"The Octopus."
The veteran righthander, currently pitching winter ball in the Dominican Republic, has six
fingers on his pitching hand. In another life, he must have been one of Ernest Hemingway's
multitoed cats. Presumably, in an era when the circle-changeup is a trendy pitch, El Pulpo trumps that with the infinity-changeup, accomplished by
making side-by-side circles.
The nickname is not quite accurate. Octopi have eight arms. Alfonseca has just two arms and 12 fingers. Yep, he has six digits on his left hand, as well.
But wait, there's more. After learning Antonio Alfonseca also has six toes on each foot, I giddily began running through the Phillies' uniform numbers.
Please . . . Please . . .
Please . . . Be there.
After watching the first 4 calamitous hours of Jack Bauer's romp through the sixth day of "24," I was hoping no Phils player has been assigned the magic number that would so perfectly match the number of Alfonseca's fingers and toes.
Twenty-four is a fairly common baseball number worn most prominently by Willie Mays and a slew of Say Hey wannabes.
And it apparently is available. Alfonseca and Mexican League free-agent outfielder Karim
Garcia must pass physicals before general manager Pat Gillick can formally assign them to roster spots and uniform numbers.
For Alfonseca, No. 24 is not a typical reliever's number, but it would be one of the most descriptive in baseball history. Hey, no need for pitching coach Rich Dubee to pick up the bullpen phone - just wave one of those fake octopi.
The Phillies assembled the
media at the Money Pit's
Diamond Club at High Noon
yesterday to catch everybody up on the breaking news. They currently have six starting pitchers and expect to contend for the postseason. After a meet-and-greet-not-much-to-eat session
attended by a few players, including Chris Coste, Adam Eaton, Wes Helms, Ryan Madson, Matt Smith and Shane Victorino, the Phillies announced that centerfielder Crash Rowand has avoided arbitration. Aaron signed a 1-year deal for a base salary of $4.35 million.
I always regard the Phillies
calendar as an item of interest. It's not as intriguing a barometer as the reviewing-stand pecking order the former Soviet Union used to trot out for the May Day Parade each year. But over time it has been a fair measure of which players, beyond the obvious, are mortal locks to spend an entire season wearing the pinstripes.
Pat Burrell is Mr. January.
I was not surprised the team's highest-paid player was included in the calendar. But I figured him presiding over November or December, when he could have been dumped without messing up a perfectly good baseball month.
Not that January is a great baseball month . . .
