Duaner’s DS’s

Duane started a band after he was summarily washed out of baseball due to being a brokedick with little talent. Here I brushed up on my journalistic skills and decided to do the man a favor and give him some PR:

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Duaner's Dirty Sanchezes
Getting' Down N' DIRTY in S.F.

Recently, I had the dubious honor of catching up with the Dirty Sanchezes. It's no easy feat tracking them down, either. They all live in some hippie-ish creaking house in some hippie-ish Frisco district (which part of Frisco isn't?) When I pull up to the address their fearless leader gave me, I recognize it as some bungalow that's showing its' age hard. You get the feeling that a hell of a lot of counterculture aficionados have domiciled here at one time or another since the Decade of Peace and Love…the Sixties.

The fearless leader? When he pulls open the door at the top of the crumbling steps, I instantly know who he is. He's a squat body that's getting squatter and squatter. Protruding beer gut rapidly betraying him. Bald spot right in the center of his dome. Christ, it's fuckin' Homer Simpson. No, wait, it's Duane Reeder…former catcher for the Giants and now leader of this motley crew (no, not the band that put the Eighties to shame). He prefers to be called Duaner. But he's friendly just the same, and I follow him into the living room where instantly my nostrils are bombarded with a shitload of ganja, a shitload of hashish, and a shitload of incense. Needless to say, the incense ain't quite concealing the doobage so well. All the members of the DS's are lounging on couches and either toking or horseplaying.

Their music is nothing short of eclectic, if not downright strange—a mixture of ska/country/punk/new wave/white boy frat rap with of course a generous touch of indie rock. It's like eating chicken soup with beans. It will give you the runs from hell, but it's supposed to be cathartic, so hey, it's all good.

"We love to give each other…Dirty Sanchezes!" an animated Duaner is saying to me when he describes his band. "We rock it the Dirty Sanchez way because we love the vibe and we love our Giants!"

Ohhhhhhh-kay.

Duaner, of course, is the former Giants reject who lasted four seasons as a backup catcher. "Catcher", of course, has an altogether different connotation in Frisco, but I don't think it matters to him.

The horseplay gets more animated. "Dogpile!," shouts Duaner, and all the DS crew starts piling on one another right there on the rug, dry-humping each other like dogs in heat. You've got to be there to believe it. Is this gonna be Dirty Sanchez time with me being forced to watch? Evidently, they have minimal sense of decorum, however, and they slowly untangle after what seems like forever. Duaner emerges from the bottom with a smile plastered on his face a mile wide. Oooh-gah!!!