這篇本文下面有一篇回應蠻有意思的 不長　貼出來給各位看看 The greatest franchise in sports history is sinking towards oblivion. As if they never realized Alex Rodriguez is the anti-Jeter.......they seem to not realize they are creating a culture of mini-A-Rods, starting with Chamberlain. Joba has turned into a circus act.....what's worse is that he seems to relish in it. Nothing good comes of these things. As if Alex is not enough of a circus himself, why not add more clowns to the act. Poor Derek Jeter. I feel for him. Chamberlain is being treated with such kiddie gloves its disgusting. What happened to the days when I guy could break his hand and continue to play without media fanfare and hype....old school hard nosed ball. Last guy I saw do this is Derek Jeter. Those days for the Yankees are over. The Yankees and their fans will be relegated to watching A-Rods HR chase......that's all they'll have to cheer for over the next decade. Is this what they really wanted? Seems like it. ※ 引述《leddy (耿秋)》之銘言： : Joba還沒投, 投球的結果就出爐了, 太長了沒時間翻, 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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