CLEVELAND — Four hours before first pitch, José Ramírez, the face of the franchise and instigator to the stars, is singing Daft Punk’s earworm, “One More Time,” as strikingly off-key as possible. He intentionally butchers the simple hook as he leans back in the black leather chair at his corner locker. Advertisement Josh Naylor walks past the JBL PartyBox speaker in the center of the room and triggers the DJ sound effect, which prompts at least one teammate to fist pump like he’s raving on a sticky dance floor at a Jersey Shore nightclub.
Emmanuel Clase is FaceTiming family back home in rural Río San Juan, D.R., and the clucking of chickens would echo throughout the clubhouse if not for Ramírez’s disharmony.
One more time! Tyler Freeman and David Fry are battling on a Mario Kart arcade machine, an undercard match before Ramírez — who possesses unparalleled skill at swerving Bowser’s stout frame around turtle shells and banana peels — begins challenging teammates for more money than they’ve earned in the big leagues. One more time! Austin Hedges strides into the room wearing a red, self-hemmed crop top that reveals his bellybutton and a tease of the shag carpet that covers his chest, and clutches a leather-bound notebook full of scouting reports and other secrets. One more time! And then silence — save for the speaker, now shuffling through a Bob Marley medley.
The bustling ceases. The bodies vanish. The room is empty.
Catchers, pitchers, coache.