Monthly Archives: May 2011

Mariano Rivera didn’t look to have his best stuff last night. But with one out and a runner on first, he snagged a hard ground ball and quickly pivoted his body around to second base. In that instant I thought of the 2001 World Series, 9th inning, Game 7. That was when Rivera didn’t turn a double play. It wasn’t the worst performance of his career but it may have been the most painful as the Diamondbacks scored twice to win the Serious. I couldn’t sleep that night. I replayed the inning over and over. I wondered if a loss like that would break Rivera. It didn’t, of course. The Sandy Alomar home run in the 1997 ALDS didn’t, and neither did Game 4 and 5 of the 2004 ALCS against the Red Sox.

Now, it’s almost ten full years after the loss to the Diamonbacks and only a handful of players who appeared in the Serious are still active. None of them are performing on Rivera’s level. He’s embodiment of excellence, still graceful, a later day Fred Astaire as we like to think of him around these parts, and one of the most beautiful athletes in pro sports.

Rivera was quick enough to field the hard ground ball last night and he made a difficult throw to second base look easy. It was right on target. Cano caught it and threw to first in one smooth motion,  in time for a game-ending double play. Close play. Yanks got the call.

The Yankee players smiled as they gathered to shake hands. Smiled at an old man who still has a few moments left. He was smiling too.

And so were we.

Bill Gallo, the longtime cartoonist for the New York Daily News died yesterday. He was 88.

Filip Bondy has a loving tribute today in the News. And here is Lupica, delivering the goods:

This newspaper, the Daily News newspaper, was born in 1919, and Gallo was born in 1922 and first walked through the doors as a copy boy and into the rest of his life in 1941. He was more the Daily News than anybody who ever lived. He would keep drawing his pictures. He would keep telling his stories through those pictures to the end. We hear all the time about how the newspaper business is supposed to be dying. Nobody ever told Bill Gallo, even as he was.

“The News is the only life I ever really knew once I got back from the war,” he told me one time, not so long after I first walked through the doors of the old offices on 42nd St., between 2nd and 3rd, that famous globe in the lobby. “And it’s the only life I ever wanted.”

…He was a friend to anybody who ever opened this newspaper and cared about it. And so today, one last time, you open the paper and there is Bill Gallo. There is Bertha and old Steingrabber, and Yuchie and Thurman Munson the day after he died. There is the work of those pens and pencils and brushes. The right hand reaches out one last time, across all the years, and the business is alive and so is he.

Here is a gallery of Gallo’s work.

The News, and New York Sports, will not be the same without him.

In the top of the seventh inning, David Robertson walked Matt Treanor to load the bases with only one out. The score was 3-1 Yanks, but Robertson did not seem to have good command of his fastball and the game was on the line. That’s when Larry Rothschild sprint-trotted to the mound (check the grass for scorch marks) and saved the game. With the aid of slow-motion replay and the lip-reading techniques listed on Wikipedia, I captured his motivational speech verbatim.

“Young Robertson,” he began “what afflicts thee?”

Roberston could be seen lowering his head. He didn’t have a ready answer.

“Ho, man, return my gaze and steel thyself,” he continued. “From yonder perch I observed this right arm lagging through the delivery and sailing offerings high into the ether, but now that I have ventured forth I see it is not an arm at all, but a thunderbolt! Who among these hapless mortals with their paltry wooden clubs can meet a thunderbolt and send it back with equal force? None, I vouch, except maybe Butler, but he’s not due up until the eighth.”

Robertson lifted his chin at this point and you can see Martin give him a “WTF is he talking about” kind of look if you pause it just at the right moment. But Robertson didn’t notice.

“That is not all,” Rothschild confided as he glanced sideways at the upcoming batter. “Once you have established the thunderbolt and you feel the fear in their hearts, rotate your hand thusly, cock thy wrist and turn this crude ball into a twisting mirage. It will appear to him at first in the middle, but when he strikes, it will disappear completely from his sight. I entrust you with the magics of my people, young Robertson. Now go forth and conquer.”

Then he spit on the ground to consecrate the pitching area. To complete the ritual, we’ll assume Francisco Cervelli sacrificed his kitten in the clubhouse. The YES cameras really dropped the ball on that one.

Sufficiently roused by the visit, Robertson proceeded to strike out Escobar on one of the most beautiful curve balls you’ll ever see. And then for good measure, he struck out the next guy too on another wicked deuce. I didn’t think Getz went around, but he certainly deserved to be out by that point. He was just taking emergency hacks trying to stay alive. But between the thunderbolt and the mirage, he didn’t have a chance.

That was basically that, as Rivera and Chamberlain faced only six more batters and the Royals never threatened again. Yankees 3 – Royals 1. Mariano allowed a hit and went to three balls on the two other hitters he faced. But he whiffed Hosmer and then started a spectacular game-ending double play.

Jeter continues to get some non-infield hits. Alex Rodriguez emerged briefly from his funk to guide the game-winning hit up the middle in the fifth. Swisher made a run-saving catch in the top of that inning and Freddy Garcia continues to get the job done. I’m glad they won this one because every time they lose a good game from Garcia or Colon, I feel like they’re burning found money. And hey, Melky hit a home run. Got that out of the way, now he can go 0 for the rest of the series.

The Royales with Cheese are in town for a three game series and they are an improved team.

Cliff has the series preview.

We kick back and cheer:

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

Over at PB, Jay Jaffe looks at Brett Gardner’s turnaround:

Gardner has reached base in 10 out of his last 11 starts. As hitting coach Kevin Long said last week, “He’s turned it around. He’s had several good games as of late, and he seems like the Brett Gardner we saw last year. Getting on base, causing havoc, playing great defense.” More specifically, Long noted that Gardner had shifted in the batter’s box: “Basically he moved up closer to the plate. In a nutshell they were pitching him away, and he was coming out of his swing and not able to stay tight and compact on the outside pitch. So he’s moved up on the plate, and that’s helped him a great deal.”

Tellingly, Gardner’s strikeout-to-walk ratio in those two small samples has improved, from 14/4 in the first to 10/10 in the second, and so has his rate of pitches per plate appearance, from 4.13 during his cold spell to 4.46 in his hot one. Overall, he ranks eighth in the league in P/PA at 4.30, down from last year’s league-leading 4.61, though that figure had more than a little something to do with his midseason wrist injury. Interestingly enough, the remade Curtis Granderson currently ranks a surprising second in the AL at 4.48 P/PA.

[Picture by Joseph Holmes]

For all the hand-wringing regarding Derek “4-3ter” Jeter, the Yanks are getting even less out of their DH, mainly in the form of Jorge Posada.

Posada’s current .152/.257/.354 line in 113 plate appearances is ugly enough.  Of the 173 players who have amassed at least that many plate appearances this season, Posada ranks dead last in batting average (Kelly Johnson is next in line, at a comparatively gaudy .175), tenth-lowest in OBP (though still higher than the $142 million man Carl Crawford’s .250), and 118th-best in slugging (between Michael Cuddyer and the recently-exiled Milton Bradley).

If we consider only DHs, Posada fares no better. Of the DHs with 75 or more plate appearances, Posada is last (out of 13) in BA, next-to-last in OBP (ahead of only Magglio Ordonez) and fifth-worst in slugging.  And its not like its all about age, as 4 other DHs are 37 years old.

We all know that offense is down again in 2011, and DHs are not immune to this, as they’ve hit a composite .257/.339/.394 so far.  But the question remains, could someone (anyone) provide more offense for a role that is ONLY about offense?

We know the Jeter slippery slope towards (and below) mediocrity still has a while to play out.   The Yanks have no better internal option in the near-term.  But what about Posada?  The Yanks owe him nothing after this season, and swallowing the remainder of his 2011 salary (roughly another $11 million) would certainly sting a bit, even for the Steinbrenners.  But the Yanks do have a viable DH option down in Triple A, and we all know Jesus Montero’s value is heavily tilted towards his bat.

Looking forward towards the July 31 trade deadline, promoting Montero to full-time DH now would allow for roughly 70 games/280 at-bats to showcase what he can do at the major league level.  Assuming the Yanks will throw enough money at Russell Martin to bring him back for 2012 (when he’ll still be only 29), Montero can be safely dealt for whatever needs the Yanks may have at that time (starting pitching most likely, and middle infield help better than Pena and Nunez).

Or . . . the Yanks could hold onto Montero through the end of the year (presuming he’s putting up a 800+ OPS), and then value the free agent market before involving him in a deal.

Rob Neyer wonders the same wonder as I do, and comes down on the status quo side:

. . . nearly all of Montero’s value as a hitter this season is due to his batting average … and batting average is highly subject to luck. Which isn’t to say Montero’s not a high-average hitter; he’s got a .315 career batting average in the minors. But he might not really be a .337 hitter in Class AAA, and he might not be a .300 hitter in the American League. And given the paucity of walks and power, if he’s not hitting .300 he’s not creating many runs. Not yet, anyway.

That said, I do not think the timing is a real issue. Since when do the Yankees care about someone’s “Super 2” status? Plus, the rules regarding such things might well be different after this season, since they’re a part of the Collective Bargaining Agreement that expires soon. What the Yankees probably do care about is Montero’s development. Do they want a 21-year-old catcher serving as their primary DH? Alternatively, do they want their primary catcher learning on the job, while Russell Martin or someone else is DHing?

No, probably not.

Opinions?

Sweet SI cover this week…

Couple of days of hubba hubba.

[Picture by Jean-Francois Jonvelle]

I know it’s only Tuesday but any day is a good one for Sunday Pork Ragu, live and direct from wunnerful people at Food 52.

Albert Brooks has written a book. I hope it is good.

If it is nearly as funny as this Proust Questionnaire, the world will be an unhappier (but funnier) place.

Right-O.

So I’m in the elevator of my building the other day with a woman whose parents live on my floor. I ask her what she did for Mother’s Day.

“Oh, I just got back from my grandmother’s. She lives down in Spanish Harlem.”

“Nice.”

“I gave her two rolls of quarters.”

“…For the laundry?”

“Atlantic City.”

“The slot machines?”

“Yup, she’s going in a few weeks. I get her two rolls of quarters for every holiday, Christmas, Easter, her birthday. It’s the only thing she wants.”

[Photo Credit: Joseph Holmes]

We love sports because there is no telling what will happen. Yes, we are cynical and jaded but the element of surprise is what keeps us riveted.

Last night I went to bed with the Oklahoma City Thunder trailing by 15 points early in the first half of Game 4 against the Memphis Grizzles. The young Thunder team blew Game 3 on Saturday night and I didn’t know if they’d be able to regroup. Russell Westbrook, their wonderful point guard, seems to have trouble recognizing that he’s the second-best player on the team, next to Kevin Durant. Now losing by double digits against a tough Memphis team, well, it was time to go to bed.

I was delighted when I woke up this morning and learned that the Thunder won the game in triple overtime. Triple OT?!

Here’s John Hollinger at ESPN:

You know it’s a classic when fans of the losing team give a standing ovation at the end of it.

Few people who were in FedEx Forum on Monday will forget it anytime soon. One can safely say Game 4 of the Grizzlies-Thunder series will become a staple of future NBA TV daytime programming, after the two sides slogged through three overtimes, two miraculous game-tying 3-pointers, and three missed buzzer-beaters for the win before Oklahoma City finally won the war of attrition 133-123.

We can also safely call this series “evenly matched.” Through four games and four overtimes, we’re tied at two games apiece with a composite score of 440-438. Each side has stolen a win on the other’s home court, and each has stormed back from a huge deficit to win — with Oklahoma City’s rally from 18 down Monday offsetting Memphis’ comeback from a 16-point deficit two days earlier.

The sun is out this morning, the leaves of the trees now pea green, cool in the morning, and a gentle breeze in the evening. It’s a precious time of year. And the day started with a smile. Triple OT win, and the series is even at two.

[Photo Credit: Melisaki]

The Batman and Robin by Frank Miller.

My man Brad passed along this coolness–Project Neon: A Digital Guide to New York’s Neon Signs (by Kirsten Hively).

From the latest issue of Men’s Journal, here is “The Ferocious Life and Tragic Death of a Super Bowl Star,” by Paul Solotaroff and Rick Telander:

Dave Duerson set the scene with a hangman’s care before climbing into bed with the revolver.

The former Pro Bowl safety for the Super Bowl–champion 1985 Chicago Bears drew the curtains of his beachfront Florida condo, laid a shrine of framed medals and an American flag to his father, a World War II vet, and pulled the top sheet up over his naked body, a kindness to whoever found him later. On the dining room table were notes and a typed letter that were alternately intimate and official, telling his former wife where his assets were and whom to get in touch with to settle affairs. He detailed his motives for ending his life, citing the rupture of his family and the collapse of his finances, a five-year cliff dive from multimillionaire to a man who couldn’t pay his condo fees. Mostly, though, he talked about a raft of ailments that pained and depressed him past all tolerance: starburst headaches and blurred vision, maddening craters in his short-term memory, and his helplessness getting around the towns he knew. Once a man so acute he aced his finals at Notre Dame with little study time, he found himself now having to dash down memos about what he was doing and when. Names, simple words, what he’d eaten for dinner — it was all washing out in one long wave.

No one had to tell him what those symptoms implied or what lay in store if he stuck around. Once a savage hitter on the best defense the game has ever seen, Duerson filled the punch list for chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), the neuron-killing condition so rampant these days among middle-aged veterans of the National Football League. Andre Waters and Terry Long, both dead by their own hands; John Mackey and Ralph Wenzel, hopelessly brain-broke in their 50s. It was a bad way to die and a worse way to live, warehoused for decades in a fog, unable, finally, to know your own kids when they came to see you at the home.

[Photo Credit: L.A. Times]

Robert Lipsyte thinks that Roger Maris should be in the Hall of Fame. Allen Barra does not agree.

I just don’t see a strong case for Maris, do you?

Sunday August 7 at the Stadium gives the Runyon 5K supporting the Damon Runyon Cancer Research Foundation. Dames and Dudes welcome.

Oliver Wang digs deeper in the L.A. Times:

“Shook Ones Part II,” from “The Infamous” album, is Mobb Deep’s most-cherished hit, so iconic that when Eminem needed a draught of sonic courage in “8 Mile,” he turned to it, with its distinctive tick-tock drums and dark, minor-key bass line.

Except, it turns out, the source of that bass line wasn’t a bass line at all, one reason the sample eluded discovery. The longer “Shook Ones Part II” kept its secrets, the more it became a holy grail for sample seekers, complete with debated theories and false leads. In solving this cold case, Bronco (born Timon Heinke) and his revelation harkens to a seemingly bygone era of competitive sampling and sourcing.

In the late 1980s, as affordable digital samplers such as E-mu’s SP-1200 and Akai’s MPC-60 entered the market, beatmakers discovered the creative potential of looping and manipulating bits and pieces of music from other artists’ recordings, called “samples,” to build new songs. They sought out unused sounds on increasingly obscure records to stay ahead of their peers — and possibly copyright attorneys — and sample hounds followed just as intensely. The adage that “knowledge is power” gave samples cultural capital — DJs could build sets using “originals” while vinyl sellers could mint small fortunes by selling records sporting “known” samples.

Channeling the spirit of E.B. White, here’s Chris Jones with 20 things that should rarely, if ever, appear in your copy:

1. Is your name F. Scott Fitzgerald? [Edit: Or Gene Weingarten?] No? Then take your adverbs out back and shoot them in the head and bury them in lime.

2. Popular culture references, unless you’re writing about popular culture, in which case you should probably occasionally refer to popular culture, but only through your clenched teeth. The names Sarah Palin, Donald Trump, Bilbo Baggins, and Lady Gaga should not appear in your copy unless you’re writing a story about three fictional characters and their chance encounter with a hobbit on a quest.

3. Any sentences that read as though they might have appeared in an academic text; therefore, “therefore” is not permitted. “Heretofore?” Get the f**k out.