Now that Derek Jeter, New York Yankees long-time short-stop and team captain, has retired from Major League Baseball, it seems a near certainty that he will achieve sainthood well ahead of Mother Teresa and Pope John Paul II. For a sense of the headiness surrounding Jeter’s exit, digest some of the encomiums that have appeared in the press in the last several weeks leading up to Jeter’s final game in which his bloopy single saved the day once again.
NY Post – “More than anything Jeter seems like a nice guy who is unimpressed and uninterested in the accoutrements of his celebrity status.”
Fox Sports – “Derek Jeter is the most universally respected player of the modern era in baseball, and perhaps in all of sports.”
NPR – “If Jeter’s career has shown anything, it’s that utter reliability has a strangeness about it, and it has beauty. And among those who witness it, it can breed devotion. When Jeter retires, that’s what they’ll miss.”
NY Times – In a particularly fawning article: “Jeter is (to be) assumed into the baseball heavens, to be greeted at the Players Entrance by the Yankee Clipper, the Mick and the Sultan of Swat.”
Former teammate, Nick Swisher – “The man is an absolute god. The way that he went out will never ever be replicated.”
Perhaps professional sports figures have become so universally venal, with expectations of being treated like royalty, that a player who simply acts like a normal, dedicated person is elevated to Ghandi-like status.
Given Jeter’s illustrious record (five World Series rings, 14 All-Star games, all-time MLB leader in hits by a shortstop, Yankees’ all-time career leader in hits (3,465), doubles (544), games played (2,747), stolen bases (358)) and his steady, non-offensive professional lifestyle, pure as the driven snow for a multi-million dollar sports figure, no way will he have to wait around for beatification and canonization – next stop: straight to sainthood.
Clearly, Jeter has performed the requisite two miracles necessary for sainthood. The first came in game 3 of the 2001 American League Division Series against the Oakland A’s when Jeter miraculously appeared in the middle of a relay play out of right field to home (despite his position being on the other side of second base), flipping the over-thrown ball to Jorge Posada a nanosecond before Jeremy Giambi touched the plate.
Photographic evidence of St. Derek’s levitation miracle.
The second miracle occurred in the top of the 12th inning against the Boston Red Sox on July 1, 2004 when Derek the Jeter levitated into the stands after snagging a ball hit by Trot Nixon. Jeter stumbled out of the clutch of fans with a bloodied face and the Yankees went on to win 2-1 after scoring two runs in the bottom of the 13th inning. Rumor has it that a female fan dabbed Derek with a cloth that later came to bear an imprint of his face.
There is even talk within the Vatican that God may call up Saint Derek (posthumously, of course) to replace the Holy Ghost on Team Trinity. It seems H.G. (as he is known around heaven) has been a little too obtuse over the past millennium or so, granting just two interviews since the Inquisition and spending way too much time playing Baccarat at the Bellagio.
Memo to Jesus: If Jeter joins the Holy Trinity, watch your back. God didn’t assign him #2 for nothing.
Time to Short Netflix?
Forbes Magazine boasted a disturbing headline the other day: “Adam Sandler Deal Cheers Netflix Stock, But Will It Prove To Be A Blockbuster?” The very concept that association with the genetically unfunny Sandler could cheer any company’s stock seems as foolish as, well, casting Adam Sandler in a movie. After all, the man has appeared in one-after-the-other moronic dud movies, each a defilement of the very celluloid upon which it had been rendered.
Consider his starring movies which received sweeping dogshit ratings from RottenTomatoes.com, an aggregator of professional movie reviews:
Billy Madison – 46%. Sandler was the screenwriter
Happy Gilmore – 60%. Again, the screenwriter, as well as self-plagiarizer.
The Waterboy – 35%. Yet another retard-makes-good story.
Little Nicky – 22%. Screenwriter. The pattern has emerged. The fucker can’t write.
I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry – 14% (!)
Grown Ups – 10% (!!)
Grown Ups 2 – 7% (!!!). The original dud-quel.
Jack and Jill – 3 fucking percent (!!!!). Virtually unheard of, until . . .
The Cobbler – 0%. (5x!) Even more despised than Ebola.
Getting back to the Forbes story: the report is that Netflix had announced that it recruited Adam Sandler to produce and star in four movies that will premiere exclusively to Netflix subscribers. That might be dumber than the Food Network signing up Jeffrey Dahmer to host “Iron Chef”: “Contestants, you have 30 minutes to create a meal using all the ingredients set before you – spleen, cerebellum, fava beans, brook trout, rectum, and Belgian chocolate.”
The idea that Netflix, which leads the industry in streaming movie content and has made inroads against competitive providers like HBO with the “Orange is the New Black” series, would cut a deal with perennial loser Sandler calls their sanity into question. Or maybe not. Despite the long-running series of critical disasters, Sandler’s movies have done OK financially. Perhaps Netflix is banking on the notion that its subscribers are predominantly idiotic. Brainless chickens that will peck for whatever schmutz that’s tossed in their faces.
Wedbush analyst Michael Pachter called this move “prudent” for Netflix, because they’re paying for the right to premiere Sandler’s work but not taking on the risk of distributing the films in case they are duds.
In case they are duds? C’mon. If Adam Sandler were a stock on NASDAQ, the symbol would be DUDS.
My guess for his first movie: “After Billy Madison and Happy Gilmore have a menage a quatre with Chuck and Larry, they reminisce in drag about the old days.”