Daily Archives: March 26, 2010

Facing the Phillies’ starters, Phil Hughes struck out five in three innings while slotting into the fifth spot in the rotation on short rest. Jamie Moyer was better as he, Chad Durbin, and Ryan Madson dominated the Yankees and the Phillies won 3-0.

Lineup:

R – Derek Jeter (SS)
R – Marcus Thames (DH)
S – Mark Teixeira (1B)
R – Alex Rodriguez (3B)
L – Robinson Cano (2B)
S – Nick Swisher (RF)
L – Curtis Granderson (LF)
L – Brett Gardner (CF)
R – Francisco Cervelli (C)

Subs: Jon Weber (1B, RF), Jorge Vazquez (1B), Eduardo Nuñez (2B), Ramiro Peña (SS), Kevin Russo (3B), Melky Mesa (CF), David Winfree (LF), Randy Winn (DH)

Pitchers (IP): Phil Hughes (3), Zach Segovia (2), Mariano Rivera (1), Damaso Marte (1), Royce Ring (1), Amaury Sanit (1)

Big Hits: None. The Yankees had four singles and no walks. No Yankee reached base more than once. I suppose the big hit was Marcus Thames‘ single as it got his average back in the triple digits (he went 1-for-3 and is now hitting .114) and came against a lefty (Jamie Moyer).

Who Pitched Well: Mariano Rivera, Damaso Marte, and Amaury Sanit each threw a perfect inning recording a strikeout each. Working on short rest so as to get in rotation as the fifth starter, Phil Hughes worked three scoreless innings while allowing just two singles and striking out five including Jimmy Rollins, Chase Utley, and Ryan Howard in the first. He also walked four and uncorked a pair of wild pitches, though reports were that he was just missing the zone rather than being as wild as those numbers might suggest, which is something I’ve seen Hughes do in the past. He refuses to throw to the heart of the plate even when he’s not getting the corners.

Who Didn’t: Royce Ring struck out two in the eighth, but also allowed two runs on two doubles. Both runs were unearned, however. Zach Segovia wasn’t charged with a run, but he allowed an inherited runner from Hughes (who faced one man in the fourth and gave up a single) to score and allowed four baserunners (two singles, a double, and a walk) in two innings of work.

Nice Plays: Nick Swisher threw out Placido Polanco at home with the help of a nice tag by Francisco Cervelli.

Oopsies: Francisco Cervelli made a throwing error. Jon Weber, playing first base, booted a ball. Eduardo Nuñez was picked off first base while pinch-running for Robinson Cano following one of the Yankees four singles.

Cuts: Thirty-year-old Cubano Amaury Sanit was finally farmed out. He impressed in camp, striking out six in 5 1/3 innings without issuing a walk or allowing a run. He is likely headed for the Triple-A bullpen.

Other: Francisco Cervelli will be away from the team for the next two days to attend to an unspecified personal matter.

Nude, by Amedeo Modigliani (1912)

Here is part two and three of Pat Jordan’s spring break piece for Deadspin (and here’s part one):

It was almost 2 a.m. now, and I decided to go back to the hotel to get some sleep so I’d be sharp for the wet t-shirt contest the following afternoon. I walked back toward the hotel and passed Molly Brown’s Ladies. I asked the guy at the door if they had any kids in there, figuring a strip club was too expensive a proposition for college kids. “Yeah, we got a lot,” he said. I smiled and said, “You got any age-appropriate chicks for me? Maybe 65, 68, but without aluminum walkers?” He did not laugh. I decided, what the hell, might as well go in, but he stopped me. “I don’t want you in here,” he said. I flashed him my Gawker/Deadspin letter, but it did no good. I let it drop and walked back toward my hotel, with two thoughts: No one will let me in anywhere, and kids on Spring Break today are different from the kids in Fort Lauderdale in the ’80s. The Lauderdale kids had no money and slept in their vans. These kids stay in hotels, go to strip clubs and nightclubs and bars that are expensive. The Lauderdale kids ate at McDonald’s, and if they were lucky enough to have the cash, they stayed 10 kids to a hotel room, which they destroyed. It’s the times. There’s no free lunch anymore. Only kids with cash and plastic get to play.

Roger Ebert recalls his drinking days over at Granta:

Above all we drank. It is not advisable, perhaps not possible, to spend very many evenings in a place like O’Rourke’s while drinking Cokes and club soda. Sometimes I attempted to cut back, by adopting drinks whose taste I hated (fernet branca) or those with low alcohol content (white wine and soda). Night after night I found these substitutes relaxed me enough to switch to scotch and soda. For a time I experimented with vodka and tonic. I asked Jay Kovar what he know about vodka ‘as a drink’. He said: ‘Sooner or later, all the heavy hitters get to vodka.’

The MAN:

With that fully formed mustache, Tom Brookens looks like a throwback to one of those tough Irish players of the 19th century. He also looks as ready as any infielder could possibly be on his 1990 Upper Deck card. As it turned out, Brookens had to be readier than most. He didn’t have much natural talent; he lacked a smooth swing, possessed little power, and had only average speed. In the absence of superior skills, Brookens compensated with an extraordinary work ethic and a high level of intelligence. Those qualities allowed him to last 12 seasons in the big leagues, while preparing him well for a second life as a coach and manager.

Originally drafted and signed by the Tigers’ organization, Brookens made it to the major leagues shortly after the arrival of Sweet Lou Whitaker and Alan Trammell, two fellow infielders who had come up through the Bengal system. Prized as prospects, they had far more ability than Brookens, forming one of the game’s best double play combinations for about a decade and a half. So Brookens settled for a role as a combination of semi-regular third baseman and utility infielder. He would play most of his games at third, but also be available to relieve Whitaker or Trammell at either of the up-the-middle positions.

Young third basemen often challenged Brookens along the way. There was Barbaro Garbey, who was once called the “next Roberto Clemente” by manager Sparky Anderson. Other prospects, like Howard Johnson and Darnell Coles, also received shots at the hot corner. They all had more talent than the incumbent, but Brookens outlasted all of them in a Tigers uniform. Even by the late 1980s, Brookens remained the Tigers’ No. 1 third basemen on the depth chart.

As far as third basemen go, Brookens was considered a subpar player, because of his inability to hit for either high average or power. But as a utility infielder, Brookens was regarded as one of the most accomplished role players in the game. Never complaining about his irregular role, the surehanded Brookens became a reliable defender, usually hit about .250, smacked an occasional home run, stole the odd base here and there, and gave Anderson the kind of versatility that every manager craves. By the end of his career, Brookens had played at least one game at every position, with the exception of left field and pitcher. If given the chance, he probably could have filled those slots, too.

(more…)

“Hot Tub Time Machine” is getting good reviews. Looks like it could be good for some cheap laughs (and is there a better kind of laugh than a cheap one?).

From A.O. Scott’s write-up in the Times:

“Hot Tub Time Machine” is the poignant story of three men, adrift in their 40s, who try to recapture the lost joys and squandered possibilities of their youth. I’m not entirely joking, though the movie itself is a nonstop barrage — somewhere between a riot and an orgy — of crude, obnoxious gags and riffs. If you are a connoisseur of sexual, scatological or just plain stupid humor, you will find your appetite satisfied, even glutted. But viewers of a certain age and background — let’s say those who know the lyrics to “Jesse’s Girl” by heart, even if they never really liked that song — are likely to endure the merry anarchy with a twinge of pained, slightly nauseated nostalgia.

…The undercurrent of misogyny and homophobic panic that courses through most arrested-development, guy-centric comedies these days is certainly present here. But unlike, say, “The Hangover,” which sweetens and sentimentalizes its man-child characters — allowing them to run wild and then run home to Mommy — “Hot Tub Time Machine” is honest in its coarseness and pretty tough on the fellows who are the agents and objects of its satire.

I’m downski.