Monthly Archives: May 2010

Welp, the Yanks got a good performance out of Javier Vazquez who gave up two runs on five hits and a couple of walks over seven innings. Only trouble, Rick Porcello was even better, throwing a good sinker, and shutting the Yanks out over seven. The Yanks had four hits for the game. 

It was scoreless until the sixth, when the Tigers collected four singles (Jackson, Damon, Cabrera, Boesch) good enough for all the scoring they’d need.

The game moved briskly (two hours and fifteen minutes, wait, this was a Yankees game?) and the Yanks had a couple of chances early–Ramino Pena stranded runners to end the second and fourth; Alex Rodriguez was robbed of an RBI extra base hit in the third. But pitching was the thing, zip, zip.

At least Vazquez was good. One bad inning that’s all, and it was far from a disaster. Still, hard to pick-up a win when your team gets blanked. The Yanks have now dropped three-straight.

Game One, Final Score: Tigers 2, Yanks 0.

[Photo Credit: Leon Halip/Getty Images]

I’ll take Jav-full as Javier Vazquez looks to have a good outing today in the first of two against the Tigers.

Go git ’em, Hoss, and Let’s Go Yan-Kees!

It’s a soup is good food day.

[Photo Credit: Lisa’s Kitchen]

The Banter wishes Yogi Berra a very happy 85th birthday!

(Photo credit: www.Britannica.com)

Times Two…

The Big Bopper…

Alfredo Aceves is headed for the DL; prospect Juan Miranda is headed for the Motor City.

The first game is set to start shortly after 1:00 pm. Game Two is just after 7. Javy and then Hughes vs Porcello and Bonderman.

[Photo Credit: Kathy Willens/AP via River Ave. Blues]

Update: Looks like I linked too soon. Greg Golson is back up, not Miranda.

In the Times, Ben Shpigel writes about Mariano Rivera, who has not pitched in nine games:

Manager Joe Girardi saw no need to insert him into any of the three blowouts in Boston over the weekend, and the Yankees never led in their 5-4 loss Monday.

“I wouldn’t imagine we’d go much longer, but these weather conditions aren’t the most conducive to a guy that had a little irritation in his oblique,” Girardi said. “I don’t consider that to be a problem, but if he’s coming in just to get some work and it’s going to be 42 degrees, I’m not sure I want to do that.”

Tonight’s game has been called on the count of rain. They’ll play two tomorrow.

Unknown, found via Uniwatch

Since we’re on a Reggie kick today, here’s a tune from Tribe’s fourth record with a reference to Buck Tater:

Our old pal Josh Wilker will be in town later this week (and into early next week) to promote his critically-praised memoir Cardboard Gods. First up, Thursday night. Josh will be featured at a No Mas event at the Nike Store in Soho from 7:30-9:30. He’ll be reading from the book and signing copies too. Oh, and there’ll be a bubble-blowing contest as well.

I’m so there.

“When you unwrap a Reggie bar, it tells you how good it is.” – Catfish Hunter

I don’t remember the first time I met Dayn Perry but it must have been about five years ago now. This was back when he was writing for Baseball Prospectus in addition to Fox Sports. We hit it off immediately and have remained pals ever since. Dayn’s got that easy Southern charm that makes for wonderful company. When he told me that he was writing a book about my boyhood hero Reggie Jackson I was more than somewhat eager to see what he’d come up with. We spoke about Reggie and the writing process often while he was working on the book and Dayn went so far as to mention me in the acknowledgements.

The book, Reggie Jackson: The Life and Thunderous Career of Baseball’s Mr. October, drops today. Dayn and I caught up recently to chat about all things Reggie and what it was like writing a biography.

Dig:

Bronx Banter: There are two big biographies out this spring, one of Willie Mays and the other on Hank Aaron. Both books are well over 500 pages and aim to be the definitive work on their subjects. Your book is leaner at 300 pages. What was behind your thinking in making this a trimmer rather than an exhaustive narrative?

Dayn Perry: Part of it was that the publisher wanted me to stay as close as possible to 100,000 words. The initial manuscript I submitted was about 20,000 words longer than the final product, so I undertook some heavy editing toward the end of the process. On another level, though, I wanted a brisk, readable book that included all the important events in Reggie’s life and aspects of his character. My hope is that we’ve achieved that.

BB: You wrote this book without Reggie’s participation. Was that because he didn’t want to talk with you?

DP: On a couple of occasions, I spoke with Reggie’s business manager and requested an interview, but I never received a response. My understanding is that he didn’t want his cooperation to detract from the book he was working on at the time with Bob Gibson and Lonnie Wheeler. That’s understandable, of course.

BB: What, if any, obstacles did it present?

DP: It made it easier because I much enjoy the solitary aspect of writing, and the more of that I’m allowed the better my work is going to be. I still conducted 50 or so interviews for the book, and they made it a better work, I think. But I think of myself more as a writer than a reporter, so the nuts-and-bolts writing–the craft aspect–is the most fulfilling part of the job. Also, I think cooperation with the subject can sometimes lead to a varnishing or leavening of the work, even if it happens unconsciously. Obviously, I had no such concerns. It’s an honest, fact-based account, but I didn’t have to worry about satisfying him at every turn.

BB: Did Reggie prevent anyone from speaking to you?

DP: Not to my knowledge. A number of former teammates of his declined to speak with me once they learned Reggie wasn’t cooperating with the project, but so far as I know he didn’t actively work to undermine my efforts.

BB: There has been so much written about Reggie, particularly during his years in New York. What does your book offer that is new?

DP: My book sheds new light on the Mets’ decision not to draft him and covers his Angels years and retirement for the first time. Some people are going to be familiar with his Oakland years, and even more people are going to be familiar with his New York years. But so much of that time is forgotten or neglected by history. I think the totality of his life–the scope of his life–is something most people haven’t grasped yet.

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Sergio Mitre took the ball to the hill for an emergency start against the Tigers tonight. That’s not a good initial ingredient for a victory, but his opposite number was also a fill-in named (checking his name…) Brad Thomas. So there was some reason to hope. The Tigers cracked Mitre for four runs, but the Yankees merely dented Thomas for two. And after some radar-gun frying relief pitching, the clearing smoke revealed a 5-4 victory for Detroit.

Both starting pitchers were bad, but Jim Leyland tossed his pea-shooter aside earlier than Joe Girardi. The bridge to the endgame flame throwers featured only an annoying run charged to Boone Logan’s suspiciously modest account (Is he hiding runs in an off-shore ERA?).

Zumaya, Chamberlain and Valverde took turns trying to short circuit the radar gun – Zumaya winning bragging rights by going over 100 mph several times. However, he almost lost the game, as the Yanks did manage to get to him for two runs in his third inning of work. Jeter had a particularly brutal game at the plate, but almost delivered the game-changing hit with the tying and go-ahead runs on with two outs in the eighth. I never thought it was going to fall, but at least he worked the count and hit it hard. The game ended on six straight K’s and only one of the victims even managed a foul ball.

(more…)

There are a lot of interesting stories surrounding the Tigers this year.

Miguel Cabrera, who drew headlines when police were called to break up a domestic dispute that got physical in his home on the morning of his team’s one-game playoff against the Twins last October (a game Detroit lost despite Cabrera’s three-run homer in the third), went to rehab for his alcoholism over the winter and has opened 2010 as one of the majors hottest hitters (.370/.457/.639 with a major league best 33 RBIs).

Dontrelle Willis, who arrived with Cabrera from the Marlins in a trade during the 2007 winter meetings but had been limited to one win in 14 starts over the past two years by leg injuries and mental illness, has emerged from his struggles to lead the rotation in ERA in the early going, though he’s been scratched from his start tonight due to the flu.

Jeremy Bonderman, the former Moneyball draftee who went to the Tigers in the Jeff Weaver/Ted Lilly deal with Carlos Pena, was a part of Detroit’s pennant winning rotation in 2006, but had been limited to three wins in 13 starts over the past two years by the after effects of heavy workloads in his early 20s, is also back in the rotation and pitching effectively. He’ll face Phil Hughes, whose innings limit was surely partially inspired by Bonderman, on Wednesday.

Joel Zumaya, the rookie fireballing relief sensation of the 2006 team who has suffered a variety of arm injuries since, including one stemming from too much Guitar Hero and one suffered while moving his belongings out of the way of the California wildfires of late 2007, is also healthy and dominating out of the pen having struck out 23 men in 18 1/3 innings without allowing a home run or a walk.

Then there’s Austin Jackson, the Yankee center field prospect sent to Detroit in the three-way deal that brought Curtis Granderson to the Bronx. It was widely believed that the 23-year-old Jackson needed a bit more seasoning in Triple-A, but the Tigers made him their Opening Day center fielder and leadoff hitter and he has responded by blowing everyone’s damn minds, leading the league with a .371 average, the majors with 49 hits, and producing a total line of .371/.420/.508 with six steals in seven attempts.

I was a Jackson doubter (his .300/.354/.405 average for Scranton last year looked like a lot of empty batting average, which is performance thus far this year might prove to be as well), but then I doubted Robinson Cano, too (he was, after all, a career .278/.331/.425 hitter in the minors). Sometimes talent and athleticism win out over prior performance, particularly with young players (Cano was 22 when the Yankees installed him at second base), and in Jackson’s case, particularly with a young athlete who had primarily focused on basketball before the Yankees backed a truck full of money up to his house at draft time.

If Jackson is anything close to the player he has appeared to be in the early going this year, the Granderson trade is going to look like a major bust. Remember, it wasn’t only Jackson, but Ian Kennedy, currently sporting a 3.48 ERA and 3.18 K/9 in the Diamondbacks’ rotation, and Phil Coke, who has been a big part of the Tigers major league best bullpen this year, who were dealt for the currently-injured and previously-slumping Granderson.

Seeing Jackson and Johnny Damon start things off for the Tigers while their replacements, Granderson and Nick Johnson languish on the disabled list won’t be much fun for Yankee fans in this series, nor will any game that pivots on the relative abilities of Coke and Boone Logan. Still, it’s important to remember that the Yankees are thisclose to the major league’s best record, while the Tigers are a decidedly average team.

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The Dog, By Francisco De Goya (1820-22)

From Dwight Garner’s review of The Last Hero: A Life of Henry Aaron:

Mr. Bryant’s book can be read as a companion piece, and a reply of sorts, to “Willie Mays: The Life, the Legend,” the recent biography by James S. Hirsch. These two ballplayers were both born in Alabama during the Great Depression (Mays in 1931, Aaron three years later), and both were among the last Hall of Famers to have played in the Negro Leagues. Their years on the field overlapped almost exactly. But they could not have been more different as personalities. Mays was joyous and electric, on the field and off, while Aaron was introverted, sometimes painfully so. They became lifelong, if low-key, antagonists.

Mr. Bryant, a senior writer for ESPN magazine, quotes the sportscaster Bob Costas as remarking, about Mays, that we “associate him with fun” and remember him with fondness. With Aaron, he added, “it is all about respect.” That quotation lingers like wood smoke over “The Last Hero.” These biographies of Mays and Aaron, taken together, are a striking and elegiac assessment of race relations in America during the 20th century. They are elegant portraits, as well, of two different ways of being a man. Wrap them both up for the 14-year-old in your life. The volume that’ll be left standing when the major book awards are handed out, though, is Mr. Bryant’s, I suspect. His is the brawny one, the one with serious and complicated swat.

…Aaron is clearly a hard man to get to know, and I’m not sure Mr. Bryant entirely does. His life off the field is detailed haphazardly: his two marriages, his children, his passions. His own words, quoted here, are mostly unmemorable. But “The Last Hero: A Life of Henry Aaron” had the forceful sweep of a well-struck essay as much as that of a first-rate biography. In an era in which home runs are now a discredited commodity, Henry Aaron looms larger than ever: a nation has returned its lonely eyes to him.

[Photo Credit: Rich Lederer of The Baseball Analysts]

This comes from Bags:

I grew up in Detroit. Used to go to old Tiger Stadium with my Dad. He once finagled seats right behind home plate for a game with the Yankees. The thing I remember most vividly was Dave Winfield. The man was huge. Just huge. Wait. Not huge. More like a giant. And he had this regal air about him. We were both speechless. I actually think that was the seed of my Yankee fandom, right there. I wasn’t as amazed by Dave Winfield as I was by the idea of New York City.

Tiger Stadium was near the epicenter of one of the great quirks of Detroit. There is a food phenomenon in Detroit known as the Coney Island Hot Dog. (It has nothing whatsoever to do with the place near Brighton Beach.) It is a natural casing dog that is fried on a flat griddle. Ever so slightly spicy. Then it goes on a soft bun. And is topped with a meat chili. And a lot of finely diced onions. And old school yellow mustard.

There are Coney Island restaurants all over Detroit. Coney Island is a food genre. Sort of like Famous Rays here. Anyone can open a Coney Island. But the ones in Detroit are “sub-branded” as they say in advertising. So there is a Layette Coney Island, and an American Coney Island, and a National Coney Island, and all kinds of other Coney Islands, scattered all over the city and the suburbs.

But here is the part I love. The two original Coney Islands are in downtown Detroit, on Lafayette Street. A short walk from old Tiger Stadium. And they are dead next door to each other. The food at one is indistinguishable from the other. But they compete. American versus Lafayette. Lafayette versus American.

They’ve been at it for 40 years. I vaguely recall going there as a very little kid with my Dad and having to walk past the gauntlet of guys out front representing the two places trying to get you to go into theirs and not the other one. Just a classic bit of Detroit weirdness that goes back to when Detroit was this vibrant place full of life and comfortable people and great (now vanished) places like the Lindell AC and the London Chop House.

Anyway. Long way around the bend, here is the story to go with the photo:

I found myself about two hours from Detroit a year or so ago. Had a noon flight back to NY. It was a Sunday. I got up at 5:00 am and drove to downtown Detroit and had myself 4 Coney Dogs with everything. For breakfast. At 6:52 am. Just me and the counter guy and the cook and some belligerent drunk. Beautiful.

Then I drove to the airport and had one more at the Coney franchise in the new terminal there.

For dessert, as Kris Kristoferson would say.

Lena Horne died last night in Manhattan. She was 92.