Coco Crisp went cuckoo, but it wasn't for Cocoa Puffs.
Instead, Crisp, doing his best impersonation of Roy Jones Jr., was busy throwing haymakers at Tampa Bay Rays pitcher Jeff Shields.
Proving he has more than a knuckleball, Shields went for the K.O. with what looked like an unavoidable knuckle-sandwich. But after seeing the bench-clearing bonanza on ESPN, I was impressed with the way Crisp avoided a punch that would have sent Kimbo Slice sprawling to the canvas. Maybe Crisp should consider turning in his bat and glove for a set of 12 ouncers - the guy has some talent.
Hey, I have a great idea: With news of Floyd Mayweather Jr.'s retirement, professional boxing has just become that much more irrelevant. And with the ungraceful decline of titan-sized match-ups and a falling fan base, who better than Crisp, who's name is marketable by nature, to single-handedly save boxing?
With the lightning-fast hand-eye coordination needed to bat effectively, Crisp already has much of what's needed to be a legendary boxer. Toss in his flawless footwork and that elusiveness he displayed at Fenway Park and the guy's a legitimate contender. All that's left to do is ink a contract with promoter Don King. Imagine a King-Crisp connection, and you can almost hear "ca-ching" in the background. Not only does King-Crisp sound like a delicious box of cereal, but Crisp would become an instant hit - somebody people could root for, an underdog. Crisp would become a sweeter version of "Sugar" Ray Leonard.
Knowing the repercussions of a bench clearing brawl begs the question, why? Why did Crisp risk getting suspended? What caused him to crack? Was it really the wild pitch that barely scathed his ankle? Or was it something deeper, something lingering below the surface? I have a theory. Crisp was tired of being overcast by the shadow of "Big Papi" David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez being Manny Ramirez. With Ramirez having just reached 500 home runs and Ortiz being the face of the franchise, Crisp needed an excuse to get some media attention. And by golly, if he had to do the unthinkable and fight, that's just a sacrifice he had to make. It worked. He was on ESPN, dozens of articles were written about him and I'm wasting valuable space in the Lobo writing about him.
Get content from The Daily Lobo delivered to your inbox
Nonetheless, Crisp has become a commodity, a household name. He'll become a word in everybody's pocket slanguage dictionary. People will walk down the street and be like, "Dude, this little punk was dogging me, so I went totally Crisp on him."
Companies looking to cash in on his marketability toward the teenage pop culture crowd would be smart to sign Crisp as their spokesman. A perfect fit: Kellogg's should sign Crisp to advertise Coco Crisp, which I might add, isn't as good as Cocoa Puffs or Cocoa Pebbles. But if Crisp was on the front of the box, I'd change my preferences and buy that stuff up. EA Sports might want to add Crisp to their list of boxers in their next release of Fight Night. Shoot, they could even give him a special punch called the Chocolate Chunk Cheap Shot.
So, I ask you, Mr. Crisp, if you happen to stumble upon this column, consider the switch. And no, I'm not talking about becoming a switch-hitter. Rather, listen to your inhibitions and let your passions compel you. You'd be a bona fide star. I mean, who wouldn't want to hear: "And in the blue corner, out of Boston, Mass., the former baseball player turned brawler, and still undefeated champion of the world, Cocooooooo Crisp!"?
