Houston Street after dark by Bags.

Bags goes to the Modern:

Peep this fun site, The Monkeys You Ordered (and thanks go to Brad for pointing it out):

Our dog is f****** huge.

Tonight at the Walter Reade Theater, a slept-on Jeff Bridges vehicle featuring John Huston:

I can’t make it, dang it, but man, it should be a good time.

Brian Cashman’s behavior in recent weeks has some wondering if he’s auditioning for a role in a remake of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. How else to explain Cashman’s decision to throw dirt on the signing of Rafael Soriano at his Yankee Stadium press conference? It’s one thing to be honest in answering reporters questions; it’s quite another to submarine one of your newest players, a pitcher who will be extremely important to Yankee fortunes in the late innings.

And then, as if we needed more evidence of Cashman cracking under the stress, we learn that earlier this winter he actually offered Carl Pavano a one-year contract worth $10 million. After misappropriating nearly $40 million of Yankee funds on Pavano, a man who clearly had little interest in actually working (or playing) for his money, Cashman apparently felt obligated to pad Pavano’s wallet again. Either Cashman knows nothing about pitching, as his critics have maintained for years, or he knows nothing about the lack of character of certain players. Can you imagine the reaction of the New York media, not to mention Yankee fans, to the news of Carl Pavano returning to the Bronx? That would have gone over about as well as the news of Pete Rose opening up an OTB parlor next to the Hall of Fame.

So what exactly is going on with Cashman? Is he, as some conspiracy theorists maintain, greasing the skids for his own departure at the end of 2011, when his contract expires? I guess that’s as good an explanation as any, but it does little to assuage Yankee fans who are concerned about what happens over the next ten months. The Yankees still have work to do. They will need to address the issue of starting pitching at some point. They will have to decide whether to surrender Jesus Montero in any deal for a frontline starter. And they will have to make the decision of whether to trade Joba Chamberlain now, move him back to the rotation, or let him settle into an inglorious role as a sixth- or seventh-inning relief pitcher. These decisions cannot wait for Cashman’s successor; they need to be settled before or during the upcoming season.

Given some of the statements coming from Cashman of late, I’m not sure if any of these issues will be resolved properly. If that’s the case, then perhaps it will soon be time to start thinking about who will be Cashman’s successor…

***

If there’s a positive development to come out of this strange postseason, it’s this: the inability to reel in Cliff Lee has forced the organization to address other, less publicized needs, like the catching, the bullpen, and the bench. The Yankees have had plenty of money to spend on these areas, which has resulted in the net gain of Russell Martin, Rafael Soriano and Pedro Feliciano, and now Andruw Jones.

As I wrote in this space a month ago, the addition of Jones, 33, made so much sense that I thought it would never happen, and yet it did! Jones put up an OPS of .931 against left-handers last season; similar numbers should play nicely on a team that is overloaded with southpaw swinging outfielders. On any given day, Jones can spell Brett Gardner in left, Curtis Granderson in center field, or even Jorge Posada at DH. With Jones batting seventh or eighth against left-handers, the Yankees should have good balance toward the bottom of their batting order.

Defensively, Jones is not nearly the all-world center fielder he was with the Braves, but still has enough speed and arm to spell Granderson, while spending more significant amounts of time in the corners. Jones is far from the defensive liability that Marcus Thames was; as long as the Yankees don’t ask him to play the field every day, he should hold up fine in the outer pasture.

I also like Jones’ degree of postseason experience. He has played in 17 postseason series (all dating back to his days with the Braves), where he has accumulated ten home runs in 238 at-bats and reached base 36 per cent of the time. Clearly, the postseason has not fazed Jones, an important consideration for a Yankee team that has missed the playoffs only once since 1995.

For those keeping score, Jones is the first native of Curacao to play for the Yankees since Hensley “Bam Bam” Meulens in 1993. At one time a top-notch prospect in the Yankee system, Meulens never found the plate discipline that he needed to become the star the franchise had once envisioned. (He also didn’t have a position; he was too stiff to play third base, and lacked the athleticism needed to play the outfield.) But Bam Bam has found success in his second baseball life, as the batting coach of the defending champion San Francisco Giants. Giants players rave about Meulens, who coaxed a career season out of Aubrey Huff and oversaw the hitting of Rookie of the Year Buster Posey. Bam Bam’s next big project will be finding a way to fine-tune the swing of Pablo Sandoval, while also keeping him separated from the buffet table.

Bruce Markusen writes “Cooperstown Confidential” for The Hardball Times.

Bowie Friday:

More Snow.

The beat goes on.

The great Charles Addams:

According to Jon Heyman, Andruw Jones is now a memeber of the New York Yankees.

[Photo Credit: FLC]

I went to Fatty Crab for the first time last week. My brother and I hit the Upper West Side version and we really enjoyed the food. But our waiter was overbearing–sell!, sell!, sell!–and the food was not cheap.

Then, a few nights ago, I had dinner at  Lotus of Siam, the new Thai place on 5th Avenue just off 9th Street. I went with a pal and we arrived early, at 6:00. The host snarled when we told him that we didn’t have a reservation.

“Did that guy just snarl at us?” I said to my friend. “The dining room is half-empty and he”

It was a chilly way to start the evening. Then our waitress…oh, the waitress. “She’s young,” my pal said. I tried to sympathize even though she was either overwhelmed or simply not especially interested in her job. But at $26 an entree, man, I want the service to be welcoming, informative, at least competent. I can deal with rude, like if an old Jewish waiter spills soup on you and then balls you out, but aloof, I can’t abide.

The food was yummy but the portions were small and it was not cheap. Worst of all, I didn’t leave the place feeling happy. I left longing for SriPraPhai in Queens, for a place where the food is great, the prices reasonable and the atmosphere something less than smug.

From our man in Japan, MrOkJazzToyko:

Dig this piece on J.D. Salinger, “Holden Caulfield’s Goddamn War” over at Vanity Fair (taken from Kenneth Slawenski’s new book on Salinger):  

In the autumn of 1950, at his home in Westport, Connecticut, J. D. Salinger completed The Catcher in the Rye. The achievement was a catharsis. It was confession, purging, prayer, and enlightenment, in a voice so distinct that it would alter American culture.

Holden Caulfield, and the pages that held him, had been the author’s constant companion for most of his adult life. Those pages, the first of them written in his mid-20s, just before he shipped off to Europe as an army sergeant, were so precious to Salinger that he carried them on his person throughout the Second World War. Pages of The Catcher in the Rye had stormed the beach at Normandy; they had paraded down the streets of Paris, been present at the deaths of countless soldiers in countless places, and been carried through the concentration camps of Nazi Germany. In bits and pieces they had been re-written, put aside, and re-written again, the nature of the story changing as the author himself was changed. Now, in Connecticut, Salinger placed the final line on the final chapter of the book. It is with Salinger’s experience of the Second World War in mind that we should understand Holden Caulfield’s insight at the Central Park carousel, and the parting words of The Catcher in the Rye: “Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.” All the dead soldiers.

[Picture by Lorna Burt]

Here’s the latest Yankee news from Lo-Hud, MLB Trade Rumors and Hardball Talk. Brian Cashman is at the center of it all–is he a straight-up honest guy, has be botched another off-season, is he effective, is he on a short leash? Which one of these?

A few years ago I had some words with an older gentleman on the subway. We beefed about space, seating, something trivial. I’d see him after that–never forgetting an enemy–and took a small degree of pleasure when I caught him arguing with other passengers. I hadn’t seen him in a few years but last night he got on the train at 168th street. He looked thinner and older and he smelled. I heard him say something but couldn’t make out the words. A few people stood up and let him sit. He was a sad sight and I felt that I’d been petty, not in having an exchange with him one time, but for holding a grudge.

Happen to walk past the Cinema Village last night…haven’t been inside in years but I do remember seeing “She’s Gotta Have it” there, jeez, almost twenty-five years ago…

R.I.P Milton Rogovin:

Click here for the NPR appreciation.

(more…)

It was surprising when the Yankees signed Rafael Soriano… mostly because Brian Cashman had been saying, pretty clearly, that he did not intend to. He explained that he didn’t want to give up a first-round draft pick for anybody besides Cliff Lee (and especially not a pick that would then go to the Rays), and that made good sense, especially since decent relievers can generally be uncovered from within the organization. Today, at the press conference officially announcing Soriano’s signing, Cashman admitted – or perhaps “confirmed” is the better word – that as many suspected (and several, including Buster Olney, previously reported) it was not ultimately his call. Per Joe LeMaire, on Twitter:

Yankees GM Brian Cashman acknowledges he did not recommend signing of Soriano. Says final call was Hal Steinbrenner’s.

Cashman: “I just didn’t think it was an efficient way to allocate our remaining resources.”

Huh.

That’s not surprising, as the Soriano contract is very much not Cashman’s style – not, as he says, an efficient allocation of resources. But I was under the impression that Cashman had successfully wrested control of the Yankees’ baseball decision, except perhaps in the case of a blockbuster like Alex Rodriguez’s most recent signing. And while of course Hal Steinbrenner owns the team and has a right to have input on how his money is spent, I find it puzzling that he would choose to interfere here, in the case of a middle reliever. Signing Soriano is not likely to have a huge impact on the team either way – they’re overpaying for him, but not by a crippling amount, and it’s unlikely to prevent the Yankees from making whatever other moves they feel they need to. Still, it seems like a weird thing for Hal to overrule his GM on. It’s a George kind of move.

Meanwhile, in further disturbing news: we also learned that Cashman not only considered Carl Pavano as a plug for the Yanks’ starting pitcher gap, but (per LoHud) had several discussions with The American Idle’s agent. Yipes! I choose to see this as just a sad, transparent attempt to make Andy Pettitte come rushing back into the Yankees’ arms…

UPDATE: Oh gosh – per WFAN (via Hardball Talk) the Yanks actually made an offer! One year, $10 million, supposedly.  “Carl, how would you like to hear 50,000 people screaming contemptuous insults at you every fifth day…”

Mark Bittman takes on whole-grain flapjacks. Why not?

[Photo Credit: Finger Food Recipes]

…If we all pull together as a team…

Remember not too long ago when cigars were chic? Fly girls in their twenties were smokin’ ’em. Now, cigars are not cool again, so real cigar smokers are forced to gather in spots like the cigar shop near 57th street on 6th Avenue. Some crusty-lookin, but happy old-school dudes in there, man:

Over at The Baseball Analysts, Rich chronicles his recent visit with Bert Blyleven:

Bert went out of his way to accommodate me as he had hip replacement surgery in October. Believe me, he can still zing it. Not shy, I told Bert that I wanted to compare curveballs. I threw him a spinner and he mocked me. “That’s your curveball?” Hey, it was the first one I had thrown in years and only then at a family picnic. He raised his arm and hand to a 12 o’clock position and said, “You’ve got to get it up here.” As someone who had a good curve through high school, I knew I was supposed to throw the ball over the barrel and shake hands with the center fielder (a visual that worked wonders for me). Nevertheless, at age 55, my shoulder wasn’t as cooperative as it once was. Bert, who is four years older than me, broke off a couple of tight ones. Impressive indeed.

My manager, Lee Stange, asked me what position I played. I told him pitcher but said I could also play first base. He kidded, “Everyone out here is a first baseman/DH.” Lee sent me to the bullpen to warm up. He liked what he saw enough to give me the start. The first two batters hit line-drive singles. Standing just outside our dugout on the third base side, Blyleven shouted, “Hey Rich! Try to get an out, why don’t you!” I smiled at him, took a deep breath, and got back to the task at hand. The next batter hit a slow roller to my right. I was thinking two but, then again, I thought I was 30-something rather than 50-something. My brain made the play with no problem, but my body failed me. The ball passed me and the shortstop had no play. A couple of runs later and Bert was now needling me again. “You’ve got an 18.00 ERA!” It was actually higher at that moment in time because I had not yet completed the inning. Thankfully, I did with no further damage.

[Photo Credit: Brian Hirten/Ft. Myers News-Press]