We are all Yankees. It's 3 a.m. on a Sunday morning. I'm on my couch, happily ingesting a Jin's chicken sandwich and watching \Rounders"" for the 47th time. And for the 47th time in a row, I am bewildered by the so-called Russian accent that John Malkovich's Teddy KGB is spewing. ""I spash zeee pote venevah zee fack I pleeeeze""? What the hell is he saying?
Out of nowhere, my phone rings. It's Arvind, my editor and power hour partner-in-crime just 10 hours ago. I figured he was doing some drunk-dialing, or possibly he needed to get bailed out of jail ... again.
Me: ""Arv, what's happenin'?""
Arv: ""Hey, Jonesy. I'm really sorry man, I had to do it.""
Me: ""What are you talkin' about?""
Arv: ""We traded you to the Yankees.""
I went from zero to sober in three seconds.
Me: ""What do you mean I've been traded to the Yankees?! I don't even play f-----g baseball!""
Arv: ""Well, all Brian Cashman said was that they wanted Mike Jones. And since you're a free agent next year and with Amos and Flawless Reflections both going to arbitration, we needed to dump your salary.""
Me: ""Arvind, I don't get paid.""
Arv: ""Well that's besides the point.""
Apparently, George Steinbrenner, still drunk with power from the Alex Rodriguez deal, told his GM Brian Cashman to secure as many starting pitchers as economically possible. Cashman, in turn, knew that there was a promising pitcher named Mike Jones in the Milwaukee Brewers farm system (which is true). However, since the Brewers cannot afford a Web site or a telephone, Cashman was unable to reach them. So he had to Google ""Mike Jones and Wisconsin."" Finding my name somehow, he failed to realize that: A) I was listed with a student newspaper, B) I'm black, whereas the prospect Mike Jones is a 6'4' white guy and C) I look like the least athletic son-of-a-bitch on the planet.
But deals are deals and now I was on my way to New York. Apparently, I wasn't the only transaction Georgie Porgie has made. In a span of three days, he had acquired Sammy Sosa, Randy Johnson, the rights to Pete Rose's book and subsequent betting slips, the Disney Corporation, the Outback Steakhouse chains, the Eiffel Tower and the African nation of Mozambique. Steinbrenner, it seems, has not only turned into MLB's enemy number one, but also a villain from ""Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?""
I don't know what they wanted from me. Cashman must have known I'm not athletic (even though I'll contend my arm is stronger than Jeter's). True, the last time I played organized baseball, I did win an award. However, that award was the Most Improved Player Award. And anyone who's ever played a sport can tell you, the M.I.P. Award is their way of telling you, ""Hey, you REALLY sucked before you came here. And now, you're not nearly as sucky. But you still suck, just to a lesser degree.""
But it's been fun just hanging out here at Yankees headquarters. Once I notified them of my situation as an obese black male who peaked with a 45 MPH pitch once at the Minnesota State Fair, they were surprisingly more than willing to find me alternate employment. I mean, heck, these are the folks that allowed George Costanza to climb his way into upper management. I file papers, I organize Jeter's black book, I even keep a lookout while Giambi gets his ... um, ""supplements"". Yep, I'm now part of the mystique.
My point is that sooner or later, we're all going to be acquired by the New York Yankees. Like the inevitability that one in four students on this campus has STDs, or that we all are connected to Kevin Bacon in six degrees, we will all be on the Yankees' payroll at least once in our lifetime. It's unavoidable, so we might as well accept it instead of rolling our eyes each time the Yanks make a move.
That is, until we're traded to the Giants for Barry Bonds and a Volvo dealership.
Michael Jones is a senior majoring in political science and international relations. He can be reached at michaeljones
@dailycardinal.com.
