My favorite part about sitting in the Yankee Stadium press box is getting the chance to watch Bill Shannon, the official scorer, in action. Shannon, who for years was the head of public relations at MSG, was ripped out of the pages of Damon Runyon. He sounded like Will Ferrell doing Harry Carey and looked as if he’d been drawn by Walt Kelly. He was a bona fide gem.

I was shocked and saddened to learn that Shannon died in a house fire. According to an AP report:

William Shannon was unable to escape the flames that consumed the West Caldwell home where he lived with his elderly mother Tuesday.

Neighbors tell News 12-New Jersey they were able to rescue the mother through the front door.

One neighbor placed a ladder up to the second floor to reach Shannon. But a neighbor says the 69-year-old told them he couldn’t break the window and he disappeared into the thick smoke.

What a horrible twist of fate. I spoke to Shannon a few times but didn’t know him. I hope that the New York papers are filled with stories over the coming days.

At least Mr. Sheppard has good company.

There’s nothing as helpless as watching. The great American Male neurosis–though it isn’t restricted to men–is believing that if you sit in the same position on the couch or wear your lucky jersey you have the power to alter the outcome of a ball game.

Television doesn’t help. Watch enough games on TV and you’ll probably find yourself saying–or thinking–I could have caught that ball, I could have hit that pitch. It’s a natural reaction. It also happens to be horses***.

When Carlos Beltran struck-out looking to end the 2006 NLCS, fans wailed–How could he not swing? I heard a couple of Yankee fans say the same thing about Alex Rodriguez’s final at bat on Friday night (would it have been better if, completely fooled, he waved at the pitch like Derek Jeter did when the Yankee captain whiffed to end the eighth inning?). And this morning, I read a newspaper article where the writer said that Ryan Howard had to go down swinging when he too ended the game looking at a devastating breaking ball on Saturday night.

Can you imagine how difficult it is to adjust from a mid-90s fastball to a perfectly placed breaking ball? Even if you are a professional hitter?

You’ve got to swing at that pitch!

It might be frustrating to watch but how about giving credit to the pitcher?

Baseball is hard. Being an expert is easy.

It’s Wait ‘Til Next Year for the Yanks.

They were a good team in 2010, but they didn’t play well down the stretch and got hammered by the Rangers in the 2010 ALCS.

Were they too old? Did they play tight–a reflection of their manager according to Joel Sherman? Did they just not have heart or character or those championship intangibles?

Nah, they just got their asses kicked, that’s all. Happens, man, even to the best of them.

Well, go figure that. It’s gunna be the San Francisco Giants against the Texas Rangers for all the marbles as 2010 becomes the year of the unexpected.

Say, Hey!

[Photo Credit: Doug Pensinger/Getty Images]

Is it 8 o’clock yet? Long and coherent doesn’t seem to be happening today, so instead, here’s some scattered thoughts from a scattered mind.

*You guys been watching the NLCS? Some excellent games, and I’ve gone from rooting for the Giants because they aren’t the Phillies to genuinely liking them. Lincecum, Kung Fu Panda, Buster Posey, even Brian Wilson who is douchey but at least in an entertaining way. The entire series makes me wish the Yankees would ditch their uptight facial hair regulations already, though. Everything is more fun with beards!

*There’s plenty of time to think about this later and it’s not a surprise anyway, but according to Jon Heyman, the Yanks plan to bring back Joe Girardi. I’m okay with this. Girardi has definitely made his share of mistakes this postseason, but so has every manager. I don’t think there’s been anything fireable. He won the World Series last year and made the ALCS this year (…as of this writing), and although the ghost of George Streinbrenner would disagree, to me, you don’t fire a guy coming off that kind of success unless he does something really crazy/egregious/criminal. Despite what I might end up yelling at the TV during the 8th inning tonight, I think Joe’s been solid.

I wish he’d eat something though. Dude looks gaunt.

*Via LoHud, Robbie Cano hopes Melky Cabrera can rejoin the Yanks next year. I… don’t hope that, but I still have warm feelings for the Melkman and I hope he lands on his feet. He was fun to watch for a while, had some big plays and big hits for the Yanks over the years (remember that catch on a would-be Manny Ramirez homer  just over the left field wall? I do, and I bet Manny does), and I think he could still help some team, at least from the bench.

*It’s easy to overlook in the heat of a white-knuckle eighth-inning playoff relief appearance, but Kerry Wood’s got a pretty great story. Tragic, redemptive, all that stuff.

*It is genuinely kinda depressing how many fans left Yankee Stadium early in Games 3 and 4. I mean, in the ninth of a blowout, I get it. But while it’s still close? In the ALCS? I don’t generally go the fan-police route: I stay til the better end because I’m an obsessive and hate the idea of missing anything — but it’s supposed to be fun, and if you need to leave for work or school or sleep or whatever, you do what you have to do. But the streams of people fleeing before the end warlier this week were pretty embarassing. It’s easy enough for most of the country to hate Yankee fans, no need to load the gun for them.

*Nick Swisher, according to ESPN NY: “If one more guy asks me about Cliff Lee, I’m gonna punch him right in the (bleeping) mouth.” Heh.

Here’s hoping the baseball goes well enough tonight to get us baseball tomorrow night, and cause for Swisher to spaz out some more.

Hard to imagine the Giants beating Roy Halladay twice–and to go to the Whirled Serious? Just don’t see it. But then again, they’ve got the Freak on their side so it’s not out of the question by any stretch. Anything can happen and often does.

I’ll be listening on the radio because I’ve got Cablevision and Fox is blocked-out.

Let’s Go Base-ball.

Straight out the Bay Area…

Phils vs. Giants, Game Three of the NLCS.

Enjoy.

The Braves have released Melky Cabrera.

From a John Lardner column for Newsweek, “The World’s Richest Problem Child”:

The St. Louis Browns have hired a professional pyschologist for the spring training season to currycomb their inferiority complex. The Boston Red Sox, on the other hand, have chosen a simpler way of treating their own pyschological problem, who goes by the name of Theodore S. Williams.

I am taking the word of certain experts for it that Williams has, or is, a psychological problem. Around the American League the pitchers tell you that if anything is wrong with Williams, they can only pray that it’s not catching. Give three or four other batsmen Theodore’s disease and the pitching profession will be totally wrecked.

However, as I say, many students of human mentality (most of them play the same instrument that I do, the typewriter, and have learned psychology by close observation of the bartender at the water hole around the corner from the office) have been saying for years that Mr. Williams has a complex. They watch him with honest pity as he gropes his way through the shadowland between .340 and .406. They agree with a sigh that he is the strongest left-hand-hitting neurotic they have ever seen.

A few weeks ago Thomas A. Yawkey, the Red Sox owner, took cognizance of Ted’s condition and tried the cure I spoke of above. It is a form of shock treatment. The subject is pelted softly but firmly with handfuls of green banknotes in large denominations. The size of the dose varies with the individual. Mr. Yawkey might still be showering his patient with engravings of General Grant had not Williams, rising from the couch when the total reached $125,000, remarked, by way of small talk, that he was satisfied.

The fifth and deciding game of the ALDS between the Rangers and the Rays features a fantastic match-up of left-handed twirlers. In fact, it’s been raining lefties in the ALDS, with four Cy Young candidates showing off their stuff. CC Sabathia and Francisco Liriano faced off in the Yankee-Twin opener, and Cliff Lee and David Price go at each other for the second time tonight. Throw in the fine performances of Andy Pettitte and CJ Wilson and left-handed batters have not felt very comfortable since the regular season ended.

I’ll never forget my introduction to the lefty’s breaking ball. For left-handed batters, it’s a rite of passage. Mine came in the ultimate setting, the batting cages near the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY. I was eight or nine years old and I had never seen a batting cage that spit out breaking pitches. The cage with the shortest line featured a lefty slide-piece and I jumped in without a clue for what was in store.

The first round was not a happy experience – the bend was just too unsettling. The ball came directly at my front, right shoulder before succumbing to the laws of physics and dropping down and towards the plate. I realized that even though the pitches looked like they were going to hit me, they always broke down and away before impact. I just had to trust it, keep the front shoulder pointed at the machine, and wait for it.

After attention-getting success in the second round (after all this time, I can remember the special feeling of a gathering crowd behind the cage) , the baseball gods decided that this was too much, too fast. Or maybe one of the balls was just worn down too much to generate the proper spin when released from the machine. As it came hurtling toward my front shoulder, I dug in and waited for the break. It never broke. The ball just bore in and in and plowed into my lead arm. It stung badly and I watched, through tears, as the last few pitches sailed over my head. The balls whacked the backstop with that depressing thud. 

I understood something there on the ground. This was the deal you made when facing a lefty. If you want to cover that pitch, you have to give in, trust the break and accept the consequences. That’s how these pitchers keep us from hitting everything they throw. Among other dastardly things, they can move us off the plate; they can drill us in the arm.

Cliff Lee and David Price are both incredibly tough lefties, but that doesn’t mean that facing them is a similar experience. Look at their release points. David Price comes at you from the sling-shot arm slot, like a Randy Johnson-lite. The fastball and the breaking ball sweep across the left-handed batter’s box, but the fastball materializes suddenly on the hands while the breaking ball just keeps slipping down and away. Distinguishing one from the other is the difference between a difficult at bat and an impossible one.

Cliff Lee comes more over the top, which might be preferable for some lefties. But because of the expert way Lee hides the ball, and the movement he generates on all his pitches, he replaces the sweeping motion of Price with dart-gun precision and an unpredictability that the sling-shot lefty does not possess.

Both Lee and Price have success at limiting left-handed batters, but in two of the last three years, Lee actually had better numbers against righties. Price displayed the more traditional platoon advantage this year. Small sample sizes are in play for both, but I can believe that Price’s sweeping approach makes things more difficult for lefties but is slightly easier to track from the right-handed batter’s box. Meanwhile, Cliff Lee’s overhand style sacrifices some advantage versus lefties to better contend with the righties.

Outside of Ben Zobrist, none of the Rays did much with Cliff Lee in the first game. And then the righty-heavy lineup did even less with CJ Wilson in Game Two. I wonder if Joe Maddon will be tempted to start some of the lefties tonight, since the offense finally put runs on the board in Texas. Ron Washington has a much easier decision. His right-handed sluggers damaged Price the first time around and he can feel confident in trotting the same team out there again.

I expect Cliff Lee to be excellent, and I expect David Price to be much better than last time. But I don’t think he will be good enough. I expect the Rangers will win a low-scoring affair, 3-1. But no matter the outcome, Yankee fans can look forward to seeing a tough lefty in Yankee Stadium in Game 3 of the ALCS.

This topic seems to get brought up every season at some point, but nothing ever comes of it. I was reminded of it again during last night’s NLDS game, when I kept trying to root for the Braves. Whenever I started to feel a little enthusiasm, the crowd would start up with the Tomahawk Chop, and it was quickly snuffed out.

Look: I know it’s a tradition; I know the vast majority of people who do that chant, or wear caricatured Cleveland Indians mascot gear, are not racist and have no actual problem with Native Americans. But it’s well past time for those fans, and those teams, to demonstrate that by knocking this stuff off. Even if no great harm is being done now, these are the vestigial remains of a very real racism which has done plenty of harm, and I don’t understand why anyone would want to associate themselves with it. Does the pleasure of tradition really outweigh the ickiness of taking part, however briefly, in that kind of creaky, ugly, outdated world view?

The usual response to this argument is “lighten up,” and sure, there are bigger problems in the world today. But words have power, and so does iconography, and the argument “I just like doing this chant” simply doesn’t outweigh the negatives of perpetuating trite racist stereotypes.  I know a lot of great Braves fans, and none of them are enthusiastic Tomahawk Choppers; I know a few Indians fans, and none of them are comfortable with Chief Wahoo. This doesn’t seem to negatively impact their enjoyment of (or, more recently, hair-pulling frustration with) their team.

Imagine that a team had a Jewish caricature for a mascot. And that their traditional chant involved counting money. It’s actually not easy to picture because it would never, ever fly today, and I’m not sure why this is considered all that different. Last night I made the mistake of looking for a Jewish caricature to illustrate this point, and I came across a couple. One is part of a clever series at a website called Honor Indians, which along with imaginary team logos for “The Cincinnati Rednecks” and “The L.A. Wetbacks” is making an argument against the use of Indian mascots:

The other image I found is not making a satirical point. It’s from a cesspool of a white supremacist site which, for obvious reasons, I’m not going to link to:

Morbid curiosity got the better of me and I couldn’t help reading a few posts – about Jews ruining the Aryan Nation, “muds,” “wetbacks,” and a lot worse; how seeing white women with black men made the writer want to castrate the men and chop off the women’s heads; honoring the anniversary of Hitler’s coup; debating the feasibility of ethnic cleansing in America today.

To be clear, this is the site of a fringe sociopath and, OBVIOUSLY, in no way reflects the views of Braves or Indians fans. And it’s exactly because that kind of thinking – the kind that represents a race of people as an ugly little cartoon, or takes the centuries-old reduction of Native Americans into scalping warriors and turns it into a cheer – in no way reflects the views of fans that we should distance ourselves from it whenever we have the chance. No matter how innocent it might have become over the years, that’s just not a tradition worth carrying on.

Time to get creative, Braves fans – and well past time to ditch the Chop.

I think David Price and the Rays will find a way to beat Cliff Lee and the Rangers tomorrow night. Either way, neither Lee or Price is likely to start Game One of the ALCS against the Yankees. Over at the Pinstriped Bible, Steve Goldman takes a look at the possible pitching rotation for the New Yorkers:

Now, we know that the Rangers are reluctant to use Lee on short rest, but perhaps young Price won’t be subject to the same limitations. Yet, moving up Price, or Lee for that matter, doesn’t change anything. Whether they pitch Saturday (three days) or Monday (five days), they’re getting two starts in the seven games. If they pitch on regular rest on Monday, they have the benefit of their usual recovery time, and the manager retains the option of asking them to come back on short rest for Game 6 or regular rest for Game 7.

After the first four games, determining the matchups becomes difficult and depressing. Given Andy Pettitte’s fragile physical state, it seems spectacularly unlikely he would pitch on short rest for Game 5. That means A.J. Burnett or Ivan Nova or Waite Hoyt or someone who wouldn’t ideally start is going if Game 5 is necessary. One alternative, and it’s probably not a good idea or even a realistic one, is Hughes pitching Game 2 . This would open up the possibility of shis tarting Game 5 on three day’s rest. Then Pettitte would pitch Game 3 and would line up to pitch in the seventh game if, for some reason, Sabathia couldn’t make another short-rest start.

Well, kids, get your Rays gear on, because if this series goes five games, that means no Cliff Lee or David Price in Game 1 of the ALCS. Which we can now talk about freely without jinxing anything! (Again, not that I believe in any of that jinx stuff, of course).

Anyway, they’ll always be the Devil Rays to me; I was so annoyed when their silly name change actually worked. But I’ll be pulling for ’em today.

Roy Halladay has thrown a no-hitter in Game 1 of the NLDS against the Reds. The bum walked a batter in fifth inning.

Oh, Doctor!

[Picture by Bags]

As another postseason begins, today’s events serve as a reminder that it’s time for our annual public safety announcement:

BEWARE OF MOLINAS.

Molinas are extremely common this time of year. Always keep in mind that, even if they do not appear to be a threat, Molinas are very dangerous and can strike without warning. Almost every fall they claim at least one victim, tragedies that could likely have been avoided by taking a bit more care.

So, please, remember to remain on your guard when in the presence of Molinas throughout October and early November. If you come across one, do not attack or threaten it, do not approach its young, and do not hang any curveballs. Back slowly away and overpower it with your fastball. If all else fails, Molinas can generally be outrun.

Observing these simple safety tips will help ensure that you have a happy, healthy, and pleasant fall season.

-Your Friends at Bronx Banter

–

Photo of Molinas in their natural habitat by Iscan via Flickr

I’m going to enjoy watching the Rays and Rangers series. Consider this a game thread.

Speaking of Texas, here’s a long piece on Nolan Ryan and the Rangers by Jonathan Mahler for the New York Times Magazine:

In our conversations, Ryan lamented the fate of the modern pitcher, who has had to contend not only with performance-enhanced hitters but with certain changes to the rules of the game. During his playing days, Ryan relied heavily on intimidation; he is particularly annoyed by the empowering of umpires to eject pitchers from games for throwing at batters. “You take an aggressiveness out of the pitchers and put it into the hitters,” he told me in his office, where a pair of large oil paintings of cowboys on the Texas frontier hang above his desk.

Initially drafted in 1965 by the Mets, Ryan won his only World Series ring with New York but still couldn’t wait to leave. After a stint with the Angels, he became a free agent in 1979 and promptly returned home to Texas, pitching nine years in Houston before finishing out his career with the Rangers.

Ryan retired as one of the greatest pitchers ever, but the subsequent ascendance of statistical analysis in baseball has not been especially kind to his legend: the growing appreciation for walks as an offensive weapon has knocked him down more than a few pegs in the pitching pantheon. What remains remarkable about Ryan, though, is not simply his longevity — even in his 40s, his fastball approached 100 miles an hour — but his durability. At age 42, he once threw 166 pitches in a single game.

Ryan was never known as a student of the art of pitching. He was a power pitcher, blessed with an absurdly strong, seemingly indestructible arm. But he now has firmly held convictions about how to handle pitchers, and they stand in direct opposition to baseball’s prevailing orthodoxy — what he calls “the babying” of modern-day pitchers. “Pitch counts drive me nuts,” Ryan said. “You gonna put Steve Carlton or Tom Seaver or Bob Gibson on a pitch limit?”

Joe Pos on Vin Scully:

What Vincent Edward Scully first came to Los Angeles to broadcast Dodgers baseball games in 1958, he worried because he could not find the essence of the city. The center. The heart. He was 30 years old, and he had some clear ideas about what it took to call a baseball game. He thought it was important that the hometown baseball announcer know the hometown. So, he kept looking for this PLACE. That’s was how his mind worked then. There had to be a place. Back in New York, there was always a place.

Vin Scully heard life in New York City rhythms then — well, he had grown up in New York. He went to school in New York. He had worked with Red Barber in New York. And in New York there’s always a place, doesn’t matter if it’s Brooklyn or the Bronx, Harlem or Greenwich Village, Manhattan or Queens. There’s a place you go, where people gather, where decisions are made, where the energy pulses, where everything starts.

“In New York, for me, it was Toots Shor’s,” he says. That was the restaurant, of course, there on 51st street between 5th and 6th Avenues but closer to 6th. That was where things were always going on, where Vin could feel the city’s vibrations, its power. He might see Joe DiMaggio sitting with Marilyn Monroe. He might catch Frank Sinatra talking a little boxing. He might catch a glimpse or Ernest Hemingway or see Jackie Gleason hold court or see Judy Garland sitting in a corner. More than anything, though, he might hear what was happening in his town, what mattered, and Vin Scullly needed to know these things. He felt sure they made him a better baseball announcer.

Rays, Royals tonight out in the heartland…

[Picture by J. Parthum, Fort Greene, BK]

Over at SI.com, our man Cliff takes a look at how the Award season will play out. AL MVP?

1. Miguel Cabrera, 1B, Tigers (1)

Season Stats: .328/.419/.624, 38 HRs, 126 RBIs

September has been Cabrera’s worst month this season by far, but his extraordinary consistency is starting to win out as he has heated back up over the last week and enters Monday night’s action with an active six-game hitting streak during which he has gone 9-for-23 with four home runs. Cabrera doesn’t do much outside of the batter’s box and plays for a team barely keeping its head above .500, but no other American Leaguer has produced at such an elite level so consistently throughout the 2010 season. Cabrera has also started all but six of the Tigers’ games this season.

2. Robinson Cano, 2B, Yankees (3)

Season Stats: .318/.379/.532, 28 HRs, 105 RBIs

Hamilton has far and away the superior rate stats, but due to their disparate playing time, Cano leads the injured Rangers’ outfielder in RBIs, hits, runs, and walks (!), and is just one double and three home runs shy of Hamilton’s season totals. Give Cano additional credit for playing a far more challenging position, striking out fewer times in more than an hundred extra plate appearances, and for simple reliability (he has started all but three of the Yankees’ games this year), and he slips past the former frontrunner in this race.

Over at the Pinstriped Bible, Cliff, Steven and Stephani say Bring on the Rangers. Jay’s like, nah, bring on the Twins.