At home with the Cansecos

Tense energy filled the room. It was like the Canseco inquisition.

Jose Canseco had arisen from his slumber to find something sitting in the middle of the dining room floor. It was his dog's business, No. 1 and No. 2.

Before he got there, the room was moving eerily normal. One person entertained company, another ate a bag of chips and another fooled around on a laptop. And of course the perpetrator, Bruce, was acting normal. He was lying on the floor, his bold gray coat touching the terracotta tile.

In most households, Bruce would be to blame. But this wasn't like most households, it was Canseco's.

The large open space screams Southwestern. The lamp shade above the dinner table is made of faux cactus, the longhorns above the hallway entrance stretch nearly 10 feet, the stuffed bison head above the couches is absurdly large and the room is sprinkled with bull skulls, ropes and a green acoustic guitar.

Everyone else was in the kitchen, sitting at the large curving island made of marble. But Canseco was standing at the sliding glass door on the other side of the room, about to pull the handle.

“I bet you anything someone locked this door,” Canseco said.

He was right. Didn't open.

So Canseco turned inquisitor, asking the three men in the kitchen if they locked the door.

“I'll ask you again, did you lock the door?”

He was the alpha male. But headshakes and denial, that's all he got.

“Whoever locked this door has to clean this up,” Canseco said.

Alas, it didn't work and Canseco turned cleanup crew. Canseco was mad, but it wasn't Bruce's fault. If the door was unlocked, Bruce would have opened it and handled his business outside. Dozens of streaks left by Bruce's wet nose cascade halfway up the glass, evidence of successful romps to the outdoors.

“People, people, people. When are you going to learn?” Canseco said. “One thing I can't stand is stupidity. That's my pet peeve, right there.”

Bruce is a Great Dane-Weimaraner mix, possesses keen yellow eyes and four long legs. And it's safe to say he's the love of Canseco's life.

“He's my son. He's smarter than most people.”

After cleaning up the mess, Canseco turned Sherlock Holmes. There were plenty of suspects to choose from, aside from the three amigos hanging out in the kitchen. Roughly a dozen people were staying at the 10,000-square-foot house that day.

Jose Canseco lives with his identical twin brother, Ozzie, and two more members of the Yuma Scorpions, the independent baseball team which lured him to the desert. Roger Clark, the team's pitching coach, and Jose Melendez, the team's general manager, are the other housemates.

Add in a few vacationing family members and a few hopeful prospects trying to make the roster ­— you have a full house. But Jose Canseco has singled out a lead suspect in the door-locking case.

“Knowing the psychology of everyone that's in this house – I'm an analyst when it comes to psychology — it was Roger Clark.”

A people person

Jose Canseco is proud of his people-reading abilities. He'll tell you all about it.

“I think you develop it dealing with thousands of people your whole life. You keep forgetting I'm going to be 47. But not just that, do you realize I've traveled the whole world many times? The things I've done? Pro fighting, pro wrestling, reality shows, baseball, dated models, superstars, the limelight.

“I've been everywhere. Done this, done that 10 times over. There's not much I haven't done.”

But Clark was nowhere to be found. There were plenty of other distractions in the house.

It's a grandiose three-story home dressed in a yellow, Southwest style. The cubic shape is pierced by several large wooden support beams that poke out the sides, topped with a terrace on the roof. The lower floors boast a movie theater and a game room with pinball machines and pingpong tables, while the backyard is built for parties, featuring a pool with a waterfall and a covered barbecue patio area.

“I just wish that house was here, next to the stadium,” Melendez said. “We should just pick it up on a forklift and put it here.”

To get to work every day, Melendez has to leave the gravel driveway, take a left on to the dirt road, jump on the paved ones and then weave his way past Yuma Proving Ground, through a stretch of orchards and fields before reaching town. In all, it's nearly a 40-mile voyage to Desert Sun Stadium.

“I already ran out of gas once,” Melendez said. “After you leave Martinez Lake, the next gas station is about 18 miles. I didn't make it. (My brother and I) had to push (the car) about a mile.”

But the Cansecos enjoy living near Martinez Lake, an oasis away from the baseball field. Shirtless and shoeless patrons move in and out of the general store at nearby Fisher's Landing, where cheap beer makes up a majority of the drink selection.

Trucks drive by slowly, towing boats full of people in bikinis and board shorts. An ad posted on the door promotes an upcoming bikini contest, which may feature the Cansecos as judges. Life is good.

“It's far, but look at what I've got,” Jose said. “It's private, beautiful. You got the lake right there. I don't mind the drive.”

Not only that, but he lives with a gourmet chef.

“I try,” Ozzie said. “I cook basic stuff like pastas, I throw some chicken in there. Nothing too crazy.”

Above all, the Cansecos are enjoying each other. Before moving to Yuma, Jose lived in Los Angeles and Ozzie lived in Tampa Bay. This is the first time they've shared the same roof since Ozzie briefly lived with Jose several years ago.

“It's a dream come true,” Ozzie said. “It's a great situation to just reconnect with Jose, spend some time with him and play some ball. We used to play together as kids on the same team. But we haven't been able to do that since we were 12 years old. … Just a fantastic time we're going to relive now.”

Ozzie looks like Jose and sounds like Jose, but he moves like Ozzie. He doesn't have the occasional tick to flinch his right arm like his brother, nor the same erratic blink patterns. There's a calmer sense about Ozzie.

Crazy from the heat

Asked what it's like to live with the Cansecos, Melendez laughed and simply offered, “It's interesting.”

With their deep tans, similar facial structures and impressive builds, it's easy to see why people get the Cansecos mixed up. Even the Yuma youth can't tell them apart.

After a game on Tuesday, a kid yelled to Ozzie, “Hey, Mr. Canseco, are you going to be back on ‘The Apprentice'?” Obviously, the inquiry was meant for Jose, who starred on the reality TV show developed by Donald Trump.

Earlier this year, Ozzie posed as Jose at a celebrity boxing event and the promoter cried foul, while the Cansecos said they held up their end of the bargain. Then there was the scene at their introductory press conference in Yuma, when Ozzie greeted the crowd pretending to be Jose. After a brief moment, the real Jose Canseco appeared from a back room, chuckling and smiling.

“You guys can tell us apart, right?” Jose said.

Later in the press conference, Jose complained about the Yuma heat. Granted, the room was a little warm that day, but it was only 90 degrees outside. Yuma will be 20 degrees hotter by July.

“The first thing I want to emphasize is: someone put the air on in here,” Jose said. “Aren't you guys hot?”

It wasn't the only time he moaned about the heat. After watching an all-day tryout at Desert Sun Stadium earlier this month, Canseco made his way up to the press box. He was hot and hungry, not a good combo. Upon entering the press box, which had the shutters drawn, he said, “It's like a darkhouse in here.”

So a team official went to open the shutters, but Jose stopped him: “Don't do that, it will get too hot.” It was a lose-lose situation for the team official, who threw up his hands in defeat.

Though his actions may say otherwise, Jose said he loves the heat.

“I wish it was 200 degrees. I'd live on the sun if they'd let me.”

Out and about

While they've been busy putting together the baseball team, which they will coach and play for this summer, the Cansecos haven't spent much time out on the town. But if you want to find Jose or Ozzie, your best bet is to catch them at Buffalo Wild Wings, their favorite eatery, or at Cocopah Casino. Both are sponsors of the Scorpions.

They also like to hit the links. Given its location next to Desert Sun Stadium, the Cansecos' favorite golf course is Desert Hills. Occasionally, they'll try to sneak in a round before baseball takes over their day.

It's been about six weeks since the Cansecos arrived in Yuma, but they can see themselves settling down here after the season.

“This is home for us now,” Jose said. “We don't know what's going to happen. We may stay here year-round and we may develop some type of hitting instructional school out here. Who knows? We'll see how it goes.”

He said he would like to open a massive state-of-the-art indoor training facility, albeit with some financial help. For years, Canseco said he's always been teaching the game, whether it be softball or baseball.

Say what you will about his off-the-field exploits — his alleged fling with Madonna in the early '90s and his latest public obsession with Lady Gaga, proposing to the modern-day Madonna on Twitter — Jose Canseco was once a world-class ballplayer.

He was named the Most Valuable Player in Major League Baseball in 1988 after becoming the first man to hit 40 home runs and steal 40 bases in a season. He won a world championship with the Oakland Athletics a year later. But Canseco said he can offer more than baseball advice, he can offer life advice.

“I was in the Major Leagues 17 years, set all these kind of records, played with the best. At one point, I was stated to be the best player in the world. So in that sense, in the sports world related to baseball, I've done it all. When you're talking about a cornucopia of information, that's me. In every realm: the good, the bad and ugly.”

Yearning for the big leagues

But he and MLB have no relationship any longer. In 2005, he penned the best seller, “Juiced,” a book detailing rampant steroid use in the game, including his own. It has since defamed several high-profile players and turned Canseco into a villain of sorts in MLB circles.

In the years since, he has repeatedly labeled the book as one of his life's biggest regrets.

“Absolutely. I wish I would have never wrote that damn book, ‘Juiced.' It destroyed my life, totally. Completely and utterly. Even though it was 100 percent truth.”

Canseco misses MLB and its affiliates. Listening to him, it sounds he's a bit jealous of other former steroid users like Mark McGwire, who is currently an assistant coach for the St. Louis Cardinals. At this point, Canseco just wants in.

Beyond his exclusion from MLB, he said the league has further affected other opportunities, like movie parts and a chance to play in Puerto Rico.

“There are three things you don't mess with in this world — no matter how right you are: politics, religion and Major League Baseball. And I'm not laughing when I say that. … To me, one of the most powerful forces in this world is Major League Baseball. You have no idea what they can do.”

Regret the book as he may, Canseco is hoping the luster of “Juiced” hasn't been lost. Recently, Bass bats company introduced a line of softball bats called “Juiced.” The barrel of the bat is covered with his signature and the No. 33, his jersey number, while the phrase “It's juiced so you don't have to be” is emblazoned at the top.

He appears to be a man of many interests. It seems he's always trying his hand in something other than baseball. This is a man who once charged people $50 a minute to talk to him on a hotline, with some of the money being donated to a charity for minor league baseball players.

Health and happiness

For his latest gig, Canseco is working on a shortcut to the fountain of youth — and it will come in pill form. As a 46-year-old with a colossal physique, Canseco wants to share his secrets.

“I dedicate myself to being extremely healthy. I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't do any of that crap. … I have been working on some anti-aging things that are completely legal. I've been testing it for two and a half, three years now. Eventually, I will come out with it on the market.”

Canseco is on his own for this one — no help from a pharmaceutical company and no help from any doctors.

“It's a testing process. It's hit or miss if it works for you,” he said. “You do online investigation. There are a lot of anti-aging natural fruits, liquids, solids out there that if you could combine together — depending on your blood type — will work exceptionally well.”

That's not the only thing he's working on. Canseco is trying to find a suitor for his reality TV show, which he has already started filming.

So if you're walking around Yuma and you see Jose Canseco wearing a pair of oversized glasses, smile. You may be on his candid camera. Recently, the Cansecos received a shipment of glasses with small cameras above the nosepiece.

“Jose's become quite the entrepreneur,” Ozzie said. “He realized quite awhile back that there's not just baseball out there. He realized that there's other stuff you can do, and he's been very creative in terms of trying to grasp and understand other things.”

On this day, Jose is looking on the Internet to find how to switch out the lenses of the glasses so he can wear them around the clock. Unfortunately, the Internet is slow. Has been since the cable guy changed some wires for the TV.

For some reason, this makes the impulsive Jose Canseco think about Harold Camping's recent famed prophecy about the Rapture occurring May 21.

“Today, somebody told me something weird's happening. The world's supposed to end, I guess. Are we ghosts? Let me see.”

He touched someone's knee. Still reality. Still Jose Canseco.