Daily Archives: February 9, 2010

Figure Drawing by Richard Diebenkorn (mid-1960s).

Think we need to double-up here as we shake rump to New Orleans funk:

Here goes my favorite version of a N.O. standard. Never fails to get me movin! (Man, to be able to whistle like that…)

Cliff is keeping busy over at SI.com. Here is his latest: How much of an improvement will big new additions be?

Let’s cut to the chase:

Javier Vazquez, SP, Yankees

Vazquez was one of the best starters in the National League last year, while the Yankee fifth starters whom he’ll be replacing (Chien-Ming Wang, Phil Hughes, Sergio Mitre, Chad Gaudin, and Alfredo Aceves) combined to post a 6.92 ERA over 32 starts while throwing just 147 innings. Vazquez is unlikely to repeat his career-best 2009 season (2.97 ERA, 238 K’s, 7.4 SNLVAR) and will suffer some from returning to the tougher league, but he’s replacing a combined performance that was a half-run below replacement according to SNLVAR. That makes him pure upgrade, and one which looks even better when you factor in the middle-relief innings he’ll also be replacing (Vazquez averaged 216 IP over the last decade).

Estimated upgrade: 4+ wins

…

Curtis Granderson, CF/LF, Yankees

Whether Granderson winds up playing center or left for the Yankees, he’ll be replacing Johnny Damon’s total at-bats while some combination of Brett Gardner and Randy Winn will replace Melky Cabrera at the other spot. Offensively, Damon was worth four wins over replacement last year according to VORP, which is the same level of production Granderson provided for the Tigers in 2008, but in 2009, Granderson fell off to 2.5 wins. He’ll have to rebound to close the gap, which is smaller than it first appears due to the fact that Damon cost the Yankees a win in the field last year, dropping his total value to three wins over replacement. Granderson’s defense is a matter of some dispute. UZR had him as close to a win and a half above replacement in center in 2006 and 2007, nearly a win below replacement in 2008, and roughly average in 2009. The Yankees should expect average defense from him in center and perhaps better than that in left, which means that, even before factoring in a rebound at the plate (some of which will be due to his escaping the lefty-killing Comerica Park), he would be at least as valuable as Damon in left field and could likely hold the line in center as well. While that may not sound like much for 2010, it’s worth noting that Granderson is seven years Damon’s junior and signed to a reasonable contract for the next four years.

Estimated upgrade: Even

There was a long feature on Martin Scorsese, who has a new thriller/horror movie coming out, in the Times last weekend:

It’s hard not to suspect, as you listen to him discoursing with a certain relish about the technical problems of the film and the rigors of shooting in a mental hospital — “It’s not a good feeling, being there every day” — that he has come to a point in his career where he actually thrives on difficulty, almost can’t do without it. Mr. DiCaprio described the process of working out the nuances of Teddy’s character as “pretty intense, because I didn’t really understand how emotionally complex this character is until Marty and I started breaking down this cathartic journey he goes on.” He paused and added: “When you’re working with someone like Martin Scorsese, you know you’re going to have to go places emotionally that you didn’t ever foresee.”

For Mr. Scorsese that’s entertainment. Some filmmakers as they grow older begin to pare down their styles, to produce mellow, autumnal works that attempt to express with serene simplicity the accrued wisdom of their lives. Does that sound like Martin Scorsese? His movies have always been fueled by nervous energy and huge uprushes of adrenaline, and it’s nearly impossible to imagine him doing without some kind of emotional turbulence, even if he has to induce it by sheer force of will.

I love to hear Scorsese talk–he’s a great New Yorker. And for a long time he was my favorite filmmaker. But I haven’t enjoyed the movies he’s made since Good Fellas. I appreciate that he’s still busy making movies, even if they don’t speak to me anymore. He’s an Institution now, I get it, and that’s cool, but I find that he’s become such a polished stylist that his technique gets in the way of the storytelling. He’s got technique for days, and he is a master, but his stories just don’t speak to me anymore.

Have you seen the preview for his latest? We’re in Cape Fear territory. I wonder if he’ll ever make an interesting movie again. John Huston kept making good movies for a long time, so I haven’t given up hope. Then again, I’m not holding my breath.

I was in elementary school during the last, sad years of my parents’ marriage. We had moved out of New York City to Westchester and lived on a street that was more country than suburban. I had a friend named Kevin who lived up the road in a big, dilapidated house. He kept a water-logged copy of Hustler under the front porch–my first glimpse of pornography. Next to the house was an enormous barn. They had horses and Kevin’s mother and his sisters gave riding lessons in a big rink next to the house. The father had recently died.

I remember being inside that house wondering, What happened? Kevin’s mother was polite, looked respectable, and went to work in the City. But the house was a mess. It smelled of cat urine. There were cats everywehre. It was cold in winter and the floors were covered with newspapers soaked with cat urine and covered with cat shit. I navigated the upstairs corridors in fear, quickly moving to Kevin’s room, which had a small TV where we once watched ABC’s Monday Night Baseball.

It was as if after Kevin’s father died, everything fell apart. At least that’s how I imaged it as I lived in dread that my parent’s marriage would not last.

There were only two smells that cut through the stench. One was the sweet smell of shampoo in Kevin’s sister’s feathered hair. It could have been perfume too. They listened to rock records, wore tight jeans and seemed so grown up. All they had to do is pass by and the air was cut by a rush of their wonderful and mysterious femininity. The other came from the kitchen. It was a cold room too and the fridge always seemed bare. There, Kevin would toast a few slices of white bread, spread them evenly with butter and then shake equal parts cinnamon and sugar on top of them.

His cinnamon toast was reminder that even when life is filled with disappointment, and seems to be caving in around you, when there is no money for indulgences, there can be something simple and satisfying that keeps you going.