Monthly Archives: April 2008

The Yankees did not hit much on Sunday rounding off a lackluster first week for the offense. However, Joe Girardi was back in the dugout to watch Chien Ming Wang, Joba Chamberlain and Mariano Rivera combine to shut the Rays down and out, 2-0. Hideki Matsui’s two-run homer was the only scoring in the game (batting behind Alex Rodriguez, Godzilla had three hits in all). James Shields pitched well for Tampa, featuring a diving change up that struck Bobby Abreu out three times. Wang was in fine form as well–his pitches were moving, he had good control, and his slider was particularly effective. It wasn’t a great game–a sloppy fielding play by Robinson Cano (who later redeemed himself with a nifty double play), a botched suicide squeeze by the Rays–but it was played in just under three hours, good thing for the fans who braved the chilly and windy conditions. The Yanks are now 3-3 on the season, and look to salvage a split of this four-game series tomorrow.

I can never remember a time in my childhood when my family didn’t get the New York Times on Sunday morning. One time, when I was about nine and my dad was still living with us he sent me on my bike to get the paper. I had a heavy-framed, second-hand dirt bike that Kevin O’Conner was kind enough to dump on me for $25. I peddled over a mile to the local grocery store and then struggled to balance the bulky paper on the handle bars of the bike as I wobbled back home. I was so pleased with myself when I made it back that I brought the paper straight into my parents’ bedroom. My father was sleeping on his back. I carefully placed the paper on his swollen belly like Indiana Jones replacing a gold headstone in Raiders of the Lost Ark. I thought it would be the best way he could ever get the paper–just wake up and have it there waiting for him. He jolted up and yelled at me to get the damn paper off of him.

I always had to wait until dad was finished with a section–the sports section, in most cases–before I had a chance to read it. Or if I read a section before him, I had to make sure that I returned it to the state it was in when I found it. During those final years when my father lived with us not only did I read the stat leaders on Sunday (the one that was available just once a week) but I cut out the full-page movie ads in the Arts and Leisure section. I still remember the print ads for Altered States, The Competition, Fame, The Shinning, Times Square, Popeye, All Night Long, So Fine. I learned how to become sharp at finding the “Nina’s” in Hirsfield’s masterful drawings.

The oldest name I know in print is Murray Chass. The Yankees, Times and Chass. I never knew exactly how to pronounce his name but I always remember seeing it. My dad pronounced it CHHHUH’ass, with a thick Semetic, CHHUH. I always said Chase in my head even though I knew it was wrong.

I have a great deal of admiration for all that Chass has accomplished during the course of his career. He’s one of the outstanding newspapermen of the free agency era, specializing in covering the business side of the sport. I haven’t enjoyed his column for several years now but I still have a certain amount of affection for him because he’s the baseball writer I associate with the Times of my childhood. Hey, Ray Negron told me that Chass was the best ball playing sportswriter of his day. Said that Chass really ripped it up in the annual sportswriter’s game back in the seventies. I know that Chass has become a favorite whipping boy on-line these days, and why not? he’s an easy target who is forever adding fuel to the fire. But I sometimes cringe when I see the abuse he takes. It’s his own fault but it doesn’t mean it’s fun to watch.

Chass doesn’t like blogs, though he doesn’t seem to know much about them. He has simply dismissed the genre outright. That’s fine, but I think he sounds foolish. Jon Weisman wrote a terrific post about Chass, the mainstream press and the blogosphere this past week:

My roots are in sports journalism. I had my first story published in the Los Angeles Times in 1986, covered my first major league baseball game in 1987 and was full-time in the profession by the end of 1989, nearly 13 years before I began blogging. I value how hard it is to be a sportswriter, and I emphasized to Steiner today how that many bloggers rely upon the work of mainstream sportswriters to launch their posts. For that matter, I understand job insecurity. I was the hot new prodigy on staff in ’89 – by ’92, there was a hotter, newer prodigy, and I was on my way to being marginalized at the ripe old age of 24.

But I expect reciprocity. If I’ve done a good job as an outsider looking in, I expect respect, not dismissal. First, some of the analysis done by bloggers is flat-out better than anything you’ll see from a major paper – and it’s done without the support system of a major paper, often without any renumeration whatsoever. In some ways, it’s harder work.

Second, while there’s value in interacting with the players and management of a baseball team, I can testify that there’s often value in not interacting with them. It can give you a level of objectivity that is often missing from mainstream reporting. And at a minimum, many kinds of analysis don’t require a locker-room presence, yet can be of tremendous value when done right.

…If there’s one thing I could live without ever hearing again, it’s that stereotype of bloggers working in their underwear from their parents’ basements. I mean, I’ve had it. I’m not going to sit here and let mainstream baseball writers, who spend, God love ’em, 2,000 hours a year inside a ballpark, tell me that I or my blogger colleagues need to get a life. We have lives, thank you very much. Many of us have day jobs – many of us need day jobs – and many of us spend our weekends with our families and friends rather than with A-Rod and Jeter, and we see a world beyond the baseball field. Not saying that the mainstreamers don’t – just that we do. Our passion for baseball drives us to write about the game, but hardly monopolizes our existence. If anything, we might have the perspective that insiders lack.

But don’t let me dictate to you who’s good and who isn’t. Judge for yourself. Just judge after you’ve read an individual’s work, not before.

It is overcast and flat-out cold today in New York. What to cook? A stew, a soup, shepherd’s pie, a lasagna, a risotto? Mmmm. While I ponder what to make, let me repeat that I think the Yankees will score a bunch of runs this afternoon. Chien-Ming Wang, the Yankees’ stopper, is on the hill.

Let’s Go Yan-Kees.

They said it was gunna rain but it never did. Instead the sun was out and it was a lovely, crisp spring day. Still a little chilly but the buds are on the trees. Some trees are already in bloom. So Emily and I had lunch at a cute Belgian spot in Manhattan and then walked over to one of her favorite places–the Container Store. Once we got there, I kept telling her, “You can’t stop us, you can only hope to contain us.” Then, I’d crack up. She rolled her eyes. Em calls me her Jack Tripper (Three’s Company is one of those shows that was one of her friends, that kept her great company when she was a kid). Then I waited for her to set me up with a straight line so that I could say, “That’s what she said,” my other favorite cornball expression of the moment. That’s a line I can’t say enough. It always cracks me up. Em puts up with me and groans more often then she laughs.

Emily isn’t exactly straight-laced but she is formal and dignified in public places. She is mortified if I talk too loudly, nevermind if I pull the old’ knock-the-merchandise-off-the-shelf-for-laffs bit. Her eyes start to bulge and she speaks in short bursts trying to whisper, “Alex, No, what are you doing, don’t–Hey, I’m serious.” Today, I went to a shelf stacked with tiny little white ring boxes and started knocking them over. I picked them up and when I went to put them back I knocked more over on purpose. I had her going for a couple of rounds of that.

I like tooling around town with my wife, we have a lot of laughs. She’s a country girl at heart who doesn’t have the nature for city-living. The crowds, the traffic, the fast pace. It’s not her. But when we are out together she can relax because I make her feel safe. I know where we are going and I am always watching out over her. I make sure to walk on her outside, so that I’m closest to the street. I keep an eye out on the subway car as she closes her eyes and rests her head on my shoulder. It makes me feel good to have her back and create that sense of security for her. Nice to feel like the man and to know your woman wants you to be the man.

After the Container Store, we were standing in the sun on 6th Avenue waiting for the light to turn. A Good Humor Truck was parked a few feet away, a hot dog stand next to it on the curb. A gray-haired woman wearing a black overcoat held a chocolate dipped cone in her hand. I made a yummy sound as we waited for the light. She walked towards us; the light changed, and we crossed the street with her. “Boy, do you look happy,” I said. She smiled, a look of simple but deep happiness on her face. “Well, it’s my first of the year.”

You’ve got to love the seasons. Speaking of which, the flu season is still hanging over the Yanks who lost again to the Rays today, this time, 6-3. Joe Girardi missed another game, Andy Pettitte wasn’t great (“I just didn’t have anything today, man”), Jason Giambi hurt himself, and oh yeah, the offense came up short again. A waste of a perfectly beautiful day. I’m not sorry we missed it. Anthony McCaron and Pete Abraham kept entertaining tabs on the game.

Tomorrow, the bats will bring the rukus.

One of the most exciting events of the spring has been the recent launching of the SI Vault. Talk about an embarassment of riches. Dag. To my dismay, the site does not offer anything close to a complete author index, making finding stuff a frustrating experience at best. I can only hope that this is a temporary problem, because it would be a real shame for something as rich and varied as the SI archives to be needlessly difficult to navigate.

Still, here are a couple of gems for you as we wait for today’s game. No telling if the rain will mess with things this afternoon. It’s warm and foggy this morning and the sun is even shinning here and there in the Bronx. I’m gunna throw up this game thread now cause I won’t be around for the start of the game. If they get it in, Andy Pettitte will make his first start of the year. If there is a delay, grab another bowl of soup, and consider the following bag o treats from the SI vault.

Come Down Selector:

A Diamond in the Ashes: Robert Lipsyte’s highly critical take on the rennovated Yankee Stadium (April, 1976).

This Old House: William Nack’s essay on the Stadium (June, 1999), and The Colossus, his piece on the Babe (August, 1998).

The Play that Beat the Bums: Ron Fimrite’s look back at the Mickey Owens game and the 1941 season (October, 1997).

Mickey Mantle: Richard Hoffer’s piece on the legacy of the last great player on the last great team (August, 1995).

A Real Rap Session: Peter Gammons talks hitting with Ted Williams, Don Mattingly and Wade Boggs from the Baseball Preivew issue (April, 1986).

Yogi: Roy Blount’s takeout piece on the Yankee legend (April, 1984).

Once He Was an Angel (March, 1972) and Tom Terrific and His Mystic Talent (July, ’72), two classic portraits (Bo Belinsky and Tom Seaver) by Pat Jordan.

No Place in the Shade: Mark Kram considered this portrait of Cool Papa Bell to be his finest work for SI (August, 1973). And while we’re on Kram, check out A Wink at a Homely Girl, his wonderful piece about his hometown Baltimore that appeared on the eve of the ’66 World Serious (October, 1966).

Laughing on the Outside: John Schulian’s fine appreciation of the great Josh Gibson (June, 2000).

And finally, He Does it By the Numbers: Dan Okrent’s landmark essay, you know, the one that “discovered” Bill James (March, 1981).

There, that should keep you busy for more than a minute.

The rain held out on Friday night but Joe Girardi missed the fourth game of the season anyhow with the flu. On the YES broadcast, Michael Kay reported that Girardi was at the Stadium, suffering in his office. Then Ian Kennedy went out and pitched something like the way his manager must be feeling. It sure wasn’t pretty. Kennedy had no grasp of the strike zone, threw seventy pitches, and allowed six runs off four hits and four walks in two-and-one-thirds innings.

His counterpart, Andy Sonnanstine, retired six of the first seven batters he faced before running into trouble in the third–everything he threw was up–when the Yankees bashed six hits, kicked off by a cheap-o right field homer by Godzilla, and followed by three shots off the outfield wall (Molina, Jeter, Giambi). When Alex Rodriguez scored from first base on Giambi’s double, he had a wide, guileless grin on his face as he crossed the plate. It was a small, isolated moment, one that made Rodriguez look like a little boy. (It was easy to take pleasure in his enjoyment, something that is not always the case with Rodriguez.)

The Bombers scored four runs in the rally and then Sonnanstine went back to the junkyard, pitching six innings in all and retiring the last ten batters he faced. The Yanks got some handy work from the pen in the young law firm of Albaladejo, Ohlendorf and Traber, keeping the game close, at 6-4. Then LaTroy Hawkins was beat about the neck and face by Cliff Floyd and his pals. Pass the Robitussin, son. The crowd booed Hawkins and chanted “Paul O’Neill,” chiding the poor guy for having the nerve to wear O’Neill’s former number (Hawkins, who according to Pete Abraham, is an all-around swell guy in the locker room, is wearing 21 as a tribute to Roberto Clemente). When Hawkins was mercifully removed, Cooter Farnswacker replaced him and quickly served up a three-run moon shot to Carlos Pena.

13-4 was the final. Nothing a warm bowl of Jewish Penicillin and a good of sleep can’t fix.

Tampa Bay Rays

2007 Record: 66-96 (.407)
2007 Pythagorean Record: 66-96 (.407)

Manager: Joe Maddon
General Manager: Andrew Friedman

Home Ballpark (multi-year Park Factors): Tropicana Field (98/100)

Who’s Replacing Whom:

Jason Bartlett replaces Brendan Harris
Willy Aybar replaces Ty Wigginton
Elliot Johnson replaces Josh Wilson
Erik Hinske replaces Delmon Young
Nathan Haynes replaces Elijah Dukes and Rocco Baldelli (DL)
Shawn Riggans replaces Josh Paul and Raul Casanova
Matt Garza replaces Jae Weong Seo, and the starts of Casey Fossum and J.P. Howell
Trever Miller replaces Fossum’s relief innings
Howell replaces Brian Stokes in the bullpen
Troy Percival replaces Al Reyes as closer
Dan Wheeler and Scott Dohmann take over relief innings pitched by Shawn Camp, Juan Salas (minors), Jae Kuk Ryu (minors), and Grant Balfour

25-man Roster:

1B – Carlos Peña (L)
2B – Akinori Iwamura (L)
SS – Jason Bartlett (R)
3B – Willy Aybar (S)
C – Dioner Navarro (S)
RF – Eric Hinske (L)
CF – B.J. Upton (R)
LF – Carl Crawford (L)
DH – Cliff Floyd (L)

Bench:

R – Jonny Gomes (OF)
L – Nathan Haynes (OF)
S – Elliot Johnson (IF)
R – Shawn Riggans (C)

Rotation:

R – James Shields
R – Matt Garza
R – Andy Sonnanstine
R – Edwin Jackson
R – Jason Hammel

Bullpen:

R – Troy Percival
R – Al Reyes
R – Dan Wheeler
R – Gary Glover
L – Trever Miller
R – Scott Dohmann
L – J. P. Howell

15-day DL: L – Scott Kazmir, L – Kurt Birkins, R – Chad Orvella, S – Ben Zobrist (IF)
60-day DL: R – Rocco Baldelli (OF)

Lineup:

L – Akinori Iwamura (2B)
L – Carl Crawford (LF)
L – Carlos Peña (1B)
R – B.J. Upton (CF)
L – Cliff Floyd (DH)
S – Willy Aybar (3B)
L – Erik Hinske (RF)
S – Dioner Navarro (C)
R – Jason Bartlett (SS)

(more…)

The last Opening Day game at Yankee Stadium has already been treated with several heaping measures of media coverage. We can expect that level of coverage to be ramped up even higher—applied full throttle both locally and nationally—to the final regular season game scheduled for the Stadium later this year.

In contrast, the final game at the old Yankee Stadium was treated with relatively little fanfare. Only 32,238 fans showed up for the 1973 finale; barring a tornado, there will be a full house for the final game of 2008, scheduled for September 21 against the Orioles. Of course, there were several factors at play back in 1973. ESPN, Fox Sports, and the World Wide Web had not yet come into existence. (I’m not sure if Alex Belth, Cliff Corcoran, Emma Span or Will Weiss had even been born yet!) The Yankees were mired in the middle of their mediocrity phase, nine seasons removed from their last postseason appearance and still three years away from their first American League East title—and the start of a late 1970s mini-dynasty. And then there is the "reconstructionist" belief that the old Stadium and the new one are really one in the same, that the current incarnation was simply a renovation and nothing more. I don’t really buy the latter argument, not when you consider how drastically the renovation changed the look of the old Stadium, taking away the majestic old façade and those awful view-blocking pillars. (The pillars were necessary, though, in keeping the old Stadium from toppling to the Bronx floor.) The Stadium that we have enjoyed for the last 35 years, while still beautiful to these eyes, looks far different than the one that was originally created at the outset of the Babe Ruth Era in 1923.

Frankly, the final game in the old Yankee Stadium deserved a better sendoff. Although 35 years late in its delivery, here is a tribute to the final game at the original House That Ruth Built.

On the afternoon of Sunday, September 30, 1973, the Yankees and Tigers closed out their respective seasons with one final soiree before the massive two and a half year reconstruction of Yankee Stadium would take place. Although well out of contention for the American League East, the Yankees did have something to play for that afternoon. They needed a win to finish the season at .500, which would have given Ralph Houk’s final season in pinstripes some respectability.

(more…)

I have always been nervous about peeing at a urinal in a crowded public restroom. It is a leftover anxiety from childhood that I can trace directly back to my experiences at the men’s rooms in Yankee Stadium. Not that I can recall any one traumatic incident, but the overall mood of the place–loud, profane, rushed, pressurized–still makes me uneasy, the place filled with cigarette smoke and the smell of urine and beer. So I wait for a stall just like I did when I was a boy.

Last night, I went to my historic first game of the final year of Yankee Stadium. It is the earliest in the season I’ve ever been to a game. Some cherce seats landed in my lap the day before, and so here I was, in the “rattle your jewelry” section down on the field level, standing in a narrow, grey stall, trying to concentrate on peeing as I listened to a young boy crying hysterically in the stall next to me as his father, impatient and frustrated, tried to get him to stop. The walls felt as if they were closing in on me like the trash compactor scene in Star Wars, and it occurred to me that one of the benefits of the new stadium will be more spacious restrooms.

(more…)

Yesterday after work, I went down to the lower east side, between the Manhattan and Williamsburg Bridges, to meet an old friend for a bite to eat. The neighborhood is populated mostly by Asians, Jews (this is the land of the Jewish settlements), Dominicans, and, increasingly now, hipsters. Hipsters with money. Which is where my old friend fits in (as fate would have it, his apartment building is just two blocks away from where my pal’s grandparents first lived when they came to this country).

As I waited for my man in front of a playground on the corner of Essex and Strauss, I watched young Asian and hipster moms with their kids. I’m always intrigued by watching women with little boys. Sometimes, you will see women–mothers or nannies–curb little boys’ enthusiasm, their aggressiveness on the playground. But that wasn’t the case here.

One beautiful, but hard-looking young Asian mother pushed her son on a swing and occasionally looked at me warily. Another tall Scandinavian woman chased her son around a tree, and then led him to one of those jungle gyms that have stairs and a plank bridge and slides. She led the way and then waited for him to climb up the stairs. She stood several feet away as if to challenge him, but in a sweet, reassuring way. He then passed her and went down the slide. She followed, her long legs awkwardly bent like a stork attempting to sit in the kitchen sink.

I turned back to the street and saw a group of four boys, maybe all of 13 cruise down the street. The kid in the front, wearing all black, stood up on his bike, and cocked his head to the side with a cell phone pressed to his ear. He coasted through the traffic sign and his gang followed behind him. Just then, two Asian girls, maybe all of 10, walked past me. One of them clopped back and forth in that seasoned way of city kids, who look much older than they really are. This little girl, with absolutely no hips at all, actually had a switch, even though she had nothing to switch around. Man, these city girls are tough.

I listened to Slick Rick on my i-pod and stood in the fading sunlight. Old Asian women passed me, carrying transparent blue grocery bags filled with produce. I wonder what they’ll be cooking tonight. Behind them, a hipster with a takeout bag in one hand and a Whole Foods bag in the other, wearing over-sized sunglasses looked typically ridiculous.

Then a little girl, maybe 7 or 8, walked by. She looked up at me. She had a good shiner on her right eye. Her face was round and quizzical as she looked right in my eyes. She was wearing a purple jacket, red skirt, white tights with little cartoon characters on them, and bright red shoes. Like most kids, she looked like she was almost going to tip over from the weight of her backpack. She was holding hands with an older, squat man in a green coat. Just as she looked at me, “Mona Lisa” played on my i-pod and I heard:

If you see me walking down the street
And I start to cry…each time we meet…
Walk on by…walk on by…
Foolish pride
Thats all that I have left, so, let me hide
The pain and the hurt that you gave me
When you said goodbye…
You walked on by…

I looked on the ground and saw a little strip of white paper. A fortune cookie. I picked it up and it read, “Be tactful; overlook not your own opportunity.”

Tonight, Phil Hughes, gets his first start of the season, the first chance to take advantage of the opportunity the Yankees have given him. Jay Jaffe and I will brave the cold and be at the park.

Let’s Go Yan-kees!

With a fake nail on the index finger of his pitching hand, A.J. Burnett was able to throw his knuckle-curve for strikes and dominated the Yankees for six innings last night. Mike Mussina had a decent curve himself, but not the yakker he displayed in some of his spring training outings. The result was a typical post-2003 Mike Mussina start: 5 2/3 IP, 4 R, 2 K. Though Mussina kept it close, it was obvious from the very start which way the game was going to go.

Moose gave up a hard-luck unearned run in the first. Scrappy David Eckstein led off the game with a sinking liner to the right side that Giambi knocked down, but didn’t glove cleanly. When Giambi came up with the ball, he looked to flip to Mussina for the out, but Mussina, who had broken for the bag on contact, eased up when Giambi came to his feet expecting the big lug to take it himself. With no other option, Giambi did just that and his foot hit the bag at the exact instant that Eckstein’s foot did. There is no official rule that the tie goes to the runner, but that’s what happened. Giambi was charged with an error on the play, I assume for either his brief bobble or his apparent hesitation over what to do with the ball once he had it, but if Mussina covers, Eckstein’s out. Giambi made another nice play later in the game, diving up the line with his foot on the bag to snag a Derek Jeter throw in the dirt for an out, and made a valiant but fruitless (and thankfully harmless) dive into the camera pit in pursuit of a foul pop. Back in the first inning, Eckstein was move to second by a well-placed ground-ball single by Shannon Stewart and plated by a flare over Robinson Cano’s head by Alex Rios, though he would have been out had Jose Molina fielded Bobby Abreu’s throw cleanly. In Molina’s defense, he threw out both attempting Toronto base steelers in the game.

The Jays made it 3-0 in the third on a two-out walk to Rios and a two-run Vernon Wells homer to left on a hanging slider that Mussina said was his worst slider of the game. They then added on in the sixth, despite Johnny Damon snagging a would-be wall-scraping homer by Rios to start the inning. Wells followed that out with a single and was pushed to second when a Mussina changeup (Mussina called it a “lazy curve”) appeared to nick the bill of Frank Thomas’s helmet. Mussina then got Lyle Overbay to fly out for the second out and got ahead of Aaron Hill 0-2, but Hill singled Wells home on a fat 84-mile-per-hour fastball up in the zone, bringing Joe Girardi out of the dugout to make the first mid-inning pitching change of his Yankee career. LaTroy Hawkins got the third on out a fly ball with a single pitch to Marco Scutaro, proving that Girardi is a managerial genius. Unfortunately, the Jays added another run against Hawkins in the seventh when Rod Barajas hit a ground-ball double down the right field line, moved to third on an Eckstein grounder, and scored on a single by Rios.

Burnett, meanwhile, allowed just four singles through six innings and didn’t walk a man nor allow a Yankee past first base until the seventh, when Bobby Abreu led off with a walk and Alex Rodriguez followed with a two-run bomb to dead center. That shot drove Burnett from the game, but Toronto relievers Brian Tallet (two perfect innings, 4 Ks) and Jeremy Accardo were no more generous. The Yanks made thingS interesting against Accardo in the bottom of the ninth when Derek Jeter and Bobby Abreu led off with singles to put men on first and second and bring the tying run to the plate, but Alex Rodriguez struck out at the end of a tense six-pitch at-bat, Jason Giambi hit a 390-foot fly out to the 399-foot sign in center, and Robinson Cano flied out to left on the first pitch he saw to give the Jays a 5-2 win.

Tonight Mike Mussina will begin his 18th major league season and his eighth as a New York Yankee. Regardless of how he performs this year, it will likely be his last as a Yankee, as he is in the second year of the two-year contract he signed following the 2006 season. At age 39, if he struggles the way he did last year, it could prove to be his last year in the majors as well.

In the winter following the Yankees’ last World Series win, the two big free agents were Manny Ramirez and Mike Mussina. The 2000 season saw David Cone post a 6.91 ERA in his final year as a Yankee and Denny Neagle post a 5.81 mark after coming to the Bronx from Cincinnati in a mid-July deal. With a rotation just three-men deep and no apparent reinforcements on the way from the then-barren farm system, the Yankees made the correct choice by signing the 32-year-old Mussina to a six-year deal worth $88.5 million. The 28-year-old Ramirez, a Washington Heights native who longed to play in the Bronx, instead landed with the rival Red Sox for $168 million over eight years. In those eight years, both men have helped their teams to a pair of World Series appearances, but Mussina’s Yankees lost both times (despite going 2-1 in the three games Mussina pitched in those two Series), while Ramirez’s Red Sox won both times, with Ramirez claiming the MVP trophy in the team’s curse-breaking victory in 2004.

Mussina pitched well enough to earn the Cy Young award in his first year as a Yankee, but the award instead went to his rotation-mate Roger Clemens, who won 16 straight games to arrive at a 20-1 record on September 19 thanks to a handful of convenient no-decisions while Mussina went 17-11 with more than a run and a half less offensive support per game. In his first postseason with the Yankees, Mussina pitched well in three of his four starts, most memorably in the “Jeter flip” game in Oakland with the Yankees facing elimination in the ALDS. Mussina also struck out ten Diamondbacks in eight innings of two-run ball in Game 5 of that year’s World Series, but his performance was overshadowed by the fans’ chanting of Paul O’Neill’s name, Scott Brosius’s game-tying ninth-inning home run, and the Yankees’ eventual twelfth-inning victory.

In his first three seasons with the Yankees, Mussina posted a 3.52 ERA and struck out 8.07 men per nine innings against just 1.78 walks, he averaged nearly 220 innings a year, more than 6 2/3 innings per start, and more than 17 wins a year despite never reaching the magic total of 20. Since then, however, he’s been a different pitcher.

Since out-dueling Josh Beckett in Game 3 of the 2003 World Series, Mussina has posted a regular season ERA of 4.36, struck out a more pedestrian 6.97 men per nine innings (against a still-stellar 2.04 walks), and averaged just 173 1/3 innings per year and less than six innings per start. Take away his strong performance in April and May of 2006, when he briefly managed to compensate for his decreasing velocity with a Bugs Bunny changeup that would occasionally dip below 70 miles per hour, and things look even worse. Prior to 2004, Mussina had never posted an ERA below league average and only come close to average on two occasions. In the past four years, he’s only been above average once, and that was largely due to those two strong months in 2006.

Last year, Mussina struggled through his worst major league season. After getting rocked in his season debut in the bitter cold of the Bronx, he pulled a hamstring in the second inning of his next start and missed three weeks. After returning, he was more of the same, posting a 4.25 ERA, averaging six innings per start exactly, and striking out just 5.22 men per nine innings. Then, facing the Tigers at home on August 16, the bottom fell out. Mussina gave up seven runs in five innings in that start, then 13 more in 4 2/3 innings between his next two starts combined while striking out just three men total in the three outings. Things were so ugly that Joe Torre, in the heat of his final pennant race as the Yankee skipper, was all but forced to pull Mussina from the rotation in favor of rookie and first-year professional Ian Kennedy.

Kennedy pitched well, giving Mussina a two-week rest during which his only game action was a poor relief outing in an early September loss. The break seemed to do Moose some good. When Roger Clemens’ elbow discomfort forced Mussina back into the rotation, Moose returned with three strong starts, winning all three with a 1.37 ERA and lasting a full seven frames in the latter two, but he closed the regular season with another five-inning stinker. Faced with starting Mussina in Game 4 of the ALDS while facing elimination, Torre opted to give the ball to Chien-Ming Wang on three-days’ rest, a decision I supported. Wang was awful and Mussina came in to relieve in the second, but Moose allowed a pair of inherited runners to score, then coughed up two more runs of his own. That was enough to make the difference in the Yankees’ eventual 6-4 loss.

At his peak, Mussina threw in the low-90s with a devastating knuckle-curveball. This spring, he had several starts in which he had command of a monstrous curve, but his velocity was topping out in the mid-80s. Even with two rookies in the rotation, Mike Mussina is no better than the Yankees’ fifth starter. He starts the second game of the season tonight because of seniority and Andy Pettitte’s balky back. With Moose unlikely to make it out of the sixth, both Joba Chamberlain and Mariano Rivera having pitched last night, and the Yankees in the second of 20 straight games to open the year, we should get our first informative look at Joe Girardi’s bullpen moves tonight.

Facing Mussina is A.J. Burnett, who dominated the Yankees in his two starts against them last year, allowing just one run (a Johnny Damon solo homer) in 15 innings while striking out 13 and allowing just seven other hits. Burnett has a similar repertoire to Mussina (fastball, knuckle-curve, change), but has at least ten more miles per hour on his heater, which is no small difference. In contrast to Mussina’s success with his curve this spring, the oft-injured Burnett had an awful spring (7.36 ERA, just 8 Ks against 9 walks in 18 1/3 innings), which stemmed from a November incident in which Burnett slammed his pitching hand in a car door, breaking the nail on his index finger. With the nail still healing, Burnett was unable to throw his knuckle-curve until the end of spring training. That forced him to spend more time on his changeup, which could be to his benefit as the season progresses, but clearly wasn’t doing him much good in Florida. The key to tonight’s game will thus be each starter’s effectiveness with his curve, which means we could know pretty early on what kind of game to expect.

Okay, so if you could go back in time and attend any event at Yankee Stadium what would it be? The Louis-Schmelling rematch? Reggie’s three-dinger game? Chambliss’s pennant-winning homer game? Which one of these?

Oh, and speaking of randomness, let me just say this: If I could go back in time and visit any place in New York City, I’d go to the old Penn Station and the Polo Grounds.

Finally, if I could re-cast movie history, I’d have Sean Penn play Ty Cobb, not Tommy Lee Jones. And while we’re on Ron Shelton, I’d also have cast Gene Hackman play the lead role in Blaze, not Paul Newman. But more than anything I wish Art Carney had gotten the chance to reprise his stage role of Felix Unger in the movie version of The Odd Couple. Jack Lemmon was good in the movie, but man, Art Carney was in a league of his own.

Joe Girardi got his first win as the manager of the Yankees last night as the Yanks beat the Toronto Blue Jays by a score of 3-2 in front of a packed house in a beauty of a game in the final opener in the history of the original Yankee Stadium. Though it rained most of the day and again after the game, the weather for the rescheduled opener was gorgeous throughout, which was in part a tribute to the contest’s swift pace.

As I’d hoped, starters Chien-Ming Wang and Roy Halladay were both on their game and produced a riveting duel through the first seven innings. The two starting pitchers got 28 of the game’s first 41 outs on the ground, five more by strikeout, and one by caught stealing (Derek Jeter, who got a bad jump on Halladay and catcher Gregg Zaun). Wang got three more outs in the infield, two in the second via a humpback line drive to second baseman Robinson Cano, who doubled Alex Rios off first, and a rocket line drive by Marcos Scutaro in the seventh that Jason Giambi, playing in on the grass to guard against the bunt, snagged with a leap. That’s 37 of 41 outs in the infield between the two pitchers. Of those remaining four outs, two came on tremendous fourth-inning catches by Yankee center fielder Melky Cabrera. The first was a drive to the 385-foot sign in the right-centerfield gap by Lyle Overbay that Cabrera caught moments before turning and slamming back-first into the wall. Two pitches later, Aaron Hill hit a sinking liner to the left-centerfield gap that Cabrera caught on a lunge, topping forward and sliding on his chest after making the catch.

As the stellar defensive play behind Wang indicates, Halladay was the sharper of the two pitchers, but also the less fortunate. The Yankees got out to an early lead in the bottom of the first on a two-out Bobby Abreu single and a double by Alex Rodriguez that scored Abreu from first, but the Jays tied it up right away in the top of the second on a pair of singles by Frank Thomas and Lyle Overbay (the latter of which was a hard grounder hit to Alex Rodriguez’s right that ticked off the third baseman’s glove as he dove) and a fielder’s choice by Scutaro. The two aces each faced just one more than the minimum over the next four and a half innings until the Jays took the lead in the top of the fifth when Scutaro drew a lead-off walk, stole second (his second steal of the game), moved to third on a single by Zaun, and scored on a slow Shannon Stewart groundout to third.

Melky Cabrera led off the bottom of the sixth against Halladay with a ten-pitch at-bat that saw him battle back from 1-2 to a full count, fouling off four pitches along the way. On the tenth pitch, Cabrera lifted a pop fly down the right field line that just cleared the wall behind the “3” in the 314-foot sign for a game-tying home run. In the top of the seventh, Wang gave up a lead-off double to Hill, but Giambi’s snag of Scutaro’s line-drive held the runner. Hill then moved to third on the second out, a grounder of course, and Wang got David Eckstein to ground out to strand Hill.

The Yankees mounted their own threat in the bottom of the seventh following a flair single by Rodriguez over Hill’s head at second base. That lead-off hit was followed by a walk to Giambi. Cano then hit a chopper that Eckstein fielded in front of second base. Eckstein’s momentum carried him past the bag forcing him to attempt to make a tag on Giambi, but Giambi froze in the baseline and ducked Eckstein’s tag, forcing the Toronto shortstop to fire to first base in the hope of turning a 6-3-4 double play, but Giambi beat the return throw from Overbay, sliding headfirst and safely into second. A replay shows that Hill could have fielded the ball on the bag and turned an easy DP had Eckstein not cut it off, but as much credit for the eventual result of the play is due to Giambi’s savvy baserunning as to Eckstein’s aggression. Giambi, incidentally, had a fine game despite going 0 for 3. In addition to that baserunning maneuver and his leaping catch of Scutaro’s liner, Giambi made several nice scoops at first base and cut down a lead-runner at second in the second by ranging to his right for a hopper and making a nice shovel pass to Derek Jeter on the bag as his momentum carried him toward the keystone.

With Rodriguez on third and Giambi on second with one out, the Jays walked Jorge Posada to load the bases for Hideki Matsui, setting up the double play for groundballer Halladay against Groundzilla. Matsui, who went 0 for 3 with three groundouts in the game, hit a skipping grounder just to the right of second base, but the ball hit the heal of Hill’s glove on his attempt at a back-handed stop, and the Jays were only able to get Posada at second as Rodriguez scored with the go-ahead and ultimately winning run.

With Wang having maxed out at 92 pitches in the seventh (Girardi made the only mound visit of the game with two outs and Hill on third in the seventh, likely to tell Wang to empty the tank), Girardi followed the formula by calling on Joba Chamberlain in the eighth and Mariano Rivera in the ninth. Chamberlain wasn’t particularly sharp, but he still worked around a walk and struck out two for a scoreless frame. Curiously, he used his curveball more than his slider. He used the hook to get a 1-1 strike call against Alex Rios, but Rios successfully checked his swing on the slider twice, including on ball four of his ten-pitch walk. Joba’s slider was irresistible to hitters last year, so either the pitch wasn’t working last night, or the league is catching up. That will bear watching. Chamberlain got Wells looking on bit of a hanging curve that dropped into the top of the zone as Rios stole second, then made quick work of Thomas, blowing a high fastball by him for a three-pitch strikeout. Rivera needed just 12 pitches to pick up the save, striking out Overbay, getting Hill to lift an easy fly to center, and inducing a mild groundout from Scutaro to end the game. Rivera then collected the ball from Giambi and presented it to Girardi, who was clearly overjoyed by the entire experience. He couldn’t have asked for a better game.

My wife and I trekked out to Yankee Stadium yesterday, shelled out about $25 a piece on train and subway fare, then and sunk another $25 or so into some eats at the ballpark as we sat in the cold, misting rain for two and a half hours waiting for a ball game that was never played. Back in New Jersey this afternoon, the rain seems to have finally ceased and the sun is starting to filter through the still-overcast sky, but I’m not going back to the Bronx tonight. My wife is working late and, frankly, I’m too worn out and pissed off from our journey yesterday to bother, even though they should actually play the final Opening Day game in Yankee Stadium history at 7:05 tonight.

If you told me that, with tickets in hand, I’d pass up the opportunity to go to this game, I’d tell you you’re crazy, but I’ll only jump through so many hoops. As our president once said, “Fool me once, shame on . . . shame on you. Fool me . . . you can’t get fooled again.” No, I got to sit in the old Stadium yesterday and contemplate the finality of this season for the old yard. I got to see the bunting lining the face of the stands. I got to see the old familiar faces in the right field bleachers and chow down on the best Italian sausage in the Stadium, and I’ll be back there on Sunday to see Chien-Ming Wang match up against a star pitcher from a division rival, so I don’t need to endure the cold, the wind, and the remaining wet, and I don’t need to endure the crowds or the four-hour round trip on public transit necessitated by the parking crunch created by the construction of the new Stadium.

I will, however, happily and eagerly tune in the high-definition broadcast on YES from the warm and convenient comfort of my living room. I’ve also happily passed on my tickets to a good friend (and reader), so as to not rob anyone of the opportunity to see the game in person.

The Yanks will do tonight what they intended to do yesterday, complete with ceremonies and fanfare, and though my bitterness over the team’s mishandling of yesterday’s game keeps telling me it will lack some of the excitement we all expected yesterday because of the delay, the fact that it will be played at night under the lights, and the fact that the stands are unlikely to be full due to others who were similarly either unable or unwilling to alter their Tuesday schedules, deep down I doubt it will be diminished much at all.

Most of all, the game still promises a stellar pitching match-up, with ace Roy Halladay taking the mound for the Blue Jays and groundballer extraordinaire Chien-Ming Wang starting for the Yankees. Given the fact that the ground has been softened by two days of rain, if both men are on their game, their outfielders may need to find new ways to occupy themselves in the pastures this evening. I, for one, would love something along the lines of this two-hour and eight-minute gem from three Aprils ago, provided it concludes with the opposite result.

While we’re still waiting for the first pitch, here are a few items worth mentioning from the past few days:

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Unlike many of my colleagues I did not grow up reading the Bill James Abstracts. I wasn’t interested in numbers (I was given a copy of The Hidden Game of Baseball for my birthday when I was ten or eleven and didn’t open the book until I was over thirty). I didn’t read Bill James until about eight years ago when I inherited my cousin’s collection of the Abstracts. I still wasn’t especially interested in numbers (though is arguments were appealing), but I found James to be a wonderful critic and lucid writer (hey, I used to read Ruth Reichl’s restaurant reviews all the time even though I never intended to go to any of the places she wrote about, I just liked reading her). In fact, the first post ever here at Bronx Banter was about the Red Sox hiring of James.

Which brings me to the 60 Minutes segment on James that was aired this past Sunday. Anyone catch it? I thought it was superficial at best. The worst part about it was that it divided baseball people into two groups–stat heads and the people who go by their “gut,” by what their eyes tell them. In other words, the same, tired, old song. You would figure that 60 Minutes would be above this uninspired kind of journalism, even though they are a populist program. Billy Beane was mentioned as the man who brought sabermetrics to organized baseball. Nevermind Sandy Alderson, or Branch Rickey. Forget about Allan Roth. I guess it didn’t fit their narrow profile, which didn’t shed much light on the Red Sox or James.

Joe Posnanski has a good blog entry about the 60 Minutes piece over at his blog:

There were numerous silly moments, my favorite being when Morley Safer — whose first piece for 60 Minutes was, I believe, on Napoleon — made his statement about how Bill said there’s no such thing as a clutch hitter, and Red Sox Manager Terry Francona replied, “I’ve heard him say that (ed. note: very doubtful) but then I’d want him to be introduced to David Ortiz.”

Really? Does Francona really think Bill James is somehow unaware of David Ortiz?I’m always baffled when people say goofy stuff like this — when they go up to coaches and say, “Have you guys thought about playing zone?”* To me, this is a lot like hearing that a doctor has come up with a new method to perform a heart transplant, and saying, “Yeah, but have you tried that like thing where you have people open their mouths and stick tongue depressors on their tongues and stuff?”

*Roy Williams always had a classic Roy Williams-like answer whenever anyone came up to him with the “Have you thought of this” type suggestion. He would say, “No offense, but believe me, we’ve thought of it. Anything you have thought of, we’ve thought of. It’s our frickin’ job.”

Georged

Veteran scribe Peter Golenbock is writing a book on George Steinbrenner. Peter asked if I’d be kind enough to post the following request. Here goes:

Dear Yankee fans, I am researching a book on the life and times of George Steinbrenner. If any of you have any interesting stories about him, as fans, employees, or recipients of his generosity, I would love to hear them. Send them to petergolenb@yahoo.com. Please include your address and telephone number.

Yanks, Jays take two tonight…