"A New York Treasure" --Village Voice

Monthly Archives: July 2012

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Say Again?

I leave the Internet for a few hours and the Yanks trade for Ichiro. Hey Now.

Sure, he’s not a great player anymore, he’s probably not even that good, but he’s headed for the Hall of Fame and he gives the Yanks a quality outfield now, doesn’t he? Dwayne Wise, who played well as a back-up, has been designated assignment.

Oh, and Ichiro will be in the lineup tonight against the Mariners in Seattle.

Whoa.

Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Robinson Cano 2B
Mark Teixeira 1B
Raul Ibanez DH
Andruw Jones LF
Ichiro Suzuki RF
Russell Martin C

Never mind the fireworks: Let’s Go Yank-ees!

Everyone’s a Crrrrrrrritic

Via Kottke check out this bit of Mile Davisness over at Noise Made Me Do It.

The Man

 

David Remnick has a long profile on Bruce Springsteen in the New Yorker:

Early this year, Springsteen was leading rehearsals for a world tour at Fort Monmouth, an Army base that was shut down last year; it had been an outpost since the First World War of military communications and intelligence, and once employed Julius Rosenberg and thousands of militarized carrier pigeons. The twelve-hundred-acre property is now a ghost town inhabited only by steel dummies meant to scare off the ubiquitous Canada geese that squirt a carpet of green across middle Jersey. Driving to the far end of the base, I reached an unlovely theatre that Springsteen and Jon Landau, his longtime manager, had rented for the rehearsals. Springsteen had performed for officers’ children at the
Fort Monmouth “teen club” (dancing, no liquor) with the Castiles, forty-seven years earlier.

The atmosphere inside was purposeful but easygoing. Musicians stood onstage noodling on their instruments with the languid air of outfielders warming up in the sun. Max Weinberg, the band’s volcanic drummer, wore the sort of generous jeans favored by dads at weekend barbecues. Steve Van Zandt, Springsteen’s childhood friend and guitarist-wingman, keeps up a brutal schedule as an actor and a d.j., and he seemed weary, his eyes drooping under a piratical purple head scarf. The bass player Garry Tal-lent, the organist Charlie Giordano, and the pianist Roy Bittan horsed around on a roller-rink tune while they waited. The guitarist Nils Lofgren was on the phone, trying to figure out flights to get back to his home, in Scottsdale, for the weekend.

Springsteen arrived and greeted everyone with a quick hello and his distinctive cackle. He is five-nine and walks with a rolling rodeo gait. When he takes in something new—a visitor, a thought, a passing car in the distance—his eyes narrow, as if in hard light, and his lower jaw protrudes a bit. His hairline is receding, and, if one had to guess, he has, over the years, in the face of high-def scrutiny and the fight against time, enjoined the expensive attentions of cosmetic and dental practitioners. He remains dispiritingly handsome, preposterously fit. (“He has practically the same waist size as when I met him, when we were fifteen,” says Steve Van Zandt, who does not.) Some of this has to do with his abstemious inclinations; Van Zandt says Springsteen is “the only guy I know—I think the only guy I know at all—who never did drugs.” He’s followed more or less the same exercise regimen for thirty years: he runs on a treadmill and, with a trainer, works out with weights. It has paid off. His muscle tone approximates a fresh tennis ball. And yet, with the tour a month away, he laughed at the idea that he was ready. “I’m not remotely close,” he said, slumping into a chair twenty rows back from the stage.

 

Beat of the Day

He don’t celebrate Sunday on a Saturday night no more…

[Photo Credit: Summer Sun Goddess-s]

Morning Art

“Portrait of Lunia Czechowska,” By Amedeo Modigliani (1919)

Taster’s Cherce

Jelly or Boston Creme? Which one of dese?

[Photo Credit: Nom-Food]

You Had Your Chance (And You Bleeeew It…)

I missed the whole damn thing. Nothing but checked the score. I saw that the Yanks had a 4-0 lead, know that Rafael Soriano blew the save in the ninth and that scoring opportunities were squandered in the tenth and twelfth, and I know that the A’s won again.

Final Score: A’s 5, Yanks 4.

David Waldstein has the unsavory details.

That gives the home team a four-game sweep. The A’s won each game by one run and this is undoubtedly the high pernt of their season. Good for them. And lousy for the Yanks, a team that came into the weekend playing well and got their asses handed to them.

“You just can’t predict baseball,” as John likes to tell Suzyn.

Motherfuck it all.

Not the end of the world, of course, but this isn’t the sort of thing that’d make any fan pleased let alone this short-tempered Yankee fan.

Grrrfugginumble.

Pick it Up

On Hall of Fame Sunday, the Yanks turn to their ace, C.C. Sabathia, to make things right.

No Jetes…

Curtis Granderson CF
Mark Teixeira 1B
Robinson Cano 2B
Alex Rodriguez DH
Raul Ibanez LF
Eric Chavez 3B
Jayson Nix SS
Dewayne Wise RF
Chris Stewart C

Never mind the heat: Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Photo Credit: Bob Langer/Chicago Daily News via It’s a Long Season]

Sundazed Soul

Ya buggin’.

[Photo Credit: Zachary Schwaller]

Missed it by This Much

Notice a pattern here? The Yanks lost another well-pitich, one-run game last night, this time 2-1. It’s their third straight loss in Oakland.

Okay, so that’s the frustrating part. Three losses. But good starting pitching, man. Really good. Sometimes, these things happen. Bartolo Colon goes for the A’s today–against the local boy, C.C. Sabathia–so we won’t dwell on what happened last night cause the Yanks will win today.

[Photo Credit: Kevin Cooley]

That’s Enough, Already

 

Two game losing streak? Nothing to worry about. But enough. Time for a win, ya hoid?

Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Robinson Cano 2B
Mark Teixeira 1B
Raul Ibanez LF
Eric Chavez DH
Russell Martin C
Dewayne Wise RF

Never mind the late night–and the game starts at 9 eastern, so it won’t run too late: Let’s Go Yank-ees!

Saturdazed Soul

Lazy Saturday…

[Photo Via: Mr. A’s Bazaar]

Game 1: Dogs; Game 2: Dog Pile

One streak died on Friday night in Oakland, another survived, but more important to the overall picture, a losing streak was born.

When last the Yankees visited Oakland, they thumped the A’s in three straight games, and I spent a lot of time making fun of them in the one recap I wrote, comparing them to a minor league team as I shamelessly listed Oakland batting averages from one to nine, laughing all the way.

Things are different now. (For one thing, Yoenis Cespedes was on the disabled list during that series back in May. He’s been healthy and punishing Yankee pitching during this series, but more on him later.)

Early in the game a preposterous graphic popped up beneath Yankee starter Iván Nova. According to said graphic, not only did Nova lead the league in extra base hits allowed, he apparently led by a wide margin — 61 extras compared to the second place hurler who had only surrendered 49.

I was so baffled by this, that I spoke aloud to the television. “That can’t possibly be true.”

And here’s where things got a bit strange. Nova paused during his warm-ups, waited for the camera to zoom tight, then, as if he were Woody Allen or Ferris Bueller, he turned and looked directly into the camera… and answered me. Surely you noticed it, too.

“You don’t think I can give up extra base hits?” he asked. “Just watch me.”

With two outs in the first, he gave up a double to Josh Reddick, but recovered to escape the inning without allowing a run. In the third, there was a leadoff triple yielded to Coco Crisp, who scored the game’s first run on a Jemile Weeks sacrifice fly. The fourth inning opened with a Brandon Moss double, followed by a Brandon Inge double (Double Brandon doubles?) to double the lead to two.

Guess what happened in the fifth? Another leadoff double, this time to Reddick, but Nova survived that inning without allowing a run. He wouldn’t, however, survive the seventh, leaving after two outs with a deceptive line: only two runs allowed, but nine hits — five for extra bases.

Even so, Nova’s night would’ve been good enough for a win in any of the previous forty-three games, but on Friday night the fearsome Tommy “May Day” Milone was on the hill for the A’s, and the Yanks never got a sniff against him. He cruised through the first three innings, allowing just a harmless single to Curtis Granderson in the first.

Only twice in Milone’s seven innings were the Yankees able to put two runners on in an inning. The first instance was in the fourth, but it lasted only about ten seconds. Mark Teixeira singled with one out, and when Alex Rodríguez followed immediately with a soft single to right, third base coach Robby Thompson inexplicably started windmilling Teixeira around second and into third. To everyone in the stadium, aside from Thompson, I suppose, the outcome was never in doubt. The ball arrived two strides before Teixeira did, and the rally was dead.

Milone struck out the side in the fifth, then found a bit of trouble in the sixth. Derek Jeter reached on an infield single with one out, and one out later Teixeira moved him to second on a single of his own. A-Rod came up with an opportunity to change this recap, but instead he bounced into a fielder’s choice to third.

Millone did yield a somewhat questionable single to Robinson Canó leading off the seventh, but he set down the next three hitters — the last two on strikes — to finish off his night.

How good was Milone? He had been pitching well over his previous five starts, but nothing like this. Seven innings, six hits, ten strikeouts, and nothing else. I’m sure you remember the last time an Athletics pitcher struck out ten or more Yankees without allowing a run. It was ninety-nine years ago when Eddie Plank turned the trick.

And so it all came down to the ninth inning with the Yankees trailing 2-1. (Russell Martin had homered in the eighth.) When Canó validated his twenty-three-game hitting streak by leading off with a line drive that barely cleared the wall in left field to tie the score at two, everything seemed possible. There was life in the dugout, and suddenly it looked like the Yankees might steal a win in Oakland… I’ll give you a second to recover after reading that last phrase… and in doing so they’d extend that other quirky streak.

As the game rolled over to the bottom of the ninth, I convinced myself that it would happen. I should’ve known better, and the YES producers quickly reminded me by sliding one cold-water graphic after another up on the screen. First there was this: The Yankees are 0-30 and the only major league team without a win after trailing in the ninth inning or later. Next: The Oakland A’s have 9 walk-off wins, most in the major leagues.

Josh Reddick struck out swinging, but the rest of the night went like this: single, single, single, dog pile. (Cespedes, Jonny Gomes, and Brandon Moss, if you must know.) A’s 3, Yankees 2.

A new streak starts tomorrow.

[Photo Credit: Ben Margot/AP Photo]

Back at It

Ivan Nova looks to rebound from a cruddy outing last Sunday against the Angels.

Late night action with the welcome announcing team of Ken Singleton and David Cone.

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

Never mind the west coast weirdness: Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Photo Credit: Joel Zimmer]

Million Dollar Movie

 

This is a lousy-looking clip but the movie, Visions of Light: The Art of Cinematography, is something you must see.

You Could Look it Up

 

Our pal Mark Lamster on the New York Public Library:

Sometime last year, the New York Public Library (NYPL) retired its pneumatic-tube system, which had been used to request books for more than a century. This change was made without ceremony or fanfare; I learned of it unexpectedly, when I walked into the catalog room prepared to deliver a call slip to a clerk behind a large wooden desk, only to find a notice directing me elsewhere. For a few moments, I stood there, unmoored, before moving along as instructed. That pneumatic call system had changed little since the library’s open-ing in 1911. You still filled out a slip, and you still turned that slip over to a clerk, who would load it into a metal cartridge. With a slurpy shoomp, the cartridge would be driven by air pressure to a station down in the stacks, where another clerk would retrieve your book, which was then sent back up to the call desk by a dumbwaiter. In recent years, this procedure would take about 20 minutes. In decades past, I’m told, it was closer to five.

The passing of a steampunk relic might occasion a fit of nostalgia and no more—in New York, the cycle of life is accelerated, which is perhaps why we are so attentive to our history—but in this case, something greater seemed to be at stake. One could hardly contrive a more blatant metaphor for the uneasy shift, in the world of letters, from the physical to the digital. The very future of the book, and the printed word in general, is uncertain. We’re at a moment of profound change in the way we consume information, and that change is shaping the kinds of information we value. It is also shaping the spaces in which we consume information. How does one even begin to think about designing libraries in a time of rapidly developing technologies and shifting programs?

[Photo Credit: Cat’s Eye View @ MLP]

Grounded

Such a drag about Brett Gardner. Not a surprise but a bummer for sure.

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"This ain't football. We do this every day."
--Earl Weaver