Joba还没投, 投球的结果就出炉了, 太长了没时间翻, 超好笑。 http://www.sportsline.com/mlb/story/10851298/1 Joba's big night will be a success -- if there are two of him June 2, 2008 By Larry Dobrow Special to CBSSports.com 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. Joba Chamberlain will make his first major league start Tuesday night in The Bronx, USA. 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). 6:45 p.m.: To the roar of a frenzied crowd, Joba strides lazily from the bullpen to the dugout. Rather than his usual entrance blast of Mötley Crü e's Shout at the Devil, the Yankees opt for a full fireworks display and an 11-minute version of Simply the Best performed by opera dude/Yankee Stadium squatter Ronan Tynan. 7 p.m.: History is made as Joba takes his first victorious steps out of the Yankee Stadium dugout as a starter. The stadium illuminates with flashbulbs, despite the early hour and the .085 percent chance that such photos will register as anything but a blur. 7:01 p.m.: Joba warms up on the mound. From the Yankee radio sanctum, impartial journalist Suzyn Waldman comments on Joba's "electric" warmup tosses. She notes his "thick, muscular thighs" and the rotation of his "surprisingly slender" hips. Broadcast partner John Sterling enthusiastically agrees, adding "Jumpin' Joltin' Jivin' Juicy Juggernaut Jujitsu Joba" to his confusing-catchphrase arsenal. 7:03 p.m.: Tynan reappears for a bloated six-minute version of the national anthem, proving once anew that the Yankees love freedom more than the Red Sox do. During the song, the so-respectful Joba removes his cap and bows his head. 7:09 p.m.: Triple Crown contender Big Brown is trotted out onto the field, literally and figuratively, to throw out the ceremonial first pitch. The horsie half-hoofs the ball toward the third-base line. The crowd reacts favorably. 7:11 p.m.: Joba strikes out David Eckstein, Aaron Hill and Alex Rios in a mere 10 pitches, baffling them with a diving fastball (nasty), a bowel-vacating change-up (nastier), a howitzer of a curve (nastier still) and his trademark kamikaze slider (think an underfed Sally Struthers). Only Eckstein, by virtue of his supreme talent, makes contact with a pitched ball. The Yankee Stadium crowd rises to its feet as Joba leaves the field, showering him with jewels and undergarments. 7:20 p.m.: After Jays starter Roy Halladay sets down the Yankees with an economical eight pitches in the bottom of the first, a Canadian ex-pat fan practically announces his ignorance by suggesting that Joba ranks as the second-most-able pitcher currently in the game. The hoser is pulled aside and beaten savagely by the hairy-knuckle contingent in Section 39. 7:26 p.m.: Rod Barajas' ground ball somehow penetrates the impervious Yankee infield defense. He becomes the answer to the future trivia question, "Which ridiculously lucky jerkhead player's fluke base hit was the first surrendered by 400-win Hall of Famer Joba Chamberlain as a starting pitcher?" 7:28 p.m.: A six-pitch walk to Joe Inglett? This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. Suzyn Waldman attempts to impale herself on her scorecard pencil. 7:29 p.m.: Whew -- a double play. CNN cancels plans to break into its regular programming. 7:29 p.m.: Joba pumps his fist enthusiastically, prompting school-before-the-old-school Jays skipper John Gibbons to lose his crap. From the dugout, he chirps at Joba about "knowing your place" and "acting like you've been there before." He is immediately placed in protective custody. 7:38 p.m.: Lookie that -- the Yankees score a run off Halladay. That's something you don't see every night. Joba is credited with the RBI, despite having spent the half-inning in the clubhouse fielding congratulatory calls from world leaders and captains of industry. 7:57 p.m.: Joba throws three heaters past an overmatched designated hitter who does not resemble the recently released Frank Thomas. Somewhere north of the border, J.P. Ricciardi idly scratches his ass. 8:11 p.m.: Jason Giambi, slump-busting mustache and thong in tow, yanks a Halladay changeup into the shallow right-field stands to give the Yankees a 2-0 lead. Upon emerging from the dugout for his mandatory Yankee-does-something-half-OK curtain call, Giambi hears only murmurs. After a few concerned strokes of his 'stache, he retreats into the dugout and sends out Joba. The crowd goes bonkers. 8:28 p.m.: Joba throws his 71st and final pitch of the evening. It is a wonderful pitch, an otherworldly pitch, a cruel pitch, a slider. This slider is to all sliders that preceded it what Alec Baldwin is to Java Man, what brie is to Kraft American singles. It goes for a called third strike and Lyle Overbay retreats dugout-ward, demoralized. On his way off the field, Joba tips his cap ever-respectfully to the fans, who respond by lapsing into euphoria-induced seizures. 8:29 p.m.: The verdict? Joba Rules. Postscript 8:38 p.m.: After the Yankees take 12 more overcaffeinated whacks at Halladay's elusive offerings, Ross Ohlendorf heads in from the bullpen to the strains of Elvis Costello's God Give Me Strength. His sink-free sinker fails to sink. The Yankees promptly surrender the two-run lead. 8:39 p.m.: Sports radio WFAN registers its first "we need Joba in the bullpen!" call. And so it goes. --

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