Who is clutch? Is Derek Jeter clutch? Ha ha! Just kidding. Everyone knows Derek Jeter is clutch. I was just testing you.
On Clutchiness
A short history of the men who know the answer to the question, “Who’s Clutch?”
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What about Alex Rodriguez? Is he clutch? Let me put it this way: Is the Pope Jewish? Of course he is not. The Pope is Catholic. And Alex Rodriguez is most assuredly not clutch.
Those are the easy cases. But what about Willie Bloomquist? Jeremy Hermida? Are they clutch? I heard Jay Bruce might be clutch, you say. How do you know? How does any of us know?
It’s not always easy to tell who’s clutch and who’s not clutch. Fortunately, there exists a tiny class of spiritual horoscopists who possess this special ability—a band of brothers who have passed their traditions down from generation to generation for more than a millennia. Every major city boasts at least one or two such men. They usually cover sports for the local paper, or talk on television during pitches.
Most clutch-seers are of divine blood, born with their peculiar aptitude. Some are taught their craft by grizzled old sportswriter-mediums. How does this transference take place? No one knows. The ceremonies are shrouded in secrecy. Scholars believe it may involve deep kissing and/or a honeybee-like “waggle dance.”
The first clutch-seers were persecuted by the simpletons who lived among them, and their powers were long sought after by envious kings and popes. Condemned as “sorcerers,” “mutants,” and “a-holes,” the clutch-seers (or “clutchies,” as they liked to be called) eventually moved underground, where they could hone their otherworldly skills away from the prying eyes of the “rationals,” a pejorative they used for anyone who didn’t understand clutchiness.
And there they remained for centuries. These were the Dark Ages, the time of the Great Unraveling, when mankind struggled to make sense of the world around him, and shunned superstition. “Science” and “looking things up to make sure they were true” were au courant, while the Clutchies’ way of doing things—extrapolating wildly from small samples, confirmation bias, and avoiding fancy foreign phrases like au courant—were suddenly out of fashion.
Then, finally, in a bloody war fought in press boxes and newsrooms, the clutch-seers re-established their rightful place in the world: as keepers of a dim flame, defenders of what “everyone knows.” Now tasked with dutifully writing down the words managers say after ballgames and telling rambling, moralistic stories in the middle of pitches, the clutch-seers were poised to influence new generations of fans and people who get angry at the radio.
Clutchies today enjoy unprecedented freedom in society, as well as mass adoration. But a new threat looms: a small but vicious band of computer jerks seeks to usurp the clutch-seers’ mysterious powers and spread their sick propaganda via a new invention called “web blogs.” To counteract these depraved loners, many clutchies have reluctantly taken to the internets, hoping to counter the rational insurgency and usher in a new age of magical thinking.
Godspeed, you stouthearted heroes.
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