I admit: when Jools Tavarez showed up on our doorstep, I only knew a couple things about him. He once punched a phone, and he served up that Mark Bellhorn home run that clanged off Pesky’s Pole and effectively changed the course of the 2004 World Series.
But since he’s been here, I must say, the cat’s grown on me. At first — especially after he decided to belt Joey Gaithright during a motherflippin’ spring training game, I fancied him a sort of thug. But the more I see of him, the more I read of him, the more I think he’s the cult hero I’ve been desperately searching for since Millar went packing.
Grabbing his teammates’ asses during Fenway Opening Day. That rambling interview with the Globe where he said he wanted to get married so he’d have someone to do his laundry. The way he kept tap-tap-tapping Matsuzaka’s shoulder during Sunday night’s game as if to say, “listen, buddy, what I’ve got to say is f–king important.”
I want more. I need more. And for my hunger for all things Tavarez to be satiated, the guys gotta start winning games. Because that will keep him around. For more.
So tonight, oh Gods of baseball, please give Jools the strength to outduel Roy Halladay. We promise, no phone shall suffer again so long as you let him stick around.
