NEW YORK _ Last time around, A-Rod wanted an office. This time, he wants the whole team. Who's going to stop him?
With reports that Alex Rodriguez and his soon-to-be-wife Jennifer Lopez have hired JPMorgan Chase to raise capital for a possible bid to own the Mets, memories of Rodriguez's previous flirtation with Flushing begin to make a lot more sense.
Twenty years ago, the ex-Yankees slugger and childhood Met fan nearly suited up for the Amazin's, if only they would acquiesce to a simple list of demands. His then-agent Scott Boras presented the dowry A-Rod would be expecting: An office in Shea Stadium, his own personal marketing staff, a luxury box, a private jet, several billboards and a separate merchandise tent at spring training dedicated to branded A-Rod gear.
And that was when Rodriguez was a simple 24-year-old free agent. This time around they might have to name the borough after him.
Hard as it is to believe, Rodriguez may have even more leverage on the Mets now than he did in the winter of 2000. He's been through a lot: the steroid-tainted MVP awards, the championship ring, the lawsuit against Major League Baseball, the high-profile romance with J. Lo and a comeback story that turned him from a baseball pariah to an omnipresent bigwig.
The end result is an A-Rod almost fully rehabilitated in the public eye, richer than God, and the second-wealthiest person in his engagement. Meanwhile, the Wilpon family couldn't even sell the team without tripping over their own feet, leading the search for a buyer right into the COVID-19 shutdown.
If the mega diva and J. Lo were to own the Mets, Rodriguez wouldn't have to ask anyone to fulfill his list of self-absorbed demands. He would have the authority to roll out a red carpet every day he arrived at work. He would have the wherewithal to create an A-Rod-style circus at the newly renamed J-Rod Palace.
Move over Seaver Way. Google Maps only recognizes Alex Rodriguez Boulevard.
So we envisioned what a Mets world would look like if the most attention-seeking person on the planet installed his throne in the owners' suite.
A-Rod would take a chopper to the park every day, landing in center field as the grounds crew rushed to set up a helipad before and after lift off. He'd walk on a red carpet from center field to home plate before venturing into the Mets clubhouse, where players would be ready and waiting at their lockers for a high-five or pat on the back from their grinning owner.
He'd slip into his office, where a mini-fridge full of Presidente awaits. He'd sign-off on the starting lineup for that day, take multiple selfies at his desk, then join J. Lo on the field as she practices singing the National Anthem _ nationally televised games only, of course; J. Lo does not play SNY matinees.
Once the game begins, there would be more cameras pointed to the owners' suite than focused on the field. Pete Alonso, batting cleanup, crushes a grand slam on the first pitch. As per the new mandate A-Rod enforced, Alonso drops his bat and immediately points to the owners' suite before running the bases. Alonso knows that grand slam, and the rest of his homers, wouldn't be possible without A-Rod's mentorship.
But let's talk about that home run. It would sail to straightaway center field where the Home Run Apple is replaced with the Temple of Love. Inside that temple is an altar, with life-sized replicas of A-Rod and J. Lo locking hands and waving at the crowd. Every time a ball goes out of the park, white rose petals shower from the temple and cover the outfield grass. The grounds crew would take a couple of minutes cleaning up the mess.
The seventh-inning stretch rolls around and Mets fans' favorite sing-along-tradition, belting out the lyrics to the Italian melody "Luna Mezzo Mare" by Lou Monte, is replaced with an amped-up version of "Jenny from the Block." The jumbotron pans to the newly renamed Couples Corner (previously, the Coca Cola corner) where couples-only seating results in a reality-TV-worthy kiss-cam.
On "J-Rod Night," season-ticket holders must bring an A-Rod jersey and an old J. Lo concert ticket to enter the Palace. A biopic of A-Rod and J. Lo's journey is played on the jumbotron as fans take their seats. Players are forced to wear No. 13 jerseys during the game in honor of A-Rod. Concessions that night are limited to A-Rod and J.Lo's favorite foods and drinks _ salads and green smoothies. The first 13,000 fans receive a bobblehead of A-Rod proposing to J. Lo and a T-shirt of the power couple embracing each other.
By this point, it's late in the season and the Mets are two games back from a postseason berth. To ensure the team won't financially suffer and miss out on the playoffs from a potential A-Rod and J. Lo breakup, a bronze copy of their prenup is framed and displayed at the main entrance of J-Rod Palace.
The Mets fall short of the championship, but in this fantasy land, no one seems to mind because A-Rod and his merry men put together the most talented roster they could procure. It was a good shot, an entertaining season. Fans are just happy that J-Rod are the Mets owners. What else could they need?
