by Jose Valentin's Moustache
February 20, 2006

Checking in from the JPS Draft Party coming live from Uncle Cliff’s in Somerville, MA, this is Jose Valentin’s Moustache. In just a few short days I’ll be joining the rest of Jose Valentin in Port St. Lucie as we begin what should be a great season with the New York Mets, but today is all about softball.

With JPS Chunky Captains Jeff Martin and Lydia Barrett and Classic’s Luke Ascolillo and Heather Mernitz tucked away in the war room with former skipper Morgan Melchiorre, the air is full of celebration and tension. In a short time many longtime former teammates will no longer share the same bench. Who knows, maybe even Dom and Erik will wind up on opposite sides. What a sad day this could turn out to be.

But not everyone has such things on their mind. Rookie-to-be Jose Colon rests comfortably in the front room of Uncle Cliff’s, nursing a High Life draft and espousing the success of whatever team he winds up on.

“We’re going to be good. That’s for sure. I mean look at these guys, they are all great players. I just want to have a good time, drive my VW minibus full of Heinekens over to the field and maybe do a couple of back flips. I can bring that to whatever team picks me.”

Soon the captains emerge, with papers in their hands and satisfied looks on their faces (especially Luke for some reason). Lydia quickly calls everyone to attention as the rosters are read off in alphabetical order, alternating picks. Some names receive applause, others some well-intentioned jeers. A few elicit Tony Sakakeeny to say, “Who’s that?” or, “I like that one. That’s a good pick.”

In all, twenty-nine names are called, and at each pick, players who made it to the gala are not invited to come shake hands and take a pic with the commissioner (although Cindy Marti did a great job as official photographer for the night), but rather accept a red or blue cup depending on the team that selected them, to clearly mark the lines of division that will soon spill over from a friendly gathering between the chalk lines and squarely in the middle of some tough competition. Uncle Cliff accepts his cup for JPS Chunky while talking on the phone with Cheryl Milligan, who is taken by Team Classic with the next pick. Via the call, Cheryl is “excited to be with her new team, and will be ready to go in the summer. I don’t know if I can say the same for Fox.”

After everything, the rosters look effectively even. Maybe one side is banking on veterans with spotty reliability, while the other looks towards unproven rookies. Both could turn out to be dominant forces in the league.

“These are good teams,” Tony says. But when pressed about which team he thinks made out best, he reluctantly gives up, “I’m gonna go with the Blue Cups.”

However, not everyone is thrilled with the way things turned out. Longtime veteran Derek Fisher exclaims to another JPSer, “Great, I’m surrounded by dimwits,” while a member of the new JPS Chunky confides, “I don’t know what we’re going to do with all this slow guys clogging up the bases. I mean we’ve got Morgan, LJ, Paco, and Jose? No offense, but Joe Colon is not going to be doing any back flips onto the field come opening day.”

As the night winds down for most, the back of Uncle Cliff’s is inhabited by three players, two JPS Clunky and one Classic, drinking and smoking cigars late into the night, arguing about the upcoming season, and maybe a few other things we shouldn’t bring up in this space.

“Don’t pull that f’in Red Cup/Blue Cup shit with me!” Mitts says as Uncle Cliff makes a motion as if he were trying to snap someone’s neck. Obes smiles and stubs a cigarette in a small bowl while trying to remember the name Keeley Hazell. It might turn out to be a very long season.

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