Almost the Only Orderly Thing in a Very Unorderly World

And then there were a series of tableaux, some familiar – Jeter’s raised arms and yell, Rivera’s grin, Posada’s near-skip towards the mound – and some new: Mark Teixeira’s fiercely goofy expression as he jumped up and down, Nick Swisher tearing wide-eyed and open-mouthed towards the infield, Francisco Cervelli hopping around like a caffeinated bunny, Joe Girardi’s gaunt face an open book of anticipation and then, for just a moment, pure, unguarded happiness.

That's from my Bronx Banter writeup of last night's Yankees World Series win. I hope I did it justice - not the game, which was pleasant but not a classic, but the outcome. The last time the Yankees won the Series, I was a college sophomore - I watched the games with my Mets fan friend Dan, on my common room coach - and it had never even crossed my mind to write about baseball. Of course I understand that nine years isn't a long time, not even close, between sports championships; but in an individual life it is a pretty major chunk of time. And "time" is my theme for the day, since the Yankees clinched about 10 minutes before my birthday.

Anyway, I'll just cling to the Series for another day or two, because it's going to be a long, cold, baseball-free winter. But I'm going to keep the blog going throughout - Mets and Yankees and general baseball news, plus maybe some movie and book reviews to pass the time - and while I haven't figured out the details yet, I'm even planning to move off Blogger and onto a real site at some point in the next couple of months.

For now, though (look away, Mets fans):

One More for the Money; Also Facial Hair

My writeup of last night's game is up at the Banter.

In other vitally important news (via Rob Neyer), I am quite pleased to see that Diamondbacks reliever Clay Zaveda - who also has a fine baseball name - has won the American Mustache Institute's coveted "Robert Goulet Memorial Mustached American of the Year." It is well deserved. The Phillies and, especially, the Cardinals, among other teams, could learn a lot from this guy about proper facial hair technique. (Last night a friend of mine expressed the opinion, unprompted by me, that Jayson Werth "looks like a human rattail").

To summarize:

This is how it's done.

No.

No.

Absolutely not.

A THOUSAND TIMES NO.

At Least It's a More Creative Chant Than "Phillies Suck"

My writeup of last night's game, which perhaps predictably half-turned into an essay on Pedro Martinez, is up at the Banter.

This seems like too short of a post to put up all by itself, so: bonus dog photo.

Hopefully I'll get a Name of the Week post up later.

The Cliff Lee Affair

There's not much point in urging fans to relax, to not freak out so much about one bad game... after all, isn't irrationally investing our emotions sort of the point of baseball fandom? There's nothing logical about the enterprise to begin with.

Still, it's always a little startling how quickly one game can flip the general fan mood (as measured, highly unscientifically, by talking to a few friends, reading a bunch of blog comments, and checking in with the huge Yankees fan who works the late shift at the deli on the corner). Cliff Lee's performance last night - which was not only great, but also just so Steve McQueen cool - seems to have flipped the consensus from "Yankees in 6" to "Phillies in 4 and I just hope a Yankee hits the ball out of the infield again, some day."



If Pedro, of all people, wins tonight's Game 2, it ain't gonna be pretty.

Baseball Player Name of the Week

Courtesy of astute reader Perpetual Memory Loss, I give you:

Phillies pitching prospect Antonio Bastardo.


You might laugh, but it actually sounds pretty badass. I'd imagine that last name would have to make you tough, in a Boy Named Sue kind of way.

Pagan Idolatry

Nice wins last night, as both New York teams pulled themselves back up to .500 -- 1.5 games out of first place in their respective divisions -- and quieted a few early anxiety pangs.

The Mets had the more dramatic victory, a tense 12-inning grudge match against the Phillies, further building up a rivalry that still has that new-car smell. I imagine I wasn't alone in doubting the Mets would pull this one off, after Aaron Heilman coughed up the lead. But eventually Angel Pagan (owner of the best name in current New York baseball, even if Pagan isn't pronounced the way you want it to be) singled and Jose Reyes, who'd been at second, beat the catcher's tag by a fraction of a second to score the winning run. Or maybe not; it was too close for me to call, frankly. Either way, while noting that everything is amplified this early in the year, it felt like a big win.

However, I don't think I'll really feel like this season is seriously underway until the Marlins and Orioles are out of first place in their divisions. I know it ought to be a fun story, a couple of disrespected underdogs getting their moment in the sun... but instead I just find it unnerving. And the Tigers are five games back from the Royals? Up is down, black is white, Jason Kendall has the highest batting average in the majors.

Back in the AL, the Yankees looked pretty good, as they tend to do when they manage to score more than three runs. Andy Pettitte had one of those games, increasingly common with him over the last few years, where he gets excellent results despite not actually appearing to be pitching all that well. Makes it all the more impressive, as far as I'm concerned.

Anyway, tonight is the first Yanks-Sox game of the season, and also the first Mets start for Nelson Figueroa, who is awesome. In general, if maybe not at pitching. He's a multi-lingual graphic artist from Coney Island who's thrown in six different U.S. organizations, Mexico, and Taiwan (where he was the 2007 Taiwan Series MVP); when asked this spring what he'd do if he didn't make the Mets, he said:

"I'll play until nobody in the world wants me."

So you've got to root for this guy, clearly. And who knows? Maybe he can be this year's terrifically unlikely Aaron Small-type success story. Unless Angel Pagan's already got that covered.



Finally, via Deadspin, it seems the Rockies are close to trademarking the word (or "word") "Rocktober." I hope they succeed, if only to prevent any organization I actually like from ever using that term.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to rush off and secure the rights to "Emovember."

Kid, This Ain't Your Night

I'm supposed to write about Tuesday's Shea Stadium opener for the NY Press, so I won't get into it in detail here. But there was no getting past the fact that the fans were immensely pissed off. While the Mets' play was hardly encouraging, I still think people may have been overreacting a bit to only one week of poor play... or anyway, only one week of poor play this season.

Granted, if anyone has the right to overreact these days, it's Mets fans. I try not to freak out about anything in April, though -- it's a long season, and you have to pace yourself. Otherwise you won't have anything left in the tank for those crucial August freak outs.

The Mets won a big one last night, even if the Phillies looked as though they were doing their best to throw the game while gangsters back in Pennsylvania threatened their loved ones at gunpoint. Kyle Kendrick allowed six walks in two innings to start things off, and the miracle is that the Mets only scored one run while he did it. You could almost see him thinking, "Come on! They'll shoot my wife if we win tonight! WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO?!?"

Fortunately Eric Bruntlett, who did not so much replace the injured Jimmy Rollins as disgrace his memory, helped Kendrick out by blowing several easy plays in the third, and the Mets won 8-2. Hey, it's a start.


Meanwhile, over in Kansas City, Joe Girardi tried to out-think nature. He was not successful.

I Forgot My Mantra

Awkward article in the Times today that tries to compare the Mets' losing streak with other famous New York "collapses". I know it's all in good fun, but leaving aside the fact that Crazy Eddie's jail term for fraud, the end of the disco era, and Jorge Sosa's control problems are what you might generously describe as only tenuously connected, did you really need to get a Harvard psychology professor to tell you that "there is always next season"?

Anyway, I'm sticking to my the-Mets-will-be-fine guns here, but they're sure not making it easy for me. Relief pitchers are funny creatures, aren't they? Sosa was brilliant last night and terrible tonight. Feliciano and Heilman simultaneously dropped from excellent last year to just pretty good. Mota... well, there's a logical explanation for that one, so let's leave him out of it. Joe Smith burned brightly but too fast. This past offseason I thought the Mets were making a huge mistake letting Chad Bradford go, and I still think that may be the case in the long run -- but he's not having a very good year for Baltimore anyway. (Though he has grown an alarming 80's-cop mustache, so at least this season hasn't been a total bust for him).

Seriously, outside of the game's top-tier closers, are there any safe bets in the bullpen from year to year? Is this about small sample size, or is it just because if middle relievers were really reliably good they wouldn't be middle relievers? Or both? I will consult the oracle that is Baseball Prospectus on this subject in the morning.

I admit my confidence is finally a bit shaken now -- it was tonight's loss that did it. The Mets are certainly better than they've shown recently, and better than the Marlins and the Nationals... but what if they just have another week of bad luck, injuries, bullpen meltdowns?

No. It doesn't matter. Repeat after me, the Phillies have the third-worst ERA in the National League. The Phillies have the third-worst ERA in the National League. The Phillies have the third-worst ERA in the National League...

I Have Run Out of Synonyms For "Agonizing Loss"

Man... where to start with that Mets game? I can't remember the last time a team suffered four losses that agonizing one right after the other. I mean, certainly other losses have meant more -- the Mets still do have a two-game lead, even though it doesn't feel that way -- but these were just lost in such an insanely maddening fashion. First the blowout, then they let the Phillies tie game two on a grounder that should have rolled foul but didn't. The next day their dramatic comeback is aborted by an interference call. Then today, they battle back twice, from 5-0 and 8-5 deficits, and look like they're about to salvage some tiny positive feeling from the smoldering wreckage of this series... and instead their bullpen implodes again. Absolutely brutal. And now they have to go to Atlanta, and with the Phillies breathing down their necks, they actually need to win.

Having been rendered more or less speechless (which by the way is not easily managed, so congrats, Mets), I will only say, once again: at least it isn't boring.

If you're a Mets fan it may make you feel very slightly better to listen to this fan-written song about Endy Chavez, which is what the Mets were singing in the locker room the other day when he came off the DL. But only very slightly.

You Make Me Happy When Skies Are Gray

--Endy Chavez is being activated today. Yay!

--Amazingly enough, people still haven't realized that everything you do online can be tracked and traced back to you. Look, if you work for ESPN or MLB and you start editing relevant Wikipedia pages, don't think people won't find out. "Sexual harassment charges? What sexual harassment charges?! Look, Wikipedia doesn't even mention them, clearly they must not exist!"

--Also, more on Antonio Alfonseca's fingers:

Alfonseca is adamant that the digits are more a sense of pride than a problem. It even cost him a chance to join the New York Yankees machine as a 16-year old. Upon meeting Alfonseca, Yankees scout Arturo Defreitas offered to have the extra finger removed by a doctor. Alfonseca's response: He ran away.

See, Mets fans ought to love this guy.

--Oh, and the Yankees are playing some team from Boston tonight...

It's not a fight for the Division anymore, but it's still do-or-die time for the Yanks... and I can't say I'm not looking forward to seeing Joba Chamberlain versus Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz. Yanks need to win tonight with Pettitte on the mound, since he's now their most reliable starter, juuust edging out Wang at the moment. And with Matsuzaka going for the Sox, it should be a good one -- anyone who pretends to have an imaginary pitch just to fuck with people's heads is my kind of pitcher. I'm only surprised El Duque never thought of this.

Too Bad He Didn't Take Better Care of His Body, Like That David Wells

So when I said I thought Mike Mussina would bounce back tonight somewhat... I, uh... well, I guess six runs in three innings is better than seven runs in 1.2 innings? Yikes.

That was an extremely painful game to watch, on a human level more than a sports fan level. Mussina's struggled before, but not like this; he's been one of the best pitchers of his generation, and this might be the end, and he's not ready for it. The post-game interview was just heartbreaking. "I don’t even know how to describe it because I’ve never had to deal with it before," he said. Watching him on the mound was awkward, almost embarrassing, like we should turn off the TV and give him some privacy. Give Mussina credit for sticking around to talk to reporters -- I would have been out of there like a shot, I'd imagine -- but he looked, and sounded, shattered. No confidence; none of his trademark snarkiness, even. Can an athlete really lose it that fast? From Tyler Kepner's NY Times story:

“Right now, I let go of it and I don’t feel like anything good is going to happen,” Mussina said. “It’s tough to pitch that way. You can’t play the game that way to feel like you have no control over anything, and that’s how I feel right now..."...

...The Yankees owe Mussina more than $11 million for next season, but he seems to be nearing the end. It is a scary and sudden reality, and it has knocked him as low as he has ever been.

“It feels like I’m never going to pitch well enough to get to the sixth or seventh inning again,” Mussina said. “That’s just how it feels right now.”

I have to believe that given time to make adjustments, Mussina can be, if not good again, at least mediocre --I don't care how old he is, I refuse to believe he's a less viable pitcher than Sir Sidney Ponson -- but unfortunately, time to make adjustments is exactly what the Yankees don't have.

In less agonizing news...

--Meant to mention this earlier, but Scott Proctor pitched against the Mets on Friday night, and not very well -- walk, hit, hit, balk... "It's possible he may have been somewhat overused," said Gary Cohen gingerly. It is indeed. However, I see Proctor has wasted no time in taking advantage of the Dodgers' more relaxed grooming rules and is already sporting a big off-putting tuft of chin-beard. So at least he's got that going for him.

Makes you wonder, how many Yankees would grow awful facial hair if only they could? You know Brian Bruney is just yearning for a goatee.

--In general, though I'd prefer them to stay right where they are in the NL East, I like the Phillies: Ryan Howard seems thoughtful and kind in interviews, Jimmy Rollins is funny*, Shane Victorino has a solid nickname in "The Flyin' Hawaiian," and Antonio Alfonseco has six fingers on each hand, which is awesome. Then there's that great clip of the whole team helping the Rockies' grounds crew with the tarp during a dangerously windy storm, which still makes me smile. But they do have one really glaring flaw in their likeability... and its name is Brett Myers. On the plus side, screaming violently at a reporter for no good reason is certainly a huge step up from smacking your wife around on a street in Boston. Baby steps!

Wait, THIS guy hit his wife? No way!

--Finally, Jim Dolan has donated to the Hilary Clinton campaign. Okay, that's it, I've finally made up my mind: I'm going with Obama.



*I still can't believe people got so worked up over his pre-season comment that the Phillies were going to be "the team to beat." What's the guy supposed to say? "I look forward to another year of frustrating near-misses"?

"Team's Real Hot, Stand Up Proud/ Do The Wave, Shout It Loud!

Wait a minute. I'm confused. I was told the Phillies were going to be a really good team this year... wasn't I? I'm sure I was. In fact, I believe a number of Phillies told me so themselves.

Okay, okay, it's early. I don't really doubt that the Phillies will get their act together and play well this year. But man, they looked awful tonight -- no effort or concentration in the second half of the game whatsoever, even though they were only down by four runs at the time. The Mets announcers had a cheerful little discussion that began, "this is the kind of game that gets managers fired." The Mets looked good, but the Phillies helped them out. Tom Glavine couldn't find his control, probably because it's fucking freezing outside, again, but got great defense and thoughtfully pitched out of trouble. "Crafty little devil," said Ron Darling, admiringly. Moises Alou had two very serious home runs to left, without batting gloves no less (because batting gloves in 35-degree weather are for the weak and puny, apparently), and my arch-nemesis Geoff Geary gave up two hits and a run. Mwa ha ha!

Meanwhile: I may have posted this before, but please, please follow this link to the memorable rap Let's Get Metsmerized!, as performed -- er, "performed" by members of the 1986 Mets. My personal favorite lyric: "When they want a batter filled with terror/ They call on me, Rick Aguilera!" I promise you will not be sorry. (No promises about your ears not bleeding, though).