During his heyday ““ somewhere between all those arrests
but some time before that ball bounced off his head ““ the one
thing you didn’t do to Jose Canseco was throw him a slow
pitch right over the middle.
If you were just stupid enough to try it, chances were that the
burly slugger would slam the ball somewhere into the next
county.
Well, now that it’s 2003, and now that he’s been
sentenced to two years of house arrest for a 2001 nightclub fight,
Canseco has lobbed humor-hungry sports columnists a home run pitch
of his own.
I, for one, plan on hitting this one out of the park because,
you see, Jose Canseco, 1988 American League MVP, butt of more jokes
than the Detroit Tigers and Art Garfunkel combined, is auctioning
an afternoon with him at his house.
According to ESPN.com,
www.josecanseco.com set the opening bid at $2,500. The site even
offered some ideas as to how to spend the day with the former A,
Ranger, Red Sock, Blue Jay, Devil Ray, Yankee, White Sock,
Buccaneer, Grizzly, Sabre, Republican, Whig and Freemason.
The Web site suggests everything from private power-hitting
instruction to a cookout by Canseco’s pool. And it got me
thinking about what I’d do if I won the auction and flew down
to the Canseco Compound in South Florida.
12 p.m.: I come in through the foyer and wave to Canseco’s
Frank Stallone-like brother Ozzie, who’s laying on the couch.
“Ozzie’s been staying in the guest house for so long
that I call him Kato Kaelin,” Jose jokes to me.
2:30 p.m.: I pull out my ’86 Donruss Jose Canseco Rated
Rookie and proceed to accost Jose about how stupid I was to pay $50
for it in 1988. “The people at Beckett Baseball Card Monthly
wouldn’t take me off their damn Cold List, no matter how many
homers I hit,” Jose laments.
5 p.m.: Jose puts on his old Texas Rangers uniform and we
re-create the ball-off-the-head incident, finally succeeding in
getting it just right on the 14th try. I get the feeling Jose
thought house arrest would be a little more fun than this.
6 p.m.: I say goodbye to Ozzie, who’s still on the
couch.
Man, if a C-list sports celebrity like Jose Canseco could be
this much fun, imagine what it’d be like to win an auction
and spend an afternoon with”¦
Anna Kournikova
12 p.m.: Anna: “I’ve got a very busy day of practice
ahead, so we’d better get going. Hey. They told me you were a
hockey player!” Me: “Oh. I am. Don’t worry. So
““ uh ““ do we make out now or later?”
12:30-12:35 p.m.: Tennis practice. Anna hits six backhands and
nine forehands before toweling off. “My agent says I have to
do this every day in order to pull off the whole
“˜professional tennis player’ image,” she says.
“What a bore.”
1-5 p.m.: Cosmo photo shoot. “I do so many of those
meaningless promotional things that I sometimes lose track of my
profession,” Anna complains. “It’s nice to
finally do what I’m best at.” Me: “You’re
right. We should probably make out.”
Phil Mickelson
4:30 p.m.: Phil shows me his trophy case, which is rather
impressive. That is, until I see a crudely assembled mound of
tinfoil that bears a vague resemblance to the Masters championship
trophy. “Ah. This was one of my favorites,” Lefty says,
smiling. “I got this baby when I shot a 65 in the final round
to win the Masters.” I don’t have the heart to call him
out. He seems too happy.
Jim Mora
1:45 p.m.: The hotheaded former Colts and Saints coach has been
out of work for a year now, so I ask him if it’s nice to have
a day off whenever he wants one. “Day off? DAY OFF?!”
he screams. “I just want something to do!”
And finally, as it’s only fair”¦
Jeff Agase
1:20 p.m.: Agase has been talking for over an hour straight
about his stupid loser Detroit sports teams.
2:30 p.m.: Agase whines about the Red Wings.
3:45 p.m.: Agase pulls out a Barry Sanders jersey from his
closet and starts crying.
5:15 p.m.: Agase whines about the Pistons.
6 p.m.: Agase keeps talking about this stupid idea for a column,
where he spends an aftern”“
Through Monday, the Detroit Tigers had 34 runs in 17 games.