Chris Sabo was well into the second keg of Red Dog when he decided to make a move on the future Mrs. Jamie Kotsay. Sabo knew he’d need something fierce to make a good impression. This is what followed…
Sabo: So, uh, I think if I hook up a line from the gas grill to the pool house. I could create a sauna.
Jaime: Really?
Sabo: Well, I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night.
Jamie: ?
(crickets…)
The joke fell flatter than the Red Dog. Sabo pounded another. It would be a long, long pool party.
(Editor’s note: With a continental breakfast and free wifi, HI Express is a great place to sleep off a pool party bender. Sadly for Sabo, both HI Express’ treats were not offered in 1998.)
Rachel Marsden made out with Benito Santiago out by the Canseco estate’s garden shed, then stole his Oakleys and tried to auction them off on eBay.
Sadly, there were no bidders.
While future husband Mark Kotsay was busy finishing up his collegiate baseball career, a young Jamie Kotsay was at the party. Onlookers suggested that Mark is fortunate his wife didn’t wind up Jamie Sabo based on the chemistry witnessed between the leggy model and the bespectacled third baseman that fateful day.
(Photo via SbB)
At Jose’s insistence, the party was catered by a Japanese Pizza Hut. Jose said it was absolutely necessary, b/c “stupid-ass American Pizza Hut” doesn’t serve his favorite style of pizza (pictured above).
(Photo via Drawing for Food)
Clay Davis was just a junior Alderman in West Baltimore back in 1998, but man, could you imagine had he been at the party?
Shhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiitttt!
Word from unnamed sources in Bristol is that a heavy lobbying campaign is underway to name July 13-19 “Pool Party Week”. While on the surface it seems ridiculous, sources ask, is it any worse than Rivalry, Judgement, Bracketbuster and Stuart Baaaaybaaaaybaaaaaaaybay Scott Week?
Much has been made about Roger Clemens’ supposed appearance at Jose’s Pool Party, which is sad. There was so much more to the party than Roger. But since Roger is the centerpiece, it probably bears repeating what was the tipping point for him to attend.
After receiving Jose’s invite, he called to RSVP. He wouldn’t be making it. Jose sounded distraught. This followed…
Jose: Dude, you’re aren’t coming?
Roger: Sorry, rehabing.
Jose: But your wife…
Roger: Sorry Jose.
Jose: But the party is going to be so bad…so SINBAD!
Roger: WHAT! Sinbad will be there!?!?!
Jose: Yep.
Roger: See you Friday.
Four days later Roger’s Ford Bronco would pull up.
Make no mistake, Jose would do anything for Jessica. And when it involved Jessica and a pool party, he would give 200%. So when she said she wanted the party to be decadent, Jose did what Jose did best…misunderstand. A few phone calls, some empty promises and five hours later, decathletes Dan O’Brien and Dave Johnson showed up. Chris Sabo look unimpressed.
As some guests started to leave the pool party early, a distraught Jose knew that the message on his pager was, in fact, true:
“Dude, Hooters girls with SWAT team weapons at Sarasota Hooters!! Get your ass down here!”
Jose knew he would have to turn up the dial on his flagging pool party to keep the guests entertained.
How did he do it? More to come…
Jose wanted to kick the pool party off with a Flyin’ Elvis parachuting in to drop off a shrimp and snow crab platter, but the unexplained dearth of Elvises in South Florida left him with no option but to settle on having Kelvis (Kentucky Elvis) stop by with a cutout Dickie V.
The pool party invite specifically said, “Drinks will be provided”. Jesse Barfield took that to mean that the party would still need some Nutella. Jesse Barfield and his two jars of Nutella never made it past the driveway. “Private party, dude.”
Jose wanted to put a sign like this above his doorway for the party, but fortunately for everyone, Jessica intervened.
(photo via Buzzmachine)
It’s this kind of passion about women (albeit women’s basketball) that Jose wanted to see out of all the pool party guests.
Darn tootin’!!!
(via Kentucky Sports Radio)
This site is in no way affiliated with Jose Canseco. We're just a fan of his pool parties, his taste in fashion, and his steroid-fueled mega-dingers.
