New York City, baby.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

The Bronx Bombah

Can the world get any stranger? Imagine a Yankee infield comprised of Jeets, Slappy and Nomah. The Post is saying it could happen. The way I have it Clemens pitches no-hitter in Game Seven of the World Series in Yankee Stadium, snagging a grounder (from Renteria?) and tossing it over to first where Nomar snaps the ball shut in his glove for the last out. As the sell-out crowds unleashes a deafening roar, Nomar rushes towards the mound - wait, past the mound - and leaps into the arms of A-Rod and Jeets simultaneously where they all do a three-way hetero man-hump involving much fist-pumping. Nomar intends to give the ball to Captain Courageous but Mia sends message via the hidden mic in his ear to keep it for their kid's college tuition. Their painfully superstitious lanky jock-cock spawn grows up and goes off to Harvard, the over-achiever that he will have no choice but to be, where he will room with a frosh named Mientkiewicz. By then, Theo will be their outwardly condescending, secretly bitter college prof ("Hey, isn't that the dude who was once GM of the Sox?") teaching a seminar titled "Advanced Sabermetrics". He gives Nomar's kid an A ( Mxyztplx's kid gets a C-). Nomar realizes it's silly to still be holding onto bitter memories (Mia disagrees fervently). Feeling a sense of pity for poor Theo and realizing that if Theo had never traded him he wouldn't have earned that ring with the Yankees, or that World Series MVP award, he takes the man that sent him packing so many years ago out for lunch. Sitting there at Legal Seafoods in a razor-sharp three-piece Armani suit, looking at Theo in his slightly rumpled tweed jacket sipping his chowder with weary eyes, thinking how this could have been the guy with the Boston street named after him, Nomar is overcome with a feeling of zen-like peace, or what a wise man once called a "spiritual calm."