Daily Archives: April 3, 2007

By Will Weiss
Bronx Banter Correspondent

Since watching the Yankees is no longer my job, I, like many of you, resorted to DVRing the game and watching a three-hour telecast in 12 minutes. However, I did watch all the Geico caveman commercials. They kill me. (Non sequitur alert: I read where ABC is planning a pilot based on the Geico Cavemen. Can cavemen hurdle sharks?)

Back to the point of this bonus entry…What do we make of the Opening Day coverage? As of this writing, the papers hadn’t updated their Web sites to reflect postgame coverage, save for the AP recaps, and Opening Day blogs from Newsday and the Star-Ledger.

My commentary here is a brief scan of the highlights and lowlights of the Opening Day TV, and cyberspace.

TV
* YES’ telecast started well enough, until the question “How do you follow the Yankees from Iraq” was asked to some soldiers in attendance. As for the Cory Lidle factor, it would have been easy to overplay the emotions of the first-pitch ceremony, with Lidle’s wife, Melanie, and son Christopher, throwing out the first pitch. The subtle route was the way to go. The look on Jason Giambi’s face conveyed everything.

* I don’t have the broadcaster lineup taped above my desk anymore, but I’d guess the trio of Kay, Singleton and Girardi will be a common and formidable one throughout the season. Bobby Murcer’s third-inning appearance was a welcome sight. And he sounds as healthy as ever.

* Expect more gems from Joe Girardi like this postgame nugget: “Pavano needs to make adjustments the third time through the order, because the Devil Ray hitters adjusted to him.”

* New feature: Text messaging for the player of the game.

* Oops: YES misspelled Carl Crawford’s last name as he strode to the plate for his at-bat in the top of the seventh. It’s Opening Day for everyone. The Yankees got away with three errors, right?

* I’d have more on ESPN, but I couldn’t stay up for the 1 a.m. Baseball Tonight. Florida’s win dominated Sportscenter for the last hour.

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By Emma Span

It’s a long subway ride from my apartment in Brooklyn to Yankee Stadium, but I usually enjoy the trip uptown. By the time you pass Grand Central, the train is packed, and almost everyone is wearing Yankee gear and talking baseball. I remember being on the 4 train a few years ago, when a young businessman casually turned to his friend and asked, “So, how many innings do you think Kevin Brown will go tonight?” At which point literally half the subway car turned around – young and old, black and white and hispanic, Christian and Jew — and offered opinions ranging from one to four. Yesterday, I sat next to two college-age girls who rode through most of Manhattan lamenting the fact that Carl Pavano, who should be so hot, has sucked too much to crush on. (But, they agreed, it’s going to be okay: Andy Pettitte is back).

In that same vein, while the view could be better, you absolutely cannot beat the Yankee Stadium bleachers for color commentary. They’re a testament to the diversity of this city’s residents – and, also, to their remarkable and ceaseless innovation in the field of smuggling booze past stringent security. The bleacher experience is only as good as your neighbors, though, so I lucked out yesterday when, deep in the left field side, I found myself sitting in front of Statler and Waldorf.

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