Monthly Archives: September 2011

Mail order bacon? Saveur’s got the spots.

The Money Trap

By John Schulian

Over the years, as I told other writers how I got into the business, I would hear again and again that it just didn’t happen that way. It was beyond improbable. It was impossible. And these were writers who hadn’t just fallen off a truckload of turkeys. They were good, some were even great, which is to say they were far more accomplished than I ever was at screenwriting. But I was the one who, for reasons I will never understand, caught a break the size of a tidal wave. No, make that a succession of breaks the size of a tidal wave.

Ordinarily, Michael Mann, the executive producer of “Miami Vice,” would have grilled me and probably demanded to see a lot more than my “L.A. Law” script. But “Vice” had consumed him the two previous years, when he was wresting control of it from its creator, Tony Yerkovich, and developing the look that revolutionized TV. Now, he was busy opening the first Hannibal Lechter move, “Manhunter,” which he’d directed, and launching his second TV series, the brilliant but underappreciated “Crime Story.” Dick Wolf, a master at seizing the moment, told him I’d covered the cops in my newspaper days. It wasn’t a lie, really. Almost all the reporters on the Baltimore Evening Sun’s city desk took a turn at police headquarters or covering the districts, and I’d taken mine, too. But I was hardly the street-smart, steely-eyed character Dick described to Mann, who shrugged and said, “Okay, if he’s the guy you want.” I should have known then that Dick would go far.

It turned out that I wouldn’t meet Mann–wouldn’t even lay eyes on him, in fact–until I’d been at “Vice” for six or seven months and had written all or part of six scripts, credited and uncredited. I did, however, have the same agent as Mann and Dick, which may or may not have helped when the time came to negotiate my deal with Universal. Even though I was basically getting on-the-job training as a TV writer, I ended up making twice what I had in my best year in Chicago as one of the country’s top sports columnists.

My agent’s name was Marty. He was soft-spoken, baby-faced, barely 30, if that. Butter wouldn’t have melted in his mouth until he was negotiating. Then he turned into a werewolf, or worse. A year or two after he began representing me, he phoned one morning and said, with consummate pride. “At Columbia they’re calling me the anti-Christ.” He’s long out of the business now, and yet he still crosses my mind occasionally. And when he does, I always think of a wonderful riff in John Gregory Dunne’s novel “The Red, White and Blue” about how all agents are Marty and all writers are Mel.

So I, being a perfect Mel, responded to the good news about my fat salary by telling Marty, “I love it when you talk dirty.”

“Dirty?” he said, offended. “Money’s not dirty.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I’m just telling you it’s a lot of money and I appreciate it.”

“Of course it’s a lot of money. I only get to keep 10 percent of it.”

When I told my mother my salary, she said, “Oh, Johnny, why do you want to make so much money?” I wish I could tell you she was kidding. She’d grown up in humble circumstances and had a very specific and deeply held notion of what constituted an obscene amount of money. This was it. I can only imagine what she would have thought about the money I went on to make, even though it was modest compared to what TV’s biggest hitters earned. She was old-fashioned that way.

Actually, she was old-fashioned in a lot of ways. She never learned to drive, for example, just took the bus and walked, which was fine by her, though it certainly limited the size of her world. But she was indomitable. And tough. She wasn’t afraid to stand up for what she thought was right, and if that meant feuding with a neighbor, so be it. I suppose I get my temper from her, though she never came close to blowing up the way I have from time to time. I’ll tell you something else about my mother: she didn’t approve of a lot of what I wrote for TV in the seven years before she died. She didn’t like the violence on “Miami Vice,” or the double entendres on “L.A. Law,” or maybe even the cigar that Dabney Coleman smoked on “The ‘Slap’ Maxwell Story.” I always felt uncomfortable about that until I read Elmore Leonard’s confession that he took it easy with sex and profanity in his novels until his mother died. Mothers cast a long shadow over a lot of us.

Mine certainly would have been much happier if I’d come home from the Army, moved back into my old bedroom, and spent the rest of my life as a worker bee at the Salt Lake Tribune. I’ve got an old friend from Salt Lake who’s the same way about his kids. Most of them have heeded their father’s wishes and stayed relatively close to home, but one is off working in New York, which is my friend’s idea of the devil’s playground. I tell him the same thing I told my mother: There’s no going back home once you’ve seen the other side of the mountain.

Click here for the full “From Ali to Xena” archives.

Check one, two.

Yeah, okay, so we wanted the Yanks to win last night and they didn’t. Big deal. They’ve still got the best record in the American League and that ain’t going to change. So here’s my question: do you root against the Yanks the next three days in the hopes that the Red Sox cough-up the wildcard?

Also, the Rangers or the Tigers? I’d much rather the Yanks face Texas in the first round. Careful what you wish for, I know, but I’d take my chances with them over Verlander, Cabrera and company.

[Photo Credit: Moiht]

It didn’t start well for John Lackey. He allowed a walk and single in the first and had runners on the corners with one out when Mark Teixeira hit a ball to the wall in right center field. It hit the top of the wall, a few inches away from being a home run. Two runs scored and the throw came in to Jason Varitek at home as Teixeira tried for third. Varitek had him easily but airmailed the ball into left field instead and Teixeira scored.

And that’s the way things have been going for the Red Sox.

Except Lackey recovered and pitched well after that. Couple of double plays helped him out and eventually, the Sox put some runs on the board. They scored one in the the fifth, another in the sixth. A wild pitch that bounced right back to Austin Romine at home plate was good enough to end the sixth when he tagged a leaping Dustin Pedrioa on the ass. It was good enough to get Ivan Nova out of trouble but Joe Girardi wouldn’t leave well enough alone, even after Nova’s pitches hung up in the strike zone, and a pair of doubles followed by an RBI single by Varitek gave the Sox a 4-3 in the seventh.

Boone Logan relieved Nova and got Jacoby Ellsbury looking and then picked off pinch-runner Joey Gathwright to end the inning.

Eric Chavez led off the bottom of the seventh with a weak ground ball that snuck into center field for a base hit and Tito Francona walked to the mound to remove his starting pitcher. Lackey moved away shaking his head. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” is what I saw his lips say as he stomped back to the dugout.

Brett Gardner, pinch-running for Chavez stole second on the first pitch Alfredo Aceves threw. The pitch also happened to go wild, so the tying run was at second with nobody out. Jesus Montero fisted a 2-2 pitch to short but it was hit softly enough for Gardner to reach third. The Sox brought their infield in but it didn’t much matter when Chris Dickerson hit a fly ball to center field for the sacrifice fly.

Tie game. Rafael Soriano got ahead of Carl Crawford 0-2 but then left a fastball over the plate and Crawford singled to center. He took off for second on Soriano’s first pitch to Pedrioa, got a good jump too, but Romine made a perfect throw, Cano made a quick tag, and Yankee fans had reason to cheer. They continued to be happy as Pedrioa and Ortiz grounded out to end the inning.

Aceves got the first two men out in the bottom of the eighth and then Josh Bard retired Robinson Cano on a grounder to second.

Mariano replaced Soriano and served-up an opposite field base hit to Adrain Gonzalez to start the ninth (fastball on the outside part of the plate but way up in the zone). Lars Anderson pinch-ran for Gonzalez and Mike Aviles sacrificed him to second. J.D. Drew, making his first start since Christ was a Cowboy, grounded out to first, pushing Anderson to third. Girardi walked to the mound and the infielders joined him. Mariano smiled because Marco Scutaro was coming to bat and the sombitch has a happy history against Rivera. That brought up Jarrod Saltalamacchia, who took a fastball right down Broadway for a strike. Then he took a fastball on the outside corner for strike two. Took anther fastball, just off the outside corner for a ball. A pitch Rivera usually gets. And then the unfair one: a cutter, low and inside, breaking late, almost at Salty’s ankles. He swung right over it for the third out.

Teixeira battled Bard to led off the bottom of the inning and after twelve pitches drew a walk. Greg Golson came in to run and Swisher came to bat as Jonathan Paplebon quickly warmed-up in the bullpen. A throw to first, a strike, then Bard stepped off the rubber before throwing a pitch in the dirt. Another throw to first, this one Anderson had to scoop to keep from going past him. A fastball just under Swisher’s armpits for ball two. A bigger lead for Golson and a throw to first. Paplebon almost ready. Golson ran and Swisher hit a ground ball to first, one out.

Gardner–0-5 lifetime against Bard–took a fastball for a strike and then tapped out weakly to first, Golson to third. And then, an intentional walk to The Jesus. The young Brandon Laird up, but what’s this? Jorge Posada. Pinch hitter. The old man. Believe it.

Fastball, way outside for a ball. Another heater, again, way out of the strike zone, ball two. Another heater missed so they walked him intentionally.

Enter Paplebon. Mr. Romine, this is your life, son.

Slider, up, hanging, fouled off. Fastball, low and inside. Fastball, right there, fouled back. Had a good swing, too. Fastball, in, 97mph, fouled back. Then a breaking pitch in the dirt, swung on and missed. He had his chances, had some good pitches, but he got beat.

Raul Valdes came in for Mo and the deflated sound you heard was the commenters on the Banter. You know how it goes. Ellsbury blooped a single over Nunez’s head but was cut down at second when Crawford tried to sacrifice him over. Crawford reached first and Cory Wade replaced Valdes. Crawford did not run and it took seven pitches for Wade to strike Pedrioa out. Then Ortiz flew out to left to end the inning.

Paplebon tossed a scoreless frame and then Wade did the same so Paps did it again. Wade got one out in the 12th and then gave way to Aaron Laffey. And now the Banter Crew was just plain annoyed. Even more so when Salty lined a single to left. But then Ellsbury hit into a 4-6-3 double play. Go figure, indeed.

Franklin Morales, a lefty, was Boston’s new pitcher in the bottom of the inning. He threw stack cheddar and The Jesus got some good hacks in, fouling pitches off, and he laid off a 2-2 curve ball before blooping a single to left. Ramiro Pena, in his first time hitting, stabbed at the first pitch and popped it foul, just out of Salty’s reach. Morales slung a pick off throw to first that Anderson grabbed, saving another potential throwing error. Then Pena bunted a ball right at Morales, who bobbled it, but still had plenty of time to nail Montero at second for the first out. Romine had a good pass at a fastball but struck out looking at a high slider and Nunez, hacking wildly, popped up to Pedrioa.

Unlucky 13.

I mean, Aaron Laffey, right? He got Crawford to line out to third and then Pedrioa had one of those Kevin Youkilis at bats, 9 pitches, hits a soft ground ball to third, Pena fired it to first, Pedrioa did his best Pete Rose and dove to the bag. The throw beat him, easily, but Tim McClelland called him safe. Unlucky 13, it was nothing short of a horrible call. Swisher yelled and Girardi got thrown out of the game. Ortiz flew out just shy of the warning track in left. Pedrioa led off first, unable to get a good break. Laffey threw over, fell behind Anderson but then regrouped and struck out the first baseman for the third out.

Pedrioa made a slick play, picking a hard-hit ball by Granderson for the first out in the bottom of the inning. Morales still in there. Cano walked and Andruw Jones stayed on the bench as Golson came to hit. And Golson worked the count full, fouled off a fastball and took a curve ball with no bite for ball four.

Swisher. 0-5 Swisher. Called out at first earlier in the game at first when he was safe. Playing first when Pedrioa was called safe. So Swisher hit a fly ball to right for the second out, Cano moved to third. And Gardner whiffed.

Unlucky 13.

How long could Laffey hang in there, tempting fate? Really, now. But he got an out and then Tony Pena took him out in favor of the human white flag, none other than our old pal Scott Proctor. Now, I’m sure Proctor is a decent guy. He once burned his glove on the field after a bad game in the old Stadium. And he’s a recovering alcoholic who sat alone in the player’s lounge a few days ago when the Yanks clinched the AL East. Sympathetic guy. But not the guy who is going to get outs before he gives up hits and runs anymore.

Darnell McDonald, pinch-hitting for Drew, singled to left. Scutaro walked. Do you want to know more? Isn’t it obvious where this is going? Okay, we’ve come this far, I won’t leave you hanging. Salty hit a ball a long way, in the park, but far enough to chase Granderson to the warning track in center field, far enough to allow McDonald to tag to third. And then Ellsbury. You know, the MVP candidate. Maybe he’ll win the award after hitting a ball over the fence in right center field for a three run homer.

Yeah, the Rays won’t be sending Scott Proctor a Christmas present. And I suppose ol’ Scott won’t make the playoff roster, not that he would have if he’d pitched well here.

You can’t blame Proctor for being himself. Jones, Rodriguez, Martin and Jeter never got off the bench and while the Yanks would have liked to win this one, it was clear that Girardi did not want to win at all costs. He’s got more pressing matters than the Red Sox. For Boston, however, a long day’s journey into night, ended with a sigh of relief. They remain a game ahead of Tampa. Ellsbury gets their biggest hit of the year and as I’ve said all week, I’d be surprised if they don’t make the playoffs.

Final Score: Sox 7, Yanks 4. 

[Photo Credit: Alex Duprey]

It’s Ivan Nova vs. John Lackey tonight.

File this one under the “Go Figure” department. A.J. Burnett pitched a nice game, and by his recent standards it was even better than that. He gave up two solo home runs to Jacboy Ellsbury but pitched into the eighth inning and well, let’s face it, he did better than anyone could have expected. Derek Jeter had three hits and is now batting and even .300; Jorge Posada had a couple too, including a two-run homer, and Alex Rodriguez added an RBI single.

“This game is kinda boring,” my wife said to me in the seventh inning.

The best kind of boring there is, my dear.

With the 6-2 win, the Yanks have secured the best record in the American League.

The Rays have also won putting the pressure on the Red Sox tonight (oh, and the Pats lost a close one to the Buffalo Bills to boot). John Lackey is starting and so Red Sox fans have probably lost all faith. But in keeping with the “Go Figure” theme, I think he’ll do well enough, and the Sox will take the second game to stay one game ahead of the Rays. Hope I’m wrong, but that’s my feeling.

I went shopping at Fairway this morning and talked tough with the Yankee fans I encountered. Smiles all around. Then an older guy comes up to me and says, “I’ve been rooting for the Red Sox for over sixty years. They are going to blow this.”

Who was I to tell him he was wrong? But I still say the Sox make the playoffs. And I’m not just trying to reverse jinx it–I’d be as happy as the next Yankee fan if the Sox find a way to blow it–I just don’t see it happening. I’ve got a bet with a friend who is a Sox fan–he buys me dinner if the Sox make it to the playoffs, I buy him dinner if they blow it. That’s a win, win for me.

It was supposed to rain all day but the sun is peaking out now. Double-header at the Stadium.

Here’s the Game 1 fun:

Brett Gardner CF
Derek Jeter SS
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Jorge Posada DH
Andruw Jones LF
Russell Martin C
Chris Dickerson RF
Brandon Laird 1B
Ramiro Pena 2B

Against…

Ellsbury CF
Crawford LF
Pedroia 2B
Ortiz DH
Gonzalez 1B
Aviles 3B
Scutaro SS
Reddick RF
Saltalamacchia C

Never mind coasting:

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Photo Credit: Food Addict]

Indeed.

One of the joys of fatherhood is indoctrination. My daughter Alison is eleven years old, and I’ve been filling her head with baseball since her earliest days. At bedtime we’d read stories about Jackie Robinson and Lou Gehrig and Shoeless Joe Jackson, and my heart would fill with pride when she’d identify photos of Josh Gibson or Babe Ruth or tell her mother a story about Cool Papa Bell.

Alison’s interest in baseball has naturally led to a love of the Yankees, and recently she’s begun to gravitate towards certain players. Derek Jeter has always been her favorite, mainly because he’s her father’s favorite, but she’s also become attached to players of her own, like Nick Swisher.

Jorge Posada has been another of her guys, and she’s been bothered by his reduced role this season. (But I’ll never forget the bewildered look on her face last August when I told her that he had played second base.) When Jesus Montero was finally called up on September 1st, I explained to her how excited I was to watch him play since he was the top prospect in the Yankee system.

“What position does he play?”
“He’s a catcher, but he’ll probably just DH this season.”
“But what about Jorge Posada? Where will he play?”
“Well, if Montero plays well, Posada might not play very much anymore.”

Alison’s brow furrowed for just a second before she passed judgment on Montero.

“Then I don’t want him to do well.”

I tried to explain to her that this was the nature of baseball, that as our favorite players age, there will always be younger players waiting to take over for them. I promised her that it happened to all players, even the very best, and that even though it’s a little sad, we might eventually grow to love the new players as much as the ones they were replacing.

“I still don’t want him to do well.” She’s a fan.

Alison happened to be sitting next to me on the couch when Montero came to the plate with the bases loaded in a scoreless game in the bottom of the second. The usually reliable Jon Lester was on the mound, so even though the Red Sox had been wandering the desert for a few weeks, it certainly felt like this was a big at bat. If the Yankees were to squander this scoring opportunity, they might not get another.

“Jesus Montero is up. Let’s see what he can do here.”
“I don’t like him.” She scowled.

Alison isn’t ready to like Montero, but she liked the result of this at bat. After working himself into a 3-1 count, he looped a line drive to left, scoring Robinson Canó and opening up a 1-0 lead. Russell Martin followed that with a single to score two more, and chests began tightening throughout New England. But it would get worse; Derek Jeter was up next. He liked the looks of the first pitch he saw and shot it into the stands in right center field for a three-run home run. Suddenly the lead had doubled to six, and Boston fans couldn’t be blamed for thinking back thirty-three years to another lead that slipped away.

Things got worse still for the Sox in the third, and again it was Montero. He came to the plate with two outs and runners on first and second, and he smoked the first pitch he saw (and the last Lester would throw) to the wall in left center field. Both runners scored, bringing the lead to 8-0. The game wasn’t yet three innings old, and already the Red Sox were resigned to watching the scoreboard and hoping the Rays would lose. (They wouldn’t.)

Montero struck again in the sixth. Leading off against Junichi Tazawa, Montero patiently worked the count in his favor, then effortlessly flicked a 3-1 pitch into the seats in right for the fourth home run of his three-week career. In three at bats he had singled, doubled, and homered, totaling four RBIs. He’s currently hitting .346/.414/.635 with three doubles, four home runs, and twelve RBIs. Sure, it’s a small sample, but it’s enough.

Whether Alison likes it or not, the future has arrived.

For the Red Sox, the future might be arriving faster than they’d like. Saturday’s 9-1 loss coupled with a Tampa Bay win to shrink their lead to two in the loss column, and I’m sure the Yankees would enjoy nothing more than a double header sweep on Sunday.

[Photo Credit: Bill Kostroun/Associated Press]

Yanks, Sox: Fox.

Make it count, boys.

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

Mornin’!

Weather situations like this would invariably lead Mike Bonner, the Yankees’ game production guru, to roll out his interminable loop of rain-related songs that included “Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head” to “Riders on the Storm,” “Have You Ever Seen The Rain,” Who’ll Stop The Rain,” “Fool in the Rain” and any other rock/pop tune that had a hint of precipitation in the title.

As of 6 p.m., despite the radar showing “a big green blob out there coming this way,” as Joe Girardi told reporters at the start of his pregame media session, the Yankees and Red Sox had still planned on trying to play Friday night’s game. At 7:05, the game was officially postponed. Friday’s game will be played as the second game of a doubleheader on Sunday. The game will start at 6:30.

Kudos to the umpires for making the decision early and not delaying until after the West Coast games begin. The Yankees have already been through this twice this season — once with the Red Sox and once with the Orioles, where they had home games start after 10:30.

Freddy Garcia, the scheduled starter, will get the ball tomorrow afternoon in what could be his last audition for a Division Series start.

Should be a fun couple of days, if they can get the games in.

Yanks have a chance to make life miserable for the Sox this weekend.

Cliff’s got the preview.

Supposed to rain for the next three days.

Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Mark Teixeira 1B
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Robinson Cano 2B
Nick Swisher RF
Andruw Jones LF
Jesus Montero DH
Russell Martin C

Never mind the galoshes:

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Photo Credit: Retrogasm]

Here’s our man Ted Berg talking Yanks-Sox with Mark Normanin:

Man, it’s dark and wet out there. It’s not going to be a pretty weekend of baseball in the Bronx, that’s for sure.

Over at SI., Cliff says that the much-hyped starting rotation in Philadelphia has been better than expected:

It’s safe to say the Phillies lived up to the hype this year. When Cliff Lee signed with the Phillies in December, joining a rotation that already boasted Roy Halladay, Cole Hamels and Roy Oswalt, the buzz surrounding what many thought could be the greatest starting rotation in major league history was deafening. Anytime hype reaches such a fever pitch a backlash is inevitable, but seeing what the Phillies have accomplished this year, it’s clear that it was more than just hype. Not only have the Phillies put together the best record in baseball (by 4 ½ games over the Yankees), and run away with their division, (currently leading the Braves by 10 ½ games in the NL East, already having clinched not only the division but home-field advantage throughout the playoffs), but Halladay, Lee and Hamels are very likely to be three of the top four finishers in the NL Cy Young voting.

The closest that has ever come to happening was in 1998, when the Braves’ Tom Glavine, Greg Maddux and John Smoltz each finished in the top four places, but among five pitchers, with Maddux and Smoltz tied for fourth behind Glavine and Padres’ Trevor Hoffman and Kevin Brown. The 2005 Astros had three of the top five, with Roger Clemens finishing third, Roy Oswalt fourth and Andy Pettitte tied for fifth.

[Picture by Miqulski]

“Louise de Broglie, Countesse d’Haussonville,” By Ingres (1845)

It’s at the Frick.

Yeah, mon.

[Photo Credit: Mary Robinson]

There are few things in this world that are as essential, and as satisfying, as a good bakery.

This coming from someone who doesn’t have one anywhere near him.

[Photo Credit: Dina. M]

On my way to the subway this morning I see a bus trying to make a left turn on a narrow street. But a car going the other way is blocking it. They both stop and soon there are several cars behind the car. The bus driver folds her arms and waits.

The woman driving the car blinks first and does a u-turn to let the bus pass.