Jose Canseco — slugger, steroids enthusiast, 21st-century performance artist — is trolling us. That much is obvious. But why, exactly, is he doing it? As I see Canseco robo-walking toward me one afternoon at a Newark ballpark, I have a feeling I'm about to find out.

"You're late," Canseco snarls.

I'm not late. I got here an hour early. This is typical. You feed reliable information into Jose Canseco (time of interview, name of reporter) and what pops out is a tweet announcing Al Gore's death. About that Twitter account, Jose …

"You're supposed to be restricted to just talking about the league and the team," Canseco snarls again.

I feel like I'm being trolled right now. But let's play along. Jose Canseco, 47, is the new designated hitter for Massachusetts's Worcester Tornadoes. The Tornadoes are an independent ballclub — a ragtag bunch of dead-enders — that have come to Newark to play the Bears. "You get a lot of guys fresh out of college who think they were the shit," says Tim Raines, the 52-year-old former major leaguer who's now the Bears' player personnel director. "Now, they're coming down to reality."

Canseco squeezing his eternally muscled, 6-foot-4, 260-pound frame into a gray Tornadoes road jersey feels like a put-on. Bears manager Ken Oberkfell, who played against Canseco in the 1989 World Series, notes that he has trouble laying off breaking balls. When I ask Danielle Dronet, owner of the Bears, how many fans Canseco will add to the gate tonight, she replies, "None."

I proceed cautiously with Mr. Tornado. In a recent tweet, Jose, what did you mean when you said you wanted to "juice the players up?".....