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It is finally here, the moment up to which every sports fan's life has been building. A happening that will make the Gods cheer and the seraphim sing. An event so monumental it will make the first of Michael Jordan's re-un-retirements look anticlimactic.
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| There's a lot to get excited about for Joba's start. It's the Yankees' finish that should cause worry. (Getty Images) |
He will dominate. He will reign. He will make you forget all those who came before him.
He will throw 68 to 72 pitches, maybe.
Just how anticipated is Joba's starting-rotation bow? The broadcast networks waved the white flag, serving up a mix of House reruns ("House makes an improbable diagnosis and acts all ornery and whatnot") and election coverage. The NHL bumped the potential Game 6 of the Stanley Cup playoffs back to Wednesday so as not to intrude upon the low-brimmed righty's spotlight dance. The NBA delayed the start of the 2008 Finals by two days, just in case the country needs Wednesday to digest the beacon of magnificent awesomeness that is Joba.
So outside of the expected -- a no-hitter, a quasi-religious experience, the dawning of a new age in contemporary sports and, indeed, Western civilization -- what can we expect from Joba's first A-team night on the big stage? It'll probably go something like ...
4:25 p.m.: Joba arrives at Yankee Stadium in his blue Duster, escorted by a NYPD motorcade. After a horde of squealing teenage girls attempt to upend the car, cops cordon off the scene and mace the offending parties. In the ensuing confusion, eight SWAT team members extract Joba from the vehicle and hustle him the 75 yards between the players' parking lot and the stadium entrance. Ever respectful, Joba insists on holding the door for everyone.
4:31 p.m.: Joba changes from his street clothes -- head-to-toe Ermenegildo Zegna, natch -- into his navy blue Yankees undershirt and pinstriped uniform trousers. A reporter fortunate enough to witness the sartorial transformation posts the following impression on his blog: "Unlike the rest of us, Joba does not put on his pants one leg at a time. In fact, he puts them on two legs at a time, while text-messaging with his left hand and shaving with his right."
5:06 p.m.: Joba meets with the street gang of Yankee beat reporters. Summary of the no-holds-barred session: No, he isn't nervous. Yes, he hopes to go at least five full innings. No, you can't have a sip of that. Yes, he will still be your friend. The klatch concludes with an ever-respectful "thanks a lot, guys."
5:11 p.m.: Joba takes a nap. He dreams of turtles.
5:52 p.m.: For his pregame snack, the once-tubby Joba consumes the crispest of legumes and the juiciest of Jujubes. He daintily wipes the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin, which is immediately encased in Lucite and put up for charity auction on eBay.
5:57 p.m.: Amid frenzied bidding, the soiled Joba rag sells for $28,200.
6:12 p.m.: Joba heads out to the bullpen, where he goes over the game plan with Jose Molina. Knowing that Joba needs no further guidance or support, Molina instead recommends a mix of pop-culture touchstones (EW.com, Project Runway) and home remedies (saltwater gargle for sore throats).
