I received an email last week from a former teammate I hadn’t heard from in years. He was letting the old team know that our high school was celebrating the twentieth anniversary of our first Bergen County championship before the varsity game on Saturday. I looked at the word “twentieth” and for a moment wondered what team he could be talking about. I thought our 1992 team was the first to win Counties, but surely that wasn’t…shit, that was twenty years ago.

We showed up at the field on Saturday and most of the guys look like they could put on a uniform and get through seven innings without a nurse. The two decades took a toll in other ways though. There was less hair on display than a shoddy Brazilian bikini wax. It was the first time I’d seen my teammates since they became husbands and dads and it was a trip to see the changes in one fell swoop.

We’ve transitioned from teenagers to middle-agers along different paths but wherever and whenever it happened, our collective youth had vanished. Maybe some people held on longer than others, but after twenty years, nobody was spared. And that brings us to Phil Hughes who, it occurs to me now, has used up all his youth.

That’s the depressing part of Phloba’s (I am fusing Phil and Joba into the most disappointing word I can fashion, I might have broken that out last year, I don’t remember) breakdown. It would be fun to root for a Cy Young candidate or an All-Star (wait he was an All-Star?) but what we’re really lamenting injury after injury and sputtering pitch after pitch is the creeping shadow of time claiming Phloba’s youth. Whatever Phloba becomes now, it becomes as a man (as men?) with the burden of failure and the destruction of promise.

I knew I had to recap this game tonight, but I had a tough flight from Chicago backed up by dragging my ass around a basketball court and now a precarious time in which I try to make sure the coach seat and the boxing out don’t conspire to throw my back out when I sleep. When I saw Hughes was pitching, I didn’t even bother to record the game. I figured he’d be at best mediocre while giving up dongs left and right. If he was brilliant, I could suck it up and catch the replay.

No sucking it up was required.

My flight was delayed because of weather and I really hoped the game would be cancelled. I remember that’s how I used to feel when I young. I was so nervous for the games, I always hoped for rain. This time it was for strategic purposes – I didn’t want Phil Hughes to have to throw a pitch.

No such luck. The Yankees lost to the Orioles 7-1 in a game I’m glad to say that I missed entirely. I didn’t want to see Hughes let up homers. I didn’t want to see Eduardo Nunez massacre another position on the diamond. I didn’t want to see an offensive highlight package in which Arod’s bunt single, which led to no runs, featured prominently.

Hughes was better than last time, maybe the best he’s been all season, but it was nothing worth celebrating. And now he’s just another day older.

Photos by Al Bello / AP

In last year’s ALDS the Yankees touched up Justin Verlander but lost the game anyway when CC Sabathia blew the lead and Rafael Soriano gave up the winning homer. Tonight’s game spun out in unpleasantly familiar fashion as the Yankees got to Verlander for five extra-base hits and five runs in six innings but Ivan Nova couldn’t make it stand up. Nova was the one starting pitcher that had not submitted a stinker yet this season, but that’s history now.

After five pedestrian innings, Russell Martin presented Nova a surprise lead with a two-run homer off Verlander headed into the sixth. Nova proceeded to back up pedestrian with pus. The Tigers teed off on everything he threw, and the lead was gone in three batters – the big blow a booming double by Austin Jackson. Boone Logan came in and lost a battle to Prince Fielder and the inning ended with Detroit up two, 6-4.

The Yankees bounced back, scratching a run in the seventh and clawing another in the eighth. In between, Joe Girardi got run out of the game for arguing balls and strikes. The umpiring was another unpleasant reminder of the 2011 ALDS.

The stellar Yankee bullpen stepped up to hold the line, the highlight being Mariano’s vintage ninth inning. He broke three bats and struck out a guy looking while touching 93 mph on multiple pitches. In his first few outings, Mariano’s cutter wasn’t moving that much. Now it’s biting like a January wind.

In the ninth inning, the Tigers sent out a flame thrower named Brayan Villareal. He threw the ball so hard and with so much movement that one suspected he’d have trouble throwing three strikes before he threw four balls. He ran the count full to Russell Martin but coaxed a grounder to second. Derek Jeter worked a walk (and ended his fifteen game hitting streak in the process) and when ball four to Curtis Granderson skipped off Mike Avila’s shin guard, he was in motion and made it all the way to third. That brought up Alex Rodriguez, who locked in today with three hits, one of them a homer off Verlander, and his only out three feet short of the center-field wall.

Alex looked very dangerous up there and I was sure he was going to drive in the winning run as he tracked Villareal’s offerings into Avila’s glove. After two balls, Villareal’s third pitch sailed away from Avila. The catcher desperately stabbed his glove at the pitch but he couldn’t snag it. The ball rolled away towards the Yankee dugout. I started celebrating, but when the camera cut to Jeter straining down the line, he was not nearly as close to home plate as he should have been. It looked like he was running in mud and Jeter slid just as the ball arrived. Villareal dropped the ball, but Jeter was safe anyway. The Yankees made a winner of Mariano, 7-6.

Turns out Jeter got a poor read on the passed ball and if it wasn’t for Alex Rodriguez urging him to run, he wouldn’t have made it. Great game for Alex all the way around. And a great win for the Yankees after a few days full of bad news. This is exactly the kind of game the Yanks did not win in last year’s ALDS. Hopefully they’ll have one or two in the bag next time they get there.

I’ve been stewing about Pineda’s injury and Montero’s absence since I heard the news yesterday. Since the trade can’t be undone, it’s wasted energy on my part to continue to be upset about this. But before I let go completely, I want to write now what I was unable to articulate when the trade was made.

It was a dumb trade because the Yankees gave up cost controlled talent with ‘x’ risk attached to acquire cost controlled with ‘y’ risk attached, where ‘y’ was clearly greater than ‘x.’ This is an equation that a desperate team might follow, but not a perennial contender with deep pockets. The Yankees were better served keeping their own cost controlled offensive talent and using their financial might to acquire pitching, which is inherently more risky.

The Yankees chose to ignore all of CJ Wilson, Yu Darvish and Edwin Jackson when they were available. Those guys would have all been risky and expensive acquisitions but if they sucked or got injured, ala Igawa or Pavano, they could go get somebody else. They can spend money over and over again. They can only trade Jesus Montero once. I know that Pineda was more attractive than the expensive free agents because of his age and restricted salary, but that’s not a concern the Yankees should have had at the forefront of their decision making. They walked a tightrope when they could have paid to pave a road.

Let’s not forget the Yankees have to buy offense in the very near future. All the savings they were going to get from Pineda’s presence in the rotation were going to be spent filling second base, two outfield spots, catcher, and third base / DH. Why not just keep Montero and save that money? Why is money saved in the rotation any better than money saved in the lineup? Now of course, there will be no savings from Pineda as the Yankees will have to buy pitching to replace him as well.

It’s a classic case of being too cute for no reason. Even if you liked Pineda better than Montero, surely you liked Darvish and Montero better than Pineda and Ibanez. This is a roster equivalent of Girardi’s first inning intentional walk. If everything worked out, he looks like a smart guy. But he brought catastrophic outcomes into play that did not exist before the walk. By trading away the less risky Montero and acquiring the inherently risky Pineda, the Yankees brought into play a scenario where they get neither Pineda nor Montero and have to pay a shit load of money to replace them both.

I feel bad for the dude. Hope he rehabs and pitches well for the Yankees some day. And I’ll just leave it at that.

Photos by Mila Zinkova and AP/Bill Kostroun

Hiroki Kuroda and Yu Darvish came to the Major Leagues from Osaka by different routes. Darvish has talent and ambition that the Nippon League could not contain. It cost the Rangers over one hundred million dollars to bring him to Texas. Over his long career, Kuroda quietly moved from one challenge to the next, only considering the Major Leagues, and eventually Yankees, when his previous teams didn’t want to pay him anymore.

Their journeys to America, however different the paths, share a common starting point. In 1934, Eiji Sawamura left his high school team and renounced his amatuer status for a chance to prove himself against the best players in the world. He joined the newly formed All Nippon club to face Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig and the other American All-Stars during the Bambino’s famous tour of Japan and to become a member of Japan’s first professional baseball league, which would start play in 1936.

The Big Leaguers put on a hitting show all over Japan. They won all the games and hit bushels of homers to the delight of many Japanese fans. Every contest was lopsided save one, pitched by seventeen-year-old Eiji Sawamura. The game is recounted in detail in Robert K. Fitts’s new book, Banzai Babe Ruth. Almost equaling the famouns feat of Carl Hubbell in the 1934 All Star Game, Sawamura struck out Charlie Gehringer, Ruth, Gehrig, and Jimmie Foxx in succession while pitching nine brilliant innings.

The Japanese hitters would not score against the Americans, a theme that repeated itself throughout the tour, so Sawamura would have to be equally stingy. Sawamura took the mound with a bright, mid-day sun beind him and the American hitters had trouble distinguishing his adequate fastball from his hellacious curve. After several innings of futility, Babe Ruth advised his lineup to forget the fastball and sit on the curve.

In the  seventh inning Lou Gehrig did just that. The game was played in Shizuoka Kusanagi stadium, which is very small, even by Japanese standards. Gehrig picked out a curveball and his blast found the cozy right field stands. It was the only run of the game.

Connie Mack was the elder statesman on the trip, but did not attend the game. After Ruth recounted the young pitcher’s exploits, Mack rushed to meet Sawamura that evening. He asked Sawamura to return to America and become a Major Leaguer – sixty years before Hideo Nomo and Hideki Irabu, Sawamura had a chance to become the first Japanese import. Fitts has Sawamura’s answer:

Despite his competitive spirit and drive to beat the Major Leaguers, Sawamura would remain in Japan and honor his decision to play in the new league. “I’m interested, but also afraid to go” was the young pitcher’s official response. Mack smiled and did not press for a more definitive answer.

Japan celebrated Sawamura’s performance without regard for the final score. A Japanese pitcher proved his skill and heart against the best in the world. It not only made Sawamura a national hero, but laid an important brick in the foundation of Japanese professional baseball. Sawamura went on to have an excellent career, but it was cut short by World War II. He enlisted in the Imperial Army in 1943 and was killed when his ship was torpedoed near the end of the war. The Japanese created the Sawamura Award to recognize excellence in pitching, much like the American Cy Young Award.

Yu Darvish won the Sawamura Award in 2007 and was in the running each of the last four years. He showed why in eight and a third innings tonight. In only the seventh matchup of Japanese starting pitchers in the Majors, Darvish beat the Yankees and Hiroki Kuroda 2-0. Darvish struck out ten and got another twelve outs on the ground. He put on a show with a variety of effective pitches, most impressive to me was the difference between his mid-nineties four seamer and his low-nineties running fastball.

Hiroki Kuroda wasn’t quite up to that standard, but held a hard-hitting lineup in check into the seventh. He allowed a homer to Ian Kinsler in the first and made the mistake of walking Elvis Andrus in front of the hottest hitter in the American League. After a steal, Josh Hamilton drove in Andrus with a single. Other than that Kuroda kept the Rangers off balance with his off speed stuff. There are a lot of ways to get Major League hitters out and between these two creative pitchers, we saw most of them tonight.

The Yankees did have a chance to get to Darvish in the third. Granderson batted with the with bases loaded and nobody out. Darvish mixed sliders and fastballs and Curtis ran the count to 2-2 by fouling off the nastier ones. On the seventh pitch, he dropped a slow, wrinkly curve low and away and got a very generous call to get the strikeout. Alex Rodriguez could not get around on a 94 mph heater in on his hands and tapped into a double play to end the threat.

Of course Yu Darvish looks like a great investment tonight. He was excellent. I don’t doubt there will be bumps on the road, but he seems well equipped with strong command and deployment of an electric arsenal. Watching both pitchers tonight, I was happy to have Hiroki Kuroda on the squad, he’s a capable guy. But Darvish was good enough to make me wonder why the Yankees weren’t interested in him at all. It’s only one game though and if the Yankees see them again, I hope they remember revenge is Darvish best served cold.

(OK, that’s not a good pun, but neither are any of the other ones I’ve been hearing. Let’s at least try to push the envelope here.)

Photos via fromdeeprightfield.com and ESPN.com

Mariano Rivera shredded the Twins last night to seal a thrilling victory. Joe Mauer, one of the greatest batsmen in the game, was the second out. Mauer saw one pitch, an insistent, boring cutter and it destroyed him.

Mariano breaks a lot of bats. And he’s caused a few guys to chuck their bats after missing entirely. But what he did to Mauer, I’ve never seen before. Mauer hit the ball – a dribbler to second base – and still lost his bat into the seats. This wasn’t a guy slipping or getting fooled; Mariano literally knocked the bat out of his hands.

I thought of a good-guy gunslinger shooting the bad guy in the hand, or a fencer twirling the epee out his opponent’s grip. But more powerful than that. Maybe one of these moments captures it best:

[Featured Image: Getty]

I paused in front of my closet this morning thinking over my shirt selection. The pinstripes, number two on the back, was the obvious choice for the home opener. But my hand reached for the away grays sporting the double-barrelled fours. I was off work this week because the boys have spring break and being with them made me feel like I was a kid playing hooky. Maybe that’s why I wanted to wear Reggie’s jersey.

Yesterday I threw the first extended batting practice my four-year old ever requested. Previously, he’d been more interested in every other thing in the park over the bat and the ball. I’d carry the equipment to the field, he’d swing once or twice and I’d pack it up again while he dug up worms.

He took a hundred or so swings on Thursday morning. He’s chopping down on the ball too much and his feet are confused. He’s either moving them too much or not at all. But it’s unmistakably a baseball swing, and when he hits it he runs the bases – mostly in the correct order, though he’s not averse to skipping one if there’s a tag waiting for him there.

This morning, the sun was even brighter and warmer than yesterday and we had another great day at the park. Between 10 AM and noon, we had the entire park to ourselves and I think the lack of distractions and performance anxiety are key to sustaining his effort. We broke for lunch and picked up some rolls from the corner store on our way home. We are all Yankee hats and baseball bats walking up Broadway and one of the construction workers thought we were headed to the game. “Just going home to catch it on TV,” I said.

We got home and I fired up three hot dogs: ketchup for the four-year old, plain for the three-year old and mustard for me. We clinked them together and wished each other “Happy Home Opener” as Jorge Posada threw out the first pitch. I know they’re making progress with the Yankees because they only ask me if every other guy is Mariano Rivera instead of every single guy.

We crowded together on the couch and watched Hiroki Kuroda throw his warm up pitches. I told the kids that the Yankees were the team in pinstripes and the Angels were in red. My four-year old said something that sounded like “duh,” but I refused to hear it at the time (though in retrospect, that’s definitely what it was).

Kuroda doesn’t have overpowering stuff, but he runs his sinking fastball with a little tail right to the catcher’s glove. His splitter is dangerous because he is willing to throw it at any time. The first batter singled and stole second but Kuroda defused the inning when he got Albert Pujols to fly sky-high to left.

The Yankees looked to be going quietly as well in their half of the inning when Alex Rodriguez smoked a two-out single to left center and stole second. Ervin Santana scoffed at Alex’s one-man jam and walked the bases loaded for Nick Swisher to teach him the true value of teamwork. Swisher’s last at bat was the game winner in Baltimore on Wednesday night. This one was the game winner on Friday afternoon. He rocketed a bases-clearing double over the head of speedster Peter Bourjos in center field. He out-paced the pace car.

I was pouring milk for the three-year old at the time of the double but I was watching the game around the corner of the kitchen wall, unbeknownst to the kids. I saw the ball skip up off the wall in center and I asked innocently what happened. My four-year old came running, saying, “The Yankees got three!”

We watched the replay, slowing down the point of contact. It was a real blast. My four-year old turned, grinned and said, “Let’s go play baseball.” Click, pack, pee, velcro. Good luck Yanks, I’ll catch the highlights.

My phone told me Arod and Grandy hit homers and the replays confirmed they were laser beam liners to center and right respectively. Alex especially put a charge in his and added a single hit so hard and straight it seemed to curve on its way up the gut. I doubt this is backed up by hard evidence, but when he hits like this, I feel like the Yanks can’t lose. I wonder if others feel the same way and if that’s not a big reason why those fans get so down on him when he’s bogged in a slump.

I don’t get text messages every time a Yankee pitcher has a smooth inning or retires Albert Pujols, or ends the game on a knee-buckling curve ball, but that’s why they invented the DVR. Kuroda was excellent and left a tiny spill for Robertson’s industrial-strength Hoover to suck up in the ninth. The Angels are not the scariest offense, but just holding Albert Pujols to a single in four tries is an impressive outing for the Yanks.

I was happy to the see the final score but I remembered today how I used to think about baseball from about 1982 to 1995. Those were the years when my own games and practices were all that mattered and the Yankees were a sideshow. I know it’s convenient that the Yanks didn’t win anything during those years, but I remember that intense tunnel vision and no amount of confetti could have penetrated.

I don’t know if it will happen again in the same way – my boys might not even want to play Little League. I know I haven’t minded the gradual dialing down of my obsession in the last five years. But the Yanks will be there, probably winning more than they’re losing, regardless of what’s going on with us and they’re a heckuva back stop.

Now let me add one dark cloud to this sunny day; I’ve avoided mentioning this all post long. Somehow, for reasons some therapist thirty years from now might uncover, my older son decided to become a hard-core Pittsburgh Pirates fan. I shit you not. Our batting practice sessions have been built around the 1960 World Series and I’ve been Mazerowskied dozens and dozens of times over the last two days. He pretends that the Yankees trade Mariano to the Pirates so he can use him in their lineup (yeah, he’s not quite clear on that yet either).

Don’t worry, the three-year old ain’t getting away.

Yanks 5, Angels 0. Happy Home Game.

Photo Via Daily News

The Yankees notched their first victory of the 2012 season at the expense of the Baltimore Orioles by a score of 6-2. Perhaps the opening sweep made me uneasy in anticipation of the first win, because this game was not the walk in the park the final score indicates.

Ivan Nova mixed in lots of hits, whiffs and double plays in just the right order to hold the O’s to two runs over seven innings. David Robertson picked up where he left off and had a scoreless but shaky eighth. Mariano got the final three outs but allowed another booming extra-base hit and the final out was a low screamer that almost cut Gardner off at the knees in left. Mo’s pitches were in the 88-90 mph range and mostly not that impressive.

After the two teams exchanged runs in the first, the Yankees grabbed the lead for good in the fourth. The Yankee offense generated pressure all night long, but untimely inning-ending, bases-loaded double plays by Robinson Cano and Alex Rodriguez in the sixth and eighth kept the score close.

Matt Weiters and Derek Jeter each had four hits. The only time either of them failed to reach base was when Derek Jeter got out on purpose in the sixth.

The unwashed masses might think the idea of getting out on purpose runs contrary to the goal of scoring as many runs as possible, but what they fail to realize is that the sacrifice is as much a gift to the gods as it is a gift to the other team. Pious managers and devoted players – nobody has to tell Derek Jeter to get out on purpose – offer up these gifts not so much to score runs or to win baseball games, but in deference to the mystic forces of playingtherightway. Amongst the observant, this is not a strategy but a mark by which they can declare themselves saved.

Back in the game where people were trying, each team was drilling the ball all over the park. The Orioles out hit the Yankees 13 to 11 but were terrible with runners on base. The difference was that Nova, Robertson and Rivera didn’t walk anybody and the O’s issued seven free passes. Two of them scored in the fourth inning rally and the Orioles never caught up.

Ivan Nova bagged the victory, and, though he wasn’t dominant or anything, he’s the latest example of why we shouldn’t give a flying fig about spring training stats. Are you healthy? Is your velocity at or near an expected level? Great, the rest is meaningless.

The middle of the order isn’t doing much thus far so hopefully they kick in gear and start up a winning streak. For now, here’s # 1, courtesy of a man called Nova.

Rumors of Opening Day have fluttered around town for what seems like weeks. I heard there’s an opener in Japan. Are you sure it counts? There’s a premiere in Miami. A game in Queens. They still have a team? Something must have happened, the Red Sox are already in last place.

Our season doesn’t start until the Yankees play. They’re the closer of openers. The Yankees played today, against the Rays in Tampa, and lost in a fashion that is only salvaged by the knowledge that there’s 161 more games to go.

For seven innings, specifically innings two through eight, today’s game had all the ingredients of a breezy, 6-1, opening-day jaunt for the Yanks. But they play nine at this level and their wound-way-too-tight manager botched the first and their savior gacked the ninth.

With two outs and two on in the very first inning of the very first game of the year Joe Girardi called for an intentional walk. None of Ty Cobb, Babe Ruth, Ted Williams, Barry Bonds, or Jesus H Christ deserve an intentional walk in the very first inning of the very first game of the year.

Sean Rodriguez might deserve an intentional walk under some convoluted circumstances that I’m unable to fathom right now, say if the rest of the Rays were all dead and they would forfeit the game for being unable to send up another hitter after the walk. But, as you can probably guess, that wasn’t the case in the very first inning of the very first game of the year. 

Girardi’s colossal stupidity was greeted by Carlos Pena’s grand slam and the Rays had a four run lead in that same first inning of that same first game. Who could have seen that coming? (If haven’t read the game thread, here’s a hint: everybody.)

Alex Rodriguez shrugged off Girardi’s tight-assed, brain-dead move and had himself a nice day. He knocked a double to put some wind back in the Yanks’s sails and was part of two rallies that gave the Yanks the lead by the third inning. Trailing 4-3, Raul Ibanez cracked a two-out three-run job to stake the Yankees a 6-4 lead.

Neither starter was any good. Though Sabathia can thank Girardi for his final line looking so terrible, he still served up two gopher balls. And Shields was a hot mess and deserved a fate far worse than a no decision.

The Yanks handed Mariano a 6-5 lead and I gathered my boys around to watch the final frame. Mariano looked good for three pitches, setting up Desmond Jennings perfectly at 1-2, and then he missed high over the middle on the fourth pitch. It wasn’t the kind of high heat that gets whiffs and pop ups, it was a bail out for a guy down in the count. Jennings guided it right back up the middle for a hit.

What was the worst pitch of the inning, the bail out for Jennings or the next one to Zobrist? Mariano might have been counting on Zobrist taking a pitch, but whatever the reason, he threw a flat cutter and Zobrist tagged it for a triple in the right-center gap. The pitch didn’t have much action and Zobrist jumped on it.

Girardi must have been thrilled however, because he got to order two more intentional walks. During the second walk, my three-year old said, “Look Daddy, the wheels are off.” I was about to say, “No shit Henry,” when I looked down and saw he was holding one of those cars that has interchangeable parts. No wheels.

With five in the infield, Mariano struck out the terrifying Sean Rodriguez. He looked like he might also have a chance to get Carlos Pena. Pena sets up so far from the plate, Martin and Rivera went hard after the outside corner. After three almost identical pitches, maybe Pena was ready for one out there. He got the barrel on the fourth one and sent it back to the wall for the game winning hit. 7-6 Rays.

I missed the post-game press conference, but I’m sure Girardi has some regrets. I bet if he could do it over again, he’d just have Mo intentionally walk Sean Rodriguez with the bases loaded in the ninth to force in the winning run. When in doubt, go for symmetry.

The loss stings, but not so bad as it would in May, June, July, August or September. Not even a shadow of the wounds we’ve accrued in Octobers past. There are 161 games to go and probably about 157 of them will be better than this one.

Photo via vaguehowie

There is a heavily graffitied wall just north of Isham St, where Isham Park spills out onto Broadway. It’s sanctioned graffiti, done with care and in broad daylight. Some of the murals have been excellent, others have been less so, but they always brighten the corner.

Yesterday, I saw the artist at work for the first time.

I would have stuck around to see him finish, but I had two important meetings up on the hill.

That’s a tightly packed sixty seconds; thanks New York.

The Yankees approach the new season with questions surrounding the starting rotation. That’s no surprise, we’ve been talking about those shortcomings ever since Javier Vazquez became the least welcome sequel after Staying Alive (tough choice, lots of terrible sequels).

The surprise is that the Yankees have too many starters now. But once again, they’re having a very hard time finding five of them that are ready to be effective come opening day.  Here’s a take on the problem from John Harper in Daily News. 

The stats in spring training may be meaningless, but as Phil Hughes demonstrated last year, if you are not ready to answer the bell once the games count, you will get obliterated. So I hope Joe Girardi learned that lesson and will leave behind anyone that can’t cut it.

What if that means leaving Michael Pineda behind? If he’s going to get lit up like Hughes last year, then it’s for the best. But I will have a much happier time this spring if Michael Pineda is pitching well for the Yankees. Revisiting the Montero deal ad nauseum is inevitible, but it won’t be upsetting if Pineda delivers something  positive right away.

What’s your rotation now? What’s your rotation once Pettitte is back?

Now: CC, Kuroda, Pineda, Hughes, Nova

Then: Pettitte replaces Nova

If Nova is pitching better than Hughes, that can be amended.

After three or four years of avoiding the arduous climb whenever possible, I now usually take the stairs at 215th St and Broadway when I have a choice. There are 110 of ’em so it’s a challenge, but a welcome one after desk-jockeying all day.

2010.

1915.

This picture from 1916, taken from the East side of Broadway gives you a better idea of the climb.

What challenges do look forward to on your walks about town? Which ones do you avoid? I know I try to avoid the subway on treks of less than twenty blocks, though I’ll train it for less than ten in the rain.

Photos via myinwood.net & placematters.net

A subway train retirement village at 215th St.

My neighbor and I boarded the downtown A Train at rush hour one morning last week where I noticed a man drawing a portrait in a seat close to us. He was using bold strokes and working quickly.

The artist was a Black man, around forty years old by my guess, and he wore close-cropped facial hair and an army-green cap. His two front teeth appeared to be wrestling and the right tooth was winning.

My neighbor and I chatted for several stops and I didn’t give the artist another thought until I turned my head and saw that five or six people in our vicinity were holding portraits of themselves. The artist was reaching across the aisle to hand a fresh drawing to a stout, middle-aged Korean man who had his eyes closed.

The Korean man rejected the drawing without looking at it. Generally, this isn’t an insulting move. If you took every piece of paper that was handed to you in this city, you’d drown in the stuff. The artist explained, albeit with an edge, that he was handing him a drawing. The Korean man relented, though I still don’t think he understood what was going on.

And the Korean man’s instincts were at least partially on target. The artist was seeking tips. It was a clever, much more palatable (to me anyway) method of asking for cash on the subway, but it still put the recipient of the portrait on the spot. Some people gave the artist money for the drawing, some didn’t.

I leaned over to see the picture of the Korean man. It was a very good-not-great likeness, but when I considered that it was probably the seventh drawing the artist had done in less than thirty minutes, I bumped up the grade. He saw me looking and asked if I wanted a picture too.

I wanted to say yes, but we were slowing down to arrive at my stop, so I told him that there wasn’t time. He went to work on someone else. Then the train stopped and we waited for ten minutes poised right outside the 59th st stop.  He finished three more drawings in the ten-minute delay.

He didn’t come back to me, but he did catch my neighbor. Check it out.

I found the artist on the internet. His name is Roderick Perry Anthony and he signs “Orin” on his artwork. This is a profile of him from 2006. He’s still (or back) on the subway in 2012, and whatever that means for his career at large, I admire his dedication to his art.

Drawing by Orin

I used to commute from New Jersey into the city for my first job. Last Thursday night I stayed out at my family’s house in the suburbs to borrow a car.

On Friday morning, I drove across the George Washington Bridge just as the sun was rising over Washington Heights.

I don’t miss the traffic, but this was a great way to start a day.

The Cinderella Story is bullshit. It’s just an excuse to laugh and point at the misery of teams and fans with deservedly high expectations. We’re Yankee fans, we should get that.

“Who do you want to win the Series, man on the street?”

“Anyone but the Yankees.”

“Thanks, man on the street. You’re an asshat.”

Whatever. The Yanks are the bullies and the badasses and the rich kids and the guys who get the girls. If anyone deserves that treatment, it’s the Yankees. But the celebration of generic upsets that is March Madness is just cynicism thinly veiled with smile and fist pump.

“Yes, I am really happy really just happy that Bumblefuck U and their 15 fans have won a game and not at all reveling in the tears of that number one or two seed that is obviously a way better team.”

“Man, are you the same asshat that we met on the street earlier?”

The NCAA tournament is one of the great sinkholes. Fall in on a Thursday, emerge on Sunday night. Three days to recharge and reenter on the second Thursday. By the time you climb back out on that second Sunday night, will your job and family still be waiting? Saints, all of them, if they are.

But if your team gets upset on opening night, you’re ripped from the cocoon. Even worse, you’re out, everyone else is in, and you can’t escape the proceedings. You just have to hang at the back of the dance hall, moping, and wait for someone else to join you.

My team has been ousted on opening weekend by lower seeds in its last three appearances and I’m pretty sick of it. One of the matchups featured a good old fashioned soul fucking by the referees and a future NBA star auditioning his supernova in the second half (Davidson and Steph Curry). The other two losses were to teams sprinkled with magical pixie dust – one fast acting (Ohio), the other long lasting (VCU).

Just get to that second weekend. Extend our stay down in the hole. Please. We’ve only got so many more of these tournaments before the NCAA’s blatant corruption and exploitation collapse the enitre eco-system.

This year, the most popular upset pick is Belmont. They didn’t even have to win a game to become this tournament’s darlings. In the past, at least the media would save its slobber for an actual winner. Great for Belmont and all the bullshit offensive fouls they will draw on Friday.

Perhaps it will be mentioned that Ken Pomeroy ranks them as the 23rd best team in the country, and thus likely the best 14th seed in the history of the tournament? Suddenly an upset would not seem so staggering nor suggestive of all that’s right with America. Simply calling it “a fairly likely outcome” wouldn’t even put in dent in Jim Nantz’s hair. But I hope someone at least tells the refs they can call it straight.

I wonder what it does for a big team to be counted out before they even take the floor? What happens when you tell the bad guys the fairy tell ending in advance? I don’t know what follows, but my team copes well with paranoia. So go ahead Belmont. Chuck your threes and and let’s see what happens.

If the piss ain’t shipped, you must acquit.

If you can’t see the pee, he must walk free.

If FedEx is closed, your case is hosed.

If the pee is refrigerated, he must be exonerated.

What you got…?

Before we jump whole hog into spring training, let’s take a look back at the way we left things in 2012, after a seven game World Series featuring an all-time classic in Game 6.

Poised one strike away from their first World Championship the Rangers gacked both chances and lost Game 6 and then the Series.

So unbelievably close to ecstasy. Twice. Fans surely began plans for the parade as Neftali Feliz offered to David Freese, wrecked them, revived them, and then wrecked them again in a matter of minutes. Nelson Cruz misplayed Freese’s two-out, two-strike flyball into a game tying triple. Josh Hamilton reestablished the two-run bulge, only to watch Lance Berkman’s two-out, two-strike single tie the game again in the tenth. Freese homered to win it in the bottom of the next inning.

The Rangers jumped out to another two-run lead to start Game Seven, but by this point they should have realized that two-run leads were just making the Cardinals angry. The Cardinals erased the lead and stormed ahead to their eleventh title.

It’s the saddest of all losses, for me anyway, to be so close to success, only to have it slip away. Miserable. Horrible. Indelible. But not, as it turns out, uncommon.

Twenty one World Series have featured a team on the cusp of winning a ring, leading the potentially deciding game (OTC games from here on, for On The Cusp), only to lose the game and the Series. The losing team held that lead with six or fewer outs to go eleven times. Two losers whittled immortality down to a single, slender strike.

Here are the worst losses of all time, according to me. It’s a reminder that the brightest lights of baseball history for some cast out some of the darkest shadows for others.

Let’s get the Yankees out of the way first. As bad as these losses were, even in the throes of despair, we wouldn’t have traded places with any other fans of any other team in any other sport in the history of the universe.

In Game 7 in 1960, the Yanks led the Pirates by three with six outs to go to claim the title (and reached a 94% win probability, the fourth highest of all time for a losing team), but the Pirates capped a five run outburst with a two-out, two-strike, three-run homer to take a 9-7 lead into the ninth. The Yankees did manage to tie, but lost on the famous Mazerowski death blow. Devastating to be sure, but if any team and fan base could be insulated from a loss like that, it was the 1960 Yankees who had won eight of the previous twelve titles before the loss and would win the next two afterwards.

The 2001 World Series, for so many of us here on the Banter, was the worst loss we’ve ever experienced. Hard to recall that night and believe there were many worse fates on a baseball field. But for me, the Yanks never seemed likely to win. The lineup appeared to be broken beyond repair and Andy Pettitte allowed fifty runs in their first shot at it in Game 6. In Game 7, the Yankees bundled an improbable 2-1 lead to Mariano, thanks to Soriano, Clemens and a nifty relay to third. Mariano had good stuff in the eighth, but in the ninth, things went off the rails immediately. Because of the slim lead and Mo’s error on the bunt, the Yanks win expectancy never got higher than 82%, which isn’t even in the top ten of all time OTC losses.

The first team to lose the World Series in a truly heart wrenching fashion was the 1912 New York Giants. They approached Game 8 of the series (Game 2 had ended in a tie) with Christy Matthewson on the hill and confidence high. Matty coughed up two late leads. In the seventh, he allowed a two-out pinch-hit double which tied the game at one. Then leading by a run in the tenth, his centerfielder dropped a ball and Matty couldn’t recover. The Giants, who reached a maximum of 85% win expectancy (WE), got within two outs, but like the Yankees in 2001, this deciding inning never looked secure. Tris Speaker tied it with a single to right and the ill-advised throw to the plate set up the winning sac fly.

The fallout was extreme for one man – Fred Merkle stood in Soriano’s position during the 2001 Series, about to be the hero with a go-ahead hit prior to the meltdown. Instead, Merkle is now only known for the time he failed to touch second base in the 1908 pennant race. I’m sure he’d have liked to add a “slash hero” to his boner.

The Giants also pop up as the second team to lose with victory close at hand. In 1924, up three games to two, they led Game 6 of the Series in the fifth but couldn’t hold on. They then rebounded and took a two-run lead into the eighth of Game 7, but blew it when Bucky Harris tied the game with a two-out, bases loaded base knock. The Giants stranded a lead off triple in the ninth, and lost in the 12th. Walter Johnson pitched four scoreless in relief for the win for Washington.

The Big Train was in the station again the following year, taking the ball in the Game 7, but with the opposite result. The Senators bats were ready to repeat and staked him an early four spot, but Johnson gave it all back. He held a 6-4 lead in the seventh, and blew it. He held a 7-6 lead with two outs and nobody on in the eighth. And again, he gave it away. Consecutive doubles tied the game and then a walk and an error by his shortstop extended the inning for Hall of Famer Kiki Cuyler, who dealt the telling stroke with a two-run ground rule double. It was the 15th hit off a spent Train.

The Senators never won again, so that sucks. And they have the distinction of being the only team in history to lead three OTC games, and to lose them all. They kept getting closer, 20 outs away in Game 5 (66% WE), 19 outs in Game 6 (71% WE) and then four outs in Game 7 (85% WE) only to blow it each time.

Walter Johnson, Christy Matthewson and Mariano Rivera figure in the worst losses of all time. A rotten occasion, but good company nonetheless.

The 1985 Cardinals were two outs away from winning the World Series, and should have been only one out away. Don Deckinger’s infamous blown call to start the ninth set up an inning from hell for Todd Worrell. Much like Mariano in 2001, he almost righted the ship when he nailed the lead runner at third on a sac bunt attempt to leave runners at first and second with one out, but Daryl Porter gave up a passed ball to undo that good work. Dane Iorg delivered a game winning, pinch hit single.

The Cardinals held a 3-1 series lead in 1985, but they never led in Games 5 and 7. They reached a WE of 84%.

What’s left? I’m sure you can guess. The 1986 Red Sox, the 1997 Indians, the 2002 Giants and the 2011 Rangers. Each team was plagued by significant title droughts. The Giants had never won since abandoning New York, the Indians were such a living joke that, like the Senators in the 1950s, they could only win in fiction, The Red Sox made otherwise sane people believe in curses, and the Rangers, while lacking in historical collapses, had, unlike the other teams, never, ever won one.

I’m going to put the 1997 Indians fourth here. The long-suffering fans of Cleveland had not celebrated anything since a Browns championship in 1964. Lebron James was only 13 years old, and perhaps already rooting for the Yankees. They led Game 7 against the Marlins 2-1 and had a chance to increase the lead in the top of the ninth. Big Jim Thome could not drive in Roberto Alomar from third with one out (WE peaked here at 89%) and the one run lead didn’t budge.

Closer Jose Mesa came on in the ninth and went single, whiff, single to set up the tying sac fly. The Indians didn’t threaten in extra innings and Renteria won the game with two outs in the eleventh.

I know this was hard to take in Cleveland, but I don’t believe many Indians fans were sure of victory. First of all, they only had 86 wins and had to beat far superior teams in the ALDS and the ALCS. Plus, Mesa had blown two games already in that same Postseason. I’m not sure any Indian fan’s stomach was settled when he took the ball. These were not the 1954 Indians.

Those guys lost to the Giants, who happen to also own the third worst loss in history. In 2002, the Giants were looking at a championship drought just about as long as those 1997 Indians (48 years vs 49 years). In 2002, with Barry Bonds putting on a Ruthian display of dominance, they came to the brink. With a 3-2 lead in the Series, they led Game 6 by five in the seventh. That was good for a WE of 97%, second highest of all time for a loser.

Russ Ortiz got one out before two singles in the seventh. Dusty Baker decided to go to the bullpen, but as Ortiz left the mound, Baker gave him the game ball. From Little League up on through to the Show, back to down to beer league softball, I’ve never even heard of someone doing that. (Unless it was a record, or a first MLB hit or whatever, but that’s not the same). Felix Rodriguez came in and allowed a three run jack to Scott Spezio.

Baker finally got out of the seventh with Tim Worrell, but he did not go for the kill in the eighth with Robb Nen. He let Worrell get in deep trouble first. (If you haven’t had enough Yankee misery, this inning reminds me a lot of Game 5 in the 2004 ALCS when Torre let Gordon put the game in inescapable jeopardy instead of going for the kill with Mariano.) Worrell let up a bomb and two hits and Nen came in for a really tough save. He couldn’t get it. He let up a go ahead double to Glaus.

The Giants took a brief lead in Game 7, but the Angels equalized in the same inning. Garret Anderson’s bases clearing double in the third was all the Angels would need for the Series win.

The 1986 Red Sox and the Rangers have the last two spots and it’s up to you how you want to rank them. I put the Red Sox misery ahead of the Rangers. The Red Sox were 68 years deep in an 86-year drought. The Red Sox fan base let itself believe that fate was against them, refusing to put proper accountability on the players and the management. The Red Sox came the closest to winning without actually winning, attaining a 99% WE at 5-3 with two outs and nobody on in the tenth inning of Game 6. And that after blowing 79% WEs in the fifth and seventh (a 2-0 lead and a 3-2 lead). The Rangers got to 96% in the ninth and then blew it. They scaled back up to 93% with Josh Hamilton’s tenth inning blast. Then they blew that.

If we just left it there. I think it’s a slight edge to the Sox. Each team got within one strike of winning the World Series. Twice. (Knight and Wilson in’86 and Freese and Berkman in ’11) Even after putting the outcome in doubt, the Red Sox were down to a final strike on Mookie Wilson. Bob Stanley uncorked a wild pitch to tie the game. Bill Buckner did his thing for the winning run. Two devastating, rapid fire body blows. The Rangers big play was the two-strike Freese fly ball. Would have been caught by most right fielders. Maybe even should have been caught by the hobbled Cruz. But a guy reaching for a ball he can’t quite reach won’t live on in the same kind of eternal infamy as the ball trickling through Buckner’s legs.

And Lance Berkman is a borderline Hall of Famer with an incredible track record. Mookie Wilson was just OK. Berkman got a clean hit. Mookie, well, you know…didn’t.

But maybe that’s splitting hairs. No matter, the real separation comes in Game 7. The Rangers took a lead, but blew it immediately. The Cardinals controlled the game from there. 1n 1986, the Red Sox took a 3-0 into the sixth inning. They had a WE of 88% in that inning, by itself the seventh highest perch from which a team has fallen. And it all came crashing down a second time.

I don’t konw what misery would do without all that company.

Found on the walk between uptown pre-schools a few weeks ago: one of New York City’s greatest mysteries.

To me, anyway. The first time I remember seeing sneakers strung across telephone wires I was in the Bronx around Yankee Stadium. I asked why, and I’m sure I received an answer, but the answer didn’t have sufficient tack to stay with me.

Here are a bunch of theories, though not exclusive to New York. I like the idea that when you get a new pair, you throw the old ones up there. And since my wife snapped this pic on a block between my kids’ schools, let’s be tooptimistic and rule out the crack, murder and gang-related explanations.

A pair of sisters walked onto the train at 145th st this morning. I pegged them at eight and twelve. They both carried brown paper bags and the younger sister opened her bag and extracted a muffin. She raised it to her mouth with her right hand and took a bite. As she ate, her left hand lost interest in holding the bag and she dropped it to the floor.

Our eyes followed the bag to the floor and then as we reset our viewpoints, we found ourselves staring at each other. There was a fraction of an instant of panic in her eyes as she realized that I witnessed her blatant littering. She recovered quickly and replaced the panic with confidence, perhaps remembering that littering is not a crime and that I was not a cop.

I took her confidence as a challenge, though one I had no desire to take up. I don’t like littering, but I had already spent half an hour trying to get children to listen to me earlier this morning without any hint of success, and those children depend on me to delineate the borders of the DC and Marvel Universes and to unlock the cabinet containing the cereal. This little girl doesn’t need anything from me.

I did not accept her challenge, but I also didn’t want to let her off the hook completely. I searched for a facial expression that could convey disappointment and rejection at the same time. My go-to is a ponderous head shake, eyes closed, with a slight frown. Too engaging for this situation. I thought of an exaggerated frown. But it seemed like that was an admission of defeat rather than a dismissal.

I settled on a quick combo. A heavy eye roll and a weird lip scrunch. I wanted it to say “Whatever. Litterer.”

I don’t think it worked, and I’m sorry that somebody else to pick up the brat’s garbage, but I’m glad I didn’t get in an argument with a little girl.

[Brown Bag via stelladoll7]

The Yankees have won 27 World Series titles, 24 of those teams have featured good hitting catchers. The Yankees have qualified for the postseason 51 times, or would have if not for the season-ending strike of 1994, and 44 of those teams have featured good hitting catchers. (Forgive me, I used OPS+, which I know measures nothing, but is right there on the main stat line of baseball-reference.com’s team pages and tempts the weak.)

When the Yankees have not merely good, but great hitting catchers they really cash in. Yankee teams with starting catchers (again, by baseball-reference’s definition) sporting an OPS+ of 130 or higher won an average of 99.3 games (prorated for a 162 game season where necessary). When their catcher was between 110-129, they won 96.8 games. The average hitting catchers (90-109) played for teams that won 89.9 games and when the catchers could not hit at all, they won 84 games per season.

By no means is this to say that these players are solely responsible for the successes and failures. But I do think their presence on the roster makes a significant contribution. There are other ways to win for sure, but if it ain’t broke… 

Typical offensive output behind the plate is so anemic that when a catcher carries a big stick, it’s an obvious advantage. Factoring in the financial clout of a team like the Yankees, the team does not have to skimp on the rest of the lineup to accomodate a star catcher, cements the gain. The Yankees built dynasty after dynasty on the backs of good hitting catchers.

Dickey, Berra, Howard, Munson and Posada all spring easily to mind. But important platoon guys filled in the cracks. Aaron Robinson helped usher in the Yogi-era; Pat Collins backstopped the legendary late twenties teams. Before them, Wally Schang contrbuted mightily to the first World Series teams by getting on base at a .403 clip from 1921-1923. And as Bruce Markusen pointed out the other day, Mike Stanley helped slug the Yankees out of the misery of the early 90s.

Joe Girardi is the worst hitting catcher on a championship Yankee squad. Most, including me, would forgive him his 75 OPS+ as a Yankee for his triple off Greg Maddux and his graceful yielding of his position to Jorge Posada in 1998.

Now that same light hitting catcher is at the helm as the Yankees try to create their next dynasty. The trade of Jesus Montero means that there is nary a hitting catcher in sight (depending on your squinting abilities). Or if you prefer, the trade of Jesus Montero is probably an admission by the Yankees that he could not be a hitting catcher. Regardless, if the Yankees successfully build a dynasty without one, it’ll be the first time.

But as Yoda might have said, there is another Montero.

Miguel Montero is a good hitting catcher from Arizona who might become a free agent next year. And he can catch it, too. If he does become available, the Yankees could be in the market. Over at RAB, Mike Axisa takes a look at what it might take to get him.

Under normal operating conditions the Yanks would rather have Michael Pineda and Miguel Montero at catcher over Jesus Montero as a non-catcher. But these are not normal times. If the $189 million ceiling for the 2014 team is made of bricks, then signing Miguel Montero to a market-rate deal next offseason makes everything else they have to do that much harder.

Where the Yankees go from here is anybody’s guess. Their minor leagues contain promising catchers, though the hitters are far away from the show. For a team whose championship DNA is riddled with catcher code, if they aspire to another dynasty, I hope a catcher is coming soon and he’ll be bringing a big bat. 

Alex is out sick, but he still found time to give us a beat for the day.