Josh Raup is
The Minister of Strat Mayhem
Volume I, Number 4
March 4, 2001
The
Strange and Curious Tale of Dr. Strangeglove
(Or how I stopped worrying and learned to love
Aaron Ledesma)
Our tale begins many moons ago, in the fair city of Boston. I was making my way along Landsdown street (aka Ted Williams Way), with the intent of going to Kenmore Square. As I walked along behind the infamous Green Monster, I saw a rather strange gathering. One that could only happen in Boston, and only at Fenway Park.
As I passed by what was then Axis (a
dance club), I saw a rather large cherry picker, hoisting a figure up above the
left field wall, just below the nets.
There was a large crowd gathered around, with news crews and radio types
doing live broadcasts. Hmm, says I,
what’s all this? So I stopped, seeking
to satisfy my curiosity.
I walked up to the back of the
crowd, listening to what people were saying.
“Do you think this’ll really work?”
“It can’t hurt can it?” “I can’t think of anyone better to do it.” Now what on earth was going on? And who was this guy up in the bucket,
leaning towards the wall? I soon enough
had my answer.
I watched as a black clad figure,
with a wide brimmed hat, addressed the crowd from the bucket of the cherry
picker. I was shocked to discover who
this individual was, and just what he was going to do. “Friends,” he said, “As an official of the
Catholic Church, I am empowered to do many things. This exorcism I am about to do, will finally rid Fenway and the
Red Sox of the dreaded “curse of the Bambino.”
I will force these demons of ages past out of Fenway, and back to Yankee
Stadium where they belong.” The crowd
went nuts. Cheers arose from every
person there, myself included. For none
other than Father Guido Sarducci was here to perform the exorcism.
Father Guido proceeded with the
ritual of exorcism, leaning out towards the Monster, spraying Holy water with a
palm leaf, and using the accepted formulae.
I was more than impressed. Not
only that Father Guido had agreed to do this, but that Red Sox fans were going
along with it, and willing to try just about anything. Now, I should note that this was in early
May, and the Sox were mired in a 6 game losing streak. And I should note, that after the ceremony,
they went on an 8 game winning streak.
Coincidence? I think not. But I digress.
As things wound down, I again
proceed on my way to Kenmore Square. As
I approached the Cask and Flagon (on the corner of Landsdown and Beacon), I
espied another man dressed in black.
This guy looked like something out of a 50’s cold war spy movie. The black suit, black fedora, and black
trench coat made this guy look like a bad parody of a KGB agent. The black sunglasses just added to the
image. We made eye contact, at least I think
we did, but I didn’t think anything of it.
I just went on my way.
I decided that I was going to stop
at Captain Nemo’s for a couple of slices of bad pizza before going to the T
stop at catching the bus out to Newton.
So I wandered in, got two slices of cheese, a large Dr. Pepper, and sat
down next to the Mortal Combat game. As
I was going to play strato that day, I pulled out my team and went over my line
ups for the day.
As I sat there, contemplating my
bull pen, that black clad figure I had seen earlier sat down across from
me. I was caught a bit off guard, and
started when he sat down. “Ahhh. A stratomatic player I see. How’s your team?” I nearly choked on my pizza.
“Doing just fine. I seem to have everything in pace.”
“Good, good. That’s what I like to hear.” Just who the hell is this guy? And why is he so damn curious about my
strato team?
“Excuse me, but just who are you?”
“Hmm? Oh, sorry. I’m a sports
psychologist. I was watching events at
the park, and thought I’d get some reactions from those who watched it.” Yeah right I thought, this guy is in need of
therapy, and he’s a psychologist? Good
grief.
“Ah. And you play strat?”
“Yes I do. I’m in six leagues.” Six
leagues?! And I thought this guy needed
therapy before. Now I’m sure he’s a
candidate for the looney bin.
“Six leagues? That’s a lot. Must get confusing at times.”
“Not really. I do just fine. I’m defending league champ in four of them, and was runner up in
the other two. Not bad eh?”
“That’s pretty good I’d say. So, do you play for fun or professional
reasons?”
“A bit of both. I like playing, and doing so gives me an
insight into the minds of baseball fans in general. Seeing how these guys make moves as GMs and coaches allows me to
translate that for the real pros when they call.”
“OK, so how does what a duff arm
chair GM do relate to how a professional GM acts?”
“Simple. It’s about reactions.
Here’s an example. In one
league, an owner has Rickey Henderson.
A good card, with on base, and speed.
Well, Rickey isn’t performing up to what he should, so this guy
immediately looks to dump him. He takes
the first offer, which is less than value to get rid of him. A pro GM would probably feel the same way,
but would try and sell Rickey more, to get a better value. But the intial recation is the same. Get rid of the bum.”
At this point, I was about ready to
call 911 for the guys in the white coats.
I mean c’mon. Using strat players
to model professional reactions? This
has got to be some kind of joke. But,
my curiosity was piqued.
“I can see that. I’ve done it a few times, with Rickey
even. But does this really help when
dealing with the pros?”
“Absolutely. It gives me practice in helping people cope
with having made bad decisions in the heat of the moment. Someone trades Rickey for Tom Brunansky, then
regrets it. A pro might trade Rickey
for Frank Viola and feel the same way later on. Not that much difference at all really.”
“So you’re using your strat leagues like
a med student uses cadavers then?”
“Well, I suppose, just not that
graphically or morbidly.” He started to
flip through my cards as he spoke.
Examining the line up I had, my rotation, bullpen and minors. He kept nodding his head as he did so. “Hmm.
Not a bad team at all. Some
minor weaknesses, but that’s about it.
Should be a contender.”
“Thanks.” Weaknesses? What
weaknesses? This team was out to a 30-2
start. “So what weaknesses do you see?”
“Well, your bench. You don’t have a good utility guy on the
major league roster. It could be a
problem if you lose more than two guys to injuries in one game. Especially up the middle.”
“OK, so what? I can soak that for a few innings.”
“But what if it’s for more than the
remainder of a game? It’s the one or
two game injuries that will hurt you the most.
You’ve got the guy, but just not on the active roster.”
“Who’s that? Most of the guys in my minors are there for
a reason, like they don’t have a place.”
He flipped through the cards again,
pulling out one. He held it aloft and
handed it to me.
“Aaron Ledesma. He plays three of the four infield
positions, and his worst rating is a 3.
He has some average and pop, and can fill in for a game or two when you
need him. You already have Mark Lewis
up, so that should cover things. Send Bruno
(Tom Brunansky) to the minors. You
already have back up out fielders and first basemen.”
I went through my team again. I examined my bench, and my starters. As I did so, I could see his point. I made the switch, banishing Bruno to the
nether realms of AAA, and bringing Ledesma back to the bigs.
“Thanks. I hadn’t really thought of that before. You can never have enough insurance eh?”
“Not really. But I need to get going. One last question before I move on. What did you think of the exorcism?”
“Who knows. It was entertaining, and humorous, and it
might even work.”
“You a Sox fan?”
“Not anymore. I gave up on them in 86. I surrendered to the inevitable. I figured if I’m going to root for a team
that’s going top disappoint me, I’ll root for one that gets it done and over
with before the all star break. I’m a
Tribe fan now.”
“Interesting. I’d like to discuss this more with you at
some point. Here’s my card, give me a
call sometime.” He handed me his card,
and walked out of Nemo’s, pausing briefly to get a paper on his way out.
I looked at the card, still somewhat
disturbed by this guy. The card read: “Dr.
Strangleglove MD, PhD. Sports
Psychologist.” I almost threw it away,
but something stayed my hand. I put the
card in my wallet, and went off to the T stop, got on the #57 bus, and was on
my way to play strato.
Sure enough, as I played games that
evening, I lost Ryne Sandberg and Ozzie Smith to two game injuries. Had I not moved Ledesma to the active
roster, I would have been forced to play someone out of position for those two
games. That weird guy’s advice had
saved me. I decided then to call him,
and at least give him my appreciation for his advice.
The next day I called him. We chatted about his advice, and about
baseball, and life in general. Thus began
my relationship with the good Doctor.
Since then he has provided me with immeasurable amounts of advice, tips,
and strategies (see previous column).
We have become quite good friends, and I will endeavor to continue to
pass along his advice to the greater strato world out there.
(Author’s
note: Some of the above was real, and
some of it the fictional creations of my diseased and tormented psyche. I will leave it to you, the reader, to
decide which is which.)
The Minister for Strat Mayhem is Josh
Raup
www.oocities.org/highoaksdrifter
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