Josh Q. Public:All of a sudden I saw sheriff John Brown. Aiming to shoot me down. So I shot. I shot. I shot him down and I say: If I am guilty I will pay. -Bob Marley
Public Service Announcement: OK, here we go! Can we say it now? Huh, can we? Can we say Jose Reyes is now the best shortstop in New York City. I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips, I’m from New York, New York. I got a semi-automatic that spits next time if you talk, you talk. Jose Reyes is from New York, New York. Jose Reyes got a hundred clips in his semi-automatic. Firing at will. Firing when ready grizzly. And it seems to me, he’s ready all the time, grizzly. Ready Freddy, now go cat go. This cat goes. Goes cat goes. Reyes already has eighteen stolen bases on the year. He finished with sixty-four steals last year. He stole sixty the year before that. Imagine that. Strawberries and whipped cream, know what I mean? Imagine that. It doesn’t hurt that since spring training last year, he has worked with future Hall of Famer Rickey Henderson. Rickey Henderson, the all-time king of stolen bases. Jo-se Jo-se, Jo-se Jo-se! Ya ya, we know. Jeter’s got the rings. What means the world to you, diamond rings, shining things. But that was yesterday. Suddenly. I’m not half the man I used to be. There’s a shadow hanging over me. Oh, yesterday came suddenly. Not for Senor Reyes. Not for Professor Reyes. Let’s learn some Spanish with Professor Reyes. Shall we? Jugador de beisbol de Abril. You know what that means boys and girls? Huh, do ya? It means National League Player of the Month. That’s what that means. Well sorta. It means Reyes finished the month of April with a .356 average. It means Reyes finished the month of April with seventeen stolen bases. It means Reyes finished the month of April with five triples. Get the papers, get the papers, get the papers. And to think he almost wasn’t a Met. Yup, it’s true. When spittin’ Bobby Alomar came to New York, Jose almost left. You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille. He didn’t leave. He’s still a Met. Meet the Mets. Meet the Mets. Step right up and greet the Mets! Bring your kiddies, bring your wife. Guaranteed to have the time of your life. Jose’s having the time of his life. You Bet Your Life! Say the secret word and win a prize. Hooray for Captain Spaulding, the African explorer. He brought his name undying fame, and that is why we say: Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! Hooray for Jose! Is there a more exciting player anywhere right now than Jose Reyes? He could very well hit twenty-five bombs. Spanish bombs rock the province. I’m hearing music from another time. Hooray for Jose! He could very well drive in one-hundred runs. Son, you’re gonna drive me t’ drinkin’ if you don’t quit drivin’ that hot rod Lincoln. Hooray for Jose! He could very well score 140 runs and steal seventy bases. He could very well win a Gold Glove. He could very well be the best player in beisbol.
Public Acknowledgements: New York Daily News, Joel Sherman, Ja Rule, Carl Perkins, R. Kelly, Cam’ron, Beatles, Goodfellas, Julius Marx, The Clash, Charlie Ryan and the Livingston Brothers and Tom Verducci.
Josh Q. Public:I was feeling insecure, you might not love me any more. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m sorry that I made you cry. I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m just a jealous guy. -John Lennon
Public Service Announcement: OK, here we go! Smell it? Ooooo Oooo that smell. Can you smell that smell? Smell’s like baseball. Don’t it? I live for this. Big trouble. Big Trouble in Little China. Big trouble up in the Boogie Down. This Red Sox fan loves it. All of it. The sound bytes coming out of Legends Field sound more like an episode of General Hospital than a professional baseball team. Back biting. Cat fighting. He said, she said. She said, you don’t understand what I said. I said, no, no, no, you’re wrong. Where’s Crash Davis when you need him: “We gotta play ‘em one day at a time…I’m just happy to be here and hope I can help the ballclub…I just wanta give it my best shot and, Good Lord willing, things’ll work out.” There is no joy in Mudville this spring. No reason to sing. They should just thow the towel into the ring.
First there was was the perceived slighting of Bernie Williams. Bernie Baseball. Fifteen years on the job. Left hanging on the wall. Looking for his next port of call. Then there was Mariano Rivero. Big Mo. Fireman extraordinaire. Big Mo feeling disrespected. Big Mo demanding a contract extension before the end of his current contract. Lacking all kinds of tact. Let’s out an intriguing fact: He’d even play for the Red Sox. Wooo doggie! Then there was Bullwinkle vs. Carla Pavano. Pavano hasn’t pitched in the bigs since June of 2005. Bad case of the hurtsies. Parading around in his skirtsies. I can’t remember the last time I saw him in pinstripe shirtsies. Pavano entering the third year of a four-year, $40 million contract. Pavano only making 17 starts, going 4-6 with a 4.77 ERA. Bullwinkle is none to happy. Mussina hasn’t got time for the pain: “When one guy is out there playing the game despite whatever is going on and somebody else is not, that’s how teammates get bad tastes in their mouths. As another starting pitcher who hasn’t been 100 percent for all of the last two years, I know what it takes to be able to go out there and pitch, and I know when you can’t go out there and pitch. And sometimes it’s a fine line, but I think after 15 years I kind of know where the line is…It didn’t look good. From a player’s and a teammate’s standpoint, it didn’t look good. Was everything just coincidence over and over again? I don’t know.” Yikes! And now there’s this. A-Broad vs. Jeter. Fredo vs. Michael. Burt vs. Ernie. Yesterday Alex threw Derek under the bus. Not to say as I blame him. Alex was under the bus all last season and Jeter refused to pull him out. He just lounged about. About as helpful as a brussel sprout. Does it matter who’s right? I’m loving this spring of discontent. For Red Sox fans it’s heaven sent. We’re loving what’s going on under the Yankees circus tent. Ooooo Oooo that smell. Can you smell that smell? Smell’s like baseball. Don’t it? I live for this.
josh q. public. For the public, by The Public. Irreverent sports opinion from a Bostonian in New York. The one blog to read, when you’re reading more than one. Good to the last drop!
worked with future Hall of Famer Rickey Henderson. Rickey Henderson, the all-time king of stolen bases. Jo-se Jo-se, Jo-se Jo-se! Ya ya, we know. Jeter’s got the rings. What means the world to you, diamond rings, shining things. But that was yesterday. Suddenly. I’m not half the man I used to be. There’s a shadow hanging over me. Oh, yesterday came suddenly. Not for Senor Reyes. Not for Professor Reyes. Let’s learn some Spanish with Professor Reyes. Shall we? Jugador de beisbol de Abril. You know what that means boys and girls? Huh, do ya? It means National League Player of the Month. That’s what that means. Well sorta. It means Reyes finished the month of April with 
a .356 average. It means Reyes finished the month of April with seventeen stolen bases. It means Reyes finished the month of April with five triples. Get the papers, get the papers, get the papers. And to think he almost wasn’t a Met. Yup, it’s true. When spittin’ Bobby Alomar came to New York, Jose almost left. You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille. He didn’t leave. He’s still a Met. Meet the Mets. Meet the Mets. Step right up and greet the Mets! Bring your 
kiddies, bring your wife. Guaranteed to have the time of your life. Jose’s having the time of his life. You Bet Your Life! Say the secret word and win a prize. Hooray for Captain Spaulding, the African explorer. He brought his name undying fame, and that is why we say: Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! Hooray for Jose! Is there a more exciting player anywhere right now than Jose Reyes? He could very well hit twenty-five bombs. Spanish bombs rock the province. I’m hearing music from another time. Hooray for Jose! He could very well drive in one-hundred runs. Son, you’re gonna drive me t’ drinkin’ if you don’t quit drivin’ that hot rod Lincoln. Hooray for Jose! He could very well score 140 runs and steal seventy bases. He could very well win a Gold Glove. He could very well be the best player in beisbol. 
First there was was the perceived slighting of Bernie Williams. Bernie Baseball. Fifteen years on the job. Left hanging on the wall. Looking for his next port of call. Then there was Mariano Rivero. Big Mo. Fireman extraordinaire. Big Mo feeling disrespected. Big Mo demanding a contract extension before the end of his current contract. Lacking all kinds of tact. Let’s out an intriguing fact: He’d even play for the Red Sox. Wooo doggie! Then there was Bullwinkle vs. Carla Pavano. Pavano 
hasn’t pitched in the bigs since June of 2005. Bad case of the hurtsies. Parading around in his skirtsies. I can’t remember the last time I saw him in pinstripe shirtsies. Pavano entering the third year of a four-year, $40 million contract. Pavano only making 17 starts, going 4-6 with a 4.77 ERA. Bullwinkle is none to happy. Mussina hasn’t got time for the pain: “When one guy is out there playing the game despite whatever is going on and somebody else is not, that’s how teammates get bad tastes in their mouths. As another starting pitcher who hasn’t been 100 percent for all of the last two years, I know what it takes to be able to go out there and pitch, 
and I know when you can’t go out there and pitch. And sometimes it’s a fine line, but I think after 15 years I kind of know where the line is…It didn’t look good. From a player’s and a teammate’s standpoint, it didn’t look good. Was everything just coincidence over and over again? I don’t know.” Yikes! And now there’s this. A-Broad vs. Jeter. Fredo vs. Michael. Burt vs. Ernie. Yesterday Alex threw Derek under the bus. Not to say as I blame him. Alex was under the bus all last season and Jeter refused to pull him out. He just lounged about. About as helpful as a brussel sprout. Does it matter who’s right? I’m loving this spring of discontent. For Red Sox fans it’s heaven sent. We’re loving what’s going on under the Yankees circus tent. Ooooo Oooo that smell. Can you smell that smell? Smell’s like baseball. Don’t it? I live for this.
