Yikes. I still haven’t fully recovered from Game 7. That was the definition of a heartbreaker – so excruciatingly close… how do you get a catch like that from Endy Chavez and still not win? Given the situation, that has to be the best catch I’ve ever seen in my life. Even the jaded auxiliary press box crowd jumped up and applauded, and that is not a common sight. Also: Yadier Molina? Seriously? I’m not going to the World Series because of Yadier Molina? I’m going to hold a grudge on this for a long, long time.
This leaves me in a precarious position for the World Series, as the two teams playing both crushed my hopes just a few weeks apart. Obviously you have to watch, though, because after that it’s 4 months of baseball withdrawal. I’d have to say that while I don’t much care what happens, I’m rooting for the Tigers, mainly because I like Jim Leyland; not enough managers smoke in the dugout these days. I do, however, want to see the Cardinals pound the hell out of Kenny Rogers. Badly.
And yes, I realize I’m getting dangerously close to baseball bigamy here. I keep telling myself I was only rooting for the Mets because I wanted to keep covering the playoffs… but these feelings are something I’m going to have to sort out this winter, possibly in therapy. The Mets just sort of happened to me; I had a little crush and then before I knew it, things got out of hand -- soon I found myself lying to the Yankees, coming home late at night and sneaking out to Shea at lunch... Anyway, aside from the moral and ethical issues, the downside of rooting for two teams was made painfully clear to me this year when they both lost, in very different but equally painful ways. I'm in a fragile, emotionally confused state right now. The Nets had better be nice to me this year.
October 21, 2006
October 18, 2006
I Do NOT Want To See A Jeff Weaver/ Kenny Rogers Pitching Duel
So Lou Piniella is now officially managing the Cubs. I think he’s got some good qualities as a manager, but I’m not a big fan of Sweet Lou, ever since watching a clip of his ugly locker room fight with Rob Dibble back when he was manager of the Reds. Sadly, the YouTube overlords seem to have removed it, but Piniella really goes after the guy, screaming “you don’t want to be treated like a man!” Unfortunately for everyone involved here, I think the Cubs may have more serious problems than a lack of machismo.
Naturally, this has set off rumors that A-Rod will therefore be traded to the Cubs, where he could be reunited with his old Mariners manager and, apparently, surrogate father-figure (was Lou Piniella really the best father figure he could find? What, Randy Johnson wasn’t volatile and crazy enough?). I don't think this is going to happen (SI's John Heyman explains why), and from a baseball perspective it would be a big mistake. It’s hard to say at this point how much of the Rodriguez-doesn’t-fit-in stuff is a blown out of proportion media creation and how much is true, but he’s still one of the best players in the game. That gets said all the time, but I’m not sure people really hear it. Look at the guy's numbers again -- I still do a double-take. He did flop in the playoffs, no doubt, but so did most of his teammates; so did the As. The common factor there, of course, is the Tigers’ pitching. So unless the Yankees can get a truly top-of-the-line young starting pitcher in exchange – and I’m not at all convinced that Carlos Zambrano would be enough – they’re not going to come out on top here. Not having to deal with the endless soap opera that A-Rod's stay in New York has devolved into might make it almost worth a bad trade… but not quite, I think.
The Mets, meanwhile, are in some trouble – facing elimination tonight with John Maine going against Chris Carpenter. (Glavine wasn’t bad yesterday but Jeff Weaver, of all people, outpitched him. What the hell? The last few postseasons have seen a who’s-who of mediocre Yankee castoffs suddenly turn in ace performances; at this rate I expect to see Carl Pavano throw a no-hitter to outduel a stellar Ted Lilly in the 2009 Series). And if the Mets manage to win tonight, they’ll have another elimination game tomorrow in which TBD will face Jeff Suppan: Steve Trachsel’s Game 3 start was so appalling it was blocked by my V-Chip, Darren Oliver is a long reliever for a reason (last start: 2004), and Oliver Perez is enough of a gamble on full rest. I think the Mets are unquestionably a better team than the Cardinals when at full strength, and not by a small margin -- but when a team loses two of its starting pitchers less than a week before the playoffs, well, suddenly you need a lot of luck. I’m off to Shea now, rabbit’s foot in tow.
Naturally, this has set off rumors that A-Rod will therefore be traded to the Cubs, where he could be reunited with his old Mariners manager and, apparently, surrogate father-figure (was Lou Piniella really the best father figure he could find? What, Randy Johnson wasn’t volatile and crazy enough?). I don't think this is going to happen (SI's John Heyman explains why), and from a baseball perspective it would be a big mistake. It’s hard to say at this point how much of the Rodriguez-doesn’t-fit-in stuff is a blown out of proportion media creation and how much is true, but he’s still one of the best players in the game. That gets said all the time, but I’m not sure people really hear it. Look at the guy's numbers again -- I still do a double-take. He did flop in the playoffs, no doubt, but so did most of his teammates; so did the As. The common factor there, of course, is the Tigers’ pitching. So unless the Yankees can get a truly top-of-the-line young starting pitcher in exchange – and I’m not at all convinced that Carlos Zambrano would be enough – they’re not going to come out on top here. Not having to deal with the endless soap opera that A-Rod's stay in New York has devolved into might make it almost worth a bad trade… but not quite, I think.
The Mets, meanwhile, are in some trouble – facing elimination tonight with John Maine going against Chris Carpenter. (Glavine wasn’t bad yesterday but Jeff Weaver, of all people, outpitched him. What the hell? The last few postseasons have seen a who’s-who of mediocre Yankee castoffs suddenly turn in ace performances; at this rate I expect to see Carl Pavano throw a no-hitter to outduel a stellar Ted Lilly in the 2009 Series). And if the Mets manage to win tonight, they’ll have another elimination game tomorrow in which TBD will face Jeff Suppan: Steve Trachsel’s Game 3 start was so appalling it was blocked by my V-Chip, Darren Oliver is a long reliever for a reason (last start: 2004), and Oliver Perez is enough of a gamble on full rest. I think the Mets are unquestionably a better team than the Cardinals when at full strength, and not by a small margin -- but when a team loses two of its starting pitchers less than a week before the playoffs, well, suddenly you need a lot of luck. I’m off to Shea now, rabbit’s foot in tow.
October 14, 2006
Will Somebody With Photoshop Please Put Valentin's Mustache on David Wright's Face For Me?
Well, at least the Mets-Cardinals series doesn’t look like it’s going to be boring. Both teams won the game they were supposed to win – the Mets behind Glavine, their most reliable starter by well over a mile, and the Cardinals behind Chris Carpenter, though in fact he didn’t pitch very well; the Mets bullpen had an uncharacteristic bout of mediocrity. It was a messy game, but there were a few pretty moments – Delgado’s homers, excellent at-bats from Eckstein and Pujols and Spezio, patented Reyes-brand baserunning. The Mets seemed to take the rough ending more or less in stride, though you could argue it was the first truly meaningful loss they’ve had in months. Kind of amazing, when you think about it.
They’ll now start Steve Trachsel and Oliver Perez and cross their fingers that one of them comes up big; the Cards will do the same with Suppan and Anthony Reyes. I have a good, though utterly baseless, feeling about Perez, but in any event they’ll have Glavine again for Game 5. I do realize that Jeff Weaver somehow suddenly went from five or so years of “having a lot of potential” to actually being good, but I still don’t trust it... all I know is that somehow, all of this is Kenny Rogers’ fault.
In other news, it seems as though Albert Pujols can be a bit of a jerk (with the media, anyway; doesn’t mean anything as far as his personal life goes). I’m sorry to hear it, because you want Pujols to be a larger-than-life figure, really the embodiment of hitting -- and instead he gets snippy, shoves his chair, and pouts that Tom Glavine wasn’t actually good (uh, Albert? Yes, he was). Hey, if I were one of the best players in the game and went hitless in the playoffs, and then had to talk about it with 50 strangers, I’d probably be pissy too, but still… you want more from him. This is precisely the way I thought I’d be disillusioned by professional athletes when I first went into a locker room, and I think it’s a testament to the Mets (and the Yanks, too) that it really hasn't been like that so far.
And now, I am very happy to reintroduce a favorite feature on this blog… yes, it’s
MUSTACHE WATCH 06!: Okay, it’s not technically a mustache, but somebody needs to talk to Scott Spezio about the bright red thing on his chin. I didn’t want to go here, but if we're going to be honest it can only be described as a landing strip. Scott: this is a family game, little kids are watching, and somebody is going to complain to the FCC (Hey, who wants to explain to the Parents Television Council what a landing strip is? Not it!).
As to Jose Valentin’s renowned facial hair: you just keep on keepin’ on, my friend.
Finally, I realize I never linked to my second Village Voice article. Oops.
They’ll now start Steve Trachsel and Oliver Perez and cross their fingers that one of them comes up big; the Cards will do the same with Suppan and Anthony Reyes. I have a good, though utterly baseless, feeling about Perez, but in any event they’ll have Glavine again for Game 5. I do realize that Jeff Weaver somehow suddenly went from five or so years of “having a lot of potential” to actually being good, but I still don’t trust it... all I know is that somehow, all of this is Kenny Rogers’ fault.
In other news, it seems as though Albert Pujols can be a bit of a jerk (with the media, anyway; doesn’t mean anything as far as his personal life goes). I’m sorry to hear it, because you want Pujols to be a larger-than-life figure, really the embodiment of hitting -- and instead he gets snippy, shoves his chair, and pouts that Tom Glavine wasn’t actually good (uh, Albert? Yes, he was). Hey, if I were one of the best players in the game and went hitless in the playoffs, and then had to talk about it with 50 strangers, I’d probably be pissy too, but still… you want more from him. This is precisely the way I thought I’d be disillusioned by professional athletes when I first went into a locker room, and I think it’s a testament to the Mets (and the Yanks, too) that it really hasn't been like that so far.
And now, I am very happy to reintroduce a favorite feature on this blog… yes, it’s
MUSTACHE WATCH 06!: Okay, it’s not technically a mustache, but somebody needs to talk to Scott Spezio about the bright red thing on his chin. I didn’t want to go here, but if we're going to be honest it can only be described as a landing strip. Scott: this is a family game, little kids are watching, and somebody is going to complain to the FCC (Hey, who wants to explain to the Parents Television Council what a landing strip is? Not it!).
As to Jose Valentin’s renowned facial hair: you just keep on keepin’ on, my friend.
Finally, I realize I never linked to my second Village Voice article. Oops.
October 11, 2006
Saracasm Postponed, Rescheduled for Friday
I found out about the plane crash on the Upper East Side right before I left for Shea (in fact, my ride had to go cover it); when I first heard that Cory Lidle was the pilot I just assumed it must be a strange false rumor. It’s incredibly random and, obviously, incredibly sad -- you don’t need me to tell you that, but it would still be weird not to say it. I didn’t know Lidle at all, of course, but I did talk to him briefly with other reporters several times in the Yankee clubhouse over the last few weeks, and he seemed like a very nice guy in those brief interactions. I was struck by how small he was – not much taller than me – and how articulate; he liked chess and there was always a board set up near his locker. There’s obviously not much to say here, and certainly nothing funny.
MLB called tonight’s game, which is probably for the best, even aside from the ghastly weather. Everyone knows everyone in baseball, especially with free agency -- Lidle played for seven different teams -- and a lot of the players seemed shaken up. Poor Mets fans, they’re just never going to get the headlines to themselves... at this rate, tomorrow there’ll probably be tornadoes or a rain of frogs or something.
MLB called tonight’s game, which is probably for the best, even aside from the ghastly weather. Everyone knows everyone in baseball, especially with free agency -- Lidle played for seven different teams -- and a lot of the players seemed shaken up. Poor Mets fans, they’re just never going to get the headlines to themselves... at this rate, tomorrow there’ll probably be tornadoes or a rain of frogs or something.
BREAKING NEWS: Torre Scratches Nose, Blinks, Clings to Shreds of Dignity
It’s Championship Series time! As the Twins take on the Yankees in the ALCS, I predict… oh wait, that’s right. I’m not making playoff predictions anymore.
So, as I’m sure you’ve heard unless you’ve been asleep for the last 24 hours, in which case I’m jealous, it’s official: Joe Torre’s back with the Yankees next year. I think this is a good thing, but man, if that’s what was gonna happen we all just could have skipped the last three days of screeching speculation, huh? At the risk of sounding naïve, I’m a bit taken aback by the sudden vitriol unleashed on Torre. Not that there aren’t plenty of valid reasons to argue that it’s time for a new manager (to say nothing of some serious roster changes, but with contracts as they are, that'll be tough), but some of the articles that came out this week were hitting pretty low – particularly given that no one voiced any of these criticisms until it looked like he was gone. I mean, hey, no one’s a bigger fan of negativity than me, but I still found the bloodthirstiness a little disconcerting. I guess that’s just the nature of the beast.
Anyway. Mets fans are pissed that the Torre saga is stealing their playoff headlines, and they have a point. I was at Shea today for the workout day, and the Mets are in a pretty damn good mood; it's kind of infectious. I still don’t know if confidence and/or chemistry actually matter in terms of helping a team win, but if they do those guys are in good shape. Still – everyone agrees the lesson from the recent… thing that happened in Detroit… is that pitching is, indeed, everything. Right? In which case, I'd worry that the Mets may run into some trouble; not so much with St. Louis, outside of Carpenter, but in the World Series, if they get there.
Then again, everything seems to be going right for them right now – and you need some breaks, just ask the ’96 Yankees, or the ’86 Mets for that matter – so maybe they’ll find a way. No predictions though! You hear me, baseball gods? I’m just idly speculating! Nothing to see here!
So, as I’m sure you’ve heard unless you’ve been asleep for the last 24 hours, in which case I’m jealous, it’s official: Joe Torre’s back with the Yankees next year. I think this is a good thing, but man, if that’s what was gonna happen we all just could have skipped the last three days of screeching speculation, huh? At the risk of sounding naïve, I’m a bit taken aback by the sudden vitriol unleashed on Torre. Not that there aren’t plenty of valid reasons to argue that it’s time for a new manager (to say nothing of some serious roster changes, but with contracts as they are, that'll be tough), but some of the articles that came out this week were hitting pretty low – particularly given that no one voiced any of these criticisms until it looked like he was gone. I mean, hey, no one’s a bigger fan of negativity than me, but I still found the bloodthirstiness a little disconcerting. I guess that’s just the nature of the beast.
Anyway. Mets fans are pissed that the Torre saga is stealing their playoff headlines, and they have a point. I was at Shea today for the workout day, and the Mets are in a pretty damn good mood; it's kind of infectious. I still don’t know if confidence and/or chemistry actually matter in terms of helping a team win, but if they do those guys are in good shape. Still – everyone agrees the lesson from the recent… thing that happened in Detroit… is that pitching is, indeed, everything. Right? In which case, I'd worry that the Mets may run into some trouble; not so much with St. Louis, outside of Carpenter, but in the World Series, if they get there.
Then again, everything seems to be going right for them right now – and you need some breaks, just ask the ’96 Yankees, or the ’86 Mets for that matter – so maybe they’ll find a way. No predictions though! You hear me, baseball gods? I’m just idly speculating! Nothing to see here!
October 08, 2006
Well, THAT Went Well
“They outplayed us, they outpitched us – there’s not much else you can say,” said Joe Torre after tonight’s game. I’m sure sportswriters across the country will think of something, but I guess that’s it in a nutshell.
Tomorrow’s Daily News, according to ESPN, reports that Joe Torre is going to be fired. I have to admit he didn’t make any dazzling managerial moves in this postseason, and I can see that sometimes things just need to be shaken up, but it’s still sad, if true. I’ve got some very happy memories involving that guy tearing up on the field in October. He also seems like a genuinely thoughtful, pleasant guy, willing to take time to make everyone feel comfortable -- in fact, I can’t recall hearing even one story about him really treating anyone badly, which is truly remarkable for someone whose boss is George Steinbrenner, given the way shit generally rolls downhill. In any case, it'd be the end of an era.
For those of you looking to be cheered up, I have several suggestions. First, many thanks to the commenter who called Jeremy Bonderman’s striking resemblance to Alice the Goon, from the Popeye cartoons. Good eye, my friend - that's the nose right there. Second, courtesy of Bronx Banterer Alex Belth, check out this sound clip of Earl Weaver, legendary manager of the Baltimore Orioles in the 70s and 80s, on the “Manager’s Corner” radio show. Weaver was known for his strategizing, growing tomato plants in the outfield, and being… you know… “colorful”. Not to be missed. As a bonus, here’s Tommy Lasorda on throwing at hitters.
The Mets swept the Dodgers today, which is great for me because I get to go to home NLCS games, but it's also nice because they're just such a fun team. I know rooting for the Mets goes very much against the grain for Yankee fans, and may be downright impossible, but hey – go ahead and watch them play in the next round, and if you find that you aren’t exactly hoping for them to lose, I promise I won’t tell anyone... though you might not want to do it in public, because we're about to take a whole lot of crap from Mets fans. If any of them give you a hard time, I recommend bringing this up.
Tomorrow’s Daily News, according to ESPN, reports that Joe Torre is going to be fired. I have to admit he didn’t make any dazzling managerial moves in this postseason, and I can see that sometimes things just need to be shaken up, but it’s still sad, if true. I’ve got some very happy memories involving that guy tearing up on the field in October. He also seems like a genuinely thoughtful, pleasant guy, willing to take time to make everyone feel comfortable -- in fact, I can’t recall hearing even one story about him really treating anyone badly, which is truly remarkable for someone whose boss is George Steinbrenner, given the way shit generally rolls downhill. In any case, it'd be the end of an era.
For those of you looking to be cheered up, I have several suggestions. First, many thanks to the commenter who called Jeremy Bonderman’s striking resemblance to Alice the Goon, from the Popeye cartoons. Good eye, my friend - that's the nose right there. Second, courtesy of Bronx Banterer Alex Belth, check out this sound clip of Earl Weaver, legendary manager of the Baltimore Orioles in the 70s and 80s, on the “Manager’s Corner” radio show. Weaver was known for his strategizing, growing tomato plants in the outfield, and being… you know… “colorful”. Not to be missed. As a bonus, here’s Tommy Lasorda on throwing at hitters.
The Mets swept the Dodgers today, which is great for me because I get to go to home NLCS games, but it's also nice because they're just such a fun team. I know rooting for the Mets goes very much against the grain for Yankee fans, and may be downright impossible, but hey – go ahead and watch them play in the next round, and if you find that you aren’t exactly hoping for them to lose, I promise I won’t tell anyone... though you might not want to do it in public, because we're about to take a whole lot of crap from Mets fans. If any of them give you a hard time, I recommend bringing this up.
October 07, 2006
So He CAN Pitch In The Postseason... He Just Hates New York
Damn. Kenny Rogers? Kenny Rogers?!?! Okay… I’m really, REALLY not making any more predictions.
No one, including the fans, seemed too concerned after yesterday’s loss, but today’s seems like an absolute disaster – that’s a five-game series for you. Gotta give Rogers credit, he pitched a genuinely great game, and his curveball looked like it was defying several laws of physics; but it’s still surprising that the Yankees couldn’t scrape up even one run. They weren’t their usual patient selves, swinging at pitches out of the strike zone, and there was a marked absence of small ball – no stolen bases, no fly balls to advance the runner, just one good (but failed) attempt by Abreu to bunt his way on. With their big sluggers back, they’re looking like a better version of last year’s team; extremely powerful, but inflexible. Which is not to suggest that Terrence Long should be on the playoff roster or anything, but... maybe it's time for some Melky?
Jaret Wright goes up against Jeremy Bonderman in the elimination game tomorrow. The Yankees still have a very decent chance of getting to Game 5, but I'd feel a lot more comfortable with Chien-Ming Wang going on three days’ rest. That’s never been Joe Torre’s style though -- Wang didn’t even fly to the Detroit with the team -- and in his post-game conference, he said he wouldn’t want to “mess with [Wang's] future.” Fair enough, and Torre obviously knows a lot more than I do about the dangers going tomorrow would pose to Wang’s long-term health, but still, if Jaret Wright has one of his patented meltdowns, it’s going to be hard not to wonder what might have been.
After the game, Rogers talked about his stint in New York: “For my time being there, I don't understand New York as much as some other people, but I would think that they would appreciate the effort that people give. Not always the results that you want,” he said. Um… nice thought, Kenny, but no. I have an ex-boss who’ll be happy to enlighten you on that score. But hey, remember that time last year you assaulted a cameraman for no reason? Good effort!
Okay, so I'm a little bitter. But hopefully a couple of beers and a little sleep will allow me to forgive Kenny Rogers. And focus on the important things, like like trying to figure out which cartoon character it is that Jeremy Bonderman reminds me of.
Any ideas?
No one, including the fans, seemed too concerned after yesterday’s loss, but today’s seems like an absolute disaster – that’s a five-game series for you. Gotta give Rogers credit, he pitched a genuinely great game, and his curveball looked like it was defying several laws of physics; but it’s still surprising that the Yankees couldn’t scrape up even one run. They weren’t their usual patient selves, swinging at pitches out of the strike zone, and there was a marked absence of small ball – no stolen bases, no fly balls to advance the runner, just one good (but failed) attempt by Abreu to bunt his way on. With their big sluggers back, they’re looking like a better version of last year’s team; extremely powerful, but inflexible. Which is not to suggest that Terrence Long should be on the playoff roster or anything, but... maybe it's time for some Melky?
Jaret Wright goes up against Jeremy Bonderman in the elimination game tomorrow. The Yankees still have a very decent chance of getting to Game 5, but I'd feel a lot more comfortable with Chien-Ming Wang going on three days’ rest. That’s never been Joe Torre’s style though -- Wang didn’t even fly to the Detroit with the team -- and in his post-game conference, he said he wouldn’t want to “mess with [Wang's] future.” Fair enough, and Torre obviously knows a lot more than I do about the dangers going tomorrow would pose to Wang’s long-term health, but still, if Jaret Wright has one of his patented meltdowns, it’s going to be hard not to wonder what might have been.
After the game, Rogers talked about his stint in New York: “For my time being there, I don't understand New York as much as some other people, but I would think that they would appreciate the effort that people give. Not always the results that you want,” he said. Um… nice thought, Kenny, but no. I have an ex-boss who’ll be happy to enlighten you on that score. But hey, remember that time last year you assaulted a cameraman for no reason? Good effort!
Okay, so I'm a little bitter. But hopefully a couple of beers and a little sleep will allow me to forgive Kenny Rogers. And focus on the important things, like like trying to figure out which cartoon character it is that Jeremy Bonderman reminds me of.
Any ideas?
October 05, 2006
When I Have A "Police Escort" It Usually Means I'm Being Arrested
So I just got home around midnight from the rain delay in the Bronx. I was pissed that I rushed up there from Shea for no reason, but that’s nothing compared to many of the other sportswriters, who had to reschedule their flights and hotels at the last minute, not to mention submit stories on deadline with no game to write about. When I got off the subway it was a near monsoon, so I guess they made the right decision, though I can introduce you to about 50,000 drunk, pissed off ticket holders who might disagree.
It was a fun game at Shea today, though. I’ve never seen anything like that double play at the plate in the second inning. About four older writers sitting near me immediately exclaimed, “just like that ’85 game when Carlton Fisk tagged Bobby Meacham and Dale Berra!”; I of course thought of Major League. And I had absolutely no idea how the fuck to score that thing (9-4-2 double play, if you’re curious). The best part was that Lo Duca had no idea the second runner was coming home -- and seriously, why was he? -- until John Maine, backing up behind the plate, yelled and pointed, which means J.D. Drew very nearly stole home… sort of. I think. Regarless, it was awesome.
Meanwhile, is it just me, is or has Vernon Wells been very good so far on Baseball Tonight? The guy is smooth. It pains me to say this, but there’s no getting around it: Tino Martinez, despite having many excellent qualities as a player and teammate, did not excel in this role. Oh hey, and speaking of not excelling, I saw Steve Phillips, everyone's favorite Baseball Tonight analyst, at Shea today; he sort of popped out from behind a corner and scared the hell out of me. I find it a little surprising that they have him broadcasting Mets games, given his history there - you have to hope he interviews Omar Minaya at some point. That won't be awkward at all.
In other Signature ESPN Personality news, Joe Morgan got a police escort from Shea to Yankee Stadium to make sure he got to the game on time. Think about that next time you read about crime in the South Bronx. Tomorrow I’ll be back at the Stadium in the morning, then head back to Shea for the night game; I kind of want to go to Staten Island at some point just so I can say I’ve hit all five boroughs in the same day, but I suppose there won’t be time.
It was a fun game at Shea today, though. I’ve never seen anything like that double play at the plate in the second inning. About four older writers sitting near me immediately exclaimed, “just like that ’85 game when Carlton Fisk tagged Bobby Meacham and Dale Berra!”; I of course thought of Major League. And I had absolutely no idea how the fuck to score that thing (9-4-2 double play, if you’re curious). The best part was that Lo Duca had no idea the second runner was coming home -- and seriously, why was he? -- until John Maine, backing up behind the plate, yelled and pointed, which means J.D. Drew very nearly stole home… sort of. I think. Regarless, it was awesome.
Meanwhile, is it just me, is or has Vernon Wells been very good so far on Baseball Tonight? The guy is smooth. It pains me to say this, but there’s no getting around it: Tino Martinez, despite having many excellent qualities as a player and teammate, did not excel in this role. Oh hey, and speaking of not excelling, I saw Steve Phillips, everyone's favorite Baseball Tonight analyst, at Shea today; he sort of popped out from behind a corner and scared the hell out of me. I find it a little surprising that they have him broadcasting Mets games, given his history there - you have to hope he interviews Omar Minaya at some point. That won't be awkward at all.
In other Signature ESPN Personality news, Joe Morgan got a police escort from Shea to Yankee Stadium to make sure he got to the game on time. Think about that next time you read about crime in the South Bronx. Tomorrow I’ll be back at the Stadium in the morning, then head back to Shea for the night game; I kind of want to go to Staten Island at some point just so I can say I’ve hit all five boroughs in the same day, but I suppose there won’t be time.
October 04, 2006
No Matter How Hard You Try, You Just Can't Make A Decent Pun On The Name "Jeter"
First of all, I've got an article about the Yankees and Mets in this week's Village Voice; check it out if you're either interested or bored at work. I spent much of the last two weeks at Shea and Yankee Stadium, which explains the less-frequent-than-usual posting, though things should get less crazy this weekend when both teams go on the road. Tomorrow I'm going to both Division Series games, which should be both totally awesome and completely exhausting.
The Yankees did pretty much exactly what they were supposed to do tonight, and Derek Jeter was, of course, 5 for 5 with a home run. So the guy's not a fascinating quote... but what the hell, he's certainly not boring on the field. Even if I never have any kids, I'll still be telling other people's grandchildren about watching him play. Tomorrow, Mike Mussina takes on Justin Verlander in a game made even more important by the fact that Randy Johnson and his disintegrating spine are pitching Game 3. Though, granted, they'll be pitching against Kenny Rogers, who in previous postseason starts on a New York stage has... what's the opposite of "shined"? "Sucked away all available light like a gaping black hole"? The Mets, meanwhile, will be starting... somebody. Yes, a member of their pitching staff will definitely take the mound tomorrow. Hey, if they win, and they still very well might, it'll be a great story.
I'll have much more on all of this soon, but now, it's 3 AM and I have to be in beautiful Flushing around noon tomorrow. Good night and good luck.
The Yankees did pretty much exactly what they were supposed to do tonight, and Derek Jeter was, of course, 5 for 5 with a home run. So the guy's not a fascinating quote... but what the hell, he's certainly not boring on the field. Even if I never have any kids, I'll still be telling other people's grandchildren about watching him play. Tomorrow, Mike Mussina takes on Justin Verlander in a game made even more important by the fact that Randy Johnson and his disintegrating spine are pitching Game 3. Though, granted, they'll be pitching against Kenny Rogers, who in previous postseason starts on a New York stage has... what's the opposite of "shined"? "Sucked away all available light like a gaping black hole"? The Mets, meanwhile, will be starting... somebody. Yes, a member of their pitching staff will definitely take the mound tomorrow. Hey, if they win, and they still very well might, it'll be a great story.
I'll have much more on all of this soon, but now, it's 3 AM and I have to be in beautiful Flushing around noon tomorrow. Good night and good luck.
October 03, 2006
God Still Hates the Mets (Isn't There Something in the Bible About Calves?)
My ability to destroy everything I touch (or in this case, just mention) persists, as Willie Randolph announced earlier today that El Duque is down for an unclear amount of time with a calf injury -- last I heard, it might just be a cramp, but it might be something more serious; they took him for an MRI. The Mets are getting more underdog-ish by the day, but hey, they probably feel more comfortable in that role anyway. I really hope this isn't the beginning of some kind of Curse of the Eephus. Though if it is, maybe I can get a book deal out of it.
And illustrating precisely why one in general, and I in particular, really shouldn't try to predict playoffs, ever, no matter how tempted you may be, the A's beat Johan "demigod" Santana in the Metrodome this afternoon, though he pitched very well. Huh.
I'm at Yankee Stadium for the game tonight, and it looks like it's going to be fun. Asked yesterday why he thought he'd been picked for game 1, Chien-Ming Wang said, in one of the longest sentences I've heard him utter thus far, "keep pitching good games." I like that guy's style.
And illustrating precisely why one in general, and I in particular, really shouldn't try to predict playoffs, ever, no matter how tempted you may be, the A's beat Johan "demigod" Santana in the Metrodome this afternoon, though he pitched very well. Huh.
I'm at Yankee Stadium for the game tonight, and it looks like it's going to be fun. Asked yesterday why he thought he'd been picked for game 1, Chien-Ming Wang said, in one of the longest sentences I've heard him utter thus far, "keep pitching good games." I like that guy's style.
October 02, 2006
"Hey Coney, Why Don't YOU Have A Dance?"
First of all, Orlando Hernandez threw an eephus pitch in Friday night’s Mets game, to the Braves’ large pinch hitter Daryle Ward. Result: biiiiiiig swing and a total miss, causing much amusement and reminiscing among the Mets announcers and making El Duque the official mascot of this website. Man, I hope he pulls that out in the playoffs.
The Twins pulled off an absolutely insane comeback to win the AL Central over the Tigers today, which is great news not only for anyone who loves a great sports story, but for the Yankees. Twins fans are going to be talking about this year until they’re drooling into their nursing home pillows, and a lot longer than that if you happen to believe in an afterlife. First of all, awesome, and second, I told you -- not about the Twins, though I was pulling for them, but about how you just can’t be too impressed by a team whose putative ace is Kenny Rogers. The Detroit GM could have asked any New Yorker over the age of, say, 17 about this, and saved himself a lot of trouble and money. And I know there’s no better way to make yourself look like an idiot than to try and predict a short playoff series… so I’m not going to start now, I guess… but, honestly, I will be flat-out stunned if the Tigers beat the Yankees. Anything can happen, sure, of course, but you’ll have to scrape my jaw off the floor with a spatula.
Beyond that, I have no clue, but I’ve got to say, The Twins are trailing acres of magic pixie dust right now. Brad Radke is a lunatic, but in a really impressive way: he pitched most of the year with a torn labrum (all you need to know is it’s in the shoulder, and it sounds painful) because he planned to retire at the end of the season; now he’s also pitching, and pitching pretty well, with a still-healing fractured shoulder. Meanwhile, Johan Santana hasn’t lost a game at home this year… at all. Which is one of those stats that normally would sound a lot more significant than it actually is, what with wins not being a very accurate means of evaluating a pitcher -- but in this case, he's just that good.
In the NL, I once again find myself struggling to stay awake every time the Padres are on my TV screen for more than 20 seconds or so. I don’t know what it is about that team, but I’ve always been utterly unable to care about them one way or the other, or even pay attention. The 1998 World Series was fun for me, but objectively, it was fairly boring baseball, because that Padres team was vastly, cosmically, overmatched. I do retain fond memories of David Wells (because really, if you can live that lifestyle, and still have an excellent career, and pitch a perfect game, you’re kind of my hero), but beyond that… I don’t know, am I missing something? Come to think of it, in my entire life I don’t think I’ve ever even met a Padres fan. The Dodgers are certainly a more interesting team, but if there’s any justice in this world the Mets will flatten them like pancakes, Pedro be damned. And finally, after the last few weeks, it’s hard to feel that the Cardinals actually deserve to be in the playoffs at all; but they do have Albert Pujols, and if anyone can win three games more or less single-handedly you’d have to assume it’s him.
As for the Yankees’ latest, and last, meaningless regular season game, it was great to see Bernie Williams get that two-out, bottom-of-the-ninth, pinch-hit double today (not to mention manage). Not only because you had to be happy for him, but because potentially, he could do some damage in that role in the playoffs. Bernie Williams may not be Bernie Williams anymore, but he’s still Bernie Williams, if you know what I mean.
The Twins pulled off an absolutely insane comeback to win the AL Central over the Tigers today, which is great news not only for anyone who loves a great sports story, but for the Yankees. Twins fans are going to be talking about this year until they’re drooling into their nursing home pillows, and a lot longer than that if you happen to believe in an afterlife. First of all, awesome, and second, I told you -- not about the Twins, though I was pulling for them, but about how you just can’t be too impressed by a team whose putative ace is Kenny Rogers. The Detroit GM could have asked any New Yorker over the age of, say, 17 about this, and saved himself a lot of trouble and money. And I know there’s no better way to make yourself look like an idiot than to try and predict a short playoff series… so I’m not going to start now, I guess… but, honestly, I will be flat-out stunned if the Tigers beat the Yankees. Anything can happen, sure, of course, but you’ll have to scrape my jaw off the floor with a spatula.
Beyond that, I have no clue, but I’ve got to say, The Twins are trailing acres of magic pixie dust right now. Brad Radke is a lunatic, but in a really impressive way: he pitched most of the year with a torn labrum (all you need to know is it’s in the shoulder, and it sounds painful) because he planned to retire at the end of the season; now he’s also pitching, and pitching pretty well, with a still-healing fractured shoulder. Meanwhile, Johan Santana hasn’t lost a game at home this year… at all. Which is one of those stats that normally would sound a lot more significant than it actually is, what with wins not being a very accurate means of evaluating a pitcher -- but in this case, he's just that good.
In the NL, I once again find myself struggling to stay awake every time the Padres are on my TV screen for more than 20 seconds or so. I don’t know what it is about that team, but I’ve always been utterly unable to care about them one way or the other, or even pay attention. The 1998 World Series was fun for me, but objectively, it was fairly boring baseball, because that Padres team was vastly, cosmically, overmatched. I do retain fond memories of David Wells (because really, if you can live that lifestyle, and still have an excellent career, and pitch a perfect game, you’re kind of my hero), but beyond that… I don’t know, am I missing something? Come to think of it, in my entire life I don’t think I’ve ever even met a Padres fan. The Dodgers are certainly a more interesting team, but if there’s any justice in this world the Mets will flatten them like pancakes, Pedro be damned. And finally, after the last few weeks, it’s hard to feel that the Cardinals actually deserve to be in the playoffs at all; but they do have Albert Pujols, and if anyone can win three games more or less single-handedly you’d have to assume it’s him.
As for the Yankees’ latest, and last, meaningless regular season game, it was great to see Bernie Williams get that two-out, bottom-of-the-ninth, pinch-hit double today (not to mention manage). Not only because you had to be happy for him, but because potentially, he could do some damage in that role in the playoffs. Bernie Williams may not be Bernie Williams anymore, but he’s still Bernie Williams, if you know what I mean.
September 26, 2006
That's Just Big Papi Being Bi-- Uh, Intentionally Walked
I’ve spent much of the last week at Shea Stadium now, and I’ve just gotta say, that’s a bunch of likeable guys they’ve got over there.
Neither they nor the Yankees have played especially well since clinching, but, of course, it doesn’t matter – unless you believe that momentum is important for heading into the postseason, and idea that seems logical but which, as far as I can tell, statistical analysis doesn’t support (if it is true, meet your 2006 World Series Champions, the Minnesota Twins). Still, it’s good that the Yankees snapped out of their mini-slump tonight, with a ridiculous 20 hits, and won 16-1. It seems wrong to score 12 runs against a team, especially a young and piteous one like the Rays, and then throw Mariano Rivera at them in the seventh, doesn’t it? I know they need to get Mo tuned up for the playoffs, and Tampa killed them over the weekend, but it’s still sort of mean, like beating a smaller guy up and then inviting Mike Tyson to come over and take a shot just to study his technique.
The bad news is that Randy Johnson’s back has been giving him trouble and he’s been scratched from his next start. Uh-oh. There’s no guarantee he wouldn’t utterly implode in the playoffs anyway, of course (as he did last year, though he came through later with a stellar if futile relief outing), but as uneven as he’s been, he still inspires more confidence in a crucial playoff game than Cory Lidle or Darrell Rasner.
Besides which, I don’t think I like this Sheffield-at-first-base experiment. The playoffs are not the time to screw with your defense. According to the mad geniuses at Baseball Prospectus -- a pay site, I’m afraid -- strong defense is one of the few accurate predictors of a team’s postseason success (along with power pitching, which I’m afraid bodes ill for the Yanks, and a good closer, which... well, yeah). I’m not smart enough to check their math, unfortunately, but they make a convincing case. Andy Phillips and Craig Wilson aren’t extraordinary defenders, but they’re solid, and with Damon, Jeter, Rodriguez, Cano, Abreu, Posada, Matsui, and, assuming he’s healthy, Giambi, offense shouldn’t be the Yankees’ biggest concern. Sheffield hasn’t done a horrible job; he has the fundamental skill, he seems determined, and I don’t doubt that eventually he could become a decent first baseman, but two weeks isn’t exactly a lot of time to learn a new position. And just think about what a sick bat he’d be to have on the bench -- remember the impact Daryl Strawberry had in that role for the Yanks back in the day? -- and imagine how terrifying it would be for an opposing pitcher expecting, say, Aaron Guiel or Miguel Cairo to suddenly find himself face to face with Sheff’s bat-waggle.
More on Manny and the Sox (good band name): Gordan Edes wrote a harsh piece in the Globe calling for Boston to trade him. I’ve said this before, but I still think they’d be crazy to do it, unless they got Hafner or Pujols in return, which they won't. Listen, Miguel Tejada is a great player and all, but he’s no replacement for probably one of the 15 or 20 best hitters of all time, however irritating his flakiness and semi-fake-seeming injuries might be. I assume Edes knows vastly more than I do about what’s really going on with the Red Sox, so maybe Manny really is bringing the team down -- maybe they do need him out of there. But they’ll never be able to get equal value for him in a trade, offense-wise.
It all comes down to whether or not you believe team chemistry has a real impact on winning, something the Mets have made me think about recently as well. The answer, as far as I can tell, is “sort of.” More on this another time.
Neither they nor the Yankees have played especially well since clinching, but, of course, it doesn’t matter – unless you believe that momentum is important for heading into the postseason, and idea that seems logical but which, as far as I can tell, statistical analysis doesn’t support (if it is true, meet your 2006 World Series Champions, the Minnesota Twins). Still, it’s good that the Yankees snapped out of their mini-slump tonight, with a ridiculous 20 hits, and won 16-1. It seems wrong to score 12 runs against a team, especially a young and piteous one like the Rays, and then throw Mariano Rivera at them in the seventh, doesn’t it? I know they need to get Mo tuned up for the playoffs, and Tampa killed them over the weekend, but it’s still sort of mean, like beating a smaller guy up and then inviting Mike Tyson to come over and take a shot just to study his technique.
The bad news is that Randy Johnson’s back has been giving him trouble and he’s been scratched from his next start. Uh-oh. There’s no guarantee he wouldn’t utterly implode in the playoffs anyway, of course (as he did last year, though he came through later with a stellar if futile relief outing), but as uneven as he’s been, he still inspires more confidence in a crucial playoff game than Cory Lidle or Darrell Rasner.
Besides which, I don’t think I like this Sheffield-at-first-base experiment. The playoffs are not the time to screw with your defense. According to the mad geniuses at Baseball Prospectus -- a pay site, I’m afraid -- strong defense is one of the few accurate predictors of a team’s postseason success (along with power pitching, which I’m afraid bodes ill for the Yanks, and a good closer, which... well, yeah). I’m not smart enough to check their math, unfortunately, but they make a convincing case. Andy Phillips and Craig Wilson aren’t extraordinary defenders, but they’re solid, and with Damon, Jeter, Rodriguez, Cano, Abreu, Posada, Matsui, and, assuming he’s healthy, Giambi, offense shouldn’t be the Yankees’ biggest concern. Sheffield hasn’t done a horrible job; he has the fundamental skill, he seems determined, and I don’t doubt that eventually he could become a decent first baseman, but two weeks isn’t exactly a lot of time to learn a new position. And just think about what a sick bat he’d be to have on the bench -- remember the impact Daryl Strawberry had in that role for the Yanks back in the day? -- and imagine how terrifying it would be for an opposing pitcher expecting, say, Aaron Guiel or Miguel Cairo to suddenly find himself face to face with Sheff’s bat-waggle.
More on Manny and the Sox (good band name): Gordan Edes wrote a harsh piece in the Globe calling for Boston to trade him. I’ve said this before, but I still think they’d be crazy to do it, unless they got Hafner or Pujols in return, which they won't. Listen, Miguel Tejada is a great player and all, but he’s no replacement for probably one of the 15 or 20 best hitters of all time, however irritating his flakiness and semi-fake-seeming injuries might be. I assume Edes knows vastly more than I do about what’s really going on with the Red Sox, so maybe Manny really is bringing the team down -- maybe they do need him out of there. But they’ll never be able to get equal value for him in a trade, offense-wise.
It all comes down to whether or not you believe team chemistry has a real impact on winning, something the Mets have made me think about recently as well. The answer, as far as I can tell, is “sort of.” More on this another time.
September 21, 2006
Because, Not To Go All John Rocker On You, The 7 Train Is Flawed
My apologies for the long delay between posts. I’ve been busy –in part, in fact, because I’ve been at Shea Stadium the last few days, working on a freelance story for the Village Voice. Much more to come about that in a couple of weeks, I hope. But in the meantime, I’ll do better… because your life was empty and joyless these last five days, wasn’t it? It felt like the sun had gone behind a cloud, right? Yeah, that’s what I thought.
So it’s official: the Yankees clinched! Okay, so maybe that didn’t deserve an exclamation point -- not only has it been inevitable for the last few weeks, but they were on the road and, in fact, lost their game against the Blue Jays; they clinched when the Sox lost to the ever-more-impressive Twins. If the Yankees had started three rookies in a row in early August I would’ve had to be medicated, whereas now it’s merely an interesting look at new arms (Rasner being the only one who inspires any real confidence).
Still, it’s impossible to watch the ensuing good cheer without grinning. People watched the Mets’ joyful and truly raucous celebration Monday night (featuring cigars, fire hoses, oceans of booze, signs, and goggles, and lacking only a ride on a police horse) and contrasted it with the Yankees’ imagined restraint, saying Joe Torre’s team wouldn’t bother exuberantly partying over a mere division title, their ninth in a row after all and only what everyone expected; but hey, they looked pretty happy to me. Appropriately enough it was the young guys -- Melky, Cano and company -- who really seemed to go all out, jumping up and down and yelling cheerfully, presumably as a continuation of their master plan to make me feel increasingly stupid for having taken French in high school.
Meanwhile, there’s a fresh controversy regarding Tom Verducci’s SI piece about that third baseman, but as no felonies or bizarre illicit affairs are involved I’m afraid it doesn’t meet my criteria for discussion. Though I have to say, it’s actually a very well-written article, and much more interesting than much of the tabloid hostility that blanketed the city this summer. Somebody needs to get Richard Ben Cramer on this guy's biography... but not for at least 10 years, at which point I might be able to care again.
All in all, it’s been a remarkably stress-free few weeks for New York baseball. You can fret all you want about the Mets’ sudden inability to hit left-handers or Jason Giambi's wrist, but at this point everyone's just waiting for the real action to start. The challenge will be playing out the last few games without anyone getting injured or falling asleep on camera. Of course anything might happen in the first few weeks of October, but what the hell -- all the usual disclaimers aside, I smell a subway series. And it smells much better than the actual subway.
So it’s official: the Yankees clinched! Okay, so maybe that didn’t deserve an exclamation point -- not only has it been inevitable for the last few weeks, but they were on the road and, in fact, lost their game against the Blue Jays; they clinched when the Sox lost to the ever-more-impressive Twins. If the Yankees had started three rookies in a row in early August I would’ve had to be medicated, whereas now it’s merely an interesting look at new arms (Rasner being the only one who inspires any real confidence).
Still, it’s impossible to watch the ensuing good cheer without grinning. People watched the Mets’ joyful and truly raucous celebration Monday night (featuring cigars, fire hoses, oceans of booze, signs, and goggles, and lacking only a ride on a police horse) and contrasted it with the Yankees’ imagined restraint, saying Joe Torre’s team wouldn’t bother exuberantly partying over a mere division title, their ninth in a row after all and only what everyone expected; but hey, they looked pretty happy to me. Appropriately enough it was the young guys -- Melky, Cano and company -- who really seemed to go all out, jumping up and down and yelling cheerfully, presumably as a continuation of their master plan to make me feel increasingly stupid for having taken French in high school.
Meanwhile, there’s a fresh controversy regarding Tom Verducci’s SI piece about that third baseman, but as no felonies or bizarre illicit affairs are involved I’m afraid it doesn’t meet my criteria for discussion. Though I have to say, it’s actually a very well-written article, and much more interesting than much of the tabloid hostility that blanketed the city this summer. Somebody needs to get Richard Ben Cramer on this guy's biography... but not for at least 10 years, at which point I might be able to care again.
All in all, it’s been a remarkably stress-free few weeks for New York baseball. You can fret all you want about the Mets’ sudden inability to hit left-handers or Jason Giambi's wrist, but at this point everyone's just waiting for the real action to start. The challenge will be playing out the last few games without anyone getting injured or falling asleep on camera. Of course anything might happen in the first few weeks of October, but what the hell -- all the usual disclaimers aside, I smell a subway series. And it smells much better than the actual subway.
September 15, 2006
To Hell With the Purity of the Game: Left Field, Left-Center, Right-Center, Right
The Yankees finished their sweep of the Devil Rays tonight using a selection of rookie pitchers (Darrell Rasner looked good enough to eat) and an outfield of Bernie Williams, Kevin Thompson, and Aaron Guiel. This is where normally I might make a crack about the Rays, but honestly, I don’t have the stomach for it anymore. Hideki Matsui is back and has gone 5 for 10 in his three games since coming off the DL; I could only be happier if he would grow a mustache (work your magic, Sal Fasano!). Or if Bud Selig would create a new fourth outfield position for Melky Cabrera to play.
But with an 11.5 game lead and barely more than two weeks left to play, the drama is long gone from the AL East; the Central is where the action is (and the cluster of mediocre teams in the NL fighting for the chance to be swept by the Mets, but whatever). On that note, there’s good but strange news about Twins rookie phenom Francisco Liriano: he returned from the DL yesterday only to leave the game with renewed elbow pain, and everybody thought he was out for the year – Ron Gardenhire looked like he was about to cry in the postgame interview, and you can’t blame him – but the MRI shows no damage. He may still be out for the season, though, which is too bad and an ill omen for the Twins, because as terrific as Johan Santana is, he’s only one man. Well, maybe one and a half. Just look at those beautiful stats… they’re so shiny…
I was poking around ESPN.com today when, with a shock of realization, it suddenly became clear to me why the Orioles are so hopeless right now: former Mets GM Jim Duquette is their VP of baseball operations. Of course – how did I not know this? I can’t believe I didn’t sense his presence the last time the Yanks were in Baltimore; the plague of locusts should have been a tip-off. “Cautious optimism” is how Duquette describes the vibe at Camden Yards these days. Really? I would have described it as “empty.”
Finally, Jim Kaat retired as an announcer after tonight’s game. He was my favorite, and I’ll miss him – it’s not so much what he says, I realize, though I generally find him intelligent and reasonable, as it is a visceral response to the tone of his voice.
MUSTACHE WATCH 06: No ‘stache news to report, but I did discover today that after “eephus,” the most popular Google search that brings people to this site is “giambi mustache.” Seriously. Clearly there is an underserved market out there for information about baseball player facial hair.
But with an 11.5 game lead and barely more than two weeks left to play, the drama is long gone from the AL East; the Central is where the action is (and the cluster of mediocre teams in the NL fighting for the chance to be swept by the Mets, but whatever). On that note, there’s good but strange news about Twins rookie phenom Francisco Liriano: he returned from the DL yesterday only to leave the game with renewed elbow pain, and everybody thought he was out for the year – Ron Gardenhire looked like he was about to cry in the postgame interview, and you can’t blame him – but the MRI shows no damage. He may still be out for the season, though, which is too bad and an ill omen for the Twins, because as terrific as Johan Santana is, he’s only one man. Well, maybe one and a half. Just look at those beautiful stats… they’re so shiny…
I was poking around ESPN.com today when, with a shock of realization, it suddenly became clear to me why the Orioles are so hopeless right now: former Mets GM Jim Duquette is their VP of baseball operations. Of course – how did I not know this? I can’t believe I didn’t sense his presence the last time the Yanks were in Baltimore; the plague of locusts should have been a tip-off. “Cautious optimism” is how Duquette describes the vibe at Camden Yards these days. Really? I would have described it as “empty.”
Finally, Jim Kaat retired as an announcer after tonight’s game. He was my favorite, and I’ll miss him – it’s not so much what he says, I realize, though I generally find him intelligent and reasonable, as it is a visceral response to the tone of his voice.
MUSTACHE WATCH 06: No ‘stache news to report, but I did discover today that after “eephus,” the most popular Google search that brings people to this site is “giambi mustache.” Seriously. Clearly there is an underserved market out there for information about baseball player facial hair.
September 12, 2006
So Then David Was All, Like, Johnny Likes Me Better Than You, And Derek Was Like, No Way, He SO Does Not...
Randy Johnson was not at his best (perhaps because he's FORTY-THREE damn years old), but the Yankees staged a comeback win last night against the motley collection of misfits that the Orioles insist on referring to as their bullpen. And Joe Torre is now third on the Yanks' all-time manager wins list with 1,068, behind only Casey Stengle and Joe McCarthy, which is kind of staggering when you think about it; even if you don't think Torre had too much to do with some those wins, you still have to be impressed by his sheer longevity.
There’s been much discussion in the last few days about David Ortiz, who rather cattily explained to ESPN why he thinks he should win the MVP award, arguing that a team’s position in the standings shouldn’t be a factor. Not to take anything away from Ortiz -- he’s undoubtedly a great hitter, and indeed is the only baseball player I’ve ever had appear in a recurring nightmare -- but as I was just saying on Sunday, if the standings don’t matter, then the MVP should probably go to Travis Hafner or Ortiz’s own teammate, Manny Ramirez. If not Johan Santana. Regarding Jeter, Ortiz says:
Well. I bet that went over well in the Red Sox clubhouse. He has a valid point, of course, but this is nevertheless the kind of observation that, if you’re Ortiz, you should probably keep to yourself. Jeter’s response to all this was classically boring, except for the last line, which I do believe is a bit of a zinger:
Then, of course, they ran and asked Johnny Damon what he thought. Can somebody please explain to me how the tone of this conversation differs from one you might overhear in a randomly selected middle school cafeteria? It might be unfair to criticize Ortiz, though: I bet he was going to say, “I don’t care about individual awards, I just want to help my team,” but found that Jeter had finally had that phrase officially trademarked.
MUSTACHE WATCH ’06 – SON OF MUSTACHE WATCH: Back by popular demand! Randy Johnson, having realized the error of his ways, is re-growing his signature lip fur. At least I think he is. There’s something on his face, anyway, so for his sake, let’s all hope it’s facial hair.
There’s been much discussion in the last few days about David Ortiz, who rather cattily explained to ESPN why he thinks he should win the MVP award, arguing that a team’s position in the standings shouldn’t be a factor. Not to take anything away from Ortiz -- he’s undoubtedly a great hitter, and indeed is the only baseball player I’ve ever had appear in a recurring nightmare -- but as I was just saying on Sunday, if the standings don’t matter, then the MVP should probably go to Travis Hafner or Ortiz’s own teammate, Manny Ramirez. If not Johan Santana. Regarding Jeter, Ortiz says:
"Don't get me wrong -- he's a great player, having a great season, but he's got a lot of guys in that lineup… Top to bottom, you've got a guy who can hurt you. Come hit in this lineup, see how good you can be.”
Well. I bet that went over well in the Red Sox clubhouse. He has a valid point, of course, but this is nevertheless the kind of observation that, if you’re Ortiz, you should probably keep to yourself. Jeter’s response to all this was classically boring, except for the last line, which I do believe is a bit of a zinger:
"I don't have to do it in his lineup... I'm not thinking about winning the MVP. I'm just thinking about winning the division. No one's focus here is on individual awards. We've got something to play for."
Then, of course, they ran and asked Johnny Damon what he thought. Can somebody please explain to me how the tone of this conversation differs from one you might overhear in a randomly selected middle school cafeteria? It might be unfair to criticize Ortiz, though: I bet he was going to say, “I don’t care about individual awards, I just want to help my team,” but found that Jeter had finally had that phrase officially trademarked.
MUSTACHE WATCH ’06 – SON OF MUSTACHE WATCH: Back by popular demand! Randy Johnson, having realized the error of his ways, is re-growing his signature lip fur. At least I think he is. There’s something on his face, anyway, so for his sake, let’s all hope it’s facial hair.
September 10, 2006
I’m Back. And My Doctor Has Cleared Me To Hit Off A Tee.
I caught today’s Yankee game on the radio while driving down from the Cape. According to John Sterling and Suzyn Waldman, the Orioles rookie starter, Hayden Penn, is just 21 and entered the game with a major league ERA, this season, of 108. That’s right: 108. The Yankees won.
Meanwhile, the days are getting shorter and the kids are back in school, which means it must be time for incessant debate about this year’s MVPs. I’d like to join in, but the MVP strikes me as a particularly ill-defined award. The Cy Young goes to the best pitcher: simple enough, even if opinions will vary on who it is in a given year. But what exactly do we mean by most valuable player? If it were just the best hitter, that would be one thing (probably Travis Hafner or Manny Ramirez in the AL this year); but pitchers are eligible too, and “valuable” seems to imply the player who helped his team the most – which is why most sportswriters/ESPN drones don’t seem to think Hafner stands a snowflake’s chance in Hell, with the Indians currently 17 games back. (Why Ramirez has barely been so much as mentioned, even when the Sox were going strong, is more puzzling to me… unless it’s because of all his trade requests and other antics, which seems petty. If the Sox ever do trade Manny, I think his precise value will become clear very, very quickly).
Just when you think team success needs to be taken into account, though, you remember that the Yankees’ third baseman won the MVP in 2003 with his team, then the Rangers, in dead last place. If your team does that badly, how valuable can you really be? Or, rather, does it actually matter that your team is 17 games out instead of 27? I’m having a surprising amount of trouble finding the official guidelines for this award, but I’ll investigate further tomorrow and see if they shed any light. In any case, it looks like the AL MVP will probably go to Derek Jeter or Jermaine Dye -- who are both having great years, whether or not they deserve this particular accolade, so I can’t get too worked up about the injustice.
Personally, my vote would have gone to Giambi’s mustache, but I don’t think it has enough at-bats to qualify. My second choice, though, would be Johan Santana, who has been mind-bogglingly awesome all season.
Meanwhile, the days are getting shorter and the kids are back in school, which means it must be time for incessant debate about this year’s MVPs. I’d like to join in, but the MVP strikes me as a particularly ill-defined award. The Cy Young goes to the best pitcher: simple enough, even if opinions will vary on who it is in a given year. But what exactly do we mean by most valuable player? If it were just the best hitter, that would be one thing (probably Travis Hafner or Manny Ramirez in the AL this year); but pitchers are eligible too, and “valuable” seems to imply the player who helped his team the most – which is why most sportswriters/ESPN drones don’t seem to think Hafner stands a snowflake’s chance in Hell, with the Indians currently 17 games back. (Why Ramirez has barely been so much as mentioned, even when the Sox were going strong, is more puzzling to me… unless it’s because of all his trade requests and other antics, which seems petty. If the Sox ever do trade Manny, I think his precise value will become clear very, very quickly).
Just when you think team success needs to be taken into account, though, you remember that the Yankees’ third baseman won the MVP in 2003 with his team, then the Rangers, in dead last place. If your team does that badly, how valuable can you really be? Or, rather, does it actually matter that your team is 17 games out instead of 27? I’m having a surprising amount of trouble finding the official guidelines for this award, but I’ll investigate further tomorrow and see if they shed any light. In any case, it looks like the AL MVP will probably go to Derek Jeter or Jermaine Dye -- who are both having great years, whether or not they deserve this particular accolade, so I can’t get too worked up about the injustice.
Personally, my vote would have gone to Giambi’s mustache, but I don’t think it has enough at-bats to qualify. My second choice, though, would be Johan Santana, who has been mind-bogglingly awesome all season.
September 07, 2006
Elegy For a Mustache
Greetings from the Wellfleet public library. I have neither internet access nor cable TV where I'm staying, which means I’m nice and relaxed but have only a very, very sketchy idea of what’s going on. But it seems that, in sum, Randy Johnson and Jorge Posada are heating up, Hideki Matsui is on his way back, and the Royals still pretty much suck. Is that about right?
I was sorry to see that Doug Mientkiewicz is injured, because for a while there the Royals’ infield was a real Festival of Consonants. “Grudzielanek to Mientkiewicz for the force”… not exactly “Tinkers to Evers to Chance,” is it? The Royals also have a relief pitcher named Ambiorix. Awesome. He’s like a long-lost Asterix character.
While the local Boston news resolutely refuses to show me even 30 seconds’ worth of Yankees highlights, or even tell me the score, they did show a quick, sweet clip of Anibal Sanchez’s no-hitter for the Marlins last night; it was only his 13th major league start. It’s really remarkable how well the Marlins are doing this year, given that their most established player is probably Dontrelle Willis, and I’m not even sure he can drink legally yet. I hope they win the Wild Card -- it would be a great story, and they're only three games back from the Padres, about whom I have a lifelong inability to care.
Meanwhile, the Mets did indeed exorcise some Braves demons yesterday, thanks in part to New York’s best (okay, fine, only) Jewish pro athlete. Thank you, Shawn Green, for making my grandfather very proud.
MUSTACHE WATCH ’06: It’s a sad day here at Mustache Watch. Jason Giambi has finally shaved off the porn ‘stache. I admit that I was appalled at first, but I now believe that reaction was born out of ignorance and fear; the moustache worked hard every day, and slowly, it earned my respect -- yes, and even my affection. In other words, it grew on me... though not, thank Christ, literally. Our thoughts are with Giambi and his family at this difficult time, and out of respect for what his mustache accomplished in its too-short time among us, this feature will be suspended until future notice.
I was sorry to see that Doug Mientkiewicz is injured, because for a while there the Royals’ infield was a real Festival of Consonants. “Grudzielanek to Mientkiewicz for the force”… not exactly “Tinkers to Evers to Chance,” is it? The Royals also have a relief pitcher named Ambiorix. Awesome. He’s like a long-lost Asterix character.
While the local Boston news resolutely refuses to show me even 30 seconds’ worth of Yankees highlights, or even tell me the score, they did show a quick, sweet clip of Anibal Sanchez’s no-hitter for the Marlins last night; it was only his 13th major league start. It’s really remarkable how well the Marlins are doing this year, given that their most established player is probably Dontrelle Willis, and I’m not even sure he can drink legally yet. I hope they win the Wild Card -- it would be a great story, and they're only three games back from the Padres, about whom I have a lifelong inability to care.
Meanwhile, the Mets did indeed exorcise some Braves demons yesterday, thanks in part to New York’s best (okay, fine, only) Jewish pro athlete. Thank you, Shawn Green, for making my grandfather very proud.
MUSTACHE WATCH ’06: It’s a sad day here at Mustache Watch. Jason Giambi has finally shaved off the porn ‘stache. I admit that I was appalled at first, but I now believe that reaction was born out of ignorance and fear; the moustache worked hard every day, and slowly, it earned my respect -- yes, and even my affection. In other words, it grew on me... though not, thank Christ, literally. Our thoughts are with Giambi and his family at this difficult time, and out of respect for what his mustache accomplished in its too-short time among us, this feature will be suspended until future notice.
September 04, 2006
The Horror, the Horror (Also, the Royals)
The Yankees had a nice easy win yesterday; as much as I like the Twins, they seem to be skidding, and if they don't get Liriano back in the very near future, I fear for their playoff chances. Darrell Rasner pitched an excellent game in his first Yankee start, but this has been happening a lot recently -- unknown, lousy, or aging pitchers often throw like aces in their Yankee debuts; I give you Brad Halsey, Al Leiter, Sidney Ponson, and Aaron Small, just off the top of my head, but I know there've been many more. I hereby dub this The Ponson Effect. Meanwhile, the third baseman... yeah, he's back.
The Mets yesterday managed to lose, 2-1, a game in which they only allowed the Astros one hit. Ah, I do miss El Duque. They'll take on the Braves tonight, and though they’ve already proven they can beat them this year, it’s still fascinating to watch a team exorcise its demons on live television. That game promises to hold more interest than tonight’s Yanks-Royals match-up, however fun it is to watch Chien-Ming Wang pitch. The problem with the Royals is that when a good team beats them, it’s unimpressive, while if they lose it’s embarrassing (well, okay -- that’s one of the problems with the Royals). They did just take two of three from the Twins and White Sox, however, so at least we can expect them to put up a fight.
I’ll be on vacation tomorrow through Sunday, September 10th – into the heart of darkness, or at least Red Sox territory, on Cape Cod. I will blog as my sporadic access to wifi allows. In previous years I wore Yankees shirts to the beach just to be difficult, but this month the combination of the Sox falling nine games behind, Ortiz’s heart scare, and, most of all, rookie pitcher John Lester’s awful diagnosis of lymphoma (fortunately a treatable form, it sounds like) have sucked all the fun out of the rivalry. Horribly selfish of them, really.
Meanwhile, here’s one more reason to dislike Kenny Lofton, his relatively poor performance for the Yankees aside: I was flipping past the YES network this afternoon, and caught the tail end of Jim Abbott’s 1993 no-hitter against the Indians. This is a game that, if you try to describe it to people who weren’t following baseball at the time, they will absolutely refuse to believe it really happened. Anyway, I tuned in at the beginning of the ninth inning, in which Lofton led off -- and tried to bunt his way on base. Now, I understand that he was just trying do his job and get his team some baserunners, especially since it was still a close game... and I can respect that, I really can… but, dude. The man has one hand. Swing the fucking bat.
Mustache Watch ’06: While I missed most of yesterday’s game, I’m told that Craig Wilson seems to have shaved as well (many thanks to my loyal readers, on whom I rely for these kinds of hot tips). The tide seems to be turning, though Jason Giambi still stands like a rock. Please don't hesitate to shoot me an email, or post a comment, if there are any new developments in my absence.
The Mets yesterday managed to lose, 2-1, a game in which they only allowed the Astros one hit. Ah, I do miss El Duque. They'll take on the Braves tonight, and though they’ve already proven they can beat them this year, it’s still fascinating to watch a team exorcise its demons on live television. That game promises to hold more interest than tonight’s Yanks-Royals match-up, however fun it is to watch Chien-Ming Wang pitch. The problem with the Royals is that when a good team beats them, it’s unimpressive, while if they lose it’s embarrassing (well, okay -- that’s one of the problems with the Royals). They did just take two of three from the Twins and White Sox, however, so at least we can expect them to put up a fight.
I’ll be on vacation tomorrow through Sunday, September 10th – into the heart of darkness, or at least Red Sox territory, on Cape Cod. I will blog as my sporadic access to wifi allows. In previous years I wore Yankees shirts to the beach just to be difficult, but this month the combination of the Sox falling nine games behind, Ortiz’s heart scare, and, most of all, rookie pitcher John Lester’s awful diagnosis of lymphoma (fortunately a treatable form, it sounds like) have sucked all the fun out of the rivalry. Horribly selfish of them, really.
Meanwhile, here’s one more reason to dislike Kenny Lofton, his relatively poor performance for the Yankees aside: I was flipping past the YES network this afternoon, and caught the tail end of Jim Abbott’s 1993 no-hitter against the Indians. This is a game that, if you try to describe it to people who weren’t following baseball at the time, they will absolutely refuse to believe it really happened. Anyway, I tuned in at the beginning of the ninth inning, in which Lofton led off -- and tried to bunt his way on base. Now, I understand that he was just trying do his job and get his team some baserunners, especially since it was still a close game... and I can respect that, I really can… but, dude. The man has one hand. Swing the fucking bat.
Mustache Watch ’06: While I missed most of yesterday’s game, I’m told that Craig Wilson seems to have shaved as well (many thanks to my loyal readers, on whom I rely for these kinds of hot tips). The tide seems to be turning, though Jason Giambi still stands like a rock. Please don't hesitate to shoot me an email, or post a comment, if there are any new developments in my absence.
September 02, 2006
Talk About Impaired Judgement... Where Are That Girl's Friends?!
These games with the Twins were supposed to be another possible playoff preview, but it hasn’t quite worked out that way; Cory Lidle against Carlos Silva last night was probably the marquee pitching match-up of the weekend. Today’s game featured Scott Baker and Jeff Karstens, and while Karstens seems like a promising young pitcher, if you see him starting a game in the postseason it will mean that something has gone horribly wrong. He actually pitched extremely well, but Baker, with his 6.55 ERA and 3-7 record, temporarily morphed into Walter Johnson (nifty trick, that), and the Yanks lost the rain-shortened game 6-1.
Jim Kaat and Al Leiter are the best announcing team the Yankees have fielded for a while, both smart (about baseball, anyway), reasonable, and affable. When Leiter’s in the booth, I can’t help remembering that classic photo of him apparently playing beer pong with a bunch of random college kids, originally posted on the sleazy yet enticing gossip site On the DL -- though of course, it only makes me like him more. Stars: they’re just like Us!
Unfortunately, while trying to find that link, I inadvertently stumbled onto this decidedly disconcerting picture of our old friend Sir Sidney Ponson, which is forcing me to seriously consider swearing off alcohol forever.
Meanwhile, In a battle of ineffective ex-Yankee pitchers, Jeff Weaver took on Shawn Chacon in today’s Cardinals-Pirates game. I was about to make a snarky comment about how, according to the rules, one team would nevertheless have to win, but I see the final score was 1-0 Pittsburgh. Well, fine. Never mind then.
Mustache Watch ‘06: One mustache falls, and another rises to take its place. Ron Villone’s lip-caterpillar is no more (perhaps when he got back from the Yankees’ recent road trip he had a little chat with his wife). Bullpen newcomer Brian Bruney’s, however, is coming along nicely.
Jim Kaat and Al Leiter are the best announcing team the Yankees have fielded for a while, both smart (about baseball, anyway), reasonable, and affable. When Leiter’s in the booth, I can’t help remembering that classic photo of him apparently playing beer pong with a bunch of random college kids, originally posted on the sleazy yet enticing gossip site On the DL -- though of course, it only makes me like him more. Stars: they’re just like Us!
Unfortunately, while trying to find that link, I inadvertently stumbled onto this decidedly disconcerting picture of our old friend Sir Sidney Ponson, which is forcing me to seriously consider swearing off alcohol forever.
Meanwhile, In a battle of ineffective ex-Yankee pitchers, Jeff Weaver took on Shawn Chacon in today’s Cardinals-Pirates game. I was about to make a snarky comment about how, according to the rules, one team would nevertheless have to win, but I see the final score was 1-0 Pittsburgh. Well, fine. Never mind then.
Mustache Watch ‘06: One mustache falls, and another rises to take its place. Ron Villone’s lip-caterpillar is no more (perhaps when he got back from the Yankees’ recent road trip he had a little chat with his wife). Bullpen newcomer Brian Bruney’s, however, is coming along nicely.
August 31, 2006
He Has Great Numbers Against Right-Handed Cameramen, Though
Randy Johnson and the third baseman seemed to rediscover their old selves today, and the Yanks beat the Tigers 6-4, winning a second series against, supposedly, the best team in baseball. There’s no denying that much of the Tigers’ pitching staff is terrific, but I think the main reason I can’t take them as seriously as I should is that the putative ace of their staff is Kenny Rogers.
If there’s one thing Yankees and Mets fans can agree on, it’s that Kenny Rogers is an incompetent dickwad. Despite his best efforts, the Yankees were able to overcome his presence on their team in 1996, but the Mets weren’t so lucky. I remember the last game of the 1999 NLCS very clearly: it was my freshman year of college, and one of my good friends was a passionate, die-hard Mets fan. I watched the game with him and his roommates, a terrifying nail-biter coming just one day after a truly epic, draining and exhilarating 15-inning walk-off Mets win. That season the Braves were at their most arrogant and obnoxious (and anti-New York), and it was hard not to root for them to go down. The Mets fell behind 7-3 but fought back -- Mike Piazza tied it up with a dramatic home run, and the game looked like it was going to go on forever, until, of course, in the 11th inning, Kenny Rogers came in and… walked in the Braves’ winning run.
It was one of the worst losses I’ve ever seen, the kind that, if it happens to your team, can change you forever. Rogers’ stats in New York don’t seem that bad at first glance, but his postseason numbers are chilling: zero wins, three losses, 32 hits and 16 walks in just over 20 innings pitched, and an ERA of 8.85. Good luck with that, Detroit. I’d rather start El Duque’s arthritic 65-year-old second cousin in a playoff game.
Meanwhile, Mariano Rivera has soreness in his pitching arm, although he saved the game today without too many problems. Sounds like it’s nothing serious, but just hearing “Rivera” and “MRI” in the same sentence makes an 8-game lead seem suddenly very small.
Mustache Watch ’06: Randy Johnson has shaved off his distinctive facial hair as well (in case you were wondering: no, it doesn’t help). They’re dropping like flies.
Interesting note on the Newsday beat writers' blog: Pavano declined to apologize to his teammates, something even grouchy jackass Kevin Brown did after punching a wall and breaking his hand. Damn – if you need etiquette tips from Kevin Brown, you have serious problems.
If there’s one thing Yankees and Mets fans can agree on, it’s that Kenny Rogers is an incompetent dickwad. Despite his best efforts, the Yankees were able to overcome his presence on their team in 1996, but the Mets weren’t so lucky. I remember the last game of the 1999 NLCS very clearly: it was my freshman year of college, and one of my good friends was a passionate, die-hard Mets fan. I watched the game with him and his roommates, a terrifying nail-biter coming just one day after a truly epic, draining and exhilarating 15-inning walk-off Mets win. That season the Braves were at their most arrogant and obnoxious (and anti-New York), and it was hard not to root for them to go down. The Mets fell behind 7-3 but fought back -- Mike Piazza tied it up with a dramatic home run, and the game looked like it was going to go on forever, until, of course, in the 11th inning, Kenny Rogers came in and… walked in the Braves’ winning run.
It was one of the worst losses I’ve ever seen, the kind that, if it happens to your team, can change you forever. Rogers’ stats in New York don’t seem that bad at first glance, but his postseason numbers are chilling: zero wins, three losses, 32 hits and 16 walks in just over 20 innings pitched, and an ERA of 8.85. Good luck with that, Detroit. I’d rather start El Duque’s arthritic 65-year-old second cousin in a playoff game.
Meanwhile, Mariano Rivera has soreness in his pitching arm, although he saved the game today without too many problems. Sounds like it’s nothing serious, but just hearing “Rivera” and “MRI” in the same sentence makes an 8-game lead seem suddenly very small.
Mustache Watch ’06: Randy Johnson has shaved off his distinctive facial hair as well (in case you were wondering: no, it doesn’t help). They’re dropping like flies.
Interesting note on the Newsday beat writers' blog: Pavano declined to apologize to his teammates, something even grouchy jackass Kevin Brown did after punching a wall and breaking his hand. Damn – if you need etiquette tips from Kevin Brown, you have serious problems.
August 30, 2006
Whereas Randy Johnson's Starts Are More Like Unpredictable Cage Fights With Piranhas
I’m selfishly glad the Tigers game was rained out last night, since I was going to have to miss it anyway. This way I was able to listen at wor--... that is, check the score ever so briefly between bouts of massive productivity. Chien-Ming Wang pitched a beautiful game this afternoon, efficient and clean; this series really does have the feel of playoff-style baseball (knock on wood). The Tigers have played well so far, and their pitchers have been terrific, but the Yankees seem to match up fairly well against them (knock, knock) and honestly, at this point I think I’d be more afraid of the Twins or As in a short playoff series (knock, knock, knock. If things go wrong, you’re not pinning it on me).
Tonight, Jaret Wright skipped his usual white-knuckle, near-disaster, tightrope-walk-over-a-tank-of-piranhas act (which he occasionally varies with an exciting falling-into-a-tank-of-piranhas act) and pitched one of his best and longest games of the year. Of course, Scott Proctor then blew the 3-2 lead by allowing a home run in the ninth inning with two outs; but this didn't strike me as the crushing loss it might have been, since I couldn't help feeling that under normal circumstances, if Mariano Rivera or even Kyle Farnsworth had been available, things might well have gone differently.
Meanwhile, like everyone else, I made plenty of jokes about Carl Pavano and his crystalline body. But the fact that he cracked a couple of ribs in a car accident, and then didn’t tell anyone from the team so that he could try to pitch through it, tells me two things: one, Carl Pavano is not very bright; and two, he is sensitive to the heaping piles of criticism coming at him from all sides. As ridiculous as the entire situation is, I'm getting the uncomfortable feeling that at this point, everyone’s piling on the weakest kid in class. The media smells blood (today Bob Klapisch calls him a gutless 'roid-head weasel, more or less in those words) and his own teammates seem to loathe him. Yikes. Man, if they had just referred to his buttocks injury as a “lower back strain” or something, many of these PR issues could have been avoided.
A few more thoughts:
The Red Sox are now eight games back. They’ve been playing without Manny Ramirez AND David Ortiz, which is like trying to go for a jog without your legs. Big Papi is undergoing tests for an irregular heartbeat, which fortunately looks like it probably isn’t anything too serious, and there’s been a surprising outpouring of good wishes towards Ortiz from Yankee fans; I think we all have some variation on Stockholm Syndrome, wherein if you’re held hostage long enough, you start to sympathize with your captor. For someone who haunts my nightmares and inflicted seemingly permanent emotional scarring on me less than two years ago, he does seem like a nice enough guy.
Watching Sal Fasano run is a strange and oddly mesmerizing thing. Believe it or not, I'm having trouble finding a good photo of this to link to...
What the Christ is that thing on Magglio Ordonez’s head? Unacceptable. There are children watching these games.
Mustache Watch '06: Johnny Damon’s mustache is dead, long live Johnny Damon’s mustache. As a fun interactive bonus activity, repeat the phrase "mustache watch" under your breath for a few minutes and see how much sense those words make by the time you're done.
Tonight, Jaret Wright skipped his usual white-knuckle, near-disaster, tightrope-walk-over-a-tank-of-piranhas act (which he occasionally varies with an exciting falling-into-a-tank-of-piranhas act) and pitched one of his best and longest games of the year. Of course, Scott Proctor then blew the 3-2 lead by allowing a home run in the ninth inning with two outs; but this didn't strike me as the crushing loss it might have been, since I couldn't help feeling that under normal circumstances, if Mariano Rivera or even Kyle Farnsworth had been available, things might well have gone differently.
Meanwhile, like everyone else, I made plenty of jokes about Carl Pavano and his crystalline body. But the fact that he cracked a couple of ribs in a car accident, and then didn’t tell anyone from the team so that he could try to pitch through it, tells me two things: one, Carl Pavano is not very bright; and two, he is sensitive to the heaping piles of criticism coming at him from all sides. As ridiculous as the entire situation is, I'm getting the uncomfortable feeling that at this point, everyone’s piling on the weakest kid in class. The media smells blood (today Bob Klapisch calls him a gutless 'roid-head weasel, more or less in those words) and his own teammates seem to loathe him. Yikes. Man, if they had just referred to his buttocks injury as a “lower back strain” or something, many of these PR issues could have been avoided.
A few more thoughts:
The Red Sox are now eight games back. They’ve been playing without Manny Ramirez AND David Ortiz, which is like trying to go for a jog without your legs. Big Papi is undergoing tests for an irregular heartbeat, which fortunately looks like it probably isn’t anything too serious, and there’s been a surprising outpouring of good wishes towards Ortiz from Yankee fans; I think we all have some variation on Stockholm Syndrome, wherein if you’re held hostage long enough, you start to sympathize with your captor. For someone who haunts my nightmares and inflicted seemingly permanent emotional scarring on me less than two years ago, he does seem like a nice enough guy.
Watching Sal Fasano run is a strange and oddly mesmerizing thing. Believe it or not, I'm having trouble finding a good photo of this to link to...
What the Christ is that thing on Magglio Ordonez’s head? Unacceptable. There are children watching these games.
Mustache Watch '06: Johnny Damon’s mustache is dead, long live Johnny Damon’s mustache. As a fun interactive bonus activity, repeat the phrase "mustache watch" under your breath for a few minutes and see how much sense those words make by the time you're done.
August 28, 2006
Mama Zimmerman Didn't Raise Any Haters
The guy has a song about Catfish Hunter, so it seemed like a fair bet to assume Bob Dylan was a Yankees fan. In fact, that’s not totally accurate; in this month’s Rolling Stone interview with Jonathan Lethem, Dylan says: “The problem with baseball teams is all the players get traded, and what your favorite team used to be – a couple of guys you really liked on the team,
they’re not on the team now – and you can’t possibly make that team your favorite team. It’s like your favorite uniform.”
Fair point, especially if you grew up in the era before free agency, I’d imagine. But, he goes on, “I mean… yeah… I like Detroit. Though I like Ozzie [Guillen] as a manager. And I don’t know how anybody can’t like Derek [Jeter]. I’d rather have him on my team than anybody.”
Damn straight, Bob. Imagine Derek Jeter coming up to bat to “Subterranean Homesick Blues” -- It’ll never happen (I don’t think DJ is much of a classic rock fan), but it would be a beautiful thing. And also: dinner with Bob Dylan and Ozzie Guillen. How much would you pay to be at that table?
Ozzie: We're cheating on the mound?... They're mad. They can't admit that a Latino kicked their ass… That's why I don't get along with too many managers. Because they hate my [expletive] ass, because I don't kiss their ass, and I didn't kiss anyone's ass to get this job.
Bob: No, I do not feel that good when I see the heartbreaks you embrace, If I was a master thief perhaps I'd rob them.
Ozzie: I'll tell you one thing, if Padilla hit me twice, right now I'd be in the hospital or I'd be dead. But I will fight. I will fight because the way he hit him.
Bob: How many roads must a man walk down, before you can call him a man? Yes and how many seas must a white dove fly, before she sleeps in the sand?
Ozzie: Fucking fag.
Somebody get Tom Stoppard on this, asap.
they’re not on the team now – and you can’t possibly make that team your favorite team. It’s like your favorite uniform.”
Fair point, especially if you grew up in the era before free agency, I’d imagine. But, he goes on, “I mean… yeah… I like Detroit. Though I like Ozzie [Guillen] as a manager. And I don’t know how anybody can’t like Derek [Jeter]. I’d rather have him on my team than anybody.”
Damn straight, Bob. Imagine Derek Jeter coming up to bat to “Subterranean Homesick Blues” -- It’ll never happen (I don’t think DJ is much of a classic rock fan), but it would be a beautiful thing. And also: dinner with Bob Dylan and Ozzie Guillen. How much would you pay to be at that table?
Ozzie: We're cheating on the mound?... They're mad. They can't admit that a Latino kicked their ass… That's why I don't get along with too many managers. Because they hate my [expletive] ass, because I don't kiss their ass, and I didn't kiss anyone's ass to get this job.
Bob: No, I do not feel that good when I see the heartbreaks you embrace, If I was a master thief perhaps I'd rob them.
Ozzie: I'll tell you one thing, if Padilla hit me twice, right now I'd be in the hospital or I'd be dead. But I will fight. I will fight because the way he hit him.
Bob: How many roads must a man walk down, before you can call him a man? Yes and how many seas must a white dove fly, before she sleeps in the sand?
Ozzie: Fucking fag.
Somebody get Tom Stoppard on this, asap.
Come Back Miguel, All Is Forgiven
Kyle Farnsworth had a medium-sized meltdown yesterday, but the Yanks held on by their fingernails (or rather, by their Greatest Closer Ever, of All Time, Seriously) to win; I’ll take it, and somehow they still lead the Sox by 6.5 games. I only wish the Angels could have lost in a more painful and/or humiliating fashion. It was great to see Bernie Williams flashing some serious power -- I know, I know, he’s a defensive liability these days and miles away from the hitter he used to be, but due to over a decade of conditioning, I’m still glad to see him at the plate in a big spot, logic and reason and VORP be damned. This is apparently something that Joe Torre and I have in common.
I’d also like to take a moment to congratulate Nick “The Stick” Green on pushing his batting average over .200 yesterday… and his defensive errors are certainly keeping everyone on their toes. I’ve said many things this year I never could have imagined I’d say back in March, things like “That Johnny Damon is actually kind of attractive” and “Where would this team be without Scott Proctor?” and “No, that pitcher is still on the DL with bruised buttocks,” but here’s another one: “I miss Miguel Cairo profoundly.”
I recently heard a rumor that there are, strangely enough, a few other teams out there besides the Yankees and Red Sox and their current opponents. It seems to be true, and I’m psyched to see that the Twins are still kicking ass. They lost today, but they lead the White Sox by half a game for the Wild Card, after being 11 games back in June. Outside of the Yanks, the Twins are probably my favorite team: I like that they don’t have much money, but stay competitive and have a dedicated fan base. I’m touched by the, uh, quirky Hefty Bag outfield wall. Torii Hunter is maybe the best quote in baseball, almost as entertaining as Ozzie Guillen, but much less of an asshole. Johan Santana is barrels of fun to watch when he’s not pitching against your team, and it looks like Liriano will be too. As if all that wasn’t enough, they have a pitcher named Boof Bonser. I’m down. After this coming weekend, anyway.
I’d also like to take a moment to congratulate Nick “The Stick” Green on pushing his batting average over .200 yesterday… and his defensive errors are certainly keeping everyone on their toes. I’ve said many things this year I never could have imagined I’d say back in March, things like “That Johnny Damon is actually kind of attractive” and “Where would this team be without Scott Proctor?” and “No, that pitcher is still on the DL with bruised buttocks,” but here’s another one: “I miss Miguel Cairo profoundly.”
I recently heard a rumor that there are, strangely enough, a few other teams out there besides the Yankees and Red Sox and their current opponents. It seems to be true, and I’m psyched to see that the Twins are still kicking ass. They lost today, but they lead the White Sox by half a game for the Wild Card, after being 11 games back in June. Outside of the Yanks, the Twins are probably my favorite team: I like that they don’t have much money, but stay competitive and have a dedicated fan base. I’m touched by the, uh, quirky Hefty Bag outfield wall. Torii Hunter is maybe the best quote in baseball, almost as entertaining as Ozzie Guillen, but much less of an asshole. Johan Santana is barrels of fun to watch when he’s not pitching against your team, and it looks like Liriano will be too. As if all that wasn’t enough, they have a pitcher named Boof Bonser. I’m down. After this coming weekend, anyway.
August 27, 2006
Zzzzzzzzz...
Sorry for the pause between posts. I was waiting until I had something to say besides “the Yankees look tired and aren’t playing well,” but the team hasn’t cooperated. Damn I hate losing to the Angels -- as I may have mentioned before, my least-favorite team in baseball, if not all of sports (though I may hate the Finnish curling team more... long story, don’t ask). One or two more looks at that godforsaken monkey and I can't vouch for the safety of my television set.
In lieu of panicking, I’m going to chalk the Yankees' recent stretch of 1-4 baseball up to exhaustion, and you certainly can’t blame them for that (particularly since the Red Sox have been playing nearly as badly and are still five games back; for some illogical reason, five games seems like a solid lead, whereas four does not). They’ve now played 20 games in 19 days. Forgetting about the Angels for a moment -- indeed, for as long as possible -- the Yankees are certainly a better team than the Mariners, who took two of three from them earlier in the week. Their hitters are worn out and their pitchers are worse, and that isn’t a winning combination. With the semi-promising Jeff Karstens on the mound, I don’t expect the Yanks to snap out of it today, but fortunately they have tomorrow off to regroup.
I know everyone is shocked, stunned, astonished, astounded, flabbergasted, staggered, and otherwise amazed to learn that Carl Pavano may have had another setback, this time feeling some discomfort in his oblique muscle. I know. My world is shattered too. Now… here’s the thing. If Carl Pavano has a body made of tissue paper and Swarovski crystal, that’s not his fault. Just the way he was born. It’s a shame, too, because honestly, the guy is easy on the eyes -- though of course if you kissed him, it would probably shatter his jaw, which is a bit of a turn off. That said, if you had "bruised buttocks" like Pavano did in Spring Training this year... well, wouldn't you lie about it? Out of sheer embarassment, wouldn't you keep your mouth shut and play through it? I feel bad for the guy, he's taking a lot of crap from all sides, but he does seem to have brought it on himself.
In lieu of panicking, I’m going to chalk the Yankees' recent stretch of 1-4 baseball up to exhaustion, and you certainly can’t blame them for that (particularly since the Red Sox have been playing nearly as badly and are still five games back; for some illogical reason, five games seems like a solid lead, whereas four does not). They’ve now played 20 games in 19 days. Forgetting about the Angels for a moment -- indeed, for as long as possible -- the Yankees are certainly a better team than the Mariners, who took two of three from them earlier in the week. Their hitters are worn out and their pitchers are worse, and that isn’t a winning combination. With the semi-promising Jeff Karstens on the mound, I don’t expect the Yanks to snap out of it today, but fortunately they have tomorrow off to regroup.
I know everyone is shocked, stunned, astonished, astounded, flabbergasted, staggered, and otherwise amazed to learn that Carl Pavano may have had another setback, this time feeling some discomfort in his oblique muscle. I know. My world is shattered too. Now… here’s the thing. If Carl Pavano has a body made of tissue paper and Swarovski crystal, that’s not his fault. Just the way he was born. It’s a shame, too, because honestly, the guy is easy on the eyes -- though of course if you kissed him, it would probably shatter his jaw, which is a bit of a turn off. That said, if you had "bruised buttocks" like Pavano did in Spring Training this year... well, wouldn't you lie about it? Out of sheer embarassment, wouldn't you keep your mouth shut and play through it? I feel bad for the guy, he's taking a lot of crap from all sides, but he does seem to have brought it on himself.
August 24, 2006
Breaking News!: Gary Sheffield Might Be Kind Of A Dick
The YES Network was showing a game from last year earlier this evening. Hey, remember Tony Womack? Can we all agree to pretend that never happened? Let’s just say that Robinson Cano started 2005 at second base last year, and, in the face of any evidence to the contrary, deny, deny, deny.
Meanwhile, both Sports Illustrated and Will Carroll at Baseball Prospectus have damning articles today suggesting that Gary Sheffield may be deliberately taking his sweet time coming back from his wrist injury, reading the writing on the wall from the Bobby Abreu signing and saving himself for a new team next year. Carroll writes,
I’m not too upset about the Sheffield situation myself, for the very simple reason that I don’t really want Gary Sheffield to come back. Don’t get me wrong – he’s a great and intimidating hitter, and he earned his money the past two years. That said, Melky Cabrera, while certainly not a hitter of Sheffield's caliber (yet), is roughly 10 times more fun to watch, easier to root for, and not that much more than half his age. You can see just by looking at him how much he loves playing, which is more than I could ever say for Sheffield, who has been scowling without pause since I was seven years old. If Sheffield comes back, Cabrera would be forced to the bench, and given what he’s done for the Yankees this season, that just doesn't feel right. It’s going to be hard enough finding room in the outfield for everyone when Matsui returns (a guy who, if you’ll recall, actually apologized for breaking his wrist while trying to make a difficult play -- after which, I might add, he threw the ball back in. Can you imagine an American player doing that? It’s a struggle just to get out athletes to apologize for beating their wives on the street).
So if Sheffield wants to go slow, I’m not going to protest. The fact that both writers cite seemingly knowledgeable sources makes me wonder whether the Yankees are deliberately leaking this information, preparing their fans for the fairly inevitable decision to not extend Sheff’s contract. I wouldn't put it past Brian Cashman, who I'm more and more convinced is some kind of evil genius. And I mean that as a compliment.
In other news: doubtless not for the first time in his life, what Jason Giambi has is catching. I’m referring here to his now-famous porn ‘stache, which has spread to, at last count, Ron Villone, Johnny Damon, and Jaret Wright. I’m all for team bonding, but this is having an unfortunate influence over some of my male Yankee fan acquaintances. Boys, it’s a sad truth that in our society professional athletes can get away with a lot of things that regular citizens can’t, from speeding to, say, lying in front of a Grand Jury; and I’m afraid this is one of those scenarios. They should run a disclaimer before games: civilians, at least those without accepting and understanding wives, should be careful about trying this at home. Honestly, Ron Villone probably should too.
Meanwhile, both Sports Illustrated and Will Carroll at Baseball Prospectus have damning articles today suggesting that Gary Sheffield may be deliberately taking his sweet time coming back from his wrist injury, reading the writing on the wall from the Bobby Abreu signing and saving himself for a new team next year. Carroll writes,
I've been hearing whispers, over and over from disparate and independent sources, that Sheffield was slowing his rehab deliberately, feeling no pressure to return. "He says he's not needed," one source told me, "and that he's got to worry more about next year than this year." Several people I spoke with that have knowledge of his rehab process claim that Sheffield shouldn't be behind Hideki Matsui. "[Matsui']s busted his [rear] and [Sheffield] is negotiating his contract. He talks more to his agents than he does the trainers."In his SI piece, Jon Heyman wonders why Yankees fans aren’t angry about this, whereas they’re only too eager to vent their rage at, say, certain former MVPs who are having off-years but trying their hardest.
I’m not too upset about the Sheffield situation myself, for the very simple reason that I don’t really want Gary Sheffield to come back. Don’t get me wrong – he’s a great and intimidating hitter, and he earned his money the past two years. That said, Melky Cabrera, while certainly not a hitter of Sheffield's caliber (yet), is roughly 10 times more fun to watch, easier to root for, and not that much more than half his age. You can see just by looking at him how much he loves playing, which is more than I could ever say for Sheffield, who has been scowling without pause since I was seven years old. If Sheffield comes back, Cabrera would be forced to the bench, and given what he’s done for the Yankees this season, that just doesn't feel right. It’s going to be hard enough finding room in the outfield for everyone when Matsui returns (a guy who, if you’ll recall, actually apologized for breaking his wrist while trying to make a difficult play -- after which, I might add, he threw the ball back in. Can you imagine an American player doing that? It’s a struggle just to get out athletes to apologize for beating their wives on the street).
So if Sheffield wants to go slow, I’m not going to protest. The fact that both writers cite seemingly knowledgeable sources makes me wonder whether the Yankees are deliberately leaking this information, preparing their fans for the fairly inevitable decision to not extend Sheff’s contract. I wouldn't put it past Brian Cashman, who I'm more and more convinced is some kind of evil genius. And I mean that as a compliment.
In other news: doubtless not for the first time in his life, what Jason Giambi has is catching. I’m referring here to his now-famous porn ‘stache, which has spread to, at last count, Ron Villone, Johnny Damon, and Jaret Wright. I’m all for team bonding, but this is having an unfortunate influence over some of my male Yankee fan acquaintances. Boys, it’s a sad truth that in our society professional athletes can get away with a lot of things that regular citizens can’t, from speeding to, say, lying in front of a Grand Jury; and I’m afraid this is one of those scenarios. They should run a disclaimer before games: civilians, at least those without accepting and understanding wives, should be careful about trying this at home. Honestly, Ron Villone probably should too.
August 22, 2006
Well, Okay Then
Twenty-four hours later, I’m still a little stunned. Like everyone else, I was expecting the usual Yankees-Red Sox show, in which the two incredibly evenly-matched teams take turns beating the crap out of each other, and the season is ultimately decided by who plays better against the Blue Jays. Well, not this time.
This is not the same Yankees team that we’ve been watching in various incarnations from 2002 to 2005 -- a collection of overpriced superstars, some likeable and others not, who could pound out enough hits for a impressive number of wins, but never quite gelled into a unit capable of winning consistently against the best teams. Okay, so it’s still a collection of overpriced superstars. But they’re playing damn well together, seem like they're having a ton of fun doing it, and are complemented perfectly by young and underpaid talent like Robinson Cano, Melky Cabrera, Scott Proctor, and Chien-Ming Wong. (A chunk of the credit for this has to go to the newly empowered Brian Cashman, who's been kicking all kinds of ass this year). I sort of knew this had happened, but I didn’t fully recognize it until this weekend -- specifically, Sunday night. Unlike the Friday and Saturday games, when the Yankees feasted off weak pitching, Sunday night’s game was one that the Yankees had absolutely no right to win. Schilling was on, Mussina wasn’t and was then injured, the bullpen was exhausted, and perhaps most of all, no one really expected them to anyway: three in a row was plenty; no one was going to give them a hard time for losing to the combined A-games of Curt Schilling and Jonathan Pabelbon, in a game that seemed destined to be taken by the Sox. The last few innings of that game demonstrated the rare mixture of talent, determination, and luck that I haven’t really seen since the 2001 World Series.
We’re living in a post-2004 ALCS world, and I’m not about the call the division race over, or proclaim that the Yankees are going all the way, what with their uneven pitching rotation and all. But I do think it’s time to give this team credit for being the best group of Yankees in at least five years, and the most fun to watch as well. I'm adjusting my expectations and enthusiasm accordingly. It would certainly be arrogant to say they’ve got anything sewn up, but at the same time, it strikes me as ungrateful to ignore what this team has shown us so far this season. Whether or not they get very far into Octover, or make the playoffs at all, it’s been a memorable summer.
On a side note, we all learned another valuable lesson this weekend: for Christ’s sake, you should never, ever pitch to David Ortiz or Manny Ramirez, unless the bases are loaded, and maybe not then either. It took the Yankees a long time to figure this out, but they seem to have finally gotten it (though to be fair, this would have been harder in previous years, when Manny had more protection in the lineup). I actually have a recurring dream about David Ortiz, in which he is a giant, around three stories tall, who picks me up and gently but firmly carries me across the countryside towards some mysterious destination, and I panic, because I don’t want to go, but I can’t get his attention. Aside from the fact that I should probably seek therapy, this should tell you something about the impact of Ortiz in a lineup. Meanwhile, Manny reached base something like 17 out of 20 times this weekend, yet only scored three runs, and two of those were on his own home runs. Seriously: if I never see a Yankees pitcher throw strike to that man again, it will be too soon.
Jeff Karstens makes his major-league debut tonight in Seattle. Given how tired I am from simply watching the Red Sox series, I can only imagine how the players are feeling, so I wouldn't be surprised to see them let this one go. But, as we've seen quite often recently, I've been wrong before. Meanwhile, Boston plays the Angels; I only wish there was some way for both teams to lose.
This is not the same Yankees team that we’ve been watching in various incarnations from 2002 to 2005 -- a collection of overpriced superstars, some likeable and others not, who could pound out enough hits for a impressive number of wins, but never quite gelled into a unit capable of winning consistently against the best teams. Okay, so it’s still a collection of overpriced superstars. But they’re playing damn well together, seem like they're having a ton of fun doing it, and are complemented perfectly by young and underpaid talent like Robinson Cano, Melky Cabrera, Scott Proctor, and Chien-Ming Wong. (A chunk of the credit for this has to go to the newly empowered Brian Cashman, who's been kicking all kinds of ass this year). I sort of knew this had happened, but I didn’t fully recognize it until this weekend -- specifically, Sunday night. Unlike the Friday and Saturday games, when the Yankees feasted off weak pitching, Sunday night’s game was one that the Yankees had absolutely no right to win. Schilling was on, Mussina wasn’t and was then injured, the bullpen was exhausted, and perhaps most of all, no one really expected them to anyway: three in a row was plenty; no one was going to give them a hard time for losing to the combined A-games of Curt Schilling and Jonathan Pabelbon, in a game that seemed destined to be taken by the Sox. The last few innings of that game demonstrated the rare mixture of talent, determination, and luck that I haven’t really seen since the 2001 World Series.
We’re living in a post-2004 ALCS world, and I’m not about the call the division race over, or proclaim that the Yankees are going all the way, what with their uneven pitching rotation and all. But I do think it’s time to give this team credit for being the best group of Yankees in at least five years, and the most fun to watch as well. I'm adjusting my expectations and enthusiasm accordingly. It would certainly be arrogant to say they’ve got anything sewn up, but at the same time, it strikes me as ungrateful to ignore what this team has shown us so far this season. Whether or not they get very far into Octover, or make the playoffs at all, it’s been a memorable summer.
On a side note, we all learned another valuable lesson this weekend: for Christ’s sake, you should never, ever pitch to David Ortiz or Manny Ramirez, unless the bases are loaded, and maybe not then either. It took the Yankees a long time to figure this out, but they seem to have finally gotten it (though to be fair, this would have been harder in previous years, when Manny had more protection in the lineup). I actually have a recurring dream about David Ortiz, in which he is a giant, around three stories tall, who picks me up and gently but firmly carries me across the countryside towards some mysterious destination, and I panic, because I don’t want to go, but I can’t get his attention. Aside from the fact that I should probably seek therapy, this should tell you something about the impact of Ortiz in a lineup. Meanwhile, Manny reached base something like 17 out of 20 times this weekend, yet only scored three runs, and two of those were on his own home runs. Seriously: if I never see a Yankees pitcher throw strike to that man again, it will be too soon.
Jeff Karstens makes his major-league debut tonight in Seattle. Given how tired I am from simply watching the Red Sox series, I can only imagine how the players are feeling, so I wouldn't be surprised to see them let this one go. But, as we've seen quite often recently, I've been wrong before. Meanwhile, Boston plays the Angels; I only wish there was some way for both teams to lose.
August 21, 2006
Dispatches From My Lunch Break
Am I a bad fan for being totally stunned by the events of this series? I seem to have seriously underestimated this Yankees team. Joe Torre showed more emotion last night than he has in the last 10 seasons combined, so I guess he was impressed too.
I hate to pile on Terry Francona, but I honestly cannot imagine why he didn’t go to Papelbon to lead off the eighth. I was dumbfounded, and in fact, it came as a kind of strange relief when he finally did get him in there - all that futzing around with Timlin and Lopez was making me confused and uncomfortable. Once he came in, Papelbon lived up to the hype. And, while it physically pains me to do so, I have to give Curt Schilling credit for a truly gutty, tough game yesterday. He’s one of my absolute least-favorite baseball players, but you have to hand it to him, the pompous jerkoff delivers.
All in all, what a painful loss that must have been for the Sox. With the possible exception of an error, there's no worse way to lose a ballgame than a bloop single (I give you Game 7 of the 2001 World Series). Though to give Jeter his due, he's the master of bloop singles, and I don't doubt there was as much skill as luck involved. In any case, ouch. Mariano Rivera and Derek Jeter: honestly not overhyped.
As to today's game, I can't help it: I still like David Wells. I always enjoy it when people who have absolutely no right to be good athletes have so much success. Okay, so Wells isn't exactly his old self anymore and obviously, I would be happy to see him roughed up a little this afternoon. But that fat drunkard threw a perfect game for the Yanks, very possibly while hung over. And for that, he has earned our undying respect.
So after all this... after games featuring Mike Mussina, Randy Johnson, Chien-Ming Wang, Josh Beckett, and Curt Schilling... this is the pitcher’s duel? Cory Lidle and David Wells? Go figure, man. What a strange and wonderful series.
I hate to pile on Terry Francona, but I honestly cannot imagine why he didn’t go to Papelbon to lead off the eighth. I was dumbfounded, and in fact, it came as a kind of strange relief when he finally did get him in there - all that futzing around with Timlin and Lopez was making me confused and uncomfortable. Once he came in, Papelbon lived up to the hype. And, while it physically pains me to do so, I have to give Curt Schilling credit for a truly gutty, tough game yesterday. He’s one of my absolute least-favorite baseball players, but you have to hand it to him, the pompous jerkoff delivers.
All in all, what a painful loss that must have been for the Sox. With the possible exception of an error, there's no worse way to lose a ballgame than a bloop single (I give you Game 7 of the 2001 World Series). Though to give Jeter his due, he's the master of bloop singles, and I don't doubt there was as much skill as luck involved. In any case, ouch. Mariano Rivera and Derek Jeter: honestly not overhyped.
As to today's game, I can't help it: I still like David Wells. I always enjoy it when people who have absolutely no right to be good athletes have so much success. Okay, so Wells isn't exactly his old self anymore and obviously, I would be happy to see him roughed up a little this afternoon. But that fat drunkard threw a perfect game for the Yanks, very possibly while hung over. And for that, he has earned our undying respect.
So after all this... after games featuring Mike Mussina, Randy Johnson, Chien-Ming Wang, Josh Beckett, and Curt Schilling... this is the pitcher’s duel? Cory Lidle and David Wells? Go figure, man. What a strange and wonderful series.
August 20, 2006
Exactly As I Predicted!
Okay, not at all. I’m confused. Cheerful, but confused.
The last three games were basically a perfect storm, in which Red Sox pitching had a no-hold-barred meltdown just as the Yankees offense finally started firing on all cylinders, but it can't last -- the Red Sox aren’t this bad, and I'm afraid the Yankees aren’t this good. As awesome as their hitters have been the last two days, I can’t quite forget that they were absolutely crushed by the Baltimore Orioles’ worst pitchers earlier this week. Anyway, show me the offense that won’t do some serious damage when you give them thirteen walks in a single game. Yankee pitching hasn’t been much to brag about this series, either, and while 20 runs allowed in three games is obviously preferably to 39, these games have not been pretty.
Now, they played three long, exhausting games in about 30 hours, so you can’t really blame them, but when Posada hit his three-run triple to make the score 10-5, it seemed to me that you could palpably feel the Sox players giving up on the game. Again, after 4 hours of sleep and way too much Manny Delcarmen, most of us would do the same, but what remains to be seen is if that spirit will carry over into the rest of the series. I don’t expect that to happen – I hate Curt Schilling with a fiery passion, but this is just the kind of situation he lives for, so you know he’s going to show up. And if the Sox take the next two, they’re just 2.5 games back and still right in the race; even if they only win one, they’re a long way from done. (They're not done if they're swept either, but "a long way from it" would probably be pushing it).
There are some insane stats from the last three games. First of all, apparently, Johnny Damon goes to 11. I was already totally sold on the guy, but this was just sick: 9 for 18, including three doubles, two home runs, a triple, and 8 RBIs. I think you’ve made your point, Johnny. Meanwhile, Bobby Abreu, who seems to have taken roughly 20 seconds to fit in, has been on base 12 of 18 times. Robinson Cano has 10 RBIs (and that guy I can’t talk about anymore this season isn’t doing badly either).
Finally, the Yankees seem to have gotten over their case of Sidney Ponson (antibiotics will usually clear that right up).
Should be a good game tonight, with Mussina going against Schilling and everyone getting some sleep - including, let's all hope, the ESPN announcers. Time to do some pre-game exercises and get my muting finger loose and ready to go.
The last three games were basically a perfect storm, in which Red Sox pitching had a no-hold-barred meltdown just as the Yankees offense finally started firing on all cylinders, but it can't last -- the Red Sox aren’t this bad, and I'm afraid the Yankees aren’t this good. As awesome as their hitters have been the last two days, I can’t quite forget that they were absolutely crushed by the Baltimore Orioles’ worst pitchers earlier this week. Anyway, show me the offense that won’t do some serious damage when you give them thirteen walks in a single game. Yankee pitching hasn’t been much to brag about this series, either, and while 20 runs allowed in three games is obviously preferably to 39, these games have not been pretty.
Now, they played three long, exhausting games in about 30 hours, so you can’t really blame them, but when Posada hit his three-run triple to make the score 10-5, it seemed to me that you could palpably feel the Sox players giving up on the game. Again, after 4 hours of sleep and way too much Manny Delcarmen, most of us would do the same, but what remains to be seen is if that spirit will carry over into the rest of the series. I don’t expect that to happen – I hate Curt Schilling with a fiery passion, but this is just the kind of situation he lives for, so you know he’s going to show up. And if the Sox take the next two, they’re just 2.5 games back and still right in the race; even if they only win one, they’re a long way from done. (They're not done if they're swept either, but "a long way from it" would probably be pushing it).
There are some insane stats from the last three games. First of all, apparently, Johnny Damon goes to 11. I was already totally sold on the guy, but this was just sick: 9 for 18, including three doubles, two home runs, a triple, and 8 RBIs. I think you’ve made your point, Johnny. Meanwhile, Bobby Abreu, who seems to have taken roughly 20 seconds to fit in, has been on base 12 of 18 times. Robinson Cano has 10 RBIs (and that guy I can’t talk about anymore this season isn’t doing badly either).
Finally, the Yankees seem to have gotten over their case of Sidney Ponson (antibiotics will usually clear that right up).
Should be a good game tonight, with Mussina going against Schilling and everyone getting some sleep - including, let's all hope, the ESPN announcers. Time to do some pre-game exercises and get my muting finger loose and ready to go.
August 18, 2006
Tell Your God To Ready For Blood
During the recent insane heat wave, city officials urged people to rest, avoid unnecessary exertion, drink water, and seek medical attention if they had trouble breathing, chest pains, or dizziness and confusion. I think the same warnings should also be applied to Yankees and Red Sox fans this weekend, particularly those with a history of cardiac or respiratory problems. In addition, I urge younger, healthy fans to check in periodically on their older and more infirm neighbors and acquaintances. At times like this we all have to help each other.
The only part of the heat wave advice that doesn't apply is here is that people should avoid alcoholic beverages, which can be dehydrating. On the contrary, in this situation a stiff drink is definitely called for. Starting at lunch today. The best thing Yankees fans can do for themselves now is dull the pain, make everything a blur, and wake up somewhere unexpected Tuesday morning, when it's all over.
When our ancient ancestors climbed out of the primordial ooze and checked the baseball schedule, it was already obvious that this was going to be a huge series. Having had the dubious pleasure of watching yesterday's terrifically ugly loss to the Orioles, about which the less said the better, I can't say I have a lot of confidence at the moment; but once my eyes stopped bleeding I reminded myself that every team has some rough patches and the occasional horrific game, and momentum can turn in one inning. Actually, it's hard to say whether Red Sox or Yankees fans are more down on their team these days -- but hey, even when the Royals play the Pirates, somebody has to win.
I'll be listening to the first game at work, via the radio, but I'll miss at least the first part of tonight's game because, strangely enough, I have to go see Snakes on a Plane for work. But for those of you who will be watching, drink lots of water, wear light loose-fitting clothing, and consult your doctor if you experience feelings of weakness, confusion, or nausea. Or just turn off the TV until Sidney Ponson is out of the game.
The only part of the heat wave advice that doesn't apply is here is that people should avoid alcoholic beverages, which can be dehydrating. On the contrary, in this situation a stiff drink is definitely called for. Starting at lunch today. The best thing Yankees fans can do for themselves now is dull the pain, make everything a blur, and wake up somewhere unexpected Tuesday morning, when it's all over.
When our ancient ancestors climbed out of the primordial ooze and checked the baseball schedule, it was already obvious that this was going to be a huge series. Having had the dubious pleasure of watching yesterday's terrifically ugly loss to the Orioles, about which the less said the better, I can't say I have a lot of confidence at the moment; but once my eyes stopped bleeding I reminded myself that every team has some rough patches and the occasional horrific game, and momentum can turn in one inning. Actually, it's hard to say whether Red Sox or Yankees fans are more down on their team these days -- but hey, even when the Royals play the Pirates, somebody has to win.
I'll be listening to the first game at work, via the radio, but I'll miss at least the first part of tonight's game because, strangely enough, I have to go see Snakes on a Plane for work. But for those of you who will be watching, drink lots of water, wear light loose-fitting clothing, and consult your doctor if you experience feelings of weakness, confusion, or nausea. Or just turn off the TV until Sidney Ponson is out of the game.
August 17, 2006
Hey, We Can't All Be Sal Fasano
I was really hoping that if I ignored Jason Giambi's mustache it would go away, but I see now that's not the case. Giambi claims that this is a tribute to the glory days of Don Mattingly, but, Jason? Donnie Baseball never starred in "Tell Them Johnny Wadd Is Here". Every time I see that thing onscreen I flinch and reach for the nearest heavy object, like I do when I see a roach in a my apartment.
What Yankee would you most like to see grow a serious mustache? I vote for Mariano Rivera; that would be either incredibly cool or side-splittingly funny, and I want to find out which.
It's times like this I wish I owned Photoshop.
In less important news... the Yankees broke ground on their new stadium yesterday, before losing to the Orioles 3-2, and like most people I'm conflicted (about the new stadium, not the loss to the Orioles, which my feelings are quite clear on). As much as the current Stadium holds fond memories for me, the building itself is, if we're being honest, not exactly aesthetically stunning. In Ladies and Gentlemen, The Bronx is Burning, which I can't seem to find at the moment to quote, Jonathan Mahler describes the Stadium after its 1970s renovation as a gray concrete fortress isolated in the South Bronx, and unfortunately I think that's not far off, though of course the field itself is spectacular. I'm dreading the increased luxury boxes and inevitably more expensive tickets, and I'm going to miss being able to say that Babe Ruth played on this exact field and Billy Martin tried to kill Reggie Jackson in that precise dugout. But despite all that, I have to admit the world will be a slightly prettier place.
Finally, I do not want to hear the words "Jeter" and "slump" together in a sentence until the guy's average is down below at least .330. For pete's sake, people.
It's times like this I wish I owned Photoshop.
In less important news... the Yankees broke ground on their new stadium yesterday, before losing to the Orioles 3-2, and like most people I'm conflicted (about the new stadium, not the loss to the Orioles, which my feelings are quite clear on). As much as the current Stadium holds fond memories for me, the building itself is, if we're being honest, not exactly aesthetically stunning. In Ladies and Gentlemen, The Bronx is Burning, which I can't seem to find at the moment to quote, Jonathan Mahler describes the Stadium after its 1970s renovation as a gray concrete fortress isolated in the South Bronx, and unfortunately I think that's not far off, though of course the field itself is spectacular. I'm dreading the increased luxury boxes and inevitably more expensive tickets, and I'm going to miss being able to say that Babe Ruth played on this exact field and Billy Martin tried to kill Reggie Jackson in that precise dugout. But despite all that, I have to admit the world will be a slightly prettier place.
Finally, I do not want to hear the words "Jeter" and "slump" together in a sentence until the guy's average is down below at least .330. For pete's sake, people.
August 15, 2006
If You're Not Part of the Solution You're Part of the Problem
Last night’s post got me to thinking. Since everything that can possibly be said about Alex Rodriguez this year has by now been said, and given the inordinate number of trees (and, er... bytes?) that have given their lives for excruciatingly in-depth analyses of the man, I decided not to write another word about A-Rod this season--barring truly remarkable events. So I'm making it official: not another word about lucky #13, UNLESS:
- He single-handedly wins or loses a playoff series.
- He starts a real quality brawl.
- He is arrested for a felony. We're talking murder, assault, possession with intent to distribute... a DUI isn't going to cut it, nor will tax fraud, and obviously, don't bother me with any misdemeanors.
- He--not his wife--gives birth to a child. I honestly don’t mean this as a dig on him being effeminate or anything, I just think it would be newsworthy.
- He hits a home run off of Curt Schilling. Because it never gets old.
- He spontaneously combusts on the field. Literal flames only; metaphorically doesn’t count.
- He has an affair, but only if it’s with someone really unexpected. I don’t mean a model or actress or groupie, I mean, say, Hilary Clinton. Larry Bowa. Arundhati Roy. Derek Jeter’s mom. My grandpa Murray. Someone like that.
Does that about cover it? Let me know if I've forgotten something. Otherwise, so long until October, A-Rod, and good luck.
August 13, 2006
The Curse of the Weavers
I'm starting to suspect something fishy is going on with the Weaver boys. First Jeff Weaver sabotaged the Yankees from within, pitching like absolute crap for them for several years*, until to make matters worse, he was traded for the even crappier--yet older and more injury-prone!--Kevin Brown. You wouldn't think it was possible to get rid of Jeff Weaver and still come out on the losing end of a trade, but you would be wrong**. And now his brother Jared, who by the way basically mocks his older brother with every sparkling start, is killing the Yanks by pitching terrifically for the Angels. Please just tell me there isn't a third sibling. What's the deal here? Are the Weavers Red Sox fans? Was their father somehow terribly wronged by Steinbrenner decades ago? I mean, if Tony Womack and David Ortiz were brothers, you'd start to think something might be up, wouldn't you?
Tonight, I got to watch a baseball game in its entirety for almost a week, and it was a satisfying one. Randy Johnson seems to have recently sacrificed a goat or something in exchange for prolonged youth again this year, so that's a plus; Jorge Posada snapped out of his slump; and Derek Jeter got some early MVP chants going for him. (I'm basically so sick of talking, thinking, and hearing about A-Rod that I don't think I'll write anything more about him unless he does something truly spectacular, like kill Curt Schilling with his bare hands in the middle of a game, or spontaneously combust on the field, or personally discover an AIDS vaccine.) One thing I can say for sure: this Yankees team is either very good or entirely mediocre. Definitely one of those two things.
In other, off-topic news: in today's New York Times, the big headline is "In Steroid Era, Will Golf's Integrity Stand Test?" Now, it would not actually be possible for me to care less about golf, but I am pretty amused by the idea of pudgy, aging, plaid-pants-clad millionaires shooting anabolic steroids into each other's asses in the country club men's room. I know that's probably not the kind of thing the headline is referring to... but damned if I'm actually going to read the article to find out.
*2003 ERA: 5.99.
**2005 ERA in '05: 6.5.
Tonight, I got to watch a baseball game in its entirety for almost a week, and it was a satisfying one. Randy Johnson seems to have recently sacrificed a goat or something in exchange for prolonged youth again this year, so that's a plus; Jorge Posada snapped out of his slump; and Derek Jeter got some early MVP chants going for him. (I'm basically so sick of talking, thinking, and hearing about A-Rod that I don't think I'll write anything more about him unless he does something truly spectacular, like kill Curt Schilling with his bare hands in the middle of a game, or spontaneously combust on the field, or personally discover an AIDS vaccine.) One thing I can say for sure: this Yankees team is either very good or entirely mediocre. Definitely one of those two things.
In other, off-topic news: in today's New York Times, the big headline is "In Steroid Era, Will Golf's Integrity Stand Test?" Now, it would not actually be possible for me to care less about golf, but I am pretty amused by the idea of pudgy, aging, plaid-pants-clad millionaires shooting anabolic steroids into each other's asses in the country club men's room. I know that's probably not the kind of thing the headline is referring to... but damned if I'm actually going to read the article to find out.
*2003 ERA: 5.99.
**2005 ERA in '05: 6.5.
August 12, 2006
Did I Mention That I Hate the Angels?
I do. Call them what you will – The California and Los Angeles Metropolitan Area Angels of Orange Country or whatever, this is my least favorite Major League team, and not just because they kicked the Yankees’ ass at the Stadium last night, 7-4. Nor because they ran the Yankees out of the postseason twice in the last four years.
I have no very strong feelings about the Angels’ original owner, Gene Autry - seems to have been a nice enough fellow, don’t care for his movies - but he sold the team to Disney in the mid-1990s. This is a corporation that makes George Steinbrenner look like Mother Theresa. And for all the talk about financial inequality in baseball and the Yankees’ insane spending – a legitimate issue, I freely admit – if the execs at Disney cared even half as much about winning as our lovable psychopath Boss, the Angels’ salary could easily have been, oh, say $750 million.
Disney sold the team in 2003 to Arte Moreno, a self-made billionaire Vietnam vet and the first Hispanic owner in the majors. I like some of what I’ve read about him so far (e.g. lowering ticket prices and declining to sell the stadium’s sponsorship rights), but his team still has The Mouse’s prints all over it. I give you, for example, the fake-rock fountains in the outfield. Look, I grew up in New Jersey, and I know tacky when I see it. This isn’t the good, fun kind of tacky either; this is generic, soulless, lazy tacky. (If you want a baseball example of fun tacky, I give you “the Baggie,” the apparent garbage bags lining the outfield wall of the Twins’ Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome. Is this an attractive look? No. Is it classy? Probably not. But it has character.)
That I hate the rally monkey with a fiery passion should probably go without saying; I’m not even going to dignify that cutesy little cocksucking fleabag with a response. Most of all, though, I hate the Thunder Stix. Seriously – if you need ugly inflated plastic devices to artifically create enough noise to cheer for your team, you are not a baseball fan. Go ride Big Thunder Mountain Railroad: you'll love it. Take the monkey. Everybody wins.
But, really, you might ask - more than the Red Sox? Well, you know how in roughly 70% of all movies ever made, the hero and the villain have a big confrontation, and realize that they actually have a lot in common? It’s like that. “We are not so different, you and I!” say the Sox, as they dangle the Yankees over a tank of man-eating sharks. Boston and New York are two proud old baseball cities that place a lot of value, perhaps too much, on tradition; spend lots of money; boast rabid, unhealthily dedicated fans with sometimes delusional expectations; and host shrieking media outlets that fan random little sparks of stories into raging wildfires at every opportunity. There’s a grudging mutual respect there, mixed in with the blind hatred, as there is with all the best sports rivalries (and supervillians). I guess what I’m saying is that under other circumstances… if things had been different… we might even have been friends.
Say what you want about Fenway, but I’m confident you won’t see many Thunder Stix there any time soon.
I have no very strong feelings about the Angels’ original owner, Gene Autry - seems to have been a nice enough fellow, don’t care for his movies - but he sold the team to Disney in the mid-1990s. This is a corporation that makes George Steinbrenner look like Mother Theresa. And for all the talk about financial inequality in baseball and the Yankees’ insane spending – a legitimate issue, I freely admit – if the execs at Disney cared even half as much about winning as our lovable psychopath Boss, the Angels’ salary could easily have been, oh, say $750 million.
Disney sold the team in 2003 to Arte Moreno, a self-made billionaire Vietnam vet and the first Hispanic owner in the majors. I like some of what I’ve read about him so far (e.g. lowering ticket prices and declining to sell the stadium’s sponsorship rights), but his team still has The Mouse’s prints all over it. I give you, for example, the fake-rock fountains in the outfield. Look, I grew up in New Jersey, and I know tacky when I see it. This isn’t the good, fun kind of tacky either; this is generic, soulless, lazy tacky. (If you want a baseball example of fun tacky, I give you “the Baggie,” the apparent garbage bags lining the outfield wall of the Twins’ Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome. Is this an attractive look? No. Is it classy? Probably not. But it has character.)
That I hate the rally monkey with a fiery passion should probably go without saying; I’m not even going to dignify that cutesy little cocksucking fleabag with a response. Most of all, though, I hate the Thunder Stix. Seriously – if you need ugly inflated plastic devices to artifically create enough noise to cheer for your team, you are not a baseball fan. Go ride Big Thunder Mountain Railroad: you'll love it. Take the monkey. Everybody wins.
But, really, you might ask - more than the Red Sox? Well, you know how in roughly 70% of all movies ever made, the hero and the villain have a big confrontation, and realize that they actually have a lot in common? It’s like that. “We are not so different, you and I!” say the Sox, as they dangle the Yankees over a tank of man-eating sharks. Boston and New York are two proud old baseball cities that place a lot of value, perhaps too much, on tradition; spend lots of money; boast rabid, unhealthily dedicated fans with sometimes delusional expectations; and host shrieking media outlets that fan random little sparks of stories into raging wildfires at every opportunity. There’s a grudging mutual respect there, mixed in with the blind hatred, as there is with all the best sports rivalries (and supervillians). I guess what I’m saying is that under other circumstances… if things had been different… we might even have been friends.
Say what you want about Fenway, but I’m confident you won’t see many Thunder Stix there any time soon.
August 10, 2006
I Bet Tadahito Iguchi Believes in Dinosaurs
Two nights ago, I watched the the Yanks' classic and then suddenly terrifying game from a bar on 14th street that, interestingly, combined a medieval motif with a beer pong table (a better idea than you think... kind of). I missed last night's game altogether and tonight's is looking unlikely too; as my father would (and probably will) say, where are my priorities? Well, this is what happens when you have close friends in town who selfishly think that, just because you only get to see them twice a year, you're supposed to miss late-season baseball games just to hang out with them. The nerve.
Watching Wednesday's game, it struck me just how profoundly unlikeable Randy Johnson really is - to the extent that, though I obviously wanted him to hold the lead, I really didn't care whether his no-hitter was broken up or not. By contrast, we have David Wells' perfect game and, even moreso, David Cone's, which I still find stressful to watch even now, though the outcome of each at bat isn't exactly in question. I was also reminded of Mike Mussina's heartbreaking gem in 2001, against the Red Sox, in which he took a perfect game into the 9th inning with two outs and two strikes before Carl "the Bible never says anything about dinosaurs" Everett, of all fucking people, got a clean hit. I'm still bitter, and honestly, if I were Mussina I probably would have had Everett killed. The point is that while massively talented and therefore interesting to watch, the Big Unit truly seems to be an enormous prick (pun unavoidable), and I'll be glad when he's off the team. I of course reserve the right to backtrack on this later if he starts pitching better.
Meanwhile, tempting though it may be, I don't want to make too much of the Red Sox's sweep at the hands of the always-intimidating Kansas City Royals; the same thing happened to the Yanks last summer, after all. The Red Sox, like last year's Yankee team, are flawed, but they're a lot better than they've been playing the last few weeks, and I imagine it's only a matter of time before they snap out of it.
Now, when I get home tonight and turn on Yankees encore, I want to see that insipid rally monky being torn limb from limb.
Watching Wednesday's game, it struck me just how profoundly unlikeable Randy Johnson really is - to the extent that, though I obviously wanted him to hold the lead, I really didn't care whether his no-hitter was broken up or not. By contrast, we have David Wells' perfect game and, even moreso, David Cone's, which I still find stressful to watch even now, though the outcome of each at bat isn't exactly in question. I was also reminded of Mike Mussina's heartbreaking gem in 2001, against the Red Sox, in which he took a perfect game into the 9th inning with two outs and two strikes before Carl "the Bible never says anything about dinosaurs" Everett, of all fucking people, got a clean hit. I'm still bitter, and honestly, if I were Mussina I probably would have had Everett killed. The point is that while massively talented and therefore interesting to watch, the Big Unit truly seems to be an enormous prick (pun unavoidable), and I'll be glad when he's off the team. I of course reserve the right to backtrack on this later if he starts pitching better.
Meanwhile, tempting though it may be, I don't want to make too much of the Red Sox's sweep at the hands of the always-intimidating Kansas City Royals; the same thing happened to the Yanks last summer, after all. The Red Sox, like last year's Yankee team, are flawed, but they're a lot better than they've been playing the last few weeks, and I imagine it's only a matter of time before they snap out of it.
Now, when I get home tonight and turn on Yankees encore, I want to see that insipid rally monky being torn limb from limb.
August 07, 2006
Michael Kay: Genius
I’m not a superstitious person in most areas of my life, opening umbrellas indoors with impunity and walking under ladders at every opportunity – but I do have that streak in me when it comes to sports. I’m always afraid I’ll jinx a good thing, which is why, if the Yankees are ahead by 12 runs in the 9th inning, playing the Kansas City Royals, with 2 out and two strikes and Mariano Rivera on the mound, I will still generally avoid saying anything stronger than, “well, it certainly looks as if the Yankees have a good chance of winning this game.”
I’m not so COMPLETELY insane, however, as to actually believe any of this matters, and I certainly would never get mad when someone else says something, um, jinxish (new word!). So I understand why Yankees’ announcer Michael Kay would be frustrated when idiots started calling up his radio show, bitching and yelling because he “jinxed” Chien-Ming Wang during a potential perfect game. But, that said… justifying his breach of “baseball etiquette” by blaming “etiquette” for 1) slavery and 2) the Holocaust? Insensitive, yeah, sure, but mostly, just staggeringly stupid. I’m surprised the New York media hasn’t been all over him on this (aren’t they run by the Jews?); I only saw it mentioned at Fire Joe Morgan, where you can listen to the clip if, like me, you can't quite believe Kay could actually be that dumb. I guess in this case it’s actually a blessing that no one much listens to his show. Also: thank Christ Bobby Murcer doesn’t have a call-in talk show. “We’ll be back to discuss why leadoff walks are worse than Al Qaeda, right after these messages! Don't go away.”
Anyway. The Yanks have a tough stretch coming up, playing the White Sox and the Angels (who I’ve come to loathe more than any other team in either league – more on that later in the week), followed by a slight break at Camden Yards before Baseball Armageddon: five games in four days at Fenway Park. The Sox are playing Kansas City and Baltimore next, so I’d expect them to make up some ground before the rain of locusts begins. Note to self: cancel all appointments that week.
And speaking of the Red Sox, they now have someone named Corky playing for them. After, off the top of my head, Willy Mo, Coco, and Kason -- say what you want about that team but they’ve certainly had some great names on the roster this year.
I’m not so COMPLETELY insane, however, as to actually believe any of this matters, and I certainly would never get mad when someone else says something, um, jinxish (new word!). So I understand why Yankees’ announcer Michael Kay would be frustrated when idiots started calling up his radio show, bitching and yelling because he “jinxed” Chien-Ming Wang during a potential perfect game. But, that said… justifying his breach of “baseball etiquette” by blaming “etiquette” for 1) slavery and 2) the Holocaust? Insensitive, yeah, sure, but mostly, just staggeringly stupid. I’m surprised the New York media hasn’t been all over him on this (aren’t they run by the Jews?); I only saw it mentioned at Fire Joe Morgan, where you can listen to the clip if, like me, you can't quite believe Kay could actually be that dumb. I guess in this case it’s actually a blessing that no one much listens to his show. Also: thank Christ Bobby Murcer doesn’t have a call-in talk show. “We’ll be back to discuss why leadoff walks are worse than Al Qaeda, right after these messages! Don't go away.”
Anyway. The Yanks have a tough stretch coming up, playing the White Sox and the Angels (who I’ve come to loathe more than any other team in either league – more on that later in the week), followed by a slight break at Camden Yards before Baseball Armageddon: five games in four days at Fenway Park. The Sox are playing Kansas City and Baltimore next, so I’d expect them to make up some ground before the rain of locusts begins. Note to self: cancel all appointments that week.
And speaking of the Red Sox, they now have someone named Corky playing for them. After, off the top of my head, Willy Mo, Coco, and Kason -- say what you want about that team but they’ve certainly had some great names on the roster this year.
August 04, 2006
Alas, Poor Bubba! I Knew Him, Melky...
... a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fielding skills. Yes, Bubba Crosby was designated for assignment today to make room for a 12th pitcher, Jose Veras. I feel bad for the guy. God knows he couldn’t hit, but he made some sweet plays, seemed like a nice person, and provided great tabloid headline fodder... “Hubba Bubba” and “Bubba-licious” come to mind. I would have sent down Andy Phillips or Nick Green first -- every team should have one scrappy little fast guy who can’t hit (two words: Dave Roberts*).
Corey Lidle had a terrific Yankees debut yesterday. I was getting pretty excited about that, before a helpful Mets fan at work pointed out that Sir Sidney Ponson’s debut a few weeks ago was pretty excellent too, as was Al Leiter’s last year. Okay, okay: small sample size.
Meanwhile, Derek Jeter is hitting .352. If he keeps this up, I hope he releases a new cologne every year. Also, I’m SO buying that for someone as a joke this Christmas.
*Okay, so I just looked it up and Roberts isn't really that bad a hitter. But I won't remember him for his batting, that's for sure.
Corey Lidle had a terrific Yankees debut yesterday. I was getting pretty excited about that, before a helpful Mets fan at work pointed out that Sir Sidney Ponson’s debut a few weeks ago was pretty excellent too, as was Al Leiter’s last year. Okay, okay: small sample size.
Meanwhile, Derek Jeter is hitting .352. If he keeps this up, I hope he releases a new cologne every year. Also, I’m SO buying that for someone as a joke this Christmas.
*Okay, so I just looked it up and Roberts isn't really that bad a hitter. But I won't remember him for his batting, that's for sure.
August 02, 2006
So, A-Rod Is Kind Of An Underdog Now... Right?
First of all: in February, when I start bitching about how cold I am when it’s 7 degrees outside? Remind me about today, and tell me to shut the hell up.
You’ve got to be impressed by Brian Cashman, who got two decent players (Lidle, Wilson) and one excellent one (Abreu) for, basically, a song. Not a good song, either; maybe a Jessica Simpson single. As Cliff Corcoran over at Bronx Banter put it: If Brian Cashman had a number I’d buy his jersey. Still, as good as these trades seem, I can’t help feeling it’s all a little bittersweet: I’ve gotten kind of attached to the scrappy, half-AAA lineups the Yankees have been running out there the last few months. While I would never, EVER say while sober that Aaron Guiel, Bubba Crosby, Andy Phillips, Nick Green, Miguel Cairo or even Melky should play over Abreu or, if or when they return, Cano, Sheffield, or Matsui, there’s something very satisfying about winning with a lineup that, in theory, shouldn’t have a prayer. Even Yankees fans like to root for the underdog (hence the otherwise inexplicable popularity of Bubba Crosby), but we rarely have the chance.
That said, there’s nothing at all satisfying about missing out on the playoffs by a couple of games that might have been won with a few better at-bats. And so things are looking up. The Yankees are in a tie for first place in the AL East (and would be ahead by a game or two if the Indians, who’ve been playing the Red Sox, had something in their bullpen that remotely resembled a professional pitcher). Chien-Ming Wang looked absolutely amazing tonight, again. Posada’s been saying all season that Wang has the best stuff of anyone on the Yankees staff, and after the last few weeks, I’m ready to believe it. Alex Rodriguez is back. Bobby Abreu is, so far, as patient as advertised. Craig Wilson--not a handsome man, but versatile!—had two hits.
Yeah…. You know what? I guess it really isn’t all that bittersweet.
You’ve got to be impressed by Brian Cashman, who got two decent players (Lidle, Wilson) and one excellent one (Abreu) for, basically, a song. Not a good song, either; maybe a Jessica Simpson single. As Cliff Corcoran over at Bronx Banter put it: If Brian Cashman had a number I’d buy his jersey. Still, as good as these trades seem, I can’t help feeling it’s all a little bittersweet: I’ve gotten kind of attached to the scrappy, half-AAA lineups the Yankees have been running out there the last few months. While I would never, EVER say while sober that Aaron Guiel, Bubba Crosby, Andy Phillips, Nick Green, Miguel Cairo or even Melky should play over Abreu or, if or when they return, Cano, Sheffield, or Matsui, there’s something very satisfying about winning with a lineup that, in theory, shouldn’t have a prayer. Even Yankees fans like to root for the underdog (hence the otherwise inexplicable popularity of Bubba Crosby), but we rarely have the chance.
That said, there’s nothing at all satisfying about missing out on the playoffs by a couple of games that might have been won with a few better at-bats. And so things are looking up. The Yankees are in a tie for first place in the AL East (and would be ahead by a game or two if the Indians, who’ve been playing the Red Sox, had something in their bullpen that remotely resembled a professional pitcher). Chien-Ming Wang looked absolutely amazing tonight, again. Posada’s been saying all season that Wang has the best stuff of anyone on the Yankees staff, and after the last few weeks, I’m ready to believe it. Alex Rodriguez is back. Bobby Abreu is, so far, as patient as advertised. Craig Wilson--not a handsome man, but versatile!—had two hits.
Yeah…. You know what? I guess it really isn’t all that bittersweet.
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