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January 13, 2025
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Monthly Archives: October 2011
Diggum, Smack
Another Yankee season is over. This was the ninth season that we’ve covered here at Bronx Banter and once again, it’s been too much fun, hanging with you, growing and living life with you. And we ain’t going anywhere. This is a 365-day-a-year jernt.
Keep coming back. We’ll keep diggin’ up the good stuff fuh ya.
New York Minute
Carrying a Kindle on the subway is not big deal. Nobody wants to steal a Kindle. They want iPads and iPhones. But while I was away, my wife started up with the Kindle and I’ve got to switch to other reading. I wouldn’t mind carrying a book or a magazine or something, but I’m halfway through the fifth book of the Song of Ice and Fire series and I’m not stopping there. It would be like pausing to set up camp on the final quarter of the descent from Everest.
But that leaves the tablet or the phone as my reading choices. The phone is too small for me. But damn, I did not feel comfortable at all whipping that other thing out. It’s a little too heavy for super-easy handling and it’s incredibly conspicuous. It’s designed to catch your eye after all. One of the stops on my route is notorious for ripping off iPads, and I looked down to see that I’m clutching the corners with white fingertips.
I’ve got to get that Kindle back, Daenerys Targaryen is counting on me.
Beat of the Day
Just say Stet.
Alex Rodriguez is the Devil
That’s a nice word for what he is. At least according to most of the people I’ve run across this morning. Garbage, choker, loser. Again, that’s the clean version.
The writers are taking their hacks too.
The one good swing he had in that bases loaded at bat–“that’s the best swing he’s had all series,” said Ron Darling–the pitch he fouled back, that’s the one that hurts. He’s their most expensive player so the criticism comes with the territory.
Last night, the Yanks were right there, and I kept waiting for the moment when we could all scream and yell with delight. It never came. Reminded me of the old joke about the sadist and the masochist.
Masochist says, “Beat me, beat me.”
Sadist says: “No.”
[Photo Credit: N.Y. Daily News]
Ah Ha: The Thing With Feathers
Would you believe the sun rose in the east this morning? It’s true. One of the great things about living in New York at a time like this is that you can find someone to commiserate with no problem. But also, there are so many New Yorkers that don’t care, not even a little bit, about what happened to the Yankees last night. And not because they are Mets fans or Yankee-haters but because they don’t know from baseball.
So it’s easy to lose yourself back in life. Yeah, I had some hard feelings trying to get to sleep last night–Alex Rodriguez striking out to end the game, Swisher whiffing with the bases loaded, Russell Martin on his tippy-toes after getting called out looking, man, how many fat pitches did they miss?–but soon they will fade away. Maybe not today or next week but soon enough. And of course, there is reason to be worried about Ivan Nova. But then, there is always something to worry about.
And we do have the memory of Mariano Rivera throwing nine pitches in the ALDS. And all of them were right on the money, weren’t they?
In the Books
On the line at Yankee Stadium tonight, the end of the season versus the glory of the ALCS. Agony or ecstasy in their undiluted forms. Nervous, excited? Sure. Not scared though, that’s not our thing.
Rookie Ivan Nova fired the ball at Austin Jackson to start the game and whatever butterflies were in my stomach were blown away by the gas same as Jackson.
Don Kelly stepped to plate and Nova continued to deal. With a strike to Kelly, he threw his wrinkle curve for the second pitch. Kelly opened up, waited and hooked the spinning orb into the right field seats. You’ve seen Paul O’Neill do it a bunch of times. Same little flick. The next pitch to Dangerous Delmon Young was a change-up. Good idea to the first-pitch-fastball loving Young, but up at the top of the strike zone, the change up is vulnerable. Young, the best hitter in this series from either team, killed it. 2-0 Tigers, and the butterflies returned hauling lead.
Derek Jeter led off the first for the Yankees by swatting a hot shot down the first base line but Miguel Cabrera fell and smothered it with his big belly. I wonder now how difficult a play that really was, but at the time I figured Jeter wuz robbed. The Yankees went quietly after that.
Nova battled with Magglio Ordonez to start the second. Nova kept throwing good pitches, but Ordonez eventually tugged at a low breaking ball and scalded it into the left field corner for a double. Nova retired Avila on a grounder to second and caught a break when Jhonny Peralta shot a bullet right to Alex Rodriguez for the second out. He struck out Ramon Santiago to end the threat. And his night, as it turns out. He had forearm stiffness and could not continue.
Nova was confident and he was aggressive. He threw strikes and looked good with his fastball. But he let up two home runs on poorly executed off speed pitches and put the Yanks in a hole. Nobody is going to blame Nova for blowing the season, but it would have been nice to give the Yanks a crack at drawing first blood.
Mark Teixeira hit a ground rule double with one out in the second. The Yanks could not move him around. Two backwards Ks made the inning especially frustrating. Phil Hughes replaced Nova in the third and had a great inning. He rang up two strike outs and he got Miguel Cabrera to ground out. The best part is that when facing Delmon Young, he merely yielded a laser beam single.
Gardner’s single and Granderson’s walk preceded Cano with two outs in the third. He got a tough strike call on the ump’s favorite corner (again, the lefty batter’s outside corner was given generously) and battled from there. He protected close pitches, though I have no idea if they would have been called strikes. I give Robbie the benefit of the doubt considering the previous calls. He got a couple of chances at hittable pitches and couldn’t produce. He flew out on a high heater to center to end the inning.
Hughes started the fourth and retired Victor Martinez. Ordonez smacked a fastball to right for a single and that was it for Hughes. How far could he have gone? He looked pretty sharp. But trailing 2-0 and a long winter of fishing for CC awaiting the Yankees, Girardi went to Logan to face the lefty Alex Avila. Avila was hitless in the entire series up to that point, so of course he hit the first pitch for a single. Logan got the righties though and the score stayed at 2-0.
Finally in the fourth, the Yankees looked dangerous. Alex walked and Swisher and Posada hit singles after a Teixeira pop out. Bases loaded. Russell Martin popped out. Brett Gardner popped out and the air went of the balloon with a sickening hiss.
CC Sabathia started the sixth facing Austin Jackson. In Game Three, they had several very frustrating match ups. Add another one to the list. Jackson hit a broken bat double on a pitcher’s pitch deep into the at bat. Sabathia responded to strikeout Don Kelly and Delmon Young, though he had to work for it. Girardi called for the intentional walk to Miguel Cabrera. Figure a homer by either Cabrera or Martinez was going to kill the game, so might as well make the less powerful guy end it. Sabathia threw a fat breaking ball down the middle and Martinez served right back into center field for a dreaded two-out RBI. The inning ended there, 3-0 Tigers.
Things looked grim at that point. But Fister did not look good enough to hold the Yankees down forever. He got two quick outs in the fifth and faced Cano. He threw a little cutter or slider toward the inside corner and Robinson turned on it like a woman scorned, launching it into the second deck. 3-1.
CC came back out for the sixth and retired Alex Avila. If Alex Avila could have batted for every single spot in the lineup, the Yankees would have thrown three shutouts and maybe two no-hitters. He walked Jhonny Peralta and gave way to Rafeal Soriano. It was the end of a very sad ALDS for CC. Hope it was not his last game as a Yankee. Soriano got a double play ground ball to clear the slate.
The Tigers went to pen to start the sixth, which I thought was a good idea. Fister had thrown 92 pitches and in a two-run game, no need to push things. Jim Leyland called on Game Two hero Max Scherzer. He looked less than he was in Game 2, but he still got the first two outs. Posada managed to ground another single for his sixth hit of a fantastic ALDS, but Martin whiffed on a change-up two feet inside.
The Detroit pitchers really had it made in this series – at least the two games I covered. The umps gave the pitcher’s a ton of latitude on that one corner, and every pitcher they trotted out had a natural fade right to that spot. The Yankee southpaws were left to swing at pitches on the outside corner or off the corner and not being sure where strikes ended and balls began. The righties had it even tougher, as they almost had to be hit by a pitch to get a ball called on the inside corner.
At this point, let’s just skip past the Platonic Ideal of the Yankee bullpen which retired 11 straight Tigers which ease from the sixth through the ninth. Precision and power; if you blinked, you missed them pitch. Soriano, Hammer, Sandman. Nothing but slack-jawed gawkers in their wake.
The Yankees loaded the bases with one out again in the seventh. Derek Jeter hit a slow grounder and hustled his ass-off for a hit. Joaquin Benoit replaced Scherzer to face Curtis Granderson. Granderson put on his best at bat of the night, worked the count full and guided a low outside pitch into right for a single. Jeter did not realize how deep the right fielder was playing, because he could have made it to third easily. He got there on the next pitch as Cano squeaked it off the end of the bat and it spun past Benoit for an unlikely hit. Bases loaded for Alex. He got one beautiful pitch right down the pipe and he fouled the fastball back. He swung through a change up well out of the strike zone for strike three. You could lick the disappointment oozing out of the Stadium.
Mark Teixeira came up next and took five straight pitches for a walk and a 3-2 game. All five pitches looked like balls, though the one called a strike was on the upper edge which usually does not get called. Benoit threw another five straight balls to Swisher, but this time he recorded a strike out for his troubles. The first pitch, which was both high and outside, was called a strike and it screwed up the rest of the at bat. Benoit just kept aiming near that same spot and Swisher finally swung at a couple of them. He missed.
The bottom of the eighth got quickly to Gardner with two outs. Somehow Benoit was still in there. I thought he was going to blow it on every fastball he threw. Gardner slapped a single through the hole and everybody knew a steal was coming. Benoit threw a high heater, Gardner broke, and Jeter swung. I was shocked, but the ball looked right off the bat. The kind of fly ball to right that just carries over the wall at the last instant. The right fielder Don Kelly got back to the wall and reached up his arms. Their was no kid to pull the ball into the stands, and Kelly caught it against the wall.
Should Jeter have let Gardner steal? My opinion is that when the tying or go ahead run is at the plate, he should have carte blanche to swing away. The best way to win the game is with a home run right there. Jeter almost got it. It was just an out and now I wish he hadn’t swung, but I trust the hitters to make the determination. If they can crush a pitch, they should swing. I don’t fault Jeter for that decision, he gave it a ride.
Trailing 3-2 entering the ninth, the Yankees sent their two best hitters to the plate against the guy who guaranteed he would beat them. It was a pretty great showdown. To beat the Yankees, Jose Valverde would have to beat their best. And if he brought that weak-ass shit he brought in Games Two and Three, the Yankees were going to beat him. The stage was set for a Yankee Classic.
But it never happened. Curtis Granderson worked a long at bat and got two pitches to hit. He fouled off the first one. He popped up the last one. He missed them, plain and simple. Pitches he’s tattooed all year long, he missed them. Robinson Cano got a sweet chance when the first fastball tailed right into his happy zone, but his lumber betrayed him. His swing looked pure, but on contact the bat came into two pieces and the ball lost crucial juice. It went all the way out to fairly deep center where Austin Jackson made the catch. I have no trouble imagining where that ball was headed had the bat maintained structural integrity. It was going to a happy place.
That left it up to Alex Rodriguez. Whatever good will that man built up in this town with his epic 2009 Postseason, he may have squandered tonight. Hopefully we’re not that fickle. He struck with the bases loaded and one out in the seventh when a hit would have tied the game. As the tying run, he struck out in the ninth to end the season. He took a low strike and watched a splitter float over the middle. He finally went right through a fastball down the middle.
*****
Having the season end in ALDS sucks beyond anything else, except not making it in the first place, or of course, losing to the Red Sox. I’d rather get stuck with the hideous memories of the ninth inning of Game Seven in Arizona than be eliminated like this. The Postseason stretches on endlessly, but it’s like a phantom limb for Yankee fans now. We can feel it out there, but we can’t see it, can’t touch it, can’t use it. Reality crashes in and our world opens up for other things to fill baseball’s void. But that happens anyway. A few more weeks was all we asked. And an honest chance at number 28.
All year long, I noticed that the Yankees win big and lose close. That’s the mark of a very good team. I wish they won more games when trailing late. Maybe that’s entirely a function of luck and timing which the players cannot control. The 2009 team did it all year long and then they did it in the Postseason and won a World Series. The 2011 team rarely did it in the regular season and failed in three comeback bids in the ALDS. Each time one swing of the bat at the right time would have won the game for the Yankees. But they never got that swing. In 2009, they easily could have been knocked out by the Twins or Angels if not for Arod’s heroics. If Jeter gets three feet more on his eighth inning drive, the Yankees are the team with heart and character. A few feet short and they’re overpaid losers.
The Yankees are the better team. I don’t think anyone could walk away from this series thinking the Tigers outplayed them. But CC Sabathia went head to head with Justin Verlander and got smacked down. CC got no decisions, but his performances in Game Three and Five went a long way to deciding the series for Detroit. The starting pitching scared many of us before the ALDS, but they Yankees were fine there. It was CC and the bats, scoring nine runs total in their three losses. Not cashing in on any of the big moments in all three losses. Legends were ripe for the making, but not this year.
I covered the end of 2010, and now the end of 2011. I think this is much, much worse than last year. Maybe that’s the fresh sting, but I’m sticking to it.
*****
Couple last things though, because this is baseball, and the Yankees gave us a good season and they don’t deserve to go out in a flood of piss and vinegar. Not what we wanted, given how they ended the year on top, but from where I started with this team, I give them mad props. Thinking they were a third place finisher who might catch a break and snag the Wild Card to winning 97 games at a trot, wow.
We probably will never see Jorge Posada play baseball again. He was one hell of a Yankee. I think ultimately he came up too late in his career to accumulate the numbers he’ll need to be ensrhined in Cooperstown, but I would support an even bigger honor. Having his number retired by the Yankees. What a wonderful ALDS. Thanks for everything Jorge.
And though it will be impossible not to take this loss with us into the upcoming off-season, be sure to take something else with you. Mariano Rivera in the ninth inning of Game 5. Has he ever looked better? He broke bats like match sticks. Martin never moved his glove even a hair. And his pitches spun and cut at breathtaking speed. Vaverde got three saves, got to celebrate, but Mariano reached Nirvana in his final inning of the 2011 season. Take that with you, too.
Do or Die
Down to this. One game. Score Truck, please. And Mariano.
Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Robinson Cano 2B
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Mark Teixeira 1B
Nick Swisher RF
Jorge Posada DH
Russell Martin C
Brett Gardner LF
Never mind the pit in the bottom of your stomach:
Let’s Go Yank-ees!
[Photo Credit: Zoo Y0rk]
Color by Numbers: Winner Take All
Sometimes, drama in baseball can be drowned out by the sea of 162 games. Even in the postseason, urgency can be limited by the margin for error built into a multi-game series. However, once it becomes winner-take-all, all bets are off and the tension really mounts.
Major League Baseball has gone years without a single sudden death game, but now it has already been blessed with three, a total that matches the last four seasons combined. Although the games that force a “double elimination” scenario can sometimes be more memorable (see Don Denkinger, Billy Buckner, and Steve Bartman), it is usually when both teams have their backs against the wall that legends are born in October.
Sudden Death Games by Season, Since the Advent of Divisional Play
Source: Baseball-reference.com
Perhaps the best example of a player going from relative obscurity to immorality is Francisco Cabrera, who, despite having fewer than 400 plate appearances in his career, earned a place in baseball lore by authoring one of the most dramatic moments in the sport’s history. Cabrera’s two-run single, which vaulted the Braves over the Pirates in game 7 of the 1992 NLCS, still reverberates to this day, and it’s easy to understand why. Cabrera’s game winning hit ranks as the highest WPA by any player in a sudden death postseason game, not to mention a single at bat (out of 1,934 games and 5,708 PAs). In other words, there has never been a more significant postseason turning point (which some might argue also reversed the course of the Pirates’ franchise).
Top-10 Sudden Death Games by a Batter, Ranked by WPA
Source: Baseball-reference.com
One year earlier, the Braves were on the other end of a historic, winner-take-all performance. Entering game 7 of the 1991 World Series, everyone expected a pitchers’ duel, but no one could have anticipated that length to which Jack Morris would go, both literally and figuratively. Morris matched zeros with John Smoltz for eight innings, but didn’t stop there. The right hander also shutdown the Braves in the ninth and then the tenth as well, giving his team a chance to squeak across a run and lay claim to victory in one of the most exciting World Series ever played.
By several measures, Morris’ epic game 7 stands out among all other sudden death games. Not only was the right hander the only pitcher to complete 10 innings under the pressure of a winner-take-all scenario, but he also recorded the highest WPA and second highest game score (a mark of 84 bettered only by Sandy Koufax’ 2-0 victory over the Twins in the 1965 World Series). In some people’s mind, on the basis of that game alone, Morris is deserving of enshrinement in the Hall of Fame. Although that point is debatable, what can’t be doubted is the inedible place Jack Morris holds in baseball’s long postseason history.
Top-10 Sudden Death Games by a Pitcher, Ranked by WPA
Source: Baseball-reference.com
For some, sudden death is about more than one moment. Legendary players like Mickey Mantle, Reggie Jackson, Yogi Berra, and Derek Jeter have all had several opportunities to play in October finales, and usually done quite well. However, all of those immortals still take a back seat to a very unlikely legend of the Fall.
Tony Womack’s career OPS+ of 72 is one of the lowest in baseball history among players with a similar number of at bats. At .212/.250/.276, his entire postseason record isn’t much better. And yet, despite his overall futility, the speedy Womack maintains the highest cumulative WPA among all hitters in sudden death games. Even though Luis Gonzalez’ blooper over a drawn-in infield is most often replayed, it was Womack’s game tying double off Mariano Rivera that defined the Diamondbacks’ clinching rally. Considering the relative ability of the two participants, Womack’s hit off Rivera could be the most improbable outcome in postseason history.
Top-10 “Clutch” Offensive Performers in Sudden Death, Ranked by Cumulative WPA
Source: Baseball-reference.com
Although WPA does a good job highlighting the most significant events during a game, it can obscure overall performance by penalizing a player for limiting his leverage by contributing earlier in the game. Using OPS as a barometer, the list of top performers in winner-take-all games looks much more reassuring. Led by Jason Giambi, this group includes several names often associated with clutch performances, which is probably how they earned their reputations in the first place.
Top-10 Offensive Performers in Sudden Death, Ranked by Cumulative OPS
Note: Minimum of 15 plate appearances.
Source: Baseball-reference.com
As previously mentioned, Jack Morris’ only foray into October sudden death was epic. Based on those 10 innings alone, the Twins’ right hander has the highest winner-take-all WPA among pitchers. Not surprisingly, Morris’ mound opponent that game, John Smoltz, ranks third. In three starts and one relief appearance, Smoltz compiled a WPA of .705 and miniscule ERA of .740 in 24 1/3 innings. Only Bob Gibson (2-1 in three games and 27 innings) and Roger Clemens (1-1 in five games and 26 2/3 innings) logged more face time in these crucial games, but their respective ERAs of 3.67 and 4.05 pale in comparison to Smoltz’ stinginess.
Top-10 “Clutch” Pitchers in Sudden Death, Ranked by Cumulative WPA
Source: Baseball-reference.com
As any red blooded player will tell you, individual performance always takes a back seat to the outcome of the game. Devon White probably doesn’t lose much sleep over his 0-6 in the seventh game of the 1997 World Series because the Marlins won the World Series anyway. Similarly, Jim Thome likely doesn’t take much pride in being one of only six players to hit two home runs in a sudden death game because his Indians lost the 1999 ALDS to the Red Sox. That’s why it’s always better to have a ring than a record in October.
No team has won, and lost, more winner-take-all games than the Yankees, who have gone 11-10 in deciding postseason games. Fans of the Bronx Bombers might be happy to know that the Tigers are 2-4. If Cardinals’ fans are looking for a good omen heading into tomorrow’s game 5 NLDS showdown with the Phillies, their team has gone 10-5 when push has come to shove. The Diamondbacks have also had some success in sudden death, winning both times they appeared in such a game, but this time around they won’t have Tony Womack to save the day.
Team Records in Sudden Death Games, By Series
Source: Baseball-reference.com
With three sudden death games on tap, it’s likely that some new postseason heroes, and perhaps a few goats, will be born. However, the real winner is major league baseball, which, fresh off a historic regular season end, seems poised for an epic postseason. Over the next two days. it’ll be winner take all, and six team are going all-in.
Top Notch
The Best American Sports Writing 2011 is out. Good news for us. This year’s edition of BASW is edited by Jane Leavy and features excellent work from the likes of S.L. Price, Sally Jenkins, Wright Thompson, Nancy Hass, Chris Jones, and Paul Solotraoff.
Here’s a sample of one of the best stories in the collection, a bonus piece by Mark Kram Jr. for the Philly Daily News:
CHICAGO – Quietly, Sonia Rodriguez got out of bed and padded into the other room, where the evening before she had laid out her clothes for work. It was Wednesday, 6:30 a.m., and her husband Paco was still asleep, the gray light of a cold Chicago dawn beginning to seep through the windows of the small house that the couple and their baby daughter shared with his parents. Sonia slipped into the outfit that she had picked out, brushed her hair and stopped back in the bedroom to look in on Ginette, who slept in the crib that was wedged against the wall. Sweeping up her purse, she glanced over at Paco and told herself she would phone him when he arrived later that day in Philadelphia. But as she stepped out the door he called to her.
“Oh?” he said, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Are you leaving?”
She looked over her shoulder and said softly, “Yeah.”
“Come here,” Paco told her. Sonia walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached up, drew her into his arms and said, “I want to say goodbye.”
Goodbyes were not easy for them. In the 5 years they had been together, they seldom had been apart. Even when they were still dating, he would stop by and see her at the end of the day, if only for an hour or so just to talk. But Sonia had not chosen to accompany her 25-year-old husband to Philadelphia, where that Friday evening Paco had a 12-round bout scheduled at the Blue Horizon with Teon Kennedy for the vacant United States Boxing Association super bantamweight crown. Boxing had become a sport that Sonia looked upon with equal portions of acceptance and disdain. She accepted it because of the passion Paco had for it, and even now says that boxing was who he was. And yet part of her held it in disdain and she had stopped attending his bouts because of it, unable to cope with the queasiness that would send her fleeing from her ringside seat whenever Paco would engage an opponent in a toe-to-toe exchange. So when he asked her if she would like to come along to Philadelphia, he was not surprised when she smiled and told him, “No, you go. But hurry back to me.” And he told her he would, adding as always, “I promise you.”
And here’s a bit from Howard Bryant’s profile of Dusty Baker:
CINCINNATI — “Light a candle,” Dusty Baker says, his lone voice softly skimming the looming silence of the empty church. “I’m sure there’s someone out there you want to pray for.”
He lights a candle, points the flickering matchstick downward in his large hands, the athlete’s hands, dousing it into the cool sand. It is here in the solitude of St. Peter in Chains Cathedral — funded by Ohio Catholics who donated 12 cents per month toward its construction in 1841 — where Johnnie B. Baker, born Baptist in California, raised in the traditions of the southern black church, kneels alone among the long pews and nourishes his spirituality.
After several moments of prayer, he rises and walks gingerly toward the altar, marveling at the Greek architecture, the Corinthian columns and stained glass mosaics, comforted, despite its bruises, by the sanctuary and the ritual of the church.
“I come in here before homestands, sometimes a couple of times a week during the season,” said Baker. “I pray for my family, for my team, and for Barack Obama, because I’ve never seen people try to take a president down like this, never seen such anger. I mean, what did he do to anybody?”
And from Gentling Cheatgrass, by Sterry Butcher in Texas Monthly:
THE MUSTANG HAS eyes that are large and dark and betray his mood. His coat is bright bay, which is to say he’s a rich red, with black running down his knees and hocks. He has a white star the size of a silver dollar on his forehead and a freeze mark on his neck. He cranks his head high as a rider approaches, shaking out a rope from a large gray gelding. The mustang does not know what is to come. His name is Cheatgrass, and he’s six years old. In May he was as wild as a songbird.
The little horse belongs to Teryn Lee Muench, a 27-year-old son of the Big Bend who grew up in Brewster and Presidio counties. Teryn Lee is tall, blue-eyed, and long-limbed. He wears his shirts buttoned all the way to the neck and custom spurs that bear his name. He never rolls up his sleeves. A turkey feather is jammed in his hatband, and he’s prone to saying things like “I was out yesterday and it came a downpour,” or, speaking of a hardheaded horse, “He’s a sorry, counterfeit son of a gun.” Horse training is the only job he has ever had.
Teryn Lee was among 130 people who signed up this spring for the Supreme Extreme Mustang Makeover, a contest in which trainers are given one hundred days to take feral horses from the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), gentle these creatures, and teach them to accept grooming, leading, saddling, and riding. Don’t let the silliness of the contest’s name distract from the difficulty of the challenge. Domestic horses can be taught to walk, trot, and lope under saddle in one hundred days; it’s called being green-broke. But domestic horses are usually familiar with people. The mustangs in the Makeover have lived on the range for years without human interaction, surviving drought, brutal winters, and trolling mountain lions. The only connection they have to people is fear. Age presents another challenge. A domestic horse is broke to saddle at about age two, when it’s a gawky teenager. The contest mustangs are opinionated and mature. The culmination of the contest is a two-day event in Fort Worth in August, where the horses are judged on their level of training and responsiveness. The top twenty teams make the finals. The winner takes home $50,000.
For Teryn Lee, however, there’s more at stake than money. Most of his clients bring him horses that buck or bully, horses that have developed bad habits that stymie or even frighten their owners. Teryn Lee enjoys this work, but his goal is to become a well-known trainer and clinician who rides in top reined cow horse and cutting horse competitions. To step up to that level, he’ll have to do something dramatic. Transforming a scruffy, feral mustang that no one wanted into a handsome, gentle, willing riding horse would make people take notice. Winning would get his name out there, he says.
The Best American Sports Writing 2011 can be bought here.
[Featured image photo credit via My Modern Met]
Beat of the Day
It’s a Super Nova…
And the Pete Rock remix.
New York Minute
Walk down into the subway, pay a small fee, and the city can be yours. If the city is big enough, and the subway thorough enough, there’s no better way to get around. No other mode of transportation can bestow the access and the sense of accomplishment. Getting in a cab can get you most places, but there’s more chance of getting stuck in bad traffic in a busy city than there is of having a problem on the train. And walking is wonderful, but can’t take as far as you’d often like to go.
I realized this as I took the subway in Japan last Friday night over to the Tokyo Dome to see the Giants play. The ride was simple and short. Only one transfer and less than twenty minutes. But bounding up the steps of the Korakuen station and onto the exterior concourse of the Dome, I felt so happy. And in there was a little pride I think, too. I almost let a little, “I did it,” escape, but I stopped it at the top of my throat.
At first I was embarrassed to be proud of such a simple thing as a subway ride. But I’ve always had trouble confronting tasks with which I have no experience and no guide. I started thinking more and more about what it means. The access, the freedom, the speed.
And just like that, the city was mine.
Drum Roll, Please…
In just less than 12 hours the Yanks and Tigers will begin Game Five of the ALDS. It is colder in Manhattan today than it’s been all week. October is here.
Man, it sure would be nice if the Yanks keep their season going. I figure Swisher and Teixeira to be the heroes tonight if the Bombers win. But count me as concerned, very concerned, about Doug Fister. And not as sure as other folks in Ivan Nova.
Nerves aside…tonight will be here soon enough, won’t it? Won’t it?
[Photo Credit: Adria Canameras]
End of the Line?
The Phillies and Brewers can advance tonight with wins. The Cards and D Backs look to force a deciding game.
Open thread, guys.
Let’s Go Base-Ball!
[Photo Credit: Kevin Dooley]
"This ain't football. We do this every day."
--Earl Weaver
--Earl Weaver