Friday, May 11, 2007

Does The Wolf = The Rocket?

Dear yankees fans,

You just signed Roger Clemens, and from what I've seen, you're quite excited. But please let me remind you of the events in a certain recent film, which I feel may offer you some wisdom on how to react. If I may...

In
Pulp Fiction, Vincent Vega (John Travolta, who is totally not gay, I swear, and also totally knows how to save lives) and Jules Winfield (Samuel L. Jackson, who would kick my muthafuckin' ass if I linked to something bad about him) are two longtime hitmen who are sent to recover something very important to their very scary and demanding boss.

So Jules and Vincent drive to their destination, discussing the "royale with cheese," etc. They arrive at the apartment, and (random-black-guy-) Marvin -- who is their spy or something -- lets them in. After that, Vincent examines the mysteriously glowing suitcase, and very soon Jules executes both the Flock-of-Seagulls-guy-on-the couch and then (after a very satisfying Big Kahuna burger) "check-out-the-big-brain-on-" Brad.

Following that, Jules and Vincent (and Marvin), having successfully acquired what they sought, head back to base in Jules's Chevy Nova. Everything is going perfectly well. But on the way, Vincent carelessly points his gun at Marvin and accidentally blows his head off, painting the whole car in blood and brain matter. At this point, Jules and Vincent don't know what to do, so Jules calls his coffee-loving friend Jimmy and they drive to his house to hide the blood-stained car. Jules soon calls Marcellus Wallace -- their black, bald badass boss -- who informs him that someone named "The Wolf" is gonna come by and handle things, which immediately relieves Jules. We soon learn why the mere mention of "The Wolf" is so relaxing – this man solves problems.

Once The Wolf arrives, he figures out what to do right away. He works things out with Jimmy and quickly comes up with a plan*** to fix things. Jules and Vincent execute his plan. Essentially, they clean the car, making it presentable enough to drive to a spot where The Wolf knows a guy who will take care of it from there. But before that happens, The Wolf inspects the cleaning job Jules and Vincent did. Coffee-loving Jimmy (who's also an oak man) looks on, and he's quite impressed. "I can't believe this is the same car," Jimmy says. Jules and Vincent proudly await The Wolf's judgment. And then The Wolf spouts his immortal line:

"Let's not start sucking each other's dicks quite yet, gentlemen."

After the recent Roger Clemens signing, I hereby ask all yankee fans to consider that. Let's take a quick look at what this really means, because many yankee fans all of a sudden seem to think Roger Clemens is gonna single-handedly turn around this team’s blood-splattered Chevy Nova of a season. Will he help? Sure. But how much?

When Marcellus Wallace lets Jules know that he's sending The Wolf over, he's chilling beside a pool as his hot wife kisses him. How Marcellus built up his crime empire is something we aren't told (Come to think of it, how did George Steinbrenner? Hmm…); but when he tells Jules that The Wolf is on the way, Jules goes from angry as fuck ("I don't wanna hear about no muthafuckin’ 'ifs'!") to jubilant when he hears that The Wolf is coming ("You sendin' The Wolf? Shit, negro, that's all you had to say!").

Did you see the reactions of the yankee players and the fans at the stadium once Roger made his announcement during the 7th inning stretch? Very much like how Jules reacted, no?

But who can blame them? The yanks' starting pitching is in shambles, unlike when they were winning championships -- when their starting rotation was dominant. Roger Clemens helped them win championships in 1999 and 2000, the last of the yanks' titles. (Is it worth noting that the year before he got there, the yanks won 114 games and the Series without him? Had Roger won anything prior to that? Hmm…) He left following the 2003 season, leaving the final image (until now) of the great Clemens in pinstripes as him walking off the mound in Game 7 of the ALCS in the fourth inning after being pounded by the Sox.

Since then, the bronx bombers haven't been able to put a staff together that remotely compares to their glory days.

Much like Jules and Vincent (via Marcellus) called in The Wolf, the yanks (via George Steinbrenner) have now called in The Rocket. The Wolf fixed the problem; can The Rocket?

Once The Wolf came in, he had the plan, he saw how Jules and Vincent carried it out, and then, when everyone seemed happy with their progress, he made sure that they didn’t get complacent, saying simply:

Let’s not start sucking each other’s dicks quite yet, gentlemen.

yankee fans -- take note. Whatever The Rocket is capable of doing, nothing he has done or said recently leads anyone to believe he has the foresight of The Wolf. (Since his first "retirement" following 2003, he spent three years in Houston and won what exactly? I'd say all that he "won" was a series of absurd demands from Houston's management -- and now the yanks too, despite the age-old "yankee way" -- allowing him to be the "24 and 1" player Alex Rodriguez was thought to be not too long ago. Hey Roger, if you want to be with your family, go ahead. Baseball will find a way to get by without you.)

His career stats are undeniable, but can he really be expected to turn everything around? I think the yanks are looking at a pitcher who's gonna give them 6 innings with an ERA around 4.00. Yes, he has intangibles, but don't they already have some guy named...what is it...Jeter? At 6 innings and a 4.00 ERA -- and assuming Chien Ming Wang, Mike Mussina and Andy Pettitte can return and pitch like they have in the recent past -- didn't the yanks just pay $28 million (prorated, blah whatever, it's still a fuckin' lot) for a guy who could end up being a number 4 starter?

Does he actually help the fact that the yanks' middle relief is god-awful? No. In fact, he makes it worse every time he doesn't make it into the eighth inning. And beyond middle relief, how much does Mariano Rivera really have left? He's shown time and again that however dominating he is against most teams, he has enormous problems with the Red Sox. And of all the teams the yanks have to worry about, which is number one?

Yes, I can understand why the yanks did this. They had the money; they had the need (especially after Phil Hughes's injury); and The Rocket loves them. But to think that The Rocket is gonna be able to do for George Steinbrenner, the yanks and their fans what The Wolf was able to for Marcellus, Jules and Vincent is pushing it.

As The Wolf said, Let's not start...

love,
Open Bar

*** P.S. -- Personal note: The Wolf's "plan" basically involves cleaning the car. Cleaning the car. All The Wolf really does is tell Jules and Vincent to take some towels and Windex into the car and clean it. That's fucking it.

Is that really all that brilliant? I mean, one time I met a chick at a bar and we went home together and...well, you know. In the morning, I woke up and noticed the bed was wet. And I mean fucking wet. While I was sleeping, I pissed at least two pitchers out onto that poor girl's mattress. I didn't know what to do, so I went to the bathroom to think things over, at which point I came up with an idea "worthy" of The Wolf. I went back to the bed and woke the girl up. I talked fast, telling her we should go watch some TV or something, and hurried her out of the bed before she could notice the...you know. Once she sat down on the couch, I went back to the bed and pulled the sheets up, arranged the pillows, and laid the comforter on top -- basically, I made the bed really nicely. Her whole mattress was soaked with my piss, but I made the top look normal. If you substitute piss for blood, isn't my plan for her bed the same thing as The Wolf's plan for the car?

And for the record, she did realize what I had done. (Shocker!) She was friends with a friend (Johanna) of my friend (Hollywood Squared), and weeks after this whole incident, I ran into Johanna. She told me that her friend was grossed out about her bed, but -- and I'm being totally serious -- I was really good in bed, so she didn't really care. But the point remains -- neither my plan nor The Wolf's was ultimately all that brilliant. It served its immediate purpose, but I don't remember me or Jules or Vincent winning any World Series as a result.


2 comments:

Joe said...

Holy shit! That P.S. deserves its own entry.

Anyhow, the thing with the Wolf is that he doesn't let his emotions get the best of him.

He doesn't freak out like Jules and Vincent. He doesn't rant about "dead nigger storage" like Tarantino's cameo.

He just calmly analyzes a situation, figures out what to do, and does it.

Like Open Bar, when faced with a vagina that needs eating or a deluge of urine that needs camouflage.

Max said...

Outstanding post.