Daily Archives: March 14, 2008

The Yankees and Reds were interrupted by rain twice, the second time with the game tied 7-7 in the tenth inning, which ended the contest there. Phil Hughes got lit up, and Shelley Duncan and Melky Cabrera (who apparently punched Evan Longoria in the back of the head during Wednesday’s mele) were both suspended for the first three games of the regular season. All in all, not the Yankees’ best day.

Lineup:

L – Johnny Damon (CF)
R – Derek Jeter (SS)
L – Hideki Matsui (DH)
R – Alex Rodriguez (3B)
S – Jorge Posada (C)
R – Shelley Duncan (1B)
R – Jason Lane (LF)
R – Cody Ransom (2B)
L – Brett Gardner (LF)

Pitchers: Phil Hughes, Jonathan Albaladejo, Edwar Ramirez, Heath Phillips, Chris Britton, Dan Giese

Subs: Wilson Betemit (1B), Bernie Castro (2B/CF), Nick Green (2B), Alberto Gonzalez (SS), Chris Woodward (3B), Kyle Anson (C), Greg Porter (PH/RF), Justin Christian (LF), Jason Brown (DH), Brett Gardner shifted to center field before coming out of the game.

Opposition: Ken Griffey Jr., Adam Dunn, Joey Votto and filler.

Big Hits: A three-run homer by Alex Rodriguez (1 for 3). Doubles by Derek Jeter (2 for 3), Johnny Damon (1 for 4), and Jorge Posada (1 for 3).

Who Pitched Well: Edwar Ramirez retired all five men he faced, striking out four of them. Jonathan Albaladejo retired four of the five men he faced, the one exception being a hit batsman. Dan Giese pitched around a double for two scoreless innings, striking out two.

Who Didn’t: Phil Hughes was flat out lit up. He gave up four runs on nine hits, five of them doubles, in 2 2/3 innings. This after having held his competition hitless over his previous five spring innings. Hughes threw 72 percent of his 66 pitches for strikes, which suggests he was missing in the zone, thus the hard hits and no walks. Heath Phillips, last seen getting rocked and ejected against the Rays, faced five men, two of whom walked, two of whom singled, and two of those four scored. Oh, and he tossed a wild pitch somewhere in the middle there. Chris Britton was good by comparison to those two allowing one run on a single and a double in one inning of work.

Oopsies: A bad throw by Alberto Gonzalez, his third error of the spring.

Ouchies: Andy Pettitte threw 47 pitches in the bullpen before the game and reported no discomfort in his elbow.

Hot Wheels: Two more steals by Brett Gardner (1 for 2, BB) who has five on the spring. “He’s an exciting player,” sez the skipper. “He creates havoc.”

More: More LaTroy pranks here. Props to Tyler Kepner for this great find. As for those suspensions, Melky might get his reduced to two games on appeal, but whatever happens, Joe Girardi and Brian Cashman have said they won’t change who they’re going to take north to compensate for the suspensions, which means Jason Lane and Brett Gardner won’t get an extra boost from the fact that the Yankees will have to play their opening series against Toronto with just three outfielders on the roster. That’s good news for Morgan Ensberg, who will have to decide whether or not to opt out of his minor league deal with the Yankees if he doesn’t make the Opening Day roster. Shelley Duncan, however, sounds devastated. Listening to that audio clip from Pete Abe, my heart kinda breaks for the guy. He’s like Lenny from Of Mice and Men; the poor guy just doesn’t know his own strength. (“Tell me about the World Series, George.”) Despite the split squad today, Duncan will be in the lineup facing the Rays, which seems like a good move on Girardi’s part to deliberately defuse this thing. Nonetheless, the umps will be on high alert.

Shameless Self-Promotion: Yeah, so the Yanks vs. Rays battle continues on YES this afternoon, but those of you in north Jersey should tape it and come see Steven Goldman, Derek Jacques and myself at the Borders at (or rather, outside of) the Rockaway Mall at 2pm today where we’ll be discussiong Baseball Prospectus 2008, as well as fielding your questions on the Yankees, Mets, your upcoming fantasy draft, or whatever else is on your mind these days. [Update: Bad day for me, too. My car crapped out, so I won’t be able to make this event]

This is the second of a two-part series.

August 2, 1979. I remember that day too well.

In the midst of one of my bad habits, I was staring at the television while eating dinner. I was watching "Gilligan’s Island," of all things, a show that I wouldn’t watch today if you paid me at a rate of $10 a hour. Suddenly, Metromedia Television in New York (Channel Five, for those who grew up in or near the city) interrupted the program with a news update. (I used to hate those updates, especially when they happened to interrupt one of the funniest scenes in a show.)

Within a few moments, the annoyance turned to disbelief. The announcer—I believe it was veteran newscaster John Roland—described a plane crash. I assumed that it involved a politician or someone like that. It didn’t. This crash had killed Thurman Munson.

I had trouble finishing that dinner. Each gulp became more difficult than the last. The meal just didn’t seem to matter. All that seemed important was the real tragedy of a Yankee hero lost. My favorite Yankee, no less.

I remember telling my father when he came from work a little bit later that night. I couldn’t even wait until he had entered the house; I shouted the news from a window that overlooked our driveway. I don’t think my father heard me at first. Maybe he thought I was making it up, but I’ve never had that kind of sense of humor. Or maybe he just couldn’t believe what had happened

I couldn’t believe it for days. Munson’s death—that’s all I thought about for the next three days. It still didn’t sink in—not even in those three obsession-filled days.

Most of the summer, my father and I watched baseball games together on TV. Back then, it was pretty much WPIX, with a few nationally televised games on Saturday afternoons and Monday nights. We might attend a game or two at the Stadium per season, usually not more than that. Simply by happenstance, my dad had bought two tickets several weeks earlier to the game scheduled for the night of Friday, August 3. That happened to be the first game the Yankees played after Munson’s death.

Prior to the game, the Yankees honored Munson by showing a video tribute on the old black-and-white replay scoreboard at the Stadium. As images of Munson flashed by, the fans cheered, then stood, then cheered more and more loudly. The cheers came in waves, medium and then large, becoming less and then rising in volume again. At first, my father and I remained seated. But it just didn’t seem right for us to do that, so we stood up and joined the rest of the Stadium in paying homage to the fallen Yankee.

Even when the video on the scoreboard came to an end, the fans continued to stand and cheer. Standing as part of that Yankee Stadium crowd, I couldn’t believe the length of that applause. That standing ovation lasted for at least ten minutes, maybe 12. It lasted so long, it was hard to keep track.

The length of that cheer—along with the energy and the intensity that sustained throughout—reflected the admiration we had for Munson. He was no longer the best player on the Yankees—he had long since given up that title to Reggie Jackson, Ron Guidry, Goose Gossage—but he was still the most beloved. That was partly because he had played so well for so long, bridging the gap to those years of mediocrity in the early seventies. More importantly, it was because of the way that he played, often racked with pain in his knees, yet never failing to make his best effort at blocking a pitch and never—not once that I can remember—failing to hustle his way on the basepaths. To this day, Munson remains one of the main reasons I get mad watching a healthy ballplayer fail to run hard on a groundball or a pop-up.

Moments before that Friday night game, I remember seeing Reggie Jackson crouched over in right field, crying openly. He and Munson had clashed badly at first, just two seasons earlier, but by now they had reconciled. Make no mistake about it, they weren’t friends, but they respected each other as teammates. Given how Jackson felt the loss of Munson, the other Yankees, the ones who had played with him much longer, must have endured nothing short of devastation.

I remember Luis Tiant pitching beautifully that night, but losing to the Orioles, 1-0. Ordinarily, I might have lost my temper watching a frustrating game like that. Not this night. It was heartbreaking to lose that game, but not as heartbreaking as losing Thurman Munson.

Bruce Markusen writes "Cooperstown Confidential" for MLB.com.