what some pundits have referred to as a “sloppy game.” Jose isn’t really sure what said pundits mean by “sloppy.” Are they referring to the Red Sox four horrific errors? Are they suggesting that the slovenly Red Sox themselves were even more unkempt than usual? (Note: You know they are called the Red Sox because they are such poor housekeepers that one player once put a red shirt in the laundry with a bunch of white socks dieing them all. Such carelessness.) Or are they suggesting that the Red Sox dugout was overflowing with tobacco juice? Regardless, the Sox overcame this sloppiness to win and position themselves quite nicely with Curt Euro, Pedro and Megatron coming up in the pitching order.

The question on everyone’s mind, of course, as we enter tonight’s game is how will Curt Euro’s amazing bionic ankle hold up? Will it remain strong and steady like the performance of David Ortiz, or crumble like the dramatic Tony Womack? (Note: Jose’s brother’s girlfriend is an Arizona native and Diamondbacks fan, to the extent that such a thing exists. After Womack collapsed last night she commented, “When he was with Arizona, he was always sort of a drama queen.” So let’s connect the dots shall we? Womack muffs a hard grounder that he should have scooped, falls to the ground in anguish, leaves the game, and a ball that was clearly and error is ruled a hit. Everyone got that? Yup, he’s a big a drama queen as Audrey Hepburn. Also, he appears to be playing the Famous Leon in those Budweiser commercials. This was the consensus at the bar Jose watched the game at.)

Jose’s brother has pointed out that Curt’s ankle appears to be held together with Six Million Dollar Man technology (Note: Though Jose’s brother originally called it “Six Dollar Man” technology. Jose cut him a teeny tiny bit of slack though, as the show was on before his brother’s birth.) Does this mean we can give Curt a 50 percent pay cut? (Note: Only kidding Curt. Seriously. You are the 12 million dollar man. Go get ‘em.)

2. Did anyone else notice that last night, in the third inning, after one of the run scoring singles, FOX did a brief cutaway shot to the Red Sox bench and captured something as surprising as it was horrifying. Yes, they captured none other than Derek Lowe awkwardly doing the “Walker Wiggle.” No one Jose was watching with picked this up, but Jose saw it with his own eyes, and as he was the only person there who was not drinking, he will trust his observation over theirs. While Jose was always a big fan of the Walker Wiggle and has missed it since Antoine Walker was traded for Raef F’n LaFrentz, the DLowe/Megatron version was not exactly what Jose was looking for. So the question remains, what in the name of all that is good made Megatron think that it would be a good idea to do the Walker Wiggle. Jose’s been thinking about it and his best guess is that he wasn’t actually doing the Walker Wiggle, rather that he was trying to duplicate the dance move of his pro wrestling namesake D’Lo Brown, who would do a wigglish head bob as he went down the aisle. Let Jose be clear, he is not opposed to Megatron developing some celebratory dance moves; he just thinks they need to fit his personality more appropriately. The most obvious, and probably best choice, would be The Robot.

As long as we are discussing this, Jose thinks we should assign a few other celebratory dance moves to Sox players before we end up watching Umlaut Mueller doing the Macarena in the dugout.

Keith Foulke - Well based on is last name alone it should be some form of square dancing, perhaps the Virginia Reel.

Pedro Martinez - Pedro should start doing the Icky Shuffle after he throws a strike out to end the inning, complete with spiking the baseball. Jose can’t give you a good reason, except that it would be funny.

Manny Ramirez – The seizure dance, that Patriots Wide Receiver Deion Branch’s used in the end zone last year. Manny actually already seemed to be working on this one as he attempted to make plays in the eighth last night, so it shouldn’t be much of a stretch.

Kevin Youkilis and Gabe Kapler – That Jewish wedding dance where they put people on chairs and lift them into the air. It probably has a name, but Jose can’t remember it. Can you imagine them doing that to Terry Eurona? That would be sweet.

Balki Arroyo – Myposian Dance of Joy (Note: Yes, Jose concedes he had been spelling “Mypos” incorrectly all year as “Mepos.”)

Curt Euro – No dancing. Just keep the ankle stable.

Dave Roberts – The Limbo. Don’t ask why, Jose just has a feeling that Roberts is hands down the finest limboer on the team and perhaps in the Majors.

Tim Wakefield –As the last player remaining from the 1995 A.L. East champion team, the Time Warp seems appropriate.

Johnny Damon – Does gradual ascension towards heaven bathed in cone of pure white light count as a dance?

Mike Timlin and Kevin Millar – Texas Two Steps of course.

David Ortiz – The Monster Mash

Jose knows this leaves a few player without preassigned dance moves, but Jose is out of ideas, so we will have to trust them to take care of themselves. Just please don’t do the Walker Wiggle unless you know what you’re doing.


3. Can we start referring to tonight’s Cardinals starter Matt Morris by his initials M&M? Slogan: Melts on the mound not in the stands.

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

From SoSH: Re: 10-23-04 The Beginning Of A New Era

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

First things first. Before we dive into this special World Series edition of KEYS. Jose has some business to attend to. Longtime SoSHer RomeroRomine, who is currently working as a civilian at a military compound in Iraq, asked his brother, who is, by a remarkable coincidence, Jose’s friend Jamie, to request that Jose send along his huzzahs from the Middle East. So from RomeroRomine, "Huzzah to the Red Sox, Huzzah to SoSH. It is on." And from SoSH to RomeroRomine, we all appreciate the work you are doing over there. Be safe.

1. Ladies and gentleman. Hello and welcoooommmmeee to Fenwaaaaayyyyyy Paaaaarrkkkk!!! And now it’s time for the Maaaiiinnnn Eeeeeevvenntt, a battle set for best of seven falls. Introducing first in the gray with red trim. the Best of the Midwest, the Battling Birds, the nine time champeeennss of the woooorrrllllldddd, The St. Louis Cardinals. And their opponents, in the white with red trim, the comeback kids, the band of idiots, the six time champeeeeenns of the wooorrlldd (Note: Damn it, we won 1904 by forfeit) the Boooosssttooonn Reeeeddd Sooooxxxx!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Note: Can we start calling Fenway the Idiot Box? Jose thinks we should.)

That’s right, with apologies to the Simpsons, this ain’t no town series, this ain’t no county series, this ain’t no region series, this ain’t no nation series, this ain’t no continent series, this ain’t no hemisphere series. This is the WORLD SERIES!!!!! And whoever wins it is going to be the champion of the entire world. Will the winner be the champion of Yemen? You bet. Liechtenstein? Sure thing. The Marianas Trench? Uh huh. Even the seas will be under the domain of the winner of this series. Lava men, mole men, morlocks whatever else lives beneath the Earth’s crust, the winner of this series will be the champion of them all.

And the Red Sox have a serious advantage in this series. History suggests that Cardinals manager Tony LaRussa cannot win a World Series without the help of a natural disaster, After all, his superior Oakland teams were swept in 1988 and 1990 by the Dodgers and Reds respectively. His only win came in 1989 in a Series disrupted by the San Francisco earthquake. His problem is that this time his opponent IS the natural disaster. Gary Sheffield told us so.

2. There is broad agreement that the Achilles Heel of this fearsome Cardinals team is its starting pitching, which, to be generous, consists of a bunch of nobodies. But actually, it’ even worse than that. Jose has obtained shocking evidence two of the Cardinals’ four starters may not even technically exist. The Cardinals’ four starters are Woody Williams, Matt Morris, Jason Marquis and Jeff Suppan. Earlier in the year, Chris Carpenter was also a starter, Notice anything odd about that group of five? That’s right, three of the five have first and last names that begin with the same letter. This is the trademark of none other than comic book legend Stan Lee. Think about it. Peter Parker is the Spectacular Spiderman. Reed Richards is Mr. Fantastic. Sue Storm is the Invisible Girl/Woman. Scott Summers is Cyclops. Otto Octavius is Dr. Octopus. Matt Murdoch is Daredevil. Bruce Banner is The Hulk. Curt Connors is the Lizard. Warren Worthington is the Angel/Archangel. You get the point.

Remember the expectations for St. Louis at the beginning of the year? Everyone knew they could hit, but their starting pitching was deeply suspect. As a result everyone picked them to finish third in the N.L. Central. Tony LaRussa is a smart guy. He knew his pitching was suspect, so he hired Stan Lee to create three pitchers to shore up his rotation. They’ve been successful thus far (Note: Except for Carpenter who was effective until he was pulled due to injury/irreparable flaws in his story arc) because opposing hitters have not realized that they do not exist. Hitters keep swinging and missing at pitches that aren’t there. (Note: On the other hand, when hitters do connect with these phantom pitches the word "KAPOW" or "BAM" magically materializes on the field.) So remember, Red Sox hitters, as long as you remember that Woody Williams is not real, that Matt Morris is as fictional as Hello Kitty, they can’t hurt you. Need more proof? Look for the dialogue bubbles around Williams’ during the post game press conference.

What’s that you say? Lot’s of major leaguers have alliterative names? What about Darren Dreifort, Rick Reed, Ugueth Urtain Urbina and even our own Mike Myers? Isn’t that all the more proof? After all, Mike Myers as Bill Simmons always reminds us, is a fictional character from the Halloween films. Ssssssshhhhhh…We don’t want Larry Walker or Jim Edmonds to know.

3. Cardinals fans are widely regarded as among the best in baseball and have been known to travel to road games dressed as Catholic Cardinals. In the spirit of neighborliness and good sportsmanship, Jose would like to offer a warning to Cardinals fans that come to Boston so dressed. Boston has not been so friendly to Cardinals of late. Cardinal Law was driven from the city (Note: And we can only hope these Cardinals will follow his lead). Also, don’t be surprised if you’re accosted by people demanding to know why you are closing their church or turning a blind eye to all manner of abuse. Other than that enjoy the game.

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

10/21 KEYS TO THE ALCS

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

1. There has now been article after article, after article about Curt Euro’s medical condition, the experimental sutures in his foot and his extraordinary game 6 performance in the ALCS. He is being compared favorably to Willis Reed, Larry Bird and Kirk Gibson. And actually, he outdid them all. But there has been another story of injury an anguish overcome because the good of the team demanded it; it is the story of Jose Melendez.

The morning after the Red Sox’s dramatic game 5 victory, Jose awoke with a sharp and intense pain in his left elbow. It was as though someone had struck it with a hammer or possibly a pipe wrench. When he straightened it, it hurt. When he bent it, it hurt. When he did noting, it also hurt. And in the event that anything touched it, it the pain had Jose screaming like A-Rod after a correct call at first base. Over the course of the morning the elbow grew red and swollen. It filled with fluid, became hot to the touch and the pain became more constant and driving.

Jose knew something was wrong, But thankfully he knew what to do, take four Advil and ignore it.
He pounded out the now famous "You are Jon Lieber" KEYS through the pain , and the Sox went on to win game 6 on the strength of Curt Euro’s brilliant effort.

Jose awoke the next morning to even greater pain in the elbow and some evidence that the soreness was spreading. Jose fought through the day again, wrote the KEYS and watched the Red Sox’s greatest win in 86 years. After the KEYS were posted that day, Jose thought about going to the doctor, but determined that the risk that he might be given "medical care" that would stretch into game time was unacceptable. He resolved to gut it out through the night.

Jose knows that the injury affected the KEYS. Twice he used "too" instead of "to" and typos spread like Chicken Pox, but damn it this was the ALCS, and Jose’s team was counting on him. Besides, had Jose not written the second guessing would have been unbelievable. Tony Castrati would have questioned Jose’s heart. Eric Kneel would have questioned his testicular fortitude. "Sixty percent of Jose Melendez is better than 100 percent of anyone else," the critics would say. "If he cared about this team as much as he cares about next year’s contract, he’d be out there."

And so Jose was out there and he delivered. He rejected a preset word count, choosing instead to write until he could write no more eventually working past 1,000 words each day. Frankly, if one looks at the quality of his KEY 3s, he probably should have been yanked after 600. He could seek medical care after the ALCS, and he did. "You have cellulitis," said the doctor. In another day or two it would have been in your blood. Then you’d be very sick and in the hospital. You’re lucky you came in when you did."

"Jose is lucky it wasn’t a best of nine series," answered Jose.

So Jose was sent off to Mass General Emergency Room for three hours for intravenous antibiotics. His stay had two highlights. First, they evacuated the emergency room after a security guard was forced to use pepper spray to restrain a violent patient in the psych emergency ward. It was Jose’s own little taste of playoff pandemonium. Second, while waiting in the hall with an IV in his arm, Jose had a lovely conversation with a young Tufts student in a Red Sox T-shirt, who had broken both feet while celebrating the Sox’s win in Kenmore Square. Apparently, she had climbed atop a sausage stand. Once there, the best idea seemed to be jumping off. It was not the best idea. So let this be a lesson to all of Jose’s fans. When Jose wins the Pulitzer, please riot responsibly.

So the bottom line is that Jose is now on antibiotics for ten days and bed rest until Monday. That means an alcohol free World Series (Note: Isn’t this like an R rated movie with no nudity?) Also, Jose is not supposed to do anything with his left arm, including typing. So Jose is writing this and KEYS for games 1 and 2 one handed, and frankly Jose is no longer the efficient one handed typist he was in his teenage days.

2. But there was a baseball game last night and it had nothing to do with Jose’s medical problems. The big shocker (Note: To almost everyone except Jose) was that DLowe truly was transformed. Now and forever, or at least until the regular season starts next year, he is the Paranoid Android no more. Truly, he is Megatron. In fact, when he comes out to pitch from now on, they should play the Transformers theme. You know "The Transformers, more than meets the eye. The Transformers, Robots in disguise. Red Sox face their battle to destroy the evil forces of the Yankees" (Note: Oops, Jose means Cardinals or Astros now.) Also, every time DLowe gets the third out of an inning they should play the Transformers "change of scene" music …. Da da da da daaaaayyuupppp.

3. Another big story last night was Johnny Damon’s spectacular night at the plate following an awful series. Everyone who had suggested that Terry Eurona should have benched him for "The World’s Most Perfectly Sculpted Jew" or Dave Roberts now admits they were wrong and that Eurona made a wise choice. But let’s be honest, It was an easy choice. Anyone with even the most rudimentary understanding of the New Testament knew that Johnny was going to be resurrected.

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

From SoSH: Re: 10-20-04 Sox make history (Pt.4)

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

1. “If man is 5, if man is 5, if man is 5, if man is 5. Then the devil is 6, then the devil is 6 then the devil is 6 then the devil is 6. And if the devil is 6, THEN GOD IS 7, THEN GOD IS 7, THEN GOD is 7!!!” Surely, the Pixies of Boston must have been anticipating this situation when they wrote those words in “Monkey Gone to Heaven.” In game 5, our Boston Red Sox overcame the limitations of men with their superhuman performance. In game 6, they overcame the 55,000 bloodthirsty devil worshipers in the Bronx. And tonight, in game 7, they have but to embrace the deity, to pursue oneness with God, to seek peace and enlightenment. So give Kevin Youkilis a hug. He is the only god in the stadium and he is on our side…in fact, he’s under contract.

More on last night: Jose loved the sight of NYPD Blue manning the field after the Yankees fans went mad with rage over MLB Blue’s decision to make two correct calls.

“How dare they judge us fairly?” thought the Yankee partisans. “Are we not still the New York Yankees? Why should we suddenly be subject to the rules of the game? If we wish to strike a pitcher than we shall. If we think the oppositions should play with only five fielders is it not our divine right? The slap was but a just and righteous punishment for interfering with his social betters.”

The conventional explanation of the police in riot gear is that they were there to protect players and umpires from the whims of an animalistic and potentialy violent crowd. That is a lie. The constabulary in riot shields, armed with nightsticks and nine millimeter handguns had not come to protect the Red Sox from the fans. Why would they need to? Twenty-five Red Sox are men enough to whoop the entire city of New York if needs be. No, they fuzz was there to protect the Yankees from the Red Sox. Why? Because only the force of arms, only the full and fearsome power of the state could even hope to deter the Red Sox colossus.

Yes, Gary Sheffield was right when he called the Sox a “walking disaster.” The Red Sox are a volcano erupting with fury, liquidating all that stands before them. The Red Sox are a hurricane, battering and brutalizing the Yankees, pausing for a moment before the onslaught begins anew. The Red Sox are a tidal wave, washing away everything in their path. The Red Sox are a meteor strike, coming out of nowhere to lay waste to the land.

In fairness, the Yankees are a disaster to—they are a tornado. They emit a lot of wind, but in the end they mostly just suck.

2. At this point it appears that a certain DLowe the Paranoid Android will be starting game 7 for the Red Sox. One imagines that the Yankees sluggers must be rubbing their hands together with glee in anticipation of DLowe’s seemingly inevitable short circuit. This is good. Jose loves surprises.

You see, there’s a funny thing about robots—they change. With human beings, what you see is what you get. To quote legendary boxing trainer Cus D’Amato by way of Ron Borges, “A man born round don’t die square.” Kevin Brown will always be Kevin Brown. He came out of that goat a yokel with a tendency towards implosion, and he’ll die a yokel with a tendency towards implosion. ARod will always be ARod, a scared little girl who would be happier brushing her hair and looking in the mirror, than contributing to here team. And Jason Giambi will always be Jason Giambi. No, wait. He completely changed who he was with chemicals. Bad example. So let’s substitute this one. Gary Sheffield will always be…no…he doesn’t work either. One more. Tanyon Sturze will always be Tanyon Sturze, the shame of Worcester, a natural born Devil Ray who expects to lose and then ensures that he does.

Robots, by contrast, are never just robots. Robots can be born round and reforged so they are square or rhomboid or whatever. They change; they upgrade. They are deconstructed and rebuilt. What you see is never what you get. When the Yankees go to bat in the bottom of the first tonight, they will be looking for a neurotic little droid; they will have prepared for a neurotic little droid, but they will not find him. Instead, they will find a robot transformed. DLowe will be Megatron, ready to transform into a gun and launch bullets across the corners of the plate. DLowe will be Voltron, ready to combine five other robots into an invincible power. DLowe will be the Iron Giant, a visitor from another world who to quote Sam Melendez “may fall apart but always comes back together.” It is game 7 of the ALCS, and the Yankees feel safe behind their impenetrable Maginot line.

3. Immediately after Keith Foulke’s game ending strike out of Tony “Nice Guy Finishing Last” Clark, Jose made two phone calls. The first was to his brother.

“Sam,” Jose said. “Jose thinks he is going to write about 800 words tomorrow on A-Rod’s mincing, limp-wristed slap that even a ten-year old girl would have been embarrassed to dispense.”

The second call was to Jose’s friend Jamie.

“Jose,” Jamie said. “The best analysis I heard of tonight’s game came from my girlfriend Sara. As soon as they showed the replay of the A-Rod play, she remarked ‘You know, A-Rod runs like Phoebe from friends.” Poof, the 800 words was completely gone. What could Jose say, how many volumes would it take for him to capture the perfection of that characterization? (Note: Maybe A-Rod didn’t know he was doing something wrong? Maybe he just thought that slapping is what “slap hitters do.”)

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