Juices Wild

Oh Jeez...

Would ya look at this...

From the April, 2009 Issue of Details Magazine

When I come upon an image like this one, three simple questions immediately pop into my mind:

A) Which one of A-Roid's battery of publicists, spin-doctors, lawyers and agents came up with the idea for this shoot?

B) How much does someone get paid for dispensing such judicious advice?

C) How do I get his job?

I mean, seriously, given the facts of your client's situation and the massive negative ground swell directed against him, what kind of professional anything would recommend doing a magazine spread that features the client in a flamboyantly narcissistic pose kissing his own reflection in the mirror? Is there any accountability? Didn't any one of his high priced janitors turn to him and tell him that taking this picture is probably the single worst thing you could possibly do right now?

I have posted twice on this joker (Two Peas in a Pod and Baseball is the Constant) so my opinions about this man's standing in the baseball world are pretty clear: I would pick many other ballplayers to be on my club before calling this guy. I know my position is debatable but I have been saying it since 2000 and I feel there is no reason to change my mind. All A-Fraud offers you are stats and what he takes is your team's soul.

A little harsh? Maybe but I don't care. I'm in it for the entertainment and, boy, when it comes to spectacle, this boy can bring it!

For all of you out there who haven't seen, haven't cared or don't even know who I am talking about, I will sum it up. In the span of approximately one year this celebrity dilettante by the name of Alex Rodriguez, considered by many to be the "greatest baseball player…possibly ever" tested positive for Steroids and Testosterone tainting his phenomenal statistics and branding him a cheater. He has fallen from grace and is now considered a pariah. During this period, far from minimizing any damage by laying low, he has fed the media monster large portions of red meat. First he goes through a nasty divorce, brought on by his sleeping with the (also married) Madonna - fulfilling both stars Joe DiMaggio/Marilyn Monroe fetishes - and then was outed as a performance-enhancing drug user. The circus that ensued…and when I say "circus" I mean complete with overstuffed funny cars full of tabloid writers, cable clowns and radio saps …became as oppressive as a hot August Brooklyn night when you have no air conditioning and you're out of Piels. He was front page fodder for one-month straight and back page sausage for two.

This was my favorite:

New York Post 2/9/2009

I feel guilty sometimes when I think about how many laughs I've enjoyed at this guy's expense. It isn't right, wanting someone else to fail just so you can snicker at the messiness. I know that. I really do. But A-Bomb brings so much of it on himself it is almost excusable. The laundry list of ridiculum is rather long ranging from strictly baseball issues like his failure to hit in the clutch and being a truly disliked teammate in the clubhouse. Or from off the field shenanigans like all night poker games, strip joints, Kabbalah worshipping and Madonna chasing. There was that ridiculous scene in Central Park where he and his wife (who he was repeatedly cheating on) "happened" to be there with a pack of photographers who also "happened" to be there to take endless pictures of the shirtless A-Fool who just "happens" to normally stand around and pose knowingly for cameras who he "doesn't know" are there. And then there are the completely insincere press conferences and interviews where he is obviously lying through his teeth.

And now this photo.

I have no doubt, with all the over compensation and insecurity he displays that, in the end, all this guy wants is to be loved. I see it in his words and in his actions. In his mind he has said everything and has done everything right since he came here. And then after five years of that calculated image building, after five years of trying so desperately to carve out his place in immortality, he wakes up one day, looks at the paper and sees the word A-HOLE in bold type stretched across his grape.

What a true fucking human tragedy.

Larry B